#but i hope this little nut is the one that stays even if it means AUs and stuff

[bravewolfvesperia]

/ WHOAAAA wut im a big kid now

it doesn't feel like it's been a whole year... but no it totally checks out bc i very much remember this being around when i made my blog last year...

whoaaaaaaaaaaa........

[gutsby]

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,�� he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 4:

Yandere Bully Interrupts Your "Date"

Part 0 │ Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Jonathan was a nice guy, you figured.

The quarterback of the football team was always all smiles, and he seemed to never treat you differently despite being way higher up on the social ladder. Therefore, you sort of liked to tutor him. Not only did it feel like you were sometimes hanging out with a close friend, but it also made you feel good deep down that a guy was paying you some attention... even if it was just for school. But still.

And plus, you figured that he could potentially protect you from Blake.

Seriously, it was crystal clear that Jonathan lived in the gym after school, given his large muscles and athletic prowess.

Blake is muscular too, but he tends to hide his bulk underneath his leather jacket.

But still!

You tried your best to force your mind away from Blake as you and Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of a local diner. It was a small place where the two of you could be uninterrupted during your study session. It was one of the few local spots where Jonathan would treat you as payment for tutoring him, and you'd always order something sweet and tasty!

The two of you took your seats at one of the booths near the back, and your eyes stayed glued to the door. The constant fear of Blake finding you kept you on edge, and you found it hard to stay present with your brain always straying back to the bully.

You mentally berated yourself, annoyed that you kept thinking about Blake.

He'd claimed you as his, and you'd gotten three strikes.

Both of those spelt trouble in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to avoid the guy. Therefore, you figured that being away from school with someone big who could protect you was the best course of action.

Jonathan and you placed your orders and tried to start the tutoring session, but it was close to impossible for you to get your nerves settled.

"Is something on your mind?" the jock finally asked when he'd noticed you staring nervously at the door for the millionth time.

"O-oh!" you mumbled, jerking out of your panicked daze. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little... distracted." You sheepishly smiled at the end of your statement, hoping that the jock wouldn't catch onto you inadvertently using him as protection.

Jonathan pursed his lips into a thin line, deep in thought. "So," he slowly asked, shrugging his broad shoulders, "is it Blake?"

You jerked back in your seat, shocked. "Wh-what do you mean?" you stuttered, trying your best to force an innocent smile onto your face.

Jonathan scrunched up his face in confusion. "Oh, my bad," he muttered. "I just thought that you two were having couple problems."

"'Couple problems'?" you repeated.

Jonathan shrugged again. "Well, yeah," he grunted. "I mean, by the way Blake talks about you, I thought the two of you were dating..."

"The way he talks about me?" you repeated again, feeling yourself go pale at the words you heard.

Never in your life would you have ever expected Blake to talk about you in any sort of positive manner. You always tried to avoid him like the plague, hence you'd preferred if he didn't know that you existed. But if he were to talk about you, you half-expected him to curse your name and call you the scum of the earth given how badly he's beaten people up all around you.

Thinking about it, there were several of Blake's victims you knew personally:

Kyle, the bully who's stolen your lunch money back in the sixth grade. He'd gotten his face beaten to a pulp, causing his nose to be a little crooked now.

Tristan, the guy who'd called you ugly on picture day. Blake had based his face so hard that his front teeth had been knocked out, totally ruining his picture.

Cesar, the douche who'd smashed your science project to smithereens for a YouTube prank. Well, Blake had filmed himself stomping him in the nuts, posting it to Cesar's now defunct account.

Wait...

"Wh-what has Blake said... about me?" you asked, feeling your heart fall to the floor as you thought everything over. It all had to be a coincidence, right?

The waitress delivered your food, distracting the jock for a second as he began to eat his fries. "Oh, um, he says lots of things about you," he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

That didn't really help.

"Like what?" you pressed.

The jock took a loud gulp of his soda. "Well, he says that he--"

He was cut off by the loud slamming of the front door. The both of you were altered to the booming noise, making you both flinch as you turned to see none other than Blake enter the tiny diner.

The bully's eyes scanned the area before landing on you, narrowing in your direction.

Uh-oh...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

I'm sorry about the lack of tagging people! I'm forever and always appreciative of everyone's interest in this story. Unfortunately, I just can't tag everyone at the moment. I apologize and hope you all understand!

[tuesdayiminlove]

happy disaster

rockstar!eddie x fem!waitress!reader (imperfect for you universe)

summary: how you two meet

author's note: an ask about how they met came earlier today and i couldn't help myself lol. not proofread sorry! also this could be read as a standalone! but u can read the og part here! hope u guys enjoy lmk what yall think xoxo

word count: 3.1k

You’ve had your fair share of jobs throughout the last few years, trying to make ends meet while also being a consumer of the various cute things you see when you’re at the mall with your friends. One time (and this may have been one of the more miserable experiences), you worked as a receptionist for an auto shop (get it now?)).

Needless to say, you were at the bottom of the hierarchy at that whole joint. When you weren’t answering calls and taking hyperspecific notes to not confuse the actual mechanics, you were practically shunned from the moment you stepped up from your seat and onto the street to eat your lunch at the bench outside. And whenever your lips did part to make even the simplest of comments, the men either laughed at you or made you feel stupid (“You guys hired me! Clearly I’m not a fucking idiot!” you dreamt of saying, but you were just never one for the dramatics and confrontation of it all).

And, the worst part, on days you couldn’t go into work, none of the other receptionists would switch with you.

(“Sorry, babe, I just can’t,” you remember Joey Warner staying after taking a drag of his cig, coughing mere seconds later from not exhaling immediately. You wanted to take the cigarette between your fingers, toss it down, and squish it with your shoes. You really needed to pick up your brother from school, and no one at the shop is ever up Joey’s ass since he’s a guy.

“Oh. It’s alright.” You curse yourself and your lack of ever wanting conflict, because you’re more than positive that this boy deserves a beating for not taking the reins for an hour just so that your poor baby brother won’t have to wait on the cold sidewalk for your mom, who is forty minutes late.

You walk back into the shop without another word.)

So. yeah, call this mechanic memory useless, but now it's clear that your jobs have been absolute dog shit in the past.

But being a waitress at Carly’s Diner, in comparison, takes the cake in the coworker camaraderie contest.

Like, now, you’re enjoying your break with Carrie, splitting half a cupcake that Jim managed to slip into your guys’ hands when he was pulling the fresh desserts from the oven. You two have turns at it, taking nimble bites from the vanilla confection and wiping rainbow sprinkles off your uniform in the process. Your nose blends in the smell of the cupcake and Carrie’s sweet perfume, leaving a little bubble where you can hardly tell what the boys in the kitchen are whipping up right now.

Judy passes through the doors in a haste, heaving before setting her eyes on you two. The notepad in her hands is crumpled up and her hair looks all over the place, eyes bewildered as she stalks towards you and Carrie, a complan ready to spill from her red lips. 

“This fucking couple on table three is driving me nuts! Nuts!” She slumps her back against the wall and swipes a piece of frosting off the cupcake before sticking it in her mouth, sighing in relief.

“Hey,” Carrie swats Judy’s hand, “watch the cupcake!” She places it behind her back possessively.

Carrie is nearly six months pregnant and craving every sweet treat Jim has to offer in between tables and shifts. It’s a miracle that she let you split the dessert with her just now, “And table three, you said?”

Judy ignores her earlier words and nods. “I swear to God, I don’t understand your goddamn generation and why you heaps are so fucking rude. I can't do this.”

“Don’t group us with those weirdos,” says Carrie. “And I’d like to see them be rude to a pregnant woman. Protect this,” she hands you the cupcake carefully, looking at you in the eyes with intent, “and I mean it.”

Her voice is so determined, you decide that you don’t want your fair share of bites anymore. You nod dutifully.

“I got this, Jude.” She swipes the notepad from the older woman’s hands.

And with that, Carrie is kicking herself off the wall and out of the kitchen, into the main part of the diner. You silently pray for the couple that now has to deal with a moody and pregnant Carrie. 

See? Now, this is what you mean! No mechanic or receptionist at Billy’s Auto Parts will ever be willing to face an alleged-annoying couple for their coworker. Sometimes, waitressing can take the light and happiness out of you once you’re clocked out, but at least you’re surrounded by the half-decent people in your town.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Judy calls out with a wicked laugh. “Gotta love that girl… hey can I have a bite?”

You frown, knowing you’re already unable to say no when Judy is stressed and you know for sure that the confection in your hand is enough to sweeten even the most stressed—Jim just has that magic to him. “Yeah, but don’t make the dent obvious.”

You think you’re gonna spend the rest of your break with Judy, hiding in between the two walls in the corner of the kitchen until Carrie comes back. You lick a small sprinkle off the cupcake, ready to ask the woman if her daughter won the spelling bee that she’s been freaking out over all week, when the office door swings open and Lenny’s head peeks out, eyes going to the first two waitresses that he can spot.

“Hey!” he shouts yours and Judy’s last names to steal the attention. “Can one of you guys go out and get Evan? Her daughter’s principal is on the phone.” He wipes his sweat-stained brow and doesn’t wait for a response. “Thanks,”

You and Judy look back at each other. And immediately you know that you’re not going to make Judy be the one.

“I got it,” you say with a soft smile. “... You’re gonna eat the rest of this are you?”

She laughs and swipes the cupcake. “For you, my love, I wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you.”

You blow her a kiss, already making your way to the double doors of the kitchen, straightening out your ponytail and getting your waitressing voice ready (patient and respectful, garnering the best tips you can try to get). Your eyes give one swipe across the diner, catching Carrie’s eye as she talks to the couple sitting down beneath her, holding her precious bump to make a show of it. She gives you a sly wink and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

Afternoon rush makes it hard to spot Evan at first. His smaller stature makes it even harder to spot him in the crowd, but your eyes eventually zone in on him smiling at customer that is blocked by a family getting up to leave. You smile upon finding him and make your way to the table.

As you get closer, you finally notice who Evan is speaking two, and your brows pinch quizzically. The man is hunched, looking over the menu with sunglasses adorning his face despite his table not even facing the sun. His jet black curls curve around the lines of his face, making his features harder to notice. It almost reminds you of the movies you watch late at night when you’re munching on diner leftovers on your couch, the runaway criminal stopping for a bite to eat while trying to flee the state. 

“Evan,” you say softly, not wanting to draw attention to yourself but you know it's already bound to happen since you’re switching places with him. “Lenny’s got your daughter’s school on the phone. They’re asking for you.”

The man’s eyes widen. “Great,” he mutters, “What do you think it is this time?” “I hope she said ‘fuck you’ to that little pipsqueak again,” you joke, seeing the anxiety in Evan’s eyes at not knowing why he’s receiving a call during work. You remember the first time he got called to his daughter’s school from work due to her cursing out an older boy: the entire kitchen was laughing—Evan included—as they all wished him good luck with that meeting. “Can’t be worse than that.”

He sighed, turning back to the customer, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m going to hand you off to her for a bit.” He says your name to further introduce you two. "Thank you for your patience.”

And for the first time up close, you look at the sunglassed man and smile. Perfect teeth flash at you, mildly astonishing you at how cute he looked when he did so. It’s not abnormal for you to find a customer attractive (it’s human, we’re human), but you don’t think a smile has ever made you secretly stop you from breathing for a second. 

Flustered, you’re clumsy as you and Evan switch spots. He pats your shoulder one last time, muttering a thank you as he rushes to the back. You follow his movements and frown for a split second and forget your task at hand. You hope his daughter is okay. You hope the kitchen will be laughing in t-minus three minutes over the fact that little baby-Evan gained a new curse word under her belt.

“Sorry,” you say, looking back at the man. You find him looking directly at you, knowing only because of how his head is positioned. His sunglasses are too tinted to even see a little beneath. “Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

“Oh—uh, yeah,” he stammers, before clearing his throat and offering a crooked smile. “Coffee, please. Milk and two sugars.”

Your handwriting matches the pace as he speaks. You hold a smile on your face to keep up pleasantries. “And have you decided what you would like to eat?”

“Not yet,” he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the menu. “Kind of hard to focus.” There’s a pause before he adds, a little quieter, “The menu’s got a lot of… options.”

You raise an eyebrow, tucking your notepad in the small pocket of your apron. You turn your head to see if anyone else is making coffee right now. You see Carrie there, and silently celebrate when she’s already staring at you. “All good. I’ll get your coffee ready and be right back–”

“—Wait.”

Your brows pinch, confused. “Yes?” His hand rubs the back of his neck, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “I was just, um… wondering if you had a favorite on the menu? Like… if there’s something you always recommend. Or—” He hesitates again, “Or like your favorite?”

You don’t know why he's so flustered. You don’t know why it makes you flustered. For a beat, you just look at him. Is he… trying to flirt with me? The thought isn’t unwelcome, but you certainly weren’t expecting it, or really believing it just yet. You tilt your head, trying your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Well,” you say eventually, “We have an all day breakfast, and that’s my favorite part of the menu, and I get it a lot. It’s on the next page.”

You wait for him to turn the menu, but he continues to stare back up at you, mouth agape.

“... Is that something you’re interested in?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” he replies immediately. And then, more composed, “Yeah, I can be in the mood for breakfast.” He finally flips the page, and his head tilts up to yours fleetingly.

“Great! Our cook, Jim, makes the best strawberry and white chocolate pancakes, so that’s what I would recommend from the breakfast menu.”

His lips tug into a small, bashful smile. “Sounds perfect. I’ll take that.”

“Perfect!” you grin, scribbling his order onto your notepad. “I’ll take this to the kitchen, and have your coffee ready soon!” You flash him one more look before retreating back towards the kitchen. You finally get to look back at Carrie, who is still looking at you, this time arms crossed.

“How was the couple?” you ask when you’re about to pass her.

“Annoyed them enough to leave.” She grabs your wrist, and you just dodge the yelp that wants to escape your lips. “Do you know who you were just talking to?”

You freeze. Her grip is firm, her expression serious enough to make you hesitate. Your gaze darts briefly toward the dining area, but you stop yourself from looking back at him. The last thing you want to do is risk being caught gawking.

“I... no?” you whisper, unsure of how to answer. But even as you say it, you feel a subtle heat creeping up your neck. The weight of eyes on your back makes your skin prickle, as if the mystery man somehow knows he’s the topic of conversation.

“Why don’t you go check the newspaper in the locker room and get back to me, yeah?” she finally lets her grip go, smirking like she knows something you don’t.

Carrie's words linger repeatedly in your brain as you hesitantly allow yourself to drop off the man’s order, and then to go see whether or not you’re serving a serial killer. 

You slip the stripped paper from your notepad to Colin’s hands. “Table thirteen,” you say in passing as you make the rest of the way to the locker room, not even Judy’s cheerful wave as she smiles with a cupcake still in her hand can stop you from the mission you have decided to go on.

Upon entering the locker room, you gaze zeroes in newspaper lying flat on the bench, its closed pages teasing you with potential revelations about your current customer. You hesitantly flip it over as you come face-to-face with the front headline 

HIT AND DIP: ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON LEAVES IN HASTE AFTER CHICAGO SHOW 

Your eyes widen as they lock onto the grainy photo accompanying the article. There’s no mistaking it. The guy at table thirteen. Eddie Munson. Rockstar. Your customer. 

For the first time, you finally see his eyes. But instead of him taking his sunglasses off to reveal his brown hues, you see them straight on in the form of a camera flashing and printing onto the paper right in front of you. He looks borderline pissed as he’s gripping his guitar and shooing the paparazzi in the background away, the picture managing to catch the split-second that his eyes meet with the camera.

“He’s hot.”

You jump, clutching the newspaper to your chest as you turn to meet eyes with Judy casually leaning over your shoulder with a grin.

“Judy!” you hiss, sighing in relief. 

“What?” she says plainly, “He is.”

“He is also currently Evan’s customer on table thirteen that I now have to serve.”

Judy’s pupil’s dilate. “Oh shit.”

You want to make a joking comment, calling Judy a cougar, but you’re interrupted by Carrie peeking her head in through the door. She looks down at the newspaper in your hands, and then back to your eyes. “Told you,” she says, her smirk from earlier still on her face.

Before you can respond annoyingly, Jim’s voice blares through the back. “Order up!” he shouts. “Waffles for thirteen!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of its sockets.

“Jesus, do you ever slow down?” Carrie yells out the door.

They hear Jim’s “No!” and fan out back into the kitchen.

“Good luck, my love,” sings Judy.

“Can you ask for an autograph?” asks Carrie. She motions to her belly and gives it a soft pat. “She’ll think I’m real cool!” 

“Ha, ha,” you roll your eyes, already holding the order as you kick the double doors open, passing back into the diner. You try your best to calm your heart as you pour coffee into the kettle, taking sugar from the side of the counter and putting two teaspoons into the mug. You feel eyes on you the entire time, and you don’t need to look up to know whose covered eyes they belong to. 

It’s not every day that you get to serve a goddamn celebrity, so she thinks that everyone should give her a break (she’s specifically talking to her heart—it needs to stop beating so rapidly, making her brain think something is wrong).

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hold the plate on one hand, and the mug on the other. “Just a customer,” you whisper under your breath, beginning to walk. “Just a ridiculously famous, incredibly good-looking customer who better leave a stunning tip.”

As you approach table thirteen, you notice that Eddie shifts slightly in his seat. One of his legs bounces under the table, and he drums his fingers lightly against the edge of the booth.

You \ set the plate and coffee down in front of him, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Waffles and coffee,” you announce, sliding the plate and mug onto the table with practiced ease. You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake—too much, anyway.

Eddie leans back, grinning up at you. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your heart stops. You couldn’t help but think his eyes hold a knowing look, like he knew exactly what went down and now knows that you know exactly who he is.

“Enjoy,” you grin back. 

Behind you, you hear him mutter something under his breath, followed by a quiet groan, and you can’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest that he enjoyed what you recommended to him. 

The rest of the rockstar’s stay goes smoothly. You don’t intend on saying anything to give away what you know, despite it probably already being known, and you're grateful by this normalcy. You refill his coffee, make light conversation (the weather is particularly sunny and pretty today, shining through the windows and letting pretty glow spread through the diner), and take his plate when he’s wiped it clean.

You don’t even think much of his stay, mind already going back to it being a regular customer that deserves no more or less attention than anyone else is supposed to.

(Sure, his smile lingers in your mind a little longer than you’d like to admit—so what if his smile is better than any that you’ve seen, anyway?)

It isn’t until Eddie’s up and left and you trail back to the table to wipe it off, a damp rag in hand, do you notice the wad of cash left in his wake that is definitely worth more than his bill.

Your jaw drops down, staring at it and contemplating what to do with that much of an amount of money in front of you.

Next to it, a folded napkin sits.

Your mind immediately goes to an autograph; that he’s one of those celebrities, and he just couldn’t resist leaving a little something to prove of his appearance.

You’re taken back when you unfold it to see his number scribbled messily onto the fabric. Your fingers shake as you move your thumb to fully read the note that he added at the bottom,

Call me. Please. :)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Saw your most recent thought about writing Gambit, PLEASE DO ITTT!! He has been my favourite ever since i was young... After watching Deadpool & Wolverine, the one who played by Channing Tatum... OH GOD I need him more now 🤚😔💥 ((But please take your time to write tho!! Don't wanna rush or pressure you about it ✨️

Part two here

‘What if this is it. What if this is the ending we get because we were the unlucky ones and that this is where we were meant to be regardless of how hard we try.’ You say one day and Remy stopped shuffling his cards.

‘And what made you come to that bleak conclusion, mon cher.’ He asks softly, having a feeling that you had been withholding this thought inside for a while, and it wasn’t only until now did it feel like coming to light in the presence of someone you felt safest with, or at least he assumed you did with how often you tended to stick to his side. You had lost your friend Jubilee a while back to Alioth and ever since then you’ve been stuck to Remy and admitting things to him in confidence that he beloved you would’ve told Jubilee…had she stayed a little while longer.

You shrug. ‘Merely an educated guess. That and the copious amounts of times where we’ve tried and failed to escape but I’m pretty sure that’s evident, considering that we’re.still.fucking.here.’

Remy sighs, gets up from the table and walks across the room and takes his place next to you, shoulder to shoulder and as your thighs briefly touch. ‘You may think me stupid for thinking this mom cher, but it is the truth of my heart, and that truth is that I’m glad we’re here.’ He admits but starts laughing soon after upon looking at your confused face, finding it adorable.

‘Care to elaborate on that?’ You then said as you started at as though he had grown a second head. What did he mean by that? That he was happy he was trapped here? Had Remy finally gone mad, you weren’t quite sure but decided that you would hear him out in hopes that there was a logical explanation after a confession like that after all.

‘With pleasure,’ Remy began, ‘the reason I say this because if I weren’t here then I would’ve never met you, built a friendship with you and so on, so while I share your want to leave this place.’ He then leans in real close to you, so close to the point you could feel his breath fanning your face and his lips ghost over your own as your heart went nuts in your throat. ‘I can’t help but thank it for brining us together, for I wouldn’t have thought to experience a love quite like ours mon cher.’ Remy concludes and you couldn’t help but smile.

Remy has once told you that you did exist in his timeline, just with a minor detail in the fact that you weren’t a mutant like him. You were friends, close friends, but one day you died protecting him, he’s never forgiven himself since and still hasn’t. ‘Brave soul, courageous heart you had.’ He had said while fighting back tears as you held him just as he began to weep over a you that wasn’t you; Regarding whether or not you were together was a question that was never answered nor asked, for you didn’t want to reopen old wounds Remy chose to close for a reason.

You had a Remy back home but he was with Rouge and you weren’t even remotely as close as Remy and his variant of you were. You were barely even on speaking terms because of how little you interacted with one another. So needless to say your absence wasn’t felt nor missed in the slightest, but you didn’t have the energy nor the ability to care about that anymore.

You gently shove him in the chest. ‘Cheesy bastard.’ You muttered as Remy chuckled, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in as you melted into his warmth, feeling safe from all harm and most importantly; loved.

‘Don’t you know. All Remy’s to ever exist are romantics at heart mon cher?’ He playfully said as he tightened his grip on you, planting one more kiss on your forehead, humming in content.

‘No. I only know one Remy who’s a romantic at heart,’ you told him as you lifted a hand to gently boop him on the nose, ‘you and that’s the only Remy I need to know, for you are the best Remy out of all of them. At least in my opinion.’ You finished as you then kissed him on the cheek.

Remy smiles softly at you as he felt himself becoming more content with his fate if it meant sharing these moments with you for the rest of his life, you made life here bearable and he couldn’t imagine going back to a life where all he had to remember was your name scrawled into a cold, unforgiving headstone. ‘And your opinion is the only opinion I ever want to have for the rest of my life.’ He says as he held you tighter before smothering you in kisses, smiling widely as he heard you giggle and squeal for mercy, while back home you may not be anything to him, but here? You were everything to him and more.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Ghost (Logan Howlett x reader)

A/N: this is my first attempt at a fic in a while, so please just bear with me. This takes place after the events of Deadpool and Wolverine. I feel like I am not too great at writing Wade’s character and I think I’m still learning how to write Logan so just please don’t hate me if anything seems out of character. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: cursing, mentions of thoughts of suicide, nothing else out of the ordinary for a Deadpool and Wolverine fic

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: What happens when the man who broke your heart shows up on your doorstep with a weird man claiming to be from another universe?

As you were tying your robe into place, the sound of glass shattering in the other room caught your attention.

“Fuck.” You muttered before hastily making your way down the hallway. “Nugs, what the hell are you doing in here?”

The overweight orange cat meowed loudly from where he sat on the floor. Directly beside him was a pile of dirt and the remnants of your favorite flower pot.

“Nugget! Dude, we have talked a million times about you trying to get up on that shelf.” You shooed the cat away from the mess, then went to retrieve a broom. “You are far too big to be trying to climb up there. You could get hurt.”

He meowed again and rubbed against your calf, offering his own version of an apology.

You swept the dirt and plant material into the dustpan. As you were making your way towards the trash can, a firm knock came at the front door.

Nugget started meowing loudly. It was almost like he was trying to imitate a siren and warn you that there was someone at the door.

Cautiously, you moved towards the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, sure, but you also knew absolutely no one in the city, so why would someone be knocking on your door at 11:30 on a Wednesday night?

You pulled the door open to see an unknown man. He wore a trucker hat with the words ‘this is actually my first rodeo’ stitched on to it. He was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans. The skin covering his face was scarred badly.

“Can I help you?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh my FUCK! You didn’t tell me we were coming to see Y/N!” The man turned around to reveal Logan Howlett.

Your heart jumped to your throat at the sight of him, and the very thought of breathing went right out the window.

He stood with his arms crossed. The dark red flannel he wore stretched over his muscles. It was like the shirt was two sizes too small for him. The jeans he wore were dark and fit him snug. His hair wasn’t as poofy as you remembered it being, but it was still styled and spiked just like he had always done.

As you took in the sight of the Wolverine, you realized he didn’t look as unkempt as you so vividly recalled him being the last time that you saw him.

“Uh, hi, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name almost made you vomit right then and there. It had been years since you last heard him say your name.

You snapped out of your trance, the tension and nerves in your stomach twisting into anger.

“What the fuck do you want, Logan?”

��I know it’s a long shot, but we need somewhere to stay for the night.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. What made him think he had the right to ask you for anything?

You started to close the door but the man you didn’t know stopped you, placing his hand on the door.

“Hold on just a second, Y/N! We have some wild— and I mean wild —stories to tell you.”

”I don’t know you, fuck nuts.” You snapped. Your irises disappeared as the entire eye turned black. “Now if you two don’t get the hell away from my apartment—,”

”I know you don’t owe me anything, Y/N.” Logan paused, taking a second to admire how stunning you looked. You stood there in nothing but a soft pink robe with little cherries all over it and your hair was wet. You even smelled the same. “We’re doing some…. work nearby and we need somewhere to stay.”

”Go fuck yourself, how about that?” You tried to close the door but this time Logan stopped you. His hand was firm and steady as he held the door open.

“I-I just want to talk to you.”

You held his gaze, your eyes returning to their normal Y/E/C color.

Perhaps if he hadn’t looked so different from the last time you saw him, you’d slam the door in his face. But he didn’t look broken, his eyes weren’t empty. The Logan standing before you was more like the one you fell in love with years ago, rather than the one who had broken your heart.

“When was the last time you had a drink?”

Logan let out a heavy breath and almost rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It was, like, forty-five minutes ago. But it was just one drink.”

”He’s seriously been cutting back on the alcohol.” The stranger nodded his head. “But if you ask me, I’d rather him be loaded with that shit. Makes him more tolerable.”

Logan elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

”It’s a good thing I didn’t ask you then isn’t it, buddy?” I raised my brows at the stranger.

”Yikes, you are just like I remember you being. All sweet and mean and shit.”

“Please, Y/N.” Logan pulled your attention back to him.

With a sigh of defeat, you stepped back and held the door for the two men.

“Yes! Thank you, Y/N.” The stranger happily entered your home. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what your place was like. The you from my world banned me from her place a long time ago. We wear the same size shoes, you know. And apparently, she doesn’t like to share. Said I stretched out her Burkins. And her nighties.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened to the man ramble.

“Who in the fuck are you?”

”Wade Wilson.” The man turned around to face you, holding his hand out. “You might know me as Deadpool.”

”No, actually. I don’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Where the hell did you get this guy, Logan?”

”Uh, it’s a long story.”

”I can explain it all, momma. Let’s have a seat.” Wade gestured to your kitchen table and then pulled a chair out.

***

You stepped out onto your balcony, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket in your jacket. Your eyes flickered out over the city.

Never in a million years did you think that Logan Howlett would show up at your apartment looking like a kicked dog. Never in a million years did you think he’d be able to dig himself out of the hole he tried to bury himself in ages ago. And never in a million years did you think he would have the guts to stand in front of you asking to stay for just the night.

He needed somewhere to stay for the night, somewhere to rest in the midst of whatever the fuck he was doing. And with him came a strange man by the name of Wade Wilson.

The air was cool and a gentle breeze blew through your hair. The faint sound of car horns kept you from being too absorbed by your own thoughts.

Out of the corner of your eye, something moved. It was Wade.

You took a puff of the cigarette and then offered it to him.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m trying to limit my oral intake of carcinogens.”

You nodded, finding it best not to question him, and moved to sit down at the little table.

“Sometimes I think things couldn’t get any more crazy. The man who broke my heart and made me contemplate offing myself shows up at my front door out of the blue with a man claiming to be from another universe entirely. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Wade opened his mouth to answer your rhetorical question with something sassy, but he stopped himself. He could see that your eyes were glossy and your breath was shaky. Your hand trembled as you held the cigarette up to your lips.

He slipped into the seat next to you, racking his brain for something to say.

“Did you know that?” You asked him, your eyes finding his. “That when we broke up, when he…. When Logan decided that he was done…. I thought about killing myself.”

”No, I didn’t.” Wade spoke softly.

”We were together for years. Almost a lifetime. And he just…. He just couldn’t take it anymore. After what happened at the school.” You paused for a moment. “He couldn’t move on, but he couldn’t die either. Everything just turned him into someone I— someone I didn’t know. Don’t know.”

Wade watched you in silence. His chest began to feet tight, like it was hard for him to breathe. Seeing his best friend— or at least his best friend in his world —so torn up, so genuinely hurt, made Deadpool feel bad.

“In my world, you two were together until his dying breath.”

Your eyes snapped over to him, unsure that you had heard him right.

”What?”

”Wherever you were, he was not too far behind. You two were inseparable. Practically joined at the hip.”

You gazed at him for a few moments, giving yourself time to process his words. An ache began to stir in your gut, the same ache that you fought every single minute of every single day to suppress.

“He-He died? In your- In your world, I mean.”

”Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Wade rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “It was a real dark time for everyone. I never even got to team up with him before he croaked.”

You flicked the ashes from your cigarette into an ashtray. You leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

“Your Logan, was he like this one?”

“Very similar. This one gives off slutty vibes. And he’s more drunk than the one from my world.”

“Was I happy with him, Wade?”

The Deadpool looked at you for a while. It was so weird to him that you were questioning your happiness with Logan Howlett. In his world, all you ever did was talk about Logan, about the memories you had with him.

“Happier than anyone I ever knew.” He nodded his head softly. “Look, I don’t know your situation with him in this world, but I think you should let him talk to you.”

You took a deep breath of the cigarette. The back of your throat burned.

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Just let him talk and explain himself. Make him feel like a dick for what he did. Then have the hottest makeup sex ever. Lovers-to-enemies-back-to-lovers sex is the best. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t had a chance to experience that yet. Still on my bucket list.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me before. What makes you think he’ll listen to me now?”

“In our little journey we’ve had, I think I’ve been a good influence on him. I got him to smile, like, three times.”

You wanted to believe him, to trust the words he was telling you and the grin on his face. But you couldn’t stop thinking back to the Logan you remembered.

The cigarette between your fingertips disappeared beneath your touch, the gentle breeze taking away the particles of what was left of it.

You looked down at your hand, a shaky breath leaving through your lips.

“I don’t know, Wade.”

“That’s okay, momma. That’s okay.” He put his hands up. “It’s late and it’s been a wild and odd day for you. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, standing from your chair.

He stood to his feet and looked down at you for a few moments. Then his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Oh, uh–,”

“Shhh. Just let me hug you.” He whispered.

You were confused and shocked a little bit, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

“You smell just like the Y/N from my world.”

”Alright, okay.” You pulled away from him.

“I’m gonna go see if the princess is done with her shower yet.”

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You watched him walk back into your apartment and he disappeared around a corner.

You stood there for a few moments in silence. He was an interesting man. You almost enjoyed how much he constantly annoyed Logan.

“What a fucking day.” You rubbed your temple with one hand as you moved to return to your seat.

The cigarette pack was pulled from your jacket pocket and you took out a second cigarette. You put the stick between your lips, then reached back into your pocket to pull out a lighter.

Someone cleared their throat. You turned your head to see Logan standing in the doorway. He was in a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was damp, a telltale sign that he had just gotten out of the shower.

You said nothing to him for a few heartbeats.

“Your friend is strange.” You nodded to the seat beside you that Wade had previously sat in. As Logan sat down, you held out the pack of cigarettes for him.

“Thanks.” He muttered, taking the box and pulling a cigarette out. You took it back from him and tossed it down onto the table. “He’s…. He’s not too bad.”

You lit your cigarette, then passed the lighter to Logan.

”When’d you take up smoking?” He placed the lighter down on the table next to the pack of cigarettes.

“Couple years ago.”

Logan wanted to look at you, to see how much you had changed in the years since he had last seen you. But he couldn’t bring himself to see the way that you looked at him. The sadness. The grief. The anger. So instead, the Wolverine focused his gaze on the skyline ahead.

The two of you sat there in silence for what felt like ages. Part of you didn’t know what to say, but the other part of you didn’t feel like it was your job to be the first to speak. That was on him.

You finished the cigarette with one final deep breath, then you put it out in the ashtray. The silence was getting to be too much, and you contemplated getting a third cigarette.

“Why did you come here, Logan?” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

”I wanted to…. I guess I just wanted to see you.” He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. “The whole way here, I was trying to think of something to say, of what I could say to apologize to you, to show you that I am sorry. But nothing is good enough. Nothing sounds good enough.”

You turned your head to look at him, tilting your head to the side just a little.

“Start with an actual apology, Logan. Tell me that you are sorry. God knows you’ve never fucking done that before.”

Logan pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, not yet at least.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the breeze blowing over the balcony made your damp cheeks feel cold. You turned away from him, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I am— I’m so, so fucking sorry for everything.” Logan’s voice was quiet.

“I thought about killing myself, Logan.”

It was his turn to look at you. His brows were drawn together and his lips parted.

“What?”

“I had no one left. The Professor was gone. Storm, Jean, there was no one fucking left for me to go to.” Your voice trembled as you said each name.

“I’m— Y/N, I’m sorry. I just…. There was a lot going on and I—,”

”You don’t think I didn’t fucking see what was going on, Logan?” You cut him off. The sadness and grief you felt quickly turned to anger. “I wanted to help you. I did everything I could to try to help you! And you just shot me down like I was a fucking nobody to you. Like we hadn’t spent the last fifteen plus years together!”

”I didn’t know how to process everything!” He raised his voice. All the emotions from all those years ago came flooding back to him. “You couldn’t fix everything, Y/N! You couldn’t just make things better with a snap of your fingers! I was an asshole. The biggest fucking asshole in the world. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stood to your feet. The thought of just sitting idly while you felt the white hot anger of a thousand suns under your skin made you want to vomit.

“Fuck you, Logan. Actually and genuinely fuck you. To think you have the right to find me and just waltz in and try to apologize for fucking being the absolute biggest dickhead in the entire—,”

Logan cut you off by wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into what was perhaps the tightest hug you had ever had in your life. He buried his face against the side of your head, his hands pressing firmly into your back.

You were frozen in shock for the first few seconds. What was he doing? What was he trying to do?

”I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, you melted around him. Your arms wrapped around his torso. You buried your face in his chest.

Sure, you weren’t completely accepting of his apology. There were still plenty of conversations the two of you needed to have to work through your issues. But you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for years.

You stood there for a long time, probably too long, holding him as tight as you possibly could. Your tears dampened his hoodie at the center of his chest and you were sure you could feel his own tears making your hair damp.

When he finally felt that he had held you for long enough, Logan pulled back. You looked up at him, taking in a shaky breath through your lips. His large hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing the tears away.

”We should go to sleep.”

”Yeah.” You nodded your head, stepping away from him so that you could gather yourself quickly. “Um, yeah. I think Wade said something about sharing the guest bed with you.”

”Oh, great.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“You can always sleep on the couch if you want.” You offered, moving around him and into your apartment.

You stopped in the kitchen to watch him. As he stepped into the dim lighting of your home, you found yourself staring at him once more. It felt like you were dreaming, like maybe this was some sort of coma dream. Maybe you fell down the stairs in your apartment and this wasn’t real.

”Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Logan.”

[elf1998]

i luv your james fic!! You did so guud 💜

if it is not to much work could I request some james sweet smut hcs (。/// 。)

may i also be purple heart anon?

James Sunderland hc's [18+]

status: headcanons, requested by 💜 anon

content warning: female reader [?], smut, pretty self-explanatory, fluff, men crying, established relationship

author's note: Thank you so much, and more fics are coming, so stay tuned ;-) This is based on Silent Hill 2 Remake James, as I haven't played the original game (I am planning on it, though). Wanted to write this since long ago. I hope you'll enjoy it under the cut.

Even if James is extremely repressed, he seems like the type of person who would never have a one-night stand. He will only stay the night with you if he is already in love with you and hopes for more or if you are in a committed relationship. In addition to sex, it's a unique and intimate experience for him.

It has to be in a comfortable setting, preferably your bedroom, as you get ready for sleep or when you both are toasty and warm on your couch. He'll be enticed by you either way, but I think something like a babydoll nightgown, a short silk slip or simply a top with only panties on would make his head spin, he wouldn't even be able to look you in the eyes at first. It's driving him nuts that he can't tell if you're attempting to woo him or are truly that naive. Either way, you're succeeding, your visage of innocent femininity striking a fire within him.

ー What's... What are you wearing?;

ー No, I know it's a gown. It's not that I don't like it, it's just... It's transparent.

ー It is supposed to be?

Years of self-preservation took their toll, and even small things like his hand creeping under the sheer fabric to brush your thigh and gentle, wet open-mouth kisses make him all hot and bothered. The hotness of your skin and your soft breaths of pleasure make him dizzy, and he'll be leaking from the tip even before he slips his fingers into you. You won't be even touching him yet, and he'd be rock hard and hurting under his pants just after ten minutes of foreplay.

Not too small or too big, just perfect to fit into your hand, growing more girty as you jerk him. A nice 5-6 inches with a pretty pink flushed head that is just asking to be kissed.

Because he fears scaring you away with his immense desire and partially believes that what he is doing is wrong or too soon, he exhibits a great deal of self-loathing and chastity. Can't help but hesitate the first time you're together, I imagine he'd be really eager to make love to you but will need constant reassurance. Yes, you're ready, no, he's not hurting you, of course you want him, and so on. Will be checking on your facial expressions for any pain or discomfort and asking if you feel good every few minutes, even if you're nearly begging for him.

Likes to give you a sorf of a full body "massage," and when he offers, you know instantly what it means. His slender fingers are so gentle and sensual while groping and slipping into you that it has you writhing under him. His tongue and hands don't leave you for even a minute, and the foreplay is quite lengthy. Sometimes, he can be a little selfish and tease you a bit more just to see your sobbing face.

He'll be kissing your lips, face, neck, and shoulders like he's starved the moment he's inside of you. He wants you to feel loved, but he can't help but be lustful for you, so he greedily sucks and grabs anything he can get his hands on. He imagined this more times than he'd like to admit when he fisted his length in the middle of the night, but the real you is so much better.

His own sweet spot is skin behind his ears, and he will get loud if you kitten lick or bite his earlobe while in the heat of the moment. He feels like he has to maintain this strong man upfront for you, so he's not very vocal usually, but his ears are his erogenous zone. He'll let out low, pathetic whines, and his hips will stutter roughly into you, so you'll know he's sensitive there. (The exact sounds he makes in the game when he sprints too fast or is hit hard by an enemy and cries out.)

I wouldn't say he's overly serious when it comes to intimacy; I think he might occasionally crack a joke or chuckle, but most of the time he's just unable to concentrate on anything but you. In his mind, it's just white noise. He can be so engrossed in his pleasure with you that he won't likely hear you if you ask him a question.

ー Uh, I... Mhmmm... S-sorry, what... What did you say again?

Gets all whiny and apologetic when he's close because he doesn't have a lot of stamina after all those years being alone. Starts blabbering as he gets too lost in your warmth and tightness, the words coming out on their own.

ー You're so beautiful, sweetheart, you feel so good;

ー You look so cute right now... I wish you could see yourself the way I do... Fuck...;

ー I love you, I love you, I'm so sorry, I ー !

He will pound you into the mattress and sob while clutching your hands if you put your face in his, stare into his eyes, and tell him just how much you love him. Trembles throughout and for a few minutes after his orgasm, tears streaking his face while blanketing you with his body.

Once he gets more accustomed to you, he doesn't mind pleasuring you in the shower as you wash each other or taking you on the kitchen counter when he gets a sudden urge after watching you bend over the stove. It's mostly sweet and sensual domestic bliss sex that leaves you both completely breathless.

You will often find him face between your legs in the morning, begging to go down on you, because he gets off to your pleasure than he does to his own.

This man can't support dirty talk at all. He could try if you ask but will probably end up embarrassing himself or making you laugh. Or ruining the mood. Or all at once.

ー Honey, I'm sorry, I can't call you that... No, I know it's pretend, I just can't. It sounds filthy, and you are my... Hey, what's so funny?

His favorite positions are the ones where he can see you face and hold you or kiss you. Loves skin on skin contact, missionary, and cow girl being his favorite. Bites his lips and closes his eyes while completely relaxing during the later as you ride his cock, and lets out strained breathy gasps.

James is the best with aftercare. Will bring you everything you need, food, something to drink, a warm wet towel to clean you up, and wipe you himself. Will tuck you under a blanket and cuddle you at least for an hour before walking you to shower, helping you bathe and generally taking care of you.

Bonus:

His top secret fantasy is recording. You get what I mean. He wants to make your own personal sex tape that you can watch together or when you're not around, and he misses you. He will never bring it up because he thinks you'll find him gross, but if you ever mention it, he'll turn into a sweaty mess (he'd be definitely up for it, though).

[voltronisanobsession]

heyy! i was hoping to request a percy x eris! reader.

like since eris is the goddess of strife everyone thinks the reader would be all dark and gloomy all the time, but reader is a literal ball of sunshine, complete opposite of what everyone says.

but just because reader’s personality is opposite of their mom it doesn’t mean they doesn’t use their powers. i was thinking they have the ability to create conflict, like during battle and stuff reader can make their opponents fight eachother.

following the creating conflict thing, i also think reader is very good at arguing. whether it be something small or big, they always win. this would drive the camp nuts with reader always getting their way. i think percy would secretly like this because he thinks reader deserves whatever they want and more

thank you!

Percy with Eris!Reader

OOOOO ME LIKEEYYYY!!! The way i had a RUSH of inspiration reading this!

Has anyone watched that one mlp equestria girls movie about the sirens? And how they're music caused everyone to go against each other? Well this definitely reminded me of them lol

Also lowkey less centered around Percy SORRY😭😭😭😭😭 I was just so focused on baddie reader😔

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS IDEA

Despite there being very few children of Eris now, I feel like most people know of the destructive power her offsprings hold

There's even cautionary tales amongst half-bloods to leave an area where discord settles in human hearts unless you want to backstab your friends

Children of Eris have been known to lack empathy for others, preferring to watch as people tear each other part over the littlest of things

This had made them starting catalysts for wars back in the day, until Olympus decided 'reducing' Eris' children would be better for human-kind

Her children still roam the world though, spreading chaos and strife just by their mere presence

Now when Percy was told this information for his quest to retrieve one of Eris' children and bring them back to camp, he was not expecting reader to be such a bubbly person

Homeboy was ready to battle them and take them back to camp by force if he needed to, something he really didn't want to do, but he was very much confused and unsettled to see how different reader was to what he was told

Instead of being a dark brooding figure, taking delight in chaos you were creating, you sat by your lonesome, appearing upset with all the arguing and fighting happening around you

While people yelled at each other, you would try to help them settle down and make peace, though this would only cause louder arguing between everyone

Everywhere you went, you spread discord and strife amongst the people you passed

Couples on dates would find the smallest thing to nitpick their partners over, customers and workers would argue over the dumbest inconvenience that shouldn't have bothered anyone

It was as if you were the living embodiment of 'having a bad day'

So when he finally approaches you, he couldn't stop the fluttering in his heart at the sight of your bright smile!

You were kind and compliant when he told you of his quest, something he wasn't expecting at all

Percy was waiting for you to at least put up some fight but you never did. Instead you just followed him with a pep in your step, happily talking to him about any and everything

Reader's presence itself causes calamity, their aura affecting everybody near them. It's puts people in a trance

I feel like people would see reader as a bad omen, a source of bad luck to stay away from

This shows with their interactions with Percy!

He sees that you're a naturally friendly person, but you always seem a little desperate talking with him

Like you think that he's gonna leave once he knows how unforgiving your power truly is😔

When he sees you use your power for the first time against some monsters chasing you, it sort of clicks just how controlling you actually are

The monster once working together now clash against each other after only a few minutes of finding you both

You'd glare at them and flick your hands towards them, a wave of your discord hitting them head on

"You've messed with the wrong person, I will not tolerate this disrespect."

Even reader knows their own power and influence to cause strife within anything

Honestly this serves as a perfect distraction for any situation cuz any party involved is gonna be too busy to notice the two of you sneaking by them

Of course there are people who are able to resist readers influence, those who are powerful enough to clear their mind from them. Percy is included in this category

Once you settle in camp, most people avoid you for the most part even when you finally control your mother's given powers💔💔

You try to approach people with a friendly smile and positive attitude but I guess people get too wary

The cabin you would most get along with is Ares, no doubt

It's just nature for children of Eris and Ares to get along as the gods themselves have worked together in the past on many occasions

Percy still sticks close to your side though, always reassuring you when you feel like giving up on making any friends

I think campers would start approaching Eris!Reader more once they witness them arguing with Dionysus over a situation

Whether it be over something simple as a cancelled game of capture the flag, or sending people out on an important quest that cannot wait, it's clear that the argument is in readers favor

The god and demigod are both quick witted, making back and forth talk look as easy as breathing

Its obvious your natural power backs the wine god himself into a corner when he cant find another excuse for his decision

And really? He'll never win an argument against the god of strife and discord's child

He sees Eris' unforgiving gaze in your eyes

So he puffs his chest and mutters a few words before disappearing with a low, "It's your life, not mine."

Reader def gets brownie points from the camp for not backing down against Dionysus

Hell even Percy is cheering you on as everyone surrounds you

"You're so cool! I don't think i could ever speak like that to Dionysus of all people."

"Oh it was really nothing..."

"Come on, you got the big dog to agree with you! That's like, never heard of!"

"Yeah!"

I think everything would be smooth sailing from there

People know not to drag you into any fight/arguments cuz they know you'll win regardless

And if you do find yourself in one, you already know Percy is gonna be such a big instigator like bro go away LMAO💀

You two would get along so well since he's able to keep up with your quick remarks

And after everything you've been through, and how much he's helped you in changing your life, it's after one dinner night when you confess your growing feelings for the boy

He's gotten to know you for the person you are, not for the person people say you are

Percy knows you're more than just your mother's child, a vessel of discord

He knows that you’re a good-natured person at heart and you've poured your heart into fixing everything you cause destruction to

He happily accepts your feeling, awkwardly admitting he's felt the same for some time 😅(what a cutie patootie)

Honestly I see sm potential for Eris!Reader, especially if they were like an antagonistic character

They don't even have to get their hands dirty to have their enemies succumbing to them

Badass demigod with a badass boyfriend

What more could you ask for lol😜

ALSO

He knows not to get into any fights with you cuz you will win in the end, whether you were right or not

The most he can do is put up a good fight😭

[killuintense]

OMG, I JUST READ UR STEPDAD LEON FIC AND BITCH I COULDVE BUSTED A NUT. THAT SHIT WAS PUSSY DRIPPING PERFECTION, I DONT THINK IVE EVER READ SMUT THAT FUCKING GOOD.

You’ve got MAJOR talent, oml

❝ catch us if you can ❞

stepdad!leon kennedy x fem!reader.

summary: just Leon being a very cuddly stepdad to you.

content: 1.8k words, p in v, smut, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, soft dom leon, porn with some plot i think, thinking abt do a serie abt stepdad!leon. you have another part to read if you want.

note: thank you for your words !! i haven't written in a while but your message inspired me to follow this version of the Leon that i like so much, i hope you like this little gift ;)

The headboard of your mother's bed was banging frenetic and messily against the wall of the room. If you weren't with both legs spread in such an obscene manner, you could have seriously worried about the neighbors' complaints and the problems that would mean, but, come on... there would be time to worry about that, maybe when you didn't have your stepdad fucking you with all his might against his wife's matrimonial mattress, and you weren't moaning in such a pathetic way.

Leon's cock was plunging inside you and pounding your womb with a precision that was nothing short of bringing you to the brink of starting to shed the first tears, his bare chest pressed against your tits, crushing them, while his mouth carelessly kissed yours and saliva leaked out shamelessly. His rhythm was messy and desperate, as if he sought to please you no matter what, but couldn't fight that instinct to fuck you with total selfishness as soon as he felt you squeezing him like a bitch in heat seeking to leave him without even the last drop. "Baby, baby, fu-fuck" he moaned pulling away from the kiss as the squeaking of the poor wood of the bed got louder and louder "Stop squeezing me like that, for the love of god... I swear when I cum I will fill you so full of my cum I will give you a beautiful baby" a small squealing moan came from your lips as both of his hands played with your tits squeezing and pampering them just like he knew how to do "Is that what you want, love? To be fucked so hard then swell these beautiful tits even more, don't you?" inevitably your legs trembled at his tone of voice and your hands clutched at his back, clawing at him in the same rhythm as his balls hit your skin hard and his fingers were soaked with the juices you slowly started to produce being close to your orgasm.

"Leon!" you moaned desperately "Da-daddy, please, I'm going to cum, stop it!, I-" he deep chuckle was heard as it mingled with his guttural moans as he felt himself suffocating inside you because you were at your limit inevitably bringing him to his. And, fuck, it would sound fucked up to him but it warmed him up so much to hear you calling him 'daddy', with that soft and aching little voice, like a little kitten looking for his caresses no matter what. For that very reason he paid no attention to you, and his onslaught became more and more erratic and didn't stop even though a scream of pleasure made itself in your throat as you felt that heat in your abdomen dissipate and expand into a strong orgasm, squeezing with your legs around his hips so that he stayed pounding into that sweet spot inside you. Even Leon should have used a condom, but that feeling he got from cumming at the same time as you and having hot spurts of cum fill his girl completely drove him crazy whenever you fucked, the idea that even when you both pulled away his essence would still be in your body.

"Shit, babe" he grunted, penetrating you one last time until he felt his base was completely inside you, thus being able to see the tip of his cock hit your stomach and protrude slightly, causing you to spasm hard as a consequence of having fucked you even through your orgasm. He was sweaty and felt heavy against you, sinking into your neck as you tried to regulate your breathing and he the same, gently kissing your skin with marks from his mouth. You felt his two-day-old beard prickle and tickle, stealing a chuckle from under you.

"You kind of have a lot of beard already, don't you, old man?" you joked and ripped a chuckle from him causing him to settle into your side, slowly pulling out of you. Inside you and without wanting to admit it out loud that puzzled you, feeling that annoying emptiness that meant not having him inside you. He was always so thick, big, filling you up and making you feel complete.

"I thought they were one of the things that made me charming" he replied, stealing an exaggerated sigh jokingly from you as your hand stroked his dull golden hair. His forehead still had hairs softly sticking to it from sweat and his mouth wouldn't leave your side, now kissing your shoulder softly.

You couldn't remember when it had become so normal between the two of you. At what point you stopped feeling so much guilt and stopped avoiding each other out of embarrassment giving way to simply letting things flow. Although the first few times they wanted to avoid the desire to be together, avoiding each other in the corridors of the house, or arriving late for dinner so as not to see the three of them together at the table, in the end they always ended up meeting in one way or another in the bedroom kissing and ending up fucking. It was inevitable, they could not avoid that things went up a notch with the need to touch each other more and more, to suck, bite, lick, kiss each other's body without fear of being discovered.

There was something in Leon that made you look for him when you felt bad, overwhelmed by your problems, maybe that helpful way of doing things and protecting you, of laughing with you at night while he hugged you and kissed your hair sweetly, that nice way of just being with you without the need to do or say anything. Like that moment where he had you cuddled on his chest, with that warmth flowing from his skin as they talked about whatever the fuck they were talking about during the day. That soon he had to go on one of his stressful work missions and he would miss you, and you asked him to bring you a souvenir like he always did, trying not to get too emotional worrying about what it would mean to be without him for so many days.

However, before you wanted to continue talking, the door to the main entrance opened, creating noise downstairs. Your mother had returned earlier than expected.

You both jumped out of bed and quickly grabbed your clothes from the floor which luckily were nothing more than a t-shirt and your panties, looking confused at each other. One look was enough to know that you just had to quickly lock yourself in your room; you didn't think much about it in fact, and before locking yourself in you watched as Leon arranged the unraveled sheets and put on his clothes as quickly as he could. Your mother's voice began to be heard as she came up the stairs and by then you locked the door to your room to make sure you didn't get any surprises. You began to despair, you didn't know exactly what to do and worse, you didn't know what Leon was supposed to do. You stuck your ear to the wood of the door, which luckily was thin enough to hear what was happening on the other side.

"Leon, honey, I'm back!" your mother said once she was upstairs, the shower head could be heard falling lightly and your stepfather's voice sounded muffled as he let her know he was showering. As always, a man of effective plans. "Oh, I understand, honey, thank you for taking my advice and opening the windows, the room needed airing out" she told him and you thanked God for making him a man attentive to detail, as the smell of sex was going to be all too evident, ever since you woke up that morning Leon hadn't let you rest for a second. It was morbid to think that in the same bed where your mother was relaxed right now, a few minutes ago you were having the best orgasm of your life... with her husband.

Interesting.

Seeing that they were out of danger and calmer, you changed and a few minutes later you went out to greet your mother, with the excuse that you were too busy with college work to go out to greet her. And everything continued normally, Leon came out showered and dressed in new clothes (clothes that did not have your sweet perfume impregnated in them), greeting her affectionately with a kiss and a hug, and you caressing your hair as if it were a father to his daughter, surprised for not having seen you all day, according to his words. No ulterior motives. A happy family.

It was midnight and silence lay in the house, everyone was in their respective rooms and you were boredly flipping through the various channels offered by your television. You were about to continue on your interesting task of lounging around when your door was softly knocked and Leon's voice was heard on the other side, asking your permission to enter. You laughed internally, reminding yourself of the first time you were together. "Come in, silly" you laughed, and he appeared, closing the door behind him, with that soft, charming smile on his face. He was in his pajamas, apparently they had gone to bed a while ago but for some reason he decided to show up in your room (not that it bothered you at all, as it was customary for it to happen).

"Hey..." he mumbled not so loudly so as not to create disturbing noises and wake your mother from her deep sleep, approaching your bed at a lazy pace "Is there space for one more?" he asked and you laughed, leaving a gap next to you big enough for him to get in even though, as always, you loved that feeling of being squashed in like a big bear. "I'm sorry it all happened so abruptly today, you know how it is..." you could feel the tone of guilt in his voice, not so much for what they were doing, but for making you feel displaced in a way. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he just wanted you to hang out for a little while, and then just kick you out of the room.

"You know that I know how things work, Leon, I'm not a little girl" you said letting his arms wrap around you, making your cheek squish into his fluffy pecs. You planted a soft kiss there and bit down, making him chuckle softly at the gentle tickle.

"Sure, you're not a little girl, though you keep biting me like one" he chided with that loving tone that you could easily mistake for paternal if it weren't for the fact that he was planting soft kisses on your lips, caressing you as if you were going to break "You know I love you, don't you?" he blurted out amidst the wetness of your mouth, and if it weren't for the darkness of the room he could easily notice the blush all over your face "More than I love anyone, you're my girll" your heart felt soft and warm, a sense of home and protection that only he could bring to it. You would be lying if you said that a feeling of pride and superiority came over you knowing that you were what Leon loved the most.

"And I love you more, even if you crush me whenever we sleep together" you pinched the side of his abdomen and he laughed deeply burying himself in your neck with devotion as he breathed in as much as he could of you, all your scent, all your essence that made him feel alive, warm and loved. All those nights you were together, with or without clothes on, he wouldn't trade them for anything or anyone. Because, almost as if it were madness, you had taught him that way of loving without limits in an almost unconscious way. And he would take care of you no matter what.

[mountttmase]

Still Be Mine

Note - happy new year babies 🩷 thank you so much for all your love this year I really do appreciate you and I hope you enjoy this 🙊 feedback would be appreciated as normal 😏

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5.9k

Warnings - angst, smut and fluff

You’d never been a fan of New Year’s Eve. Always wanting to skip the parties so you could stay in and usually due to Masons scheduling arrangements there was never time for a big party. But this year was different.

You were currently in the car on the way to Ben's house. His and Masons fixtures were a little earlier than usual meaning they had time to do what they wanted this year and Ben wanted to throw a party so that Mason could be reunited with all of his ex teammates for a good catch up.

You didn’t mind this at all, itching to see some of your old girlfriends for a catch up too but as you got closer the nerves started to settle in.

You knew what Bens house parties were usually like and you were pretty sure they weren’t the best place to be having kids running around but he’d assure you that Ollie and Tilly would be more than welcome and it wasn't like a normal party of his.

You hadn’t been in the mood for it though as soon as you set off that morning. Driving straight from Manchester to Cobham and quickly stopping to see uncle Lew so you could change and get ready to go straight to the party and also drop Nala off with him so he could take her down to Mason's parents where you would be spending tomorrow.

You were tired and cranky and your new outfit that you loved yesterday now felt uncomfortable and tight. Not sitting how you wanted it too but just one smile and a compliment from Mason made all your troubles disappear into thin air.

To your surprise, it wasn’t like one of Ben's usual parties. The music was at a respectable volume and even though it was busy with most of the players, many had their kids with them and even Ben's parents and family were all there.

Your babies loved uncle Benji like he was a real part of the family. Running straight into his arms as soon as they saw him and it made your heart melt at how happy he himself was to see them. You missed having him around so much now so you knew times like these were extra special.

‘I got you this specially’ Ben smiled after you’d all hugged, walking you over to the fridge and pulling out a giant bottle of appletiser. ‘I remembered it was your favourite. Thought you could drink it out of a champagne glass and then you’ll look like the rest of us’

‘Oh yeah Ben, that’ll look really classy’ you laughed, your hand falling to your swollen belly. ‘Can’t wait to start a rumour that the pregnant lady is still drinking’

‘Yeah maybe you’re right, normal glass for you’ he laughed, pulling one from the cupboard and pouring you a glass. ‘I’ve set all the food up in there too for when the kids are ready and I can pop the tv on if you want’

‘Thanks Ben, I might have to. Tilly will go nuts if she misses Pupstruction’

‘What the fuck is that’ he laughed, clearly not up to date on kids tv shows and you were actually a little bit jealous.

‘I wish I could tell you, all I know is they don’t make shows like when we kids anymore’

Ollie and Tilly were running in soon after, followed by Mason who had the biggest smile on his face and your heart burst at how happy he was. Mason was a person who found joy in being around other people and the delight on his face let you know his was over the moon at being here.

‘You good?’ He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your forehead gently and you instantly felt more relaxed.

‘Yeah, everything in?’

‘Yeah, bags are all in the room so we’re good to go’

‘Thank you’ you smiled, feeling him position himself behind you so he could hold your bump in his hands and kiss your neck repeatedly.

‘God guys, not in the kitchen’ Ben mocked just as two girls walked in that you’d never seen before. They were both beautiful and had their eyes on Mason immediately but given your current emotional state you felt your heart sink however Mason appeared to be none the wiser. Still holding you just as before as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. ‘Oh perfect timing. Guys this is Miaya, the girl I was telling you about and this is her friend Josie’ he told you both. Pulling the one stood closest to him into his side and you couldn’t deny you felt a little relief at knowing at least one of them was with Ben. ‘Guys this this Mason and Y/n and these two little cuties are Ollie and Tilly’

Miaya seemed nice, sending you guys a quick wave and you could tell she was a little shy but it was Josie who was making you feel uneasy still. The way she looked you up and down made your skin itch and you almost lost it when she did the same to the kids but it was when her eyes landed on Mason you felt the worst.

You knew that look, and whilst you didn’t think you were a jealous woman when it came to Mason she wasn’t making it easy for you. Mason had never once given you any indication than he’d ever look to someone else but with how self conscious you were feeling tonight you wouldn’t blame him for looking elsewhere and the thought terrified you. Gripping onto Mason even tighter and he must have felt you stiffen as he placed a quick reassuring kiss to the side of your head.

‘Nice you meet you guys’ Mason smiled but before he could say anything else, Bettinelli’s booming voice was shouting for Mason so he reached for your hand. ‘I’ll catch you guys around, I better go see him’ he laughed. Picking up your glass before pulling you into the other room with the kids in tow. ‘That was oddly intense’ he laughed, turning to you with a silly smile but you didn't have a chance to react as Betts was pulling Mason into a hug as Nadia did the same with you.

‘Look at you! You're the most beautiful pregnant lady I’ve ever seen’ she laughed holding you at arms length. ‘You’ve got the cutest bump, I can’t’

‘Don’t I feel like a whale’ you laughed, slightly envious of the way she looked in her dress as it hugged all the right place.

‘Well you look gorgeous’ she smiled sincerely and you felt your eyes sting but thankfully her eyes were on Ollie and Tilly who were standing next to you hand in hand as they looked on at her shyly. ‘Hey guys, don’t you two look smart. All the other kids are in the play room if you wanna join them’ she told them, sending Ollie a reassuring smile as he led Tilly off to play with the other kids and you let them know you’d come and find them soon.

Mason had been stolen by the boys, spending his time catching up with them and sharing stories from Manchester whilst you went and sat with the girls. Being introduced to a few new faces as you laughed and spoke about how this pregnancy had been. Most of them either childless or only with one so they had many questions for you but you were more than happy to answer.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there but your glass was now empty and you figured you better check on the kids and make sure they weren’t causing any mischief with the others.

Thankfully you could see them playing nicely with the other kids but as soon as Tilly caught sight of you she was up and running over to you. A bright smile on her face just like how she normally looked when you got her from nursery and it made your heart thud at how happy she was to see you.

‘Hungry, mummy’ she pouted, reaching for your hand and Ollie wasn’t far behind at this point, nodding in agreement so you took them to the kitchen. Grabbing the pair of them a drink first before sneaking back into the main room to find Mason.

‘I’m just gonna take the kiddies to get some food’ you told him quietly, touching him on the back of the shoulder before he turned to you with a smile.

‘I’ll come with you’

‘No it’s okay, I got it’ you told him with a smile. Not wanting to pull him away from his friends that he hadn’t seen in a while so with a kiss to his cheek you grabbed Tilly’s hand and ushered her and Ollie into Ben's sitting room where he’d laid out all their favourite snacks.

Much to your dismay, you saw Miaya and Joisie in there, Josie’s eyes lighting up at the sight of you and Miaya gave you a small tight smile but as soon as you heard some shrill giggles you knew it was directed at you.

You let Ollie grab his own food but you knew Tilly needed some help, trying to focus on what she was asking for but a voice, you were presuming belonged to Josie, was getting louder and seemed to be the only thing you could hear anymore. Your tummy sinking with every word she said.

‘I mean does she really think he’ll stick around much longer with her looking like… that’

‘Jo’ Miaya sighed, trying to get her to be quiet but she didn't make too much more of an effort to make Josie be quiet causing her to giggle. Trying to mask it with her hand but you still heard it loud and clear and you felt sick to your stomach. Wondering if you should leave to go and get Mason but you felt a bit silly over reacting to what this random girl had to say about you.

‘I mean I get she’s given him kids but he could have anyone he wants. Like honestly if I was him I’d be ashamed coming here tonight with her looking like that. And those kids too like what must they think? I’d be so embarrassed’

You’d never felt so awful before, tears stinging your eyes as you tried carrying on but it was difficult as she tore you apart bit by bit behind you. Not seeming to want to give up as she giggled away at you and as much as you tried to hold your emotions in you knew you were about to lose it.

‘I’m surprised she even managed to squash herself into those shoes. You just wouldn’t bother would you?’

It was getting too much for you. Your hands shaking as you passed Tilly what you’d got for her so far before you felt a little hand touch your arm and when you looked down, Ollie was looking at you with a concerned expression.

‘Shall we go out, mum?’

‘I think so baby, yes. We’ll go up to our room, yeah?’ you answered. Grabbing Tilly’s shoulder so you could steer her out and over to the stairs but she nearly threw a fit about not getting the snacks she wanted so you let her know she could have them upstairs, you just needed to get out and away from that horrible girl.

You always stayed in the same room when you visited Ben so you quickly shuffled the pair of them inside. Popping Tilly up on the bed and passing her her plate before Ollie took hold of your hand and you almost burst into tears at his expression.

‘Are you okay, mum?’ He questioned, letting you pull him in for a hug when your eyes filled with tears but you were determined not to show him how upset you were.

‘I fine baby, I promise’

‘But those girls-‘

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter, yeah?’ You told him. Ruffling his hair before pulling back. ‘Will you look after Tilly a sec? I just need the loo’ you told him and after he’d nodded you dropped a kiss on his forehead before shutting yourself in the en-suite.

You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror, knowing if you did you’d start ugly crying so you pulled the toilet lid down and sat on it. Trying to calm your strangled breaths but it was no use. You felt humiliated and their words were replaying in your head on a loop.

Is that what people really thought of you? That you should be ashamed of yourself? That Mason would leave you soon because of how you looked and that your babies were embarrassed of you?

It all got too much for you, covering your face with your hands so you could have a little cry but a knock on the door snapped you out of it.

‘Y/n? You in there?’ You heard Ben call. Quickly making yourself look presentable before letting him in but he saw the distraught look on your face straight away and closed the door behind him. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing, sorry. Just my hormones playing up a bit I think I’m alright’

‘Don’t lie, y/n. I know somethings up’ he told you with a sad smile before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘I heard you talking to Ollie just now and he told me someone was mean to you. Who was he talking about?’

‘It’s nothing-‘

‘Please tell me who it is, even if you think I’ll be upset’ he asked and you had a funny feeling he knew what was going on. ‘You guys come before anyone okay? so I don’t care who it is, I’ll sort it’

You didn’t want to tell him and make things awkward but there was no way you were leaving this room if she was still in the house so you dropped your eyes to the floor and played with your fingers.

‘It was Josie, Miaya didn’t do anything but she didn’t exactly defend me either’ you laughed, rolling your eyes. ‘She was just saying some not very nice things about me and how I look’ you told him, trying to laugh it off before you let out a small sob. ‘Is Mase anywhere, I just-‘

‘Shh come here’ he told you, pulling you in for a quick hug and it took all your strength not to break down in his arms. ‘I’ll go get him okay?’

‘Thanks Benji’ you hiccuped, trying to wipe your eyes and not smudge your makeup but from the black marks all over your hands you knew it was ruined by now.

‘That’s alright. I’ll sort it all I promise’. He sighed before leading you out and back to the kids. Sitting yourself next to Ollie who popped his hand in yours before Tilly eventually crawled over to sit on your other side. Clearly feeling the mood had shifted and wanting to hold your hand too and you all sat mostly in silence with them both leaning on your arms until you finally heard Mason running up the stairs and bursting into the room.

‘Hey, you all alright in here?’

‘No, I wanted cake’ Tilly moaned, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her tantrum. She really was her mothers daughter and you couldn’t blame her for missing out on cake since you were quite peckish yourself.

‘Ollie mate, can you take Tilly to go get some cake and then Uncle Ben’s got some sparklers in the garden for you okay?’ Mason told them and they were both quick to get up and rush out of the room. The prospect of cake and sparklers being far too exciting for them but that meant you were left with just Mason and you knew he could read you like a book.

‘Hey, come here’ he whispered, reaching for your hand as you felt your face crumple again. You should have known seeing Mason would have only set you off but you let him pull you up and into his arms. ‘Shhhhh it’s okay gorgeous, she’s gone now’

‘Sorry Mase, I feel like such a wally-‘

Don’t be silly baby, are you alright?’ He asked but you just nodded into his neck. ‘Come here, what did she say?’ He whispered, pulling you over to the bed so you could sit on his lap and once you were comfortable he just about caged you in his arms. Thumb lightly stroking your back as the other held your thigh.

‘Nothing I-‘

‘Please tell me. It can’t be nothing if you’re this upset’ he reasoned and you figured you might as well tell him. Hoping he’d be able to reassure you a little bit as you were feeling the worst you had about yourself in a while.

‘She basically called me ugly, said you’ll leave me soon cause you should be ashamed of me and the kids are probably embarrassed to have me as their mum’ you told him steadily, your voice slightly cracking at the end even though you tried hard to keep calm.

Mason's body tensed and you could feel the anger ripping through him but he kept it inside and just pulled you closer to his body. Letting you sob into his neck before pulling away so he could look at you.

‘I’m so sorry she said that to you baby but it’s all bullshit, you know that don’t you?’ He told you softly. You couldn’t reply, just shrugging your shoulders as deep down you were unsure of yourself but when you felt him tuck your hair behind your ear you looked straight into his soft brown eyes. ‘You’re the love of my life, I could never be ashamed of you’

‘But I’m all fat’ you laughed, your hand on your bump to emphasise your point but he just looked at you lovingly.

‘You’re pregnant babe, not fat’ he chuckled, placing his hand on top of yours as he tried to link your fingers together. ‘You’re sexy as hell to me when you’re like this’

‘Stop it’

‘I’m serious’ he laughed. Pressing a kiss to your cheek. ‘You’re carrying my baby, like do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you? Every time I look at you all I can think about is what we did to make this happen’

You remembered it too. Mason telling you he wanted a third baby on a family walk and after trying for a while you started to feel the familiar signs that it might be happening. He was so in tune with you and excited about it this time though he managed to predict you were pregnant even before you realised yourself and when it was confirmed and you counted back you were both surprised to find you’d managed to fall pregnant that first night you’d tried.

‘And those kids adore you. You’re their absolute world baby’ he followed on, doing anything he could to try and convince you. ‘I know it’s hard but please ignore that twat. She’s not worth your tears okay?’

‘Okay’

‘And we don’t have to leave this room until you’re ready, okay? I’ll sit with you-‘

‘No mase, I’m fine. You’re here to see your friends not sit with me’

‘Well I’m still gonna sit here’

‘Well then I’m ready to go’ you laughed, standing up and pulling him with you but he was quick to stop you in your tracks and cup your cheeks. Pressing delicate kisses to your face before finally kissing you properly and you felt any sense of stress leave your body as he delicately brushed his lips against yours.

‘No more tears, pretty girl, okay?’

‘Love you, Mase’ you whispered, thankful you had him to settle you back down again and your heart was racing as he smiled down at you.

‘Love you, too’

‘You go ahead, I think I’m gonna change into something else’ you told him just as he was about to pull you from the room but the disappointed look on his face made you squirm.

‘What? Why? Is it because of what she said?’

‘Well no I just…’

‘Sweetheart’ he huffed, placing his lips on your forehead gently. ‘You look perfect. And you know I’d tell you if you didn’t’ he teased. ‘Come on, let’s go back together’ he told you and after a quick wipe under your eyes he was helping you back down the stairs and into the room where everyone else was.

They all seemed to be none the wiser, chatting away with you like nothing happened and you slowly felt yourself start to relax again in everyone’s company.

Mason didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Making sure you always had a drink in your hand or grabbing you snacks when you needed them and before long it was almost midnight.

‘I’m just going to the loo’ you told Mason, trying to peel your hand out of his as he seemed insistent on going with you but eventually he gave in. Letting you go by yourself but as soon as you were done and went to leave you were confronted by the person you wanted to see least.

Miaya was standing outside the bathroom door, waiting for you it seemed, as she didn’t look shocked to see you there and barely gave you a second before she started to speak.

‘Hi y/n, sorry I was hoping to catch you. Can we talk?’

‘Oh i um-‘

‘Please, it’ll only be a second. I really want to apologise’ she told you, her face full of remorse so you nodded your head into Ben's utility room for a little privacy. Thankfully she followed but didn’t give you a chance to speak once you were alone. ‘I just wanted to say I’m so sorry for earlier. What she said was awful and I should have stopped her or stepped in and I’m just so sorry if I upset you’

You didn’t want to say it was okay because it wasn’t so you stood playing with your fingers as you weren’t quite sure what to do. You’d never been that confrontational so this situation right now was a tough one for you but thankfully she kept talking.

‘I’d hate for you to think I’m a horrible person, cause I’m really not. And I really care about Ben so much so this whole situation is just a bit shit cause I really wanted you to like me’ she laughed, but you could hear the tears in her voice and when you looked up you could see them burning in her eyes. ‘I don’t even know why I didn’t say anything. I know what she’s like so maybe I’m just used to it but that’s no excuse I’m so sorry y/n’

‘Come on, don’t get upset’ you reasoned, reaching out to hold her shoulder to let you know she’d be fine as in all honesty you didn’t think she was a bad person. She’d just got caught up in the moment but you could tell she was really sorry now. ‘We all make mistakes’

‘I’ll make it up to you I promise’

‘It’s fine let’s just move on yeah? Start fresh with the new year and all that’

‘I see why Mason loves you’ she laughed, wiping her eyes as she sent you a kind smile. ‘Thank you’

‘Come on, Mason will think I’m stuck on the loo if I’m any longer’ you laughed, both walking back into the main room where Mason's eyes found you immediately. Bundling you into his arms so he could kiss your head gently.

Your legs were tired and your back ached but Ben had arranged for some fireworks to go off as the clock struck 12 so Mason stuffed you into his coat and took you outside with everyone else. You were pleased to find Ollie and Tilly running around filled with excitement before sitting down with Ben and Miaya who sent the pair of you a wink. Letting you know he had them and to enjoy yourselves a bit and you smiled as Tilly sat with Miaya as they chatted away.

‘Any New Year’s resolutions?’ You asked Mason, resting your hands on his chest and he’s wrapped his around your waist and his cheeky smile let you know he wasn’t about to be serious.

‘A few, there’s one I really want to stick to’

‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’

‘Remind you how much I love you every single day’ he told you sincerely before pressing a kiss to your nose.

‘You already do that’ you laughed, hiding your face out of embarrassment but he just used this as an excuse to attack anywhere he could with kisses.

‘Well I wanna do it more. The fact that you actually believed what that twat said about you earlier proves to me I don't tell you enough. If I did then you would have never believed them’

‘It's just getting to that stage you know? I’m tired and I ache and I look like a beached whale-‘

‘Stop that’ he laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you heard everyone start to count down from ten. Joining in as you looked into Masons eyes and after screaming happy new year into the air you reached up to plant your lips on Masons.

The fireworks in the sky were no match for the ones on your tummy. Both smiling onto each other's lips and you slowly brushed them together and it’s like you could feel his love filling you to the brim. Your fingers and toes curling as your skin tingled and it's like the whole world faded into the background. You couldn’t hear or see or feel anything other than your man and far too quickly he was pulling away from you. Resting his forehead on yours as you smiled at each other shyly.

‘Happy new year gorgeous’ he whispered but before you could reply, the sound of Tilly’s shouts as she bounded over to you broke you apart and Mason was just quick enough to grab her and pull her up into his arms.

‘Happy new year baby’ Mason told her, you both kissing her cheeks as she giggled adorably before you turned, looking out for Ollie. Watching him come over with a bright smile and you pulled him in for a big squeeze and your heart thudded as he reciprocated.

‘Happy new year, Ollie’

‘Happy new year mum’ he told you softly, pulling back so you could both cuddle back into the other two.

‘This time next year we’ll have someone else with us’ Mason smiled, reaching out to touch your bump carefully. ‘Maybe next year we’ll keep it to us six, yeah? Us, Nala and the new baby?’

‘Sounds perfect’ you laughed. Already picturing you all bundled up together in bed and the thought made your eyes sting.

Soon enough it was time to do the rounds, hugging everyone you could and wishing them a happy new year but you could tell Ollie and Tilly had crashed and were on the verge of falling asleep so you all snuck off to put them to bed before they passed out downstairs.

The pair of you weren’t up too much longer. Spending a little more time downstairs with everyone else but the party was dying out with everyone taking their kids home and your legs were killing you so Mason helped you up to your room for the night. Getting you ready for bed before sliding in next to you and with a soft and loving kiss to your lips you both fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, no sign of the kids or Mason but before you could question it the latter walked back in the room. Hair messy from sleep and you could tell he hadn’t been awake long but the lazy smile he sent your way made your heart thud.

‘Good morning beautiful’ he yawned, pulling back the covers and sliding himself back in next to you before his hand made contact with your bump and you felt the baby kick ever so slightly. ‘Good morning to you too little one’

‘Morning Mase, where are the kids?’

‘Chilly’s taken them out for breakfast and a run about in the park with Miaya, said he’d give us a bit of a break this morning’

‘Oh that’s kind of them’

‘Yeah he comes in handy sometimes’ he laughed, pulling you as close as he could so he could rub his nose against yours and you smiled at how soft he was being with you. ‘You okay mumma?’

‘I’m okay, Mase’

‘You sure?’ He whispered, kissing your cheeks. ‘Cause I’d hate for you to be thinking about what that girl said yesterday still, and I know you are’

You cursed him internally for knowing you so well. Truth be told their words had been playing on your mind as much as you tried not to let it show they’d made you feel more insecure than you ever had.

‘Well it hurt’ you whispered, trying to keep your tone flat as you didn’t want to cry in front of him again but he could clearly read you like an open book.

‘I know baby, but you know they were talking absolute shite’ he whispered. ‘You’re absolutely everything to me, I mean it’ he told you and when you tried to laugh him off he tilted your face up so he could let you know he was serious. ‘Its true. You are the most important person in my life by far and I genuinely wouldn’t be able to carry on without you. And it’s not just because you’re the mother of my children and you take care of all of us but you’re my girl, you know? Even without all that you’d still be mine and I’d still love you just as much’

‘Oh Mase’ you sighed, tears welling in your eyes at his sweet words but he was shaking his head at you lightly.

‘No tears baby, we can’t start a new year with you blubbering’ he joked, causing you to roll your eyes as the tears fell faster down your face. ‘Your mine okay? And I’m so fucking proud to call you that so please don’t ever think any differently’

‘I know, I’m so sorry’

‘Stop saying sorry’ he laughed, rolling you onto your back slightly so he could hover over you a bit and you melted as he stroked your cheek gently. ‘You wanna just head straight home today? My parents will understand if you’re not up for it’

‘No not at all, I want to see them. And we need to get Nala anyway’

‘Well we’ll leave whenever you want’

‘Mase I’ll be fine’ you laughed, your hand touching his forearm that was resting on your chest as bright smiles lit up both your faces. ‘I love you so much’

‘I love you too’ he breathed, a shy smile taking over his face. ‘I can’t believe I was lucky enough to get to spend another whole year with you’

‘Play your cards right and I might let you have another’ you winked. Reaching up to cup the back of his neck so you could pull him down into a heated kiss.

‘We should use this alone time to our advantage’ he whispered against your lips, hooking his leg around yours so he could part them and you couldn't help but chuckle into his mouth.

‘You are so predictable Mr Mount’

‘Would you have me any other way?’

‘No, not at all’ you giggled, sighing in bliss as he trapped your bottom lip between his teeth and carefully moved your underwear to the side so he had access to you.

‘I’ll be careful, okay? And just tell me if you’re uncomfortable’

‘Okay’ you nodded, a breathy moan falling from your lips as his fingers made contact with your clit and the slow circles he was rubbing into you felt like heaven.

‘That alright sweetheart?’

‘Mhmmm’ you breathed, your whole body relaxing instantly at his touch as a shiver ran down your spine.

In the beginning when you were pregnant with Ollie, you weren’t sure how you felt about having sex with Mason while you were pregnant. Wondering if it would feel like there was another person in the room with you but with Mason struggling to keep his hands away from you and your hormones always sending you into a spiral you couldn’t resist. Loving how extra soft and gentle he was with you and right now was no different. Fingers lightly tracing your folds as he kissed you before pulling back to look in your eyes.

‘You’re so beautiful, you know that? All full of me’ he breathed. ‘Gonna make you feel so good’

‘Please Masey’ you begged, your need to feel him making every other thought leave your brain and when he flashed you his cheeky smile you wanted to kiss it off his face.

‘I got you love, it’s okay’ he told you, his hands moving to hold your hips and with a gentle push you knew exactly where he wanted you. ‘roll onto your side for me’

During your first pregnancy Mason turned into a very keen reader. Wanting to know the ins and outs of what the pair of you were about to go through and the most comfortable sex position was one of the first things he looked into. You’d tried a few but as you got bigger the only one that ever worked for you was when you laid on your side and he spooned you but the only issue was you couldn’t look at him as much as you would have liked to.

He made up for it though, pressing gentle kisses to every part of your skin he could access and when you finally felt him pressing against you you shuddered in delight.

‘That’s it baby’ he whispered, getting into a steady rhythm but not going too hard. ‘How’s that?’

‘So good’ you breathed. Hands fisting the sheets as his were all over you and you moaned louder when he hooked your leg up slightly to have more access to you. ‘Faster please, Mase’

You felt him speed up just a touch but you knew he didn’t want to go too overboard with you. In his eyes he needed to be gentle with you, to make love to you, and you couldn’t feel more taken care of if you tried.

You could feel your high building steadily, wanting nothing more than to look at him so you tipped your head back slightly. Yours eyes looking straight into his and the soft smile on his lips made you melt.

‘Mase I’m so close’

‘I am too gorgeous, let go for me’ he whispered into your hair and that was all it took for you to reach your high. The warmth of his body pressed against yours making it feel that much more intense and when you were both finally done you just laid there content in each other's arms. ‘Happy new year to us’ Mason laughed, tucking you side gently and you tried your best to turn so you could give him a quick peck on the lips.

‘Happy new year, Mase’

[izvmimi]

cw: implied sex and references thereof but no smut in this fic. fluff. silly terminology. love confession.

If Suo were awake, and if ever you were more honest about your feelings, you'd joke that post-nut clarity came to you, not moments after sex but the morning after, where the crack of your eyelids brought you his sleeping visage before anything else.

And in that moment, you realized you loved him. Not love as in adored or appreciated, but in the way that makes your heart rend at the thought of being apart too long or at his furtive glance being directed away from you to another.

It's not the first time you've slept together, and by God, it won't be the last, but it's the first time you've woken up first, watching him in the perfect peace of slumber, motionless and beautiful, as he lays, facing in your direction. Something about this vulnerability overwhelms you - Suo is never one to be caught off guard, but you can tell that he has no reason to heighten his guard against you, even if you've fought him off emotionally as long as you have.

Perhaps he'd always known there would be this very moment, your hand reaching out towards his face to caress it before you even think of what you're doing. Your fingers graze gently against the curve of his cheek, and he leans into it.

He's not asleep.

"Suo..." you start, then stop, wondering why you're calling his name in the first place.

He hasn't opened his eye yet, but he kisses the palm of your hand, and then shimmies closer, an action that might be too cute for his sweet but somewhat serious presence.

"Morning," he offers in a gentle voice before he's grinning, warming you with his gentle brown gaze. His hand mirrors yours then he lets his nose affectionately tap against your forehead. No kisses yet, not until you've both freshened up.

"Thank you for staying," he says. He always thanks you this way, as if you'd be so foolish as to disappear in the middle of the night.

But you could if you wanted to. Suo knows that anything you give him is fully and totally of your own volition, and stresses that always.

You move closer, and he pulls your leg gently so that it drapes over his hip. Your cheeks warm, and he grins, knowing he's got you flustered already.

It's too early in the morning for this.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks.

You sleep well every night you're with him, you want to admit, but instead you nod.

Moments pass, and then you add something else. "You know, I realized something." 

Interest piqued, Suo raises his eyebrows, his fingers tapping gently at the curve of your thigh.

"What?"

"A little bit of post-nut clarity if you will," you say out loud. He blinks at you for a second, then laughs, as you expected. It's funny to think that at one point you worried about being too vulgar for him, but he's always far less unrefined than you think.

He surprises you constantly.

"I’m glad to hear that. Grace me with your new wisdom, my love," he replies. A laugh coming from you yourself, you smile at him.

"I really, really love you."

It’s practically a grenade you’ve lobbed at him; he pauses, and you can see the ghost of a blush, gone as fast as the wisp of a firefly before he answers in stride.

"I sure hope so, unless this would all be very awkward." He shifts slightly, and the devious fox smile returns, but you press on, not allowing him to let him keep his feelings at the surface.

For someone so sure of himself, he's too often playful and light; you want to let him feel something deep for once, let what lays in murky water rise to the surface, unafraid of what it will reveal. You cup his cheek again, and look at him carefully, making sure it's clear that you mean it from the bottom of your heart, the pit of your belly.

"I love you, Suo. I want this... and I want it again and I want it more, and I think I might want it for as long as I can foresee."

You can hear his breathing stop for a moment.

He expected you to say it - that you loved him, one day - but he never expected to say it first.

Beaming, he rolls over so that he's on top of you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

"I love you too."

Another peck to your eyelids, then he nuzzles into your neck.

"Would you like to see what else post nut clarity can show us?" he asks, using your own terminology. You giggle and slip a pillow in between your faces, with your voice muffled through,

"We have places to be!"

He pulls the pillow off of you and grins. "Fine," he agrees as he stretches out his hand to raise you up out of bed.

But his smile isn't the fox smile anymore; it's his true smile, and his love for you is clear as the blue sky.

[rafetopia]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

- 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

pairing: virgin!pope heyward x virgin!fem!reader

genre: soft smut and lots of fluff

words: ~3.8k

warnings: outdoor sex (on a roof), protected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, loss of virginity, mentions of food and alcohol

summary: a date night on the roof and a love confession lead to your first night with your boyfriend

It was a beautiful Saturday night, the sky was clear making all the beautiful stars visible to those who wished to look at them. There was a fresh breeze dancing through the late summer air. It was a quiet night, scattered seagulls were singing in the distance, mixed with the sound waves crashing softly onto the shore.

You were sitting on the roof of “Heyward’s Seafood”, together with Pope, your boyfriend. The two of you had only started dating recently, which added to the slight nervousness you were feeling in your stomach. This obviously wasn’t your first date and yet, something felt different tonight. He was going all out since his parents weren't home tonight. It was their 21st anniversary and like every single year before, Heyward took his wife out for dinner and dancing. Pope had been in charge of closing the store and as soon as he was done, he had invited you to date night on the shop's roof. He knew how much you loved watching the stars at night, it had been your favorite thing to do since you were a little girl.

He had spread out blankets and even made you pasta, your favorite food. Well, all he had to do was cook pasta, roast pine nuts, drown them in pesto, and put some parmesan cheese on top and it still took the best of him. But even after almost dropping the pesto and burning the pine nuts, he still managed to make everything look and taste just as you loved it the most (minus the over-salted penne but you let that one slide because it’s Pope). He even got you that cheap wine you were always dragging around with you when you were hanging out with him and his friends because you knew all they were drinking was beer. JJ used to laugh at you for that, but after multiple smacks to his head by not only Pope but also Sarah, he quickly learned to shut up about your drinking preferences. Pope also knew what a sweet tooth you had, which was why he knew he couldn't miss dessert. He had stored some ice cream in the freezer box, which he had hurled up the tiny ladder. He almost have fallen back down if it wasn't for JJ, who had helped him prepare everything last minute.

“How does it taste? And be honest please, I can handle it.” He asked, his left eyebrow rising as he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You took a second to finish chewing and swallowing but you didn’t need long to think of an answer. “It’s perfect, baby. I love how you made the pine nuts extra roasty.” You smiled genuinely, but Pope seemed to capture your response more critically than you intended.

“I burned them, didn’t I?” He said, all excitement leaving his voice. “I’m so sorry, I knew I should have made new ones…”

“No, no!” You exclaimed as you stuffed the last few noodles into your mouth. “I said they’re perfect, Pope and you know, I never lie.” You smiled, while you tried to chew your food down as fast as possible. “They are way better than when my dad does them.” You added, before taking the empty plate out of his hands and crawling onto his lab.

“I guess that does mean something, considering your dad is a chef at the country club.” He smiled, almost believing you.

“See.” You giggled, as you softly wiped away the stain of red pesto left on his upper lip. “He always takes them out of the pan way too early, you can barely taste that they are supposed to be roasted.”

For normal people, that would have been a lie, because no one on that island was able to cook as well as your dad did, but for your taste buds, they were always way too mild.

He smiled at your statement, even though he knew he kinda fucked up a little bit. But to his advantage, your mind didn’t stay long with the pasta because as soon as you saw the box, something else crossed your mind immediately.

“Baby, what’s in there?” Your eyes lit up as you saw the smile crawling over his lips, knowing exactly what that meant. He knew how much you loved Ice Cream and since everything was (almost) perfect tonight, you knew what must be in there.

You knew you were right when he opened the box and pulled out a box of ice cream and two spoons. “You know I set all this up, so we could watch the stars together and now you’re sitting with your back to them.” He chuckled, softly as he guided a spoon full of Ice cream to your mouth.

“First of all, I can see them behind you, and second of all, you are way prettier than the stars.”

He tried to hide a smile but he was so flustered, it was hard for him. He loved receiving compliments from you but still, he wasn’t very used to them. You loved seeing him like this, you loved getting his cheeks all hot and flustered, it made you giggle and sent even more butterflies through your core.

You took a sip of your wine, that he had even filled into a wine glass. You didn't even know he knew what a wine glass looked like and he probably didn’t and just took the weirdest looking glass in the cabinet but you were still surprised. You were even more surprised that he decided to drink wine with you tonight, knowing he would get teased endlessly for it if his friends saw him. You appreciated what he did for you tonight, so much that you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He always looked pretty but tonight it was different. He was dressed in a black shirt and some black basketball shorts, a look he knew was killing you. You were obsessed with him dressed all in black and you knew exactly that was why he chose this particular outfit tonight.

The two of you kept rambling on about whatever came to your mind while slowly but surely emptying that box of Ice Cream. Well, in the end, it was you who ate most of it, since Pope was the one who did most of the talking. You couldn’t help but smile at every single thing he said, no matter how boring you would normally think the topics were. After a while he stopped talking, as he looked at your smiling face, wondering what it could be that amused you so much.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. You noticed how unsure he got, a normal thing for him when he caught himself talking without a break. “Am I talking too much? I’m talking too much…”

“No, no!” You chuckled, giving him a reassuring smile. “You know I could listen to you for hours.”

You looked down into the no empty Ice Cream box, the feeling of guilt rushing over your face, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I mostly got this for you.” He smiled softly, knowing you would feel bad anyway. “Really baby, you know I don't even like strawberries that much.”

“True.” You chuckled, as leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

He quickly retorted the kiss, putting the empty box away, before placing his hands on your waist. The kiss started slow and sweet but quickly turned more passionate as you felt the wine circulating through your veins, giving you the courage to let your hand travel down to his pants, where your hand started massaging his growing bulge. Quiet moans escaped his lips, as your hand slipped into his pants, and quickly the two of you noticed that night, might be night where you went all the way to the end. When you started dating, you quickly found out and neither of you was very experienced in that matter, which made you decide to wait a little bit. There had been many times where you thought this was the night but you always ended up stopping before the actual act. This time felt different though. His hands had wandered under your dress by now, where he quickly noticed the lack of fabric that came with you only wearing a lace thong.

You smirked as you felt his dick twitching under your touch, combined with the sweet moans escaping his beautiful lips. His hands were now wandering up to your tits, where he once again was met with the lack of fabric. You heard a quiet “damn” escaping his lips, as his thumbs traced over your nipples. You let your head fall back as his lips traveled over your neck, kissing every single inch of your skin. You tried to control your moans but the sensation from his thumbs on your nipples and his tongue on your neck was too much for you to stay quiet.

“Baby…” You whispered, your hands finding their way back inside his pants.

“I know.” He mumbled between his kisses, before turning his attention back to your mouth.

Before he could do anything, you had pushed your tongue inside him, not caring to wait for him to take the lead. You gently slid under his pants, so you were holding his hard dick in your hands. You slowly let your hand wander up and down, while your thumb brushed over his tip. You knew how much he loved it when you did that, his twitching erection being the proof. His right hand was now sliding down to your thong, where he laid his finger on your soaking, but still covered clit. This wasn't the first time he made you wet like that but it was the first time you thought it might lead to more. You needed more of him and as if he could read your thoughts, he gently pushed the fabric to the side, before placing his finger back on your clit.

The sudden feeling of direct skin contact, made you moan out loud even louder. He noticed how needy you grew, so you let his fingers trace over your entrance, causing you to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I…?” He asked carefully, not being sure if he was going too fast.

“Please.” You whispered, nodding in support of your answer.

He was so gentle as he let his fingers slide inside you. You were already soaking wet but he was so scared of hurting you that he took them back out just to spit on them. You didn’t expect him to do something like that but it only made you want him more. He gently pushed them back inside, causing you to gasp out in pleasure. You shot him an assuring smile before leaning back in for a kiss. You let your hand slide up and down his length while he pushed his fingers back and forth into your core. He started slow but soon began to match your movements, which made it very hard for you to concentrate.

“Pope…” You whispered, “I… I love you.”

He stopped and looked at you, eyes widened in surprise and you were just as surprised as he was. “I…” You stumbled, but he placed his index finger under your chin and guided it up, so you’d look him in the eyes.

“I love you too.” He smiled. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you moved here.”

“But Pope, that was in third grade.” You chuckled, now your eyes were filled with surprise.

“I know.”

This was enough to send you over the edge. You smashed your lips back into his, without leaving him any room to breathe. After what felt like hours, you stopped. “I’m ready. Need to feel you inside me.” You whispered.

He stopped his movements as the excitement rushed all over him. “You sure?”

"Absolutely." You smiled, “If you are.”

“100%!” He exclaimed. “But I don’t… JJ gave me one but It’s downstairs… I think.” He mumbled, earning nothing but a smile from you.

You leaned in for a kiss and whispered: “Pocket inside my bag.”

Pope internally smiled at the way you were always prepared for everything. It was one of the reasons he was so in love with you. He gently pulled your dress over your head, leaving you all exposed in front of him. He took a second to admire your beauty before you pulled off his shirt. You too, needed a second to take him in. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him like this before, you did countless times at the beach but you fell in love with him all over again every time.

“God you’re so pretty.” You mumbled, leaving him all shy and flustered.

“I believe that’s my line, baby.”

“But you’re pretty too.” You giggled.

He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss, while his hands wandered from your waist down to your ass. Your hands were placed on his soft-toned chest, feeling his muscles playing beneath his skin. You were still sitting on top of him, so he signaled you to get up, for him to be able to pull off his pants. Once they were off, he told you to lie down and climbed on top of you. You pulled him in for more kisses, while his hand wandered down to your thong. He easily let his fingers slide under the fabric, his touch sending goosebumps all over your skin. He let his thumb dance over your clit, while his index finger slid inside. You let out a loud moan, leaving a smirk all over his face. It quickly turned into an expression of slight embarrassment, as he remembered where the two of you were at.

"What's wrong?” You asked slightly confused.

“Nothing baby, it's just… what if anyone hears us?”

“Then let them hear us.” You giggled, “But I can try to be more quiet if you want.”

“You know what? No.” He grinned, the thought of other people hearing how good he made you feel suddenly turned him on more than he thought.

And he did make you feel very, very good. The thought of actually being vulnerable like that for someone had always freaked you out a little bit but with him it was different. He made you nervous but not in a bad way. You were nervous indeed, but it was more exciting than anything else.

The deeper his fingers dug inside you, the more you wanted him. Your left hand was placed on his shoulder, while your right one was looking for your bag. You grabbed it and pulled out a tiny colorful package.

“Are you ready?” You asked, earning a nod from your boyfriend.

“Are you?”

“Hmm… I think so?” You answered, more unsure than sure.

“I uhmm… I can…” He stuttered, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

With that, he went down but not without covering your body in kisses, causing you to giggle at the sensation. The moment his tongue met your folds, your giggle turned into moans. You had never felt this way before, as he had never used his tongue on you before. He struggled at first, not really knowing what to do but the louder your moans got, the more confident he became. Pope had always been a quick learner so it didn't take long until he had figured it out. He twisted his tongue inside, hitting exactly where you needed him to hit. He even added his thumb to your clit for support- causing you to see stars even though you had closed your eyes.

You felt something in you tighten, it was unfamiliar but it felt so good and it got only stronger the faster and more eager he got. Before you knew it, your high rushed over you, causing you to almost scream his name into the night. Your angled legs slid down next to his, as you desperately tried to contain your voice. Your hands that were tangled in his hair cramped together, sending a slight pain through his head but in this moment, Pope would’ve rather died than stopping you in any way. He looked up at you, trying to get a quick glance at you since he had never seen a girl orgasm before, at least not outside of the internet and most definitely not caused by himself. He was so amazed by your beauty, that he didn’t realize he was still staring once you opened your eyes again.

“What?” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “Did you just watch me? Oh my god, how embarrassing.” You mumbled as you felt your cheeks turning all hot.

“You are so damn beautiful, you have no idea.” He said, his fingers softly caressing over your thighs. “This was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Then you really should look into the mirror more often, pretty boy.” You grinned, before signaling him to come closer and kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips and to your surprise, it was better than you had always imagined. “I think now I'm ready.” You giggled, as you let your hand travel down to his underwear.

You let your hand slide under the fabric, where you quickly felt him harden under your touch. You handed him the condom and he removed his boxers. You were sitting next to him, preparing the extra blanket he had brought, while he tried to roll over the condom, struggling.

“Here, let me help you.” You said, as you led your hand slide over his length, up and down until he was more than ready. Pope’s mind had already drifted back to pleasure land, but you were able to roll it over with ease. You laid yourself back on the blanket, as he crawled on top of you. You swung the other blanket over him, which earned you an appreciative “thank you” from your boyfriend. You spread your legs as he was looking to push it in but you both soon found out that it was actually way easier if you guided him.

The moment he slid inside you, you both let out a moan, almost synchronized. It did hurt a little bit though, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. “We can stop if it hurts, I’ll stop.”

“No.” You whispered, “It does hurt a little bit but I’m sure it will stop soon. You did good preparation work.” You smirked, causing him to smile himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say it okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You smiled, before pulling him in for a soft kiss.

He slowly continued his movements, careful not to hurt you. He enjoyed every second of it but couldn't get the thought out of his head that it might not feel the same for you. He got convinced quickly though, when your hands traveled down his back, nails digging deep into his skin, so deep that he was sure it would be visible tomorrow morning.

“Just like that, baby.” You moaned out, “You can even go faster if you want, it doesn't hurt anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes baby, please.”

With that, he sped up his pace, still careful but faster than before. He was close to you, legs angled and face over yours, because there wasn't a second where he didn’t want to look into your eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, which you retorted quickly, while you wrapped your legs around his torso, pushing the blanket off him in the process. You would’ve been sorry but you needed him to be as close as possible to you and judging by the sweat on his skin, he didn’t seem to mind much. With your newfound position, you were able to push him even deeper into you, a fact both of you welcomed very much. As his movements got faster, your moans got louder and he soon realized that he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Your nails dug deeper into his skin and he wanted to hold out longer for you but it grew harder and harder for him to do so. Especially as soon as you moved your lips to his neck, which almost sent him over the edge.

“Faster baby, can you go faster?” You moaned out, to which he sped up his movements.

“Fuck…” He whispered, and soon after, his orgasm washed over him.

He sounded so beautiful, as he moaned into your ear, so loudly, that you were sure someone must've heard the two of you. As soon as he felt like himself again, he collapsed on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your body, and laid his head on your chest, perfect for you to straddle his head. You loved tracing your fingers through his locks, and he did as well since it always helped him calm down. You were somehow able to grab the blanket that you had lost earlier, so you covered the two of you with it. Your fingers went back to straddling his head, and before you knew it your eyes fell shut. You both were tired, so tired that you were pretty sure you both fell asleep for a few minutes. As soon as your eyes were met with the beautiful night sky once again, you tried to wake up your sleepy boyfriend.

“Pope baby, wake up.”

“Hmm, too comfy.” He mumbled, and you were pretty sure he fell back asleep right after.

“Baby, you are still wearing the condom, we need to get cleaned up.” You chuckled, as you tried to keep yourself awake. “I don't want it to get lost in me.” You added, as you once again tried to shake him awake, less gently this time.

“Hmm, am wake.” He mumbled as he lifted his head.

“Careful, baby.”

He carefully sat himself up and pulled out of you. To your surprise, everything went over smoothly and you were able to get up without leaving behind a mess. He wrapped it up in some tissue and the two of you got dressed.

“I’m pretty sure my parents are back by now.” He said as you gathered all the things he brought on the roof.

“If so, they probably heard us. And if that’s the case I’ll never be able to look them in the eyes ever again.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yep.”

You were lucky, Heward's truck wasn’t there yet when they climbed down the roof. The two of you put everything away. When you fell into bed a few minutes later, he pulled his arm around you so you could snuggle your head onto his body. You both fell asleep within seconds but more connected and in love with each other, than ever before.

add yourself to my obx tag list here

[stellari-s]

Omfg ithaqua centric tumblrs exist/j

I don't know I'd your still doing requests but can I request ithaqua with a reader who's rlly sweet and nice and everything, but the manor did like a swap with the survivors and hunters so that the hunters are the ones that run from the survivors and when Reader is picked they go NUTS. Like everyone's out and injured in like 2 minutes. After the event reader goes back to normal but if people look closely, Reader's picked up a bit of a hunger for blood sometimes...

✨

haha, ikr, and gosh, i’m really slow, i hope you’ll forgive me! but i will try my best with your request! i don’t end up describing the details of the match much rather than implying what happened, so i hope that’s ok.

request; yes, by anon! requests are currently closed, but my commissions are open if you’re interested.

wc; 945.

tags; default! ithaqua, gn! survivor! reader (who becomes hunter), reader treats ithaqua’s injuries.

summary; miss nightingale had come with a sudden announcement — survivors and hunters were going to switch places! and so, you are put into a match with ithaqua as the last one standing…

this very day was like a fever dream — but would it be a dream if one could see a subtle, yet irreversible change?

“a switch?”

ithaqua stayed silent, but he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. though he said little, his feelings reflected that of everyone else’s in the room where miss nightingale had gathered all the hunters on a whim to make the very announcement of a role switch. he honestly harbored mixed feelings on the prospect of being the one chased, rather than the one doing the chasing, but more than that...

he thought back to a certain face among the survivors. a seemingly innocent face, whose kindness knew no bounds. would they be up for the task, he wondered?

robbie’s enthusiastic voice dragged ithaqua from his thoughts back into reality.

“oh oh, does this mean we get to play something like reverse tag?”

“seems like it,” ithaqua muttered in reply.

miss nightingale nodded once everyone had settled down (or, displayed some semblance of having settled down). “i’m glad we are on the same page. gather in lakeside in one hour if you are called upon, and take care not to be late.”

when miss nightingale left, murmurs immediately broke out among the hunters.

...there really is something off with her. i don’t like it.

nonetheless, ithaqua had no right to refuse; he could only sigh and wait for an hour to pass.

“survivors will become the hunters?”

this was news to you. what in the world could have brought on this change in the manor owner’s heart?

...not that you could really understand him. in fact, many things in the manor had been intriguing.

little things piqued your interest, and whispered rumors became a source of curiosity.

“i’m not sure i feel comfortable facing against hunters... as a hunter,” helena said, “wouldn’t you agree, (y/n)?”

“hm?” you looked at helena, who had a resigned smile on her lips.

i suppose it would be difficult for her, considering she can’t see. then again, she has a cane, so maybe she’s fine, and her personality is just too kind?

some survivors were fit to be a hunter, but helena was not one of them. it wasn’t a bad thing; it simply wasn’t her strength.

you flashed her a gentle smile of your own. “it is definitely a sudden development. i can understand the difficulty in processing it.”

you neither confirmed nor denied it.

—— 20 minutes later.

there was only one hunter left now: ithaqua.

you had noticed this in previous matches against him when he was hunter, but even with those stilts that looked so easy to trip in, ithaqua was very quick on his feet. there was clearly a lot of skill in maneuvering around with those.

you would spot him, and you would chase after him, only for him to slip between your fingers like locks of hair.

while his appearance resembled that of a supernatural creature to be feared, you found through spending time with him outside of matches that he was not a bad person. in fact, he was quite nice behind that colder facade.

if it were other survivors, they would probably be more cautious around ithaqua.

finally, you caught up to him in the small boat in lakeside village. “you’re the only one left standing, ithaqua,” you said, “yet you won’t surrender. do you think two hours will pass before i can catch you?”

ithaqua chuckled. “i’ll take your words as a compliment.”

“as they are meant to be. but i think two hours is quite a long time, so will you allow me to catch you before then?”

“if you’re going to catch me, do it with your own abilities.”

you shrugged, a resigned smile playing on your lips. “i suppose it can’t be helped then.”

it turned out you didn’t need him to “allow” you.

after the match, which had lasted around half an hour total, ithaqua hissed a little in pain as you wrapped the bandage around his arm, where he had cut himself.

“would it hurt to be a little more gentle treating my wound?”

“oh, don’t you know? it’s better to wrap the gauze more tightly. i do sincerely apologize for the... slightly rough handling toward the end of the match though. so please just think of this as repayment.”

ithaqua fell silent. this was one of the rare times he had his mask off, so you could see his eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed as he averted his pale blue eyes.

“what’s wrong?” you waved a hand in front of him.

“i don’t know. but is it just me or do you just look... a little different?”

“hm?”

he turned to look at you for a brief moment before retracting his arm. “it’s nothing. thanks for treating my arm.”

ithaqua stood up and tried to walk out of the room, but you called after him as his hand made contact with the knob.

“hey, ithaqua.”

he stood in frozen in place like a statue, as if contemplating whether or not he should turn out. in the end, he stayed still as he replied, “what?”

though he wouldn’t be able to see it, you flashed a smile his way.

“i look forward to the next match.”

you could have sworn you saw his shoulders twitch slightly upon hearing your words. he then turned around (to your surprise) and, with a sharp tone, shouted “well i don’t!” before shutting the door behind him.

you couldn’t help but let out a lighthearted laugh — he kind of reminded you of a cat.

a cat surely worth chasing, you reckoned.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [2]

Part Two | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Merle Dixon being Merle Dixon, Shane Walsh isn’t great either tbh

Word Count: 1K

Author’s Note: So it's been a hot second (writer's block is a bitch), but I really love this idea and apparently a lot of you guys do too! Thanks for all the love on the first part, all the comments and reblogs have meant the world to me. I really cannot believe how well the first part of this fic was received lol. Let me know what you guys think of this one, if you want to be added to the taglist, or just want to ask me a question.

Extras: Playlist

Daryl is, if anything, a man of his word. He agreed that he’d stay the hell away from Shane’s girl, so that’s exactly what he did. It wasn’t difficult; he is almost always on a hunting trip to keep the ragtag group of survivors fed and when he isn’t, Daryl can be found in his tent taking care of his crossbow and bolts. And since Merle hasn’t spoken a word to you since the little incident in camp, your path just hasn’t crossed his.

That is until his crossbow bolts go missing one morning. 

Daryl rips his tent apart in an attempt to find his missing arrows. A steady stream of expletives escape his mouth as he shuffles through Merle’s belongings, hoping that his older brother just so happened to take his bolts and stash them with his possessions -- it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Merle took something of his and claimed it as his own. 

After about thirty minutes, Daryl lets out a frustrated sigh. If his bolts aren’t in here, that means someone in camp took them and that could lead to some issues. After the incident with you and Merle, Daryl hasn’t just kept his distance from you -- Daryl has isolated himself further from everyone at the makeshift camp. 

He’s not an idiot and he picked up on everyone’s apprehension in respect to the Dixon brothers since the first few days in camp. That seems to have only gotten worse after Merle’s decision to make a scene in the middle of camp. It doesn’t seem to bother the older Dixon brother; however, Daryl cannot stand how many eyes seem to focus on him whenever he makes an appearance in camp nowadays. Because of this, Daryl has made his trips to camp scarce -- only making his way there to drop off more provisions and supplies. He keeps his head down, he doesn’t speak to anyone, and he doesn’t cause problems.

However, Daryl does take the time to observe the camp and its occupants whenever he’s there. He takes mental notes of who casts him concerned looks. Lori and Carol will stop scrubbing laundry and round up their children every time they see him make his way to the RV. He notices Dale’s eyes narrow every time he enters the RV and how he races to check all of their supplies as soon as he’s stepped foot out of the vehicle. As opposed to popular belief, Daryl has never taken anything from the RV; however, he has left his fair share of scavenged nuts and berries and a handful of animal carcasses in order to keep the camp fed. He’s painfully aware of Shane glaring at him from atop Dale’s RV. He tries to ignore it, but he can’t help the way that it makes his skin crawl. And, against his better judgment, he finds himself keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, but, as time has passed, he’s found his curiosity towards you shifting into what Daryl can only describe as protectiveness.

And that’s how Daryl finds himself awkwardly walking up to you as you scrub laundry against a washboard. You don’t seem to notice his presence as he approaches. He shifts on feet before clearing his throat, in an attempt to grab your attention. Your head shoots up and your eyes widen as they spot him standing in front of you. Daryl is prepared to turn heel and run in the other direction based on your reaction until a smile spreads across your face. You push your hair out of your eyes and drop the laundry in your hands into the basin in front of you before speaking. 

“Hey, Daryl. What’s up?”

“Ya know if Shane’s around?”

You move your head to look left, then right. Your eyes scan the camp before they land back on Daryl. You shrug your shoulders.

“Don’t know. I’m not his keeper.” 

Daryl releases a breath through his nose at your words. It’s the closest anyone in camp has come to making Daryl Dixon laugh as far as you know and it fills you with pride. You wipe your hands on your jeans and stand up from your position over the basin.

“I may not be Shane, but I might be able to help you.”

“Somebody took my crossbow bolts. Couldn’t find ‘em this mornin’.”

You immediately turn and start walking toward the RV. Shane had told you he was busy this morning with ‘inventory’ this morning. He already took your knife and pistol this morning, so you wouldn’t be surprised if you also found Daryl’s arrows. You explain this to Daryl as he walks behind you. If Merle was here, he’d be laughing at the younger Dixon brother. 

‘I leave you alone and you’re already following ‘er around like a lost puppy dog, little brother?’  

Daryl tries to shake off Merle’s voice echoing in his mind. He watches as you enter the RV and waits as he hears you rustling through the supplies. A few moments later you emerge with a handful of crossbow bolts. 

“I take it these are yours?”

Daryl nods and mumbles a quick thank you as he takes the arrows from you. He quickly counts them, ensuring that he’s gotten all of his property back.

“Do you make them yourself?”

He nods his head again, eyes still focused on the bolts in his hands.

“Could you show me sometime?”

Daryl looks up at you, his head cocked to the side slightly. He’s a little dumbfounded. He wasn’t expecting you to take an interest in his craftsmanship. Hell, he wasn’t expecting you to continue speaking to him after you found his arrows. Thrown off by your actions, Daryl simply says that first thing that crosses his mind as you look at him with an expectant expression.

“Sure.”

Taglist: @darylsl0ver @minervadashwood @hotgirlsshareaccounts @taterbbbug @dreamtofus @youcantstandit @ajlovesdilfs @prettywhenibleed @luvsvnlqt-things @evie-beanie @strnqer @marina-isabella @lissanovak @elissanatok @1tsk1tty @moejoeflow @ceoofdisappointment @jewellthebooknerd

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

No Nut November - Duff

A/n: These were meant to be all put into one but then I made Duff's really long, then I made Axl's even longer, now I'm working on Steven's but the other's will also be posted separately, either way I hope you enjoy :3

Also if anyone wants to request more for Duff... ;)

Warnings: Smut, no nut November, fingering (f receiving), I completely forget everything that happened since I wrote it so if I missed anything please let me know :3

Intro

Duff walked out of the studio once they were done for the day. He had completely forgotten about the bet until Axl yelled out to him from across the parking lot. “Don’t let Popcorn win, ya hear?!” Whether he was joking or not Duff couldn’t tell, he didn’t care all too much either.

Honestly, the bet didn’t mean much to him in the first place, he just thought it would be fun to watch everyone else deal with it. He never put too much thought into whether or not he’d win or not, frankly he didn’t care. All he wanted was to get home to his partner.

It was October 31st, his plan was to come home and celebrate Halloween with his love, explain what was happening and see where that went.

He walks through the door and is met with you, his girlfriend, wearing what could potentially be the most revealing costume he’s ever seen in his life.

You did a little spin as you frolicked over to him. “You like it?” You asked with a big grin.

“Like what, the two inches of fabric covering your whole body?” He asked, a smile on his face as he admired you, his hands quickly finding their way to your hips.

“What, you no like?” You asked, looking down at yourself. “I got it for the party tonight.” Duff paused, suddenly this hot costume was no longer fun and games.

“You plan on going out in that?” You looked back up to him. “Babe, that’s a fucking thong and some cat ears.” You smiled and turned around.

“There’s a tail, too.” Indeed there was. Duff pulled on the fluffy black thing dangling out of you. A buttplug. You got a buttplug for a costume.

Duff shook his head and pushed your further into your shared apartment. “No way in hell are you leaving in that.” You laughed and flopped over onto the couch. Duff came right over to lay over top of you. “You are staying here with me for one last perfect night.” His lips crashed against yours, you happily went along with it until what he said finally caught up with you.

You pushed him away from you and nearly fell off the couch. “Last night? What do you mean ‘last night’?” You asked, tone full of worry.

Duff thought about what he said for a moment. “Oh, God, no, that’s not- that’s not at all what I meant.” He blurted, pulling you close to him. He sat you in his lap and you shifted uncomfortably due to the toy stuffed inside you. “It’s just, the guys and I made this bet to see who could last the longest through November without cumming.” He explained, toying with your hair. You let out that breath you were holding in and curled into him.

“Jesus, you fucking scared me, Duffy.” You mumbled. The bassist chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. You kissed his jaw, he kissed your nose, then you both met in the middle and your lips collided, ending in a heated makeout session.

You had your night and that was supposed to be that for the month.

A week passed and Duff was seemed fine. He hadn’t had any wet dreams, no real neediness. He did ask you to cover up a little more, though he swears it was because it was chilly. You didn’t necessarily plan on following through on this whole ordeal with him, still you hadn’t made any attempt at anything with or without him.

The first weekend was fine, you had it off and had your fun lying around all day. Monday killed you. Everyone was being an ass, some kid even got on your nerves when he ran into you with an icecream in his hand, getting it all over your new pants.

That night you came home seething, wanting nothing more than to have Duff fuck you into next week but you couldn’t even ask that.

You got in the apartment and slammed the door shut behind you, more than annoyed with the day. Duff poked his head out of the kitchen and, upon seeing you so distraught, he rushed over to you. He wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. “What happened? Rough day?” He asked as he walked you over to the couch. You groaned loudly. “That bad, huh?” Once he sat down you fell over, lying over the couch and his lap, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” You grumbled. Your eyes shot open and you slowly moved your hands away from your face, peering up at Duff who glared back at you.

“What was that?” He asked, knowing there wouldn’t be a good answer.

“I-I’m just tired, I didn’t-”

“No, no,” he interrupted, “say it again, I didn’t hear you the first time.” Your lips pursed in a small pout as you stayed looking up at him. “What, you had a bad day and decided to be a brat?” You shook your head. “Thought that I couldn’t do anything about it for a whole month, hm?”

“No, I just-” Duff cut you off again, this time with a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to yelp.

“Say. It. Again.” He repeated. You let out a small whimper. Duff shook his head. “Tsk, tsk... Sweetheart, it’s one thing to say something like that but it’s another to put on this act.” His voice was degrading, cold and mean. By God did it have your cunt blushing for him.

Duff knew he couldn’t fuck you, he’d lose the bet for sure. He didn’t plan on winning but he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of losing, either. To get around this he just fingered you.

He had you in his lap, naked. Your legs hooked for his to give him full access to you and he took full advantage of it, his long, thick fingers pushing deep inside of you. He went slow, making sure to drive you crazy by hitting every spot, then he’d speed up and the room would fill with lewd sounds and loud moans as you cried out for him. Right before you came he’d stop and return to an even slower pace.

You stopped warning him when you were close in hopes of cumming but he knew anyway. “Fuck, Duffy, please! Hah- ‘M so-sorry, please!” You whined, bucking your hips against him, searching for any amount of extra friction, just something to get you over the edge.

“You’re sorry, are you?” He was right by your ear, lips caressing the shell of it. “You’ll be good if I let you cum?” You nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes, yes, I-I promise, I’ll be good!” You were clenching around his experienced fingers in anticipation. Duff planted a few soft kisses along your neck as he continued his abuse on your hole, bringing you even closer to your release.

“Cum for me, baby, cum on daddy’s fingers.” He whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled back, your head fell onto his shoulder and your back arched as you came hard around his fingers.

You two never usually even made it a week without some kind of intimacy, even when he was on the road you’d call. That, paired with how much he teased you had a familiar yet different feeling building in your gut.

Instead of simply waves of pleasure rocking through you a gush of liquid shot out. It took Duff a second to realise what was happening but when he did he was quick to change tactics and pulled his fingers out of you to play with your clit, wanting to see as much of you squirting as he could.

He let you finish and gave you an extra few minutes to come back down from that. “I didn’t know you could do that.” His voice was soft and sweet in your ear, a full 180 from the tone he had earlier.

You shrugged. “One of us had to this month.” You joked, your voice airy and tired.

“You thought I could see that and not cum?” You looked up at him with a brow raised. You twisted in his lap to see the giant stain forming in his shorts. “Your ass kept rubbing against me, I gave up halfway through, that was just the cherry on top.” He explained and pulled you to him, kissing your neck again. “You know,” he started, “now that there isn’t a bet to worry about...” He trailed off.

Your brows raised and a smile came onto your face. You stood up and slowly started walking to the bedroom. When you were only a few steps away you turned back to him. “Last one in bottoms.” You teased. Duff booked it to the bedroom.

[vee-vee-writes]

Bilbo's Little Sapling (Bilbo’s Daughter POV)

Request by @that-teen2003: "Reader (adult) is bilbos daughter (yes biological) readers mother and bilbo had a one night stand and reader was given to bilbo. When the company arrived to bilbos they all take notice of some things not really meant for a hobbit hole, but they don’t question bilbo. Once everyone is there they bring up how bilbo will help them, but he says no because he has his baby girl to look after. The company along with Gandalf and shocked, bilbo goes on and says his little sapling cant be alone. They all here this and slightly back off, but still persistent, but image there shock when his daughter walks through the door, taller then Gandalf and bloody from the deer she hunted. She ends up joining her father one the quest, but not without a few of the dwarfs flirting with her along the way, as well as them finding out how scary a father hobbit can be when it comes to his daughter."

Notes: This is a companion piece to the original request. I hope you enjoy it :3

Original request here

Unusual was probably the understatement of the year when it came to you. While he loved you, Bilbo was awful at keeping his distress over your lack of interest in settling into the bookish life he lived. Prim and proper merriment was the way of the hobbit and yet you had always found yourself attracted to danger and adventure. There was little of to be found in the Shire, so you’d learnt to make your own fun years ago. Frolicking through the woods, climbing the biggest trees you could find, gathering wild fruits, nuts, and berries, swimming in the lazy river current, and, your favourite, hunting game. You’d started off small, trapping small game. After stumbling across an old dusty book shoved into a long-forgotten corner in your local library you had taken a keen interest in the sport. Your love had only grown from there and after mastering small traps you’d set your sights on bigger prey.

Unfortunately, you’d found yourself woefully inadequate with both short and long bow. So, after telling your father you were off to visit some relatives in Buckleberry, you had made off to Bree and enlisted some local help. After parting with some coin at the local smithy you had been set up with the proper equipment for someone of your stature. Hunting equipment was rare in the Shire, even rarer for someone as tall as you. It took time to find someone willing to teach you to use it, most gave you the once over and then went back to their business. But you had found an old city guard who had migrated to Bree from some distant place for a quieter life. After paying good coin to the man, you had spent several days in his company training. While by the end you were by no means an expert, or anything other than a beginner really, you had begun to grasp the basics. It wasn’t like you could really stay much longer either, if your father somehow found out what you’d been up to you were certain he’d have died on the spot. Bilbo Baggins was known to have a flair for the dramatics of course. So, you’d bid farewell to your new friend and set off for the weeklong trek home, ready to put your skills to the test on the way there. 

—— Time skip ——

Though you had been gone a little over two weeks something seemed different about Bag End as you approached it. Wiping the blood out of your eyes you shifted the wait of the buck on your back so that you had a spare hand free to unlatch the gate. The soft glow of candlelight out of one of the windows struck you. Bilbo was a hobbit of routine and by this time he was almost always tucked up in his favourite armchair doing some light reading. Stepping through the gate you ventured closer, eyes flickering around the entrance for any changes. That was when you spotted it, an odd mark scratched into the door. This certainly hadn’t been there when you left, you were sure you’d have noticed it. Panic flared up and with a mighty shove the buck was abandoned on the doorstep as you grasped for the hilt of your hunting knife. It was still slippery with the odd droplet of blood you had missed when giving it a quick clean after your kill. You’d only injured the buck with your first shot and quickly decided it would be unfair to keep shooting until you landed the final blow. Instead, you’d unsheathed your knife and slit its throat. You’d hadn’t anticipated the blood that had sprayed up over you nor the continued dripping over you as you’d carried it home. 

Grasping the brass knob in the middle of the door you wrenched it open, flinging it as you rushed in hoping to take the intruder off guard. Stepping into the warmth of Bag End you ran down the hall towards the dining room. Hushed baritone voices met your ears as your long legs carried you towards them. The backs of several figures came into view, including your father’s familiar waste coated figure. He didn’t seem to be in any trouble but was holding himself in an unusually meek way. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” you yelled out fiercely as you skidded into their view. Each figure whipped around to meet you and fifteen pairs of eyes landed startled onto your figure, each taking in the sight of your wild bloodied form.