#breastfeeding on a plane

[travelingonanemptystomach]

How to Fly with a Baby

[tragenderproxy]

Oh thats a woman breast feeding her 2 year old. Ok

[rafeandonlyrafe]

babys first flight

words: 1.3k

warnings: flying, dad!rafe, mom!reader, breastfeeding, dude briefly being rude about your baby crying

a/n: i guess this could be a prequel to pink unicorn but honestly i just wanted to use the same name for the baby again lol

rafe sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he looks at the flight board. you can tell from the defeated look on his face as he walks back over to you that your flight is delayed.

“two hours.” he states, sitting down next to you. you sigh just as deeply as your husband, looking at your sleeping daughter in your arms.

“i think i should wake her up. that way she falls asleep on the plane.” you say, running your finger over rosie’s cheek, her skin soft and flushed pink as she naps.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “whatever you think is best.” rafe defaults often to you, letting you guide the way through raising your daughter. he has experience with his two younger sisters, but you grew up in an even bigger family and often helped out with the babies.

you feel bad having to wake rosie up, especially when she’s asleep during her usual naptime. “wake up, babygirl.” you coo, pressing kisses to her cheeks until her eyes open up, lips instantly turning into a pout.

“its okay!” you stretch a smile over your face. “its okay, rosie!” your soft tone stops her tears, but her pout remains. you jiggle her favorite toy in front of her. your daughter is only three months old and still working on her grip, so you manage to entertain her by placing the toy in her hand every time she drops it.

“here, let me take her.” rafe reaches out. “you stretch your legs and take a break.”

you glance at the clock. still an hour and a half until you can get on your plane. its a short flight, from north carolina to the bahamas for a much needed vacation, deciding to spend the entire summer at your second home while rafe has paternity time away from work.

“gonna use the bathroom.” you press a kiss to rafes cheek, then rosies. “be right back.”

you don’t hurry as you walk around the airport, glad that you’re booked in first class and can use the lounge as the bustling sounds of the airport would surely annoy rosie. 

you use the bathroom and get a coffee for rafe, deciding to ditch the decaf and get a mocha for yourself. while you know its generally safe to drink coffee while breastfeeding, you still try to stay away from it, but on days like today, you certainly need it.

“here ya go.” you hand the coffee to your husband after making your way back to the waiting area.

“oh god, thank you.” rafe lets out a moan as he tips the cup back, the warm liquid filling his mouth. he bounces rosie gently on his knee to keep her eyes open.

“would we be terrible parents if i turned on something on my phone for her to watch?” you pout, trying hard to keep her away from screens, but sometimes you just need something to distract her.

“we absolutely would not but if it makes you feel better, i’ll use my phone.” rafe pulls it out of his pocket, transferring rosie easily back into your arms. you cradle her in a way that still allows her to look at the phone screen, her eyes glancing between rafes face cooing at her and the dancing fruits and vegetables.

“shes loving this.” rafe laughs when rosie giggles, her plump cheeks stretching. rosie just started laughing last week, and rafe is still the only one who can get it out of her, although she smiles at you constantly since she first developed the muscles.

“now boarding first class.” the announcer calls out, the hour flying by with rosie entertained.

“she just started looking tired too.” rafe says, taking your carry ons in his hands as you place rosie into her sling, deciding to babywear her until you’re all settled in your seats and can put her in the carseat that rafe also manages to carry.

“welcome aboard.” the flight attendant smiles at you, leading you towards your seats. three all in a row. rafe works quickly to get everything set, placing rosies carseat in the middle seat.

“babys first flight!” you coo to her, hoping to keep her awake through boarding so she will hopefully sleep the entire two hour flight.

“here, i got her.” rafe places her in the carseat once its all strapped down, waiting to do up her buckle until the plane actually takes off.

you both talk partially to her and partially to each other to keep her eyes open, even occasionally giving her tummy little tickles to keep her droopy eyes from closing completely.

while the flight attendant does the safety demonstration, you do up rosie’s buckles. she’s asleep before the plane even begins to move, and you’re surprised when she doesn’t even startle during take off. you reach over to hold rafes hand until you’re steady in the air, hating the rising feeling in your stomach.

“doing good baby?” rafe asks, swiping his thumb over the back of your hand.

you take a deep breath. “yeah, yeah.” looking at rosie and your husband helps sooth the little bit of nerves you have about flying.

the flight goes smoothly until halfway to the bahamas, rosie suddenly startles away with a cry.

“ohhh, its okay baby.” you coo to her, able to recognise from her cry alone that she’s simply hungry.

“oh god, will you shut that baby up?” a man behind you groans before you can even undo her buckles to get her out of her seat.

“what did you say about my daughter?” rafe stands up, glaring as you just try to quiet rosie, pulling her into her lap while you search for a blanket to cover yourself with.

“you heard me! i didn’t pay for first class seats to listen to a crying baby!” the man grunts.

“you’re lucky we’re on a plane or-” rafe begins, until you hiss out his name. “stop it, let the flight attendants handle it.”

rafe sees the stress on your face, nodding as he grabs you a thin blanket, draping it over your shoulder while you adjust your shirt to feed rosie, her cries quieting as she latches onto your nipple.

“sir, that is not appropriate behavior for our airline-” the flight attendant begins to lecture the man behind you, clearly a mom herself. 

“it’s okay.” you tell rafe as he turns his shoulder to glare at the man. you rub your hand over his cheek just like you would to rosie until he’s calm.

“dudes an asshole.” rafe grunts out, but his tone is softer now, leaning across rosies car seat to press a kiss to your cheek. he pulls the blanket away slightly so he can look down at your daughter, happily nursing.

“she’s so perfect.” he sighs, glad he has such a well behaved baby for her first flight.

you both settle into your seats as rosie finishes, clearly just needing her tummy to be full before going right back to sleep. you decide to keep her in your arms until the plane begins to descend. 

“i got her.” rafe pushes your hands away to do up her seat belts. he knows how much of a stress pregnancy and breastfeeding is on you, so he tries to do absolutely everything he can, even naming himself the sole diaper changer.

you hold rafes hand again as the plane descends, letting out a sigh of relief when the wheels make smooth contact with the runway.

--

“this was absolutely worth the pain of the flight.” you smile to rafe, resting your head on his shoulder as rosie lays on the towel in front of you, body completely shaded by a pink umbrella.

you look out onto the ocean, waves lightly lapping against the pale yellow sand.

“couldn’t agree more.” rafe hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

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[russellsppttemplates]

Daddy's here, buddy (Lewis Hamilton)

A look into the Hamilton household now that they are a family of three

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time on hold (I know it has been a while, like, a really long time), I'm finally posting this one. I won't blame you if you have left, especially since it took me so long, but if you're still around, I hope you like this, anon!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions pregnancy, postpartum (difficulties walking, breastfeeding, soreness)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

As soon as Lewis was able, he flew straight back home, promising Toto and the rest of the team a detailed written debrief he worked on while he was on the plane.

When he landed, one of your friends was there to drive him straight home, "they are both doing well so the doctor discharged them this morning, they watched the race at home already with your mum", she smiled, noticing his antsyness, "we'll stop by my place so you can have a shower and change clothes, and then you'll get to meet him. I know I'm biased, and you'll be too, but he's the cutest little boy ever", she smiled, reassuring him that everything was well underway and that they were being careful with the baby's health.

"Carmen, can I have some water, please?", Lewis heard you call for his mother as he walked through the stairs that led the garage to the living area of the house, seeing the older woman pour the liquid into a mug and bringing it to you along with a straw.

"Hey, look who's here!", you smiled, handing the mug back to your mother in-law when you finished sipping from it.

Lewis walked closer to you, rubbing his mother's arm before he kissed the top of your head, taking a peek at the bundle in your arms. Baby Noah has been sleeping against your chest, pillowy lips agape without another care in the world, but he seemed to stir as he felt his father's presence in the room.

"Someone wants to meet daddy", you cooed as Lewis sat next to you on the sofa, arms expectantly held out as you transferred the baby to his arms.

Taking the baby wrapped up in the beige blanket and placing him on his chest, Lewis let one of his hands rest on his son's back to hold him close.

"Hey Noah", he whispered, looking up briefly to see his mother and wife smiling at them, "You were slightly early, weren't you? Daddy wasn't here when you came earthside, and I'm very sorry for it, but now we have all the time in the world", he whispered, softly touching his cheek and moving to stroke his head, feeling the soft baby hair.

Noah looked up at him as tears filled his eyes, "I couldn't wait to get home to you and mummy. I'm sure a lot of people want to meet you, I got told that much in the paddock", he smiled at the beautiful boy in his arms. "It's ok", Lewis whispered as the baby started getting fussy, opening his mouth and squinting his eyes closed as he cried loudly.

A quick look at the clock made you suddenly reach your arms out for your crying little boy, "he's hungry, it's just about time", you nudged, cradling him to you and kissing his forehead.

"I'm going to go, dears, leave you in your newborn bubble", Carmen smiled, "if you need anything, and I mean anything, call me, okay?", she checked, kissing your head and Lewis' before squeezing her grandson's little hand softly, "goodbye, baby boy, behave well for mummy and daddy, okay?".

After she saw herself out, you undid the top buttons of your shirt, unfastening the bra cover so you could feed your little boy, "That's it, good boy", you cooed, feeling your husband's eyes on you.

"We watched the race, congratulations on your podium", you smiled, your hand squeezing your husband's thigh once you balanced your baby on the feeding pillow.

"Thanks", he breathed out, "I still can't believe he's here, that he's ours", he shook his head, "we have our little boy here with us.

"Thank you for doing this for our family, I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner", he expressed, kissing your lips softly as Noah whined, "daddy can't kiss mummy, now? Oh, this is going to be interesting!".

.

"Am I doing this right? I think I am", your heard your husband say to your son as you started to wake up, "looks secured enough. Hopefully we won't have any explosions and nothing comes out of here".

Your hissing while trying to pull yourself up announced you were awake as your husband turned his torso slightly to face you, "mummy is awake, little love", he beamed, finishing popping the buttons on your son's clothes so he was comfortable.

By the time you found a way to pull yourself up and against the headboard, Lewis was sitting next to you, ready to pass Noah into your arms so you could feed him, "are you still feeling sore?", he asked, kissing your cheek.

"It's not as bad as yesterday", you assured him while you moved your boob so Noah could latch, ignoring the sting as his lips met your sensitive skin, "my back feels fine, but moving my legs might be tricky still", you offered.

"The midwife said that would be expected, so we'll just keep an eye out for anything serious, yes?", your husband said as you took the opportunity to rest your body against his naked chest, his arm going around your shoulders and softly tracing shapes on your bare skin.

"Can you burp him while I use the bathroom?", you asked as Lewis as he got up, burping him while standing up as you slowly got up as well, waddling to the en suite bathroom.

"Are you going to sleep now, little one?", he cooed, rocking him to sleep once all of the air trapped in his tummy got out, "you have a clean nappy, full tummy, and daddy needs to go and make sure mummy is okay", he chuckled, "with time, you'll see it takes her a while until she asks for help even though she's usually been needing it for way longer".

"Lew?", you called from the bathroom, "yes, darling?", he called back as he knocked on the door softly, asking for your permission to look inside, "I need to have a shower, but I don't trust my legs to keep me up, and sitting on the floor is not a good idea so, like - do we even have a stool I can sit on? -, I need something to support myself on", you asked.

"Noah is asleep, I can leave him here, in the middle of our bed, keep the door open and help you with your shower if that's okay", Lewis offered, "if I look around, I might find something, but I'm not sure we own a stool that can be put in water".

Weighing your options, you waddled back to your boys, kissing Noah's forehead and looking up at Lewis, "you don't mind helping?", you wondered.

Lewis placed Noah on the bed, making sure he was in an angle where you could see him from the bathroom, "c'mon, shower time, darling", he soflty nudged.

He turned on the warm water as you undressed yourself, disposing the underwear safely in the bathroom bin and walking into the shower compartment, thankful that Lewis insisted you needed a wide and ample space for it as it now perfectly accommodated the two of you once he had no clothes on either.

"Is the temperature good?", he asked and you nodded. Your body didn't feel wrong to you, just new, and Lewis seemed to be on the same page, tracing your hips and tummy softly while you wet your hair.

By now, the routine was so engraved in your lives that Lewis knew which steps followed which, only stopping when you needed to support yourself on him, to steal a few kisses or take a peek of Noah.

"Now he's sleeping well", you muttered chuckling as you wrapped a towell around your body, accepting Lewis' hand as he took you to the bedroom, "I have your underwear ready with those witch hazel round pads to help with the soreness", he added.

Helping you put them on along with the rest of your clothes he gathered from the drawers, your husband left a trail of kisses anywhere his mouth was close enough to your skin as he dressed you, "how about a nap? Noah surely kept us up so we could do with some sleep", he smiled, pulling you to lie against his chest while you cradled your son against your own chest.

.

"I know, baby, I know", you gulped, grabbing the silicone covers for your nipples while bouncing Noah on your bent legs, "mummy is trying to make this better for both of us, hopefully this works", you tried, fitting the piece and pulling Noah to you, encouraging him to suck.

The specialist had told you that using the covers would help you in days where the skin was extra sensitive, but its continuous use could mean that Noah would have to work harder to get his milk in, leaving him to get more tired and eat less, ultimately making him drop his weight.

"Hey, darling, I'm back", Lewis called from the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets as he stored away the things he bought from the shop.

"In the living room", you croaked out, holding the tears that threatened to fall as Noah seemed to drift off to sleep, "ah-ah, baby boy, you have to eat more, otherwise you won't grow", you groaned, taking off the silicone piece and biting your lip as his lips made contact with your skin directly.

The tears you worked on keep at bay fell down your cheeks as Lewis walked inside the living room, "hey, darling, I - what's the matter?", he checked you over, sitting next to you as you looked up at the ceiling.

"It hurts, a lot", you cried, "the only way it doesn't hurt is if I have these on, but with them he won't eat, so I have to compromise that", you allowed him to wipe your cheeks, "what a great mother I am, talking about compromise when I am feeding my baby", you scoffed at your own words.

"Hey, it's okay to talk about it if it hurts, darling. I'm so, so sorry, I wish I could do something to take that pain away", he comforted, kissing your cheeks as he pushed your bodies closing together.

"I will rub the cream afterwards, and we can try the silver nipple covers, we haven't done that yet", he suggested, his hands tracing shapes on your skin and squeezing the area, hoping to distract you from the pain you were feeling.

"I'll put him to sleep, okay? You can go and freshen up, darling", Lewis said as he bounced Noah on his arms after burping him, giving you time to use the bathroom and get a little bit of fresh air.

After splashing your face with water, you lightly dabbed the towell on your face before walking to the kitchen, opening the door that lead to the back garden and standing in the sun for a few minutes.

It was easy to get lost. A lot of people, specially the ones who were brutally honest about the whole experience, told you that much. Not out of spite or because they wanted to scare you, but rather because they cared enough to tell you about all of it. It was easy to lose yourself because all your focus was on your baby. Truth was, if you lost yourself, your baby would end yo suffering, too, so the whole situation required balance. Right now, the sun rays hitting your skin seemed to tip the scales to an even line.

"He's asleep already", you heads Lewis say, baby monitor on hand hand and another one with a cup of tea for you, "here, beautiful", he offered.

"Everytime I look at his face, I can't believe we made him. Such a perfect baby, how is he ours? But, it's also a lot sometimes", you breathed out, letting go of the guilt that was consuming you and recognising that you could love your family unconditionally and still admit that things could get hard. One didn't override the other.

"It's okay to admit that", Lewis said, pulling you to rest your back against his chest, "but we'll go, day by day, see what it brings us. You're doing so well, Y/N, you've been so strong for our family", he smiled, kissing the top of your head, "will you let me take care of you now?", he wondered, guiding you back inside for a little pamper session.

.

"Your tummy really is troubling you, isn't it, little one?", Lewis said as Noah didn't seem to settle down, cries and whimpers leaving the little baby's mouth as he rocked him back and forth, "should we try those massages daddy was taught in the baby classes?".

Laying Noah on the changing table, Lewis unswaddled him before holding his legs, "first we go into frog mode", he chuckled, pulling the little legs into position before wiggling his hips and tummy, "the nurse in the baby classes said to wiggle a little, and apparently you are very flexible at this point, so you're like putty almost. It's a bit scary, but you seem to be doing better, right buddy?", he said, noticing he was passing some gas already and his whimpers had died down.

As you came out of your shower, you watched the replied on your son's face as the noise coming from his diaper confirmed the reason from his previous pains, "Oh, that was a big one!", you giggled, approaching your boys as Lewis grabbed a new diaper, "I'm on it!", he said, kissing your cheek and taking care of changing Noah.

"Do you want to go on a walk this afternoon?", you wondered, "I feel a little better ans I want to start being a little more active. Nothing crazy, but rather a nice way to leave the house", you suggested, being met with your husband's sparkly eyes, "of course, darling. I'll get him a new outfit, we're going to be matching!", he smiled as he noticed the colour pattern you were going for.

[netherfeildren]

My Whole Life : A Fear of God Story

(Joel Miller x OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary: The family celebrates Joel's birthday.

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

Rating: Explicit 18+

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

Word Count: 9.8K

Read on AO3

MY WHOLE LIFE

And you’ll always love me, won’t you?

Yes.

And the rain won’t make a difference?

No.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“Another one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Bout what?” 

“Anything.”

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

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

“Yeah, kiddo. We did good.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” Joel frowns.

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“Joel–” you chastise.

“Five minutes.”

“Behave, they’re gonna–”

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

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

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

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

“He was helping me–”

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

“How do they do that?” Kate asks.

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

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

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

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

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

-

“What is a stork?”

“A bird,” Ellie provides. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bunny? You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are they for, Daddy?”

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

“What is verify?” One asks.

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

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

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

“What is to make sure?”

“To know something.”

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

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

-

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

“Would you quit, you little shit.”

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

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

“Oh?”

“It’s serious.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Sit on you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Said you told her no more biting.”

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

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

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

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

“She’s your daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t– Don’t come in my pussy then.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you love me,” you tell him.

“I love you, Birdie.”

Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

“Tell me that you’ll always love me.”

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

-

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

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[neoarchipelago]

Torn between :

Simon Riley who doesn't not/fears to have children because of his last trauma and hating his father. It's terrifying to him and it'll take a LOT of therapy to even consider having children. It's complicated to even see himself being a father.

And

Simon Riley who, every time he sees you, he sure wants you to be the one for the rest of his life. And he remembers how happy his brother was with his wife and little Joseph, just wants to have babies with you. He's scared but he wants to do better, and he is sure that he'll be better, because this is half of him and you. He'll love him/her like it's the only thing he breathes for. So he waits, he keeps the idea in mind, that only sleeps past his lips when he's buried deep inside your sweet cunt, praising and cooing about how he's going to fill you up with his cum.

And then he keeps it in mind, until he pops the question, until he sees you walk to the altar, until the first dance is over, until he's in the private plane offered by Laswell, going to the honeymoon in a secret place Price offered. Until he walks into the hotel room, holding you in his arms. Up to the point he slowly undresses you, eating you up like a madman until you're left shaking and sobbing. And perhaps it's a low blow but he slips his cock past your folds, slowly, raw, feeling you stretch around his fat cock as he coos:

"gonna make you mommy love? Do you want that?"

And you're already a mess because he had too much fun with you before even splitting you open. You register the words, not truly the full consequences of your answer though.

"y-yes... please... please..."

And he's gone.

You barely sleep that night. You wonder how that man has so much cum cuz you're left dripping every time. He cleans you up gently after, making sure to finger his cum back into you.

And it's the first try... cuz as soon as he's home his baby fever is off the roof. But he doesn't know that the first try was all it took. Cuz your next period isn't here, cuz he's in shock and ready to cry when he sees you, tears stained face as you hold a hand over your mouth and the over a small test with two bars clearly marked.

And then he's almost unbearable for the next 9 months. He tells Price first, and then the rest of the boys. They visit you back home with gifts, that Simon makes a point of checking each of them. This stuffed bear has buttons he needs to take them off, the baby might choke, etc etc.

The labor, he's in internal panic, but his military training and the love he has for you build up a facade of care and calm that helps you, oh so much, for your first delivery, that was long and exhausting.

It's all worth it for the look Simon gives your baby, holding them, skin to skin. He looks up at you, tears rolling down his cheeks, chanting 'thank you' again and again. It brings you to tears every time.

The way he looks at you when you're breastfeeding makes you blush and feel adored at the same time. You asked him once why he does it and he says:

"you're doing such a good job mama... feeding our little cub like that... fuck, it's going to grow big and strong, you're perfect."

You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him as you blush madly. You hold your baby too carefully to even consider moving.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Me right now because of my hormones:

[cowboywritersworld]

May I request a Will Ospreay x Reader, where Reader fem!/Will wife is angry at Don Callis, after she finds out that Callis eventually acknowledged that he sent Takeshita to attack Will and Ricochet last week and then all of a sudden Don callis goes after Will wife reader about how it’s her fault for getting involved in Will business and even says how their kids could possibly not be will? Fluff please

This is too much

General Masterlist | AEW Masterlist | Will Ospreay Masterlist

Characters: Will Ospreay, Reader, Don Callis

Prompt: May I request a Will Ospreay x Reader, where Reader fem!/Will wife is angry at Don Callis, after she finds out that Callis eventually acknowledged that he sent Takeshita to attack Will and Ricochet last week and then all of a sudden Don callis goes after Will wife reader about how it’s her fault for getting involved in Will business and even says how their kids could possibly not be will? Fluff please

You have just finished breastfeeding your little girl, setting her to burp, when you finally hear Don Callis acknowledge that he had sent Takeshita to attack your husband and Ricochet, the week before. You are relieved when Annie finally burps, setting her down in her bassinet, looking over at your four years old boy.

"Andrew, can you please take care of Annie for a bit? She is sleeping now and I'll send someone to take care of both of you, okay? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon though." You kiss him on the forehead, smiling when he nods eagerly.

"Of course, Mommy!" He kisses you on the cheek.

"Thank you."

You are not back on the roster, with Annie being born just a bit over three months ago, but you still follow Will around as much as you can. The little girl isn't accustomed to flying, you are introducing it slowly, when the places you need to be don't take too much hours by plane.

Now sure that both kids will be good, you leave the room, asking one coworker to please take care of them in the meantime. They are both very loved, so it is easy to find someone who will watch them.

As you reach Gorilla, you notice Don Callis getting back and shove him in the chest, really angry and pissed off at him. It seems to take him by surprise, the cameras are already rolling, but he smirks. You hate that smirk and if you could, you would slap it out of his face.

"So you were the one behind that all? You are an idiot! Do not ever touch him again!" You are fuming and Don just laughs at you.

"Why are you even blaming me, Y/N? After all, all this happened because of you. Ever since Will Ospreay met you, he changed, even more now that you gave him two kids." He smirks even more, knowing fully well how much you don't want him to mention them.

"Take our kids off your bloody mouth." You growl, trying to hold yourself back. "This has nothing to do with them!" You scream, shoving him once again.

"Getting involved in Will's business was the wrong move from you, Y/N. Getting involved in the Family's business was wrong too." He takes some steps towards you and you take two or three back. "Those kids sure are cute, but are we even sure they are Will's? He is always so focused on wrestling, when does he ever have time to make love to you?" His tone is so irritating...

You bite your lower lip, closing a hand to a fist and it takes all your willpower to not punch him in the face. "Annie and Andrew are his kids and you have no right to question such an important thing!" You are about to swing on him, but a hand poses on your shoulder and you smile, when you notice Will.

"Go back to our kids, I'll be there very soon, sweetie."

He whispers in your ear, giving you goosebumps, which thankfully are covered by the sweater you are wearing. You slowly calm down while you walk back to his locker room, taking a deep breath once you are in front of the door. You and Will both know that the kids are not someone else's, you have always loved him and never had sex with someone else, but it is difficult to stay calm. You purr when you feel Will's arms around your waist, sighing as you melt under his kisses on your neck.

"I talked to him, he'll never bring Annie and Andrew in this feud or any other, up ever again." Will whispers as he still kisses you, nuzzling into your neck.

"It was okay until he mentioned them. I don't care what he says about me, but there boundaries he shouldn't overstep." You say, turning in his hug, kissing him sweetly on the lips.

"It was hot seeing you step up to him, though." He chuckles, nodding serious then. "That's what I told him after the cameras went off. He apologizes for that." He smooches you on the nose. "Are you feeling better? I know it was hard for you to not punch him." He rubs his hands on your back, in a soothing way.

"I am feeling better. We should go now, I put Annie to sleep after feeding her and Andrew is surely tired." He would love to get intimate with him, but she is tired too. "Maybe we can order take-out and when we are at the hotel put Andrew to sleep. We can then have time for ourselves."

"That's a good plan. Let me order and then I can take Annie and drive us to the hotel. Love you, sweetie. You are a very special Mama and I am so glad you are our kid's mama. Thank you for choosing me to be at your side." He kisses you longer, both of you are panting when you finally part ways.

"Thank you too, Will. For being at my side, for our two beautiful children."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil {4}

Aemond Targaryen x deaf!fem!reader Summary: After the birth of your son there has not been any intimacy with Aemond, but that is about to change. Plus, Aemond being just a perfect husband and father. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, breastfeeding, smut, emotional instability from hormones etc WC: 3.4k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Gaelyn fussed at your hip, his chubby cheeks rosy from the fresh tears that he had spilled before the handmaids brought him to your tent. Your baby's cries had called to Aemond and shortly after Gaelyn was comforted in your arms your husband had arrived. 

Aemond was filthy. Mud smeared up his riding leathers like he had been wading in the muck and dried blood was splattered across his tunic. 

“Is he well?” Aemond asked as he stopped short of the clean rug that covered the forest floor where the camp had been set for Maelor’s name day celebration hunt. 

You nodded with a smile as you settled onto the chaise and began unlacing the front of your dress with one hand. Aemond made to step forward and help but you cocked an eyebrow as his dirty boots and he froze as you spoke, “Wash.”

He grinned hearing your voice, savouring every time you chose to vocalise your thoughts and you were certain you could insult him and he would still be happy. He sauntered into the adjacent tent where a bath full of cold water waited and you followed his steps to see his clothing disappear piece by piece. 

Gaelyn wriggled in your arms and you tore your eyes away from your husband to bare your breast. Your son wasted no time as he sought his nourishment and latched on with an ease that had not come naturally after his birth. 

There had been many long nights spent with the maesters trying to get him to feed without it bringing you to your knees with the pain that erupted each time he latched. You had felt like you were failing Gaelyn, and Aemond too, when the situation turned dire and he started to lose the precious weight he needed to survive. The maesters had talked about your body as if you weren’t there reading their lips. 

You shivered at the memory before the feeling of your milk dropping brought you back to the present and you watched Gaelyn’s mouth working to swallow the tide that flowed. The pain you had endured was worth it when you looked at your son who held the perfect balance of Aemond and you in his features. You would go through it all again in an instant.

A shadow pulled you away from Gaelyn’s violet eyes that were fluttering shut as he filled his little tummy to the brim and you found Aemond watching from the doorway with a towel slung low across his hips. “Don’t look at me that way, my love.”

It was hard not to when the drops of water running down the planes of his chest caught the light of the candles and reflected dozens of tiny flames, he looked like a god of fire. Longing grew in you with each passing second and you could not tear your eyes away from him. It had been months since you were intimate together but the trauma of Gaelyn’s birth and the tearing had left you fearful of trying to initiate sex. 

Aemond, being a sweet supportive husband, waited patiently. He would not pressure you but you could see an equal longing in his eyes and beneath the towel.

He made to step forward and you held your hand up. He froze and a look of dejection crossed his face that sent a pang of hurt in your chest. 

“Korolyn,” you called and the handmaid stepped into the tent with a curtsy. You held the sleeping Gaelyn out to her and she crossed the room to take your precious son for his nap only to stop as Aemond said something to her. You watched him follow so that he could press a gentle kiss to the tufts of white hair that peeked out of his bonnet before sending the maid on her way.

“I shall let you have your rest,” Aemond said as he tracked your steps over to the pallet bed that was hardly comfortable to sleep on in the wilderness. 

You shook your head and patted the empty space beside you before continuing to unlace the bodice of your dress. Aemond’s throat bounced with the thick swallow he took and his chest rose with a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

Your hands shook with your response. I want to try.

Aemond’s eye darkened as the pupil erased the pale blue of his iris and the towel was discarded with his long strides he took to erase the distance between you. Your chest swelled with the deep breath you took at the sight of his naked body in all its glory, especially the size of cock as it swelled even larger with the invitation. 

A slight tremor shivered through you and not all of it was in anticipation. Aemond was huge, and the grand maester had repaired the tears in your skin with stitches that had been pulled tight. 

“I will be gentle, my love,” Aemond said he saw both the apprehension and the bravery in your eyes. “We can stop at any point, just tap my shoulder.”

You relaxed back into the bedding as his large hands began to massage their way up your legs. The tension in your body was evaporating with each press of his thumb along your muscles and soon you were exhaling deeply with contentment. 

Aemond’s eye darted up to you when he reached your thighs and your sharp intake brought a smile of pride to his face before lowering himself onto his stomach so he could trail his hands with soft kisses. You could feel his lips moving against your skin but they were hidden between your legs and you were left to daydream of what he could say. 

Your husband shifted closer and you felt his breath on the sensitive skin where you needed him most before it was his tongue. The wicked kiss sent fire streaking across your skin and your back arched off the bed as his tongue lashed through your folds and over your clit. The pleasure mounted when he eased one finger in, gently preparing you for a second, before curling them over the spot that had you seeing stars.

“Aemond,” you called, a plea for more. But your voice had the opposite effect and he broke away to look up in wonder. Your throat rumbled at the loss of his touch and your fingers laced into the damp strands of his hair to guide him back where he was. “Please.”

His eye narrowed with determination and he buried himself back between your legs to ravish you like a starving man. Perhaps he had been starved of your touch while your body recovered. On the heels of that thought came with a touch of guilt that ebbed away the pleasure that had been building. 

A wave of frustration built where the climax had been and with each passing moment the bliss grew further from reach. 

Aemond’s ministrations slowed as he felt the tension in your body once again and his eyebrows drew together in confusion as tears welled in your eyes. “Did I hurt you?” You shook your head but it dislodged the tears and he sat up to gather your shaking form in his arms. 

I don’t know what is wrong with me. You weren’t sure he would be able to understand the signs with how badly your hands were shaking.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Aemond assured you as he tipped your chin back to talk to you. 

“I want you,” you said aloud. You have waited so long.

“I waited my whole life for you, Y/N. I can wait until you are ready, no matter how long.” 

I am ready, in here, you pointed to your heart before your shoulders slumped. But I can’t stop, you tapped your temple as you realised you hadn’t made a sign for it yet. 

“Thinking?” Aemond offered at the perplexion on your face and you nodded. “What are you thinking about?”

You swept your hands in front of you, opening them palm up. Everything.

You looked at the carved horse on the floor, a present Aemond had bought for Gaelyn. I fear I am a bad mother, and a terrible wife who cannot perform her duty to her husband. 

“You are neither of those things,” he disputed and he laid you back on the bed and hovered over your body. “The only duty we have is to uphold the sacred vows we promised. To love and cherish each other, even when our souls are no longer earthly bound.”

Your mood was a pendulum swinging wildly as your confession and his sweet words eased the lingering guilt and instead sent desire flooding through you. 

You followed your instinct and shifted in his embrace to straddle him, lacing your fingers in his hair so you could pull him closer and show him how much his words affected you with a searing kiss. Slowly, your hips began to rock against him, rolling the head of cock through your folds, testing your body with each stroke that dipped deeper within you. 

Aemond’s head fell back, lips parted and eye fluttering shut as you lowered yourself down his length and stilled as you adjusted to his size like it was the first time laying with him all over again. 

His lips moved as his hands landed on your hips and his fingers dug in but the only word you caught was, ‘tight’.

Your confidence grew when his hands roamed your changed body, his palms cupping your breasts that had swelled with milk before dancing preciously over the stretch marks he had kissed as they appeared during those last months of pregnancy. 

The fear and guilt seemed silly in hindsight. This was Aemond, your devoted husband. His love was neither finite nor conditional. 

“I love you,” you said as an apology, as an oath and as a reminder before giving you both the pleasure that was long overdue.

You pushed Aemond onto his back and planted your hands on his chest as you rode him until your heart tried to escape your chest and your legs quaked around his hips. Stars danced in your vision before you were caged in strong arms and Aemond rolled with you in his embrace. 

The air rushed from your lungs at the change in position and you felt him reach a new depth with each thrust. Your nails raked his back as you gripped him tightly and rocked wantonly against him, meeting each of his thrusts with your own in desperate need of more.

Aemond’s smirk grew as he licked his thumb with a long lash of his wet tongue before reaching between your bodies and pressing the pad to your clit. Darkness overcame you when you clenched your eyes shut and erupted at the circles he danced around the bundle of nerves. 

You forced your eyes to open when you felt Aemond’s rhythm falter and his lips pressed in a tight line as he lost himself to the nirvana he found with your release. 

The reassuring weight of his spent body draped over yours had been sorely missed and you enclosed him in your arms to bask in the moment while it lasted. All too soon he rolled off to he curl up behind you, his muscles more relaxed than you had seen them in months. He released more than just his seed when he came but the stresses you hadn’t known he was grappling with too. 

Maelor’s celebration was in full swing as the rest of the hunting party returned and the camp took a lively turn. Musicians played flutes and lyres in the corner of the royal tent and you smiled as your niece and nephews danced together in the centre of the room. 

Your smile only brightened as you spotted Gaelyn in Alicent’s arms, gently swaying him with the same timed movements of the other dancers. 

“He woke not long ago,” Alicent said when you reached her. Her eyes followed the curve of Aemond’s arm around your waist and smiled to herself. “I thought you would appreciate the alone time.”

“Thank you,” you said as you dipped your head, unable to face your mother-in-law and the knowing look in her eyes.

Aemond had no qualms about it as he kissed her cheek and said his own thank you before taking Gaelyn into his own arms. 

A few of the lords snickered and stared as Aemond spoke to Gaelyn while gently rocking him but your husband ignored them all, too caught up in the story of his hunt to care what others thought. Aemond had continually surprised you with how involved he had been with Gaelyn’s care, waking up in the night to comfort him and changing his messy diapers. From what the married maids had said, fathers tended to avoid their children until they could engage in conversation or ale. 

Warm fingers delicately tapped your shoulder, stealing your attention away from the boys, and you were already smiling as you turned to greet your sister-in-law. 

Helaena grew more beautiful with each passing season and the golden threaded dress she wore matched the strands of gold woven into the braids in her hair. “Dance with me, sister,” she said as she took your hands and began to drag you towards her children. Your feet refused to move as your arms moved away from you but with a strong tug that surprised you, you stumbled forward. 

If it were anyone other than the Queen, the dance would have been deemed inappropriate as she placed a hand on your waist and tapped to the tempo for you to follow. You took some tentative steps, that you had seen done at countless feasts, before daring to look up and over Helaena’s shoulder to see the pride radiating from your husband. 

“My turn, dear sister,” Aemond interrupted, taking her hand off your waist to replace it with his own. “I assume she has been giving you lessons once more?”

It was difficult to concentrate as his hand tapped the beat while it slowly slipped down to your waist to your hip and you stumbled losing count of your steps. He offered an apologetic smile as he lifted his hand back up but the darker look in his eye told you he knew exactly the effect he had on you. 

Aemond’s fingers came to rest as the dance came to an end and he raised your hand to his lips to kiss the ring that rested on your finger, a small dragon engraved on the ridge of the band.

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.” Aemond laced his fingers with yours and led the way back to his mother who was cradling Gaelyn once again. You could see he was speaking to her but from his side it was hard to make out what they were discussing, but she nodded with whatever it was he asked. 

“Let’s go,” he said as he made for the tent flaps.

“Where?” Aemond pulled you out into the open air where night had set in and the stars illuminated the sky with their shimmering winks. Walking backwards, he graced you with a smile that flipped your stomach. “For a ride.”

Aemond loved gliding on Vhagar’s back, he said he enjoyed the silence of the skies. The very thing that you had too much of was what he craved. The irony was not lost on you.

It had been many months since you had flown with Aemond. No matter how he tried to assure you it was safe to fly while pregnant you could not bring yourself to make the long climb up Vhagar’s netting to the saddle. But you had missed it. 

There was something very intimate about sitting in the saddle with Aemond pressed to your back as he held the reins around your waist. Reading lips was difficult without twisting around so you just trusted that Aemond would keep you safe without having to communicate. It was an experience you could never share with anyone else, or ever want to.

Vhagar flew above the tree tops, climbing higher and higher into the night until you felt like you could reach out and touch the stars around you. It was peaceful despite the frigid air that invaded the layers of your dress and the cloak Aemond had draped over your shoulders before commanding his dragon to the skies.

It was almost like the wind blew away all the intrusive thoughts that had settled like cobwebs in your head.

Leaning back, you cosied into Aemond’s arms and rested your head on his shoulder while you admired his profile. His eye reflected the stars when he looked down at you and the length of his jawline softened when his lips curled up into a carefree smile that warmed your insides. 

If only the moon were full, then you would have been able to find an empty page in your book and draw the milky light as it hit Aemond. Unfortunately you just had to rely on the memory of the picturesque sight and recall it again when you had candlelight. 

All too soon Aemond pulled at the reins and Vhagar began to bank into a turn, setting her course for the campfires in the distance and the other dragons in the rolling fields. The fresh air had been as healing as the physical reunion with Aemond and you knew that going back to the Red Keep in the morning would be with a new sense of self, one that felt lighter and freer that the one that had left.

“Thank you,” you said after your shoes touched soil and Aemond released the grip on your waist from helping you off the last step in the netting. “I needed that.”

“You never have to thank me,” he reminded you for the umpteenth time before offering his elbow for the short walk back to camp. “Shall we?”

You winced as you remembered that it had been early evening when Gaelyn’s last fed and the thought left your breasts aching with their fullness. Slipping an arm through the crook of his, you nodded and used your free hand to massage the hard lumps through the bodice of the dress. 

Aemond didn’t have to say one word but you saw the thought cross his mind and wagged a finger at him. “Not yours.”

A playful pout curved his lips down before he placed his palm over his chest arguing the fact they belonged to him. The argument continued all the way to the royal tent where Gaelyn awaited. 

As if scenting his nourishment was arriving, your son began to fuss from across the room and his tiny fingers began to grab anything he could. Alicent’s lips parted with surprise or pain when Gaelyn found her long dark tresses and tangled his hand in them with a tug.

Aemond helped to untangle the mess as he apologised to his mother who waved it off with a reminder that her firstborn had been much the same - followed by a pointed look in King Aegon’s direction.

“Goodnight, my darling,” Alicent said before kissing your cheek. “It is delightful to see you looking refreshed.” She noticed your smile fade and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Being a mother is the hardest job there is, but you are doing wonderfully, my dear.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and threw your arms around the woman who had become more of a mother to you than your birth one was. Alicent returned the embrace just as strongly before pulling away and nodding in Aemond’s direction where he grappled to hold his son who wriggled more than an eel to reach for you. 

“I don’t speak babe but I think he wants his supper,” Aemond said with a wry smile before his eye patch was stolen and tossed away. “That was uncalled for, my sweet boy.”

You picked up the patch and shoved it into your pocket before taking Gaelyn from Aemond, smirking as he instantly settled in your arms for the quick journey to your private tent. Your babe could hardly wait for you to bare your breast for him and an overeager latch caught your skin with a flash of pain before you could get him onto the nipple. 

The relief of the weight in your breasts lessening was heaven and you knew you made a sound of satisfaction when Aemond’s head darted your way from where he turned down the bed. Needing to remind you, he pointed his finger at your breasts before placing his palm on his chest, reigniting his argument. Those are mine.

Taglist: @arcielee , @sheetalkalkhandey , @hydrationqueensworld , @matt-murdick , @avis15 , @caught-in-the-afterglow

[theflowergothic]

Kelly Piquet Master Timeline - Amendment 1 (Some things I missed the first time around)

(Masterlist)

Hey y'all! Welcome to the first amendment for the Kelly timeline! In these amendments, I will be adding things that happened during already-published parts of the timeline, but did not add before for a variety of reasons (not knowing about it, not having proof for it before, etc).

Sorry this took a bit to release. I've been dealing with a bit of irl stuff this past week that took my attention away from working on Max/Kelly things aside from updates to the timeline. In fact, you might have seen me crack on Twitter over it! Yay!

By the way, you may notice some repeats from the official timeline. Those are events that I did cover in the original, but with new information/context that I initially missed.

Let's go!

As always, you can find the full timeline here.

A new person has entered the grid!

Christiano “Tuka” Rocha: A former Brazilian race car driver Kelly considers her first love. The two would remain in touch until his tragic death in a plane crash in 2019.

1999

March-October, 1999: The 1999 F1 season. Jos serves as a test driver for the Honda Formula 1 Project.

2000

Unknown dates, 2000:

Kelly and Tuka meet. She is most likely 11 and he is most likely 18.

2002

Unknown dates, 2002:

Tuka visits Kelly and her family while she is visiting France. She is most likely 13 and he is most likely 20. (Archive)

2004

May, 2004: The Jordan racing team considers Jos as a replacement driver for an underperforming Giorgio Pantano. But, a test drive is canceled after he discovers he is too big to fit in the car.

2012

November 10-11, 2012: Max has a series of flirty/amorous exchanges with former world karting champion Laura Tillett on Twitter. She is 21 and he is 15. (Archive) 

December 7-10, 2012: Max has more flirty exchanges with Laura Tillett on Twitter. She is still 21 and he is still 15.

2015

September 30, 2015: Max turns 18. He spends the day obtaining his road driving license. He would move to Monaco shortly afterwards. (Archive 1, 2)

Mikaela also posts on Twitter to celebrate Max’s birthday, calling him her “love”. (Archive)

2016

December, 2016: Kelly leaves her job at Formula E. Officially, she claims she resigned because of burnout, mentioning she “was literally on a plane every week” to a new destination. But, unconfirmed rumors claim she was fired for sleeping with a married man. (Archive)

2018

September 14, 2018:  Kelly likes an Instagram post by Victoria. This would be her first of many likes on Victoria’s Instagram.

September 23, 2018: Victoria likes an Instagram post by Kelly. This would be her first of many likes on Kelly’s Instagram.

September 30, 2018: Max turns 21. Lando makes an Instagram post wishing him a happy birthday. It is not liked by Max, but it is liked by Kelly.

October, 2018: Kelly likes several more of Lando’s Instagram posts.

Late October-Early November, 2018: Kelly and Daniil’s daughter is conceived.

November 13, 2018: Lando makes an Instagram post celebrating his 19th birthday. It would be liked by Kelly.

2019

January 8, 2019: Lando likes an Instagram post by Kelly. This would turn out to be one of several posts he would like on her account throughout 2019 and 2020, including a post about breastfeeding.

March 17, 2019: Lando makes his F1 debut at the 2019 Australian Grand Prix, driving for McLaren. He would finish in 12th place. At this point, he is 19 years old. (Archive)

On the same day, Victoria likes a post by Kelly. She would proceed to like several more posts on Kelly’s account throughout her pregnancy, with Sophie doing the same on some of the same posts.

November 14, 2019: Tuka is seriously injured in an airplane crash near Bahia, Brazil. (Archive)

November 17, 2019: Tuka succumbs to his injuries sustained in the plane crash at the age of 36. He is memorialized as a hero for trying to save the lives of others  in the same crash. (Archive)

November 19, 2019: Kelly makes a memorial post for Tuka on Instagram, calling him her “first love” and mentioning he made her “feel like the most special girl in the world” and “feel very special feelings”. (Archive)

December 4, 2019:  Daniil makes an Instagram post about the end of the F1 season. Kelly likes the post. It would turn out to be her last like on his account.

December 6, 2019 (Most likely): Kelly and Daniil end their relationship. While Kelly makes a since-deleted Instagram post implying she broke up with Daniil, varioussources claim it was Daniil who broke up with Kelly for a variety of reasons.

2020

Unknown dates, 2020:

Max and Dilara break up. Despite that, Victoria, Sophie, and Jos continue to follow her on Instagram. Daniil would also follow her at a later date.

January 31, 2020: Kelly likes another Instagram post by Max. This would turn out to be one of several posts she would like on his account throughout 2020.

2021

July 16-18, 2021: The 2021 British Grand Prix. During the first lap, Lewis attempts to overtake Max, resulting in the latter retiring and going to the hospital after a collision. Max would be released that same day.. Lewis receives a 10-second penalty, but ultimately wins the race. (Archive)

Initial reports would say Max was unharmed in the collision. But, in subsequent interviews, Max would admit he felt the after-effects of it in races, including blurred vision. (Archive 1, 2)

September 3-5, 2021: The 2021 Dutch Grand Prix. Max achieves poll position and finishes first, starting a three-year winning streak at the race. (Archive)

Kelly leaves the race altogether after qualifying, and Max spends a night at his motorhome on the track. According to speculation, Kelly and Jos had a fight over her sharing photos in his residence. Jos unfollows Kelly on Instagram.

2023

Unknown dates, 2023:

An anonymous Tumblr user makes a summary of the rumors and scandals surrounding Kelly to that point. (Archive)

2024

June 21-23, 2024: The 2023 Spanish Grand Prix. Max starts in P2 and finishes first. This would turn out to be his last Grand Prix victory until November. (Archive)

June 28-30, 2024: The 2024 Austrian Grand Prix. Max finishes first in the Saturday sprint race. This would turn out to be his last victory in general until October. (Archive)

During the second half of the main race,  Lando makes multiple attempts to overtake Max. This culminates in a collision when the latter tries to block him. Lando would retire from the damage, and Max would place fifth. (Archive 1, 2) 

Of note is that while Kelly posted about Max’s pole positions and sprint win, she would not say anything about the results of the main race.

[nevernonline]

Hello, I was wondering if I could make a request for Seventeen 🥺🥺, how would he react to seeing you breastfeed your baby in front of him?🫣

hiii nonnie!! of course <3 I'm sorry this took a second keke. I was nervous to make it feel right, thank you sm for the rec!!

I just did coups-hoshi for now so it's not too long if you want some more lmk &lt;3

SVT's reactions to you seeing you breastfeeding and taking care of your child in front of them:

choi seungcheol:

he would melt immediately!! ik this man would be the biggest softie seeing his two loves enjoying themselves.

I can picture him catching his s/o off guard while they're casually resting as he comes home excited to see the two of them 😭

would come over to them without even saying hello verbally just giving a small kiss on each of their heads to join them sitting adjacent and watching with his little smile.

obvi the queen kkuma would come to enjoy being with her now larger family. (she is the light of MY life)

kkuma and baby cheol matching hair clips, when tbh?? (why can I write all day abt dad cheol idk??)

yoon jeonghan:

would be amazed he met someone who actually wanted to raise his child. not because he didn't think anyone would, just because he knows it has to be hard staying home while he works.

he would tend HAND AND FOOT while they take care of the baby, they worked hard so he would be working his ass off making them both so so happy.

constantly found giggling and buying the baby the cutest little gifts and playing with their sylvanian families families together.

seeing his s/o breastfeeding would def not be a surprise to him!! he'd be so happy that they just feel comfortable sharing the entire experience with him.

hong jisoo:

im so sorry shua as a dad would make me melt fr??

i can't even imagine the matching daddy x baby fits.

he'd sing softly to the baby while his s/o breastfeeds

Joshua def would make their s/o a killer ass playlist for while they feed just so the baby can have a chill time during feeding and so!! his s/o constantly thinks about them while they're doing so if he's not present.

hover dad <3 but in the best way!! knows he's busy so any little chance he can have to spend with his family he takes.

would be so excited about their child's first trip on a plane, probably to visit la and introduce them to the "LA Vibes"

100% best dad and husband a person could want.

wen junhui:

absolutely has read so many parenting books to understand how much goes into the process so he is always informed and not asking you too many questions if you're stressed.

when he saw you breastfeeding for the first time, he'd definitely be intrigued not in a seggsy way just in a genuine curiosity type of way.

he'd be really clingy asking you if you need his help for anything, pumping, diaper changing, etc.

above and beyond dad type like his s/o wouldn't even know what hit him.

him trying to teach your newborn his name >>>

playing you and your baby sweet piano medley's while plastering his cute smile all over the room.

def would enjoy sharing baby food

NEVER leaving your side, but in a helpful way, he'd def drop everything to be by your side like the best partner ever???

kwon soonyoung:

he's the mom 100%

I can picture him just literally going mush over the fact he has a child?? like??

would be tactile as hell to you while you breastfed, just crawling in the chair behind you to wrap his arms around you and his child, he has to be a part of it ALL.

showing everyone photos and videos 24/7 of the family he created. like he's so PROUD!!

compares his and his s/o's baby photos to see who their child looks like more and even if it isn't him, finds the smallest comparison to his features and gives them a nickname from birth based on that.

maybe a clumsy father at times but in the most endearing way.

makes choreography to cool baby songs and shows them off while his s/o feeds their baby for entertainment.

sings really soft and sweet love songs over a baby monitor.

[seekforwarmth]

hello and welcome to the first fic rec of 2024 featuring my favourite works from what i’ve read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Red Wine/Long Nights by lucky28 (G, 1.3k, strangers to lovers, infidelity, fluff) When Louis goes to surprise his boyfriend with an unexpected dinner date, he's nothing but excited. That is, until he runs into his boyfriend's boyfriend along the way.

໑ Abundance by @rockstarlwt28 (M, 1.7k, established relationship, breastfeeding, failure of conception, fluff) The Tomlinson-Styles' family are blessed with their own Christmas miracle, Tallulah Jay. A lifetime of happiness follows her birth, her mother, Louis and father, Harry are instilled with hope and an abundance of love to double their already blossoming marriage.

໑ make my wish come true by localopa / @voulezloux (NR, 2.4k, friends to lovers, flat mates, christmas, angst with happy ending) the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

໑ heaven in these sheets by @thepolourryexpress (E, 3.5k, established relationship, bunny hybrid louis, pwp, fluff) Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

໑ powerless (and i don't care) by localopa / @voulezloux (E, 4k, established relationship, canon, fluff, slight angst) everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. and louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls harry that.

໑ now you hang from my lips by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2 (E, 6k, red herring, implied cheating, read tags and author’s note) Louis goes out and finds exactly what, or rather who, he’s looking for at the hotel bar.

໑ You're like a Sponge (Abrasive and Colorful) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 6.5k, coworkers, university au, hate to love sort of) Louis's flirts look an awful lot like insults.

໑ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie (E, 19k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, truckers, secret identity, one night stands) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

໑ i feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years by puppyvirvinloui (spanish, NR, 22.8k, established relationship, marriage, sunshine/grumpy, trophy wife louis, pregnancy) Louis quiere un bebé, no está muy seguro de que Harry quiera lo mismo.

໑ sunshine (you temptress) by @petitommo (E, 26.8k, acquaintances, complicated relationships, age difference) Harry had everything he'd ever wanted in life. Well established, in love, and on the very precipice of the rest of his life, everything goes wrong. The road forwards is paved with difficult emotions, firm denial, and a complicated relationship to the strange teenager he'd snorted coke off of that one eventful night at the club.

໑ the mountain between us by happilylarry (NR, 31k, strangers to lovers, plane crash, surgeon harry, photographer louis, injuries, angst) Harry is a surgeon and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to perform a surgery in fourteen hours in Boston. Louis is a journalist and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to be married in ten hours. They decide to charter a private airplane to Denver, where they will get on their respective flights and part ways.

Or so they thought.

໑ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 32.7k, co-workers, advent fic, library au, christmas, fluff, humour) Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

໑ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (T, 34k, strangers to lovers, advent fic, coffee shop au, barista louis, baker harry, food, american au) Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words…and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

— rare pairs —

໑ for the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by localopa / @voulezloux (louis/zayn, M, 1.5k, exes with benefits, canon au, song fic) zayn and louis are exes. they still sleep together.

[amelmajrii]

“For a while I just had so much else going on, I didn’t have time to think or be concerned about my salaries from the club. I didn’t have any reason to think anything would go wrong.

Until I didn’t get my first paycheck. All that was deposited was just a small percentage from social security.”

“The coaches, including Sonia, had reassured me that they would help me and fight for me to get everything that I would need. But I was being asked — no, told — all sorts of things, like not to bring my baby with me on away trips. They said it was because it could really disturb the players on the bus or plane, if he cried the whole way. I shook my head and told them I’m not signing anything like that. This was while I was still breastfeeding, and he was so small and so dependent on me. If they wouldn’t budge on this, I couldn’t attend the away games. “

[ameliagiovanna0]

Chenford Week 2023 - Day 3: Something’s Missing Day (Incorrect Quotes)

When I Taste Tequila

Lucy comes home tipsy and has an interesting question for Tim.

Based on a tweet from @IncorrectRookie

AO3

1.1k words

Tim tried to distract himself. He wasn’t worried or concerned, just bored. Maybe a little antsy. He got used to spending his nights with Lucy, but she wanted to have a girls night. And he wasn’t about to beg her not to go, even though he desperately wanted to.

So, he waited. He changed into Lucy’s favorite pair of his sweats and propped himself up on the couch with Kojo and a beer. He was attempting to pay attention to the Rams game on the TV, but his mind was elsewhere.

Nearing halftime, he heard shuffling. Keys clanging together and against the wood of the door, hushed voices, a few giggles, and eventually a thud.

Kojo jumped down and started toward the door, tilting his head. Putting his beer down, Tim followed after him as the door swung open, “Tiiimmmyyy-“

“Hi, babe,” Tim said as he stared at the women in front of him, Lucy slumped against Angela’s side, trying to balance herself on one foot while trying to take off one of her shoes.

Lucy, having managed to get the shoe off, haphazardly tossed them in the direction of the shoe rack. She pulled her arm from around Angela’s shoulders - where she’d draped it in hopes of getting Lucy from the car to the house in one piece - and stumbled toward Tim. She wrapped herself around him, somewhat akin to an overly affectionate koala. He held her against his chest, her chin tilted up to look at him as her hands ran up and down the planes of his back under his shirt.

“Oo! Hi, Koj, I missed you!” Lucy squealed at the dog staring at her in utter confusion.

Tim managed to grab her before her body slumped to the floor to reach their fur baby. She drummed her fingers against his skin and continued to stare up at him.

“Ange?” he prodded, brushing the hair out of Lucy’s face.

“Tequila.”

“Ah.”

He looked down at the women pressed against him as she giggled at… him? Kojo? Tequila? He wasn’t sure, “Did you have fun?”

“Oo, yeah! We did trivia and then we did shots!”

“Shots, huh?”

“Mm hmm,” she giggled, twisting her fingers in the hem of his t-shirt, “Well, me and Nyla did. Angela was being boring.”

Angela shook her head, “Sometimes, I really hate breastfeeding.”

He nodded in response. At least they had a designated driver and didn’t have to bother with Uber.

“Thanks, Ange,” he said.

Even if Lucy was going to have a massive headache in the morning and he missed her like hell for the three and a half hours she was gone, he was glad she had fun and that Angela had her back. After previous experiences, Lucy became weary of bars and drinks and going out.

While Tim had known Angela for fifteen years, she and Lucy had only known each other for four. But the bond they formed in that time was something Tim would never take for granted. They trusted each other. Lucy trusted Angela to have her back, even if it was just to watch the bartender pour her drink or look after it while she went to the bathroom.

She saluted them with an amused smile before turning back toward the half open door and making her way back to her car.

“How many shots did you do?” Tim asked as he tried to maneuver her further into the house.

She stumbled over her own feet as he tried to aim her in the direction of their bedroom.

“Mm, like five…maybe? I had tequila. I like tequila.”

“I know you do,” he chuckled.

“Angela made me try mezcal too.”

“Did she now?”

“Did you know it’s made from worms? Where are we going?”

“It’s not made from worms, babe,” he replied, trying not to laugh at her alcohol induced childlike state.

“Yeah, there was a worm in the bottle,” she grumbled, an adorable pout on her lips.

“They put those in after it’s made. It’s just a gimmick.”

He managed to guide her far enough into the bedroom for her to flop on the bed, her hair falling in a halo against the comforter behind her head. Kojo followed after them, sniffing Lucy’s ankle, seemingly trying to make sure she was ok.

“Hiiii, puppers!” she squealed, rather unceremoniously starching the top of his head.

He bristled when her pinky finger inadvertently made contact with his cornea and trotted off to his bed in the corner of the room.

“It was kinda cute.”

“The worm?” He wasn’t sure if she was talking about Kojo or the worm. Knowing Lucy, especially tipsy Lucy, it could be either.

“Mm hmm… would you still love me if I was a worm?”

He chuckled from where he stood in front of her, his hand on his hips, taking her in, “Bold of you to assume there’s a universe where I wouldn’t love you.”

She sat up, making herself dizzy, “You do love me?”

He took a step forward, now desperately trying not to laugh, “Yes, I do. Luce, I’ve loved you for years. If that ring on your finger is any indication.”

Her eyes grew comically wide as she pulled her right hand out in front of her, searching for the ring he claimed was there.

“Other hand,” he encouraged.

Her other hand made its way into her field of vision, almost making her fall backward, having forgotten she was using it to support her weight.

“Oo, pretty!”

“I’m glad you think so,” Tim said, finally letting a half a laugh escape him.

“When did that get there?” Lucy asked, pulling her hand closer to her face to examine the sparkly object.

“Few months ago," he said, grabbing one of his sweatshirts from the dresser, “Come on. Time for bed.”

She tore her attention away from her ring long enough to look at Tim, “Are you coming too?”

“Yep, I’m coming too.”

“Good.”

“Come on,” he said, motioning for her to stand up.

She slowly, and rather ungracefully, stood up.

“Arms up,” Tim said tugging at the hem of her blouse.

She raised her arms and he pulled the fabric off her body. He popped the clasp on her bra and tossed both items to the floor, “Sit down.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, pouting at him, “I wanna sleep, Tim.”

“You can’t go to bed in jeans, Luce.”

He eventually freed her of the rest of her clothing and replaced it with his sweatshirt. He tucked her into the covers and crawled in behind her.

She plastered herself against his side, her head on his chest and her leg between his. He thought she was asleep until he heard her soft, somewhat slurred voice, “So you would still love me if I was a worm?”

[kaftan]

Yellowjackets x The Land of Silence by May Sarton. ID under the cut.

[ID: 14 screencaps from Yellowjackets, with a line from The Land of Silence edited over each one.

Image 1: "Time beats like a heart; we do not hear it" / Pit girl's blood draining into the snow. Image 2: "But we are nourished as by sleep after pain." / The yellowjackets walking off after having seemingly consumed pit girl's flesh. Image 3: "Death is so close to life that we can bear it." / Jackie dropping her heart necklace into Shauna's hand on the plane. Image 4: "The smallest veins drink time and breathe again." / Shauna smiling down at what she thinks is her breastfeeding baby. Image 5: "Now I am here in the land of silence," / An image of the wilderness: forest to the left, lake to the right. Image 6: "Of the near dove and the distant hills," / Van holding up Tai's hand in the lake as Tai looks down at her dirt-stained fingernails. Image 7: "I know that the surface is the essence," / The bloody-antlered deer, Lottie's first hallucination. Image 8: "No stripping down what is already bare," / The yellowjackets gathered in the attic as a blindfolded Shauna holds a knife on a string for the seance. Image 9: "No probing what is absolutely here." / Van holding the deck of cards as they prepare to draw for the first time. Image 10: "This is the land of bones and violent dreaming" / The yellowjackets laughing at the bacchanal as they begin to eat. Image 11: "Where heaven is woven in and out of hell" / Shauna and Akilah wrapping themselves around Travis during the doomcoming orgy. Image 12: "And each not essence but actual and near." / The queen card appearing in the adult timeline underneath a note that reads 'I am grateful for my friends.' The top of the text is cut off, so only 'for my friends' is visible. Image 13: "Even more than love we search for faith" / A collage of four screencaps: Lottie pricking her finger for the blood tea, Travis setting Javi's wooden figurine on the mantle, Tai pressing the deer bone into Shauna's hands, Lottie holding Laura Lee's cross necklace in a hallucination. Image 14: "Who in this high air must gasp for breath." / The yellowjackets face the cabin as it burns.

End ID]

[tomwambsmilk]

It’s always the most niche incomprehensible posts that get the tag suggestion. Tumblr will be quiet when I write meta but as soon as I want to post “Tom was breastfeeding Logan after every episode (it just wasn’t relevant to Kendall’s arc) and Tom’s milk nourished Logan’s assworms and made them strong enough to eat the unnamed cancer he said he had in the 4.02 deleted scene but he DIDNT breastfeed Logan after 4.02 bc Roman was there and called Tom ‘twin cities Tessie’ and Tom got embarrassed and so the worms were neglected and retaliated by stopping Logan’s heart on the plane” and Tumblr goes tags????? Add tags???? Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaase add tags so that we can spring this on every unsuspecting person browsing #tom wambsgans and #logan roy and #roman roy and #succession

[kaiyonohime]

Returned from America!

Holy fuck I am never flying ever again in economy. My legs are literally too long to sit straight on some planes. I can't do that, the pain of flying that many hours with my muscles tightening and no way to relax them? Oh fuck that.

Things learned: American Airlines decided my veggie meal meant vegan halal at some point. So that was a thing that happened. And I had the worst hummus of my life, it tasted like gasoline.

American Airlines remembered to load the baby meal! Except my baby refused to eat it. My husband tasted it and said it tasted bad. I tasted it, and it was rancid. And old. Thankfully I had baby crackers to hold the baby over until we got home. I'm not impressed with American Airlines, and won't be flying with them again if I can avoid it.

Narita airport is worse than Haneda. You have to leave security to go to different buildings and terminals. Security is fast, but it's annoying. They have a bus between terminals, but there's no room for luggage carts. So we walked the ten minutes. Narita doesn't have the baby stroller luggage carts. I'm thinking whoever designed Haneda had traveled with a baby, because that airport is baby friendly in ways no other airport is.

Customs in Japan gave no fucks once they saw me write my address in Japan. So at least I didn't have to open my luggage.

Jetstar Japan is still the worst airline ever. No car seats allowed. Took twenty minutes to check in the luggage. They kept asking what my return address in the US was, and almost refused to believe that I lived in Japan. Fuck them, racist assholes.

Baby is jet lagged to all hell, I have a head cold and can't take meds because they all say so not use if breastfeeding.

But I'm happy to be home, in my own bed, with clean clothes, and my own house to cook snacks and tea in.

Thank fuck I bought a shit ton of tea to bring back.

Unfortunately, because of all the books, I could not bring back as many snacks as I wanted. Oh well, yay books!