#can’t decide if it would be good to have him yell at him for hours on end

[lailuhhh]

Okay okay so I had this AU idea but it’s not something I could pull off so I’m here going to yell about it because I can’t stop thinking about it. And maybe because I think you’d write it so well

What if Mac didn’t want to join the army? What if Harry or James forced him too? And he’s been banned from coming home(for a specific period of time). Is it because Harry’s sick and dying and doesn’t want his grandson to see him like this? Is it James for a more sinister specific reason?

So Mac doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go home. He’s had basically bad experiences with most of the people he’s interacted with(I’m a sucker for Mac’s previous overwatches being awful to him) and Peña was the exception but he’s gone and now he’s stuck with Dalton and he’s got so much time left here still and Dalton gets to go home soon.

They still don’t get along but Mac still saves Jack and he’s shocked when Jack stays because he gets to go home and choose to stay. Ahh it would be so interesting.

✨✨✨✨✨✨BESTIE✨✨✨✨✨✨

Okay what if Mac’s considered a troubled child? He has a record of everything that he’s done and really the only big thing was exploding the football field. He’s the weird kid but is still the Mac we know and love

Assuming everything is still pretty much the same, Harry and James still talk and James gets updates on everything Mac does and that was like the decision of him going to the army. Harry opposes it because he knows the horrors of it but doesn’t really have the final say in anything because while he’s technically Mac’s guardian, James is— unfortunately— still his father

Let’s assume Mac got a scholarship, but it’s really James setting his plan into place and through the magic of television, through signing all the paperwork and everything and getting the scholarship settled, Mac said he’d join the army when he turned 18

So Mac more or less gets literally escorted out of his dorm and shoved onto an army bus and taken away to basic, all while calling Harry trying to figure out what’s happening but Harry just tells him he signed a contract. Mac even calls the Bozers to try to help out because they actually care and don’t want him sent into a battlefield

Training and everything passes, old overwatches come and go, Peña is the only person who says the whole situation is fucked up and tells Mac he’ll look into it because legally the contract Mac signed was null and void because he signed as a minor without his guardian present so he really shouldn’t be there. James gets word of it because that’s just a big problem so he had a plan to keen him from finding anything out, but Peña ends up dying from the Ghost’s bomb and James doesn’t have to Deal With Him™️

At that point, Mac is pretty much cut off from everyone because he didn’t want to be there and the only person that seemed to care and believe him died. Then he gets transferred and the whole interaction with Jack happens and the scene where we see Mac disarm the IED with a battery and gum, how they’re kinda warming up to each other, Mac is still completely closed off because he just hates it there so much, even though Jack is trying to be a decent guy

And then when Mac goes off on his own—

“Now, we need to get on the same page, kid, and I mean right now. That is, if you want to keep breathing. Next time you wait for me to take my position before you go scampering off like that, you hear me?”

“Whatever. Not like it would’ve mattered.”

Which leads to a blowout of Mac yelling how much he hates it there and that he was basically kidnapped from college because he knew that, while he didn’t read the full contract, any agreements would’ve been void like Peña said because he was a minor and he didn’t have the power to consent to actually joining the army

When Mac saves Jack, it’s more of a if it was just me I wouldn’t really care but I’m not going to let you die just because my life sucks and Jack can see Mac going in a downward spiral and knows that if he doesn’t stay then Mac won’t make it out of the sandbox

The last few days is basically how they first met, but Jack’s making an effort to actually be the guy we know and love but Mac doesn’t want anything to do with it because Jack’s leaving and what’s the point of trying to be friends with someone you’ll never see again

So when Jack actually pops into the side of the humvee

“Why’d you come back? You had the opportunity to go home.”

“My home will still be there. I told ya before that I get all my bomb nerds home and yer no exception. You were dealt a real shitty hand and it’s fucked that no one will help ya get to the bottom of it. So I’m gonna stay here, make sure ya get home so you can stick it to those that fucked ya over”

So Mac’s tour gets finished, and since Jack actually holds power, they leave and Jack gets on contact with his buddies up the ladder to help get to the bottom of it and it takes a while but they eventually get the documents Mac signed and then consent forms signed by James and that just starts a whole whirlwind of the true James Hate we deserved

**Bonus points for if Harry died while Mac was deployed but they didn’t let him go home because James knew he would go AWOL so all his free days and leave had to be on base, also Mac assumed that Harry was the one that consented to him joining so he pretty much hated him until he found out the truth

All assuming Mac signed the scholarship forms when he was like 16 because you can legally sign up for the army when you’re 17

[lemonlover1110]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Sukuna

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Sukuna's twins are miniature versions of himself which can only mean one thing: they're two little demons.

Warnings: MDNI, family content, fluff(?), dad!Sukuna, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), titjob, nipple play

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna had to change a lot of things in his life when his twins came along. The man that never imagined he’d become a father, was lucky enough to knock up his girlfriend. Or wife, whatever he gets to call you now. One very unlucky lucky night he decided that protection was a stupid idea, but the universe got back at him to teach him a life lesson, and you ended up pregnant with two– Not one, but two babies. 

Sure, Sukuna loves his babies and all that shit which made it easier for him to change into a better person. He’s not a stellar parent or anything, and during the first year of their life he was struggling to figure it out but the job has gotten easier. He’d argue that the job is fun too, seeing the little shits form their own personalities or whatever is interesting. 

Though one could say that it’s only fun for Sukuna since the kids are turning out just like their father. For you, on the other hand, it is stressful. Having two children screaming just like their father isn’t exactly fun, not when you have to correct them. It was hilarious to watch Sukuna teach his nephew cuss words for the little guy to run around, yelling the atrocities (nearly giving his father a heart attack); it’s not fun when you’re in the mother’s shoes. 

“Fuck you-” “We don’t say that around here!” “Daddy says it!”

“Motherfucker!” “Watch your mouth!” “Daddy told me I can say it!”

It’s a never-ending correction in your home, and it doesn’t help that your husband doesn’t help you out. Sukuna kind of does his part by watching his mouth around the pair, but that’s not enough anymore. They’re almost six, it’s too late for them to unlearn certain words… or other behaviors. 

“Stop arguing you two!” You yell from the kitchen, hearing them bicker about something. They’re always arguing because one is mean to the other. Sukuna’s genes are too strong. Luckily for you, you were blessed with a girl and a boy so you don’t have to try again for another baby. You won’t have to repeat this.

“Ugly bastard!” Akane, your baby girl, yells. And you wish it was a moment where you got to think if you heard wrong because your baby girl would never say that, but she would. This one says it nearly daily.

“Akane, if I hear one more word out of you, girl! I swear–” You’re cut off by your husband, startling you as he hugs you from behind. He’s not listening, or well, he is and he doesn’t want you to correct the girl.

“Aren’t you just so proud of her?” He sounds elated, knowing his daughter sounds just like him. If only you could share that sentiment. You push him away and focus on finishing lunch for the little rascals. 

“My girl friends invited me out, and guess what? You’re taking over tonight.” You tell him, and Sukuna’s eyes widen. You’ve never made that threat before– Usually when you go out, you take them along or drop them off at someone else’s place because you doubt Sukuna can handle them. The longest they’ve been alone has been an hour.

“Someone will end up getting stabbed.” Is his answer, hoping that it’s enough to scare you into staying. Sukuna loves his babies, but he knows he can’t handle them. He made a grave mistake by molding them into mini versions of himself. Sukuna can’t control himself, how is he able to control two small Sukunas?

“And it’s probably going to be you if you don’t play your cards right. Good luck.” You answer, making it clear that you’re not staying home no matter what. You don’t acknowledge Sukuna as he begins to tell you the horrific sights that you might come home to. Sure, your kids are rowdy and a lot like their father but they won’t burn the house down… if you hide the matches.

“Akira! Akane! Come here!” You ignore him, calling your kids for their lunch. Sukuna sighs, rolling his eyes. 

They can’t be too bad…

“Hold his legs!” Akane yells to her brother while she pulls Sukuna’s hair. He doesn’t know what happened, he just fell asleep on the couch and woke up to his arms being restrained while one twin wipes something on his face. 

“What the fuck are you two doing?!” Sukuna raises his voice, rightfully so considering the position he’s in right now. He was warned, yet chose not to listen. Sukuna could kick the little shit that’s trying to tie him together but he won’t in fear that he might be too harsh and send the kid to the hospital. Oh, he hates them so much right now but any other time he’s willing to give up his life for them.

“We’re just playing.” Akira answers, and Sukuna could strangle one of the twins right at this moment– Too bad his hands are tied. How is this playing? Are they simulating a kidnapping or what?

“Untie me, now!” He orders, but his words go in one ear and out the other. He’s not mommy, he’s not uptight and lets them do whatever so this must be a joke.

“Quick, grab mommy’s makeup!” Akane yells, and Sukuna clenches his jaw. He’s trying to free himself, but they got him good. He needs to check what the kids are watching from now on because this is worrying for him.

“Akane, let me go before I get angry.” Sukuna threatens, but what can he possibly do when he’s tied up? 

“I got it!” Her twin comes into the living room with your makeup bag. Sukuna is squirming, trying his best to break free from his confinement but he can’t. Did they catch him while he was tying you up or what? No… He remembers locking the door. 

“If you two don’t let me free in this instant, I’ll make you pay!” Sukuna sounds intimidating, clearly angry at this little stunt. Unfortunately for him, they don’t take him seriously. They fear no one.

“You sound funny.” Akane laughs before pulling on his hair, which makes a cry escape his lips. Oh, he’d love this father thing if they were like you. This whole thing is getting annoying, but not only for him; the pair is getting tired of hearing their father cry and scream. “Akira, grab the tape, daddy is getting annoying.”

“What the fuck are you going to do?! I am your father, you two have to listen to me!” Sukuna is trying his best to break free before the twins tape his mouth and end up killing him. And by some miracle, just as they get their hands on the tape, the front door opens.

He prays that it’s you, ready to save him from the twins’ evil plan. It’s not you, but the next best thing. Sukuna doesn’t waste a second before yelling, “Jin! Stop them before they kill me!”

“What’s happening here?” His brother looks around confused. What did he just walk in on? He got a text from you to check in on his brother since Sukuna would be alone with the twins… and this happens. He sees his beloved nephew walk back with a roll of tape, and Jin picks him up from the ground. “What are you two doing to your dad?”

“They’re trying to kill me!” Sukuna yells, which the twins argue,

“We’re just playing!” Which makes a chuckle come from Jin. It isn’t funny– Well, maybe just a bit. It’s hilarious to see Sukuna get a taste of his own medicine.

“Now, you two, let your dad go.” Jin says, and at that moment they huff and puff. But they listen. He’s watching Sukuna’s expressions, and he stops the twins before they completely free him. “Stop. Go to your rooms.”

“What?! Don’t–” Before Sukuna can finish yelling, they’ve run away. They aren’t going to listen to him. Once they’re out of sight, Jin frees Sukuna and holds the man down, not trusting him enough to let him go.

“You’re not going to do anything to them, right?” Jin sounds as if he were Sukuna’s dad, which only pisses the man off more.

“The fuck am I going to do to them? I didn’t kick the little shit when he was tying my legs because I didn’t want to hurt him.” Sukuna makes a great point, but Jin wasn’t there to witness it. Right now he sees an angry man, and he wants to make sure Sukuna calms down before anything. “Why the hell are you here anyway?”

“Your wife called me to check up on you, and I came just in time.” Jin answers, sitting down beside Sukuna once he knows that his brother is calm enough. Sukuna wants to be mad at you for not trusting him enough to watch his own kids, but he also wants to thank you for saving him tonight. 

“Don’t tell her what you saw.” Sukuna quickly says. It’s more of a warning than a request. Sukuna takes a deep breath. He should be asking what the kids were going to do to him– It wasn’t going to be anything too bad, probably just put on some makeup on him or some other stupid trick. They knew he was going to say no if he asked, so they chose to tie him up. The thought isn’t too far fetched considering who their father is. What he’s thinking right now is,

“Why would they listen to you and not me?” Sukuna wonders, and Jin has an idea as to why. “I mean I’m terrifying, but you? You look like you catch jellyfish with a net and work at the Krusty Krab.”

“Ah, they’re into Spongebob now.” Jin can’t help but laugh. He won’t take the insults to heart since this has always been Sukuna. “I feel like they do find you scary, they just don’t think that you’ll do anything to them if they torment you.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Sukuna isn’t in the mood for this. He can’t just wrap his head around this whole situation.

“You let them get away with a lot when it comes to you. You don’t let them get away with anything when it comes to their mother or other family.” Jin explains, which is valid reasoning but Sukuna rolls his eyes. That isn’t the answer he’s looking for, therefore he won’t accept it.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to check up on them before they flood the house.” Sukuna stands up from his seat, leaving his brother behind. The twins can’t be trusted for too long. 

Lo and behold, they found the matches. 

“You two came into my life as karma, huh?” Sukuna asks, before taking the matches from their grimy hands. “Akane, go annoy your uncle. Akira, you’re getting a bath and that’s final.”

“I thought you said I could bathe only once a week.” Akira points out the agreement they’ve had, but Sukuna has changed his mind. 

“I changed my mind when you and your sister did a kidnapping simulation with me. Plus, your mother says you stink and she doesn’t like you anymore so go to the tub.” Sukuna is not scared of making a little white lie to hurt his son’s feelings. It’s the least he could do.

“Mommy doesn’t what?” Akira’s eyes become watery, his bottom lip quivering at the thought of his mother not loving him anymore. Sukuna would feel a twinge of remorse any other night. 

“He’s lying, bubba.” Akane goes to his brother’s side to comfort him. She might be a little devil, but she has her soft spot. She hugs him tightly and Sukuna has to tear his eyes away from the sickly sweet scene. They won’t get to him. “You do stink but mommy loves you. She told us she loved us before leaving.”

“A lie she told you since she’s not coming back because you stink.” Sukuna isn’t going to stop, even when he hears his son cry. The boy pushes his sister away and runs to the bathroom to wash himself to make his mother come back. Hearing his own son cry is tough, but he’ll pat himself on the back later. 

“You’re next. Now go to your uncle, ask about Yuji or some shit.” Sukuna looks at his daughter, who is more resilient than her brother. She’s only five though, so he can find a way to get through to her with no issue. “Your birthday is coming up soon, huh? Guess I’ll–”

“I’m going!” She yells before Sukuna can finish his sentence, making a smirk come to his face. Smart girl.

He can handle them for the rest of the night, especially with Jin here.

When you come home, your little demons are sound asleep in their bedroom. You tuck them in, and admire the sight that you never see during the day. They almost look like they were sent straight from heaven. It’s a nice sight to come home too.

Your opinion changes when you enter your bedroom and find your husband throwing his clothes into a suitcase. You’ve noticed that over the past years he’s become increasingly dramatic. You let your presence be known as a chuckle escapes your lips, standing in the doorway.

“Is it because they tied you up?” You question, and a frown comes to his lips.

“I told Jin to not tell you. But yes.” He answers, and you step into the room. You shut the door behind you, locking the door just in case things escalate. “They don’t take me seriously, and I told you things wouldn’t go well if you left me alone with them but there you go, going out with your friends.”

“I can’t stay locked up forever taking care of them.” You respond, and he rolls his eyes.

“Leave them with Jin. They take him seriously.” Sukuna says, and you chuckle.

“Unpack your stuff, baby. Stop being so dramatic.” You tell him, heading over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. That’s not enough for him right now though. 

“I’m leaving and never coming back.” Sukuna sounds like a child, which is hilarious. Only those two can get that side out of him. He’ll continue no matter what you say, so you do the next best thing. You lift up your shirt, and his eyes widen for a moment before he tears them away.

“Your boobs aren’t going to work this time.” He claims, and you fix your shirt. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before sighing, “But they do help.”

“Come here, baby.” You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him. Sukuna hugs you back, and he could sob (just for the dramatics).

“They’re so mean.” Sukuna’s head rests on your shoulder, as his hand travels under your shirt to squeeze your boob. “Can you make me feel better?”

“Can you–” You begin but before you can even finish, Sukuna pulls away and throws the suitcase on the ground. He’ll unpack later. You open your mouth to speak again but he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a rough kiss. 

His tongue wanders around your mouth, his free hand going under your shirt once again. It’s an old trick, but every time you show him your breasts, he forgets anything and everything. You don’t do it when the matter is a serious issue, but you really can’t do much about the fact that your twins are straight from hell.

Sukuna sits down on the bed, lifting up your shirt, prompting you to take it off. Once it’s out of the way, his tongue licks up your body before giving your tits attention. He rolls his tongue around your nipple while his hand plays with the other one, pinching your nipple and squeezing your boob. You really get him, knowing the exact way to get him to calm down. He pulls away, and kisses between your breasts until he gets to the other tit. He switches to your other tit and entertains himself once again.

He’s having so much fun, his mouth preoccupied with you but there’s an uncomfortable sensation between his pants. He unlatches, looking up at you with lustful eyes. Your gaze falls on the tent in his pants, making you bite down your lip.

“Help me out.” He says, and you help him unbuckle out. You pull down his pants, freeing his cock from its confinement. You kneel down in front of him, a smirk on your lips. This is a great way to apologize.

You spit on his cock before your hand wraps around the base. You lower your head, tongue circling around the tip as your hand strokes his dick. You start off so painfully slow, too painful for Sukuna. You lower your head, taking as much of his dick as you can.

You slowly bob your head, hands wrapping around the park of his cock that is outside and stroking it for him. It’s like heaven for him, though he just wants to push your head down and force you to take all of his cock. You can take it like a good girl, right? He won’t take any risks tonight.

“You can take it all.” You lift your head, and Sukuna whines. You were barely even doing anything, why did you feel the need to stop? A spark appears on his eyes, a smirk coming to his face as you cup your tits. He judged too soon.

You put his cock between your chest, squeezing your cleavage together before moving it up and down his dick. Sukuna’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your tits squeezing around him. He grabs the back of your head, pulling back and telling you, “Open your fucking mouth.”

And without missing a beat, you obey, sticking your tongue out. He spits in your mouth, and you swallow immediately. This is the reason why you ended up with twins– You just do shit that makes him feel every inch of your body raw, a need. You’re so obedient and generous with him.

Your soft flesh between his cock is too much for him, and such a nice sight as he watches them jiggle. You should do this more often is all that he can think as your hands pick up speed. He’s rolling his hips, lightly moaning as his breath gets heavy. 

“Good job.” You hear, which tells you all that you need to know. He barely praises you unless he’s close.

“Cum for me, baby. Do it all over my tits.” You tell him, and he bites down his lips to not sound pathetic. Oh, he has to control himself tonight because you might end up with another child. He can’t have that. 

His hands grip the bed sheets as he finishes all over you. His cum covers your chest, all the way up to your neck. Your fingers swipes it, bringing it up to your lips simply for his entertainment, but he’s looking for something else in the nightstand.

He could die right now.

“Ran out of condoms, and I’m not risking anything.” He’s in so much pain as the words leave his lips, and you furrow your brows. Since when has this been an issue?

“You can pull out.” You remind him, but that isn’t cutting it for Sukuna.

“I said I’m not risking anything.” He couldn’t make it any clearer. Tonight was certainly… An experience to say the least.

“Can you at least eat me out?” You ask him, standing up from the ground. There’s no way you’re going unrewarded tonight.

“You have a vibrator, work it out.” He shrugs, and you glare at him. He’s pissed off with you again, leaving him with the twins was a horrible mistake on your part.

“You’re such a jerk.” You roll your eyes at him, and hearing him chuckle makes you want to hit him. You manage to restrain yourself, managing to mutter out a simple, “Fuck you.”

“Aw, they get it from you. How cute.” He says, which makes your palm lightly slap his forehead. “Hey! Maybe next time don’t leave me alone–”

“The vibrator is going to do a better job than you anyway.” You cut him off, going to the bathroom to clean yourself up… Getting all dirty and for what? 

“If you really want another pair, I’ll give them to you.” Sukuna stands up, following behind you to annoy you.

“Get a fucking vasectomy.” You respond, and you feel his arms wrap around you, stopping you from going any further. Of course he can’t leave you alone. “Sukuna, I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll help you.” 

[jules-loves-lukecastellan]

| luke castellan x fem! daughter of poseidon! reader

౨ৎ warnings ౨ৎ: none i think

౨ৎ summary ౨ৎ: luke and [reader] go on a secret date, only to be caught by annabeth, percy, and grover

౨ৎ PART 2 OUT NOW ౨ৎ

“I thought this place was secret..”

“where’re you going anyways at 10:00 am on a random tuesday??”

percy asked, giving a very confused look, mostly because, you’re never up at 10:00 am or ever putting this much effort into making sure your shirt looks good enough.

“percy, i’m not going anywhere. i just decided to.. put a little more effort in today i guess.”

you said with glowing cheeks, thinking of luke. percy doesn’t seem to convinced and was about to say something else, but you quickly beat him to it, to avoid other integrations.

“are you sure my shirt looks good?” “should i opt for the baggier jeans or keep these flared ones on?”

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it was a sunny day for camp half blood. perfect for a picnic or maybe even a secret date..

as you exited your cabin, ready to spend some much needed time with your favorite boy ever, you were stopped by annabeth. don’t get me wrong, you love annabeth. but right now, you wanted some alone time with luke.

“hey y/n! i wanted to ask if you could help me work on some new sparring skills? i was going to ask luke but i can’t seem to find him anywhere.” annabeth asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

you hesitated in saying it, but you couldn’t ever turn down helping someone. “sure annie. why not” you said with a bit of a forced smile.

as she showed you the moves she’s been working on, you correct her on her form and where she would be exposed to the enemy. this goes on for about 20 minutes until grover walks by and starts talking to annabeth about something.

you use this opportunity to quietly slip away to finally see luke. all you wanted to do was kiss him and hug him and do everything affectionate with him because you felt like you haven’t seen him in forever (you haven’t seen him for like a day).

as you brush through the sharp pine needles and itchy bushes, you finally catch a glimpse of the boy you fell in love with when you were 14.

you see him laying down on a blanket, with his elbows propping him up. you sneak up behind him and put your hands over his eyes.

“guess who!” you say lightly laughing as he guesses stupid answers like “Chiron” or “Percy”.

as you remove your hands from his eyes he gets up and immediately kiss you all over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally your lips.

“hey, i’ve missed you so much.” luke says with love laced in his eyes.

“not as much as i’ve missed you.” “i have to tell you all about the morning i’ve had just to get here!” you exclaimed with a smile as you both sit down, hand in hand.

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some time has passed. about an hour or so. your head is on luke’s shoulder as he’s telling you all about how his week has been and how much he’s missed you (even though you two saw each other literally the day before).

in the middle of talking, you decided to just kiss him because well, you love him and this is one of the only times you got to spend time with him alone. as you’re both ahem.. making out, you hear footsteps, but you don’t think much of it.

until you hear a percy yelling “WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT WITH MY HALF-SISTER?!?!!” as grover catches up with percy, panting. and annabeth removes her hat, “percy! you ruined our cover you seaweed brain.”

“well sorry that i’m freaked out that luke is making out with my sister!! we’re lucky we didn’t get here later..”

as both you and luke just sit there dumbfounded, you finally decide to speak up. “ok why are you all here??” percy replies back very sassily “oh missy that’s the least of your problems.”

you roll your eyes as one of the more mature ones respond (annabeth) “well after grover finished talking to me, i saw that you weren’t with me anymore and also judging how luke wasn’t where he usually is either, i got a little fishy. so i grabbed percy and grover and went off.”

percy is just glaring at luke. like staring daggers into him. luke is just sheepishly smiling as he lays his head on your shoulder kissing it. as you both hear percy lecturing you on how it’s not ok to sneak around and such, annabeth and grover just sit there laughing as you and luke just keep playfully rolling your eyes and being dramatic with your responses like “oh i’m so sorry percy! i won’t ever do this again!”

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as you walk back to your cabin, percy in the middle of you and luke, you’re thinking all about how much you’ve fallen for luke and how excited you are to build your future with him (oop).

and as all three of you walk toward the poseidon cabin, you mouth to luke “stay outside for a minute”. you and percy walk inside and you make up some excuse to go back out there.

you go back outside where luke still is and you hug him around his waist. “that date was fun.. until.. yknow” you said laughing.

he rests his chin on the top of your head, and laughs. “yea. i always love spending time with my sunshine.” he says as he kisses the top of your head and pulls away.

you smile and look at his left eye, his lips, then to his right eye (triangle method lol). you lean in and kiss his soft lips as his arms find their way to your waist and yours to his neck. as you both pull away, foreheads touching, luke whispers with a smile,

“my cabin. 10:30 pm. make sure percy’s asleep.” you lightly laugh and pull away going into your cabin. as luke is about to walk to his counselor duties, he sees percy in the window giving him the death glare. he flinches and he awkwardly smiles and walks backwards until percy walks away from the window.

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౨ৎ a/n ౨ৎ-(PT2??) first imagine done! i really hope u liked this one. pls request some!! i love writing for our fav evil boyfriend lol. and give me feedback! i’m new to this whole “imagines” thing haha <3 (btw idk how to put my requests thing on so just pm me with them🫶🏻🫶🏻)

-jules🎀

[gyuswhore]

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me. 

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone. 

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside. 

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building. 

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years. 

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.” 

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you. 

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends. 

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day. 

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong. 

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey. 

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise. 

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung. 

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects. 

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.” 

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too. 

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand. 

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time. 

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own. 

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game. 

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight. 

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something. 

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say. 

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward. 

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you. 

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile. 

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing. 

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating. 

“Wait!” 

You turn around at his voice. 

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours. 

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled. 

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.” 

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek. 

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off. 

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to. 

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before. 

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both. 

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do. 

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye. 

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.” 

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore. 

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time. 

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered. 

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay. 

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower. 

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left. 

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship. 

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?” 

Slowly, but surely, he nods. 

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.” 

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home. 

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again. 

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade. 

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet. 

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. 

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own. 

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back. 

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you. 

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him. 

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other. 

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative. 

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon. 

He let a couple tears slip. 

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest. 

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind. 

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes. 

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow. 

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies. 

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like. 

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption. 

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?” 

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training. 

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.” 

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day. 

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other. 

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for. 

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed. 

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year. 

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have. 

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.” 

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile. 

“Oh, he’s here with me,” 

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens. 

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.  

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.” 

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?” 

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.” 

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him. 

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms. 

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.” 

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time. 

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like. 

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different. 

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears. 

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt. 

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden. 

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.” 

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill. 

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are. 

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.” 

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all. 

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights. 

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away. 

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups. 

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.” 

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation. 

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring. 

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows. 

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward. 

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently. 

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow. 

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening. 

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now. 

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours. 

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself. 

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours. 

“You okay?” 

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely. 

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance. 

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance. 

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you. 

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind. 

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself. 

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest. 

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak. 

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass. 

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina. 

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other. 

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture. 

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another. 

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad. 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other. 

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain. 

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say. 

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

[apclyptc]

DUMB— chris sturniolo x reader

synopsis: reader is smart and top of her class in college. chris however, is not too interested in her intelligence.

warnings: full on smut, swearing and also drinking/smoking, use of the pet name baby, use of the word slut, dumbification, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

“hit her from the back she can’t do nothing but yell,

and she smart as fuck i got this bitch straight out of yale”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Ever since you were younger, you seemed to have a gift for memorising and holding information. Because of this, people assumed you studied constantly.

Obviously, you did study. But it wasn’t like you didn’t have a social life. You enjoyed college parties like any other person would.

So when a guy in your class invited you to his frat house for a party, of course you didn’t refuse.

The only thing was, this guy just happened to be Chris.

He was in your social studies class, usually sat at the very back with a couple of his friends in the lecture. You knew of each other, having shared mutual friends from other classes. You’d never really spoken to him one-to-one, mainly because he was always socialising with pretty much everyone, and while you weren’t shy, you also weren’t a huge fan of jumping into conversations with people who all knew each other prior.

It also didn’t help that Chris was the most attractive man you had seen in college, or maybe in your life.

You were good at hiding it, but he made you nervous. Of course, when he invited you to his fraternity house, you faked an air of confidence so you didn’t weird him out.

“Hey, it’s Y/N, right?” Chris began, and when you affirmed with a nod he continued, “I’m throwing a party tonight, you should come.” He threw a smile in your direction, and you pushed down the immediate feeling of giddiness before answering.

“Yeah sure, sounds good. When does it start?” You asked nonchalantly as you could.

“Around 10. You can come whenever, it will be on way into the morning anyway.”

“Great. Am I good to bring a couple friends?” You replied, not wanting to walk into a party alone.

“Yeah that’s fine with me. Ask your friend Lola, my buddy Nate has a thing for her. Just don’t tell him I told you that.” He smirked at you.

That smirk. You wished you could see that smirk while he was hovering over you as he sla—

“Lola, yeah! I’ll bring her along with me.” You snapped out of your less than decent reverie and gave Chris a response.

“Perfect. I’ll see you there, Y/N.” He gave a quick glance up and down your body before turning and walking away from you.

It was then you realised, you had absolutely nothing to wear. Plus, since Chris just personally asked you, you decided you may as well dress as hot as possible.

Y/N: hey lola, frat party tonight?

Lola: do u even have to ask??? usually it’s me dragging u to these things

Y/N: true lmao. i’m gonna need to borrow something from ur closet

Lola: ooooh why, do u need smth slutty?

Y/N: maybe

maybe i was personally invited by the party thrower

Lola: who

Y/N: chris 😇

Lola: GIRL-

ok ok i’ll give u the sluttiest thing i can find

come over later and we can pick something out for u

A couple of hours later once you were finished at college, you headed to your best friend Lola’s dorm.

You two had spent what seemed like hours choosing each other’s outfits.

“By the way, a little birdie told me that Nate has a thing for you.” You eyed Lola up, knowing she had a soft spot for him.

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. Totally unrelated but would you still happen to have that box of condoms I gave you for secret santa last year?” Lola gave you a suggestive look, raising her eyebrows.

“Of course. Already put two in my bag.” You both laughed.

You arrived at the party at 11:27, mainly because no one turns up to a party on time, but also because Lola took a ridiculous amount of time to get ready.

You met up with a couple of girls from the dorms opposite Lola, seeing as they were also invited.

As soon as you arrived, you were immediately shown to the kitchen where an array of bottles were displayed.

Vodka, whiskey, rum, tequila and practically any spirit you could think of, were decorated around the kitchen.

You grabbed two cups, one for you and Lola, and filled it with vodka and soda.

“Hey, I think I see Nate and Chris over there.” Lola points behind you through to the games room, where lo and behold, Nate and Chris were playing what looked like an intense game of beer pong.

The two of you walked over to them, Nate noticing you first.

“Hey! Come help me win the game, Lola.” He gestured for her to play with him.

Chris had then turned around to see you, that smirk appearing yet again.

“You gonna help me?”

You took a quick swig of the contents in your cup before joining Chris at the table.

“Atta girl. Nice of you to bring Lola for my bro.” He spoke in a low voice so that only you could hear.

“Chris, stop flirting and throw the damn ball.” Nate teased, and you felt your cheeks grow red.

Chris threw the ball into the cup closest to him, the object landing into the beer and making a splash.

“Drink up, fool.” he glanced at you to make sure you were watching.

After a while, you had enough to drink to give you a confidence boost, and were now invested in the game of beer pong.

It was down to one cup each, and you had to make the final shot.

“Come on, Y/N,” Chris spoke from behind you, “you got it.”

It was too hard to concentrate with his voice so close to your ear, and his body so close to yours. You threw the ball, but it narrowly missed the cup.

“Yes! Chris you’re a loser!” Nate laughed at his best friend across from the table, throwing his arm around Lola who had locked eyes with you as he did this.

‘Don’t forget the condom’, you mouthed to her playfully, and she winked, pointing to her pocket.

Nate and Lola had then disappeared together, leaving you alone with Chris.

“Sorry I missed the cup.” You joked.

“Apology accepted. You wanna smoke with me?” He pulled out a perfectly rolled joint from his pocket.

You weren’t a huge smoker, only joining with Lola occasionally when you felt like unwinding.

Nevertheless you agreed, deciding you may as well since you were at a party.

Chris lead you upstairs into his room. Your eyes immediately glanced around the room, taking in its appearance.

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, and you followed.

“Could you get my lighter, it’s in the top drawer over there.” He pointed to the bedside table at the wall, and you grabbed the device, passing it to him which he thanked you for.

“Lola and Nate seem to hit it off.” You spoke.

Chris held the joint between his lips, lighting it before replying, “he’s down bad for her. Has been for a while.”

You giggled to yourself, knowing Lola felt the same about him. It was a good feeling for you, because you knew Nate was a nice guy.

“They’re a good match. Nate’s a good guy for her." You responded, watching Chris take the first hit of weed and exhaling the thick smoke.

“Yeah? Is that what you’re into? Nice guys?” He asked you, taking another hit before passing it to you.

You took the joint from his hand and inhaled.

“I guess. I think I prefer someone more… unpredictable.” You had Chris in mind as you answered. You had yet to figure out why he invited you here himself, since you didn’t know each other that well.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, someone I can’t figure out. I like to be kept on my feet, someone like Nate is easy to understand because he’s straightforward. Which is great for Lola, she deserves someone who is like that.” You thought about all the past few guys Lola had a thing with. They weren’t that nice.

You passed the joint back to Chris who had his eyes trained on you as you spoke.

“So you like the tension, not knowing when or if someone wants you.” He tried to understand.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice when it’s easy. But..” You trailed off.

“It’s more fun not to know.” Chris finished your trail of thought as if he knew the feeling.

“Exactly.”

A comfortable silence sat between you, passing the joint back and forth until it was gone.

“I have a question.” You asked, breaking the silence.

Chris tapped the joint out on his bedside table, and brought his attention back to you, “Go ahead.”

“Why did you invite me here? I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to come, it’s just that we haven’t really talked much.” You asked, needing to know.

Chris chuckled.

“I thought it was more fun not to know?” He smirked, using your own logic against you.

“Come on! Tell me.” You persisted.

Chris leaned in closer to you, and you could swear your heart was beating out of your chest.

“I always see you in class,” He began to explain, continuing to close the gap between you, “sitting close to the front, answering all the questions. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?”

The tension was palpable, and you felt yourself grow wetter as his low voice penetrated your ears.

“I want an answer.” He demanded.

“I- I guess so.” Your voice wavered, all of a sudden finding it hard to speak.

“I’ve always wanted to see how long it takes until I can make you speechless.”

And it surely didn’t take long, because in moments his lips were on yours.

It was as if every guy you had dated never existed, the feeling of Chris kissing you overrode any experience you had thus far.

His left hand rested on the back of your neck while his other hand took the opportunity to roam around your body, from your thighs to your chest, until it landed on your waist.

Your hands swiftly made their way to his arm and hair, while deepening the kiss he had started.

In a quick movement he lifted you onto his lap, letting both his hands find purchase on your waist.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you slowly moved your hips rhythmically, earning a soft grunt from him.

Pulling away, he spoke, “You want to do this?”

You nodded, before asking the same of him.

“Do you?”

That same smirk that sent you reeling reappeared again.

“Does this answer your question?” He grinded his hips upwards into you, allowing you to feel his growing hard-on.

A whine escaped from your lips.

“No more talking.”

You reconnected your lips to his, the energy of the room turning into heated passion.

Chris’ hands slowly dragged down to your ass, kneading them with roughness.

You whined again, unable to stop any sounds from leaving your mouth.

The sound of the ongoing party downstairs could be faintly heard from inside the room, but you paid it no mind. You couldn’t, not while Chris had all his attention on you.

He briefly paused to take off the top you were wearing, and then resumed with his skilled tongue, sliding against yours. He took you off his lap, not separating from you for a moment as he laid you down on your back.

“Such a smart girl in class,” he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind him, “Does anyone know that you’re really just a little slut?” He kissed your neck, then your jaw.

“I need an answer.” Chris demanded again, and you rubbed your thighs together in want.

“No.” You breathed.

“No, what?” His hand glided up your thigh, separating them.

“I’m not a slut.” You managed to find words.

“So if I reach in between your legs, right now, you won’t be dripping for me?”

You knew you were.

A hand snaked through your skirt, pulling aside your underwear, and he slowly dragged a finger down your pussy.

“I’ve barely touched you. Do you want me to? Want me to touch you right here?” His finger, coated in your slickness, inched its way inside, just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy you.

You bucked your hips up, trying to feel something, anything.

But Chris pulled his hand away, causing you to whine in frustration.

Luckily for you, he wanted to feel you so badly, he couldn’t tease you for long. He grabbed the hem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs and threw it in the same direction as his shirt.

“I want to hear you. You love opening that mouth when we’re in class.” And with that, he pulled your underwear aside and attached his mouth straight to your throbbing clit.

All you could do was moan and writhe in his bed as he delved into your wet cunt, licking up all the arousal like a starved man.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on it desperately. The vibrations from the groan that left his mouth sent waves of pleasure tearing through your body.

Chris’ hands dug into the flesh of your thighs as they instinctively tried to close around his head.

“Fuck, right there!” You moaned loudly as his tongue dove inside your hole.

One of his hands left your thigh and drew circles on your clit, causing you to arch your back at the white-hot pleasure you felt from his ministrations.

Chris could feel his dick pulsate through his pants at the sounds you were making. He needed to feel you.

“You want me to fuck you, huh? Fill you up good?” He asked, and you knew by now he wanted an answer.

“Please, please, please.” Were the only words you could muster, too high on the feeling Chris had given you with his mouth.

He wasted no time on giving you what you were begging for, quickly discarding his pants and boxers, along with your bra and soaked panties.

Lining himself up with your entrance, he slid his dick over the slick of your pussy and pushed the tip in.

Your eyes had shut in anticipation, but when he made no attempt to move you opened your eyes to look at him.

He had waited until you made eye contact with him before pushing his entire dick inside you.

You both moaned at the full feeling, your walls contracting around him.

After a few seconds, Chris began to move.

Thrusting in and out at a slow pace as if to torture you, he shuddered, revelling in the feeling of your tight cunt.

“Fuck, feels so good baby.” You whined at the pet name, bringing his face down so you could kiss him again.

He started picking up the pace after this, your tongues smashing together in absolute need.

“Faster, faster.” You babbled, drunk off the sensation of his cock piston in and out of you.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you dumb?” He grunted, loving how you could barely string full sentences together.

“Yes, yes, please. Need you deeper.”

The dirty words spilling from your mouth caused him to moan, and he flipped you onto all fours.

“Wanna see that pretty little ass bounce while I fuck you.” He muttered as he entered you yet again.

His pace was relentless, his balls slapping against you from the way he was pounding deep inside you.

You were just making sounds as you tried to say “Harder, faster, more,” but the words couldn’t form properly.

“The slut wants more? Can’t even speak but you’re begging for more?” He taunted you from behind.

You felt a sharp slap on your ass, followed by a soothing rub directly after. You practically yelled as Chris’ hand came down, your cunt convulsing.

“Knew you’d like that,” he slapped your cheek again, “Can feel you squeezing around me.”

You could feel the knot in your stomach unraveling, and you knew you wouldn’t last longer.

“Chris, gonna cum.” You managed to speak between moans.

“Come on baby, need you to cum while I’m inside you.” He groaned, trying to hold his own release off.

His words guided you right to your orgasm, shaking and crying while you came.

“Fuck, you want my cum inside you? Want me to stuff you full?” His pace was losing rhythm, chasing his orgasm while simultaneously overstimulating you.

“Mm, cum inside me. Want to feel it.” You cried, thrusting into him so you could feel more of him.

“So good, feels so good. Oh, I’m gonna cum inside of you,” Chris rambled, “Gonna fill you up with it.”

His moans were uncontrollable, spilling out of him as he relished in the warm feeling of your pussy.

“Cumming.” He grunted, as ropes of his cum spurted out, coating your insides until there was nothing left.

You both took the time to catch your breath, as Chris pulled out of you with a shaky sigh.

“Let me get you a towel.”

You turned onto your back once more, trying to comprehend the mind blowing sex you just had while dozens of people were partying downstairs.

Chris came back with a towel, cleaning the both of you up and passing you your underwear back.

“Hey.” You finally spoke, tired from all the stamina you had just burned.

“Hey.” He replied back to you.

“That was… amazing.” You sighed.

“Yeah, it was fun.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted you to leave now, or if you were supposed to stay, so you opted to do nothing.

“Let me take you on a date.” He announced, and you laughed.

“Don’t you think we’ve done this all a little backwards?”

Chris smiled and brought your head to his shoulder.

“I guess I’m just unpredictable.”

You then remembered you didn’t even use the condom you brought with you. You’d have to make your first date with Chris a trip to the pharmacy.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n haha…. always wear a condom, kids!

hope you enjoyed my first oneshot.

send me any requests you want me to write! i think i’m gonna do an nsfw alphabet next, for chris and matt too

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Indifference Part 2

Part 1 ~~

Sanji X Fem Reader

Sanji let to door shut behind him as soon as Chopper said you were stable. Heading to the edge of the deck to lean over the railing, the sun long gone and the only light coming from the stars in the sky. He grabbed a cigarette and his lighter, his hands noticeably shaking as he brings the items closer to his mouth.

         His eyes were dazed over as he attempted to light the nicotine in his fingers, wanting any sort of comfort compared to what just happened the past few hours. Finally succeeding he breathe in the sweet release as smoke fills his lungs. The feeling grounding him ever so slightly as he lets his head fall, staring at his hands.

         The feeling of warm blood enveloping them as he tried to stop the flow on your back, the transfusions that happened quickly while Chopper got to work stitching the wounds. His hands slowly turning sticky and dry, his shirt covered in the red liquid. And your face, his mind kept replaying the look you had given him just before you fell. The pale, worried, confused face. He didn’t know if you had tried to say something or if you were just trying to breathe, but the last gasps that escaped your lips before falling unconscious haunted his mind.

         His throat tightened slightly as he flicked the butt of his cigarette into the open water below him, quickly lighting another while trying not to clench his teeth. How did no one notice? What happened that your back was targeted? His hands clenched the railing underneath him; how didn’t he realize you had been hurt?

         During the fight he had been so focused on not looking at you. Deciding instead to focus on beating more marines than Zoro. Didn’t you cry out for help? Why was your back undefended? Wasn’t anyone fighting with you?

~~~

         You woke up the next day with Chopper fretting over you. Crying and yelling at you for not telling him you had gotten hurt. In the corner of the room, you could see bloody bandages piled into the bin, the lights just slightly too bright for your liking as you attempt to sit up. “What do you think you’re doing?! You need to rest,” Chopper ran back over to you, pushing you down as he heard you wincing.

         “It can’t be that bad…” You mumble trying to think back to the moments before you passed out. It was difficult to think of anything at the moment, your throat was dry and your body felt heavier than normal.

         “Not that bad? You nearly died!” Chopper cried, lecturing you while you stopped listening. The scolding voice going in one ear and out the other as you glance around the room. The reindeer fretting over every movement as he checked over you again.

         “I’m alive.” Your voice was re-assuring as you placed a hand on his shoulder. Even with such a small movement you could tell how tired your body was. “I hope I didn’t cause to much trouble Chopper.” You attempt to smile and it seems to cause the cotton-candy lover to cry. The water works coming out as he yells about how worried he was.

         Robin is the first one to enter the room upon the commotion being heard. Giving you a bowl of soup, “You gave us quite a scare back there.” And just like that everyone visited you as time went on. Never being alone but also not being allowed to get up when you want.

         This biggest thing you noticed though was the lack of Sanji. You could hear him through the wall, prepping food and yelling at crewmates sneaking a taste. Yet he’d never made his way in to check on you like the others. The aching pain in your back almost feeling good compared to your heavy heart.

~~~

         Sanji kept replaying that night in his head. Or really that day. Maybe the past few weeks. His heart sinking further into a pit as his thought about what he could have done differently, what would have been better if he had handled the situation better.

         He never meant to grow feelings for you, and when he felt his heart beat faster, he had thought it was the cigarettes catching up to him. Your cute voice filling his usually empty kitchen as you insisted on helping him. It’s not that no one else offered, it’s that you were just insistent on coming. And who was he to turn a pretty lady away?

         As time passed, he started trusting you with more and more. His normally quiet evenings filled with meal prepping turning into spending time with you. Telling stories of adventures you had had, without the other. Soon enough he had you tasting his food prematurely, something he hadn’t done before, something only Zeff had the pleasure of doing as he honed his skills. He wasn’t sure why but watching as truly taste his food, putting in your thoughts for potential seasonings filled him with joy.

         Even when your alone time together was interrupted, he was more than happy that you were able to fend off the main course while he fixed the others a quick snack. Making sure Luffy didn’t get too many bites of the unfinished food.

And of course, he noticed how you would sneak candy out of the kitchen for Chopper. It was his duty to make sure everyone had a well-balanced nutritious diet, and while he’d scold you from time to time, he always made sure to leave the healthier candy in a easy hiding spot.

Your laugh was another thing, your voice like angels singing in his ears as he drew closer with snacks prepared specifically with you in mind. The appreciative look on your face as you’d take the item from his trey sending him over the edge.

         But that’s the thing. His heart racing was normal. Any women that walked by made him shudder, yet there you were. Seemingly making his heart race to the moon, faster than he’d ever felt it. The almost painful beating in his chest making him begrudgingly go to Chopper to make sure he wasn’t getting sick.

His shock when Chopper said he was as healthy as ever, going on his normal spiel to cut back on smoking but that the moment nothing had changed. It took him another week or two to realize what was causing the increased heart rate. You had been talking to Zoro, laughing with a smile on your face, and all Sanji could feel while watching from afar was a pained beat hammering away.

         He thought he knew what love was. But clearly, he was in fresh waters when it came to you. And despite his bravado, his chivalrous behaviors and language of love, he was scared. Zeff had only ever taught him how to treat a lady, Sanji would see women come and go, but none that held onto his adoptive fathers’ hand for long. And Judge hadn’t a paternal bone in his body when it came to giving advice for the few years Sanji had spent with him. For once, he felt completely unprepared.

         As Sanji smokes the last of his cigarettes, he lets out a frustrated sigh, tossing the empty carton to the side as he starts to chew on his thumb nail instead. His mind twirling with how he should have dealt with his own feelings differently.

         His decision to stay away came hard to him. His heart telling him to follow you to the ends of the world, yet the pain in his chest of being truly rejected, turned down by the first person he’s truly wanted stopped him from pursuing you. He made a conscious effort to stay away as much as possible, but still believing your cooking time together could be his own secret heaven.

         But as time went on, he realized your reactions to him, your delightful noises when you’d finish a task, your happy laughter filling the air of his kitchen, was making him day dream more. The seemingly secret rendezvous in his mind taking precedent in his every waking moment, getting distracted through out the day until you’d find him in the kitchen once again.

         And so, he started to actively ignore you in the kitchen too. Maybe, if he stopped talking to you, his feelings would settle down and his feet would stop turning cold. It worked for a while; his heart settled as it didn’t hear your delightful tones ringing through the air.

         Yet it didn’t last for long. The more measures he put in place to stop his feelings from growing, the more he seemed to fall. So, he swallowed the lump in his throat that fateful day. Not turning to you as you entered the kitchen to help him once again. He uttered those words without looking at you. He knew if he saw you, his resolve would break. His back was tense, waiting for a response from you, and yet it never came.

         Instead, he heard your feet shuffle away, the door closing behind you as you didn’t utter a single word to him. And somehow, that hurt worse than any rejection Sanji had expected. Anger, confusion, anything, but silence? He grits his teeth as his heart pounded like never before, praying that it’d settle down soon, that these feelings he’d never known before would disappear without a trace.

         Sanji bites his thumb, snapping himself out of his thoughts as he stared out into the ocean. He didn’t want to remember the fight with the marines. He didn’t want to remember the trail of blood, leading him to your pale face. He didn’t want to remember as his hands became drenched in your blood, your body turning cold underneath him as Chopper fixed you up. He didn’t want to remember how close you had come to deaths door before you finally turned around to dance on the fence of the afterlife and the living realm.

         “Sanji…” The voice he had dreaded hearing called out to him, anchoring him to the present, the now, as you stood staring at him with some concern in your eyes. His heart froze, seeing you standing, walking, talking felt like a miracle that made it feel like he could breathe again. “I guess I should thank you,” You laugh out lowly, ignoring the own pain in your heart.

         Sanji’s heart sank, your laugh sounded empty and bare, it wasn’t you. He focused on your body, it was too frail, too pale for your complexion as you stood there. “I didn’t think my wounds were that bad…” You trailed off, making light of your own injuries despite your back now littered with stitches soon to be deep scars.

         Sanji’s blood ran cold as you continued to awkwardly joke about the situation, your way to cope with nearly losing your life. You still felt a little light headed when you came out to get fresh air, your breath being taken away when you saw Sanji, and you couldn’t stop yourself before you started talking. And now it seemed as those you couldn’t stop talking, dry laughter leaving your mouth as you attempt to get the man in front of you to speak a single word to you.

         Then, without a second passing, arms were wrapped around you. A tight, yet careful squeeze holding you in place as Sanji buried your face into his chest, his hand resting on the back of your head, lightly stroking your hair. The sudden embraced shut you up, you breathe caught in your throat and your mind going blank as heavy emotions hit you, yet time felt still.

         “I’m sorry,” Sanji whispered, only audible to you, “I…” Sanji choked on his words, his chest jumped a bit as though choking back a sob, unspoken words being conveyed from his actions as tears finally fall down your face. A small wail erupting from your throat as you pressed your face into his dress shirt, your hands bawling the fabric of his shirt as you cried. His soothing hands holding you as you finally let your emotions out into the man you trust the most on the crew.

Tag List: @crocodilethesir @ultraviolencezs @littleleelee @akaashi-todorki @cynwing @tinyweebsstuff @someobsessionrequired @vvyeislazzy @mk-and-her-reblogs @suga-tofu @random-iix @peachycat17 @atinymonbebestay @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @69cocktimusprime @secretlife028 @bankaixx

[l1tw1ck]

Picking Up a Stray

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️ Word Count: 863 🕷️

[Part Two] | AFAB Language Used

i just woke up from a very very very long sleep and wrote this within an hour, i proofread it but there's probably a few mistakes 😭

CW: Non-Con to Con, Vibrator, Public Sex, Squirting, Virginity Loss, Blood, Creampie, miguel has a rape kink

Miguel’s doing errands with a vibrator lodged in his cunt and he's trying so hard to pretend like it doesn't feel good. Like he doesn't want to fall to the floor and let it do its thing, make him come and moan like the slut he is. He takes a shortcut to the last store on his list, determined to get this done. Lyla warns him that he won't make it but he doesn't listen. He turns the wrong way despite Lyla giving him directions, he’s distracted by the rapid buzzing in his pussy and mindlessly walks into a dead end. Nobody seems to come this way. He could rest here for a moment and no one would see him. Lyla tells him not to, she has the directions for the closest bathroom and urges him to hold out a bit longer. He can't. He falls to the ground along with his bags and gives in to the vibrator, even stroking his erect t-dick through his pants to expedite the process. He had no reason to though, as he squirts only moments later.

Lyla tells him he's no longer alone and his eyes shoot towards the exit. Fuck. He’s screwed (literally). You walk towards him and look down at him. "Today must be my lucky day." You whistle, grabbing his shirt and lifting him up. Miguel considers himself a pretty heavy guy, the fact that you can pick him up is terrifying.

"Leave me alone." He growls. He can’t feel Lyla anymore. He doesn't know what happened to her but he’s all alone now.

"Don’t act like you don't want this, kitty." You pull down his pants and then his panties, his slick is hesitant to part with the fabric, sticking to it almost like a spider web.

"I don't!" He yells. He tries to move around and fight you but to no avail. You’re determined to fuck him. You shove your fingers inside him, making him moan, and pull out the vibrator. You bring it to your face, taking in the smell before licking up all the slick it's collected. You drop it on the ground and free your hard cock with just one hand.

Miguel's breath hitches when he sees your length. It’s thick, veiny, and long. Screw what he said before. He wants this. He’s always had a fantasy like this, where he gets raped by some rando with a big dick. He never thought he'd actually want it. But maybe part of him did, maybe that's why he decided to use a vibrator today. He wanted the thrill, the possibility of getting caught and having to take responsibility for it.

Despite this revelation, he continues to act like he doesn't want it. He pretends to be angry as you push him against the wall and lift him into the air, his legs held up by your strong hands. He looks down and watches you rub your cock along his messy pussy, your precum drips down onto his womb, making him twitch.

"please.." He whimpers. "Please don't." He continues his facade, getting insanely turned on when he sees your reaction.

"Oh, kitty, even if you cry, I won't let you go. It’ll only make me want you more." You bring your tip to his entrance. He gulps. He's going to lose his virginity to a stranger in an alleyway. Why does he love that so much? You shove your length into him, making him throw his head back. He bites his lip, holding back his moans. You let out a curse. "You’re tight. So, so fucking tight.." You dig your nails into his flesh and start pounding into him. Miguel covers his mouth with his hands, tears starting to fall thanks to the pain of losing his virginity. He knows he's bleeding and he loves it. He's unbelievably horny right now.

You look down at where the two of you meet and notice a coat of cum and blood on your shaft. "This is your first time?" You ask, voice shaky. He nods, sniffling. "Shit." You fuck him even rougher, excited to be the one who took his virginity. Miguel can't help but come, squirting hard. "You like this, don't you?" You smirk, licking your lips. "It's okay, kitty, be honest." You pry his hands away.

Miguel whimpers. "I lo- love it~" He moans.

You chuckle. "Of course you do." You bring him into a kiss and despite his inexperience he happily reciprocates it. He feels your thrusts losing their rhythm, does that mean…? His pussy convulses around your length, excited to be filled up with your cum. The feeling of that quickly brings you to your orgasm.

You pull away from the kiss and look at his blissed out expression. "I don't typically take in strays but I'll make an exception for you." You pull out of him and put his clothes back on, forcing him to walk around with your cum inside him. Not that he doesn't want that. He looks at you as you grab his hand, he’s barely aware of what's happening. He lets you take him to your home, leaving his bags in the alleyway.

[beenbaanbuun]

romance tropes i associate w/ ateez:

this is not proofread or formatted because i was supposed to start getting ready to leave my apartment half an hour ago and now i’m rushing lmaooo. i’ll proofread and format it when i get back from the knocked loose gig 🫶

seonghwa -bridesmaid and bestman

it’s your sisters wedding and everything is going great, except for the fact that you haven’t spoken to a single person for the past 45 minutes

you can’t help but feel a little lonely as you sit in the corner and bulldoze your way through the bottle of wine you’ve been left alone with

and then you feel a soft tap on your shoulder, and the familiar sound of a chair being dragged against the wooden floor rings through the room

you spin around just in time to see the groom’s best friend sitting down beside you, empty wine glass in hand

“nice ceremony, wasn’t it?” he says as he grabs the wine bottle and begins to pour himself a generous helping

you hum in response as you tilt your own glass towards him - he takes the hint and fills it for you

“my sister looks so pretty,” you say, and the man in front of you nods along

“not as pretty as the maid of honour, though,” he responds, “i couldn’t quite believe it when i spotted her all alone in the corner with no one taking care of her.”

you giggle in response to his obvious flirting - two can play at that game

“so you decided to come and snatch me up for yourself, did you?”

he nods with a straight face, but you can see the teasing glint in his eye

“of course,” he responds, “i’m not leaving your side until i’ve either got a dance from you, or i have your number in my phone.”

he smiles wide at you, and you can’t help but smile back

“well you’re handsome enough for me to consider giving you both,” he chuckles at your words, “but the question is which one do you want first?”

he offers you his hand

“i think i’ll take the dance.”

hongjoong - blind date

it seems your mum has finally grown fed up of you showing up to every family event empty handed

which is precisely how you end up standing outside one of the most notoriously expensive restaurants in your neighbourhood

it’s where your blind date suggested, and despite your incessant denial, your mother had accepted on your behalf

you walk inside, a sour look on your face as the host steps forward to ask for your reservation

“i think his name was hongjoong?” you sigh, “he told me to meet him here at 8 for a blind date…”

the woman’s eyes go wide and she smiles at you, the words ‘lucky bitch’ falling from her tongue before she can even stop them

“hardly,” you respond as she guides you through the fancy place, “i don’t even want to be here…”

your voice trails off as she slows down and stops at a table with a man already seated on one of the chairs

you thank the woman as you sit down; she sends you a quick wink in return before darting off to no doubt gossip with the other staff members

and then you turn your attention to the man before you to see he’s already looking at you with wide eyes

“you’re my date?” he asks, to which you nod in response, “shit! when my friend set this up i wasn’t expecting someone so pretty.”

your face heats up at his compliment

“oh, uh, thank you,” you stutter out, “likewise, i guess. my mum organised it on my behalf; i thought it would be some stiff-necked guy that thinks too highly of himself.”

“you’re happy with me, then?” he smiles

“very happy…”

yunho - brothers best friend

“i don’t care that he’s here, i’m just asking why?” you whisper to your mum as you watch yunho and your brother mess around in the pool

it’s spring break, and whilst you certainly don’t mind the addition of the tall dancer, you hadn’t been allowed to bring a friend of your own

“it was last minute honey,” you mum replies, “his parents are half-way through a divorce and i wanted to help take his mind off of it!”

you suppose that’s as good of a reason as any, but that still feel cheated

suddenly you hear a yell from the water, and a whole load of splashing; you turn your attention to the pool to see yunho swimming to your brother who has a hand covering his nose

“nosebleed?” your mum called over to the boys; they nod, “i know where the first aid kit is. come on!”

your brother climbs out of the pool and follows your mum inside, leaving the pool area in an awkward silence

“you know you’re never going to get a tan sitting in the shake like that,” yunho breaks it with a laugh, “you should move to this subbed over here.”

you quirk your brow at him as you see him point to the one right by the pool

“you mean the one that gives you access to stare at me?”

he shrugs, “i’m just looking out for you, kiddo.”

you scoff at the nickname; he’s always called you that despite the age gap being almost non-existent

“don’t call me that when you’re flirting with me, yun.”

“why?” he says with a smirk, “would you rather i called you baby?”

yeosang - soulmates

it had been a slow morning in the cafe, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it had given you a lot of time to think about your soulmate mark which is burning where it sits on your wrist

KYS, it reads, which you would find funny if it was scrawled on someone else’s wrist

the subreddit you’d spent most of your morning surreptitiously scrolling through says it means you’ll meet your soulmate soon

you’ll believe that when you see it…

“‘scuse me?” a voice rips you out of your mindless doomscrolling and you quickly put a smile on your face and look up at the man at the counter

your sure your smile looks more like a grimace with how bad the mark has started burning on your wrist

“welcome,” you stutter out, “what can i get for you?”

he studies the menu which gives you the perfect opportunity to study the pretty man in front of you

you can’t help but notice his hand gripping at his opposite wrist in the exact same place your own soul mark it hurting

“an americano,” he eventually stutters out, “iced and medium, please.”

you nod, grabbing a cup and a marker pen, “can i take a name?”

“yeosang,” he replies and your soul mark burns even more, “but you can just write KYS if it’s easier.”

you pause for a second; was the subreddit right?

“KYS?” you mutter to yourself, “this sounds crazy, but can i show you something?”

he shrugs and you take it as an ‘okay’, so you tug up your sleeve to reveal the three letters on your arm

san - strangers-to-lovers

the gym, also known as your own personal hell; it’s funny that you’ve somehow ended up there in a saturday morning

you’re not even sure how in all honesty, and as you stare into the vast space filled with nothing but men and metal, you feel a little intimidated

still, it’s too late to turn back now so you take a few unsure steps into the room, halting at a piece of equipment that looks more like a torture device

“how the-” you mutter to yourself, but get cut off when a tall man walks up beside you

“are you using this thing?” he asks, and you turn your attention to him, “it’s just its next in my routine, but i don’t mind waiting if you’re already using it.”

you shake your head as you stare at him, feeling a little more than slightly intimidated

he’s tall, buff and hot, not to mention that he clearly knows what he’s doing in the gym

“you can go,” you stutter, “i, uh, i’m not too sure how to use it myself; i’m new to all this.”

his face light up at your confession, the stoic expression melting into something sweeter, more excited

“you’re serious?” he beams at you, “that’s so cool! i’m proud of you for starting your gym journey.”

you shrug, not really knowing how to reply; the man seems to have no issue carrying on the conversation for you, though

“my names san,” he sticks out a hand which you take out of politeness, “if you want you can take my number; i’m here most days so if you ever want someone to work out with…”

you think it over for a few seconds before deciding ‘what the hell?’ the man is attractive and seems genuinely enthusiastic to get to know you

might as well get something positive out of this whole gym thing, right?

mingi - fake boyfriend

you’d always spend winter break alone, which was never a pleasant thing when spending the season with your family

this year, however, you decided things would be different

it turns out a friend of a friend wasn’t actually going home for the holidays

and with the promise of free food he was actually pretty easy to convince to be your pretend boyfriend for the season

you spent days upon days creating some sort of believable story to tell your family, as well as learning everything there is to know about eachother

the plan was seamless, and on your first evening in your family home, the two of you had done a spectacular job at convincing your entire family

but there was just one little detail the two of you hadn’t foreseen, and now as you stand in your room it finally sinks in

“i can sleep on the floor,” you suggest, “you take the bed; you’re the guest, afterall.”

mingi shakes his head

“i might be a guest, but i’m still a gentleman,” he refuses, and you can’t help but laugh

“i’ve learned enough about you to know that you are anything but a gentleman, mingi.”

“well you’re hardly a perfect little princess yourself,” he can’t help but chuckle in response

you hum in agreement, but soon fall back into silence as you try and work out some sort of solution to the one-bed problem

“we could just share?” you suggest after a second or two

he cocks his brow at you

“you’d be okay with that?” you just shrug in response before crawling into your bed and patting the mattress next to you

“come on in before i change my mind.”

wooyoung - rivals-to-lovers

you stare at the F at the top of your page, a flurry of emotions rushing through you

you’d never gotten anything below a C before and now all of a sudden you’ve failed?

sure you’d taken a little bit of a backseat when you were studying for this exam, but you were almost certain you knew enough of the material to at least get a B

yet you’d failed

you feel a presence walk up behind you and you sigh; you’d recognise the sound of those cocky little footsteps anywhere

“i’m not in the mood, wooyoung,” you grumble, hoping it would deter your rival for just a little while

“why not?” he teases as he walks up beside you, “are you really that sure i’ve beaten you?”

you don’t reply, but by the way he gasps, you can tell he’s already caught sight of your failure; you sigh, waiting for what’s about to come

“you… failed?” his voice is soft, not an ounce of teasing in his tone, “dude, that’s- i- are you alright?”

perhaps it’s the lack of cruelness in his voice, you’re not sure, but you feel the need to be vulnerable with him

“not really,” you shake your head, “i don’t know what happened.”

an awkward hand finds its way to your shoulder, fingers lightly tapping a pattern against your back

“i can help you if you want?” he suggests, “like, i don’t know, tutor you or something?”

you finally look at him, purely to check whether or not he’s joking

his face is serious though, and that kind of stumps you

“why would you do that for me?” he just shrugs

“i like our little rivalry,” if you look closely you can see a dusting of pink over his cheeks, “i think it’s cute when you get all angry at me for beating you, or when you’re all smug when you do better… we can’t have that if you’re getting F’s.”

jongho - friends-to-lovers

you walk out of your exam with a frown on your face; saying that it went bad would be an understatement

all you want to do is crawl up into a ball and forget about life for a while, but then you spot him

“jongho,” you yell, pulling his attention away from his phone

with a grin he slides it into his back pocket, opening his arms for you to give him a running hug

you take the opportunity, slamming into his chest at full force; he wastes no time in folding his arms around you

“how’d it go?” he asks as he begins to sway your conjoined bodies from side to side

“oh, it went horribly,” you admit, “i’m going to go home and eat an obscene amount of ice cream to make me feel better.”

he nods at your suggestion

“you could,” he agrees, “or we could go to that one cafe and pretend to get engaged so we get free desert?”

you can’t help but look up at him with furrowed brows

“engaged?” you cant lie that the idea makes your heart flutter, “what happened to the birthday meta?”

it’s a valid question; the two of you normally go to a cafe and tell the staff it’s your birthday so you can share the desert

engagement is a new one, but you’re willing to hear him out

“well,” he begins, face falling into full seriousness, “if you think about it, we only get one desert when we use the birthday meta; my hypothesis is that we get two deserts if we claim we’re engaged.”

you consider his reply for a few seconds

“fair argument,” you hum, “counterpoint; do you not think they’ll give us just the one desert for ‘romantic’ purposes? you know, feed each other with a spoon, type shit.”

jongho just shrugs

“i’m fine with that if you are.”

[velocesainz]

Hii!

Could you possibly do a Percy Jackson smut with Percy fucking the brat out of reader, his rival? Rough sex with degrading and praise pls and ty 🫶🏼🫶🏼

A/n:This was quite an interesting request for me to write, thank you for the idea! All character have been aged up (19-20)

More than rivalry

Percy jackson masterlist | main masterlist

Summary: Percy gets jealous seeing you (his rival) with another boy and decides to fuck you to make sure you remember that you are his but you end up being too cocky for his liking

Warnings: smut, degradation

Pairing: Percy x daughter of Zeus! Reader

Reader pov:

I was practising my archery skills with some Apollo kids and we were actually having a lot of fun

Over the time I had spent Robert over the past few days perfecting my archery we both really grew close together

He was one of the very few people at camp who were actually friends with me for me and not because I was Zeus’s daughter.

While we were training I clumsily fell over a rock and was about to go crash into the ground but Robert caught me in time.

We stayed in the position for a little bit not knowing what to do.

We looked at each other with soft and gentle eyes, like how friends would rather than people who like each other though it seemed otherwise to most.

It was a sweet moment we both were trying to savour when a bellowing voice split us apart

“Oi thunder witch! What are you doing, let the poor guy out of his misery and do some practising on your own yea?” Yelled the voice that I really didn’t want to hear right now

Percy motherfucking Jackson

“Ocean ass how about you go bother someone else. He’s here with me at his own will for your kind information. Care more about your friends yea?” I retorted

I wanted to leave the arena as fast as possible so I bid Robert goodbye and left for my cabin

Percy pov:

Crisis averted.

I didn’t let Robert and y/n have their moment.

Why the fuck out of all the girls here does Robert have to go for y/n?

He has like a hundred girls dying for him.

Doesn’t he know she’s mine?

I know we seem like enemies but I wish to fuck like every second of the day at this point

She’s just so beautiful and that attitude damn.

I had a plan to get y/n away from every other guy, not just Robert.

Reader pov:

I was sitting in my cabin reading a book when I heard a knock on my door

That’s odd, I thought

Nobody was usually free at this hour in the evening

Everyone was too busy scheming for capture the flag except me of course

I wasn’t allowed to participate along with Percy since we were a tad bit overpowered

I walked over and opened the door and before I could figure out who it was they shoved me against the wall and started kissing me

I pushed the figure away and tried to run but they caught me

“Don’t try to run bitch. You need to be taught a lesson. Now be a good little slut and listen to what I say or the consequences will be severe for you” the figure whispered in my ear.

Then I realised who it was

Percy.

I was feeling cocky today so I decided to tease him a little

“You sure you can be intimidating and dominating seaweed brain? I don’t think you can even satisfy me forget punishing me”I replied with a smirk gracing my features

“Oh you asked for this whore. By the time I’m done with you you will be so dumb for my cock that you won’t even remember your name. Just you wait “ he said in a Husky voice which turned me on more than I would like to admit

He started removing my clothes as fast as he could and I couldn’t help but sneak in a cheeky comment

“Desperate are we?” Boy oh boy was this a bad decision

“I’m going to fuck that cocky attitude right out of you. You really just can’t keep your mouth shut can you whore?” Percy said and threw me in my bed

Undressing himself he got on the bed and made his way towards me like a predator approaching its prey

He moved my panties to the side and roughly shoved his cock inside me without any warning

“A-ah p-p-Percy that hurts sto-“ I was cut off by a slap I received

“Shut the fuck up slut. You were the one who was acting all cocky just a few minutes ago. Bitches like you don’t deserve to be cared for” Percy panted as he continued thrusting in and out

His pace was ungodly. He kept thrusting in and out of me letting my pussy drink up his cock

I felt like I was losing my mind as he hit my g-spot repeatedly completely abusing it

“O-oh fuck your pussy is tight. G-gods I’m going to come. Ah yea just like that” He whispered huskily

“I am going to cum too Percy” I told him

“No no. You don’t get to cum you little slut. You’ve been a really back whore for me. You don’t get to cum today, deal with it yourself” Percy said as he came in me

He got dressed quickly and left leaving me a panting and unsatisfied mess

Goddamit jackson.

A/n: let me know if you guys liked this fic or if you have any feedback! Requests are still on hold unfortunately but they’ll be opened soon. Kissies ✨

[misstycloud]

Love on a loop

What the hell do you do when you can’t seem to break up, no matter what you do?

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You stared blankly at him, a hundred questions ran through your head all at once. On the inside, you were panicking. You had experinced a range of emotions in just a span of a few hours; pain, regret, sadness, anger and great confusion.

All this happened while he, you boyfriend, simply looked at you with an unsure smile. He tilted his head and asked with a slight chuckle, “Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he decided to return to his previous question, of which you didn’t respond to either. “Ehm, do you want one egg or two? We only have three right now, but you can have the two, since I feel bad about always eating all the eggs.” He laughed.

You finally decided to speak. Your voice wavered a bit when you inquired, “What are you doing here?”

Your boyfriend paused his happy expression, and frowned. He glanced around as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I live here? Or have you gotten a mysterious case of amnesia?” He joked.

“No, you don’t- not anymore.” Your emotions turned to annoyance, and it was evident in your tone how displeased you were with him.

The irritation in your tone gave away that you really were angry at him and that it was not a silly attempt to be funny. What you could be upset about, he had no clue. He searched in his mind for anything he could’ve done to land him in the dog-house, but found it empty. There was nothing he could think of that would start a fight.

Your boyfriend switched off the stove and gave you his full attention. He asked in genuine bewilderment, “Love, is everything alright? Have I done something to make you mad at me- although, considering you liked me yesterday, I frankly can’t imagine how I could’ve fucked up so fast.”

Your mouth fell open. The audacity! “What are you doing? Why are you back here? I don’t get what you’re playing at but it is not funny. I just- what??” You pointed towards the door. “Get out!” You didn’t like to shout, however, this situation demanded some force, whether it was pleasant or not.

It was evident on his face that your yelling had hurt him. That sad, hopeless expression always made you melt in the beginning of your relationship. Everytime you would fight, he would put it on full display and immediately after you’d feel bad and apologise for whatever the fight was about. He stayed quiet as he untied the apron around his waist and hung it on a chair.

“Hey….I don’t know what this is about- seriously, I don’t! But you need to tell me if somethings wrong, I can’t help fixing it otherwise.” He held his arms up in surrender and began approaching you.

“No, don’t come closer, you need to go! Get out.”

“Love, I’m gonna hug you now. Is that okay?” He continued his advance. The way he spoke to you reminded you of someone trying to soothe a frightened animal; yes, you were freaking out- because of him! He was the one acting weird.

You backed up against the wall. “I don’t want your hugs- no, don’t touch me!” You felt a shiver down your spine as the familiar embrace surrounded you.

Your attempts to pull away proved fruitless, his grip was like iron chains. There was no way you could get free. Still, your small tugs continued even after you’d exhausted all of your strength. Your boyfriend stroked you hair, undoubtedly to calm you down. It was meant to be comforting, but the only thing you felt was uneasiness.

This was crazy. You had no idea what was going on. You were absolutely certain that the two of you broke things off for good yesterday.

You’d waited for him to come home that day, which he did, all happy of course; now he was able to see you. You had decided to cook his favourite meal in preparation to soften the blow. It was unlikely it would do anything to help, but it was worth trying anyway. You recalled how his mood turned from happy to totally elated. He chuckled and asked if there was any special occasion(it was, although not in the way he wanted).

You say him down and let him eat himself half-full before you broke the news to him: you were planning on leaving him. He took it surprisingly well compared to the expected reaction. Of course, there was the crying and self-blame, but after that he seemed to accept your decision with a sniffle. He was kind enough to let you have the apartment, he insisted even as you said that there was no need to concern about it yet and you could decide later on. He packed his essentials in a bag and threw the rest of his belongings into boxes and moved out the same evening. Again, you explained he didn’t have to but he said it was fine; he wanted to be out of your hair as fast as possible.

He seemed fine. There was no yelling at you and no big storm that came. So you let him leave(to a friends place, he said) and after a couple drink, you went to bed. The day had stressed you out to the point of exhaustion.

So why was your ex back in your apartment, and why did everything look the same like before, it’s as if yesterday never happened. Because, it did…right?

“It’s alright, sweetie. You’re safe, I’m here to protect you so don’t be scared.” He let go of you just enough to look up at him. “Mind telling me what got you freaked out this morning?”

“Yes: YOU.” Sending him a furious scowl, you said, “You are what’s got me so freaked out. Mind telling me why you are back?”

His expression was mixed with dejection and confusion. “I’m sorry. I really don’t understand what you mean.”

“Don’t play fucking dumb. We broke up. You moved out. Explain why you’re here and why-“ you gestured around the apartment “- did you put up all your things again? We are over, you need to accept that and move on.”

You wouldn’t call yourself a mind reader, however, it was easy to see that your eruption shocked him and sent his mind into a downwards spiral.

He spoke with urgency. “What? Broke up? Why would we do that? I don’t-“ he looked away and inhaled deeply. “I would never leave you.” Staring into your eyes, he asked in a quivering voice, “Are you not happy with me, is that it? Please, make me understand.”

“We already had this conversation-“

“When?” He interuppted you.

“Yesterday!”

He shook his head. “I think I would remember an important conversation like this. Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

You gaped at him. “It wasn’t a dream- I would know if it was. It was real and it happened. You are playing me, because what? Because I told you the truth that this is not healthy? This is not what a relationship should be like.”

“How is this not a good relationship? I love you and you love me. Is anything more needed?”

Your boyfriend could seemingly not honestly comprehend your point.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “A relationship can’t be when two partners are so dependant on each other- like we are. We need other people too, it can’t be just us forever. Like, my friends don’t even bother to invite me to stuff anymore because I’ve always had to say ‘no’ because I’m constantly doing something with you. Can’t you see, I’m spending every waking moment with you? Hell, I barely talk to my family anymore.”

“I’m fine with only being with you. I don’t care about seeing anyone else, you’re all that matter to me. I don’t need other- is it not the same for you?” You noticed the tears brimming his eyes.

Sighing, you let yourself be honest. “No. It’s not enough for me. I’m sorry, but I can’t let my entire life be ruled and centered around you.”

The air was still around you. It was quiet. While you’d previously desired him to shut up, now you found yourself willing to do anything to make him say something. Finally, he spoke.

“Oh, wow. Okay.” His attention was focused on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, Love, I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t mean for you to- you know.”

“It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean for me to feel bad. And besides, it’s partly my fault too. I can’t put all the blame on you.”

You ex tried attempted a little laugh, it came out forced and not at all smooth like he’d imagined. “I dunno what kind of dream you had, but maybe it was a sign- for us to…move on and stuff- I’m not mad though, I want you to understand that.

“Yeah.”

“Ooof, I guess that it’s also a sign for me to move out?”

You nodded. He was obviously depressed, however, he still tried smiling for you. You supposed he didn’t want you to feel bad. Within two hours he was ready to go. He sure was a fast packer when he wanted to.

Just like in your dream, you told him he didn’t need to move out directly, and similarly, he also said it was no bother. After he went, you breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed on your (formerly shared) bed.

It went well, didn’t it? You thought.

He agreed to break up without any fight. It was good. You could relax. You closed your eyes and let sleep come to you.

What you weren’t prepared for was to be awoken by the smell of cooking. You groaned and rolled out of bed. Checking the clock you saw that it was still a little early. You followed the noise to the kitchen.

“Hey, I was just about to wake you up. Do you want one egg or two?”

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This fic didn’t really turn out exactly like I wanted to. Sorry if it seemed a little rushed at the end. Hope it’s still acceptable tho

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

[sun-kissy]

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l. (part 3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

barista!remus x shy!reader

You smoothen the ruffles on your dress, twirling this way and that. One last glance at the mirror was spent convincing yourself you looked fine before you finally stepped out of your apartment.

The wind blew your hair back as you walked, the click-clack of your boots on the pavement mirroring the thumping of your heart. It was loud and fast, so much so that you wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bomb waiting to explode in you.

The barista, Remus — possibly the loveliest human being on earth, had invited you to a poetry reading at Beanie’s. He scribbled down his number onto your coffee cup too, which had to have meant something.

The nerves were starting to get the better of you, your heart climbing its way up your throat as you neared the café. 

This was the first time you so desperately wished that you hadn’t majored in literature, that you didn’t feel the impact of words as deeply as you did. A poetry reading would definitely trigger the part of you which didn’t shut up once uncorked, and you were praying you didn’t mess this whole thing up with your tendency to ramble.

Beanie’s was always crowded, but as you pushed the door open, the largeness of the mob was startlingly obvious. You couldn’t help but think it looked more like a fish market than a café, feeling skin against skin as you pushed past people.

There was a small stage set up at the corner, fairy lights strung above it. At the moment, there was a teenage girl timidly reciting something from a scrunched up piece of paper. You paid her no heed, craning your neck to find Remus.

Just then, an arm wrapped around your waist and you yelp, head swivelling to come face to face with Madison. “Hi, gorgeous.”

You sigh, feeling the tension leave your shoulders as she gives you a peck on the cheek. Of course, she came. Your best friend wouldn’t shut up for hours after you told her Remus had given you his number. “Hey.”

“Where is he?” she asks immediately, trying to follow your line of vision.

You shrug, eyes darting around till you spot someone’s gaze trained on you from across the café. It’s not Remus, by any means. But he’s undeniably attractive, long black curls and tattoos all over. Once you finally meet his eyes, he grins and wriggles his eyebrows. Who the fuck —

Just then, Remus sticks his head out from behind the stranger and beams at you, giving you a wave. You immediately shift your gaze to him, your heart feeling like it can’t decide whether it wants to be in your throat or chest.

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you wave back, trying to shove your way over to him with Madison on your heels. 

“And now, we’ve got Remus Lupin, with The Bell Jar by Sylvia… um… Plait? Plaque! Sylvia Plaque!” a waiter suddenly squeaks into the microphone before scurrying off stage. You pause in your movements, Remus giving you an almost apologetic smile before he climbs up.

“Hello,” he tests the microphone, his lips curving upwards as some members in the crowd cheer. You notice that the black-haired man from earlier seemed particularly enthusiastic, yelling “Go, Moony!” and sticking his fingers in his mouth to whistle.

You train your vision back on Remus as he starts to speak. “So, this isn’t exactly a poem,” he starts. “It’s an excerpt from one of my favourite books. And it really resonated with me, so I’d like to share it with you.”

You listen silently, anticipating whatever he was going to say next. It was alarming how much this mattered to you, that he had good choices in stories and poems and words. Because how were you to fall in love with a man who didn’t feel lingo as deafeningly as he felt the beat of his heart? He wouldn’t be able to understand you; you were sure, if he couldn’t listen to the silent pleas of scribbles on pages. You conversed like a book, like you were begging to be understood and silently guarded in the heart of one’s brain – and you only hoped that there was someone out there willing to peruse scripture after scripture till he memorised the language of your lips. Right now, you were really wishing that someone was the gorgeous man in front of you.

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story…”

Your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in his soliloquy. You don’t just hear his speech, but you listen. You listen to the ache that seeps into his voice, the silent rasp of air leaving his lips as he stresses on words he deems important, the sheer longing etched in every word. And you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his gaze on you, you could feel the string connecting his heart straight to yours.

“...they plopped to the ground beneath my feet,” he finishes. A slow, somewhat hesitant round of applause sounds in the café.

You open your eyes, unsurprised to find them misty. You bring your fingers to your cheeks and swipe the tears away. Madison was gripping one of your hands, squeezing it. The both of you were used to this, your onslaught of tears whenever you felt a little too hard. 

You watch as Remus steps off the stage, disappearing into the sea of people. Someone else climbs up, and you zone out, getting lost in your thoughts once more.

“Hey.” You blink, looking up to see Remus in front of you now, his pretty face scrunched up a bit in worry. “Hey, Y/n. You okay? Saw you getting a little emotional just now.”

Madison makes a small squeal of excitement, and Remus flashes her a small smile before turning back to you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

A teary chuckle bubbles out of you, “Sorry, yeah, I’m all good. It’s just – that was really something. It hurt in the best way. You have great taste, you know.”

He softens at your confession, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. “Thank you. And I get it, I couldn’t stop crying for almost an hour when I first read it.”

You let out a real laugh at the thought of that, and his smile breaks into a grin. He reaches forward, and you barely have a moment to comprehend it before he’s wiping away the tears on your cheeks. You really hope he can’t feel the heat emanating from your skin, or hear the giggles from beside you.

You make it a point to shoot Madison a dirty look as he pulls his hand away. “On another note,” he starts, and you can hear his slight cockiness at having you all flustered, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course –” you meant to say that you’d cleared your schedule to be able to make it, but the words die on your tongue as he whips a rose stalk out from behind his back and holds it out for you.

You stare up at him blankly, feeling your heartbeat growing more erratic by the second. “A small thank you for attending.”

“You give it to all the customers, then?”

“No. Just the prettiest one.”

You press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from gasping, and shakily reach out to take the flower from him. Twisting it in your fingers, you feel your heart start to turn to mush – he had cut off all the thorns on the stalk.

“Thank you.”

He grins, and it’s more endearing than the rose between your fingers. A sideway glance at your best friend tells you she’s at the edge of combusting into giggles and swoons.

“Hello, lovely ladies.”

Your gaze shifts to the right of Remus to see that man, the good-looking one who had been staring at you from afar. You arch an eyebrow, but Madison matches his energy. “Hey, handsome.”

His eyes linger on you. “You’re Y/n, I assume. Moony – Remus has told me all about you.” Your heart does a backflip and you glance at Remus, only to find him already smiling at you.

“But you,” he turns to your best friend, his thoughtful expression morphing into a grin. “Who might you be?”

“Madison.”

“Madison,” he drawls. “Sirius.”

You watch as Sirius compliments her dress, and she turns a red so deep it could rival how you had been minutes ago. And you smile, because you knew she’d been belittling herself over her appearance with the baby bump.

Remus silently tugs on your hand, steering you away from them. He glances over at the two of them again, grinning. “Sorry about Sirius. The asshole can be such a flirt.”

You huff out a laugh. “No, it’s quite alright. Madison’s quite the lovergirl herself, and god knows she needs this after her previous relationship.”

He nods understandingly, and a silence settles over the two of you. “I’m glad you came. You know, studying literature and stuff, I thought you’d like it.”

“I’m glad I came too. But I’m sorry you had to see me like –” you chuckle nervously, doing a jazz hands in front of your face, “like this, tears and all.”

His curls bounce as he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn’t help but think that all the creative evocations you’ve ever read fell short in comparison to the depth of his eyes. “That’s nothing to apologise for, sweet girl. You look just as lovely even when you’re crying.”

You pull your lip between your teeth to stop the smile from spreading across your face, feeling your heart do a somersault in your chest.

“Babe –” Madison comes over, out of breath. “Can we leave? I still haven’t gotten the groceries for tonight. And you’re helping me with dinner.”

You glance over her shoulder to see Sirius watching her with hearts in his eyes, and you let out a soft snicker when you see tints of Madison’s maroon lipstick on his cheek. “Okay.”

Madison starts pulling you towards the exit. You cast a glance at Remus, smiling and waving.

“Y/n!” Remus calls out, and you tug on Madison’s fingers to get her to stop.

“Yeah?”

“How else would you like me to see you?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He chuckles. “You said you didn’t want me to see you like this, in tears. How else – where else can I see you, sweetness?”

Your heart jolts at his obvious attempts at flirting, and how easily it was working.

“Tammy’s Bookstore,” you almost mumble, shyness flooding into your voice. “8pm to 12am shift.”

Remus seems to have gotten the answer he wanted. “Cool. I’ll see you there sometime.”

You turn around before he can see how pink you’ve turned, urging Madison out the shop.

“And sweetheart? Use the phone number.”

a/n: okay so i had a lot of fun with this part!! but i'd love to hear feedback, if you think maybe i'm sidetracking or you have any ideas for the next part <3 also the excerpt mentioned is about how we can't take every opportunity we wish we could in our short life, and it's from the bell jar by Sylvia Plath. agonisingly beautiful, hits you right in the feels!! here it is if you're interested :)

[shankschewtoy]

Yo I got this idea from your pickle fic you did a couple months ago.

Monster trio,law and kidd super gluing a pickle jar and ask their s/o to open it and to their surprise their s/o opens it without any problems

I love your crack fics so much

Please and ty

a/n - I’m so glad you like my humor because sometimes I feel like I’m so unfunny 😂💜 oml kidd would break the jar (also I can’t fit all of the characters so I had to omit Sanji 😭😭)

Warnings ⚠️ - I bully Kidd, crack, g/n reader

- Bro thought that maybe he could troll you back since he couldn’t open the pickle jar a couple days ago (he’s still depressed, so no one talks about it) y’all just pretend it never happened

- zoro: hah! Remember that time when you couldn’t open the-

- everyone: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

- luffy: huh?

- poor zoro 💀 he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to talk about it since they left him at the previous island

- He was all tightening the pickle jar with the glue, giggling and kicking his feet just imagining you not being able to open it like him, so you’d be embarrassed like him. (He’s evil, beware)

- he skipped over to you and handed you a pickle jar, “Hey y/n, can you open it for me while I go grab something to eat?”

- you nodded, grabbing the pickle jar and opening it with ease. Huh, that’s weird, why would Luffy ask you to open it?

- he had such a big mischievous grin when he came back and then when he saw the pickle jar sitting next to you, the cap right next to it, oml he freaked out

- “HUH? HOW DID YOU OPEN IT-?!”

- “What do you mean? It was super loose.”

- ….

- nah he’s dead now watch him go sob in the corner

- man was sobbing for about an hour or two before Sanji was able to feed him some meat to make him stop crying. Has ptsd with pickle jars now- and you felt bad so you gave him a jar for him to open (you could’ve opened it but you wanted to make him feel tough and strong 💜💜)

- “Luffy, I just can’t open this thing, can you open it?”

- The way his eyes lit up and he just RAN to help you, “MHM! Sure!”

- opened it without a problem and puffed his chest out, crossing his arms, “Shishishi~ I’m strong!!!!”

- “You’re the strongest captain ever! King of the pirates! Roger wishes he was you!!!” -you

- He was giggling, flexing his muscles and all lmfao

- man Luffy is lucky to have you as his personal best cheerleader 💜💜😭

- oh nah, the prank you did on him did not end well 💀 man literally blew up and poor killer had to just sit there in the midst of his explosion (his mental health was harmed in the process of this)

- things chilled out after you managed to give him a hug and some cuddles and coaching him through calming breaths (he does yoga to relax you can’t convince me otherwise)

- Kidd the yogi 💀💀💀

- So he decided that it’d be absolutely hilarious to do the same pickle jar prank on you bec he’s an asshole and a dumbass

- Idk how he did it, but he spent all night formulating and researching which glue was the best until he just decided to weld it shut

- “Kidd what are you doing?” -killer

- “Go to bed killer.”

- stfu Kidd don’t be mean to your best friend 💀

- fast forward to the time of the prank, he handed you the jar with a literal shit eating grin on his face, bro could not stop giggling (sounds like a fucking clown. And I don’t mean in a good way.)

- “Why are you giggling..?” -you

- “No reason >:)”

- You opened it, continuing to watch your show on the tv, handing it back to him. There was a moment of silence that lasted about 5 minutes. He was not moving, blinking, nor breathing for that matter. Killer walked by the room, and took a picture before walking away 💀

- man just started yelling outta nowhere, scaring the literal shit out of you

- “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?!” -Kidd

- “WHAT THE FUCK KIDD?!” -you

- “HOW DID YOU FUCKING OPEN IT?”

- “IT WAS FUCKING LOOSE.”

- “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WELDED THE FUCKIN THING SHUT!”

- “…..”

- “Why the fuck did you weld it shut you dumbass?” -you

- he beat you up (correction) you beat him up for even trying to beat you up

- he didn’t seem that affected by your prank earlier but trust me, he’s crying on the inside, praying to corazon and asking: why tf am I so fucking weak

- after you told him it was just a joke he was pretty mad and ignored you for about a day (before he just couldn’t ignore the love of his life anymore😂)

- but yeah lesson learned, don’t do it again

- well he thought it’d be funny to do it to you since it made him so irritated (he will not admit that and will tell you that Bepo made him do it or something like that)

- the hardest part for him was asking you for help because anytime he does you get all smirky and say: “ooooo you need my help??? 😏”

- “never mind I don’t.”

- “NO- IM SORRY ILL HELP!”

- so yeah he was a bit nervous about asking you- but he had to do it lmao

- “Y/n-ya, can you open this for me?”

- “Sure.”

- you literally opened it in seconds, you didn’t even struggle.

what the fuck?

- “Y/n. How did you open that?..”

- “It was loose, did you loosen it?”

- “…….I’m gonna go to bed now.”

- “it’s 2pm!”

- “I’m. Going. To. Bed.”

- went straight to his computer to look up

- “Is my s/o a demon?”

- “what is the strength level for opening glued shut pickle jar”

- “911 marine hq”

- “counseling hotline”

- “can glue expire?”

- “am I weak?”

- Zoro was still pretty mad that he couldn’t open the jar last time, so he’s added, “opening pickle jars for y/n, 20 reps, 2 sets, give pickles to Luffy.”

- his workout page looks like a Barbie notebook you cannot tell me otherwise

- everything is pink and neon green 💀

- anyway, mayyyyybe Luffy convinced him to do the same prank on you because Luffy kept laughing at him about it, poor moss head’s self esteem was a bit low now 😭

- So he grabbed a jar, glued the damn thing shut and went over to you (took a while because he could not find you)

- “hey y/n. Can you open this for me? I’m gonna go train.”

- “Sure.”

- he hid behind the corner, watching as you took the jar and paused, continuing to read your book before opening it with ease, putting it back on the table next to you

- man was flabbergasted.

- how the actual fuck did you do that?????

- “Zoro??? What do you want me to do with the jar?!” -you

- His plan to hide out behind the corner was ruined the moment Luffy came over and fucking said hello to him

- “Oh hey zoro!! Whatcha doin?”

- “SHUT UP!”

- “huh?”

- You turned around to see Zoro trying to shut up poor Luffy who literally wanted to just say hi 😭

- “Zoro what are you doing?? I opened the jar, is it for Sanji’s meal?”

- “….Yeah just- give it to him.”

- he looked sad, it was painful for your heart

- imagine getting stabbed, then reading something sad, listening to sad music, and then realizing. You’re sad.

- that is what this felt like

- you tried your best to comfort him (even though you didn’t know why he was sad) so you watched him train and you sat on his back while he did pushups. Seemed to make the poor guy feel better, but you still didn’t know why he was so sad in the first place :’)

a/n - poor zoro

[pinkponyclubbb3]

Revenge.

summary: y/n and chris despise each other. After he does something unforgivable Y/n decides to get revenge by sleeping with his brother.

Warnings: Intense Smut,cursing,alcohol, female masturbation, getting caught in the act,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mix of alcohol and sweat fills my nostrils, as I get through the crowd. I scan the room, looking for Nick or Matt, but there is no sign of them. I feel myself being groped and immediately turn around. When I made eye contact with the blue-eyed man who had just touched me, we both had a look of disgust. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yell at Chris. “Trying to stop myself from throwing up, I thought you were someone else.” I roll my eyes and smack his red solo cup so whatever he was drinking spills on his shirt. “Fuck you.” I flip him off as I turn around to continue my search for one of his brothers. He grabs my wrists and faces me towards him. “Watch your tone with me, or I’ll have to put that mouth to good use,” he growls as he tightens his grip on my wrists. Neither of us breaks eye contact. We are so close that if anyone looked at us, they would think we were about to kiss. I try to get any words out of my mouth but i’m so taken back.

“Y/n! I was looking for you! Chris, let her go, Jesus.” I turn around and see Matt. Whatever was going on with Chris a few seconds ago is over with. I greet them feeling a bit of relief because I had no response to Chris. We meet nick outside who’s playing tag with our other drunk friends. “Are you 5?” Matt asks Nick. “You’re right. Tag!” Nick hits Matt’s shoulder and starts running but trips over his own foot and falls. I immediately start dying laughing falling to the ground too. “Fuck I had too much to drink.” Tears are streaming down all of our faces because of how hard we’re laughing. “Nick let me get tipsy and i’ll play tag with you!”

Hours later

I’m alone in the kitchen, looking for another shot to take. If I remember this night, tomorrow, I didn’t do tonight right. I throw the shot back and immediately feel it burn my throat. If I were sober right now, it would probably taste worse. I see a small crowd start to form around a boy and everyone starts laughing and reaching for the phone. I was going to ignore it until I saw people scanning the room and eyes land on me.

My heart drops to the floor. I see a few people move out of the way to find their friends and see Chris holding a phone. Without thinking, I run up to Chris and take his phone. My heart shatters as I look at an old video of me masturbating that I sent to an old ex-boyfriend. I feel my eyes watering, and I’m frozen. I can’t move; I can’t look away. A look of sadness, anger, and humiliation washes over my face. I slam his phone on the ground until it’s in a million pieces. I hear him yelling at me but i’m too focused on getting out of there. I run upstairs and find an empty bedroom. I slam the door and immediately break down.

The feeling of embarrassment won’t go away. I pace around the room, thinking of ways to get back at him. This was a new level of low. My prayers were answered when I saw Matt walk into the room. An idea pops into my mind. Not caring about the consequences, I slowly start going up to Matt and subtly start trying to make a move. “Hey, hey, slow down. You’re drunk. Are you okay?” I see the concern in his eyes, but I’m too focused on getting back at Chris to care. “I’m fine, Matt. You know, a sick part of me liked being seen like that in front of so many people.” I whisper in his ear. Taken back I can feel the tension in the room change. “You sure you’re alright, baby?” The truth is, I’m not, but getting back at Chris is more important to me right now. I don’t reply; I smash my lips against his. He hesitates for a split second but immediately puts his hands on my hair and pushes me against the wall. 

“Matt I need you to touch me please.” I beg him. “Say it again.” He tells me. I can feel the wetness between my thighs as I clench my thighs together. “Please touch me.” He doesn’t hesitate to lift up my skirt and trace his fingers on my clothed pussy. “So wet already?” I hum in response. I feel him pull my underwear to the side and his fingers explore inside me. He touches my clit for a split second and I shut my eyes tightly. He continues to tease me, his fingers dancing around my clit but never giving it the attention I crave. "You're always so desperate, aren't you?" He says with a smirk, his fingers still inside me. "Always begging for something."

My eyes roll back as I feel him enter his fingers in my needy cunt. This started off as a revenge thing but if I knew he felt this good I would’ve done this a while ago. He starts moving faster. My head is laying on his shoulders as I moan profanities. “Fuck Matt.” I flinch by the loss of contact when he removes his fingers. As I was about to protest Matt grins as he slowly pulls his fingers out from under my skirt, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.

"You taste so good, you know that? I bet you'd taste even better if I used my mouth instead." He says, his eyes locked onto mine. He takes me to his bed and gets on his knees. He pulls my underwear to the side and while keeping eye contact he puts his mouth on my clit and starts eating me out. “Oh fuck-“

Matt devours my pussy, his tongue swirling around my clit and dipping inside my dripping wet folds. He sucks on my clit hard, making me cry out in pleasure. “Fuck Matt, I’m close. Oh my god!” His free hand reaches up to grab your thigh, spreading your legs further apart as he eats me out relentlessly. I grab his hair as I feel my orgasm hit. My vision goes blurry, and I see stars.

He wipes his mouth and starts to unbuckle his belt. “Hands.” is all he says. I give him my hands and he turns me around ties his belt around my wrists. “Alright baby is it okay if I take these off?” He tugs on my v-neck shirt exposing more cleavage. I nod my head yes. He doesn’t hesitate to take my shirt and lace bra off. With my hands bound behind my back he bends me over the bed. He spreads my legs and uses his middle finger to graze my slit. “Stop teasing.” I hear him chuckle behind me. I hear his jeans fall to the floor. I feel him positioning himself. Without hesitation he thrust inside of me making me take all him. I scream in pleasure. “Matt!” My eyes are rolled back.

He grips my hair and shoves my face into a pillow. “Fuck you feels so good wrapped around my cock.” He slaps my ass as hard as he can. A mix of pain a pleasure hit me all at once. I completely forgot about Chris all I wanted to do was focus on all the pleasure Matt was giving me. Matt pulls out of me and sits down. “Come here.” he calls me over with two fingers. I see him sitting on a chair so I go over to him and straddle his lap.

He positions himself inside me and I take all of him. He rolls his eyes back. “Oh my god. You take me so well baby.” As we continue the door starts opening but Matt is too deep into pleasure to realize. I look up and make eye contact with the man who basically is the reason i’m doing this.

Chris fucking Sturniolo.

Neither of us say anything. I see the anger in his eyes, and it’s just turning me on more. I keep eye contact with him as I ride his brother. I throw my head back, feeling Matt hit my G-spot over and over again. “Fuck Matt, I’m so fucking close.” I go back to look at Chris, who is just standing in the doorway. If looks could kill, I would’ve been dead the second he opened the door. “Hold it.” The feeling in my stomach becomes more intense. “Fuck I can’t, Matt.” I cry out. “Beg me to let you come all over my cock,y/n.” I smirk at Chris keeping eye contact with him. “Please let me come Matt i’ll be so good for you.” I look back down at Matt and can see in his face his orgasm is approaching too. “Cum for me y/n.”

Matt throws his head back as the pleasure takes over his body. I look back up at Chris refusing to break eye contact as I cum and scream his brothers name. My mouth is open and I keep bouncing on his lap riding out my orgasm. Chris doesn’t say a word and just leaves.

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A/N: thank u for reading lmk if u want more stories or leave me some suggestions

[lissdiary]

hii❤️ hope ur doing well can u do headcanons of bakugo,deku (seperated) with an s/o who is not in u.a and is petite? By that shes short and weak and they prob met in an online game or sm

katsuki bakugo —

you both met through an online game, he friended you after you kept beating him. he would mute himself to yell but was secretly impressed with the way you managed to beat him.

afterschool, you both played together for hours. you would talk to him about everything in your life and he would listen to you every single time. katsuki fell in love with your voice, and the way you talked to him.

when you both finally decided to meet up, he didn’t realize how short you were. occasionally teasing you about it, making you slap his arm.

“ha, you can’t even reach it?” he loved your height, it made him feel good when you wanted him to get something for you that you couldn’t reach.

he won’t admit it but your size makes him lose his mind. the way he so easily towers over you, sometimes picking you up and placing you on his lap as you both play video games together when he invites you to come over.

katsuki definitely pauses his game to text you back, he doesn’t care if he loses the game. all that matters to him is you, if he sees that you’re online he’ll leave the party he was in with his friends and immediately join yours.

— paused your game just to text me? aw you’re cute.

— tch, you made me lose.

katsuki having a weak gf never crossed his mind, he always imagined himself with another pro hero one that matched his energy or was just strong as him. when you came into his life, that changed for him. he imagined his future with you, it felt more secure than a future with a pro hero.

he would never have to worry about your safety when fighting villains. he felt secure, coming straight home to you instead of having different patrol times where you’d never see each other.

izuku midoriya —

izuku sent you a friend request when he noticed that you both had the same all might icon, you dmed him shortly after you accepted.

— woah, we’re matching!

he chuckled at your message, who knew this would’ve led to the both of you spending hours together playing games and talking about your favorite all might moments.

when you both first met irl, izuku’s palms were sweatinggg. he was so nervous to meet you, even more when he realized how short n’ petite you were. he thought you were adorable, the way you looked up at him made him so crazy. he couldn’t process his words correctly around you.

after a while, izuku fell in love with your voice. the way you would politely talk to him in game made him go silent. often times you were worried that he left or you were talking his ears off. you messaged him when it was too quiet,

— sorry, am i talking to much?..

— no no! it’s just, your voice is so soothing.

izuku admired everything about you, he didn’t care how “weak” you considered yourself to be. when you told him about your quirk and how weak you thought it was, he started analyzing your quirk, admiring it. this was when you realize you had fallen for him, he was the first guy who didn’t make you feel weaker than you already were.

he always made sure to reassure you, making sure you wouldn’t look down on your quirk. he makes sure to hold your hand in large crowds, just in case he loses you.

because of your quirk, you weren’t able to perform the attacks and moves he did so occasionally you would ask him to show you. obviously you couldn’t help him train, but you were there to motivate him. he’ll happily show you his journal, telling you all about his classmates’ cool quirks and mumbling to himself about them.

izuku loves coming home to you, watching the news about his victory. you’re his biggest supporter and inspiration, everything he does is for you.

tysm for requesting, this was really cute!! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

sorry if i’m lagging on the reqs, my mind is everywhere rn