#baby steps......... this blog is small and casual

[inkstriked]

( realized w my qpp @curseofbreadbear today that there are honestly a shit ton of splat characters id be willing to try so im gonna make a testing muse page i think? + if anyone has specific muse requests lmk and mb ill try em. current possibilities under th cut... )

probably gonna move lill judd and marie to testing bc i love them but im not super confident w them?? but i think id be ok testing octavio, cuttlefish, big man, spyke, annie, and moe too.... maybe fred crumbs also. idk i usually cant handle big multimuses but splatoon characters are just all so unique that i feel like i can separate them in my head enough and not get em all mixed around?? so after i catch up on anything i missed here while i was away ill probly work on a testing muse page/section

also might have to make some sort of note on jelonzos page that he might be canon divergent in his splat3 verse. i dedicated myself to writing him way before the inkopolis dlc dropped and i love his splat1 dialogue too much + its what ive been using and urgh i know he still says body cloth and some other quirky things AND IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM AND PROUD OF HIM i just dk if i can get his voice/tone right for his splat3 dialogue so hmm like ill try but hes probly gonna be a little off. gonna try to settle for a happy medium i think...

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // II. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; sukuna being extremely soft | wc: x | read this for more context & this

note: you and sukuna attend your daughter's winter performance at school

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

your lips part, eyes widening as the crisp air stings the tip of your nose.

you take sukuna in - his tall body leaning against the pillar of the kindergarten in an outfit that's far too sharp than anything you've ever seen him in.

an overcoat, pressed matching colored slacks, a leather belt with a shiny silver buckle, polished loafers and a dark charcoal turtleneck hugging all the muscle he carries. the all black attire highlights his fiery hair and silver piercings glittering underneath the warm light. he has one hand in his pocket, the other flicking through his phone screen.

your heart hammers. the space between your leg pulses.

he looks so good.

you step forward, the heel of your boot climbing up the concrete stairs. he looks up when he hears you approaching, and stands upright to greet you with a warm smile. "hey," he states calmly, berry tinted irises tracking down your body to subtly check you out.

"hi," you reply, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. sukuna rarely ever dressed up like this. he was a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy. he owned one denim and one leather jacket. he loved worn band tees, gym attire and cut out shirts. he hated spending money on clothes because he found it "frivolous" and instead would blow it on his motorbike, booze, and weed. he rented a suit once and complained the entire time. but this...

"you look," you stammered, unable to ignore the slight spark that ignited between the space where you both stood. "you look really good, ryo..."

he runs his hand over his freshly trimmed undercut, the scent of oak moss and wood wafting across your nose and making you picture an evergreen forest.

"thanks," he murmurs with a slight pout, his face falling into an honest expression of uncertainty. "I thought I overdid it a little..." "not at all, you look…fantastic…” you answer with a shake of your head and a firm word of reassurance. "this shit cost me an arm and a leg, but I had nothing else to wear tonight..." he huffed, before relaxing his stance. "glad it paid off at least" you furrow your brows softly, "you bought all this for her play?" a hint of pink kisses sukuna's cheeks and he averts his eyes shyly. "yeah, the brat keeps complaining about my scary clothes and shit..." your heart melts over the gesture.

when you think about how much sukuna cares for your daughter, how much he wants to prove to her and everyone else around him that he does, in fact, take his role as a father seriously, it makes you immensely proud of him.

you've seen the growth in the man.

the sukuna you knew five years ago and the man standing before you now were two completely different people.

and that fact messes with your head.

you swore to yourself that you would never take him back.

that you would never give him a second chance.

"anyway, shall we head inside? the show is about to start in fifteen minutes..." he interjects, cutting your thoughts abruptly before you even have a chance to tell him anything else.

you nod your head, and he casually places his palm against the small of your back to lead you inside.

the parents were cramped in the auditorium, the steel fold out chairs were uncomfortably cold but even more so for your former ex lover who was struggling to find a position for his large physique. after watching him suffer for a few minutes, you finally offered him your own seat on the aisle to give his legs a bit of breathing room.

"fucking hell, all this money we spend and they can't get some decent chairs in..." he complains and you chuckle as you bump his shoulder into his.

the performance was all about celebrating the seasons of the year and each class from the kindergarten were set to perform a specific season. the first batch of kids started with the spring season, where the kids sang and danced in little floral costumes as they taught the audience in question all about how spring brings abundance and the start of something new. the next scene moved into summer, where the performance transitioned to upbeat tempos as the kids celebrated the warmth that the season brings. the third scene transitoned to fall, where the colors of the set morphed into earth tones as the kids sang about the celebration of the harvest.

and finally it was the last scene to honor the beauty of the ice, cold winter. the scene where your daughter was performing. you nudge sukuna when you notice him dozing off, and he instantly perks upright to catch the part that he's been waiting for all night.

his face lights up when his daughter scampers onto the stage, dressed as a sparkling little snowflake. you both can see her eyes scanning the crowd, and her face brightens when she finds the two of you.

sukuna leans in to whisper in your ear, "she wanted to wear that from when she woke up this morning..."

"and did you let her?" you prod, teasing him over his softness towards her and knowing full well that she could have easily gotten her way with him.

"hell no. I wasn't going to deal with the mess of all that glitter," he answers back, your voices getting lower as the audience hushes.

the performance starts - your daughter is twirling and moving with confidence. she sings along with the choir and whenever you glance towards sukuna, you find him beaming with pride the entire time.

and then there was her big moment, her solo.

the one she has been going on and on about for weeks.

the spotlight shines on her as she takes center stage, her small hands squeezing into two tight balls as she shifts her weight from one foot to the next.

she's nervous, you can see it and it makes you itch with anticipation. you can't help but tug at sukuna's sleeve subconsciously, but the man responds by naturally taking your hand in his own.

your daughter swallows the lump in her throat, a hint of fear veiling her eyes as she glances to the side of the stage then back to the audience.

her eyes fall to you and sukuna once again, and the man simply meets her focus as he playfully waves his fingers in her direction.

her small hand relaxes, and she gives him a secret wave in return before easing her stance.

your eyes sting with tears at the interaction before she starts to sing.

you're holding your breath the entire time, pride sitting at your throat as you let go of sukuna to pull out your camera to record the entire thing. her confidence unfurls as she carries on her performance, making you think of all the afternoons and evenings she has spent performing her solo in front of you and probably sukuna while at home. by the end she takes a dramatic bow before returning to the rest of her cast.

you pause the video and turn to the man by your side who is applauding louder than everyone else in the room.

he looks at you with nothing but fulfillment.

"that's our girl," he says with a wolfish grin and cheeky wink, only triggering happy tears to fall.

sukuna drapes his arm around you, and you sling your own around his bicep in return, the other wiping away at your cheek. "yeah," you answer with a sniffle, "yeah it is"

for a moment your eyes lock, the two of forgetting your surroundings as the final song ensues.

“thank you for bringing her into my world,” sukuna murmurs, his lips merely inches from yours. but you don’t even pick up on the depth of what his gratitude even means.

you dab away at the dampness on your face. “that girl is your world, ryo” you tease but pause when you notice his face soften as he dips his gaze to your bottom lip.

“you both are.” he clarifies earnestly, but you are too stunned to speak.

he leans forward, and replicates what happened on the sofa just a few months ago by placing a small but innocent kiss on the corner of your lip.

“you both are.”

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Bumping Beach Bikini - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Pregnancy; References to Sex/Suggestive Jokes; Flirting; Use of Second Person POV “You,” No Physical Description of Reader (Minus Pregnancy), No Y/N

Summary: Rooster admires the view of his pregnant wife on the beach.

Master List

Bradley had a mental list of the best outfits that he had ever seen you in. There wasn’t a set ranking, just general levels of appreciation.

There was a step above your normal beauty and allure, which mostly included random casual outfits that for whatever reason just got him going. Like the yellow sundress that you wore when it was exceptionally hot out that was super easy to slide his hands under. Or those jean shorts that he loved to slip his hand into the back pocket and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. Or anything of his that you chose to wear.

And the step above those were your slightly dressier outfits that got him even more excited. The backless black dress that you wore out in Vegas when the two of you went out with the Dagger Squad. Or the blue floor length dress that you wore to Maverick and Penny’s wedding that looked like it was literally sculpted for you and your figure. Though he did rip the zipper on that one.

Then there were the more special outfits. Your wedding dress mostly, since he literally burst out into tears the second that he saw you step out in it. The photo of you that he kept in his cockpit was from your wedding day with your veil spread out around you, giving you a completely angelic appearance. And, well, Rooster was also very fond of the matching white lingerie set that you wore underneath it that night too. He did rip that one too though.

And at the very top of the pyramid of his favorite outfits was, of course, your birthday suit. Nothing would ever top that one.

But seeing you in a maternity bikini with one of his Hawaiian shirts wrapped around your shoulders and your baby bump sticking out from between the folds of his shirt—now that was a sight that he ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. That one really challenged your birthday suit in his mind.

“What?” you laughed, shooting your husband a look as you applied more sunscreen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re glowing,” Bradley praised, still taking in your beauty.

“With sweat,” you giggled, rubbing in another layer of sunscreen. “It’s only spring and I swear I’m melting already.” You set down the tube of sunscreen and shot your husband a playful look. “You just had to make sure that I was heavily pregnant during the hottest months of the year in Southern California, didn’t you, Bradshaw?”

“Maybe you should have done the math before you begged me to get you pregnant,” Bradley replied, a bit smugly.

“I don’t beg,” you scoffed, shooting him a look. “And besides you offered about fifty times before I let you. If anyone was begging, it was you, Bradley.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rooster mused, smiling over at you.

There was one rule to surviving with a heavily pregnant wife—it was to let you win. On just about everything. Anything health or safety wise, he would argue back, but Rooster took a rain check on all of the little things. And frankly he got more satisfaction out of seeing you happy than being right.

“Do you have enough water?” Rooster asked, sitting up some more.

You reached over and lifted your giant water bottle into the air. Taking a long sip from it just to prove your point to your husband, you set your water bottle back down on the sand.

“I’m fine. Just need some time to relax,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Before it all really sets in.”

Reaching down to pick up your ankle, Rooster started to massage your foot, earning a sigh of relief from your lips. Practically melting into your chair, you turned to your husband with a small, thankful smile as you curled your toes a bit.

“I could get used to this.”

“I’m sure you could,” Rooster chuckled, rubbing the back of your calf.

“There’s only one thing that would make this better.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Rooster jokingly admonished, causing you to smile wider. “Be careful suggesting that. I knocked up the last woman who asked me to take my shirt off in that tone.”

“I’ll take the risk,” you replied with a smile, rubbing your bump slowly.

“So long as you understand the risk,” Rooster returned with a wink.

“Jesus Christ, the rest of us are trying to eat here,” Phoenix cut in, sounding annoyed.

You and Rooster turned to the other Daggers, Maverick, and Penny, who was hiding an amused smile behind her hand. Maverick turned to Penny with a similar expression, shaking his head. But most of the other Daggers, those who were single anyways, shot both you and Rooster somewhat disgusted looks.

“Sorry,” you called sheepishly, waving to them.

“I’m not,” Rooster replied, reaching up to take his shirt off.

[shuadotcom]

Good Vibrations | YJH (M)

Summary: You and Jeonghan have been together for a couple of years and share a lot of the same kinks, so when he first mentioned it, it sounded fun….Now it can best be described as the cruelest form of edging he’s ever inflicted on you.

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Genres & AUs: Smut, pwp, established relationship au, non!idol au

Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

Warnings: Profanity, car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, use of a sex toy, edging, oral (m. receiving), face-fucking, hair pulling, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, slight degradation in the form of name-calling (slut, whore), pet names (over-usage of princess and angel - I’m not sorry either!!), dom!Jeonghan, sub!reader

Words: 3.4k

Note: Yoon Jeonghan is ruining my life okay 😭 So much so that I wrote this shit in two days which is a crazy record for me. Thank you so much to @the-boy-meets-evil for always being such a wonderful amazing beta ily jess! 💖

Net tag: @kflixnet

“These are cute, what do you think, Y/n?” Jeonghan asks, pointing at the handmade set of chopsticks. You don’t seem to answer in time, because you feel the vibrations running through you get more intense - your breath catching in your throat. “Baby, did you hear me?” His tone is so casual along with the smile on his face. You want to smack him.

After taking a gulp of air, you force your eyes to meet where he’s pointing. “Y-yeah. They’re nice.” 

“Right? We’ll take these, please.” Jeonghan turns back to the woman behind the booth as she happily obliges and starts to wrap up the chopsticks.

This isn’t the first time you and your boyfriend have visited the flea market close to your apartment. Usually, you both are able to find fun knick-knacks and accessories made by the talented people in your town.

This is however the first time you’ve been here with a vibrator shoved inside of you that only Jeonghan can control. 

It was his idea, because of course it was. Apparently, he and his stupid friends had been talking about kinky shit they’ve done with their partners and Joshua mentioned buying his girlfriend vibrating panties. Jeonghan thought that idea was brilliant but instead of panties, he had surprised you with a c-shaped vibrator that not only nestled inside of you but also laid perfectly against your sensitive bundle of nerves so you would get both types of stimulation. You and Jeonghan have been together for a couple of years and share a lot of the same kinks, so when he first mentioned it, it sounded fun. 

That is until he ate you out this morning and then slipped the vibrator inside of you, telling you that he expects you’ll keep it in you all day until he says it’s enough. Now it can best be described as the cruelest form of edging he’s ever inflicted on you. 

As soon as you had stepped out of the car when you arrived, the low hum of the vibrator kicked in, nearly knocking you off of your feet.

“Whoa there, Y/n! You okay?” Jeonghan asked, shooting a cheeky smirk your way. 

“Really, Jeonghan!?” You huffed, standing upright again with his help. Each step you took was less shaky than the last, but you had to make a conscious effort not to walk like a newborn baby deer.

“Remember what I said. Be good for me while we’re out and I’ll give you a reward when we get back home.” His tone was so casual as if he was talking about something nonchalant and not your aching cunt.

Your boyfriend had taken your hand then and waltzed through the entrance of the flea market like any other normal Saturday.

It’s nearly an hour later and Jeonghan is still taking his time, stopping at nearly every stall to take in the items and homemade treats, even striking up conversations with the vendors and asking you for your opinions. Each time, he seems to crank the vibrations up a little more on the dangerous device in you.

At some point, he pulls you to a picnic table outside of a tteokbokki vendor and orders a small plate to share with you. 

“Say ‘ah’, angel.” Jeonghan holds a skewer of spicy rice cake up to your mouth, waiting for you to open.

“Jeonghan can we ple-ahh!” Your objection falls short as more intensity hits you, Jeonghan blatantly increasing the speed in front of you. Your nails dig into the plastic of the picnic table, fighting off the impending orgasm.

With a comically large pout, you wordlessly open your mouth, Jeonghan simply beaming back at you and feeding you. He chatters on about how good the weather is and how excited he is to wear the new shirt he just picked up from a couple that makes fun graphic t-shirts.

You love your boyfriend so much - you really do - but right now you want to shove a whole skewer down his throat for the torture you’re experiencing. 

After what feels like hours (when in reality it was only less than ten minutes), you and Jeonghan finish eating and he practically drags you to a boba stall. He already knows what you want, which you’re thankful for because you’re afraid that if you let out any sound, it’ll be nothing but a pathetic moan of his name.

Jeonghan leaves you standing under a nearby tree as the sun gets a little warmer on your skin while he orders for the both of you and casts a look over his shoulder at one point. When your eyes meet you get weak in the knees all over again. His smolder is unmistakable from underneath his bangs, his pretty pink lips quirking up as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. He bites his bottom lip as he practically eye fucks you in broad daylight, any semblance of sanity you have left finally leaving you.

Seemingly satisfied with making you suffer more, he turns away as he thanks the vendor and comes to meet you with your drinks.

“Here you go, princess,” his tone is chipper, a jarring contrast from the way he had just looked at you.

Your hands shake as you take the boba from him, not even attempting to take a drink. You’re so far gone that even his pet names are pushing you close to the edge.

“Jeonghan, honey please.”

“Hmm?” He tilts his head to the side as he sips from his straw without a care in the world.

“Can we please go now? I can’t handle this anymore.” Your words are shaky as you plead with him. Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, studying your face and observing how even standing still you’re trembling in front of him and notices the wet shine in your eyes.

He leans forward, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Okay, princess. Let’s get you home so I can fill up your needy little cunt.” His dirty words have a small whimper leaving your mouth and he has to reach out quickly to steady you as you sway in place.

Lacing his fingers through yours, Jeonghan leads you through the crowd, still going casually he takes a last look at the stalls and items in the market. He’s nice enough to help you into the car when you arrive and even leans over you to buckle your seatbelt, placing a kiss on your forehead before shutting your door. You watch him in the side mirror put his tote bag in the trunk then walk around to get into the driver’s seat.

“You know, you were so good today, princess.” Is the first thing he says as he’s pulling onto the busy street. His hand moves to cover your denim-clad thigh, the small touch making you jolt in your seat. Jeonghan only laughs at you, casting a side-eye glance your way.

“It was so hard,” you sniff, hyper-aware of how warm and how long his fingers are as they draw circles on you.

“I know, baby. But once we’re home it’ll all pay off. I promise you won’t be able to walk for the rest of the day.” He smiles sweetly at you, a choked exhale leaving your mouth at the image of Jeonghan folding you in half in your bed. You know he means it and that only makes you clench your thighs together for the nth time today. “I can see you like that idea.” He squeezes your thigh, his skin feeling red hot to you through the fabric. “Look at you. Pressing your thighs together like a horny little slut.”

“Jeonghan…” He can’t talk to you like this - not in the state you’re in.

“I wonder…is my angel so desperate that she needs to cum now?”

“Mmhmm, please Hannie, I need it! Can I?” You blurt out, not caring how pathetic you sound. It’s how you feel after all of his agonizing teasing. 

“Do it then.” He says suddenly, turning to watch your reaction as he stops at a red light, a mischievous grin forming. In the next moment, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and the toy inside you is cranked up without warning. Your body jerks in your seat, a scream ripping from your throat as your body involuntarily does as he commands. Tears prick your eyes when you finally get to cum, your panties and jeans adequately ruined as you can feel how much you cum in them.

All you can do is pant as you come down and Jeonghan is at least kind enough to lower the vibrations. Through droopy eyelids, you watch as Jeonghan quickly pulls into the parking lot of a park, stopping the car under a low-hanging tree in the corner of the lot.

When you turn to look at him again, his hand grabs your chin, bringing his mouth to yours. Your lips move together effortlessly, Jeonghan’s tongue prodding at your lips, demanding access. As soon as your lips part, his tongue moves in to claim yours, sucking it loudly into his mouth. You whine in response, your hands coming up to tangle in his dark locks, tugging on the strands as he continues wrapping his tongue around yours, nearly devouring you whole.

Jeonghan pulls away first and moves to kiss your neck as you catch your breath.

“How was that? Does my angel need more?” He mumbles against your skin.

“Yes, please!” You nod feverishly, gasping as he bites down, leaving a mark at the base of your neck.

“But do you deserve more?”

“I do! I’ve been good all day, Hannie! You said!”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “I suppose, but you have to earn it.”

“Anything!” You rush out, head lolling back as he nips at another sensitive spot on your neck.

“Do a good job sucking my dick and I’ll think about it.”

With a last bite at you, Jeonghan pulls away and you watch, wide-eyed as he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans until he has enough room to pull out his length, his hard cock springing out and hitting his t-shirt-covered stomach.

You get to work immediately, hands darting out to pump him a few times. Jeonghan lets out a hiss when your tongue laps at the tip, collecting the beads of salty precum that seep from the slit. One of your hands grips the base of his dick, pumping it a few times as you suckle on his cockhead.

“Fuck, angel, no teasing.” He turns the vibrator back up after his warning and you moan lewdly around him. Breathing out of your nose, you sink onto his length slowly, taking in as much of him as you can. Your hand and mouth work together, your tongue swirling around him as you suck him down. 

Slurping sounds fill the car mixed with the loud, breathy moans Jeonghan huffs out above you. Your head bobs frantically, sucking and squeezing him in all the ways that you know he likes. His long fingers tangle in your hair, gripping at the roots to push you down further. You can’t help but choke as he hits the back of your throat suddenly, but you don’t pull away - you know how much he loves to leave you choking on his dick.

“Shit, look at you, taking me so far down your slutty little throat. You’re so good for me, you know that?” Jeonghan’s praises always spur you on, the desire to make him feel good taking priority because you know he’ll always return the gesture tenfold. 

You attempt to nod, swallowing around him, driving Jeonghan even crazier. He thrusts up shallowly, beginning to languidly fuck your mouth. 

His hold on your hair stays tight, the feeling of his nails digging into your scalp burning along with the ache in your jaw, but you stay where you are, gagging around his cock. You reach down to cup his balls, rolling them around in your palm which draws a deep whine from his throat.

Jeonghan scrambles in his pocket for the remote to the vibrator, turning it higher. You manage a wet, garbled squeal around his length, your eyes crossing as you feel your orgasm approaching faster than the speed of light.

“Gonna cum again, princess? Gonna get that pussy slick and sticky for me?”

“Mmph!” You breathe loudly out of your nose. Your eyes screw shut as Jeonghan thrusts into your mouth rougher, now holding your head completely still as he uses your throat as a fleshlight. The tension in your belly finally snaps, shockwaves rushing through you as you cum with an incoherent attempt to yell Jeonghan’s name. 

Your loud gasp rings out through the car as he yanks you off of him by your hair. You greedily gulp air into your lungs, body shaking as you continue to ride your orgasm out.

“Is my princess doing alright?” Jeonghan checks, his fingers lightly massaging your scalp.

“Y-yes,” you stutter out. 

“Perfect. Come here.” Jeonghan places a kiss on your lips and helps you wiggle out of your jeans and underwear, leaving them on the floor of the passenger seat. He manages to climb into the backseat of the car, helping you over the seats after him and maneuvering your tired body into his lap. Jeonghan reaches between your wet thighs, easing the vibrator out of you, shushing you as you groan at the loss. He tosses it into the passenger seat and helps you lift just enough for him to begin slipping his cock into you.

“Jeonghan!” You cry out as he stretches your walls. Even after cumming numerous times today and being filled with something all day, he still manages to feel heavy and impossibly thick. Your walls greedily suck him in, inch by inch, the sensation alone already making you lose yourself even more in everything that is Jeonghan.

“I know, princess. You’re so fucking tight, but fuck just like that.” His long fingers grip you, easing you into his lap until his dick is buried in you completely.

The two of you share a moan, taking a few seconds to adjust. 

“Hannie…can I move please?” You whimper first, your oversensitivity ebbing away as overwhelming pleasure quickly replaces it. 

“You wanna ride my dick, huh angel?” 

“Yes, please Hannie,” you’re whining for him now, hips trembling at the dire need to get fucked.

“My slutty baby is so desperate for me,” Jeonghan purrs, trailing his hands around your hips to grab a handful of your ass. “Ride me, princess. Make me cum in your messy little cunt.”

Jeonghan’s dirty words set your skin on fire, and you do what he says. You plant your hands on his shoulders and your knees on either side of him for better leverage and begin bouncing in his lap with as much energy as you can muster. He keeps one hand anchored to your hips, helping you with each thrust and his other hand reaches up under your shirt and bra to roughly knead at your breast.

“Hannie…” His name is long and drawn out, egging on his eager hands to begin pinching your sensitive nipples. 

“That’s right, princess. Who’s cock makes you feel so fucking full and good?” His words are steady, even as he starts to buck upwards, meeting your hips every time you drop down. 

“Yours!”

“Fuck yeah. And this pussy is all mine,” he punctuates each of his words with a thrust, quickly jolting you up and down almost faster than you can keep up with. 

The car rocks as he fucks into you, the air hot and stuffy and full of desperation from both of you. Sweat beads at your hairline as you ride Jeonghan and you manage to wrench your eyes open to look at him. 

His dark hair sticks to his face, his forehead glistening with sweat much like yours, but fuck he looks as beautiful as always. His plump bottom lip is between his teeth as his brown eyes, half-lidded and full of desire stare back at you. A playful smirk graces his features and your heart immediately skips a beat.

Even when he’s teasing you mercilessly and talking to you in the filthiest ways, he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Gonna hurry and cum for me, princess?”

“Yes, Hannie, yes, fuck!”

“Better hurry up. I don’t know how long we have until someone notices our car sitting here. They’ll all hear you crying for me like a whore.” This isn’t the first time Jeonghan’s fucked you stupid in his car, but it’s the first time he’s done it during the day when anyone could walk by and easily see your silhouette on top of him through the tinted windows. The idea scares you while simultaneously exciting you.

Jeonghan adjusts his hips a little, the slight angle change having his cockhead brush your g-spot just right, making your toes curl and anything that isn’t Jeonghan cumming inside of you vanishes from your mind. 

“Fuck, Jeonghan, yes, yes, yes!” You babble out. You need to cum again so fucking bad - your fourth orgasm of the day so close you can practically taste it. You continue to meet each of his powerful thrusts, your hips burning, but you ignore it, getting closer, closer, closer.

Jeonghan’s right hand snakes between the two of you. His nimble fingers expertly find your swollen clit and rub at it, rolling it between his perfect fingers.

“Shit, baby, I’m so close - so fucking close. Be a good girl and cum with me.” Jeonghan doesn’t give you a chance to answer and instead buries his left hand in your hair and yanks you forward to crash your lips together. The kiss is all teeth, tongue, and spit. It’s messy and needy, capturing your shared lust. 

“Hannie!” You gasp between kisses. “Can I?!” You barely get the words out as he mutters a ‘yes’ against your lips, allowing you to let go. The sound of your blood rushing to your head fills your ears as you hold your breath and your orgasm hits you like a bus.

“Yes, yes squeeze me just like that, angel! Fuck!” Jeonghan throws his head back as he cums, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest as he paints your walls, your name on his tongue as he does.

You sag against him, your forehead resting on his shoulder. You feel Jeonghan’s fingers rubbing circles on your back while you both steady your breathing. 

“I love you, Hannie,” you say, your hands wrapping around his torso to pull him closer into a proper hug.

“I love you too, Y/n.” He reciprocates the embrace, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“We should probably get going,” you whisper as another minute ticks by. You didn’t want to separate but it would only be a matter of time before someone nosey happened by.

“Yeah, we should.” Neither of you moves at first after he agrees, but your hips are starting to ache so you begrudgingly sit upright. Jeonghan’s hands hold your waist as he helps you slowly lift yourself until his softening cock slips out.

Flopping onto the seat next to him, you lazily readjust your bra and shirt as he tucks himself back into his jeans and fixes his hair. He helps you move back into the front seat and you wrestle with getting your jeans back on as he climbs into the driver's seat and takes a sip of his now-warm boba.

Once back on the road you reach out to grab at his hand resting on the center console. He gives your hand a squeeze in return, threading his fingers with yours.

“Can we get food on the way home?” You ask, suddenly noticing how hungry you are.

Jeonghan snickers, giving you a look before focusing on the road again.

“All your energy is gone from cumming so much, huh?”

“Stop!” You pretend to be scandalized, smacking the back of his hand. “But yes, actually!”

Jeonghan brings your hand to his lips, placing a light kiss on the back of it.

“Yeah okay, we’ll grab something. You’ll need to regain your strength anyway.” You blink at him, your boyfriend chuckling at your silence. “Did you forget what I said already? I told you that you wouldn’t be able to walk for the rest of the day, didn’t I? I’m not done fucking you, princess.” Heat spreads across your neck and up to your face. Fuck, he did say that earlier, didn’t he? Yoon Jeonghan was truly going to be the end of you. “Now what would you like to eat, my love?”

[mariclerc]

Hermana necesito que hagas uno de que lucille se entera que tenga un hermano/hermana JAJAJAJAJAJ ASI TE TENGO ENTENDIDA

Bestieee, thanks for this request <3 I found it very adorable and cuteee 🥺

Funny tummy | pg10

Summary: Where you decide to tell little Lucille that you are pregnant but you don't know how.

Warning: none, just fluff.

a/n: part three of "family cuddles", dedicated to @martaaairwin1994-blog

Sunlight streams through the window, illuminating a kitchen with sleek countertops and brightly colored cabinets. Pierre is dressed in casual clothes, wrestles playfully with a giggling Lucille, your two-year-old with bright eyes and her hair in pigtails. You stand by the counter, making coffee, a smile on your face as you watch them.

“No, papa! Tickle monster!” Lucille says while squealing.

Pierre laughs. “Gotta get the tickle monster!”

Lucille squeals again, dodging him as he chases her around the kitchen island. You watch them, your heart swelling with love. You take a sip of your coffee, then glance down at your stomach, a small frown creasing your forehead for a moment. It happens that you find yourself pregnant again and your belly is still not so noticeable, Pierre obviously already knows this, but the thing here is that you don't know how to tell Lucille that she is going to be a big sister.

“Maybe I should wear a looser dress today...” you say to yourself quietly.

Pierre finally catches Lucille in a hug, showering her with kisses. “There you go! Gotcha!”

Lucille giggles and wriggles free. You put down your mug and walk over to them, crouching down to Lucille's level.

“Alright, that's enough tickles for now, mademoiselle Lulu. How about some breakfast?”

“Pancakes mama!” Lucille says, clapping her hands happily.

You nod at her while smiling. “Pancakes it is, then. But first, let's wash those tickled hands, shall we?” you asked and she nods.

You take Lucille's hand and lead her to the sink. As you turn on the faucet and help her wash her hands, Pierre comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You lean back into him, a comfortable silence settling between you.

He leans and kisses your cheek. “Morning, beautiful mama.” he whispered.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Did you have a good night's sleep?” you asked him softly.

“The best. Especially after a certain little mademoiselle finally decided to let us sleep past six.” he made a pause. “And also when a petit têtard stopped making you feel bad during the night.” he said quietly referring to the baby. (little tadpole)

You both chuckle. You finish drying Lucille's hands and turn around, facing Pierre. You hesitate for a moment, then reach up and place a hand on your stomach. Pierre follows your gaze, he, more than anyone, knows what you are thinking at that moment and the truth is that it is a little scary to think about how to tell Lulu about your new baby.

“How do we tell her?” you say in a whisper.

“Just let it flow naturally, okay?” He says and takes your hand.

You look at him, a shy smile playing on your lips. He smiles at you.

“Mommy! Sprinkle pancakes!” Lucille says, calling from the table.

You let out a little laugh. “Pancakes are coming sweetie!”

You walk towards Lucille, then you look back to Pierre. You open your mouth to speak, but the words get caught in your throat. Suddenly, Lucille speak up, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Mommy, guess what? My tummy feels a little funny! Is there a tickle monster in there? Like in your tummy?” she says with bright eyes.

You look at Pierre, a wave of emotion washing over you... For a two-year-old (almost three) like Lucille to have understood everything, it is something very shocking for the two of you. You glance down at your stomach again, a tear welling up in your eye, Pierre understands and smiles. He kneels down next to Lucille, a wide grin on his face.

“Actually, little one, there's not a tickle monster in there. There's a...” He pauses, searching for the right words. You step forward and kneel beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“There's a little baby sister in there. You're going to be a big sister, Lucille! Isn't that amazing?”

Lucille's eyes widen even further. She processes this information for a moment, then a huge smile breaks out across her face.

“A baby sister! Like a little doll?” she says while clapping her hands.

You hug her tightly. “Even better love! A real, live baby sister to play with and love endlessly.”

“Toys?” she asks.

You let out a soft giggle. “Yes my love! You will be able to share your toys with her and she will be like a best friend to you, what do you think, honey?” You asked her shyly.

She smiles. “Yay! Love ya mama... And sissy.” she giggles.

Lucille throws her arms around you, giggling with delight. Pierre joins the hug, the three of you laughing together. In that moment, filled with sunshine and the joy of your little family, you know that everything is perfect, just the way it is.

[rylem33]

Double the Trouble

Just a quick reminder that I post most of my new stories here to Tumblr, but my blog has all of my 150+ stories. Just follow the link on my Tumblr homepage. --------------------------------------------- Kelsey leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring at her mother. Diane stood near the couch, a dish towel still slung over her shoulder from when she’d been cleaning up after dinner.

“I said no, Kelsey,” Diane stated firmly. “A weekend trip with your friends, out of town, no adults? That’s just asking for trouble.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes dramatically. “Mom, I’m not asking. I’m nineteen. I don’t need your permission.”

“You live under my roof. You’re not leaving for some unsupervised getaway to God-knows-where with God-knows-who!” Diane’s voice sharpened, but there was worry behind it. “What if something happens? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there?”

Kelsey groaned, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, would you just chill for once in your life? It’s like you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be my age. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

Diane’s lips pressed into a tight line. “You’re still my responsibility, and it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“Ugh,” Kelsey snapped, stepping forward. “I wish you’d stop treating me like a baby and remember what it’s like to be young and have fun. Maybe then you’d understand!”

The air in the room seemed to shift. The candle on the side table flickered unnaturally, though neither of them noticed.

Diane opened her mouth to reply, but instead of speaking, she frowned and put a hand to her temple. “I… I remember,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Kelsey tilted her head, her frustration giving way to confusion. “What?”

“I remember being nineteen,” Diane continued, her voice suddenly lighter, almost wistful. “God, I was such a prude back then.”

As she spoke, subtle changes began to ripple through her. The streaks of gray in her hair darkened to a deep chestnut, and the fine lines around her eyes smoothed.

“Mom? Are you feeling okay?” Kelsey asked, taking a step back.

Diane’s lips curved into a small smile, one that didn’t feel quite like hers. “Better than I’ve felt in years, actually.”

Kelsey’s eyes widened as Diane’s cardigan shifted, the fabric morphing into a cropped, fitted shirt. Her jeans tightened and shortened, transforming into distressed shorts that showed off her long legs. Sneakers replaced her house slippers.

“What the hell is happening?” Kelsey gasped.

Diane ran a hand through her now-lustrous hair, flipping it over her shoulder. “Wow, I forgot how good it feels to just let loose.” She smirked at her daughter, her tone laced with mockery. “Why do you look so freaked out? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“You…you look… young!” Kelsey stammered. Diane stepped over to her daughter and stood beside her. She turned and looked at the mirror, tilting her head in appreciation. 

“I look like your twin. God, we’re so hot.” She turned back to Kelsey, her voice dripping with sudden sarcasm. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Scared your old mom might outshine you?”

“Mom, stop it!” Kelsey protested, her voice shaking.

But Diane didn’t stop. She leaned against the couch, “You know, I was a total knockout at your age. The boys couldn’t get enough of me, but I was too scared to do anything. But I have to admit, you’re hotter.  And now that I look like you, it’s time to have some fun.”

“Mom, this isn’t you,” Kelsey said weakly.

Diane’s grin widened. “Come on, Kelsey. You wanted me to be young and have fun. I’m not about to disappoint you.”

Kelsey’s stomach twisted. Her mother was changing, and not just physically. The sweetness and concern she’d always relied on were being replaced by something sharper, meaner.

“Mom, stop it!” Kelsey’s voice wavered, her facade threatening to crack under her mother’s piercing gaze.

Diane didn’t stop. She leaned casually against the doorframe, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’re adorable, you know that? All wide-eyed and innocent when I’m around. But I’m not blind, Kels.”

“What are you even talking about?” Kelsey snapped, though her tone was defensive.

“Oh, come on,” Diane scoffed, her smirk widening. “You love playing Mommy’s little good girl. Always so polite, so sweet. But I bet the second I’m not looking, you’re the center of attention. Batting your eyelashes, twirling your hair. Let me guess…” She stepped closer. “You get the boys to follow you around like puppies. You flirt just enough to keep them on edge, never giving them exactly what they want but keeping them hooked.”

“That’s not true!” Kelsey’s protest was immediate, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

“Oh, really?” Diane laughed, a sharp, knowing sound. “You’re telling me you’re not the girl who ‘accidentally’ brushes against the hot guy at a party just to see how red his face gets? That you don’t soak up the attention when they trip over themselves to impress you? But in the end, you’re just a cock tease…aren’t you?”

“I don’t do that,” Kelsey muttered, her voice faltering.

Diane tilted her head, her grin widening. “You don’t have to lie to me, Kelsey. You think I don’t see the little smiles, the way you leave your phone unlocked just enough for your friends to see all the messages from guys? The way you act so shy when they ask you out, just to keep them chasing you?”

Kelsey’s lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Her shoulders slumped slightly, her carefully constructed act dissolving under her mother’s relentless accuracy.

“There it is,” Diane said softly, her tone triumphant. “I knew it.”

Kelsey looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fine. So what if I do?”

Diane’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, sweetie. I’m not judging you. Honestly, I’m impressed.” She stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But nobody likes a tease, Kels. Sex is so much fun. It feels so good to have a hard dick pounding you.  I can help you. Imagine how much more fun you could have with a partner in crime.”

Kelsey glanced at her mother, confusion and curiosity warring on her face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this weekend could be a lot more interesting if you weren’t the only one pulling the strings. We can manipulate those boys to get whatever we want, fuck whomever we want, and drop them when we get bored.”

“You’re serious?” Kelsey asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Why not?” Diane said with a shrug. “We’re both hot, we know how to get what we want, and now we’re on the same page. Let’s make this trip unforgettable.”

A slow smile spread across Kelsey’s face as realization dawned. “You’re not like this. Not usually.”

“Maybe not,” Diane replied with a wink. “But I am now.”

Kelsey laughed, a sound freer and more genuine than she’d let out in years. “Okay, Mom. Let’s do it.”

Diane smirked, shaking her head. “First rule: stop calling me ‘Mom.’ Do I look like a mom to you? I’m practically your twin now.”

Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “So… what am I supposed to call you then?”

Diane tapped her chin playfully before snapping her fingers. “Call me Dee. Short, sweet, and sexy. It suits me, don’t you think?”

“Dee,” Kelsey said, testing the name out with a small grin. “Alright. Let’s do this, Dee.” “That’s my girl,” Diane said, opening the door and stepping out into the night. She glanced back at Kelsey. “Let’s go have some fun.”

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Hi, I just recently came across your blog and I really liked your stories "human pet" and "baby".

You've done a great job, keep it up.

And I have a request: Could you, when you have the opportunity, write about the Bully x fem!nerd! reader?

(He hurts her cuz he likes her stereotype imaged above)

Yandere!Bully x Fem!Reader

Very small drabble CW: Bullying

He just wanted to get her attention.

At first, anyway.

Simon wasn't always a bully. As a younger child his anxiety was so bad that he distanced himself from his peers, unintentionally ostracizing himself. The less interaction he had with others his age, the worse he became at communication. When he did try to talk to his classmates, his words always came out wrong, or were misinterpreted, which caused him to feel flustered and get angry.

So, in order to save himself the embarrassment, he stopped trying. And he was perfectly fine being alone; without friends or enemies.

Until one day, he saw (Reader) for the first time.

The single most beautiful person he'd ever seen. Her laughter ripped through his chest, and the scent of her body wash made his head feel fuzzy.

(Reader) never saw him. Simon had succeeded in making himself invisible, so much so that even if he stood right in (Reader's) path on the sidewalk, she would side step around him.

One day, she did just that, casually maneuvering around Simon without so much as making eye contact.

Simon didn't mean to hurt her.

His hand reached out before the thought fully formed in his head. He just wanted her to look at him, so maybe he was just reaching out to grab her shoulder? It happened so quickly, that Simon didn't comprehend what he was doing until (Reader) was knocked over, hitting the asphalt.

But it worked.

(Reader) rolled over, startled, staring at Simon with doe like eyes, shaking a little from the sudden impact of her fall. And any sympathy he had for accidentally hurting her immediately flew out the window when he realized that, for once, she was looking at him and only him.

"Next time, don't ignore me." Simon hadn't intended on sounding so threatening, it just came out that way.

She nodded before scrambling to her feet, grabbing her belongings and dashing away.

Having (Reader) look at him was.. exhilarating. It was so intoxicating that when she turned away and robbed Simon of her sight, it felt like a piece of him was stolen away.

He needed to have that again. He didn't feel bad about what he did because he had been rewarded with (Reader's) undivided attention, but planned an apology for when he would later see her at lunch, to mend the misunderstanding and, eventually, form a beautiful relationship with her. However, when lunch came around, and he was excitedly rehearsing his faux apology, Simon saw (Reader) from across the courtyard; he watched her notice him, then speed off in the opposite direction.

Simon forgot the apology. She saw him. She looked at him. And she had the audacity to run away?

The lanky young man chased her down, finding her quickly and cornering her behind the gymnasium.

"I thought I said to not ignore me?" Simon said with a tight smile.

"Please don't-"

"You really hurt my feelings, (Reader)." Simon interrupted, shocking the young woman. For the life of her, she couldn't recall who this person was, and Simon could see that on her face.

"I'm sorry.."

"You're sorry?" He didn't know why he was being so mean, but the words just kept tumbling out of his mouth at a speed he couldn't control. It was empowering having (Reader) acknowledge his existence, even if it was by cowering in fear. "That's not good enough."

He grabbed (Reader's) face with one hand, squishing her cheeks together, distorting her shocked gasp.

"You're never going to ignore me again, you hear me?"

"Yed." (Yes)

Simon gripped her jaw tighter, making her wince. "I think you and I are going to be best friends.. isn't that right, (Reader)?"

When she refused to answer Simon forcibly made her nod her head with his hand.

All he could think about was kissing her soft looking lips puckered up between his thumb and pointer finger. But that would have to wait. She shook in his hand, and was clearly sniffling back tears. But Simon still didn't feel any guilt.

He didn't mind becoming (Reader's) bully, as long as it meant that she continued paying attention to him and only him.

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long! And I'm sorry that it ended up a short drabble ☹️ sometimes, inspiration robs me of my sleep, other times out pumps out onr sentence and thinks it's done lol

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Twenty-Nine

Just in case you weren't aware, this blog is unequivocally in support of the liberation of Palestine.

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

“Mom, what the hell are you doing here?” Jennifer watched as her son carefully pulled away from the two people he had been wrapped around. He stumbled around the bar and tentatively hugged her. God, she remembered when Jake was a skinny stick of a boy. His physique was all Daniel, but his heart was purer than both her or that man.

“You called, Jacob. Of course I was going to come. I wanted to see what was going on.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at the two people trying to look casual in the way they pretended to ignore them. The man, tall and broad shouldered, held a guarded expression in his gaze as he studied the Seresins. The woman next to him was a lot shyer than she had been before the boy’s arrival. One of her hands had drifted down to rest on her shirt-covered stomach and Jennifer was sharply reminded as to why she was here.

“I didn’t say anything about needing to come down here. I was planning on inviting you and Liz, yeah, but I just needed some time to get acclimated,” Jake explained. “I don’t have the guest room set up or food prepared. I didn’t even take time off work bu-”

Jennifer cut him off. “I have an AirBnB rented for a month.”

“What? A month? Mom, I-”

“You call me and tell me that you knocked a girl up but it’s fine, you three are going to raise the baby together. Jacob, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone until now, not to mention two people. Forgive me for being a little concerned that this was a rushed decision.”

Jake shut his mouth, his jaw clenching tightly. He inhaled deeply and looked over her head at the crowd of people that were starting to fill up the room.

“You didn’t need to come all the way here and uproot your life. We’re fine. The three of us are figuring it out together.”

“Figuring it out? Jake, this is a baby. Not an Ikea dresser, for God’s sake!”

Jake’s gaze darted over to the bartender once more and he softened at the look on her face. Something akin to determination mixed with worry seeped into the green eyes the same shade as hers.

“Let me drive you to your place, Mom. We can talk more there.”

Jennifer had figured that’s what he would offer, which is precisely why she ordered her Uber to drop her off at the bar he had so affectionately told her was the place he met the woman he knocked up. 

God, this was a fucking mess.

She never expected to be a grandmother, to be honest. Liz was entirely focused on her career as an attorney and, despite not telling her mother yet, seemed to prefer partners of the same sex. Jennifer couldn’t care less about who her daughter was sleeping with, as long as she was safe and happy. Jacob, on the other hand, had made it apparent that he wasn’t the type to have a family. She knew that both of her kids batted for the other team in some way since they were younger, even if Daniel was a shitbag homophobe. But Jake never once brought anyone home to meet her. He never took a girl to more than one dance or talked about a guy more than once to her. He was a one and done kind of guy.

So when Jake called her and said he knocked a girl up that he’s only known for a few months, she booked the first flight out to San Diego. Because that did not sound like her son at all.

Jake stepped away from her to address the two people still watching them. He said something quietly enough that Jennifer couldn’t hear, but then raised his voice.

“I’ll be home before you two so I can make sure someone goes to bed on time,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been the entire time he had spoken to Jennifer. A small smile grew on the bartender’s face and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s not my fault that Sweet Pea likes QVC,” she retorted.

“Yeah, well, Sweet Pea also needs to let her momma get some sleep,” Jake said. He nodded at the man and then grabbed Jennifer’s suitcases and silently led the way towards the parking lot.

Aside from the address she gave him and the quiet voice of the navigation system, the drive was silent. Jennifer took that as a chance to both look around at San Diego and think about her own life.

In the small Texas town she grew up in, it was expected that you served the Lord, married young, and had babies. Daniel was the quintessential All-American guy. He was a church-going quarterback who helped old ladies cross the street and made Jennifer feel like the luckiest girl in all the world because he chose her. She had dreams of leaving that small town, but getting pregnant during her senior year of high school quashed any plans she had of moving to a big city. Instead, she and Daniel had a shotgun wedding and a hasty life thrown together. By the time she realized that he was a monster, Jennifer had a baby in a town where it was expected that you grin and bear it for the children.

Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

Jennifer Seresin had made a lot of choices in her life. Some good, many bad, but all of them couldn’t top her decision to raise her two children with the kindest of hearts. Elizabeth and Jake were the lights of her life, especially through the dark times. Jake had been their saving grace in getting away from that shitbag ex-husband of hers. But he shouldn’t have had to.

The guilt of her failure ate at her. She should have left Daniel years earlier. She should have never let her kids feel their father’s anger. She should have done a million things to make their lives better and yet she failed them over and over. 

She would not let Jake make the same mistakes she did.

Your feet ached as you climbed the few steps up to the front porch. The world was winding down thanks to the late hour, but the soft glow emanating from inside the house let you know that at least one of your boys was still awake.

The door creaked slightly on its hinges and you made a mental note to have Jake fix that one day. Maybe you could convince the boys to do projects around the house while shirtless. It would be your own personal porno.

“Hey,” you greeted Jake quietly. He tore his gaze away from the baseball game that was clearly a rerun and looked at you. A small smile graced his handsome face, but you could see the underlying tension that rested there. You set your purse down and toed off your shoes before winding around the couch to settle in beside him.

“Roo asleep?” you asked. He nodded and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. His whole body held taut as a bowstring and you wished you had some magic wand that would make him relax. 

“How was work?” It was a clear deflection and the two of you knew it. You craned your head up so you could see his face better and sighed.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you said. It was more of a demand than a question, but you softened your voice to not make him anymore skittish. Jake released a heavy sigh and then shrugged.

“Roo and I kinda got into it when he got home. He said I dumped this on you two but I didn’t even know she was coming.”

“I know that. And he knows that. He’s just thrown off kilter. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t surprised too.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies. She seems nice, by the way.”

Jake huffed out a laugh. “When she’s not interrogating you, maybe.”

You rubbed your nose along the length of his jaw and pressed a delicate kiss to his pulse. Something warm and bright bloomed in his chest and he tugged you closer to him. Jake inhaled the sweet scent of you, some odd mixture of beer, flowers, and sea salt. Coupled with the heady taste of Rooster–oil, sweat, and sun–that soaked into the townhome, Jake found himself sinking into you.

“C’mon Tex. Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep on the couch,” you teased.

“You’re one to talk,” he grumbled. You giggled and shifted so you were straddling his hips, arms lacing over his shoulders and clasping around his neck. He fumbled for the remote and somehow turned off the TV before he slid an arm under your butt and hauled the both of you off the couch. Your grip tightened just slightly, but you trusted that he wouldn’t drop you.

Jake remembers the night he met you. You and your bright eyes, devilish smirk, and sharp tongue. He had his fair share of people that he welcomed into his bed, but there was something about you that captivated him. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t take his shit, much like another man he had known years earlier.

Maybe it was the way you loved the taste of his pancakes, his music, and his kisses.

You shushed him as he got closer to the bedroom and he gently set you down so you could stumble in and blindly search for the dresser to steal some of their clothes. Jake slipped away to check the locks and windows before he returned to find you snuggled in the middle, one of Rooster’s arms thrown around your waist.

“You didn’t waste any time, did you, angel?” he whispered. That traitorous part of his mind let his mother’s words filter in. What happens if the baby isn’t his? What happens if the baby isn’t his and you two decide you don’t need him? That you don’t want him? Can he handle that? Can he handle this dream being shattered?

“Why don’t you shut up, strip, and get in here too?” Rooster’s tired voice filled the darkened bedroom and you hid your smile against the pillow before you reached out for Jake. The blond tugged off his shirt and threw his shorts somewhere in the direction of the closet before he climbed into bed. You threw your arm over his neck and settled your face against his chest. Rooster’s fingers brushed over Jake’s bicep and he welcomed the touch.

He couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.

Tag List:

@mizzzpink@xoxabs88xox@dreaminglandsworld@khaylin27@loveforaugust@atarmychick007@itsmytimetoodream@krismdavis@startrekfangirl@hangmandruigandmav@lunamoonbby@startrekfangirl2233@sihtricswife@jstarr86@drakelover78@abaker74@emma8895eb @hardballoonlove

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚖 - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷

Pairing: Blackpool Combat Club x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, adult content, semi-erotic content, harsh language, dub-con, mild psychological torture, yandere vibes.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @adamjf , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

She had been placed inside a bedroom now. The secluded cabin in the woods was rustic, built of wood and with the classic decor of animal fur, leather armchairs, and red plaid fabric. It was cozy, even under the circumstances she was currently in. “It could be worse”, she thought, “I could still be tied up to a chair inside that basement”.

She caught herself staring at the deer’s head on top of the bed. Its black eyes called for her, it whispered something, perhaps it was a warning? A message? She couldn’t quite understand what it was saying, what it was trying to tell her. Its words we’re getting unclearer the more she stared at it. She tried to piece the message together, but something wasn’t quite right…

“It’s fake” A deep voice stated from behind her, making her squeal and rapidly turning around to see the perpetrator of her almost heart attack.

Blue eyes gleamed with amusement at her, much like the playful smirk he had cemented to his thin lips. The lollipop stick danced around his mouth as he continued:

“Bryan is vegan, so he didn’t want any real dead animals inside the cabin. He likes the visuals of the decor aspect of it, but ‘no real corpses’!” Moxley mocked Bryan’s way of speaking and the small joke earned a faint giggle from her. He considered that a win, one step closer to make her fully trust him.

“You got the coolest room. I’m jealous” Mox teased, pointing with his chin towards the deer head on the wall.

“Oh! The youngest man just shoved in here. I didn’t have much of a choice” She shrugged

“Yuta?” He asked and she nodded in return. “Well, would you like to check out the other rooms? You can choose the one you like the most”

“N-no!” She was quick to answer, too quick for her own liking. She needed to be subtle, play possum for now until she could figure a way out of here. “Thank you. I don’t want to upset anyone”.

Moxley frowned at her statement. She seemed distressed, back into her shell, suspicious. “Fucking Yuta and his stupid teenage-like hormones! He’s fucking ruining everything!” Mox thought to himself before he focused his attention back on her. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, a little bit”

Upon her statement, Mox cupped her face in his hand and began to rub her cheek back and forth with his thumb, “I’ll have someone bring you a snack or something, so you won’t starve until dinner”.

She saw it in his eyes, there was something inside the blue orbs that demonstrated some level of vulnerability, and that she could use in her favor.

“Thank you” She whispered, casually leaning into his touch, testing the waters to see how far she could take in this first round. “Mox? Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course, kitty cat” His thumb now moved to her lips, brushing the rough pad of his finger against her bottom lip.

“Could you please not send Yuta? I-” Her eyes darted down to her feet, a sign of uncertainty, fear. She needed to play the victim perfectly in order to have him buy it. “He scares me” Her eyes focused on the baby blue orbs again. “When I was in the basement, he kept doing and saying things that made me uncomfortable and I…I don’t want to be alone with him”.

Something shifted in Moxley’s eyes, a flash of rage sipped through before being replaced with calmness.

“I’ll send someone else, kitty cat. Don’t worry about him, ok?” Mox pulled her towards him, engulfing her in a tight hug. Her head was placed under his chin as he played with her hair, her eyes stopped at the deer on the wall and now she understood its message. If she wanted to get out of this place alive, she would have to turn the predators into the preys.

She had finished showering when she heard the bedroom door opening. Footsteps made their way toward the bed and then came to a halt, the old bed springs squeaked as the man’s weight settled on top of the mattress. Damn, she wished she would’ve brought her clothes inside the bathroom with her! Now she would have to step out of the en suite bathroom, and be eyed like a piece of meat by whoever was across the door.

She took a deep breath in, in order to control her gag reflex, and slightly opened the bathroom door, peeking her head out to see who was on the other side.

“I was wondering how much longer would you stay inside the bathroom after the shower went off” Claudio smirked, pointing over to the silver platter on top of the bed “I brought your snack, come eat before it gets cold”.

Every instinct she possessed screamed for her to stay inside that bathroom, but her rational side knew that would bring up suspicions. So swallowing her fear and uncertainty, she stepped out of the bathroom and made her path to the opposite side of the bed from where Claudio sat.

“Come here” He beckoned her closer with his finger

God, would she like to just tell him to fuck off! Licking her dried lips, she carefully approached him. Claudio’s hand caressed her exposed thigh, he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of her smooth skin against his calloused palm before he slid his hand up underneath the towel.

Her eyes slightly widened in shock upon feeling his hand traveling up her hip. Claudio continued to explore her body, rough fingertips now gently drew circles on her waist, only stopping underneath her breast.

“I think we need to have a little chat, don’t you?”

[seedsofagony]

Showgirl (KnY ♡ Tengen)

Cherrytober Day 23: To The Music // Tights/Stockings

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Uzui Tengen

Word Count: 760

Summary: modern au, x reader (f wearing lingerie), ambiguous alcohol use (Tengen), striptease (Tengen receiving), masturbation (reader), voyeurism (Tengen), clothes stay on (Tengen), implied unprotected sex, no pregnancy

Notes: Unleash your inner Dita Von Teese ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

The stage is set. Two chairs face each other in a dimly lit room, music playing in the background—a wordless, sensuous beat.

Tengen sits in one chair, clad in a black shirt and slacks. He leans back, ankle thrown casually over his knee, his chin resting on his fist. His other arm hangs over the armrest, a glass of amber liquid dangling from his hand.

You stand before the second chair, wrapped in a silk robe, waiting for your cue.

Tengen lifts his drink to his mouth and sips, ice clinking. "Take it off," he says, lowering the glass, resting it on his knee. "Nice and slow."

Smiling, you tug one end of the bow circling your waist, pulling it until the belt comes undone. You shrug your shoulders and let the robe slip off. The fabric flutters to the floor, landing in a heap around your ankles, revealing a matching lace set with a garter belt and silk stockings.

You turn your back to him, coy, feeling his eyes on you as you unclasp the bra. Taking it off, you hold it at arm's length, pausing to look over your shoulder and meet his gaze as you drop it. He smirks and laughs once, an appreciative hum deep in his chest.

Folding your arms over your breasts, you turn to face him again. He follows your every move—your hands sliding over and teasing your nipples, then down over your belly and hips, smoothing over your thighs as you lift one foot onto the edge of your chair.

You unclip a stocking from the garter belt and roll it down slowly, baring one leg and then the other. Straightening, you hook your thumbs in your waistband and shimmy the belt and panties off together. Stepping out of them, a puddle of lace and silk at your feet, you stand bared before him.

Tengen looks you up and down, the length of your legs and the mound between, your belly and breasts. Flicking his eyes to your face, he gestures with the glass.

"Give us a twirl, sweetheart."

You oblige, turning on your ankle, spinning slowly as he devours your profile, then the nape of your neck, small of your back, and the peach of your bottom. You turn to face him again, thighs brushing together, a pleasant warmth spreading through your core.

"Really pretty." He nods to your chair, "Why don't you have a seat?"

Again, you oblige, easing onto the plush cushion, waiting for your next cue. When it comes, Tengen delivers it in an even, expectant tone.

"Touch yourself."

You inhale, a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Parting your knees, you slide your hand between your legs. You swipe your slit with two fingers, already wet, and glide up to your clit. Your flesh blooms beneath your touch, bud swelling as you rub, pluck, and knead.

Tengen's eyes are still on you—not on your hand, but holding your gaze as you finger yourself. A flush rises in your cheeks, and you find yourself looking away. He laughs, another satisfied hum.

"Don't be shy. You're doing so good."

Tapping your clit, you force your attention back between your legs. It doesn't take long to find your pace again. Fingers stroking up and down, breath quickening, you bring yourself closer to your brink.

"That's it, baby," Tengen sits up. "Show me how pretty you are when you cum."

You push your hips forward, grinding into your own hand as you work. Your climax comes in a rush, drawing a gasp from your lips and a low moan as your core throbs.

"Very nice."

Panting, you raise your eyes to Tengen. He lifts his forgotten glass to his lips, ice all but melted, and drains it. Setting it down, he pats his thigh. "Come here."

Head still reeling, you push yourself out of your chair, a damp circle where you had been sitting. Tengen leans back as you climb into his lap, steadying you by the hip as you straddle him. His cock strains against the fabric of his slacks, his own damp spot leaking from his tip. 

"I could watch you all night," he murmurs. His eyes rove over you, taking in every inch of your soft, bare skin. One hand still on your hip, he uses the other to unfasten his belt.

"I could watch you all night," he murmurs. He flips open the button on his pants and draws down the zipper. "But now I want to see what you can do. Pull it out and bounce."

[fallenstarsgc]

Hihi!! This is a blog dedicated to (mostly) the Fallen Stars, 2019-2021 Version!

This is kinda like an FAQ thing, tho I take it more as "For (almost) All Questions" than "Frequently..."

Asks are open!

Warnings are at the bottom of the post, before the "About the Admin", sorry!

I use mostly what I have from the Gacha community from back then as inspiration/goals for them/etc, tho they have a bit more character than just "emo uwu baby" or the like! I still place a lot of their characters into the old tropes.

This also means they don't follow the truly canon characters! A lot of it is made up and fanonised!

Another factor into this is that I also cannot find a lot of canon information to ALL these characters in the time span that I'd still be motivated to even do this, as it takes a lot of time. So it's headcanons and fanon mixed!

There are two Chara's and Frisk's in this team, one pair are adults and dating Sans (19 y/os) + she/her pronouns, the other pair is small Frisk and Ghost!Chara who both use they/them! Also I mix a lot of the ideas people have/had for both Star Sanses and Fallen Stars, this meaning the team'll end up pretty big!

This is like found family trope but instead of them just having a "family type" they're also dating kinda! Like a really big poly but unknowingly from some sides! They're confused but they got the spirit!

Small Character introductions here!

Shattered/Dream; a kind-hearted spirit and prior Positive Guardian that has fallen due to his brothers hatred towards him, and several other factors. No one besides the team knows he is corrupted. (he/him)

Ink; after his friends' disappearance and other friends' crash in the antivoid, his vials had been taken away. Occasionally at Error's for fights or "fights" still (he/they)

Blueberror; prior Swap, after being (more or less) forced to stay in the antivoid for just too long he has glitched out and became this version. Mocks Error often and has taken on a slight parental role, just more strict and rude. (he/him)

Unlust/Cher; used to be Lust, but after Events in his au and with Red, an underfell sans, she stepped up for themself and went with Yanberry into the Fallen Stars. His LV has changed her body drastically. She's also the tallest. (any pronouns)

Yanberry; named Blueberry prior to seeing his brother killed in front of her by his Chara. After the reset, he had somehow kept his memory, making him go mad and kill almost everyone in her AU. Shattered had found him and brought him into the Team while he was stalking Dust. (he/him w occasional she/her)

Frisk; since she is now an adult, she is casually dating Sans and Chara. Often goes onto "missions" with the team. She's more or less of a hypocrite and a bit mean, tho she tries to be nice still. Will attack you if you try and hurt Sans. (she/her)

Chara; since she is now an adult, she also started casually dating Sans and Frisk. She feels bad for what happened, and the yellow flowers blooming on her head are a constant reminder of her wrong-doings. (she/her)

Little Frisk/Fry; they're a little sweetheart! But they're also dangerous. Don't step on the bugs they'll kill you for harming their friends :( (they/them)

Ghost!Chara/Charm; they're nice, but also like your intrusive thoughts. And they don't leave Fry alone ever. Also their crush is chocolate fyi (they/them)

Cor!Classic; not a lot is known about him. all we know is he's LV20 and dangerous. (he/him)

Honorable Character mentions:

Sci (neutral ground), Outer (occasionally drops by), Core (had no true choice), Ghost!Dream (from another dimension)

The Bad-Now-Good Guys:

Nightmare; Usually really mean and rude, but is also the only one allowed to hurt Dream. Could possibly corrupt back but doesn't due to fear, most likely.

Killer; more of a malevolent person to the Stars. Knows Cross's dirty little secret but keeps shut about it so he stays still about his own. Nightmare's right hand

Horror; Usually stays at Farm's place, but is also still more than not in the castle, usually by Murder's side. Keeps out of missions a lot but is pretty brutal when it comes to it.

Dust; A somewhat nicer version of Murder. Unaware of Yanberry's stalking&yandere behaviour towards him.

Murder; Stays with Horror a lot. His face is just gone and it unnerves Yan. Just as brutal as Horror and Killer, with LV20.

Cross; Stayed by Nightmare due to not wanting to come over as a traitor. However he is a traitor by simply dating/loving Dream. Keeps undercover.

Honorable Character mentions:

Error (doesn't care a lot), Farm (kind, neutral side character), Color (tries salvaging Killer, it doesn't work)

Please stay kind for all of this! I'm still learning how to do blogs such as these.

I might end up drawing human version instead of skeletons, and this doesn't really have a lot of big meaning, I just felt like drawing humans that day XD

Dust and Murder are two seperate Dust's/Murder's to me. This is why Yanberry can stalk Dust while Murder will be left untouched by this.

This account will mostly run off asks, so sending them in, no matter what they may be, is appreciated!

Also if there's text instead of a drawing to an ask, then that day I wanted to reply but could not find the energy to draw one! It's not because I favour anyone, I just have changing energy/motivation.

Updates can vary, due to me not having my computer and tablet with me 24/7

Possible triggers/warnings/might mention: self-harm/sh, past abuse, yandere behaviour, genocide routes (UT-way), death

(more to be added)

About the Admin!

↳ Orange ; they/them ; main - @orange-dreamzer

↳

-

(always updating) Videos from that time range:

How Bad Sanses found out... - Link

Bad Guys react + Passive... - Link

Bad Sans Meet... - Link

Bad Sans react... - Link

Fallen Stars meet Bad Sans - Link

Singing Battle(s) - Links one ,

Other memes: Lambada , Stars+Fallen , Angry Too ,

[random-imagines-blog]

Riverdale Masterlist

In an attempt to organize the blog and keep everything in order, masterlists are being made to join together into a masterlist of masterlists to make it easier for those on mobile. Thanks for being patient!

⭐ contains smut.

Archie Andrews

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Archie Andrews wanting to step up to be the boyfriend you deserve.

Imagine Archie trying to figure out the right words to win you over.

Imagine camping with Archie Andrews.

Betty Cooper

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine playing small pranks on Betty to cheer her up.

Imagine revealing to Betty that she’s made you feel insecure.

Imagine exploring an abandoned building with Betty Cooper

Jughead Jones

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine going UFO sighting with Jughead.

Imagine drawing Jughead while he sleeps

Veronica Lodge

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Veronica taking care of you when you’re sick.

Imagine Veronica Lodge inviting you for a private trip on Hiram’s yacht.

Imagine Veronica Lodge moving in with you.

Cheryl Blossom

Oneshots

Holding (Cheryl Blossom)

Imagines

Imagine the first time you tell Cheryl Blossom you love her.

Imagine surprising Cheryl for her birthday.

Imagine telling Cheryl Blossom and Toni Topaz about your abusive partner.  

Toni Topaz

Oneshots

Infinity

Lightbringer

Metamorphosis

Imagines

Imagine telling Cheryl Blossom and Toni Topaz about your abusive partner.  

Imagine Toni Topaz taking you on a night swim.

Imagine taking Toni Topaz on a date in the woods.

Reggie Mantle

Oneshots

Promise Me (Part 1)

Promise Me (Part 2)

Imagines

Imagine being in a poly relationship with Reggie Mantle and Sweet Pea

Sweet Pea

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine the Ghoulies kidnapping you in front of Sweet Pea.

Imagine being the first person to hug Sweet Pea.

Imagine being in a poly relationship with Reggie Mantle and Sweet Pea

Fred Andrews

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine going over your wedding plans with Fred Andrews.

Imagine Fred Andrews taking on extra hours so he can take you on a vacation

FP Jones

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine going on a ride with FP Jones. 

Imagine FP’s reaction to you getting fiesty with enemies of the Serpents.

Imagine being Archie Andrews’s older sister and dating FP Jones

Hermione Lodge

Oneshots

House of Cards ⭐

Beacon ⭐

Imagines

Imagine making Hermione a home-cooked meal.

Imagine Hermione Lodge being your dominatrix.

Hiram Lodge

Oneshots

Love Peas

Wide Awake

Imagines

Imagine getting into a very heated argument with Hiram Lodge.

Imagine distracting Hiram Lodge while he’s working by appearing in your underwear.

Imagine being Hiram Lodge’s young lover, and him adjusting to the changes.

Imagine Hiram Lodge introducing you to the family as his ‘Baby Girl’.

Imagine charming Hiram Lodge into a game of strip poker.

Imagine almost getting caught with Hiram Lodge, by his daughter Veronica.

Imagine cuddling with Hiram Lodge after a long day.

Imagine being Archie Andrews brother and casually admitting to Hiram Lodge that you like watching him work out at the gym.

Imagine Hiram Lodge inviting you to his private gym.

Imagine being Archie’s brother, and being intimate with Hiram Lodge for the first time

Josie McCoy

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine inviting Josie McCoy to try out your new hot tub with you.

Imagine Josie getting annoyed when Reggie flirts with you.

Imagine Josie McCoy writing a duet for the two of you.

Imagine getting ready with Josie and the Pussycats

[angeldelioncourt]

Introduction

My name is Angel, and I am a 30 something year old of many interests. I'm returning to tumblr after a long break - I don't think I've been on here in almost a decade. I first found tumblr in early 2010 when I was a teenager, and it was my favorite "social media" for years. I did so much on this platform in that time - I blogged, I made lifelong friendships that I still hold so close to my heart today, I wrote stories and fanfiction. I'm thrilled to be back and have a blogging space again. I can't wait to share my art.

What art, you may be asking yourself... And my answer is, the sky is the limit!

While I am primarily a dancer and love to express myself through movement (particularly sensual movement - I will elaborate on this later, I could write a whole novel about it!), I also dabble in other arts. I used to write frequently - both poetry and fiction, and I am hoping that being on tumblr again (which didn't quite start my love of writing but definitely honed it) will bring that out of me once more. I even used to draw, but I don't know if I will be revisiting that just yet. Maybe!

I love modeling and creating a story and vibe through photos, and I want to find more opportunities to do so. With a lovely friend's help, I have been slowly dipping my toes into film photography. I have an inexpensive little film camera that I am starting off with. I don't know if it will go beyond the casual little hobby it is for me right now, and I'm fine with that. It's okay to casually enjoy things and not dive in sometimes. It's also okay to dive in, of course, if it feels right. For right now, I'm enjoying keeping this light and fun.

I love to sing, though I'm not sure when I will feel comfortable sharing that aspect of myself. Someday, definitely, but when? Who knows. I used to dabble in acting as well, and I miss stepping into someone else's shoes from time to time. I want to return to the theatre at some point. There just isn't enough time in the day, especially with work and school.

Speaking of school, I'm currently a Business undergrad and I plan to specialize in Accounting and Finance. While I am very much an artist in my soul, I am also ambitious and enjoy math. I spent a lot of my youth and my 20s wondering what I wanted to do with my career, and after a lot of reflection and introspection (and hustling), I've come to realize I'd like to have a stable and secure career so that I can spend my off time focused on what really matters most to me.

And what is that? Art, creating, and most importantly - the little family I have built with my amazing partner and our fur babies. These are the things that bring me the most joy. I probably won't share much about my personal life, I like to keep that close. Too many evil eyes out there (likely even going out of their way to read this... how strange). It may seem like I already share a lot, but what you see is only a curated glimpse into a deep life.

I have many layers to share, and many left to peel back, too. One of my favorite parts about life is the endless discovery and evolution of the self. I love witnessing it in both myself and others. While I do feel like much of humanity is beyond saving, there is still a small subset of humanity that is so beautiful, so kind and caring, and so worthy of celebration and admiration. Perhaps that's what this blog is for - to showcase the aspects of humanity, life, and this stunning planet that I love most. I hope that it brings a little joy and inspiration to your life, too.

[sixminutestoriesblog]

hello?

It had grown dark in the time their mother had been gone. Liezel had been judged old enough to stay at home and watch over her little brother while her mother had taken her newest sister, who had just learned how to walk, across the village to see her aunt. Liezel had felt very grown up when her mother had entrusted her with her brother but now the evening shadows were fading into true night and the darkness was as thick as drawn curtains over the windows. She could hear sounds from the other houses nearby, people going about their nightly routines but everything sounded muted and much too far away. Whispers from the trees behind the house sounded much closer, the snap of a stick breaking somewhere in the foliage as sharp as a slap in the night. Her brother, rambunctious all day, had grown quieter the darker it had gotten, creeping closer and closer to where she sat trying to do her homework just as surely as the shadows crept closer under the door and from the corners of the room. After he bumped her elbow for the third time, messing up her admittedly already shaky attempts at solving math problems, she gave in and held her arm out and open for him. He took the invitation even though he said all the time, in the light of day, that he wasn't a baby anymore and didn't need to be snuggled. His warm body pressed against her side and she wrapped that arm around him, holding him close for his own courage - and hers too. Outside, the night had grown very quiet. The sounds of the village were gone. The darkness had swallowed everything and all that was left, safe in this world, was the small room with its tiny brave light.

The step outside the front door creaked. Her brother's grip on her tightened.

"It's just mama," she whispered to him but her throat was dry when she did and her whisper was very quiet.

Something brushed the door, the soft drag of cloth. Then - a knock.

"Tao po," softly sang a voice from the other side of the wooden barrier.

If you're Filipino, or familiar with that culture, (and if I wrote the above properly) you've just breathed a sigh of relief. The elongated form of the phrase is: "Tao po ako, hindi aswang".

"I am human and not aswang."

In Filipino folkore, the word aswang covered multiple monsters and they all had one thing in common. They were shapeshifters. Well, two things in common. They preyed on humans. What better way to get close enough to your human prey than to pretend to be someone they knew? So, especially when visiting, it was for the peace of mind of everyone involved to clear up the fact you were human right away. An aswang couldn't say the key phrase and it would give itself away immediately if it tried.*

*on that note - if I have anyone from the Philippines following my blog - I couldn't find out why. Is it a lack of ability to speak or just the inability of the tongue or an inability to lie? I'd love to hear the answer if anyone would like to share. All my research articles said they couldn't, but none of them would tell me why.

The Philippines isn't the only place to use a similar trick against shapeshifters either. In Japan, casual phone conversations often start with the phrase: "moshi moshi". Shapeshifting kitsune and other youkai apparently can't say the word 'moshi' twice in a row. So you can be sure you're having a conversation with who you really think you're having a conversation with if you both start off the conversation this way**

** casual conversation. 'Moshi moshi' is considered too casual for anyone but close friends and family. Also maaaaaybe its not entirely about kitsune. I also found notes that 'moshi moshi' is the cut down version of phrases switchboard operators used in Japan as the phone was first coming into use, a polite way to answer the upper class Japanese that were rich enough to be able to afford phones at the time.

Whatever the case, phrases like these are proof that humanity has collectively been searching down through the ages for ways to make sure that the things that come calling in the darkness of the night aren't hungry tricksters in disguise. Tao po, my friends. There's no one here but us humans.

[mythvoiced]

-. wenzhe-core (pt. 4 tbh pt. 4 was gonna be qianru-centric but i'm moving it to pt.5)

really disappointed if the 'jason derulo' or pitbull yell is missing from the song, he will go :O >:|

one of the taller muses on this blog (excluding muses like nathaniel & hermes who are Tall™ to make them a lil Uncanny; Hermes is the tallest muse btw) but wants to be the little spoon So Bad

has absolutely broken a pair of glasses by sitting on them

if he takes a really, really deep breath and just sort of holds it with an unreadable expression then he's very much counting to ten in his head

can't do the thing where you wet your fingers to flip a page better because if his wet finger comes in contact with anything papery he'll do a full body visceral shudder

pray that he never accidentally drop his ice cream he's not mentally built to go through that and i am not even joking oh my god

there's a good chance he'll cry or sort of dissociate due to the ferocity of his reaction if you kiss his forehead

his whole thing is mostly Very Casual & Relaxed & Assertive on the outside but so i so close to spiraling at all times

phone always on at night, notifications always on, if you call him in the middle of the night he will pick up

the babygirlification of xu wenzhe

he's that tiktok of the guy bemoaning the fact that he's 6'3 but wants to be dainty and babied

'who's that pokemon?' 'IT'S PIKACHU' 'it's clefairy!' 'FUUCK'

if he's muttering classic vines under his breath that's fine don't worry he's all right just wenzhe in his natural habitat

absolutely genuinely and in all seriousness: what the hell is eurovision, do they... do they look at? at the world from an european angle?? i'm-?? it's colonialism and the roman catholic church, babes, what is there to look at

NO it's frankenstein's MONSTER, the SCIENTIST is frankenstein, that's NOT THE MONSTER'S NAME--

you will NEVER... NEVER catch this man(?) confessing his feelings to someone

in response to the question 'what are your pronouns': why what are you saying about me

will pronounce things wrong with his whole entire chest

pretty much anti-discovering anything new about himself

a few 'Oh That's Very Wenzhe' shots of his manga fc: here, here, here

born to "haiii uwu <33" forced to "yo wsg"

would you still love me if i was a worm

what? no, it's not neurodivergency i'm just quite literally The Worst Person To Ever Exist

a few more 'Oh That's Very Wenzhe' shots of his manga fc: here, here, here

what? no, why would i go home? i'm perfectly fine, i don't get sick- (nasal voice, half-hunched-over, sweaty, wheezes after having taken only two steps, hallucinated two separate cats out of the corner of his eye)

smart kid highschool wenzhe voice: copying my homework costs two weeks of snacks, copying from tests can go up to a month of snacks-

someone: gosh he's so tall and he looks so cool and mysterious i wonder what he's thinking about; wenzhe's brain: hi- hi- welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you, a pink drink? hm, is that your idea of being funny? what're you gonna get then? ... a pink drink. hm~ what size? a medium. mm-mm, i don't know what that is. it's like between a small and a larg- ssh, mm-mm, no; we go by tall, grande, and venti here? most people know that. oh, do i look like most people, sweetheart? absolutely not. hm, that was a little condescending, don't you think? was it? yeah. cool! ... can i get a name for your order?