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teapartyprincess4two · 7 months ago

Note

Omgg can u do some matt x actress!reader hc?? Love you xx

Actress- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Actress!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, slight cursing

summary: head cannons of Matt with an actress girlfriend!

—

☆SFW

Matt thought he knew everything there was to know about fame; the screaming fans, the off guard photos, and the rumors. When he started dating you, though, he was shocked at the intensity of your life.

☆ Every time you’re out in public, you get recognized by a fan or paparazzi, without fail.

☆ You’re waiting in line for your coffee, holding Matt’s hand as you engage in meaningless, light conversation with him.

☆ A loud gasp interrupts you mid sentence, causing you to look in the direction of the noise.

☆ A fan stands there with a hand covering their mouth, eyes blown open in pure shock. “Oh my God! Y/n?! Can I have a picture please?”

☆ You never turn a fan down and soon, when other people realize who you are, it’ll become like a little meet and greet, and Matt becomes the photographer.

☆ When the paparazzi recognizes you, though, you’re not as quick to pose for a picture.

☆ “Matt, don’t look,” you warn, eyes darting between him and the paparazzi snapping pictures of you through the restaurant window.

☆ Matt never listens, he immediately cranes his neck to see what you’re talking about. “I said don’t look!” you squeak, trying to pull his attention back towards you.

☆ “Fuck off,” Matt groans, throwing the paparazzi a middle finger and returning to his meal with you.

☆ Matt is always excited about your newest project, whether you’re playing a main, side, or background character.

☆ You’re getting ready for the premiere of your newest film, Burn It.

☆ “Matt what are you wearing?” you laugh.

☆ “Just supporting my girl,” he replies. He does a small twirl, showing off his outfit. He’s wearing a shirt with the movie poster printed on the front, your face right smack in the middle and the title in bold letters right above it.

☆ “It’s the premiere, you gotta dress up,” you laugh, secretly enjoying the sillyness of it all.

☆ “Fine. But I’m wearing this under my suit,” he replies, exiting the room. After a while, you start hearing the trailer to the movie playing from your room.

☆ He’s equally as supportive of your small roles.

☆ “Hey guys! So Chris, Nick, Y/n, and I are at the movie theater and we’re about to watch Y/n’s new movie The Escape,” Matt says, introducing the theme of their YouTube video.

☆ “Babe, I literally played cashier #3,” you chuckle from behind the camera, holding a big bucket of popcorn.

☆ “I’d watch it if you played a piece of grass,” he replies seriously.

☆ Whenever a new movie of yours releases, you’re usually booked and busy with press tours and interviews.

☆ During these interviews, the initial questions are usually about the movie, but as the interview progresses they become more personal.

☆ “So, Y/n, have you found Mr.Right?” the interviewer asks, fidgeting with the cue cards in front of her.

☆ The question is corny, and you’ve been asked it millions of times before, but you always answer truthfully because you’ve never hidden your relationship status.

☆ “Yup and his name is Matthew Sturniolo,” you reply cheekily, sending the camera a wink. When Matt watches the interview, he feels like a fan who just got a shoutout.

☆ There have been roles that require you to kiss your costars and Matt is never a fan of those.

☆ “Beautiful take!” the director exclaims, clapping his hands loudly in approval. “But let’s get it one more time! Add a little more fire! More passion,” he instructs, snapping his fingers.

☆ Matt joined you on set today, and quite frankly he wishes he didn’t. He hates seeing you kiss another man, even if it is just for show.

☆ Once the director gets the perfect shot, you’re all sent to lunch. “Hi baby,” you hum, walking over to Matt and wrapping your arms around his waist.

☆ You go in for a kiss and he quickly leans in, wanting to claim you in front of everyone.

☆ You are no stranger to rumors and speculations, especially not when a male costar is involved.

☆ “Actress, Y/n trades in her YouTuber for a REAL celebrity,” “Y/n found a new boo?,” “What happened to Matthew Sturniolo and who is the new guy in Y/n’s life?”

☆ Matt can’t stop reading the gossip newsletters and blogs, and even if he knows they’re just rumors he finds himself becoming sad.

☆ “Matt! Where are you?” you shout through the house. You find him on his bed, scrolling relentlessly on his laptop.

☆ “Whatcha doing? Wanna play Mario Kart?” you ask, crawling into bed next to him. Your eyes blow open in shock when you see his screen.

☆ “Matt stop reading that shit!” you exclaim. “I can’t help it,” he groans, running his hands down his face.

☆ You snatch the laptop and drag him out of bed for a night full of Mario Kart and cuddling on the couch.

☆ With a schedule as busy as yours, it can become difficult for you to make time for your personal life.

☆ “I miss you,” Matt whispers through the phone. You’re on a press tour for your newest film and your side of the bed has been empty for 2 months now.

☆ “I miss you too, baby,” you murmur. It hurt to know that you still had another month of this tour left.

☆ “When you come back I’m never letting you go,” his voice is sad, but he knows 3 months isn’t forever.

☆ “I can’t wait,” you giggle, eyes falling on the digital clock across the room. It’s getting late and you have an early interview tomorrow.

☆ “I have to go baby, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Matt’s sad to let you go, it feels like he rarely hears your voice nowadays if it isn’t playing from his TV.

☆ “Okay, beautiful.”

☆ When you’re invited to events or award shows, Matt always joins as your plus one.

☆ “And the nominees are…” the announcer says, listing the names as she reads them from the teleprompter.

☆ Matt squeezes your hand when your name is said, a huge smile spreading across his face.

☆ “The winner for best actress in a leading role is…” the suspense is killing you, but you feel the victory in your soul.

☆ “Y/n!” The entire crowd cheers at the mention of your name and you can’t help but shoot up from your seat in excitement.

☆ “Oh my God, Matt! I won!” You exclaim, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ You scurry on stage, nervous hands taking your award and preparing for an improvised speech. You end the speech with a special thanks to your friends and family, making sure to specifically thank Matt as you blow him kisses from the stage.

☆ He watches with teary eyes and a huge, dopey smile.

☆NSFW

Matt loves joining you on set and sometimes things can become a little heated between you two.

☆ You hated photo shoots, especially when it involved lingerie and/ or bikinis. Matt, on the other hand, loved photo shoots and he was always quick to join you for them.

☆ “I’m so cold,” you shiver, plopping onto the couch next to Matt. You’re wearing a lingerie set so small that you might as well be naked.

☆ “I know of a few ways to warm you up,” Matt replies, only half joking. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning an excited giggle from you.

☆ “Oh yeah?” you tease, pulling him in for a kiss.

☆ Before you know it, he’s pushed your panties to the side and is fucking you so hard the couch is moving with each thrust.

☆ Although Matt knows your relationship with your male costars is purely professional, he can’t help but become jealous.

☆ “How was work today?” Matt asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

☆ “Eh same old same old. We’re stuck on the same scene,” you reply, hoping he won’t ask any further questions.

☆ “Hmm that sucks,” he hums. “What scene is it?”

☆ You gulp nervously, knowing how much Matt is going to hate your answer. “The bathroom sex scene.”

☆ You feel his body stiffen immediately. “It’s just because the set is small and the angles are awkward,” you continue.

☆ “Mhm,” is all he says.

☆ Later, when you’re getting ready for bed and doing your nighttime routine, he pins you against the bathroom counter and fucks you dumb.

☆ “This pussy is mine,” he grunts into your ear, earning a whimper from you.

☆ When you’ve been gone for long press tours, he becomes needy and you two have to resort to phone sex.

☆ “I miss you, baby,” he murmurs. “I miss you too, so much,” you reply.

☆ “No, like, I miss you,” he reiterates, allowing his hand to travel below the waistband of his sweats.

☆ “Touch yourself,” you instruct. “Pretend it’s me.”

☆ You continue to talk him through it, not stopping until you hear his beautiful, breathy moans.

☆ “You did so good,” you praise and he swears his dick gets hard again.

☆ When you finally do return from your long trips, Matt is extremely needy.

☆ He’s waiting for you impatiently at the airport, ready to engulf you in his arms as soon as he sees you.

☆ When you get home, he attacks you with a bunch of kisses until they become more needy and passionate.

☆ His hands wander all over your body, massaging and kneading at your skin like it’s the first time.

☆ You push him back into the bed and straddle his lap, bouncing on his cock until he’s satisfied.

☆ “Oh my God!— Fuck! I love you,” he moans, bucking his hips into you as he climaxes.

☆ “Holy fuck. Maybe I should go on tour more often,” you giggle, peppering kisses along Matt’s face. “Please no,” he mumbles.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: 📸📸📸 working on Arranged Ch.2, a Johnnie fic & another Matt headcannon!

Also ily2 thank u for the request! xoxox - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @stingerayyy2 @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

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visualbutterflysworld · 11 months ago

Text

Drunk Vinnie | Vhackerr

Warning: vinnie being drunk and clingy

might make a part 2. idk

“I need to text my girl. I want my girl.” Vinnie whined as he leaned onto Jack. “She’s right there Vin.” Jack laughed as he pointed to you, who was preoccupied by ordering a Uber. “That’s….that’s not her! I’m texting Y/n right now.” Vinnie huffed before pulling out his phone. He pulled in his bottom lip. He squinted his eyes trying to successfully type correctly.

In his mind he thought he texted, baby where are you? I miss you!

Instead he actually texted, “biby here ure uuuu( iiiii muss youuu &&”

You chuckled as you read the text before going back to what you were doing. “Why won’t she text me back!? DID SHE DIE?! JACK CALL THE COPS!” Vinnie yelled when he did see those three bubbles pop up. “Vinnie, stop yelling.” You rubbed his arm, trying to sooth him. “No! Who are even you?! I have a girlfriend, lady!” Vinnie quickly gave you a dirty look.

“I am your girlfriend, Vinnie.” You laughed. “No! You don’t look like my Y/n. My pretty Y/n. Where’s my pretty Y/n?” Vinnie’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “Okay, Vinnie, let’s get you home.” You say, “Jack. Help? Uber’s here.” Jack nods before you and him put Vinnie’s arm over your shoulders.

“Y/n! I love Y/n so much! She’s so pretty!” Vinnie yells as you guys walk outside. “Vinnie, shhh.” Jack said. “Jack-o’-lantern, you just don’t understand.” Vinnie lays his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah, man. Here. In you go.” Jack shakes his head before helping you put vinnie in the car.

After a short 15 minute drive you guys are back at your house, knowing Vinnie will be too loud for his apartment. “Honey! I’m home!” Vinnie yells as he stumbles into the house. You shake your head before shutting the door and locking it. “Do you want some water?” You ask. “Yeah, that sounds great random person. Hey, this place looks at lot like my girlfriend’s house?” Vinnie scans the room.

You quickly dash and get him some water. Once he’s handed the glass, the water is gone in a matter of seconds. “Let’s get you to bed.” You say before grabbing his hand. “Okay, but nothing is happening between us! No funny business lady or I’ll tell Y/n!” Vinnie tells you. It was honestly so cute, seeing Vin miss you even though you were there.

Once you reach the bedroom, Vinnie wastes no time collapsing on the bed. “Mm. So comfy.” A happy lazy smile on his face. You take his shoes off and his socks knowing he hates sleeping with his socks on. “Y/n is the best. Do you have a Y/n?” Vinnie asked as you unbuckled his belt. “Sorta. Expect he’s a guy.” You say before pulling his pants down and throwing them somewhere. “That’s good. What’s his name?” Vinnie ask as you pull him to sit up. “Arms up.” You say.

Vinnie puts him arms up and strikes a pose while doing so. You laugh softly before pulling it off as well. Sober vinnie would thank you because he gets hot to easily in his sleep. “The guy! His name!” Vinnie says before falling back. You don’t know how but he somehow knew he wasn’t under the covers so he quickly places himself underneath.

“Vinnie. His name is Vinnie.” You say before grabbing a t shirt to sleep in. “What!? That’s my name! My name is Vinnie!” Vinnie yells. “I know that, Vin.” You quickly toss your hair in a low bun before sliding in bed. “I never asked but, what’s your name?” Vinnie says. “It’s y/n.” You laugh before moving a piece of hair out his face. Vinnie’s face scrunched before his eyes went wide.

“Wait a minute! You’re Y/n! My Y/n! Oh my God! When did you get here baby?!” Vinnie quickly rushes into your arms. You laugh, “I’ve been here the whole time Vin.” “Nuh uh! That other lady was here! I swear.” Vinnie nuzzles his head in your neck. You lay back so that you can both rest comfortably. “Whatever you say, Vin.” You message his head.

“I love you Y/n. Promise to never leave me like that again?” You smile before slowly closing your eyes. “I love you too. I promise to never leave you again.” You feel Vinnie smile and it isn’t long before the both of you are passed out into a bliss.

#vincent hacker #vinnie hacker #vhackerr #bwwm couples #bwwmromance #oneshot #love #lovers #vinnie hacker x reader

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xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago

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xxSabitoxx Full Fic Masterlist

╰┈➤ Return to Master Post

╰┈➤ Headcanon Masterlist

╰┈➤ Imagines/Drabbles Masterlist

Updated Aug.12th 2023

Turn of Events | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You and Sanemi are paired up for a mission by Ubuyashiki

The Sunset Is Beautiful, Isn’t It? | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | ANGST

╰┈➤ I love you, but I have to let you go

You Wouldn’t Last a Second | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You think you can stay away from me?

Kiss Away Your Scars | Sanemi x NB Reader | FLUFF

╰┈➤ You’re a dumb ass for saying something like that

Unexpected | Tengen x Wives x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You could have told me you were a married man

Unexpected Pt.2 Morning After | Tengen x Wives x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ Getting busy without us?

Unexpected Pt.3 Stay | Tengen x Wives x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ Like you’d have me any other way…

I Hate You | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ It seemed the water pillar hated you as much as you hated him

You’re Mine | Tengen x Wives X AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You really think you’ll get her pregnant on the first try?

Drippin | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ Being Rengoku’s tsugoku had its ups and downs.

Little Pet | Akaza x AFAB Reader + Rengoku | SMUT

╰┈➤ How ‘bout Doll? Baby? Oh I know, I’ll call you Pet

Play Pretend | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You’ll pose as a newlywed couple

I Can Do It Better | Obanai x Mitsuri x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ I want to have a threesome. Me, you and Obanai

I Still Do It Better | Obanai x Mitsuri x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ Back for more?

Pick Your Poison | Yandere Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT w/concerning themes

╰┈➤ I’m glad you finally found a tsugoku, Sanemi

Love Sick | Giyu x AFAB Reader + Shinobu | SMUT w/concerning themes

╰┈➤ You didn’t remember anything about your life as a human

Quickie | Tengen x AFAB Reader x Sanemi | SMUT

╰┈➤ I’ve had enough of you

Stalker | Obanai x AFAB Reader | SMUT w/concerning themes

╰┈➤ You had a sneaking suspicion you had a stalker

Best Friend’s Brother | Sanemi x AFAB Reader + Genya | SMUT

╰┈➤ You’ve got a thing for your best friend’s older brother

Birthday Boy | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ So, birthday boy, what do you want as your final present?

Good Girl | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?

You Wish | Gojo x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ I don’t think you meant to send those to me, angel.

Respectfully, Fuck Off | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ You were completely and utterly unbearable in his eyes

Unfortunate | Hantengu Clones x AFAB Reader | SMUT w/concerning themes

╰┈➤ You had fucked up, big time.

Blizzard | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ Gotta stay warm some how

Merlot | CEO Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ Staying busy during a business dinner

Roommates | Roommate Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

╰┈➤ and they were roommates…

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year ago

Note

thinking about jealous reader and jealous javi

Jealous Girl

gif via @javier-pena

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

warnings: roughy sex/smut (fem penetration) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; dirty talk; jealous!reader; jealous!javi; sort of dom!javi; allusions to reader having long-ish hair; pet names (baby, babygirl, hermosa, cariño); slut-shaming (reader uses the word ‘whore’); dubcon (no explicit consent, Javi is… forceful).

no use of y/n in this fic

thx 4 the drabble / short fic request!! once again this is FERAL !!! feel free to keep sending me lil drabble requests. they’re so fun to write while I work on my longer fics.

reminder that I am not using the taglist for these, but you can turn on notifs & join the list in my pinned post for my longer works !

-em <3

—

“You broke it off with me, baby, remember?”

What does it matter? What does it matter when you lock eyes with him getting head in his car, parked in some barely-hidden side-street, one block away from your dad’s salsamentaria?

What does it matter when, ten minutes later, he finds you, alone in the back room of the store, forcing back tears of frustration as your shaking hands busy themselves with fresh inventory?

You spin around, prepared to bark curses at him for trespassing into sacred, employee-only territory. He’s leaning against the door, beige suit-jacket a little roughed-up, hair slightly out of place.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your freedom,” you reply coolly, mirroring his pose against the far wall.

He smiles. You’d known him long enough to recognize that condescending expression — the wolfish twitch of his mustache.

Toying with you for sport.

“And you’re not?” Javi asks, the casual raise of his eyebrows deceptive compared to the darkness overtaking his gaze. “Everybody’s seen you, y’know, leaving bars half-naked with guys twice your age.”

Always an opportunist, the agent pushes on, taking advantage of your stunned silence. “N’ you used to be so shy, babygirl.” A chuckle. “The fuck did I do to you, huh?”

You stammer, wanting to tear into him for his crudeness (though he was right — mixing the breakup with tequila hadn’t failed to strip you of your inhibitions), but the man denies you the chance, gliding forward in a slow, wide step.

Softly. “You wear my gifts for them? Let ‘em fuck you in all those lil’ lace sets I got for you?”

He’s close now, and you’re beginning to see red. This was part of the reason behind the break-up in the first place — neither of you knew how to manage overwhelming care without dousing it in cruelty.

Those long-awaited fighting words finally manage to breach the threshold of your lips. “Yeah, actually, I do,” you drawl, arousal levelled by a red-hot rage coiling tighter and tighter within you, “Ruined a couple pairs.”

“Bullshit.” His consonants slice through his vowels, accusatory and harsh. “Bet that pussy doesn’t even get wet after bein’ trained by me, does it?”

Try not to choke on your snarl, girl. “‘Least I don’t have to get head a block down from my ex’s shop — z’that the only way you can still get hard, Peña?” You muster up a daring smirk, shouldering his challenge head-on. “Hoping you’ll see me walk by so you can finish inside your whore?”

Bull’s eye.

“Don’t act like you give a single fuck where I’m gettin’ my dick wet, cariño.” Every inch of him bristles something fierce, but with skill and practice, he keeps his anger in check — maintains the upper hand — looming over you to consecrate the threat.

“Just pissed that I’m fuckin’ another bitch’s throat when we both know that’s what yours’s made for, right?”

The coil snaps.

Before you can stop it, your hand is in the air, gunning straight for the tan skin over his cheekbone.

In a blink, he’s strangling your wrist, holding back your palm from making punishing contact. The following pause is thick and heavy, quickly overflowing with Javi’s rage-soaked hunger. Dark and dangerous, the man hones in on your glare—

And speaks, voice low.

“Y’know, I let her swallow my load—”

“Let go of me.”

“—but you can take the next one.”

And then he flips you over, brushing off your indignant whine, flattening your back against his chest. Javi is strong (he always has been) and there’s no point in resisting (there never was). He’s unzipped himself, hiked your skirt up, wrenched your panties to the side and forced himself inside you in a matter of seconds.

Dear God, forgive me for getting my fix.

A big hand wraps around your throat while unforgiving arms form a prison around your body. He tilts your head back to face him, savouring your tightness, your suffering, and the strangled moan of pleasure dripping from your lips with his hips’ every rough throw.

“Always gonna belong to me, huh?”

His whisper settles over your skin, heightening that already-unbearable bliss. Your muddled mind and slackened mouth scramble to form words beyond full full full, yes yes yes.

“F-fuck you, Peña—” you spit through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. You fingertips grow sore, pressed to bruise along his forearms. “You’re worse than me—you-you know it.”

Javi responds with a tightened grasp and diligent, skilled digits falling to manhandle your clothed breasts. “Yeah, fuck you, too—” and it’s strained, etched with long-awaited relief, “—fuckin’ spoiled—jealous brat.”

An all-encompassing jolt to your system — he’s found that aching bundle. He carves words into your sensitive clit: you were never going to be anything but mine, mine, mine. The arch in your spine deepens; the back of your head falls helplessly against his collarbone. And despite yourself — despite his venom — you grin, catching the broken hallelujah underpinning every vowel, every touch of his desperate, repressed desire.

It’s a symphony you both sing, a thought hanging so heavy in the room it almost becomes a tangible part of your filthy entanglement.

“If I can’t have you, baby, no one else in this world can.”

—

#javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier peña x female reader #javier pena smut #javier peña narcos #javier peña fic #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x y/n #narcos fanfiction #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal x you #em’s answering machine <3

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violet-eng · 1 year ago

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Neuvillette NSFW Headcanons.

NSFW +18 kamino eru did the 🎨

Since his work is exhaustive and drains a lot of energy from him, most of the time he is a bottom.

He lets you ride him because he knows you like it - and he doesn't have the strength for that.

When he's bottom he cums fast.

He's very, very, very vocal. You are going to hear him say your name many times, he murmurs, moans and pants a lot.

He always tells you how good you are at taking it.

He asks for more, he asks for it with tears in his eyes when you guys are on your third or fourth orgasm.

He cries during sex? YES, he cries because he likes doing it with you, because of the overstimulation you cause in him with your circular movements on his fat cock.

He cries and whispers "I love you, sniff sniff".

You ask for one more round, you lean over him and he accepts -with tears rolling down his eyes- even though he is almost drained. He would do anything for you… when he is bottom.

"Baby, I can't take it anymore," he would say, shiny pearls rolling down his cheeks. "Just a little more, Neuvi, please" you would say back.

---WHEN HE'S ON TOP.

If he had few judgments that day, he will come home early and if you didn't run away… pray, because you will be tied to the bed until dawn. It's now his turn

Neuvillette has high histamine…seriously, high. He is fit. And if his day at work didn't take much of his energy, then he'll pour it all out on you…and not just the energy.

He's good at pregame, he'd sneak up on you from behind while you're in the kitchen and start with wet kisses on your neck.

Lubrication is not a problem for him… Hydro vision…

He has a breast sucking kink.

He is a god, literally a god when eating pussy, like a starving man.

He grunts as the head of his fat cock begins to enter your tight, steaming little pussy. He growls a lot, it's almost animalistic.

Lots of compliments, damn, he praises your body a lot, especially your pussy for the way it sucks him.

His thrusts are soft: Neuvillete not only has sex, no… he makes love, and he wants to show you how much he loves and appreciates you.

Missionary is his favorite position when he decides to be on top, because he can see you cry for him, ask for more, he can also hide his face in the crook of your neck and let you hug him while he speeds up the pace.

He whispers a lot of "I love yous" as he cradles your cheek with his hand.

He likes it when you caress his hair while doing it, he also caresses yours.

He does it all... night... long... and then goes back to work the next day.

He avoids cumming inside because he knows that you are both busy and don't have time to raise children.

AH.... but when he's in heat!!!!! Gurl, look for a place to hide yourself…

He is a dragon, and he smells when you are ovulating.

That thing about not having children because you don't have time for parenting… it was a lie… Neuvilette in heat has a powerful breeding kink

If he is in heat, he notifies that he will not go to work, and at the same time he tells your boss, because girl… you are not going to leave the room for at least two weeks.

His cock grows at that time, perhaps twice its size, and his seed load the same… Hydro Dragon must make sure he has offspring, right?

He thrusts you without warning - almost always -

Puts you in mating press pose almost all the time, because that way he can get deeper

Dirty talk, but for real... who's this man? This ain't the soft Neuvi you know:

"Loving what your man's cock is doing to you, uh?" "You look so nasty from up here, awful, how is that you were a lady before this, moaning like a slut?" "Beg, y/n, beg for my cock in this danked pussy of yours "

Growls, roars, whimpers, calls you his, uses your name with a low low looooooowwwww and sexy voice.

His voice … Archons … the tone of his voice descends to levels that when he bathes your ear could make you cum asap.

He is rough, ambitious, energetic, intense, you feel that at any time he will break you in two.

Finds your point G almost immediately, and will not stop hitting it with its great, fat and long cock, even if you beg him to stop because of overestimulation.

Doesn't go slowly, moreover, you feel as if he was only faster, fuck, how much stamin does he have?

The thrusts are so strong that it is as if you felt it in your throat

He relies on the back of the bed for more power and stability, and you can see his muscles tense in that pose, attractive as fuck.

Leaves you marks. Many … marks. In the breasts, the thighs, the neck, the groin, the shoulders …

Doesn't stop. He loves your cock drunk face beneath him, and tilts his head while appreciating the view.

"Look at that face you're pulling. Looks like you love my cock, eh?"

He's aggressive, yeah, but when he rubs your clit he's just oh so lovely and tender. And that fucking kills you.

Touches the buldge that shows through your belly, where his fat cock hits your cervix, and it only makes him go faster, and faster... you almost faint a couple of times.

Cums a lot, inside of you of course, he wants to see your swollen belly with his child, and ensures that it stays inside of your abused hole.

And that's only for a day... the next 13 days... gurl... you better grab a wheelchair.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #neuvilette smut #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette fanart #fontaine

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pedge-page · 1 year ago

Text

Another Joel dealing with a horomonal preggo reader, at the park:

Warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

- - - -

You always slip on your favorite pair of laced up sneakers when on the go, and today is no different. You and Joel had made a habit of taking a leisure walk through the local park on the weekends for the fresh air and enjoying each others company.

You gently lay a hand under your bulging tummy instinctually now as you prepare for your baby's delivery any week now. Joel notices your shoe comes untied, and ever the gentle man, offers to tie it up for you.

"No, Joel, I'm not a child. I dont NEED some man, I can tie my own shoes," you scoff coldly, detaching your hand from his.

He holds his hands up in surrender and watches:

At first you try to bend down as normal from the waist, but the bump prevents you from getting any closer to your shoes. Then you try to squat, but that proves useless too as you can't see past your swollen belly. You try several different ways-- bending, crouching, leaning, from one foot on the bench to almost doing a twister-crab walk pose on all fours, increasingly becoming frustrated with how neither your arms nor eyes could reach the culprit of all your problems in the world: the untied shoe lace.

You start huffing, eyes watering at how angry you're getting.

Yoy finally stand up straight and look dead ahead, and the tears start flowing like an avalanch as you tild your head back and wail into the sky.

Joel shakes his head, gets on a creaky knee and ties your shoes together, whispering praise to you and your belly "you did good my girl, I'll take it from here," and "Your body is doing miracles already," to get you to calm down as you make a giant scene in the busy park.

"I'm—sniffles—too—chokes—fucking—FAT!"

Joel is quick to comfort you: "No you're not, you're beautiful! You're growing our healthy beautiful baby in here, calm down, sweetie, no need to cry."

But you persist, ugly snot running down your nose as you stutter your inhales and heave your exhales. "I'm gonna— have a big f-fucking fat ass baby and h-h-h's g-gonna rip m-y fucking vagina apart!" you croak loudly, your hands unable wipe away the amount of tears blinding your eyes.

People turn their heads at your echoing voice and subsequent expletives carry over the open area—"And then —huff—my h-h-husband—that's you—won't l-love me any-m-more because I won't have—heave—have a tight s-sexy pussy ever again!" You wail, more ugly tears spilling as you scream the last part.

"Jesus," Joel says under his breath, desperately fumbling to get your shoes double knotted as quickly as possible. He's looking around and sheepishly smiling, waving off the nasty glares from a group of middle aged women joggers and parents covering their young childrens' ears as they walk by, shouting every curse and sexual thing that Joel apparently won't love about you anymore for all the world and God to hear.

He finishes the knot as you adjust to hyperventilating. "Okay okay, all fixed now see? How about we get some ice cream, yeah?" He says, rubbing your shoulders soothingly as he nods off everyone to go about their business again. He pauses quickly and stares back at you, realizing his potential fatal error. "Or—or not! We don't need to, if... if that makes you feel—" fatter.

You sniffles a bit more, rubbing your red swollen eyes before answering with a much more child-like, hushed tone, "N-no—I. I want, mmm, chocolate. Two scoops."

He plants a long kiss on your forehead before holding your hand to lead you to the ice cream cart.

Staying firmly planted, You quickly rip your hand away and shout, "JOOOEL!"

He doubles back, panic stricken over his entire body at the harsh, painful cry of his name. "What what is it?? What's wrong!? Tell me." His hands immediately cup around your belly, feeling for any signs of violent movement.

You meekly hold your foot up, barely balancing on one knee with the counter weight of your tummy. "S' too tight," you say softly, indicating the shoe he'd just spent an eternity trying to knot.

He tries to hide his sigh as he forces himself to one knee again in front of your dangling foot.

- - - -

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Permanent taglist: @harriedandharassed

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel tlou #pedro pascal #joel dealing with preggo wife

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n3ptoonz · 5 months ago

Note

Love your work babe!

Figured I send some ideas over!

Asking johnny to fuck you from behind for the first time, like being nervous and asking him to bend you over and take you how he wants!

puts on sunglasses and flashes smile thank you, thank you very much

'Suga Baby'

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Johnny Cage/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, mirror sex, creampie/breeding kink, use of "princess" "baby girl" "good girl" "doll" and "baby", scent kink if you squint, prob my first time ever using the word 'pussy' in a fic, reader a lil shy, COCKY JOHNNY CAGE, doggy style/backshots, the only "she" used here is in reference to reader's vag LMAOO, dirty talk, sorry for any typos or unedited indicators

shoutout @igotcaged for the sugar daddy idea 😝 thought i'd double it 😼

Word count: 1.4k

what i was envisioning while writing 🫦:

Finally, some down time with your favorite man ever: Johnny Cage. AKA your sugar daddy of 7 months now. Who would've thought your days as a waitress would be cut so short when one of your favorite actors dropped in after winning a few big awards? He did. It had been his mission ever since his divorce to make the hottest woman he could find his sugar baby. He fucking loved spoiling people, so why not include you?

Truth be told it was no bother that he would do what he wants for however long since you would still get a weekly allowance. Though...you did want to celebrate his latest self-directed film "Mortal Kombat", which by the way, smash hit, winning Movie of the Year with him. In the 7 months of living with him in his mansion, you two only ever got to be intimate like twice. He was always busy with production, meet and greets, script writing, and protecting Earthrealm. He barely had time to wink at himself and pose in the mirror!

So tonight he comes home, a little tipsy he'll admit, but aware enough since he's not drunk. He was about to start rambling about a myriad of things when he was stopped in his tracks by the beautiful sight of you leaning against the back of the couch in his Versace robe and the lingerie he bought you for your birthday--how convenient that it matched what he was wearing tonight at the awards. He could smell a bit of the perfume you liked to wear lingering around the living room mixing with the faint smell of his favorite cologne on the robe too.

It was...intoxicating.

"Somebody was eager for me to come home..." he teased, slowly walking up to you and wrapping his arms around you. "You never told me there was another after party."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. Bringing up one of your hands you pulled his face closer so you could look him in the eyes. "Well, that would've ruined the surprise now wouldn't it?" you replied. Next thing you know you could feel him pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, palm over your ass and all. His sudden determination had you giggling and smiling.

He moved with vigor and intent to his massive bedroom in hopes you also were just as eager to fuck him like he was with you. The way your breasts sat to the way your thighs made the fabric of the garters stretch just a tad brought all together with that perfume...you'd think he was a starving lion released from its cage (no pun intended).

Your back gently hit the cool satin linens of his king sized bed. The mixing temperatures of that with his hot kisses all over your jaw already had your vision fuzzy. You gasped and bit your lip so you wouldn't be so loud as he just got started, but him realizing that only gassed him up more.

"Johnny..." you softly whined in his ear. Your nails were subconsciously dragging against his prized biceps as the thought had crept into your head. You wanted back shots. Though the nervousness started to appear since again, you've only gotten intimate twice, and both times were nearly rushed in a semi public setting for the fun of risk--and one of those times was you giving him some bomb ass head.

This time you needed him to bend you over and do with you what he wanted to. Especially now that you two have all the time in the world.

Johnny lifted his head to see the slight plea in your eyes, wondering what's going on behind those eyes. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap. "Don't be shy, princess, tell me what's on your mind." he said, dragging his surprisingly soft fingers gently up and down your torso and eventually gripping your ass--he's obsessed with how the fabric feels, especially with you wearing it.

His gaze from under you was making you even more nervous. You really didn't expect to be so close with him, let alone be sitting in his lap and telling him what you want. Besides money, of course.

"Do you think you could...fuck me from behind this time?" you said. You tried to mask most of your nerves by leaning down towards him, the bra part of your lingerie nearly giving out over his face, and grinding your hips down onto his growing if not full erection. "And no, the quickie at that party two weeks ago doesn't count. I want you to-"

"-'fuck you like I own you', was it? To bend you over in front of this mirror and watch your eyes roll back from how fuckin' hot you look taking all of me? Aw, you're so good for me, doll."

Johnny was no poser. For the most part, what you see is what you get. In this context, he has every right to channel this side of him. There you were on your hands and knees on the bed, barely being able to focus on how either of you look as he shamelessly watched your back arch so he could keep hitting that same angle that made you see stars.

You loudly moaned and bit your lip again. It was drawn out and matched his pace with every thrust that connected. He fell in love with the growing sound of your pussy getting louder with every pump. Your slick was running down your thighs the wetter you got and Johnny was just silently thanking the elder gods above only he got to see such a view. He was just getting turned on more by the second since he could also get a look at himself and you in the mirror.

"Shit, have I kept you waiting too long? I'm sorry, baby girl. I wish you would've told me she was begging for me." he said. The "she" in question being exactly what you thought it was. "Look at that...she was made for me." he continued. He gestured to the feeling of you clenching around him in response to his dirty talk. It really has felt like it's been too long, but he was surely making up for it.

"Harder...slower...please..." you groaned out. You so badly wanted to get the most out of this as much as you could. He let go of your hair and placed his hands on your hips, stilling his movements without pulling out. He leaned down next to your ear and said,

"Whatever you want, baby."

And from there, you could feel him in your stomach. He made sure to keep pulling back and pushing forward hit that spot he knew could get you to be more vocal. So far you were mostly just whines and soft moans of approval, but damn it he fucking loved how you sounded when you weren't able to contain yourself.

"I know, babe, I know it's big." he muttered, but loud enough for you to be able to make out his words. "But I know you can take it. Be a good- agh" he inhaled sharply in between sentences. "-girl for me- ...yeah? Fuck..."

He silently cursed to himself as he could feel himself about to cum. You had such an effect on him already, but the tears and sweat making you shine had him ready to be a damn father. And honestly in this moment in time, he wouldn't even mind.

You buried your face into the mattress the closer you got to cumming. He could overhear you say you were about to even if your words were slurred and muffled. His grip around your hips got tighter as he picked up the pace again, begging you to let him cum inside. All you could get out was a loud muffled array of whines in agreement. You both needed this carnally, and he was in no opposition to it.

As he shot his thick warm seed against your walls, it didn't take long for it to start spilling out onto the back of your thighs. You came right after him and loudly moaned to your heart's content. Hands gripping the sheets and tears rolling freely down your face. It took him a bit before he stilled his moments because he couldn't stop getting turned on. Your muffled screams of pleasure were music to his ears.

He pulled out and watched it drip out of you and let me tell you, nobody has ever seen him grin wider in his life. You sat up as you tried to calmed down, watching yourself pant and tiredly smile in the mirror. He leaned down and kissed your neck a few times while wrapping his arms around your waist before muttering with a smirk,

"I hope it's a girl."

#n3ptoonz #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #mk smut

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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

Text

My Whole Life : A Fear of God Story

(Joel Miller x OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary: The family celebrates Joel's birthday.

Content Warnings: Fluff and smut (like the fluffiest fluff ever); Miller Family Fun; Joel being overrun by wild little girls; Dirty old man & inappropriate groping; Established relationship; Joel Miller is a Wife Guy; Competence kink; Breastfeeding; Lactation kink; Oral sex (M! & F! receiving); Come eating; Pregnancy kink; Size difference; Daddy kink; Possessive behavior; PIV sex; Ass play; Romantic anal :) ; Body worship; Dirty talk; Pussy slapping; Over stimulation

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Happy happy happy birthday to our bestest and most beautiful old man. This might just be some of the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever written, and it’s all for him :)

Word Count: 9.8K

Read on AO3

MY WHOLE LIFE

And you’ll always love me, won’t you?

Yes.

And the rain won’t make a difference?

No.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms

He’s still asleep. Laying on his side, bent elbow tucked beneath his smushed cheek, messy curls strewn across his pillow, overly long and floppy against his forehead. It’s time for a haircut, but he’s been distracted and busy lately, evading your managing fingers and scissors. The quilt is pulled up high over a thick shoulder, and that soft, full mouth is slightly parted, the near silent whistle of his breathing passing through each exhale. You close your eyes and listen for a moment. When you open again, you reach up to run the tip of your finger along the damp edge, and he puckers his lips slightly, mouthing at your exploration. Ah, awake then. You lean forward to press your mouth to his briefly, taking his breath into yourself.

Tell me you love me, you whisper the words onto his tongue.

“I love you, Birdie,” voice like falling stones; graveled, sluicing into your ears, eternally familiar. An everyday thing that’s a small miracle each time it’s whispered into the small shell.

“Happy Birthday, Joel.” And he finally opens his eyes, long lashes squeezing tight and spiky for a second before he blinks open, bleary with sleep. His half smile unfolds for you, slow and lazy, the lines around his eyes going deep and grooved, and your fingertips skim over the whiskered plane of his cheek, feeling the proof of his happiness around his eyes. Pulling his hand from beneath his cheek he reaches for you, skims the back of his hand down the front of your belly, undoing the buttons of his old, worn to softness flannel as he goes. Backs of his knuckles following again, skimming down the soft swell, dipping into your navel, and then sneaking around your waist to pull you into himself. Belly to belly he sighs deep and rumbly, closes his eyes again, nods his head just a smidge, settling back into the pillow. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You know that if he could skip this day every year, he would. Sleep through the whole thing of it, erase it from history. You know that it’s endlessly painful, eternally terrible, and that even after almost three decades it never hurts any less. Five years now, you’ve been married, and you’ve tried to make every year as special as possible. Not necessarily peaceful, an unachievable thing in a house full of four loud and scrambling little girls, but always special, always infused with as much happiness as you can give him.

The sallow purple light from early dawn seeps in through the sheer blue curtains over the wide bay window of your bedroom, and as he presses you to him, the course hair of his chest and belly rubs against the skin of your own stomach, your overly sensitive breasts, full and extra tender from nursing. You’d made his gift extra special last year, your last baby, little Connie, now nearing six months old.

“Another one?”

“Well, baby, that’s what happens when your husband can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs, head falling back on his neck as he runs his palm over his mouth, two fingers tucked into his belt. Dad pose.

“We’re getting a nanny, Joel. Someone to help us – you go out there and find anyone, I don’t care who. There’s too many of them, we’re being overtaken. And we can’t keep asking Ellie and Dina – they’ve got JJ now, they’re busy too. You’ve saddled us with a whole kindergarten here because you can’t seem to stop getting me pregnant,” voice hitching with equal measures of anxiety and happiness, and an overabundance of hormones and love.

He sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you tight to his chest, one of his hands coming up to squeeze your full, heavy breasts gently, you gasp, extra sensitive already. He coos right into the soft shell of your ear, “Poor Birdie. S’just so fun makin’ ‘em baby. Can’t help myself.”

You roll your eyes at him even though he can’t see, and you kind of want to claw at his face and rip all his clothes off, all at the same time. This is all his fault. All of your sense gone out the window, can’t get pregnant while you’re breastfeeding, as if you didn’t know better. Too desperate for your husband to be more careful. And now look at the two of you…

Your ass perks up, grinds back into his already growing erection, fucking beautiful, he murmurs with his forehead resting on your shoulder to look down at you, palming your ass. His hands sweep over you in an arc, skimming the soft dips and contours of your skin.

Then shyly, head tuning over your shoulder to press your temple to his forehead, “Are you happy?” Because you still just need to make sure, you still just need to hear it.

“You’ve never given me the option to be anything else but, my love.”

He’d gotten up in the middle of the night when he’d heard her fussing, bringing the baby to you still half asleep, cuddling her tiny, pink form against his naked chest, so that you could nurse her back to sleep. He’d sat at the edge of the bed, big hand cupped at the back of your skull as he’d looked down on you feeding his child from your breast, the look in his eyes like nothing you’d ever imagined before him. The birth of your children had infused a sense of tenderness, an intimacy so acute it brought tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much, into your relationship that had made the two of you closer than ever. More in love with each other than you’d ever thought possible.

The memory of your parents was worn and faded with time, but you remembered they’d always approached each other with a sort of comfortable respect. Never ones for overt displays of affection or physical intimacy. So you’d never expected that the love of a man like Joel Miller, stoic and reserved and brusque, could be like this; an overwhelming sort of thing, scalding and suffocating in a way you needed.

His hand skims back to your chest, undoing the rest of your buttons to get at the warmth of your breasts, rough palm gently, gently cupping the full weight. The dry abrasion of calluses catching at your sensitive nipples, handling you with such care. A low rumble in his throat, eyes still closed, “Gimme another kiss, little bird. It’s my birthday,” he whispers before sliding forward, taking your mouth with his. He starts off slow, a soft brush of damp lips, before he takes your upper lip between his, pulling gently, his hand moving back and down now, cupping your lush bottom to pull you up and into himself. Your hands flutter over his chest, still after all this time, easily overwhelmed by the heat and feel of him. You never want it to end, you never want it to lessen.

The sex is still filthy, but everything else is pure.

You can feel the hardening heft of his cock under his boxers between the two of you, and you skim your hand down the length of his soft belly, fingers tucking beneath the elastic to run the backs of your knuckles against the burning hot skin there, feel the tickle of his hair. He makes another one of those deep sounds, warm and masculine and smelling faintly musky from sleep, and you bring your knee up against his hip, pushing further into his boxers to feel the rapidly thickening base of his cock against the back of your hand, you brush the pad of your thumb there and his kiss becomes hungrier. Bringing his palm to the nape of your neck he rolls the two of you over suddenly, trying to take charge, licking deep and wet into your mouth, pressing his now full-on erection into your cupping palm. “Taste so good, Birdie. Is my little cunt wet and ready for me?”

“Joel–” you whisper, drawing your hand up to his shoulder to try and keep him at bay. His wet mouth moves down to your throat, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, settling more heavily between your spread thighs to grind his cock into your warmth. “We can’t,” you moan as his hot mouth pulls gently at your tit now, nipples dark and swollen. It’s been several hours since you’d nursed, and you feel the warmth of your milk as his tongue swirls around you. He groans, rough and hungry at the taste, bringing his knee up to lever himself over you, readying to rip your clothes off and take your cunt for himself, but as he moves to balance himself on one arm and knee while his other hand reaches for your panties, you press him off balance, dislodging him and rolling over as he goes, so that you’re left straddling the wide breadth of him. His eyes flash, provoked, and he jerks you forward, ripping the flannel off your shoulders so that your breasts are left bare and swinging heavily. With a rough grunt he bends his knees, shoving you up further on his stomach to wrap a big hand around your tit and bring it to his mouth. Mine, he growls, with your flesh in his mouth. He pulls on the taut peak again, another warm rush of your milk, his eyes locked on yours as he sucks from your nipple. It should be wrong, maybe it is, but like you’d said, the sex is still filthy, everything else is pure.

“We can’t,” you whisper, carding your fingers through the long locks of his messy curls, the strands cool and soft at the ends, but hot and damp at the roots. You can feel your pulse thrumming at your throat, the insides of your wrists, the back of your knees. The slide of your wet cunt against his abdomen has the heat between the both of you ricocheting up to a sweltering dampness, and despite your protests, you moan as his hands roll you against him. “They’ll be up soon and banging on that door, you know it. Ellie and Dina can only hold them off for so long.” The girls had spent the night, not only so they could be here for birthday breakfast, but so that the two of you could spend a few extra peaceful moments in bed without three raucous monsters climbing in with you.

“Don’t care – need you now.” He levers his head up off the pillow, following the swing of your breast until he can catch it with his mouth, teeth gently scraping across the bud. Joel, you whimper, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. He makes a self satisfied noise low in his throat, crushing you to himself and sucking hard on your skin, pulling a strangled moan from your throat. Trying to pull away, grabbing his marauding hands, you try to pin him down with your entire weight, small fingers clasping around the thick of his wrists and pressing them back into the pillows. The two of you pause to take each other in for a second, I love you, he mouths up at you, silent, eyes on fire. You can’t help the deep flush, trying to swallow your smile and shake your head at him in mock disapproval, pinning him harder. “That isn’t gonna work, little thing. Got the strength of a butterfly.”

“Shut up.” You lean forward, pressing your mouth to the thick bulge of his bicep, dragging your teeth across the swell. “You’re mine – I do what I want.” He gives you a soft, conceding laugh, and you press kisses along his shoulder, across his collarbone, letting the long tresses of your hair snake like water over his face, his chest, his stomach. Scooting down his belly to nuzzle at the springy hair covering his chest, little tongue darting out against his nipple, smiling at the sound of his soft gasp. Further, further down, kisses to his soft belly, thicker around the middle now, sympathy weight, he calls it. But he’s so strong, and so endless, and you need him so much. You wiggle between his legs, forcing him to spread his thick thighs to make space for you and nip at the sensitive inner slope there. Nuzzling his hairy limbs, you pause to look up at him, cheek resting there, feeling the restrained strength of his muscles. The two of you go quiet for a second, taking each other in, and there’s so much said in his gaze. He brings his hand to the crown of your head, cupping the small bowl of your skull in his palm, and smiles a little, a teasing crook of his eyebrow, and you can’t help but laugh, turning your face to hide your own smile in his thigh.

“What’cha gonna do, baby?” Hmm, he croons down at you, sliding his fingers through your hair. You sneak your fingers below the waistband of his boxers again, tugging them down to free the straining, thick cock and heavy balls. You press a barely there kiss to the skin just beside the base and watch as his length jumps, flushed head starting to leak. You give him another wry look, and he runs his fingers along the line of your jaw, up the slope of your cheek bone, hot touch following the wing of your brow. It’s all soft caresses and the sort of comfort that only comes from knowing another person almost better than you know yourself. You finally bend down and press a kiss at the tip, opening your mouth to let your tongue flutter along the soft, spongey curve. He lets out a long, restrained breath through his nostrils, fingers still roaming along your face, through your hair as you start to take him deeper into your mouth, levering yourself up over his groin so that he has a better view of your breasts and hair dragging over his thighs. A desperate groan, and you smile around his cock, you know him too well. You drag the flat of your tongue along the ridged base, a swirl around the fat head, his hand cupped at the nape of your neck. You can feel the pulse and throb of him against your tongue, and you moan around him, fluttering lashes tickling your cheeks, you want to feel that pulse at the core of you, deep where he owns you. “Yeah, baby,” voice soft and strained, trying to swallow the sound of his own pleasure in the hollow quiet of your still sleeping home. “Hum a little song around daddy’s cock, little bird.” And your eyes flash hot and desperate up to his own. A wash of heat spreads from the crown of your head to the tips of your curling toes, backs of your knees smarting, pussy going tight and desperate as a knot. You wrap both hands around the length of him and focus your suctioning mouth at the head, moaning wantonly, twisting your palms around the slick spit left by your tongue.

“Fuck, yes – yes, yes yes. That’s perfect, you’re doing so good, Birdie. Just like that.” He bears his teeth at you, a wash of color spreading across the crests of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. You slide your slick hands down to cup his balls and take him to the back of your throat, moaning ragged and choked around the too thick length, swallowing repeatedly, trying to breathe through your nose, eyes smarting and thighs clenching. His fingers twist in your hair painfully, and he swells almost impossibly bigger in your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, baby. Don’t swallow, don’t swallow.” He hasn’t stopped looking at you, eyes wide and frenzied. You pull back, squeezing his sack as he starts to spurt, thick and salty into your mouth. “Don’t swallow, lemme see. Gimme my birthday present, show me–” You pull away from his soaked cock, mouth sticky with semen, and present your tongue for him, the milky viscousness dripping sloppy while you continue to jack his still spitting length. He sits up suddenly, cock still fisted in your working hand to grip your jaw in his strong fingers. His eyes are filled with a sort of mania only you know how to bring out in him now that he’s been mostly tamed, and you bring your other hand up to your face, scooping the spurted drops of come on your cheeks onto your white splattered tongue. “Perfect fucking thing,” he growls. “You do what I say,” he gives your captured jaw a rough, little jostle. “Swallow now.” You close your mouth and obey, “Open again – lemme see,” sticking your now pink tongue out at him, he leans forward and licks into you, tasting himself. Filthy, filthy, filthy. I fucking love you, you can’t tell who says it, it doesn’t really matter.

The farmhouse is a short ways outside of Jackson. He’d picked it after Lena was born, Kate and Clara had been two, and Connie would soon be on the way. The family needed more space, four children was a lot to manage, and he wanted his girls to have room to grow and play. You’d let him do as he pleased, and made the trek into the clinic every afternoon at first, but had taken on a partner two years ago, Jamie. She’d come to Jackson with her own medical background, and with four babies at home, the help was more than welcome.

The house is old, but made of strong bones that Joel had painstakingly refurbished and now cared for meticulously. Filled with sturdy furniture he’d mostly made by hand, thick rugs and soft glowing lamps and books, books everywhere. And something else, something unknowable and invisible, but that was immediately obvious, nonetheless. A sort of love that was in such overabundance; it was an unbelievable sort of thing that a creature that had lived as he had could have ended up here, surrounded by all this goodness. Joel knows it is only because of you, all only your doing, his ending up here like this.

As you step into the large dining and living space you stop abruptly, his chest bumping into your back, hands going to your hips to steady you. Your head cocks slowly to the side as you take in the new addition to the kitchen. “What’s that?”

He presses his face into the warm, fragrant skin of your neck, smiling against the tender slope. “Made it for you.” It’s a kitchen table, long and thickly built, the warm oak color polished and cured to a glowing sheen. He’d snuck it in from the barn last night after you’d gone to sleep.

“It’s your birthday, you’re not supposed to be giving me gifts today.” He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand spanning across the soft swell of your postpartum belly. The change your carrying his children had wrought on your body was something that he’d not known would have such an effect of him. But the sight of you most days, wearing nothing but one of his oversized flannels, and his favorite itty bitty, pink, polka dotted panties. Swollen, leaking tits and the lush softness of your belly and hips underneath. Long hair, a tousled mess of a cloud around your head. Too fucking tempting. It brought out something not entirely civilized in him. How was he ever supposed to behave when you were prancing around your home together, surrounded by all your children, being the best mother the world had ever seen. Sometimes the urge to get you pregnant just one more time was almost irresistible. Soft and feminine and his, it did things to him, made him think unspeakable thoughts that he later acted out on you in explicit detail at night, in the privacy of your bedroom. Things had changed after the birth of your children, he had changed, in so many ways, in ways that Joel had never even thought possible. The intimacy, the closeness was something that he’d never even thought possible, something so vulnerable, so tender, his mind hadn’t had the capacity before this to imagine it. He’d never thought, never thought that he could love with an intensity like this, but you’d taught him so many things over the years. You taught him something new every single day.

“It’s for me too,” he murmurs. “And giving you things makes me happy. Seein’ you happy makes me happy. This is my gift to myself.”

You’re quiet for a second, and he feels you tense and hiccup beneath his touch, trying not to cry. Finally, when you’re sure your voice won’t break, “Don’t be cheesy, old man.” But you turn in his arms, going up on your little toes to press your mouth to his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He sighs into the kiss, tasting you slowly, savoring you, feels himself thickening again already, just at the feel and smell of you. When he pulls back to look down at you, sure enough, your eyes are wet and gleaming, a soft flush across your nose. “Thank you, I love it,” A small sniffle.

“Get in there,” he says gently. “Stop provokin’ me.” He gives your bottom a gentle squeeze before letting go.

After he helps you get the girls up and settled, he goes on a long walk with Ellie and Kate, leaving you and Dina to hold down the fort for a while. Sydney, panting along Kate’s gangly, coltish side as they lope ahead of him and Ellie. The old Newfoundland had shown up one day on the front porch, mud and bramble slewn, Kate and Clara had brought her in, told them her name was Sydney, and that had been it, the dog had stayed. The hound, covered in a nearly unmanageable chocolate brown mane, had what he called an old disposition, much like him, Birdie liked to tease, but gentle and slow. The perfect animal to patiently accompany the girls along their misadventures, but large and astute enough to herd and protect when necessary. They liked to wander sometimes, disappearing at any moment, hiding and jumping out to scare the two of you in your frantic searches for them. Trouble the two of them, Kate and Clara together. Clara especially, mind sharp as a whip and an inclination for trouble she could have only gotten from him, if he was being honest. Kate was always the cooler, more level headed voice of the two of them, even at five, nearly six, years old. With those deep blue eyes, like shards of sea glass with the very power of the sun shining through. They’d slipped out of the house a few months ago behind his back, and after his mad search he’d found them wandering, hand in hand, towards the treeline. Short legs setting a slow and stunted pace, Sydney had been following closely at their heels, towering over the two small frames. At the sound of his approach, she’d turned back with an aggressive growl, ready to protect the two vulnerable creatures in her charge, but he’d settled her with a gentle, It’s just me, Syd, and the hound had gone tame and sedate once again. He’d trusted her with them unfailingly ever since.

They were meandering slowly along one of his and Ellie’s favorite paths now, slowly, allowing for child and dog to pause and investigate at will, dew-covered spiderwebs, bright tufts of moss and old, rotted logs covered in bugs Kate begged him to let her bring home.

“Mom gets scared. We don’t want that, do we?”

“Mom doesn’t get scared,” Kate says, scrunching her nose up at him.

“It’s secretly him that gets scared, Katie. Don’t let him fool you,” Ellie tells her. They walk for close to an hour in mostly silence, their ritual of sorts, listening to the sound of the woods around them and Kate’s soft voice going on and on at Sydney, while the dog seemingly pays the closest and most attentive regard possible. The quiet walks, something that calls back to their long journeys all those years ago, a way to remind themselves of where they’d been and what they’d come to.

“What do ya think?” She breaks the silence after they’ve turned back toward home and the breakfast waiting for them.

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.”

He shakes his head, watching Kate’s short leap over a puddle, sighs long and deep, “Dunno – so many things. Nice walk–” He gives her a wry look out of the corner of his eye.

They reach the edge of the woods and pause to watch Kate breaking into a run towards the house, Sydney matching her pace. “I think we did good, don’t you?” He knows she means everything, all of it. Lena, three years old, bursts out of the propped open front door of the house, Dina on her heels. “We kinda made it, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, kiddo. We did good.”

“I drew you a birthday picture, Daddy,” Clara tells him.

“C’mere, my angel. Let’s see it.” Sitting around the new kitchen table, he pulls her up into his lap, Lena following suit to scramble up as well.

There are seven figures: you, drawn with long hair that reaches your feet, Kate, Clara, and Lena, respectively, what he assumes is baby Connie drawn as a miniscule figure eight at your feet, something that resembles a tumble-weed more than a dog, poor Syd, and then… someone drawn as a big circle, with an even bigger head on top. “Where’m I, baby?”

“Right there.” She points at the big, round thing, “I made him soft like you, Daddy.” And she pats his belly so affectionately, looking up at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen, poor Syd – fuck, poor me, he thinks.

“Thanks, baby. I love it.” He squeezes her into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you bent over the kitchen counter trying to strangle yourself in a kitchen towel to muffle the sounds of your hysterical laughter.

After scrambled eggs and hot breads with honey and jam, bacon and fruit and coffee, perfect girl that you are, you’d somehow gotten him a tin of beans as a birthday gift, you bring out what the girls call the pancake cake. A large, wide stack of the fluffiest buttermilk pancakes, all lathered in Dina’s whipped cream, and a mountainous heaping of bright red strawberries. He watches you, a thing akin to awe in his eyes as you set the red and white cloud down in front of him, you’d put on a soft blue dress, robins egg blue, with tiny lace cap sleeves that fluttered with your movements and made his stomach dip and swoop and ache to reach out and toy with them.

“The berries were a gift,” you say with a pleased smile.

“Oh, was it Jeff?” The grocer, Dina asks. “He’s so nice.”

“Who?” Joel frowns.

“Jeff, he works at the market. He–” You pause, a laughing smile playing on your lips. “He wanted me to wish you a happy birthday, baby.” His scowl deepens, your own smile widening.

As soon as the cake’s set in front of him there’s a chubby little hand sneaking forward to stick grubby fingers into the confection. “Lena,” looking down at her, and the hand is immediately snatched back. “Oh, the candles,” you remember as you’re about to take the seat next to him.

“Left them in the back room, with the other stuff I brought,” Dina calls as you head to what’s used as a makeshift laundry room at the back of the house. He gets up quickly, a murmured, I’ll help you look, following you and flicking the door shut behind him, the echoing sound of snickers and Ellie’s hooting, mesmerized by the swish and flow of the blue fabric around your legs, and with a bone to pick.

“You’re not allowed to go to the market anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take Ellie or Dina with you.” He pouts and scowls and fumes behind you as you rifle through the bags they’d brought with them.

“Excuse me?” You say again, voice soft and patient, infused with just a tinge of laughter.

“You want me to say it again?” He steps forward, fingers ghosting through the ends of your long hair, hungry, possessive. “And who gave you permission to talk to other men?” And you snicker, not taking him seriously even a little bit. He wraps his arms around you, pressing you forward to squeeze your tits in his big hands, he’s obsessed, grinding his groin into the soft round of your ass. He drags his hands over the dips and contours of your body, squeezing lush curves as he goes, reaching to wrap around the delicate architecture of your jaw and pull your face around to look at him, taking in the beautiful heart shape of your mouth.

“Joel–” you chastise.

“Five minutes.”

“Behave, they’re gonna–”

“Don’t care. It’s my birthday.” He nuzzles your hair, searching for the small shell of your ear. “Just want a kiss, Birdie bird.”

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” but you turn in his arms anyways, pressing your mouth to his, licking into him before you’ve even fully got the words out. He gropes you, sliding a knee between your thighs to press against your mound and roll you against himself. Cupping the nape of your neck, he eats at you, sliding his tongue along yours. He can hear the desperate sound of his breath rattling in his own chest, and he slides his mouth down the slope of your neck, a soft nip to the tiny pulse there. He groans low in his chest, cock hard and straining against his jeans. “They takin’ them for the night, still?” He asks panting.

“They are,” voice a whimper, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging in frustration. You push him back by the shoulders, laughing gently, as you wiggle out from between his steaming, hard body and the counter. “Come on. Ellie’s gonna give you hell.” He braces his palms against the edge, head hanging trying to will his erection down and catch his breath. Jesus, Birdie.

“Mama, why did Daddy go in there with you?” Clara’s little voice sounds as he steps back out into the kitchen behind you.

“He was helping me–”

“They were making you another baby sister,” Ellie supplies unhelpfully, big fucking grin. Joel drags his thumb across his throat, staring daggers.

“How do they do that?” Kate asks.

Ellie’s mouth opens, readying to worsen the situation, “Ellie–” Joel warns.

Dina, ever the voice of reason, tells them patiently, “They write a letter to a stork, sweet. And then nine months later, he brings a baby.”

The girls are all quiet for a beat, digesting this newfound, eternally fascinating piece of information, until Kate says, in that solemn and level headed way of hers, hands primly set at the edge of the table, “I think the stork has come to our house too many times.”

Ellie cackles uncontrollably, Bridie’s giggle following suit, until the lot of them are caught in a net of laughter. Joel lets his head fall back, thumbs tucked at his belt, letting a long sigh out. “Jesus.”

“Jesus!” A little voice yells out in imitation.

“What is a stork?”

“A bird,” Ellie provides.

“Is that why mama is Birdie? Because she makes the baby come?”

“Yeah, baby. That’s why,” You tell Kate, smoothing a gentle hand over the crown of her bright blonde head. Inquisitive little thing. With your other hand you flick Ellie in the back of the head. Mother fucker, you mouth at her affronted look.

“Father fucker,” she mouths back with a snicker.

Once the candles are securely in the cake and lit, and Clara’s added her ever helpful, Mama, we need one thousand more candles, Daddy is so old, he nudges his head at you. “Come be a good girl, and sit on my lap,” he says quietly. You perch on the strong expanse of his thigh, one arm around the back of his neck, the other coming to entwine with the fingers of his hand at your waist, twisting the gold band of his ring round and round his finger.

The girls sing Happy Birthday, Daddy, at the top of their lungs, and you watch him watch them, the clenching of his jaw, those fine little muscles that wrap around his mandible, fluttering as he grinds his back molars together, the ripple of his throat as he swallows again and again. The corners of his eyes go a little wet, tears lining the edges of those gorgeous hazel eyes as he stares into the flames of his birthday candles while the girls sing to him – off key, off harmony, so full of love. Clara clambers up onto his other knee midway through, plants herself on the endlessly strong surface of her father’s thigh, the safest place in the whole world. “Happy birthday, Daddy. I love you,” she whispers up at him, laying her little head on his shoulder, gazing at him with those same hazel green eyes that reflect his own image back at him, remind him of another little girl he’ll never stop missing, and he brings his hand up to cradle the back of her skull in his large palm, presses his lips to her forehead, love you so much, baby girl, whispered into her skin. Your first baby. His eyes fill further, and they flutter closed, trying to contain all that you know he’s feeling right now. Your hand on the back of his neck strokes softly at the overly long curls, soft and thick. You press your thumb into the notch of his skull, anchor yourself there, I’m here, I’m here, we are here together, look at all we have, and he turns to look at you, his cheek resting on your daughter's head. “Thank you,” he says, and you know that he means for all of it.

Cheering squeals, laughter, and the padding rush of little feet over the floorboards as the rest of them start to run around the table, shrieking fills the air as they scramble over him, trying to climb up as well. He buries his face in your hair and shudders as he presses a tiny kiss to the soft lobe of your ear. Look at all we have. The whole world right here at our kitchen table.

The birthday of a perfectly happy man is spent like this: a long breakfast with the woman of his dreams and all his daughters surrounding, a lazy afternoon, trying to doze on the deep, lumpy couch, intermittently interrupted by a knobby knee and a sharp little elbow to the gut or thigh, lunch and peach cream popsicles on the porch, watching the clouds, searching for shapes like treasures in the deep blue sky.

He thinks of Sarah, as he lays there surrounded by her sisters. The sweet shape of her face, the dove green of her eyes surrounded by the thickest, darkest lashes he’s still ever seen to this day, Lena’s eyes are the exact same shade, the texture of her curly hair beneath his palm. Her memory is faded now, after so long, but he works it like a muscle in his mind every day, a staunch refusal to ever let her go. And no matter how far away he moves from that day, he still asks himself sometimes: How does one grapple with the loss of something that big, something that essential? He’s lived with a hole in his heart in the shape of a little girl for so long, decades, but now, with all of this surrounding him, he also has so many things that leave his heart so full he’s almost bursting with it. The two opposing feelings often leave him feeling bloated and without space within himself, and yet, he always finds another nook or cranny for more. Even when it’s left him tired, when his remembered past hangs over his head so that he feels, sometimes, like his edges are disjointed, not glued together symmetrically, you’re there to put him back to rights.

And the memory will always be painful, it will never not hurt. It’ll never not be agony. But it’s easier now, to recall all the wonderful, all the good. Sometimes, he almost feels afraid of the intensity of this happiness, but in those moments, when that old fear returns you’re able to recognize even that, like everything else in his heart you know as well as your own, and you take him into your arms, reminding him that his whole life is right here in this house now, that you’ve saved him.

“Look at the clouds, Daddy. There’s shapes.”

Sprawled in the lush grass in front of the house, the three girls surrounding him. He presses a kiss to Lena’s soft curls, “Look at that one,” he says, “What d'ya see there?”

“A bunny,” Kate says with all the self assurance of knowing she’s the eldest sister, and thus, the wisest.

“A bunny? You sure?”

“Yes, Daddy. Don’t you see it?” Clara interjects. “He has big ears and funny whiskers just like yours.” Raucous giggles and screeches after that as they jump over and across him, with claims that he needs reminding how a bunny hops and leaps.

Eventually, when they settle, Birdie brings out more cake, leaves the four of you to sit in a huddle criss-cross-apple-sauce and discuss the woes of kindergarten at the school house in town.

“Mama told me I’m not allowed to bite,” Clara gives an exasperated huff, abandoning her cake to melt into the grass and crawl into his lap. “She bites a lot,” Kate adds. Irritated, pushing unruly curls out of her strawberry red face, “But– but I don’t like that Mama said that to me, Daddy,” she continues, looking at him very seriously, “I like to bite so much,” followed by the most conniving smile he’s ever seen, besides Ellie’s, blooming proudly across her angel sweet face. He’s forced to swallow his laugh and explain the merits of listening to her mother, something they must all do. When he turns back to look at Lena, she’s licking the spilled whipped cream out of the grass. They have to go inside for baths after that.

At Kate’s behest, they have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner that night. Tommy, Maria and their son joining the family alongside Nancy, so that the table’s chock full of the people who care about him, all coming together to celebrate one more year of Joel’s life. By the end of the meal, he has all three girls perched on his lap, eating spaghetti off of his plate because, Daddy, it just tastes so much better from yours, obviously. He’s never been able to say no to them, and he isn’t about to start tonight, and you roll your eyes, but you also look at him with that gleam that tells him that if he asked you for another baby tonight, you’d probably not say no. They eat his food and yank on his hair and stab him with pointy sharp elbows in the ribs repeatedly, at one point someone sticks their finger up his nose, pulling his nostrils apart to look inside.

“Daddy, why do you have so many hairs all over?”

“It’s so dark and scary in there, Daddy.”

Clara nods so fast her curls bounce up and down around her head, “I feel scared when I look up there,” green eyes wide.

“What are they for, Daddy?”

Questions volleyed at him so fast he doesn’t have a chance to answer a single one of them. “If you eat spaghetti, will your boogers taste like spaghetti after?” Ellie, ever brilliant and helpful, suggests they try some to verify the theory.

“What is verify?” One asks.

“And what is seery?” Another calls. Birdie’s red in the face with laughter, and Joel feels very tired and very old and very ready to take his wife to bed.

“A theory is when you think about something,” Tommy says, and gives him that look he’s wont to throw his way when he’s about to make fun of Joel for not being able to keep it in his pants and stop procreating.

“And verify is to make sure,” Joel tells them.

“What is to make sure?”

“To know something.”

Kate nods solemnly, while Clara pauses, and then says, “I don’t think I know anything.” That worried sort of look only a five year old can get when an idea is just too big, crossing her little face.

Chuckles sound around the table, “That’s alright, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about it.”

As they say good night, the girls packed and ready to spend the night at Tommy and Maria’s, Ellie and Dina taking baby Connie, Ellie pokes and prods at you.

“Would you quit, you little shit.”

“Dinner was nice, step mommy,” giving you a smarmy little smirk.

“You know, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“It’s serious.”

She cocks an eyebrow at you, “Spit it.”

“Well, I was wondering if you’re going through something right now? If you’re okay?”

“What? What do you mean?” Face twisted in confusion.

You snicker, pulling on the ends of her recently shorn hair, “Then what’s up with the new fuck ass little bob you’ve got going on?” She slaps you away, swatting at your arms, reaching down to get at your thighs too.

“Fuck you, mother fucker,” she laughs, trying to yank on your hair too.

“Stop it. You have to respect me. I’m your step mother, remember?”

“You’re so annoying.” You hear Joel call at the two of you to knock it off, but goes entirely ignored.

“Poor Dina’s gotta look at this mess. Let her know if she ever needs to get away from it, she can come stay here any time she likes.”

“I hate you,” she laughs, and you pull her in for a tight hug, another pinch to your side before she hugs you back.

“Tough shit, I love you.” She squeezes you tight, grumbles a little before returning the sentiment.

“Thank you,” she whispers into your shoulder, “For making him so fuckin’ happy.” You squeeze her tight as you can before she shoves you away, pretending not to sniffle and rolling her eyes at you. “Now stop being so fucking weird and sappy, and say good night to your football team.”

“Blood Meridian again?” You ask him from where you’re standing at the kitchen island, snipping the ends of the flowers Nancy had brought with her and arranging them in a vase. “How many times’ve you read that?” He’s sitting on the sofa, facing you, reading glasses sitting crooked and bent on his nose from where someone’s little foot had crushed the frames. You watch the flicker of his gaze as he peeks at the page number, and then snaps the book shut. He never uses a bookmark, always just remembers.

“Dunno–” big sigh, long stretch, “More than I can count now, I suppose.” He settles back into the couch, pushing his hips forward to slouch deep, tired, spreading his thighs wide, tempting you. You finish with the flowers, walking the vase to take center stage on the new table. At the far end of the table, right by your spot, he’s carved a tiny little sparrow into the surface of the oak. The etching so fine, so delicate, in comparison to the sight of him, big and brusque. It would be almost unbelievable to someone who didn’t know him as you do, who didn’t know the violence he’d endured to make him so gentle, someone who hadn’t watched him pull your newborn daughters from your own body, who hadn’t witnessed the incredible sight of him cradling those tiny little babies in his infinitely strong arms. You turn back to look at him over the hill of your shoulder, taking in the sight of him watching you, appraising your form. The slow rove of his eyes starting at your bare feet, moving up your legs as if his gaze was a physical manifestation of his hands on your skin, over the swell of your bottom, the slope of your spine, the fine crest of your shoulder, landing on your face. You can see his eyes moving over the planes of you, your chin, your mouth, cheeks, your eyes. He lands there, stays. You know he’ll be hard beneath his jeans when you go over to him.

“C’mere – come sit on me,” voice soft and sultry.

“Sit on you?”

“Mhmm, come tell me how much you love me.” He pats his thigh, and you move towards him slowly, shaking your head at him.

“Needy.” You reach him, hitching your knee over his lap to straddle him, and he pulls you close and tight against his warm, wide chest.

“So needy.” He nuzzles into the fine tendrils of hair over your forehead, his breath hot and soft on your skin. “Need ya so much, Birdie.” A soft kiss to your temple, another to the flared end of your eyebrow, and you squirm on his lap, hot and restless and needy also, a fine thrumming ache flaring throughout the various pressure points in your body. Your throat, the inner curves of your elbows, the backs of your knees, deep in the pit of your belly. You feel weak and trembling, and he fills his hand with your hair, bringing it to his face and rubbing the soft curls against his cheek. “It’s time I take you to bed, isn’t it?” You hum against his collarbone, taking in the scent of his skin, fresh and clove-like, cedar sap and sage and Joel, you nod slowly against him.

He runs a bath for the two of you, filling the deep clawfoot tub in the master bathroom. He’d outfitted the house from the get-go with the same system for electricity and water that Jackson ran on. And he pulls your clothes from you slowly, running rough, caressing hands over the sensitive slopes of your curves, gentle pinches and squeezes to the places he likes most which is all of you. When the two of you sink into the tub, he sits between your legs, wide back leaning back on your chest so that you can run your hands along the strong breadth of him. You taste the water off his skin and listen to the sound of him rumble and purr like some sort of overgrown wolf beneath your touch.

“Did Clara tell you what happened at school yesterday?”

“Said you told her no more biting.”

“Did you tell you she punched some poor boy?”

“She did what?” He tenses, long fingers wrapping tightly around the circumference of your ankle in his lap.

“She called one of the boys in her class, and I quote, a little fucker, and then socked him in the nose.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Clara,” he sighs, laying his head back on your shoulder. “Why in the hell did she do that?”

“She’s your daughter.”

He hums as if he can’t bring himself to disagree with the reasoning. “Little fucker probably deserved it.”

“You’re not supposed to call children fuckers, Joel.” He grunts. “She also told him that her dad was going to beat up his dad.”

“Oh my God. I’m too old for this shit.”

“They’re heathens because of you. I hope you know this.”

“They ain’t heathens. They’re perfect.”

“You weren’t saying that last week when they painted your face blue.”

“Jesus, you’re right. Thought it was never comin’ off.” You snort, rolling your eyes at him, but hugging him closer. The best father anyone could ever want for their children, surely. “Gotta teach her how to throw a good punch,” he adds to himself.

You wash each other’s hair after that, taking turns lathering each other up, rinsing out the suds, and when he’s finished with you, he carries you to bed. Lays you out like his own personal feast and tastes you everywhere. The pads of your water-wrinkled toes, the backs of your knees, the crest of each hip bone, cruelly bypassing the place you need him most. Dragging his mouth over your stomach, tongue savoring the silvery streaks left behind by the growth of your daughters inside of you, over your nipples, dark and swollen. His mouth rests at the notch of your throat lightly, and then, whispered against the moist spot he’d made with his tongue, “You’re the only dream I’ve ever had. You know that?” And you tell him that you do, you do know, your husband who is, in his own right, like a dream figure.

Finally, taking pity on you, he slides down between your thighs, making room for the incredible breadth of his shoulders, and gently as possible spreads you apart with his thumbs, takes in the sight of your embarrassingly slick, untouched cunt. He blows a slow stream of cool air over your pulsing clit, and bends his head to lightly drag his tongue over the swollen bundle. And you’re going to cry, real, desperate tears. “Joel, please, don’t be mean.” But he’s never been very good at that.

“Oh, I know,” he tuts, “My poor baby. Been waitin’ all day haven’t you?” He’d purposely not made you come all day. This had been his plan all along, you know it. Another, light as air slip of his tongue, his mouth, sliding down to your leaking opening, mouthing against it, barely there. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the whole world, little bird. You know that?” And he licks your clit for real this time, the broad, flat of it pressing against you in one long, slow swipe. You can’t answer, ragged moan clawing up your throat. You reach for his dark head bent to your sex, one small foot propped against his thick shoulder to anchor yourself as he starts to eat you. Sucking hard and fast on your poor, throbbing clit, moving down to spear the strong muscle of his tongue into your pussy. You want more, you want his cock, you want it, you want it, you want it. He sucks the orgasm out of you, lapping and kissing at your cunt until you’re shuddering and shivering, clenching around that terrible, painful emptiness, leaking onto his tongue, and then surging up quickly. Massive fist around his cock, he presses the drooling head at your clit, teases you there slowly, watches the heave of your breasts as you struggle for breath. You bring your knees up, spread wider, inviting him in, and he notches the head slowly, giving you nothing more than the flared crown. He pauses there, thrusting shallowly, watching your swollen, red pussy swallow him, and head catching on the blushed rim, he spits, rubbing the flat of his fingers over the crest of your sex, the unsheathed length of his cock, and then presses in, in, in, in, all the way. You give a warbled whimper, trying to twist away, clawing at the sheets. You’ll never be used to it, never not enjoy the twinge of hurt when he gives you the whole thing. “Fuckin’ love it when you sing for me, little bird,” he moans. And he doesn’t give you a chance, doesn’t give you a second, he never does, setting a hard and brutal pace, riding your cunt like he owns it, because he does.

He wraps his hand around the round of your breast, squeezing, but still careful of how sensitive you are, thumb flicking at the tender nipple, and you spread your legs wider, one hand hooking beneath the sweaty back of your knee to pull yourself open, your other hand reaching down to cup the swinging weight of his balls as he thrusts up into you. He bares his teeth at you, wide palm landing with a little snapping slap low on your pelvis to press down, feel himself from the outside as you squeeze his balls. He shakes his head at you, fire in his eyes, “You’re gonna end up pregnant again, Birdie,” voice chastising, a little like a threat.

You close your eyes, back arching to take him deeper, don’t care, you want to say. “N– no, noooo, can’t” you pant instead, “Can’t get pregnant – breastfeeding.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time, little girl.” He lets himself fall forward, the bone of his pelvis grinding against your clit, and your cunt goes tight and so, so fucking wet, throbbing and fluttering around him, trying to suck him deeper, working around the hard invasion as you start to come. His sweaty, steaming head falls to your breast, mouthing wetly, fucking you through it, just like that, he murmurs, my perfect girl.

“Don’t– Don’t come in my pussy then.”

“No?” He slows his thrusts once he’s felt the trembling of your walls around him settle, lets his hips seesaw in and out slow and languorous, long provoking strokes. “Should I fill that sweet ass instead?” And despite the fierce blush that washes along the length of your body, you nod shyly at him, running your hands down his belly. The fact that he still possesses the ability to drive you to shyness after all this– “Say it, baby. I gotta hear it.” You flush impossibly deeper, little toes curling in humiliated excitement and lust.

“Please, daddy, please– I want it in my ass.” He pulls out suddenly, the lewd wet squelch of your cunt closing hungry around nothing. He spreads his fingers over the length of your sex, slick, gleaming cock, flushed so red it’s almost purple, veins pulsing along the length. “Gorgeous thing,” he murmurs as he starts to pet at your ass gently, thumb swiping, giving you light pressure, and then pushing in slowly, slowly. Your mouth falls open, gasping, eyes wide and wet and probably, definitely, a little pleading. “Lemme in, Birdie. Let me have this sweet little hole.” You nod, a marionette caught on his string, hips starting to hitch and follow the thrust of his invading thumb. “I’m gonna fill it with my come, and then watch it drip out of you. That what you want, baby?” Yes, yes. He pulls his thumb from you, slides his slick hand over your leaking sex again, and then fists his cock, the dull pressure of the wide head at your back entrance, pushing in slowly, making you feel the stretch and burn of it. Your fingers claw and scrape against his chest and abdomen, trying to pull him towards you, push him away, legs shifting restlessly at his sides until he’s buried to the hilt, heavy sac pressed against the curve of your bottom. Sweat slides in steaming rivulets down his temples, his neck, and a bright red flush moves across his chest and up his thick neck. You watch a violent shudder jerk through him, lashes fluttering closed, and then screwing shut tightly as he tries to control the rush of his oncoming orgasm. He runs his hands up your stomach, the dips of your waist and hips, wrapping around your breasts. “You’re doing so well, my little love.” He opens his eyes to take you in, pulls his hips back, and then pushes in again. “Taking my fat cock in this tiny hole. Look how messy and wet your greedy cunt is. You want me to fuck you here too?” He pulls your lips apart, wide, thrums at your swollen clit, and then starts to press a single finger slowly into your pussy. And oh, it’s too much, it’s too much, stretched and stuffed so full of him everywhere, the play of his fingers also on your clit, he starts to fuck your ass in hard, jolting thrusts, growling your name through clenched teeth.

“Look at it,” he spits, “Look at where I’m fucking you open. Look at how you’re all fucking mine.” Your heart beating out of your chest, insides twisting and throbbing, you take in the sight of your blushed sex stretched to obscenity around him, his soaking fingers, two of them now, pressing slowly in and out of your cunt as he slams into your ass. You let your head fall back, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come – oh God.” You cross your arms over your face to hide the sight of your overwhelmed tears, and he pulls his fingers out to slap the top of your cunt in a single stinging swat that you feel reverberate in the place he’s impaling you with his cock. “Nuh uh, you let me look at that gorgeous face when you come all over me.”

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t – it’s too much.

He doesn’t give you a choice. There’s never been much of that where he’s concerned. Everything below your navel goes painfully tight, white light streaking across your eyes as you twist and writhe beneath him, and he follows suit, starts to fill you in thick pulses, the heat of his spend coating your insides with a savage snarl of your name, the breath nearly knocked out of you with the intensity of your shared orgasm. He lets his weight fall over you, pressing you into the bed, massive body shivering and jerking, buried deep inside of you, and after the last spit of his cock, he pulls from you slowly, moaning softly and rolls the both of you over. Draping your listless form over his chest, arranging your limbs how he pleases. You shiver and feel the sweat cool along the slope of your spine, enjoy the tickle of your lashes catching in the coarse hair of his chest. You feel him play with the long tresses of your hair, draping them over his chest and shoulders, rubbing the smell of you against himself. Picking up the hand curled over his shoulder, he absently draws the backs of your fingers against the edge of his jaw and his ear, kissing and sucking on the soft tips.

“Tell me you love me,” you tell him.

“I love you, Birdie.”

Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

“Tell me that you’ll always love me.”

“I’ll always love you. For the rest of my life, as long as I live, I’ll love you.”

Nights later, after the excitement of celebration has died down, and the family’s settled back into peaceful routine, you think about when you’d first realized you were pregnant with Clara, and how you’d worried the news would disturb the happiness and peace he’d fought so hard to find for so many years, terrified that in some way, you’d force him into a situation he didn’t want, wasn’t prepared for. Now, looking across your large bed, two dark, curly heads, another bright, blonde as a star, separating the two of you while he sleeps deep and peacefully, Connie in her crib at your side, you are once again, like so many other times, hit with the full appreciation for the miracle this family is, how wrong you were to ever worry about it being anything but.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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#FoG fic #Joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller x original character #Joel Miller x ofc #joel miller x you

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teddybeartoji · 7 months ago

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let me tell u this idea i have of going to the club with bestie!roomie!toji

you're all comfy in his lap, back against his broad chest, in a private booth (thank you shiu) while the others in the group are busy drinking or on the dance floor. but you are more than content with just staying with toji. the way his hand strokes up and down your back, occasionally, going over your hip and playfully squeezing your ass as he feigns innocence !!

trying to get him back by teasing him, pouting as you tell him that you want his opinion on this new outfit you bought bc you don't know if the color fits you. and he does NOT expect to see you open a picture of you posing in the mirror in cute pink lingerie that hugs you in all the right places. “i like this one, the pink set was so pretty, but i dunno if i like it on me,” you hum

toji is losing his fucking MIND right now, his arms gripping you tighter as he lets out a heavy sigh at the view. he doesn't even get a chance to say anything before you're swiping to the left and you grow a little shy, giving a fake little 'woops'

instead of a picture, it’s a fucking video. a video of you fucking yourself with a toy playing on the screen angled so only he could see!! the volume is low so only you both can hear it and toji can HEAR the wet gushing of your pussy, creaming around the toy as you moaned and begged oh so cutely. “aww...toji, I couldn’t even get the toy all the way in,” you whine. “only got it halfway…”

its taking everything in him not to just fuck you right now, to show you he'd make sure you'd be able to get cock in you all the way. "kook at my best girl, so fuckin' desperate and needy," he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches the video. "tsk, tsk, tsk...poor think, y'should be filled up properly, hm? stretched on my cock til you're taking all of it...i'd make sure ya cream for real, baby doll."

“i wanted t’ send this to you, wanted you t’ see it and tell you t’ come help me get it in me,” you pouted, leaning into him. "plus, when it feels too good i can't help but run away from it, and it makes it sooo hard t' cum, tojiiiii....you wouldn' let me run from it, right, big guy?"

the way you look at him over your shoulder with those pretty eyes that just scream mischief..."mmn, you should've. i would've come over right away. make sure we get some cock into ya like y'need it. stretch you out niiiiice and good, get m'cock into that tight, pretty pussy of yours...like the good best friend i am," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

yeah im insane !!!!

LUNARRRR WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU I WANT YOU SO BAD WHEN I TELL YOU THAT MY EYES POPPED OUT OF MY HEAD I MEAN THAT I HAD TO FUCKING LOOK FOR THEM IN THE DARK BEFORE I COULD DO ANYTHING ELSE RAAAAHHHHHHH

THIS IS SO FUCKING HOT LUNAR I NEED TO MAKEOUT WITH YOU ASAP. FIRST OF ALL THE LINGERIE??????????????????? GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD IT'S SOOFUCKING PRETTY TOJI IS A STRONG STRONG MAN FOR NOT FOLDING IMMEDIATELY BC WTF. OMFG AND I LOOOOOVE THE TOUCHING FUCK IT'S SO HOT LIKE YEAH I WANNA SIT ON HIS LAP AND I WANT HIM TO SQUEEZE MY ASSS AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHSTOP THIS MADNESS RIGHT NOW

WHEN HE RESTS HIS HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER????????????????????????????????????????? I DIED. I DIED I DIED I DIED. THE CLOSENESS IS DRIVING ME INSANE ACTUALLY LUNAR I REALLY DO NEED TO BITE YOU OR SOMETHING YOU'RE SO SEXY AND THEN A KISS ON THE CHEEEEEEK????????? GODDD I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST SOLDIERRRRR I WANT TO SUCK HIM RIGHT THEREEEEEEEE BALLS AND EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND YOU KNOW HE'S GETTING BRICKED BC YOU CAN JUST FEEL IT POKING AT YOU FROM BEHIND FUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKMMM

he calls the cab bc he wants to help his bestie out:(((( but then he's getting soooooooo handsy in the cab already bc how could he not:((( the video keeps replaying in his head and you just keep staring at him with these mischievous eyes and he kinda just wants to eat you yk

his fingers keep kneading your thighs as you play with the hair on his nape andmmmmmmmmmmmmmm he's so hard it fucking hurtss. and when you're finally at your place he doesn't even let you properly open the fucking door bc he just needs his lips on you whewww he's such a good friend:(((((((((((((((((((((((((( he's gonna teach you how to take it and he's not gonna let you run away:((((((((((((((((((((he's so perfect lunar i need him so fucking bad i just drooled on my shirt what the actual fuck

#WAHH I'M SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY MY BELOVED #I JUST HAD TO RUB ONE OUT BEFORE YK #AND BY ONE I MEAN A HUNDRED #LUNAR YOU'RE LITERALLY SOOOOOO SEXY I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING BAD HOLY FUCKING SHIT #THIS WAS THE BEST LITTLE TREAT I COULD'VE EVER ASKED FOR #FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKMEEEEEEE #lunar <3 #friends!!#toji #toji smut #mickey is daydreaming #bsf!toji #roomie!toji #(he jerks off every night to you btw)#(he's such a fucking perv)#(and i'm so wet i think i'm gonna pass out)#toji fushiguro #jjk toji

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maxdibert · 6 days ago

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It shouldn’t surprise me that the Arcane fandom has a hefty dose of internalized misogyny, but honestly, it’s exhausting to constantly see how female characters are judged, condemned, and demonized for the simple "sin" of being complex, layered, and morally questionable, while the fandom favorite is a drug lord who used a populist, nationalist rhetoric to justify child exploitation and drug trafficking that poisoned the very people he claimed to defend. Yes, I’m talking about Silco. The same Silco who threw a little girl in prison and took her younger sister, making her believe her older sister didn’t care about her anymore. The same Silco who projected his traumas onto a kid and manipulated her into being his weapon. The same Silco who posed as the "people’s champion" while being one of the main reasons the people were dying in the first place.

And don’t get me wrong—I love Silco. He’s a fantastic villain, and his relationship with Jinx is as fascinating as it is deeply uncomfortable at times. But it feels incredibly cynical to see people excuse all the atrocities he committed, or at least try to understand them, while they spent all of season one attacking characters like Mel for being ambitious and power-hungry, doing morally questionable things. Sorry, but none of Mel’s actions in season one even come close to Silco’s level of ethical depravity with the whole shimmer situation, yet Mel got dragged.

Vi—perhaps the series’ ultimate punching bag of suffering—who lost her parents, stepped up to take care of her sister, carried the responsibility of being the eldest (as tasked by Vander to protect the group), lost her "siblings" and "father" in one night, got wrongfully imprisoned as a kid, spent years in jail for nothing, only to come out and see that her sister had turned into a monster and that the man responsible for their adoptive father’s death was now the kingpin of the Undercity—was treated like absolute crap by the fandom. Why? Because she didn’t understand or accept that her younger sister was suddenly cool with a man who was poisoning the city? The same man who killed their father figure? I remember people calling Silco the "Father of the Year" and Vi the "Worst Sister of the Decade," and I was genuinely floored. Like, as a meme, sure, it’s funny. But as an actual take? The level of cognitive dissonance is wild.

And now, in this season, of course, the hate is all directed at Caitlyn. Why? Because instead of being the idealistic nepo baby who dreams of coexistence like in season one, she’s dealing with severe PTSD after being kidnapped and witnessing a missile nearly obliterate her mother. And people just can’t seem to grasp that. They can understand a man going from revolutionary to drug lord, using the idea of freedom and the people’s anger to expand his shady business and exploit children, but they can’t understand a young woman becoming incredibly violent out of a thirst for revenge.

What these reactions tell me is that men can be the absolute worst scum narrative writing has ever birthed, and it’s fine because everyone will bend over backwards to understand their motivations or at least where they’re coming from. But if we’re talking about women who aren’t compliant, who overreact, who struggle to manage their emotions or trauma, or who don’t behave the way women are "supposed" to behave, there’s no room for understanding. No excuses, no empathy. They’re just bitches, villains, or—like people are now saying about Caitlyn—"fascists."

Look, the fact that people are calling Caitlyn a fascist while never using that term for Silco—who was literally a despot—isn’t just cognitive dissonance; it’s hypocrisy at its finest.

#arcane #arcane netflix #caitlyn kiramman #mel medarda #vi #arcane vi #arcane mel #arcane caitlyn #silco #arcane silco #Excusing shitty men while condemning shitty women is misogyny.#i'm very annoyed btw #some people in this fandom is just... ugh #i mean silco turns me on too but he was still a scumbag #well i'm done

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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

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'Til Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the Musical)

Intro: You play a game with Floyd Leech. At the end of it all, you both get hurt.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, high schoolers doing things high schoolers should not be doing, do not imitate, Floyd Leech comes with a warning of his own, google translated French, bad words

A/N: Don't mind me just casually vaguely mentioning my oc see if you can spot 'em huehuehue

Masterlist

Yes, I look perfect

Ice Queen, that's what you see

It's what they all expect from me

But it's all show!

Go to school, they said. It'll be fun, they said. You're so gorgeous you definitely won't have a hard time fitting in with everyone, they said. You think to yourself as you jot down notes on paper, that if you ever found out who "they" were, you would push them out a window and watch them fall splat on the pavement into nothing but what was previously a meat puppet. Your eye catching good looks didn't mean shit back when you were being homeschooled by your parents in Africa, but Coral Shore High is not nearly as subtle in its staring as the monkeys and lions you used to talk to. You feel too many eyes on you and it makes you grip your pen tighter and wish to stab them all out one by one.

You thought humans had more decorum.

The fucking parakeets had more etiquette, that's for sure. Especially when you're making your way to the cafeteria and some girl trips (a little too obviously) right into your arms. She's all blushy and fidgety when you gently push her upright on the ground, and she thanks you and offers her number.

"Oh." You say with a blank stare. "We didn't have phones back in Africa."

"I could teach you if you—"

"Sorry, I don't have a phone."

With that beautifully blatant lie, you walk off to line up in the canteen to grab a tray of food, surprisingly more edible than movies portrayed high school food to be. You stand still and scout out which table is most optimal, and end up getting flagged down by some tall, champagne blond hottie with purple tips in his hair. He's definitely at least as attractive as you, so you think that he won't be slobbering all over you like the guys you sat with yesterday. It only takes a few steps for some wall to bump into you, teal hair and mismatched eyes and muscle and sharp teeth, leering down at you for only a second before marching off.

"Watch where you're walkin', shrimpy."

You don't appreciate the nickname, but you ignore it and go sit down next to the beautiful blond man. It's your lucky day because Vil Schoenheit is a model, full on desensitized from faces like yours. And he feels like a naggy mother with the way he grills you over your choice in food. He's kind, but it's hidden behind words so sharp they could stab you right in the gut. Rook Hunt is another handsome blond, if not a little unsettling when he fawns over your beauty in mixed French, and he gives off similar vibes to poachers your parents used to ward off in the savana. Epel Felmier is more cutesy than Vil's regal brilliance or Rook's off-putting handsomeness, but he threatens to throw hands when you say he's pretty.

Well, maybe you can fit in, after all.

Face it, you used me

You saw the sexy clothes

My supermodel pose

What did you know?

You should have stayed with the pretty trio instead wandering on your own. In your defense, you were just walking to class and minding your own business. Except, said class is in a building with the entire football field across the one you were in, and said football field has, regrettably, the football team playing on it. You feel nothing but disgust when the wolf whistles reach you, and absolute abhorrence when three guys with very punchable faces approach you with sly smirks, the rest of the team watching on.

"Hey sexy. You look like you could use some lovin'~"

You roll your eyes and keep walking. Surely, this is a clear enough sign of your disinterest, yes?

"Oh, playin' hard to get. That's hot."

"You're cute when you're mad."

"Baby, you wanna skip class with us and—"

You give them your best, and most charming smile.

Rook taught you that everyone deserves to see beauty before they feel excruciating pain. And you're sure, when your knee meets three different pairs of balls in succession, that the rest of the team sharply takes in a breath. "You wanna have more fun, boys?" You drawl lazily with a soft grin. "I have a little bit of time to play with you."

They don't answer as they curl up on the grass in pain. Satisfied with your handywork, you go back to walking to your calculus class.

You don't notice trouble, but he notices you.

"Are you interested in them?" Jade asks, clad in comfortable casual clothes while sat on the bleachers as he hands Floyd a bottle of water. Floyd laughs and eyes his three teammates who were struggling to get back up. And then, inevitably, back to you. "See Jade, I thought it was just another shrimp. But now I think they're more like a sting ray." He licks his lips. "That's fun. I like fun. I wanna try 'em."

Jade chuckles along with him.

Was I a game to you?

Was I a way to be cool?

I truly cared

Was I the fool?

"You hooked up with who, now?"

Vil's gaze has a way of making you feel like every decision you've ever done is stupid. To be fair to him, however, this one certainly is. You grimace and take a sip of your energy drink, pointing at one of the guys practicing on the basketball court. Floyd shoots a three-pointer and grins your way, flexing his shoulders so that the scratch marks you'd left last night peek out of his jersey.

"How in the world are you so infuriating?! Do you know who that is?"

"I mean, I was drunk." You sigh. Vil looks at you like a disappointed parent while Epel and Rook look at you in shock. "Besides, it's just a hookup. I don't even have his number, I'll probably never talk to him again."

"Then why are we here at your behest?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Because I wanted to watch basketball?"

Even you know your excuse is shitty, but it's not as if you could tell the trio to their faces that last night felt good and Floyd was really right up your alley and your hands missed the feel of his abs, right? The man seems really in the mood today as he effortlessly makes another shot, making you clap your hands slowly. You stop when you see the three glaring at you. "You certainly have a unique eye for beauté." Rook says lightly, and you're pretty sure he's just saying you have bad taste. "Floyd Leech, twin to Jade Leech, part of football, basketball, swimming, and volleyball, an athletic superstar with a rather dreary disciplinary track record erased by his parents. He's left handed, has had at least four previous relationships, has almost beat someone to death twice, and spent the night in juvie just before his eleventh birthday."

"Rook, how do you even know all of that?"

Rook smiles and puts a finger to his lips. "That is a secret. Still, he is not exactly a prime choice for a partner. May I interest you in some other options?"

"You may not." You sigh.

"Well, if Y/N says it was just a hookup, then it's probably the end of it." Epel smiles softly, and you almost feel guilty when you nod with him. Right before you get in your car to drive home, you get a text from Floyd.

[Floydie: my team totally saw ur marks on my back hehe]

[Floydie: u should do it again sometime jellyfishie]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

It's fine

'Till someone gets hurt

'Till someone gets hurt!

You know it's just a game.

He knows it's just a game.

You're two high schoolers making high school mistakes, and you take it all in stride when you let him into your house. Your parents are off somewhere so you don't need to worry about getting caught, but what you do have to worry about is Floyd finding some weird house ornaments your parents love and playing with them. "Floyd! Stop it, that's not a toy." You take the vase from his hands and put it back on the counter. "If you touch another delicate item in this house that you could very well break I will kick you out, do you understand me?"

"Okay chill, clownfish. I won't touch."

"Good." You sigh in relief and lead him up the stairs to your bedroom. Is it a good idea to let your booty call into your home? Probably not. But there's a calculus exam tomorrow that Floyd hadn't studied for, and Jade warned that if he fails, he'll get suspended from all his sports until he can get his grades back up. You didn't know what that had to do with you, but Floyd insists you tutor him or he won't get you laid while he's suspended.

Rude.

"What about this one?" He points at another question on the textbook. The two of you are sitting on the floor, comfortably leaning on each other with your tiny study table propped up on the rug. You glance at the equation and point to the notebook in your hands. "That one is similar to—Floyd." You hiss out a warning when you feel his hand crawling up your thigh. "We're supposed to be studying, remember?"

He giggles, tracing his finger on the hem of your shorts. "But that's boring, right? Let's have some fun."

"No, Floyd, what if you fail your exam?"

He leans in closer to you. As his lips find yours, he pushes the study table away and your notebook along with it. "I lied to you, you know?"

"There's no calculus exam?" You huff.

"There is~ But I don't need your help to pass." He's toeing the lines you set, nudging your boundaries in his favor. "I just wanted to see your home! And your bed...and maybe you naked on it..."

You don't fight back when his hands are moving up underneath your shirt, only rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath. "This better be good, Floydie. And you better help do my laundry tomorrow."

He laughs again.

Feel my heart beating

I'm just like her or you

People forget I'm human too

Yes, they do that

Vil shouldn't have told you to join the cheer team, and he certainly shouldn't have forced you to wear the cheer uniform in the ungodly colors it has. You give him an unimpressed look, tugging on the edge of your crop top. "I look like a glowing neon sign at the door of a strip club. Or a toxic mushroom. Or a hallucination of someone who's high off Everclear and cocaine." You didn't think anyone would ever be crazy enough to pair traffic cone orange and cyan together, but somehow, the cheerleading outfit proves you wrong.

"It's...atrocious, yes." Vil nods.

You're shocked he has the audacity to agree with you when his cheer outfit is dark blue and cyan, an actually cohesive color combination.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, Y/N. You are beauté!"

You don't want to look at Rook who's sporting a neon green and orange crop top and skirt combo.

"Y'all look ridiculous." Epel drawls in his casualwear, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he looks at the way the three of you are dressed.

You and the rest of the cheer squad are called to the field before the players arrive, performing a few routines to rally the audience. You don't really think you have anything to fear considering your school's football team is the best one in the state (and Floyd's probably left at least one person from each team they've ever played against a healthy dose of trauma), so all your focus is more on trying not to blind yourself whenever you catch a glimpse of Rook from your periphery. As you'd expected, the game is won all too easily with your booty call seemingly in just the right mood, and he runs towards you happily, spinning you around in his arms while your friends watch on in distaste and disappointment.

"Floyd, put me down!"

"Nuh uh, mandarinfish, you look so cute!" He smiles at you as he carries you. You sit on one shoulder and watch him celebrate with his teammates, grinning up at you occasionally. You give up trying to get back down.

"Did you cheer for me?"

In the football team's empty locker room, when everyone else is out in some diner ordering milkshakes as a trophy, you have one leg up Floyd's shoulder as the other one shakily wobbles to try and keep you upright. He's laughing at you but steadying you by the waist, squeezing the skin exposed by the uniform. "So flexible, hm~?"

"Floydie, fuck, stop teasing!"

He drinks in your whimpers and giggles. His hips roll against yours in a fluid, familiar motion, and the thin fabric you're wearing is not enough to stop the feeling.

"If you weren't cheering my name before, I'll make sure you scream it out now, okay?"

This is performance

This is all self defense

I thought you had the sense

To see through that

[Floydie💙: bettafish wer u at]

[Floydie💙: if u come to the party w some other dude istfg]

[Floydie💙: 😠]

Your first Halloween party starts off with a series of angry texts from your friend with benefits (you tell yourself you like him platonically, enough times for it to stick to your head). You chuckle and shoot him back a reply before going back to staring at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like this kind of costume should be illegal." You say to your friends waiting outside the curtain. You don't think white and green underwear with plastic robo wing attachments and silver boots count as a 'costume', much less clothing, but you have to admit that Vil's taste is still impeccable even when it concerns slutty halloween outfits.

It makes you look super fucking hot.

Not that you weren't already, but you're sure if he sees you like this, he'll drag you into an empty room and eat you like a free-for-all buffet. Not that you mind.

"Well? At least come out and show us."

You don't want to annoy the queen bee, so you step outside in your sacrilegious Buzz Lightyear mockup and turn around so they can inspect it. Vil gives an approving nod, Epel claps with an amazed expression on his face, and Rook spouts off some soliloquy about your beauty. You admire their equally slutty halloween fits; Vil dressed as Suicide Squad Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn, Rook looking like a cowboy stripper, and Epel as... why is he dressed in a giant inflatable apple costume? You shake your head and ignore the elephant (epelphant) in the room. "Anyway, this party's not really all that important, but Neige insisted we be there." Vil scoffs. "And he better have his jaw dropped to the floor with how much hotter I am than he is."

That's what he says, but upon pulling up to the party and thirty minutes later, he's less 'preening like a peacock' and more 'getting some cute guy's tongue shoved down so far his throat it probably reaches his esophagus as said cute guy is practically rutting into him in the hallway'. You swear you've never seen this guy in your life, but Rook assures you that Vil knows what he's doing (which you do not doubt) and pushes you along as you try to find Floyd in the sea of illegally drunk high schoolers. You assume a six foot hunk of muscle wouldn't be too hard to find, but you struggle for ten minutes and decide to just give up and text him.

[You: where tf are u]

[Floydie💙: thats what ive been asking dhfjk]

[Floydie💙: did u just get here]

[You: no i was watching vil get it on with some dude]

[Floydie💙: ew gross get ur ass to the second floor first room on the right]

When you get there, you find Floyd in a low effort zombie costume, sitting on the rails of the balcony with his legs swinging. He gives you a smirk and pats the space next to him. "You look real nice. C'mere." You sit next to him, making sure your plastic wings don't accidentally push him off the edge. "Whose house is this anyway? How did they get permission to throw a party this big?" You ask as you lean against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you and pulls you closer to himself. You find your legs swinging in the same pattern as his.

"Some guy."

"Not important?"

"No."

You chuckle at his words. You find him looking up at the stars, so you do the same. "The light pollution in the city's made the sky a little worse." You mumble softly. "In the savanna, the skies were always so clear. You could see every star shining brightly when it's night."

"That sounds real nice."

"It was."

"I wanna see it someday." Floyd hums. "With you."

You close your eyes and push his words out of your mind.

Was I too proud with you?

Was I too cold and forbidding?

And you chose her over me

Are you kidding?

The game's gone on for too long.

Your fuck buddy, somehow, is sitting next to you in the cafeteria. For two weeks now. Azul is at the head of the table, Vil is on the other head, Rook and Epel are on one side while you, Jade, and Floyd sit on the other. They all seem to be getting along well enough, and even Vil, who's always been against your less than stellar taste in men, seemed numb enough to the sight of Floyd practically sprawled over your lap as he nudged another spoon of his homemade lunch against your lips. "Come on, sea star, another bite? Just another one, please, I worked real hard on it for my little sea star, y'know?" You're helpless at the sight of his puppydog eyes and eat what he's offering.

"Yay~"

"This is vomit inducing." You hear Azul mutter under his breath, and to be honest, you might be a little inclined to agree if you didn't enjoy Floyd's company so much. Of course, it doesn't end at one bite. As you've done in the past two weeks, you set aside your bought lunch (that scrappy guy in the volleyball team can handle it) and finish Floyd's bento. You used to feel bad for doing so, but you found out on the first day it happened that he actually brings two bento boxes so that he can feed you before he eats.

"Good sea star, next week you can just not buy lunch!" He pats your head happily, and you nod along.

Have you been too close to Floyd?

You wonder as you walk down the halls, waving and smiling at acquaintances who call out their greetings. You know he's here again when the people around you start to shy away, faces like they've seen a monster. You don't blame them, you know Floyd has a reputation for being rather violent, if not just a straight up bully.

You've just never experienced it.

Not when he's studying with you, going to your cheer practices and screaming your name, chatting with you about random things for hours, bringing you food he'd cooked by himself, giving you little trinkets he said reminded him of you...

Your heart tightens.

He's a better player than you thought.

His arm is wrapped around your shoulder as he chatters your ear off about how he and Jade are going on a hike on the weekend. You listen intently, nodding along all the way to the parking lot. He walks you to your car and even opens the door for you. Your mind blanks when he leans down to kiss you (it's sweet, it's tender, it's so weird but you don't care). You give him a smile and shut the door before driving away.

You have two days where Floyd will be out of town with no reception.

Two days to clear your head.

Two days to reset your boundaries with him.

You wonder if two days are enough to remind yourself the words he'd told you in the beginning of your arrangement.

"Don't go fallin' for me, 'kay? That's boring. I don't like boring. The moment you get boring, I'll drop ya', capiche?"

"What if you fall for me?"

"Hah? Ain'tcha funny? I don't fall."

Right. He doesn't fall. Even if all his actions right now make it seem like you two are dating, it's all a trap. And you like him a little too much to just end it right there. You'd rather be his contractual fling than be that one person who caught feelings in an fwb situation, wouldn't you?

Poor little me

All trapped in this fabulous show

You could set me free

But if you're going, go!

Go! Oh! Oh!

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashell have you been avoiding me]

You know Floyd's serious when his texts aren't a mess of shortened words.

[You: no??? just been busy w that math comp training]

Your excuse is bulletproof. Sure the nerds in the 'mathletes' team drool over you occasionally, but it's a small price to pay in order to get your head on straight. Two days with no contact wasn't nearly enough. In fact, it only cemented the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'; indeed, when Floyd was gone, you only missed him more and more. You think that one of these days, you might just make a mistake and tell him the truth. But the thing is, Floyd doesn't need your love.

Floyd doesn't want your love.

Instead of stuttering and stumbling about in front of him, you choose to run away from your problems. Whenever you have free time, you cover it up with math training and tutoring in preparation for the competition. When lunchtime rolls around, you tell your friends you need to be eating with your teammates in order to foster a sense of camaraderie and cooperation (bullshit). After school, you tell Floyd he'll only be a distraction if he studies with you, and you really need to study for that math competition.

In short, that math competition has been carrying most of the load of your excuses.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: when i find you im going to shove you in the janitors closet]

[You: thats bullying, floydie]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: nah seashell imma fuck you in there 🙂]

[You: threatening]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not a threat its a promise]

You hope he doesn't find you, really. If only because you still can't control your stupid heart around him, and every glimpse you catch of him is infinitely expanded in your dreams. You watched him for a little while during volleyball practice, and you had a very shameful dream regarding the volleyball court, an audience, and Floyd pushing you up against the net.

You put your phone down when Professor Crewel calls for your attention.

"There are only three days left until the competition, pups, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior."

There's also only three days left before the Spring Fling, meaning, you can't attend the formal that has the entire student body buzzing. You voted for Vil as Spring Fling Queen, obviously. And Spring Fling King. He was in both categories so you did as a good friend would do and voted for him in both categories, as well as helping Rook spread the word for everybody else to do the same. You look down at your practice booklet to see Crewel's bright red 'good pup' and a 100 next to it. You'd rather go compete anyway.

Floyd in a suit might just make you melt.

"You're really not going? Not even after the competition?"

In your room, you pinch your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you flip through a textbook. Vil's voice is elegant as ever even through the speakers. "Nope, sorry Vil. You know my situation."

"Oui! We understand, Y/N." Rook chuckles in the group call. "It must be quite difficult being caught like prey in the trap of love, non?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What didja' say?!"

"Rook!" You hiss out, slamming your book close. "I am no such thing."

"Please, Y/N, you underestimate Rook's perceptiveness." Vil scoffs. "Explain."

You groan. "It's nothing, alright?"

"Non! It is not nothing. Our dear Y/N has fallen madly in love with that Floyd Leech and is now on a mission to erase their feelings in order not to get hurt. Oh, the beauté of amour jeune et douloureux."

"Rook, shut up!"

"Y/N, is it true?"

You purse your lips. It takes you a few seconds to answer. "And if it is?"

"Then you have really bad taste."

"Whatever. Just please, if he ever asks you guys about me, just say I'm in training."

"He has been asking about you."

"What did you say?"

"That you're busy."

You nod and sigh in relief. A message pops up in your screen.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashellllll]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: i miss u ☹️]

[You: haha]

You almost send an 'i miss u too'. You don't, though. Because you're smarter than that, aren't you?

[You: i'll see u after the comp ok]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not if i hunt u down first 😠]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

And God, you're hot

Why do you even wear a shirt?

It's fine!

Damn, you're fine.

Damn, you're mine!

You're really good at this hiding thing.

(Of course you are, or Floyd would've found out about your feelings for him ages ago.)

Three days pass all too easily and he never even catches a whiff of you. You win the ICMT State Final Championship (sponsored by no one), and as you sit in the back of the van with your teammates all rowdy in celebration around you, you take out your phone and take a look at your messages. You're not surprised it's mostly Floyd.

[Floyd: wer u at]

[Floyd: coral]

[Floyd: i thought u wer gonna b at the sf 😐]

[Floyd: is ur stupid comp not done yet or wat]

[Floyd: i cant dance the waltz thing w no partner yk]

[Floyd: like halfway done rn]

[Floyd: r u not seeing my messages coral]

[Floyd: jade just called me lovesick lmao tf does that even mean smh]

[Floyd: can u reply when u get my messages]

[Floyd: pls]

[Floyd: did u win]

[Floyd: go win ok]

[Floyd: do u also think im lovesick]

[Floyd: r u avoiding me cus u think im in love]

[Floyd: if i promise im not will u come back]

[Floyd: what do u want me to say]

[Floyd: im sorry coral 🥺]

[Floyd: it just happened]

[Floyd: pls reply]

[Floyd: i miss u sm]

[Floyd: im sorry]

You hear your heart breaking in your chest.

[You: im not avoiding u]

You walk into the auditorium in your 'Mathletes' shirt and jogging pants, a gold medal around your neck. You look very out of place in the ocean of sparkles and sequins, but Rook quickly waves you over with him and Epel. "The crowning is just about to start, you have incroyable timing!" You watch the nominees on the stage as Crowley reads out a script from a cue card. "And the winner for Spring Fling Queen is... Vil Schoenheit."

You clap along with everyone when the blonde walks onto the stage and gracefully accepts the crown.

"And the winner for Spring Fling King... is also Vil Schoenheit."

Everyone claps louder as Vil chuckles on the stage, placing the other crown on top of the first one. He now has two sashes crossing over each other with two large bouquets in his hands. The principal cancels the 'King and Queen first dance' portion and invites everyone to waltz. Even as you stick by Rook and Epel's sides, you can feel a familiar gaze on you following you through the dance floor.

"Y/N."

It's Jade.

"Hi. What's up?"

"My brother has been quite, hm, mopey, lately. Would you happen to know anything about that?" You shrug.

He doesn't seem to believe you, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. You swear his entire aura darkens when he speaks again. "I really do like you Y/N, you've made my brother so happy, and he's always such a joyful figure whenever I see him cooking for you in the kitchen. However, he's been quite distraught as of late, with neither appetite nor cheer since you've begun avoiding him in the name of your competition. Now that said competition is over, congratulations by the way, it is in your best interest to talk your problems out with Floyd, wouldn't you agree?"

People always said Floyd was scarier. You wonder if you can record Jade as he is right now as evidence to disagree.

"Jade, we don't have problems, okay? Floyd and I just want different things." You take a small step back with both arms raised up. "I'm just respecting his boundaries."

"Is that so? Then pray tell, what is it that you want from Floyd that you believe he disagrees with?" He tilts his head, grinning toothily. "Is it that you only wish to remain in your contractual physical relationship? Even so, you could at least reject him outright, yes? What good would it do either of you if the only thing you do is run?"

"No! It's the opposite. He doesn't want an actual relationship. That's what he said. He said if I fall for him then it's over and Jade, I don't..." You gingerly tug at his sleeve, forcing your tears back. "I don't want to lose him. If the only way I can have him is by having a no-strings attached kind of thing, then that's fine. I'll talk to him again, just, when I've finally settled my feelings, okay? Please."

He looks shocked by your words.

Jade sighs and plops you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don't struggle (because it's pointless), and no one in the crowd bats an eye (Floyd may be seen as scarier, but that didn't mean Jade was weak or angelic). He deposits you to the door of the parking lot and heads back inside the party, waving you off with a few more words. "He's at his usual spot, probably whining to the moon about you. Do fix him up for me."

And it's fine!

'Till someone gets...

Hurt! Hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

It feels like a walk of shame when you head towards Floyd's favorite parking spot. You're pretty sure it was supposed to be for faculty members only, but you don't believe that principal Crowley has any sort of dignity left for him not to sell a faculty parking space to a well paying student (you don't want to know what the Leech parents do, not now at least). You spot him easy, laid down on the top of his jeep in a crisp suit and tie that looked like it was ironed right onto his body. He's murmuring things you can't understand, but you really don't believe that he's 'whining about you to the moon', as his twin had claimed.

You knock on the side of the car.

When he looks over at you, you give him a smile and reach your hand towards him. "Get me up, Floydie?" With his help, you climb onto the roof and sit down next to him. He's staring at the stars again, but he's never let your hand go even once.

"Why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"Stop lyin'."

You purse your lips. You're never sure what to do in moments like this, when he sheds all his playful mischief. He seems like a completely different person. Not bad. Just so... different. And he doesn't seem mad (you'd have an easier time if he was), but the conflicting feelings swirling within his skin escape through him and taint you too. You do what you're used to doing with him; get physical. You turn to straddle his lap and lean in closer to him. Your legs are propped up on either side of his own as he leans back on his arms, palms flat on the roof the two of you are sitting on.

Your fingers grip onto his tie, lightly tugging. "Floyd." You barely acknowledge one of his hands resting on the back of your thigh. "I've just been so confused lately. I want you in so many ways and what we have right now? It just doesn't cut it anymore. So tell me off, okay? Tell me you want me to leave. But if you want me to stay then, tell me that you like me. Tell me that you want me. Tell me you love me."

Will he say the words?

Probably not.

This on and off situationship leaves no room for genuine feelings between the both of you. But you make it clear to yourself that this is last time. He can't play with you any longer, and you won't toy with him anymore. And if he doesn't say what you want to hear, then you'll let him go. It's so easy you can't believe you didn't do it forever ago. You keep your eyes trained on his mismatched ones of gold and olive and, even though you know he'll let you down, your heart pitter patters in a rhythm you've heard before. Floyd seems to be thinking your words over as his thumb rubs small circles into the cloth of your pants. You wonder if he's taking this as seriously as you are. Can he see a life with you? Does the thought of settling down bore him?

You can't think about it. If you do, you lose.

Force yourself up into the higher position and gain the upper hand, because the man in front of you is a vulture circling overhead for signs of weakness. If he finds it, he might just tear you apart. "Y/N." There's an unprecedentedly serious look on his face as his slanted eyes bore into you like they're picking you apart and deciding which pieces of you are worthy of keeping. "The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?"

You laugh.

So many months of pining and hopeless romance-ing has lead to this. You don't hear what you want.

But it's practically the same thing.

It feels rather anticlimactic. But he's swallowed his pride and admitted his mistake, at least, in your eyes. And if this is the closest you can get to him, the closest he'll let you get to him, then it'll do for now.

"Floyd."

You tug him by his tie until his lips are brushing against your own.

"It's the most beautiful moon I've ever seen."

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech

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