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darling-heffron · 3 hours ago

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I hope you like our little moodboards we are planning to do one for each chapter! I'm not the creative so you can tell when it's my shitty handiwork LMAO Sol come save me. She is the artist so... IDK why I was allowed to do moodboards. Anyway enough of my rambling, here is chapter five!!

taglist: @malarkgirlypop, @mellow-human, @next-autopsy

Chapter Five: Muddied hands

Sam laid on her belly, the map spread out before her as she used a pencil to trace her path. She needed to get from her position in Amherst to Pittsfield, which was the next closest city.

The blonde had enough supplies to last her for the three day journey, she could do it in two if she wanted but she didn’t want to risk moving in the dark again. Her plan was simple: move during the day and before the sun set she would have her camp set up.

She set out the next morning bright and early, she wanted to try and get all the way to Idaho as quickly as she could without dying along the way. But it was a massive journey, one that needed to be taken city by city.

She knew if she set out the exact route all the way to the safe haven it might not go her way. There were a million factors that could change the route drastically, so she didn’t want to plan that far ahead. Sam knew she would have to be smart about this, travelling too far away from cities could mean she wound up with no supplies.

Not that she really wanted too but she would have to hop from city to city to make it through alive.

The girl made it out of the area, the only people she had seen in her travels had been the family she met yesterday. Other than that the town appeared quiet, she didn’t want to find out why, so she left quickly.

The days were long, walking the path by herself. Sam was able to avoid most of the hoards, she could sneak past without them noticing. If she couldn’t, she found that they were very reactive to sound. Sam could throw an object in the opposite direction to her and it would trigger all of them.

Once one moved, the others followed.

Sometimes the rabid’s would be by themselves, they looked lost without the rest of the swarm, they would stagger around with no destination in sight. The stragglers would often look worse than the swarms, seemingly more decomposed and skinny. The rabid’s that stuck together looked well fed and plump, decomposing more slowly than the isolated ones.

Sam sat criss-cross striking the steel across the flint to create a spark that would light the tinder in the campfire she had set up. It was unlikely anyone would find her in the dense bush, so she felt more confident in lighting it. Sam hadn’t been using fires when she was closer to towns, she was unsure who or what it would attract. She didn’t need unwanted company, the blonde was a good fighter but she didn’t think she would stand much of a chance if a hoard or group stumbled upon her.

“Ah ha!” She grinned seeing the spark alight the dry wood shavings she had tirelessly carved earlier in the afternoon. Sam blew on the fire to keep it going, cupping it in her hands to stop the wind from putting out her hard work.

Once the flame took off she placed it in the middle of her log pile, watching the orange tongue lick at the new fuel she had given it. Sam sat close just watching the fire, enjoying the warmth it gave off, it was somewhat comforting to watch. Listening to the crackling and popping of the wood as the flame consumed it slowly.

Sam had always wanted to go camping, sit around a campfire and roast marshmallows and sing silly little songs with her family.

Not that that would even happen, her younger self was much more optimistic than the bitter girl she had become. The young girl had hope, foolishly so, but it was still hope. Still a sliver of happiness that she could imagine but never grasp.

Sam’s love of the fire soon grew to disdain, something she always dreamed of, only now she was alone and it wasn’t for fun; to roast marshmallows or sing songs around, it was for survival. Sam sighed moving further back into her tent, bringing her knees into her chest as the fire danced, almost taunting her in a way.

The blonde focussed her attention on her pack, rustling around in the bag to find what she was looking for. Sam’s hand wrapped around the cold can, pulling it to the surface so she could examine it closer. It was a can of fruit, she had wanted to try and catch something for her dinner but exhaustion pulled at her heavy eyelids. All she wanted was to fill her stomach and try to sleep.

Sam had never been a great sleeper, any small noise could easily pull her from her slumber. Samantha blamed her father for this trait, he never slept, she had never seen him rest.

When he was home he marched around the house on the phone, or sorted paperwork. He was up at all times during the night. Sam liked to watch him, sneaking downstairs after hearing the front door unlock and open, she knew it was him, he always came home late after everyone else had left or had gone to bed.

But Sam’s ears perked at that familiar sound of his heavy boots falling on the tile floor. She would sneak down and hide in the shadows, he would never notice her, hell he often forgot she existed.

Sam remembered one time he was home during the day and had run into her in the halls, he looked at her questioning her presence in his home, and then she saw it, he remembered who she was.

She would never forget the feeling in her chest, as his eyes grew hard and stance became taller, more assertive. Her father’s body reacted to her as if she was a stray dog on the street, he stuck up his nose and pretended he didn’t see her, moving on with his day.

But that young girl still held hope, still held onto the ‘maybe’s’ and ‘what if’s’. She didn’t hate her father, even after he stepped around her without an exchange of words or even the courtesy to look at her. But the Sam now, the older, more resentful, this one hated him with every fibre of her being.

Samantha curled into her sleeping bag, her trusty knife clutched to her chest, she let sleep tug her down into darkness, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to sleep peacefully tonight, but she didn’t hold hope.

To no one's surprise the blonde didn’t sleep well, noises and rustling nearby didn’t let her relax all night. She would drift off to then wake in a jolt to a noise in the distance. Sam’s mind always raced, thinking of all the things it could potentially be, she was rational, but now with the rabid’s on the loose what was rational?

Sam packed her gear, heading out on the road again. She stomped out the embers that still smoked under the early morning sun. She made her way through the trees, which was easier said than done.

These parts of the woods had never been trailed before, there was no clear path she was following, just the one of least resistance.

Sam swung her axe bringing down the dead branches and debris that blocked her way, she hummed a tune as she worked, there was nothing else to do to keep her entertained. She always had to be on lookout which drained her, every sense she had was running on overdrive.

A noise caught her attention, groaning in the distance. Sam crouched down low, positioning herself behind the trees so that she couldn’t be seen. Her ears perked like a dog, listening closely for any sign of movement. It was odd that most of the time she heard things like this she hoped it was a rabid.

Something about the people that lurked around didn’t seem too inviting.

Sam found it easier to kill the lonesome rabid’s, but the thought of finding another human that had cruel intentions sent shivers up her spine. It wasn’t the thought of killing her fellow peer that made her so uncomfortable, that part she was capable and ready to do, it was the interaction.

Trying to figure out the intentions of the person before deciding whether or not they should live or die.

Sam wasn’t surprised at what the family had told her when she had been held up in the rampaged supermarket. Sam had been in war, she had seen how people followed rules so eagerly until all hell broke loose.

People’s morals seem to all but disappear when their world turns to chaos.

Things that would seem horrific and vile when there was regulation and control; go out the window when it goes. Humans need rules and guidelines to follow, they need order to be set or it all goes to waste.

But in this new era of mankind, one where fellow humans are now nothing but mindless animals, order seems to be far from the world they used to know.

Sam stayed out of sight watching the woods closely, her eyes forever scanning the tree line.

She watched as a small hoard stumbled into view, they groaned together following the leader. They were intriguing to watch despite their gruesome and violent nature. Sam often thought it was so strange that they used to be people, like her. They had lives, jobs, and families.

But now they wandered aimlessly, their only goal was to fill their bellies.

It was sad to imagine how many people now were these awful creatures, everything they ever lived for so easily ripped away from them.

Sam was snapped out of her deep thinking by the sound of feet hitting the ground in clumsy fashion. She refocused her attention to the small group only to find they were coming straight for her.

“Ah, shit.” Sam cursed under her breath. She hadn’t needed to fight any of the rabid’s since her first meeting with the driver. But even then she never fought him, just escaped.

However that situation was different, at that time she had no idea what she was dealing with or what was happening.

Sam sprung from her hiding spot, axe ready in her hand.

“Come get me you motherfuckers!” She yelled loudly so they could find her easily.

The group barreled towards her, their noises mixing in with each other as they rushed for the blonde.

Sam swung her axe over her head bringing it down with such force that the first rabid’s skull split in half, but in its momentum the body kept moving towards her. She smashed the butt of her axe into its side, flinging it over and out of the way.

The next one chomped for her, his gnashing teeth lashing out at her flesh. Using the handle of her weapon she shoved him away, sending him backwards into the rest of the pack. They tumbled to the ground like pins, but that didn’t mean the fight was over.

The gnawing man leapt to his feet again in no time, making another attempt to get his fill from the angry woman.

Little did he know she was begging for a fight, Sam was ready to cave some heads in.

And that she did.

Sam sliced through the air with speed, the rabid stopping in its place before crumpling to the ground. The woman swung so hard she had cleanly decapitated the biter.

The last two came together at her as a pair, but they were nothing more than mindless animals, they both aimed for her face. Their gangly decomposing limbs reached for her, clawing and grabbing at the air. The pair together were strong, with both of their weight pushing Sam backwards.

She used the length of her axe to hold them back, wielding it as a barrier between them. The rabids lunged forward knocking Sam off her feet. She yelped in surprise as the pair toppled onto her. Sam held fast keeping them at arm's length, she grunted, straining to keep them at bay.

But she thought fast, tucking her knees up against her chest; she kicked out, rocking her hips upwards. Sam used the force to push the rabids over her head, they toppled to the ground behind her as she rolled backwards.

It was a quick movement so fast she was already on her knees before the rabids could even sit up. She swivelled to face them as they sprung up arms outstretched for her, her hands found the two knives that were sheathed at her belt.

Sam gripped the hilt of the daggers in a fast motion she drove the weapons upwards into the underside of their chins.

There was little resistance to the sharp daggers as they plunged into the soft decomposing flesh of the biters, their jaws turned slack as the blade of the knives pierced into their skulls. Sam withdrew the weapons from the two rabids, they slumped back lifeless.

Sam nudged the two rabids with her foot, but they didn’t move. Sam had seen enough zombie media to know that if you wanted to kill them for good, it needed to be through the head.

She cleaned her knives from the black blood that covered the blades on the back of the fallen biter. Before she picked up her pack, that had slipped from her shoulders during the attack, and swung it back on her shoulders.

************

Finally Sam had made it to Pittsfeild. The town now empty and desolate, had an eerie sense to it. She made her way into the heart of the town, making sure she kept low and out of sight at all times.

The blonde scavenged in and out of the abandoned stores. As she had made her journey she noted the supplies were now few and far between. Unlike with the first store she had gone into that still had resources in it, now the shops had been picked bare.

Sighing, she threw what she could into her backpack. It was early afternoon and thought it best to make her way as far as she could away from the town and toward Albany.

Swinging her bag back onto her back after securing the buckles, she made her way out of the store.

Sam had only made it a couple blocks before a squeak came from under her boot. She lifted her foot, revealing a dirty teddy-bear lying on the ground. Sam tilted her head, it looked familiar, but she didn’t know from where.

Her brows drew together as she studied the small stuffed bear that looked back up at her. Sam couldn’t put her finger on why the bear looked so sad, the smile that was stitched into the mouth wasn't bright and cheerful it looked so melancholy; like it was forced.

Sam placed her foot on the ground as she bent down to pick the bear up. It was only small, easily fitting into her hand.

The bear was dirty covered in muck from the ground, blood stains on his feet and tummy, but under all the grime it seemed well loved. The nose had been worn down, like the owner often touched it.

The ears were the same.

The fur on the bear looked shorter there than on other places on the bear. The teddy's hands also had the same pattern as the ears, the owner must’ve held his hands a lot.

Then Sam’s heart dropped, the memory coming back to her in a rush.

The picture of the young girl holding up her little bear to wave goodbye before she was ushered out of the supermarket by her mother.

Sam lifted her head, eyes scanning the area. The small voice in her head begging for the girl to have just dropped it by accident, it fell out of her bag without her noticing.

The voice didn’t last very long, as Sam bit her lip. Her eyes found a group of people lying on the floor, two big, one small. She approached slowly, hoping and praying it wasn’t who she thought it was.

But she was right, she stood over the small girl, hand still interlocked with her father’s. The girl’s mother was frozen in time, reaching out for her daughter. Fingers still spread wide so close but so far from her little girl that only lay inches away face down in the dirt. Sam closed her eyes, willing the searing vision of the family to leave her brain, it wasn’t something she wished to carry.

The blonde bent down tucking the small bear under the child’s arm, she didn’t think it was right to rip him away from his family as well. But even then it didn’t feel right, leaving the family face down in the street.

She cursed under her breath, she needed to leave but her conscious wouldn’t let her move until she had laid them all to rest. It was only right, the family seemed to have been taken from the world in such violence, they needed to be in peace.

Sam moved the mother first, dragging her body off the street and into the edge of the woods that they were so close too.

The woman wondered if that’s where they were going for safety, they were almost there, another couple of steps and then could’ve been in the forest. Sam laid her down, facing her up to the sky, she noted the bullet wound in her chest and the crimson that stained her grey sweatshirt.

Next she moved the little girl, she was easier. Being only so young Sam could easily pick her up and move her. So she did, Sam cradled the young child in her arms and walked her to her mother who waited for her. She walked slower than normal, letting the young girl admire the sky one last time, the way the blue contrasted against the green of the trees that stood so tall.

Her teddy bear still tucked under her arm she lay next to her mother, Sam placed their hands so they were touching. Sam then moved the father, laying him on the other side of his daughter, she moved their hands so that they were laying together as well.

Sam dug quickly. She felt bad but she didn’t have time to dig them a proper grave, but it didn’t feel right leaving them exposed to the elements. They need their privacy, so that they could truly rest.

The blonde moved them into the grave she had dug, keeping the same position she had them in as when they were laid on the grass. Sam took a moment of silence before covering the bodies in the earth. She patted the ground, smoothing it over. But still it felt empty.

Sam knew she was wasting time, but she couldn’t leave them here in an unmarked grave, nothing to show who they were.

She turned in a circle, eyes trailing her surroundings. Her eyes landed on wild daisies that sprung from the ground. Sam grabbed a handful to bring it back over the earth that held the family. Sam had never had an eye for decorating, her room often laid bare, but she placed the flowers around the edges of the grave. The rest of the flowers she had scattered in the middle.

It wasn’t beautiful but at least now it wasn’t empty.

Sam never cried much, as a child she was scolded for such things, so she learnt to hold it back. But in that moment she couldn’t help the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

The family shared so much love, their little girl had so much potential.

But now they’re gone. Buried in the earth.

Sam didn’t know their names, ages, or their life.

This life was cruel, cruller than most.

Then the thoughts trickled in, Sam cursed her mind for falling into the ‘what if’s’ again. It was a trait she trained so tirelessly to remove from her brain, but it always found a way to sneak back in.

What if she had agreed to come along with them, would she have been able to save them? Or would she have met the same fate.

It felt cruel to leave but she was wasting daylight, she huffed as she looked at the fresh grave before she headed into the forest herself.

They almost made it. The vile voice in her brain taunted. Could’ve been saved if you weren’t so heartless.

Sam groaned, shaking her head to rid the thoughts that plagued her mind. It was in the past, she had made her bed and now she would have to lie in it.

Unfortunately the family haunted her with every step she went deeper into the forest. The tightness in her chest suffocated the poor girl as she fought with her own emotions. Like she had said before, this world was cruel, the only way to survive was to be even more ruthless and spiteful than the evil creatures that lurked in the shadows.

However it wasn’t those creatures that had ended that family’s life, it was other people. People like Sam, merciless and uncaring.

A/N:

Ok so our Sam has a heart but don't tell her that or she'll beat you up. I'm so excited to be posting these I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! I hope you all are loving Sam like I do, she may be a tough cookie but I still want to give her a big hug, but she would most likely punch me in the face LMAO.

Esra ✨

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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 days ago

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Delicate (Jake's Version)

10 - System Failure, Calling Mission Control

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: Major Character Death, description of some funeral proceedings, heavy alcohol consumption, and a nice little surprise at the end to make up for it all.

A/N: It was inevitable.

Tags: @mrsevans90

Playlist

Ice had died at some point during the night. Peacefully, in his sleep, next to his loving wife. Sarah realized almost immediately, waking up just minutes after her husband took his last breath. She got Sam up first and then Mark and Alexandra. They stood around the bed for a few moments, each saying their goodbyes as they felt necessary. Sarah called the funeral home and they came and took his body early. Sarah was going to try to get the funeral to be held later that day, after every necessary person was notified. Sarah wanted it done and over with, knowing Ice wanted something quick. He'd set his family up well for the rest of their lives. He made sure they were taken care of. Once the funeral director left their home, Sam texted Jake.

Sam: Jake

Jake: mornin beautiful...was gonna shoot you a text but figured you were sleeping and I was running late, missed our walk this morning

Sam: can you come to my house?

Jake: was just getting into flight suit, is everything okay?

Sam: no...please I need you now

Jake: fuck. Omw

Without a thought, Jake shed his flight suit, which had been half on, putting his jeans back on. He forgot his belt and Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob all yelled after him as he darted out the door. He even left his locker open.

“The fuck?” Rooster asked, and everyone glanced around confused before going back to their business.

Jake sped to Sam's house. He passed a black hearse, flanked by two military escorts on the way and his stomach dropped. When he pulled in the driveway it was silent, and he could only hear the gentle rustle of the morning breeze through the palm trees out front. The air felt empty, and too cool for the end of the summer. He recognized Admiral Beau Simpson standing with Sarah. The color drained from Jake's face as he took a deep and shaky breath, heading up the walkway. Sarah thanked Jake for coming and he smiled and nodded at her. Beau saluted him and Jake did so back as he continued to where he was most needed.

Sam met him at the door and she nearly collapsed into his arm, sobs wracking her body. He guided her into the house and onto the couch. He held her tight and let her cry for as long as she needed to. Jake could hear someone coming up the walkway and into the house. He glanced around and noticed Sam’s brother and sister were nowhere to be found, no doubt off somewhere quiet trying to process what had happened to their father in their own ways. Sarah had come back into the house and Beau had followed, which Jake then realized that he had arrived just after Beau and he was clearly trying to help Sarah get some things in order.

“How quickly do you want this to happen?” Beau asked, eyes glassing over to Jake. He was still holding Sam tight, his fingers threaded through her hair and the other hand rubbing circles on her back. When she was able to stop crying, she laid silently in Jake's arms. He had shed tears but none for her to see. He was trying his hardest to be strong for her.

“I just want everything over with. Tom wanted it all done quick too. Whatever you can make happen today, I’d be grateful for.” Sarah said and Jake felt Sam sigh deeply. He wasn’t sure if she could hear her mother, but if she could, it probably hurt that her mother seemed unfazed on the outside, but Jake was sure she was in agony on the inside. She was trying to be strong for her children just like Jake was being for his girlfriend.

“I’ll do my best. He was our Commander. We’re all going to miss him deeply, Sarah. And you let me know if there’s anything else you need. We’re here for you whatever you and your family needs. You’re our family too.” Beau explained and Jake watched as Beau rubbed his hands up and down her arms comfortingly. He kissed her on the cheek and she pulled him into a tight embrace before they said their goodbyes.

Not too long after. Maverick and the rest of the pilots were informed and they all headed home to get their dress uniforms. Jake had stopped quickly at his place and then went back to Sam's immediately. He elected to drive her and Maverick came and picked Sarah, Mark and Alex up. It wasn't until the funeral that Jake’s co-pilots saw him.

Jake looked handsome in dress blues and on his arm was Sam. What a way for the rest of them to find out. Nat had known and expressed her disgust initially, but she was happy for Sam regardless. Bob knew, and so did Coyote. Everyone else had their suspicions but it was confirmed for them here and now.

With Iceman’s family gathered, and Jake by his daughter's side, his friends and co-pilots couldn't believe it. They saw then, the side of Jake that he vowed he'd never let them see. They saw tears stinging his eyes as he glanced down at his girlfriend. At Iceman's daughter. They saw affection and a comforting demeanor as Sam held onto him tight, as if Jake was the only thing that could keep her tethered to the spot, as the priest said his last words about Ice. About him being a loving and devoted husband and father. About him leaving behind a legacy. And when Sam broke down again, Jake was right there to catch her, holding her steady in his arms. His co-pilots were astounded by the amount of care and compassion that Hangman showed. That Jake showed.

Jake's lips touched her forehead and the top of her hair. One of his hands was cupped around the back of her neck, the other around her waist, holding her as her body shook. His green eyes studied the line of his fellow aviators, as Maverick punched wings into Ice’s casket. As they fired the rifles, Jake whispered something to Sam, and only Rooster was able to hear what he said, being the closest in proximity to them.

“I've got you. It'll be okay. Not now...but it'll be okay soon.” Jake’s voice was low and soft, comforting and reassuring in the same breath as the jets flew overhead. Rooster had never seen Hangman be so caring. And now he knew there was something more going on with them. He knew it was way more than a fling for Jake. Hangman actually had feelings. Rooster stood in stunned silence next to them.

As the funeral proceedings ended, many people came up and expressed their condolences to Sarah and Ice's children. Maverick hugged her and then when he hugged Sam, he whispered something to her.

“Ice told me to look after you too. I promise I'll do my best.” He said to Sam and then he shook Jake's hand and said, “I know you'll continue to make Ice proud.”

Jake nodded and he glanced down at Sam with a small smile. As everyone began to dissipate, Nat headed over to Sam. She gave her a huge hug.

“I'm so sorry, Sam. He's not in pain anymore.” She said softly and that made Sam's tears well up again and she swallowed hard as her and Nat embraced, tighter than the last. Jake stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Sam to come back to his arms. Bradley, Bob, Javy, and Reuben made their way over, saying sorry to Sarah first and then Sam.

“So...Hangman, huh?” Bradley said, a little disapproving, as he gave Sam a hug. She nodded and shot a small smile toward Jake, who was talking with Javy. Nat still had an arm around Sam's shoulders.

“I couldn't believe it either but...he's actually nice when you get to know him. Sam is doing God's work out here, taming Hangman's ego.” Nat said, smiling at Sam. She wasn't just saying it because of the situation either. Jake had a lot to make up for with some of his fellow pilots, but when Sam had asked Nat to come to dinner with them the other night, she saw what Sam liked about him so much. Nat saw the side of Jake that he didn't show to anyone because he thought they'd think he was weak. He'd thought they would think he was soft. So that side of Jake, the real Jake down to his core, was reserved only for very special people and very special occasions. And Sam was very special to him.

“Well, Sammy, I don’t like it, but I’ll be respectful, because I can see how much he means to you. And I can tell he will take really good care of you.” Bradley maintained, glancing at Hangman, at Jake, then his eyes focused back on Sam, as Jake slid in beside her again.

The ring was still in his pocket. He'd been carrying it around for a few days, trying to figure out when the best time was to propose. He just felt horrible that he was going to ask her to marry him at such a low point in her life. She’d just lost her father. Why did he think this was a good time?

Because he said he would take away all her pain, and asking her to be his forever seemed like the most logical way to do that right now. Maybe his reasoning was shit, but nonetheless, he knew he needed to do this sooner rather than later. He wasn’t afraid of losing her but he was afraid that she might decide to run away to somewhere that he couldn’t go. And with the mission only a week away, he wanted to make sure that when he came back, which was his main goal, to come back, that he had her here and that she was promised to him, and only him.

Everyone was going out for drinks that night at the Hard Deck to celebrate Iceman’s life and legacy. Jake felt like if he could get Sam away from everyone, onto the beach, then perhaps they could have a quiet moment and he could ask. That would even have to be timed right though, as he knew Sam was probably hoping, or even planning to get good and drunk tonight.

🛩🛩🛩

Maverick had everyone's attention at the Hard Deck, to make a toast in honor of Iceman. He'd gotten Sarah to come out for a round. Everyone was there. All of Jake’s detachment, even Cyclone and Warlock were comfortably drinking and chatting with everyone. People had spilled out onto the sidewalk, the parking lot, and the patio.

Jake paid for a round for his co-pilots, Javy paid for a round, Maverick, and Bradley too. The more drunk Bradley got, the looser his lips became and Nat tried to keep him away from Sam, but she had been trying to flirt with Bob too. She really liked Bob. Nat and Sam were a bit like in that they usually went for asshole guys. Bob had shown Nat that he was safe, and respectful, and she kind of wanted a change of pace. She knew she shouldn’t fall for her WSO, but she really couldn’t help it. Bob was too tempting.

While she and Bob were discussing some inside joke between them, as a pilot and her WSO should have, she’d let Bradley out of her sights and he’d made his way over to Sam and leaned against the wall next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and while Sam was getting drunk, she wasn’t as sloshed as Bradley.

“Hey, sweets, I wish you’d given me even half the shot you’re giving old Jakey. Think about that night we had all the fuckin’ time. I tell everyone that you were the best piece of ass I ever had.” He pointed at Jake, who couldn’t hear what Bradley said over the din of the bar, but he bristled seeing Bradley’s arm around his girl. Sam shrugged his arm off her shoulders and patted him on the chest.

“Oh Roo, this is exactly why I never gave you a second chance. You have no respect for me and it gets even worse when you’re drunk.” Sam motioned between them and she headed over to Jake.

“Everything okay there?” He whisper-yelled in her ear and she nodded.

“He’s just jealous, Jake. Don’t need that shit right now.” She affirmed and Jake downed the rest of his beer and put it down on the edge of the pool table. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, shooting an annoyed look at Bradley, who scoffed and headed the opposite way.

Jake knew Sam was feeling pretty good after her fourth round so he decided to take her beer, and gave it to Nat to hold onto. “Hey, can we go somewhere quieter, babygirl? I wanna talk to ya about something.” He insisted, grinning wide, as his hand met the back of her neck. She curled her fingers in his dress shirt which had been untucked for some time now and allowed him to coax her out onto the patio, unsteady on her feet and giggly. She pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips and he smirked, as he was feeling his liquor a bit too. Javy was out there, making out with some girl he'd just met. Jake nodded at him and Javy just grinned. Jake led Sam down onto the sand and she immediately took her shoes off and threw them in different directions. Jake would find them later, when he was a little more sober and a little less horny.

“Jake Seresin! I think I love you!” She yelled to the night sky and twirled, falling into him. He laughed and caught her easily and kissed her. And there it was, the words he had been looking for. The words he’d wanted her to say so fucking bad, but she hadn’t yet. He knew even though she was a bit more than buzzed, she meant it. His smile grew wider as his grasp tightened around her. He didn’t want to let go, but he had to stop stalling.

“Hey, can you just stand there for a second? I wanna look at cha, beautiful girl.” He said, backing away a couple steps, putting his hands up like he was trying to get the perfect camera frame. She laughed and swished the skirt of her dress back and forth while looking expectantly at Jake. He reached in his pocket and pulled the box out. He glanced over at the patio, which they were not far from and saw that several other of their friends had joined Javy and his girl and were leaning over the railing. Nat, Bob, and Rueben were all up there looking out over the ocean with beers in their hands. If there was ever a better time...

“Samantha Kazansky!” He yelled, hands in the air, getting her full attention. She was wobbly but coherent enough that she knew he was about to ask something serious. She had butterflies in her stomach as he got down on one knee and opened the small box in his hand. “I know the timing is the fuckin' worst, but I can't go another day without being with you. Will you marry me?”

Sam jumped up and down and pulled Jake from his knee. He kept a tight grip on the ring and stopped her for a moment, to put the ring on her finger. She gazed down at it, then at him. “Wow Jake, you got me a fucking planet. You must love me or something.” She hooted and jumped into his arms and their lips crashed together. He twirled her around and they heard cheers from the patio. He couldn’t help the goofy smile across his lips as he held her close, his mouth meeting her neck.

“Hey guys! I fucking love Jake Seresin! And I'm gonna marry him!” Sam yelled and their friends all laughed. So did Jake. He had his answer even though she never actually said ‘yes’ to him. He loved her too and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her.

#jake seresin x oc #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #glen powell

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oceantornadoo · 7 days ago

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when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tried to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus’ a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nodded stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slid into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod 141 #simon riley x you #tornadothoughts #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #simon riley imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x gn reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n

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iamthedukeofurl · 1 year ago

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I feel like the Hbomberguy plagiarism video has a lot of really good lessons about building an argument. Like, the thesis of the video isn't just "Plagiarism is rife on Youtube", although that point was certainly well made, it was specifically about James Somerton, who isn't mentioned until about halfway through the video. Before then, Hbomb goes through several creators who are already widely discredited as plagiarists, and in each section he introduces concepts that are later incorporated into the final takedown of Somerton, but each section also stands on it's own. Like, he starts with Filip, the game reviewer, which he uses to introduce the format of how he will discuss and expose plagiarists. Specifically, the graphic of displaying the source material while the plagiarist's voice plays, and marking up said source material every time the plagiarist changes some wording slightly. This is the method that Hbomb uses across the entire video. With Illuminaughtii, Hbomb introduces a few major concepts 1) The idea of Insufficient citation. Illuminaughtii "Cites" her sources by putting a plaintext pastebin link in her video descriptions with no indication of how each source was used. Technically, her source is CITED, but not in any relevant or useful way. She has a big list of stuff she read, and a random youtube link in there happens to be the source that she stole 90% of the video from. 2) He introduces the profit motive behind this approach. Putting out a lot of content very quickly is how one builds an audience, and therefore an income, out of making stuff on youtube. Plagiarism of this sort is a way to produce content very quickly and build a following. The Internet Historian section introduces two new concepts:

1) The behavior of an exposed plagiarist, taking down and reuploading videos with minor changes, awkwardly trying to insert credit without admitting guilt. 2) That the plagiarists are stealing not just research, but STYLE. Previous sections go over how the plagiarists are reusing the same words, but this section oozes over how much of the final product's quality was the result of how well the source material was written. TIH didn't just crib the notes from the Mentalfloss article, he created a video heavily dependent on the original author's skill as a writer. When TIH tried his own hand at presenting the same set of facts, it came out much worse. So that when the time comes for the Somerton takedown, Hbomb has already laid the groundwork to bring these concepts back. Somerton takes down and reuploads videos when he's caught, he declares this his video is "based on" work by somebody else without providing proper citation. He's not just stealing research done by somebody else, he's taking their insights and talent as a writer and regurgitating it as his own, and he's doing so to churn out a vast wall of content that he can financially benefit from, and he doesn't need to tell you why this is important, because he's already done so. He already convinced you that Illuminaughtii hiding a line in a pastebin didn't excuse her plagiarism, so you don't need to be told why Somerton saying his video is "Based On" somebody else's book doesn't excuse it.

#hbomberguy #rhetoric

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chelseeebe · 7 months ago

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gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie. modern au

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things

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pseudowho · 4 days ago

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You and Kento bustled through the kitchen, and with your arms full of plates, you couldn't resist giving the top of Yuuji's head a nuzzle and a kiss as you passed.

Yuuji smiled at you both, full and warm for the first time in years. You and Kento felt his eyes on you as you weaved past each other, in a practiced after-dinner-clean-up Tango.

"Ah...hey, Nanamin, I-- I've got, uh...I've got a, uhm..."

Kento's interest was piqued. He stopped washing up and, with one raised fine eyebrow, turned to regard Yuuji while he dried the suds off his forearms.

"What is it, Yuuji?"

Yuuji looked awkward. Eventually, he stuttered out through a sheepish grin.

"I've uh...I've got a date tomorrow, so I won't be home for dinner."

A gasp. A smash!clinkclinkclink as you dropped a mug to the floor, and Kento closed his eyes in wounded resignation for the death of his favourite mug. You stepped across him, pressing your palms to the counter, wild-eyed at Yuuji.

"A date?"

"Uh...y-yea--"

"A date date?"

"...I...Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--she can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

"A date!"

You could barely contain your excitement; Kento huffed, plucking pieces of porcelain from the floor, while you squished Yuuji's cheeks and cooed.

Yuuji barely escaped in one piece that evening before bed, grilled for any piece of information you could get your hands on. Eventually, he escaped, the lock clicking behind him as he shut his bedroom door.

Flopping onto your back into bed beside Kento, with enough force to make his reading glasses bounce on his nose, you sighed with one dramatic arm across your forehead.

"I'm just so happy for him, Kento."

A warm little smile; a folding of the book. "Yeah. Yeah, me too. Did he say who it was?"

"You know, of all the things I asked him, I didn't ask him that."

A chuckle, a hum...a silence. A rustle of pages. A gentle removal of reading glasses, and Kento looked over you with quiet scrutiny, as if your state of undress in a t-shirt and nothing more stirred memories for him.

You blinked up at him, "...what's wrong?"

Kento's nose flared, and he laid down beside you, switching the light off. You could hear him blushing in the dark.

"Do you think Yuuji's a virgin?"

You felt a thud of realisation, and answered, "I...should think he probably is. I...what should we..."

"Don't worry," Kento answered, clipped and looping an arm over your waist, "I can handle that."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Yuuji. If you have a moment, could you come and speak to me, please?"

You felt an alarm bell in your soul. The sun was setting, on the evening of Yuuji's date, but Kento was still fully dressed. He'd even buttoned his suit jacket up and redone his tie. His pocket rustled. You could have sworn you saw a droplet of sweat drip down his temple.

You paused your murder documentary...and watched, for this would surely be more horrifying. Yuuji leaned round the bathroom door, innocently curious, and padded over with his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his phone.

"Ah...y-yeah, I think they'll be here in a minu--"

"Sit down. Please. Yuuji."

You could have sworn Kento left dents in the top of the chair that he grasped. Yuuji sat slowly, wary, looking between you and Kento. From your place on the sofa, you shrugged. Kento spoke.

"You're...a young man now, Yuuji."

"Ah...yeah. I-I guess I am. Thank--"

"--and sometimes young men have...urges."

You wished for death, but would take the entertainment before you expired. Yuuji's blush started at his chin, and climbed slowly upwards, a sun-ripening peach.

"...Nanamin. Please, you-- you don't have to do--"

"--and it's important to understand the difference between lust, and love."

"Oh god, Nanamin, I'm begging you--"

"--and while it's only natural to follow your urges, it's important to do so responsibly--"

"--Mrs.Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--he can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

Kento pulled the rustling packet from his pocket, and placed it before Yuuji on the table. The room was thick with silence. Yuuji spoke, his voice breaking and his soul sweating.

"...Nanamin, please say that's candy--"

"I've bought you these condoms--"

"--please just let me die, Nanamin--"

"--ribbed, dots, big, small, strawberry I think--"

"--please-- I have to go--"

"--and I only ask that you're sensible and treat your partner with the respect and dignity they deserve--"

"--please treat me with the respect and dignity I deserve and just kill me Nanamin--"

"...and be home by midnight."

Silence. You had held your breath through the whole thing, and held one hand over your mouth. You studiously avoided Yuuji's gaze. Yuuji's mouth puckered, staring up at Nanami, who looked as serious as a car crash.

Yuuji's phone rang. He snatched it up, and made for the door. Kento called after him, mild, "Your condoms, Yuuji--"

"--oh well shit yeah can't forget those, fuck--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

Yuuji stood at the door, considering answering back. He took a single deep breath. He swallowed hard, and stopped himself from scarpering immediately, and turned back to Kento.

"Hey, uh...was that, erm...was that difficult for you, Nanamin?"

"It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life."

"Yeah, it--it felt it, uhm..." Yuuji waggled the bag of condoms with a smirk, pocketing them, "Thanks, dad. Nobara and Megumi are waiting. We'll go for a date, and the other idiot's our chaperone apparently."

As the door clicked closed, Kento released one great heaving breath, and arched back with his hands over his face, releasing an enormous, animalistic groan of agony.

You bubbled over, snickering, and traced one toe up Kento's thigh from behind.

"...oh hey, Mr.Nanami, sir, can you teach me about the birds and the bees--"

"Quiet."

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troublesomesnitch · 5 months ago

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Meeting Vhagar - Drabble

Aemond x Wife!Reader

Much to your dismay, Prince Aemond insists on bringing your little son to Vhagar. Set sometime during the Dance.

Contents: Just a little practice thing... Dad!Aemond, Targaryen parenting, subtle fluff. Little bit of subtle angst too. No filth this time..

Words: 3000, and very sloppily proof read.

The carriage can only take you so far as to the Iron Gate.

Beyond its massive doors, the Rosby Road winds North, poorly maintained and full of potholes, as it is the shortest of the main roads, and thus the least important. It is not as busy as others, and the gate is not guarded as well - clearly, as the men who should be protecting it are presently engaged in a game of cards, laid out on top of a large, flat rock.

That is where the driver will wait, but it is not your destination.

There is another little trail. One that runs in the opposite direction, scarcely used and partially hidden, visible only to those who know it. No horse or wagon can make the journey, and there is no option but to walk - first along a narrow, trodden path, and then further still, down treacherous steps, carved into the very rock the city rests upon. Past the watchtower, and across the Northern beach, to the vast caves of Maegor the Cruel, where Vhagar has made her nest.

You walk alone, just the two of you. The prince in his coat and boots, and yourself in attire much less suited for the occasion. Fine shoes, fine skirts, and with your little son cradled in your arms.

The gentle rocking of the carriage has lulled him to sleep. Four months old, he is, and a source of such joy that your poor heart can scarcely contain it. From his first high-pitched cry when you brought him into the world - oh, the pains of labour were all but forgotten, as was the threat of the raging war. And when the prince came to see his son, you could hardly even bear to let him hold him.

He wanted to bring the boy much sooner, but both you and the dowager queen staunchly put your foot down against that. Children should not be brought outside the home until they have at least lived through the first perilous weeks, and possibly even their first fever. And even then, most would argue, they have no business being around ferocious animals.

“I don’t like it,” you say, for the umpteenth time, taking the hand offered to you by the prince to help you cross a treacherous stretch. “It is mad, bringing an infant to such a beast - ”

“Vhagar should know him,” he says, steadfast and determined. As he has done whenever you voiced your concern.

It does nothing at all to calm your nerves. But it is his most compelling argument, and the only reason you have allowed this lunacy in the first place. So the dragon would recognise the boy as his, and as one of her own. So she would know to protect him, if - something should happen.

You make it halfway across the pebbled beach before the prince pauses. And you do too, lifting your gaze to follow his line of sight; see what he is looking at.

An enormous, greyish mass, some yards away, that at first you thought was a moss-grown rock, or years of washed up seaweed. But the mass makes a rumbling noise and begins to shift and lift itself, slowly and carefully, as though with much effort. Part of it becomes a leg, another part unfurls into a great wing, and the rock nearest to you becomes a head, with a mouth full of jagged teeth, and two eyes opening slowly. Amber in colour, and with slitted pupils staring straight at you.

“She can sense me,” the prince declares, with no small amount of pride, lifting his chin and straightening his back.

You, however, are paralysed, utterly shocked by her vastness. You have never seen Vhagar this close before, and though you knew of her impressive size, it is one thing to see her soaring across the sky, and quite another to be right next to her, unprotected and vulnerable.

It seems to you that the span of her wings could cover half the city, that entire buildings could fit in her mouth. And certainly, she could end all three of you with her fiery breath, or with a single swipe of her claw or her massive tail. One wrong move, even if accidental, even if she did not mean to - you would all be dead.

“Come,” the prince says, pushing at the small of your back. But you stall, digging in your heels, frozen in place at the sight of her.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you stammer. “We should go back - it is not safe…”

The prince gives an overbearing, if somewhat irritated sigh.

“Dragons are loyal beasts,” he reassures. “Vhagar is loyal to me, she obeys me - ”

“She is a beast,” you hiss, hugging your drowsy son closer to your chest. “She cannot be trusted. It is too dangerous - I won’t let you bring him any closer - ”

Prince Aemond does not like to be challenged. He turns around to look at you coolly, his voice low and scornful as he speaks.

“Is your opinion of me so unfavourable, wife, that you think I would risk harm to my own son?”

“No,” you respond, quietly, but truthfully. Since you were married, your opinion of the prince has only risen, slowly but surely. And it continues to do so, still - though perhaps not right now. “I don’t like it - ”

“Mhm - so you said,” your husband says dryly, all but wrenching the swaddled boy from your arms.

He does not complain, the boy. Prince Aemond comes to visit often, at least once a day, and sometimes more. He sits with the child, reads to him, lets him fall asleep in his arms - not for very long each time, but it is at least enough for the little boy to recognise his father’s low voice and stern face as something safe and comfortable. As is evident from the way he now settles against the prince’s leather-clad chest, tangling his little fist into a lock of his hair.

The beast remains still, pensive as her rider approaches, her serpent’s eyes fixed on the thing in his arms, on what he is bringing her. Your most precious treasure, your life’s very purpose, completely at the mercy of the greatest dragon in the world.

You might have felt more at ease if the soft, sparse hair on his head had been silver like his father’s, but alas, it is not. It is exactly like yours, and only the bright violet of his eyes gives away his true inheritance.

And that seems like too little a thing for such a large creature to notice.

Prince Aemond calls out in that strange language of his, with the open vowels and the rolling R’s. It is beautiful, especially in his mouth, and the dragon responds at once, contorting herself to let him touch her wrinkled neck with affection. Which is a strange sight, but what is even stranger is the way she grumbles - as though she likes it. He speaks to her as if she was another person, in long, full sentences that are much too complicated for you to even attempt to understand. There is only one word you can make out, for the sole reason that he says it twice - yoreliatzeh, or yorelatzya, or something akin to that. You haven’t a clue as to what it means.

Vhagar snorts once, and the prince steps back to give her room to move, to rise up onto her legs and bring her head closer, her nose almost touching his hip. While you stand at a distance, staring at the utterly bizarre scene playing out in front of you. A fearsome, vicious beast, sniffing the child like a dog would. Gently and carefully, only she is so big that each of her cautious breaths is like a small gust of wind, making your husband’s hair billow about his face. When she makes a grunting noise, he carefully unwraps some of the swaddlings, holding the child up to let her see him better, smell him better.

He is bright, your darling boy, and curious, like all babes and children. His eyes are wide as they take in Vhagar’s scaly form, and he gives a soft squeal of surprise or wonder, kicking his little feet under the blankets. Reaching his arm towards the beast's massive head, her massive teeth -

“Aemond, please - ” you gasp, clutching your hands to your throat.

The prince turns his head to give you a stern look, one that clearly shows he is running out of patience. And maybe this time it is justified, because your fearful outburst startles the boy, who begins to squirm unhappily in his father’s arms. Fussing and whimpering; a sound that is as painful to you as salt to an open wound.

“Bring him to me,” you plead, “can’t you see that he is frightened - ”

“He is frightened because you are frightened,” the prince says, as soft spoken as always, but with a hint of something sharp underneath.

He cradles the boy closer to his chest, bouncing him gently, holding his head and murmuring soothing words. Exactly as you would do, and to the same effect. It calms him down, and his big, round eyes start darting around again, taking in his surroundings. The dragon, the grey sea, the fine silver clasps on his father’s clothes. It does seem that the latter intrigues him the most.

Vhagar lifts her neck and tilts her head just slightly, seemingly very interested in the child, in this tiny little creature; the way he moves his little limbs, and his soft coos and noises. There is an almost… thoughtful look in her eyes, or at the very least a curious one.

It makes you wonder about the extent of her perception. Whether she truly knows that this is Aemond’s child, that it came from him, from his body, his flesh. If she can sense it somehow, through the bond they purportedly share, or if she understood it when he spoke to her.

How intelligent is a dragon? Are they like dogs or horses, able to learn the meaning of certain words, but not the full breadth of language? Or do they think as people, with nuance and emotion, and a mind as vivid as your own.

You do not know. You suppose no one really does.

“Come,” the prince calls, reaching his arm towards you, beckoning you closer. However, a single glance at Vhagar, whose mighty gaze is now focused on you, is enough to inspire disobedience in even the most well-behaved wife.

“I would really rather not - ”

“She must know the both of you,” he insists.

“Is that - necessary?” you squirm, wringing your hands, very much aware that you are not a dragon rider, that you haven’t a drop of Valyrian blood. “Vhagar has no reason to think fondly of me…”

The prince scoffs.

“Are you not the mother of my child?” he says. “Now, come.”

You must go to him. He is your lord husband, and he is a prince, and such is the way of things. But you are not at all glad to, and you walk with shaky, reluctant steps, gripping onto his elbow and cowering behind him like a frightened child.

You close your eyes when the dragon lowers her head once more, bringing it towards you. A sudden, low-pitched growl makes your heart tremble, but the prince speaks a soft command. Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī.

It has a calming effect on you too. As does the arm he keeps outstretched in front of you - solely for your comfort, you assume, as it would make no difference whatsoever, should Vhagar decide that she does not like you. But you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

The air is warm, this close to her, and your skirts move around your legs when she breathes, slowly and deeply, while the prince speaks to her in soft tones. That word again, the one from before, and many others. You know the words for wife, for king, for father, brother, sister, even for dragon, but he says none of those now, so you have no guess as to what he is telling her. Or if she understands. Or what he would call you, if not his wife.

This woman is my - spouse? lady? lover?

You do have a kind of love for him, and sometimes you think he does for you, too. Sometimes. One can never be sure of anything with the prince, who keeps himself so closely guarded. Even after more than a year of marriage. Even now that you have given him a child.

The birth went mercifully well, but your recovery was long, and he has only recently begun to come to your bed again. And so far, only a handful of times. The first time, it was so painful for you that the act could not be completed, and the second time, he finished so quickly that it barely even counts. The third was better. Pleasurable for both of you, but still strange after going so long without it - at least for you. It is both likely and possible that the prince satisfied his urges elsewhere while your body was indisposed. You do not know. Nor do you wish to.

The ground shifts beneath your feet, and the heat around you lessens, as does the heavy smell of burned flesh and brimstone, the very same one that so often clings to your husband’s clothes. When you open your eyes it is to the sight of Vhagar, settled onto her belly, her head laid atop her claws. Calm and docile, and with a deep rumble coming from her chest - one that is probably a sign of contentment, even if it sounds utterly terrifying.

“Touch her,” the prince commands, giving a gentle push to your back. “You have nothing to fear, touch her.”

It is quite clear that Vhagar is unruffled by your presence, that she is resting. But with her eyes heavy and half-closed, it makes her look so menacing, so evil - even though you know that evil does not exist inherently in any beast. Only in those who train it.

You draw in a steadying breath, gathering up your courage, reaching your hand out - only to then think better of it and let it fall.

“I am afraid to,” you whisper.

The prince sighs. But his hand closes gently around yours, bringing it to rest on the side of her nose, first the tips of your fingers, and then your whole palm.

It is like nothing else you have ever felt, her scales. You always imagined that a dragon’s skin would feel like leather, but Vhagar’s skin is so much tougher, so much rougher, like running your hand over little rocks. And she is warm - so warm, as though a fire is always burning somewhere in her throat.

She does not object at all to your touch, even when the prince withdraws his own hand, leaving only yours. Only you and Vhagar. The largest, oldest being in the world.

To think, the things she has seen. The conquest, the Dornish Wars, the very founding of the realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Dozens of castles have crumbled in her fire, and thousands of people have perished, and she has fought and won hundreds of battles; torn through stone, rock and earth as though it was boiled jelly.

It is at once terrifying and romantic, like something from a fairytale, or stories of ancient times. A creature of such myth and legend that you almost feel as though you should bow down to her, as one does before a great matriarch.

Vhagar the Conqueror. Queen of all Dragons.

She closes her eyes when you draw back.

“He might ride her too, some day,” the prince says quietly. Wistfully.

“But dragons only have one rider - ” you protest, cutting yourself off when you realise what he meant. What he left unsaid.

This is war. The realm is at war. Death is everywhere; at the end of a blade, in the point of an arrow. And if not on the field of battle, then in tainted water or plague-ridden camps; empty bellies or festering wounds.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” you mutter, looking down at your feet. Your dirtied shoes.

The prince does not answer. A heavy mood has settled over the rocky beach, something vast and bleak and empty, only compounded by the surroundings. The colourless sky, the sombre crashing of waves. Even Vhagar gives a doleful sigh, as though she too is weary of what is to come.

She has been the prince’s companion since childhood. He was born to the queen, but Vhagar made him what he is, made him ruthless, made him brutally ambitious. Made him Aemond One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer. Prince Regent, Protector of the Realm. She has known him boy and man, as well as any, and better than most. She has known him in life, and she may yet know him in death.

You push that thought away as forcefully as your mind allows. You shouldn’t think such things.

A coo from your son breaks the tension, and his eyes turn to the sky, where a large heron is flapping its wings. The afternoon is turning to evening, and soon the bell will ring for supper - something warm and comforting, you hope. You are cold, your breasts feel sore, and you have most certainly had enough excitement for one day. For several days, in fact.

“Can we go, please,” you breathe, looking up at your husband with wide, pleading eyes.

“She is tired,” he says, with a soft glance at Vhagar’s terrifying face, and a gentle touch to her side. “Yes, we should.”

—

You walk slower on the way back. Uphill, with sore feet, and your boy now fast asleep in your arms. Safe and snug where he belongs.

“My Prince,” you begin, sweet and innocent. “What does… yoreliatzeh mean?”

There is a sly little smile on his face when you look at him, a self-assured look in his remaining eye.

“Jorrāeliarza,” he corrects, with an artful pause before he continues. As though to keep you in suspense. “It means dear. Or… beloved.”

If he sees the sudden blush on your face, he does not let on.

“Jorālitzeh.”

“No,” he says. “Jor-rāe-liar-za.”

“Jor-rāe-liar-za,” you repeat, trying your very best to mimic the exact movements of his mouth, the way he gently rolls his tongue. “Jorrāeliarza.”

“Better,” he nods, and then you round a corner, just in time to see the guards hastily hide their cards away, and the driver shuffling back towards the carriage, eagerly shoving his winnings into a pocket.

Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza.

Dear. Beloved.

You like that very much.

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness, @aemondsbabygirl, @qyburnsghost, @blackswxnn

I am a mess with the tagging, I'm so sorry if I forgot or wrongly tagged anyone. Let me know, I will fix it.

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond fluff

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cherrynflowergarden · 4 months ago

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disgusting(ly in love) || matt sturniolo

an; hiiii my loves how are y'all?? someone please give me some ideas for this i wanna make one for chris too:( this was originally supposed to be for 10 mins but i ran out of ideas and ended up making it 8 mins THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU ALL<33

summary; a youtube compilation of matt and yn being in love for 8 mins.

tagged; @t1llysblogs

matt was bored. and on youtube. having stumbled upon a video titled "MATT AND YN BEING DISGUSTING(LY IN LOVE)!!!??? tw happy couple (ew)" he decided he had nothing better to do than watch this.

clip one; sleeping beauties

the clip started with nick going down the stairs and screaming for matt. what he didn't know was yn, matt's girlfriend had stayed over.

expecting matt to be awake, he pushed the door open with his vlog camera on.

there laid matt and yn, all cuddled up on the bed. the blanket covered their tangled legs yet the way matt held his girl against his chest was enough to make everyone jealous of the couple. near them mr wrinkleton, matt's pug plushie and ms bubbles, yn's rabbit plushie cuddled too, almost making it look just like the couple in plushie forms.

a small laugh left nick, as he zoomed the camera into their faces.

clip two; twitch stream

matt was streaming on twitch with his brothers while his girlfriend went out on lunch with her friends.

coming back home, yn did not expect to hear shouts from each brother's room. assuming they were only playing video games with each other, she yelled "honeyyyyyy i'm homeeeeee" right as she entered in matt's room. not giving him any time to answer the girl skipped her way to her boyfriend and sat on his lap; all excited to tell him about the latest gossip session she had with her girls.

but that could wait for a while.

he looked so beautiful that she couldn't help but wrap her arms around his neck, giving a sweet kiss on his lips. pulling away she kissed his cheeks and mumbled "god you're so cute".

giggling softly, the boy pulled her face up and said "thank you baby" she was about to say something when chris screamed "OH MY VIRGIN EYES". laughing at the way her eyes got wide, matt explained "we're streaming baby"

clip three; birthday gift

sometimes yn vloged. since the triplets' birthday was coming soon, she decided to vlog the entire process of shopping for the brothers.

twelve minutes into the video, she was all set and ready with meaningful gifts for each brother. once she put all the gifts in separate bags for each brother, she smiled at the camera. "finally. it was such a tiring day. now only one thing is left to do. y'all remember the paints i brought? well we're doing a fun little craft." taking out the red and pink paints, she went to grab a plain black tshirt.

cutting a heart stencil out of a paper, she stuck the paper to the tshirt's back. applying the fabric paint on her lips she started kissing the cloth between the cutout paper heart. applying different shades of pink and red, she filled kisses in the shape of a heart. laughing at her now smudged 'lipstick' she showed the camera her now ready gift.

"gonna let it dry now. i think i will maybe do something in the front also. not sure. will keep you guys updated!!"

safe to say, matt loved his gift so much that he demanded another kiss tshirt so that he could wear her kisses every day.

clip four; beach

this was a short clip from the hawaii vlog. the triplets, yn, maddie and nate where walking to the beach near hotel. well not all of them were walking through.

yn decided she was too tired to walk today and matt being the absolute angel he is, let her to hop on his back as he carried the girl to the beach.

maddie had vlogged matt carrying his girl on his back, humming to whatever she had to say. the camera captured matt listening carefully to his girlfriend as she spoke animatedly about penguins. the last thing the camera captured was yn repeatedly kissing the boy's cheek as he smiled before chris pushed the couple claiming "it was sick to watch people in love"

clip five; beach again

this was a clip from the same vlog as the last. matt and yn were seen enjoying in the water. splashing water against eachother their joyous laughs could be heard.

suddenly matt lifted the girl up, enjoying her screams of fear. dropping her a little, matt laughed harder as his girl tightened her hold on his neck. "matt i swear to god if you throw me in the water" laughing at her empty threats, matt dropped her down a little.

"MATTEW STURNIOLO"

"but baby i love you" he said as he completely dropped her down.

clip six; deaf, mute and blind challenge

yn sometimes participated in the triplets' videos. right now she was a part of the deaf mute and blind challenge. nick and chris were deaf, matt was mute and she was blind.

it was tough to be blind when she was only one who could actually cook something but nothing goes according to her wish, right?

which brings us to this moment. yn, desperately trying to find the bowl which contained the pancake mixture. looking at his struggling girlfriend, matt came behind her and pulled the bowl towards them. putting the whisk in her hand, he grabbed her from behind and helped her whisk the ingredients together. mumbling a small thank you the girl was finally relieved as the process was almost over.

all while nick and chris danced and screamed to doja cat.

clip seven; grwm

yn was filming a get ready with me to go to a date. while she was putting the make up on, her boyfriend entered the room. saying a quick hi to him she turned back to explain her makeup process to her followers.

"—oh y'all need to try this mascara. it's sooooo good. i literally cried—" hugging the girl matt cut off her rant. he squeezed the girl in his arms as she turned around to place a kiss on his cheek. laughing at the bright red stain her lipstick left on his cheeks she tried to grab a tissue to wipe it off. protesting against it, the boy pulled her closer to him.

clip eight; dancing in the snow

the clip was from a random vlog yn posted. it started off with yn putting her vlog camera on the car's bonet and running towards matt. the two, fully covered in wools from head to toe danced in the snow without any music.

matt twirled his girl, a small laugh leaving him as the girl lost balance and collided with him, pushing the two to the ground.

it may seem silly to others, dancing without any music or laughing like madmen in the snow but to them this was the best moment of their life.

as the video ended, matt pouted at the screen. he now missed his girlfriend. he decided to facetime his girl not knowing chris was right behind him and he recorded matt smiling and blushing at moments with his girlfriend. probably this would end up in another compilation of matt and yn being in love.

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joelscurls · 1 year ago

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best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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4rafe · 1 month ago

Text

rafe cameron

setting down the perfect shade of a baby pink louis vuitton backpack onto rafes messy bed. he had got you a full set of louis vuitton luggage for your birthday just a couple of weeks ago, personalized it with such a beautiful pink and your name embroidered on.

opening your bag, mindlessly going through the couple of pairs of brandy melville pajama sets you packed with you and choosing which one you wanted to wear more. choosing between one and the other was so complicated but when all else fails, you can always rely on the opinion from a man with the name, rafe cameron!

you picked up both sets, making sure the cute design showed perfectly with a huge giggly smile on your face. the sounds of your feet hitting the wood floor as you were walking up to him to ask the big question, "rafey, which one" you smiled big, only your eyes peeking over the pj sets as you held them up for his decision. even though you gave him two options, there was one you 'picked out' in specific. insisting he answer 'correctly' with the tone in your voice.

he turned around to look at you when you called his name following with a question. his eyebrows furrowed from the petty little design that covered the sets of your clothing. raising his pointer finger to choose which set even as the words came out of his mouth, "that one, bunny." he answered as his phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer.

you squealed to yourself with a big happy smile on your face, you were ecstatic that he choose the one you wanted him to even though you knew either one would have been just.. fine. you thought to yourself about your silliness to ask whenever you knew what you wanted to wear but it was much better having rafey pick for you.

when he choose, you stood up on your tippy toes as far as you could to reach rafes cheek as he held his phone up to his ear on the other side, giving him a sloppy kiss for his decision before having to come back down as you couldn't stand on them for very long. being in a talking stage with a man who stood at 6'1" came with its many different challenges, romantic ones included but, in all ends, you really liked it.

making your way back to rafes bed where your backpack still laid you heard him mumble something to you. hearing his mumbles made you turn back around, looking at him, "hm?" you questioned. notifying to rafe that you don't know what he had asked of you the first time but now he had your attention.

rafe brought his hand up to chin, rubbing slowly as if he was in a trance of thought, "why do you bring that backpack with you every time you stay, princess?" he had asked of you. you turned around to face him, placing the backpack onto the ground after all decisions were made. "its my spend-the-night bag!" you smiled big at him and giggled in response.

"what the hell is a spend-the-night bag, that's fuckin stupid." he said to you and your smile dropped instantly which was so weird because you knew how rafe was, mean. but he never really meant it "mean" towards you it still doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

he saw as your smile dropped, knowing his words hurt you tremendously. he waved his hand at you, telling you to come to him. he took a seat on the bench that was placed in his room, as you walked towards him. as you stood in front of him, he wrapped his fingers around your thigh, pulling you forward as he guided your legs around his. as you sat down on his lap you let down your head, feeling embarrassed that he saw his words effect you so much. he brought his hand up to your chin, feeling his cold golden rings on your skin, lifting it up so you were looking at his eyes and he started to explain to you,

"bunny.. all im saying is, everyone in this shitty town knows you're mine. there's no need to keep bringing your stuff back and forth. just move all your stuff in with me." hearing his sweet words made a big smile appear on your face again which made rafey smile as well. he made you so happy, it was silly, you were head over heels for him and you wanted everyone to know it.

later that week, you were all moved in. so so in love.

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biteyoubiteme · 5 months ago

Text

pretty boy; bloody nose

fem!reader x bangchan

synopsis: you're a doctor at a hospital where Chan comes after a fight.

warnings: 🔞!!! boxer!chan, blood, broken bones, bruises, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding if you squint, 'pretty girl' used once, choking (m!rec), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 4k

an: all the photos of chan at or for the Fendi show have me gagged lol feedback is appreciated!! :)) [m.list] check out my other chan fic :)) [am/pm]

It was your starting shift when Chan came in. clutching his bloody nose with one bruised hand and pressing his other one to his wounded side. “my savior,” he smiled, dimpled cheek prominent even through the pain. He had blood in his mouth, teeth tinted pink with it.

“Someone had a good night,” you laugh flipping open his chart, “says some minor pain but you seem to have lied seeing as you are currently bleeding right in front of me and you didn’t log it,”

“my nose is fine, it was checked out by my coach, it should stop bleeding soon,” the rag he has to his face soaked through with red. “and I’m not a liar it’s only a bit painful and I wouldn’t have come in if I wasn’t contractually supposed to,”

“uh huh,” you nod, tapping your pen against the clipboard you held. “So your nose doesn’t need to be set because your coach, who may or may not have any medical background, said so?”

his smile widened and the cut on his eyebrow started to leak again from the movement. “exactly,”

“and I don’t need to see what you’re hiding right there,” you point with your pen to his fingers cupping his hip.

“nope, I’m mainly a bit sore around the arms, so minor pain. I am not a liar,” he shrugs and you let yourself fully take him in past his injuries. He's slouched back against the hospital bed, his white tank splattered with his blood, gray sweatpants slouchy on his hips. if you could see his whole face without his hand in the way you’re sure he’s gorgeous essentially with a smile like that. what you didn’t like was to watch someone's cocky ass waltz in and say they aren’t hurt when it’s obvious they are.

“well I am also contractually obligated to give you the best care I can offer and as your doctor, I’m here to say I can’t let you go without an exam,”

“full body?” his tongue running across his teeth as you roll your eyes. it wasn’t exactly professional to let your annoyance show but you didn’t think he would run and tell someone.

“let's start with your nose,” you turn placing your clipboard down and picking up a pair of gloves, “lean your head back,”

Chan follows your orders as you walk around the bed to his side.

“How did you end up here?” you ask, lifting the rag from his face. His nose wasn’t bleeding as much as it must have been earlier but it was still messy. And even with blood smeared all over, he was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen especially as he grinned up at you.

“fighting,” he shrugs.

“Is this the part where you tell me that I should see the other guy?” you reach over to grab some clean gauze before cleaning up his upper lip.

“Maybe,” he dragged out the word, the smile as flirty as ever.

you lightly press your finger to his nose to check if it’s broken but only feel a little swelling. “keep your head back to stop the bleeding. let's now see your side and then we will tape up your eyebrow,”

“I’m perfectly fine,”

“Not unless I say you are, come on let me see,”

Chan is slow to lift his shirt but when he does his side is covered in deep purple bruises. “you're going in for a CT,”

“what? no, I'm fine it was a few hits nothing I haven't felt before,”

“better safe than sorry I'm sure you've heard that saying before. next time don't go getting into fights,”

“It's kinda my job,”

“pretty boys like you shouldn't be fighters, and they shouldn't be putting their perfectly healthy bodies in distress, we need to check for any internal bleeding,” you peel your gloves off tossing them in the bin along with any bloodied gauze, chan's head still laid back as he watches you, “a nurse will be in to take care of your eyebrow and take you for the CT,” you pick up his chart, penning in the request.

“You're not going to take me?”

“I'll be back in to discuss the results it shouldn't be too long a wait it's slow tonight,” you didn't look up from his chart as you said it but you did when he said, “I want you to take me,” it's not suggestive in any way but the way that he says it is, deep and throaty like an invitation. his head lobbed to one side watching you, eyes leaving a trail of heat up your body as they trace your figure.

“I will see you after your results come back,” you say, rushing to get out as fast as possible. it was frowned upon to flirt with patients no matter how hot they looked or how willing they seemed to flirt back. you went on your rounds before getting Chan's results, the nurse bringing them to you with a smile.

“he will not stop talking about you,”

“What?” but you can feel your heart thumping all of a sudden.

“asking questions and whatnot,” she giggles as you pull out his scans. “Does she usually work Thursdays? Is she seeing someone? going on and on,”

“about me?” You're a little shocked but trying to play it off.

“if you don't give him your number I will hand mine over,”

“We cannot give our numbers out to patients,” but your blush is hot on your face. who would know you gave him your number? no one. “we will both be out shortly please have his discharge paperwork ready,”

“Should I put your number on it?” she jokes and you roll your eyes before pushing his room door open.

“no internal bleeding,” you say once you close the door. “but you should ice your side the swelling will go down soon,”

“I told you nothing was wrong, he couldn’t hit hard enough to cause internal bleeding anyways,” Chans sitting up now with his legs off the bed.

“you should be getting checked regularly for damage that is visible, especially if you have pain,”

“It was only a little pain,” he rolls his shoulders back making his tank top stick to his pecks.

“you should take an over the counter pain med and then try to avoid fighting,”

“Now where’s the fun in that? if I hadn’t been sent here I wouldn’t have met you,” dimples on display just for you.

“uh huh sure,” you wave at him to stand, “Let's get you out of here before you steal the hearts of the nurses,”

“the only heart I��m interested in is yours,” it’s cheesy but you can’t help the smile it gives you. “Let's go,” you laugh, pulling open the door for him. when he walks out he turns to face you moving backwards.

“if I got into another fight would I be able to ask for you specifically or would you need to give me a number to hold onto just in case?”

“flirty and shameless,” you say, walking him to the front desk to check out.

“that did not answer my question,”

“I’m sure you could find me in the hospital directory if you looked hard enough,”

“and if you’re not working? will it go straight to voicemail or will I somehow be able to get you over to take care of me?”

“for someone who didn’t need my help at all for his little bit of pain, he sure is worried for his safety now,”

“I was told by a gorgeous doctor that I should be concerned with putting my perfect body and pretty face in the line of fire,”

“I said you had a perfectly healthy body,” you shake your head at him.

“You did say my face was pretty tough,” he leans against the desk elbow propped up to the perfect height to flex. “And I'm sure I can show you how perfect my body can be,”

“goodbye Chan,” you wave your fingers in his direction walking away before you embarrass yourself in front of your coworkers.

It's only a week later when you see Chan's chart in front of you again. “This one was asking for you by name,” the nurse comments.

“of course he was,” but even as you say the words you can't help but feel the fluttering in your stomach. most people who came in you didn't see again and if they flirted you were happy to see them gone but Chan wasn't making you feel that way.

he was alone in his room when you went in. laid out on the bed with his hand to his nose. It was like deja vu only now his tank was black instead of white. blood dripping down to his lips that smile directed at your heart. his eyebrow looked better but was still slightly discolored from last week.

“I think this time it's broken,” but he's not showing any pain if it's the truth.

“your nose again? you’re too pretty to be taking punches to the face,” you pull on a pair of gloves walking over to inspect him.

“That's why they do it, they are jealous,” he lifts away the gauze the nurse must have given him.

His nose is clearly broken and needs to be set. you press your finger lightly to the bridge checking out the bone. Chan's eyes flutter shut and he lets out a weak moan, so soft that you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to his face. you try to ignore the sound feeling along his cheekbones but when you press to the corner of his eye he lets out another soft whine.

“I'm going to have to reset it,” you say pulling your hands away from him, “you can set up an appointment-“

“can't you just do it now? I don't think I'll need all the fuss of local anesthetic i think I can handle it,”

“It's going to hurt,”

“it didn't hurt much when I was hit I'm sure it won't be too bad the other way around,”

“You know it's okay to admit when it's painful,” you say, prodding again at his nose, he gives another soft moan at the touch, shifting his hips and leaning further back.

“I like it, so even when it's a little painful I don't mind,”

you move to grab a splint for his nose before preparing him, “I'll be quick so you shouldn't feel much but it will still hurt,” this wasn't the first time you've had to fix someone's broken nose but it would be the first time you were worried about messing up someone's face. you had full trust in your abilities but your anxiety was not helping.

Chan crossed his arms nodding before you pressed the heel of your palm to his nose, “Deep breath,” he followed your instructions and without warning you reset his nose. He flinched knuckles bleached from holding on so tight to himself, moaning as you pulled your hands back. you grabbed the split to finish the job, “see quick and easy,” his voice thick before he clears it. “I think I need a minute,”

“I can get something for the pain real fast,” you say tugging off your gloves already moving to get the meds.

“no no I don't need that, I just need a second,” his head is leaned back, throat exposed, arms still crossed while he shifts his hips again drawing your attention to his waist. you can clearly see the outline of his hard bulge through his gray sweatpants.

“Oh!” you turn around fast to try and give him some form of privacy feeling your face get hot. “I um- I'll just-“ you cut yourself off picking up his chart and moving to the door. you close the door as he tries to say something but you’re already down the hall trying not to think about what you saw. you don’t really care it’s not the first time you’ve seen someone turned on in the hospital although all the other times you rolled your eyes. Now you’re stuttering and trying not to think of Chan in a way that could get you into trouble.

but it’s all you can think about.

how long would he need? would he be actively trying to get rid of his problem mentally or physically? what would have happened if you had stayed? would it have been beyond awkward or would you officially have to resign for having sex while on shift?

you give Chan's chart to another doctor to check over your work and send him off. you didn’t want to go in and embarrass him or embarrass yourself for that matter. so you hid like a coward.

it was a rare night off for you and you took the opportunity to spend it with your old friends.

at a nightclub on a busy strip downtown your friends decide to bar hop. you had a late shift tomorrow anyway and didn’t care about sleeping in. At the third bar, your friend's boyfriend starts talking about a fight happening across the street. “the guy's undefeated I swear I just wanna see the end,”

“If you’re dragging us along you’re paying the entrance fee,” your friend says before another pipes up, “and a drink each!”

“Fine, fine let’s go, it's already started!” all of you rush across the street joining the moving queue as people file into the building.

You can hear the cheering already, the announcer shouting over the speakers, your shoes sticking to the floor as if you were still at the bar. but this is far from it, people are jostling each other around, and the seats all first come already full. it’s not until you’re making your way up the steps of the bleachers that you see who’s in the ring.

Chan is shirtless and glistening with sweat, hair stuck down across his forehead, lip bleeding around his mouth guard. muscles rippling as he delivers a blow to his opponent.

you’re almost shocked still and unmoving in your walk up to a seat. someone behind you tries to move past you and you stumble, unaware of your surroundings.

Chan doesn’t know why he looks up because he always tries to focus solely on the person in front of him determined to beat him. but he does let his eyes flicker up to the stands to see you apologizing to someone moving past you. He's caught off guard by your presence and the right hook that makes his head snap away from you.

the crowd shouts in disapproval as you take your seat. Chan is now bleeding from his nose like every other time you’ve seen him. The droplets of blood fell to his toned stomach each breath pushing the trail of blood further down.

you’ve never been into fighting, not watching or participating but now you’re fully invested. you don’t even want a drink when your friends ask if you need anything. your eyes follow Chan as he delivers hit after hit to the man in front of him. and when they call a winner you’re up out of

your seat cheering along with the rest of the watchers.

“omg is he looking at us? I swear he’s looking right at us,” your friend laughs next to you.

Chan is in fact looking up the stands at you. That dimpled smile on full display after he’s taken his mouth guard out. when he sees you looking back he mouths ‘Wait for me’ and you’re putty. you don’t even try to think that he could have been talking to someone else because you’re delusional enough not to give a fuck.

when you make it down to where Chan is signing autographs you’re a little nervous after how you left things. but that goes away when he grins, split lip reopening. “my favorite medical professional,”

“I thought I warned you not to get your pretty face in the way of someone’s fist?”

“How else am I supposed to see you if I don’t come in needing your assistance?”

the crowd around you is clearing and you’ve already told your friends not to wait on you so when Chan asks, “Can we talk?” nodding his head in the direction of the locker rooms, you don’t turn him down.

He leads you to the hallway just out of the way from everyone else. “I wanted to apologize for the last time I saw you,”

“no no, I should apologize I shouldn’t have given you someone else to work with,”

“no really I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I swear I was trying really hard not to have any kind of reaction I just-“

“It's okay truly I wasn’t uncomfortable it’s natural although I've never reset someone’s bones and had that happen-“

“I'm sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck, arm flexing and you realize he’s still shirtless. all finely toned muscles on display the damp towel used to wipe away any blood and sweat thrown over his shoulder. but a spot of blood had been missed right at the band of his shorts. without thinking you reached out to brush it away with your thumb.

Chan and you stood frozen, his breath shallow as he watched your finger wipe at his skin just low enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“Are you doing anything else tonight?” he asks when you pull away.

“you were just in a fight and you still want to go out?”

“with you? yes. With anyone else? no,” you’re standing close together and when someone walks past to reach the locker room door Chan moves in blocking you against the wall. your hand comes up and rests on his ribs, his bruises gone from his first visit only now to be replaced with fresh ones.

he’s leaning down close to you as another person moves around you two to enter the locker room. Chan's breath fanning your ear before he whispers, “We don’t have to go out, we could stay in…”

he technically was not your patient, you weren’t at work and you weren’t obligated to deny yourself anymore. not when Chan was standing here willing and you were wet from just watching him win his match.

“Okay,” your voice was low and weak but all the confirmation Chan needed to pull you along after him.

past the locker rooms are a few offices and Chan knows there’s a secluded restroom right by there. you don’t even think twice as he shuts the door behind you locking it. you’re both on each other the second Chan turns around. hot and heavy kisses down your neck and over your collar as Chan palms your ass over your short skirt. your hands tugging at his hair but not the way Chan likes, “harder,” he breathes between kisses, “I want it to hurt,” and when you do his moan is music to your ears.

Chan walks you back into the wall pressing you against the tile next to the sink.

“When I thought about fucking you I never imagined you dressed like this,” Chan lifts your leg to his hip, hot hand running under your thigh and up under your skirt.

“disappointed we can’t play doctor?”

“I don’t care as long as I finally get to have you,” Chan's free hand slides up under

your shirt palming you over your bra. his mouth is back on yours as he wedges his knee between your legs. his thigh placed right against your clothed clit.

Chan's hand fits right in the pit between your hip and thigh, fingers digging in as he pulls you forward on his thigh.

your hips start to move against him, moaning into his mouth as you rock back and forth against him. “My pretty girl wants me so bad,” he breathes, planting kisses down your jaw. “I can already feel how wet you are for me,”

with anyone else you would have been embarrassed about how needy you were but you didn’t care with Chan. not when he had been on your mind for weeks now, when every time you got off recently you had been imagining Chan's fingers doing the job instead of your own.

Chan taps your other leg muttering, “Jump,” and you follow his orders, Chan moving to set you down on the sink’s countertop. He pulls away, hooking his fingers in your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stays on his knees leaning over to kiss you on your inner thigh. you tug off your shirt tossing it on the counter next to you.

you cup Chan's jaw letting your thumb run over his bruised bottom lip, your finger moves over his nose brushing down the slope. Chan's smile is lazy, his gaze pouring over you. “you’re healing nicely,”

“to have your hands all over me I’d make a million more visits, and,” he lifts himself until his lips are brushing yours, “I love the pain,”

you slip your hand into the waistband of Chan's shorts wrapping your fingers around his stiff length. He moans loudly against your cheek as you stroke him. Chan's hand pushes under your skirt pressing his thumb into your clit, circling slowly.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Chan grunts pushing your skirt up higher around your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter before you remove your hands from his already leaking cock.

Chan pushes down his pants to free himself before he’s lining up with your entrance.

he doesn’t hesitate to thrust in fully pressing his pelvis to yours. both of you moan out your arms wrapping around his shoulders. chan inches out before slowly pushing back in. You whine, laying your head back until it’s laid against the mirror.

you wrap one of your hands around Chan's neck, “is this okay?”

Chan nods, “Harder please harder,” you squeeze enough to make his eyes flutter, the same way they had when you were back in the hospital fixing his nose, his hips finally picking up pace. every drag of his cock makes a bolt travel down from your spine to your knees. your back arching, Chan drags his teeth down your throat.

your free hand scratches down Chan's back and you move your hips to meet his, trying to build any friction.

“you feel so deep,” your voice not sounding like you as Chan angels himself up brushing against your g-spot. your legs wrapped around him shake at the contact, your walls squeezing around his cock.

“I wanna hear you cum for me,” Chan moves his fingers between you rubbing your clit until you see spots, knowing exactly what you needed.

Chan picks up his thrusting pace, punishing you with his cock, tip pressed right against the deepest part of you. “cum inside me please,” you beg, your nails usually nicely kept for work scratching him like they weren’t shortened.

His thrusts falter at your words, his moan in your hair loud and echoing in the small room. “please I want it, I want to feel it,” your fingers around his throat give a squeeze and Chan knows he won’t be able to deny you.

with a few sloppy thrusts, Chan is coming hard enough that his upper half gives out, laying on you. your hands leaving his throat and twisting in his hair as he shoots out ropes of hot cum inside you, hips jerking.

The feeling of his release and his fingers on your clit send you over the edge, your legs locking around him as you cry out his name. Chan's slow thrusts help you ride out your high. both of you panting arms wrapped around each other not wanting to let the other go.

clarity starts to set in as you catch your breath, your hair sticking to the back of

your neck. chan pulls out, the slick sound making you pulse around nothing. Chan watches as your combined cum slides out. He lifts your leg under your thigh using his thumb to spread your pussy lips apart watching as more comes out. “Next time I’m at the hospital I won't be able to forget this,” he drags his thumb up to your clit making you jump. spreading the slick around, “I might even ask for you to treat me this well again,”

#bangchan x reader #bangchan smut #bang chan #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids bang chan #changbin #hyunjin #lee felix #lee know #i.n skz #seungmin #kpop smut #skzsmut #han jisung #chan x reader #skz bang chan

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enha-stars · 7 months ago

Text

✧ happy mother’s day, mamas (18+)

Pairing: Husband!Heeseung x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: It’s mother’s day and your husband and daughter bring you breakfast in bed. They each have different ways of showing you how much they love you, their mama.

Warnings: Kissing, Mentions of Pregnancy, SMUT, minor food play, fingering, unprotected sex (don't), pregnancy kink, religious imagery, down bad heeseung, oral (f rec), degrading & praising

A/n: I wanted to post this for mother's day. but oh well. Also, this was supposed to be a drabble i have no idea how it got to be 5k.

As the warm rays of the morning sun slipped through the parted curtains, painting the room in a soft golden glow, you stirred beneath the warm blanket. Your eyelids fluttered open, welcoming the gentle warmth that accompanied the sun’s gentle ascent into the sky.

The room was still and quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds greeting the morning. With a contented sigh, you stretched out your limbs, yawning as the crisp sheets cradled your pregnant body. As gently as you could, you turned onto your back, reaching out to the space beside you.

You frowned when you were met with more mattress, your husband’s warm body long gone. Grunting, you slowly sit up. One hand beside you while the other wrapped around your belly, wanting to make sure that the fetus inside didn’t feel any jerk movements.

Back propped up against the headboard, you close your eyes as a gentle smile plays on your lips. Now that you were sitting up, you could clearly smell the wafting aroma of waffles and chicken bacon. You eye the empty space beside you and pat the cold mattress.

You didn’t even feel Heeseung slide out of bed. Usually, you’re very in tune to him while you’re sleeping and he’s even more in harmony with you.

Before you could dwell on how much effort it probably took him to unwrap his arms from your body and tiptoe out of the bedroom, a loud crash outside your bedroom jolts you upright. You grip the blanket as your foot twitches, subconsciously ready to approach the mess.

You hear quiet giggles and your husband’s voice softly whispering, “It’s okay, sweetness. I’ll clean it up later.”

As the door quietly clicks open, your smile widens at the sounds of your daughter’s little huffs and your husband's noises of encouragement. You watch with wide eyes as your daughter waddles into your bedroom in her pink basketball pajamas, holding a glass of mango juice.

Heeseung follows brightly behind her, holding a tray filled to the brim with food. His eyes travel from his daughter’s little form to you, laying in bed. He makes eye contact with your shiny, sleep-filled eyes and he watches as you visibly soften.

His grin turns into a full blown smile as he nears closer. You look so beautiful, sitting there with your hair a bit unruly and unkempt. Your night gown is wrinkled and one of your hands is laid flat on your belly. You smile brightly at him as your eyes soak in the scene before you.

Heeseung stands tall in his blue basketball pajama shorts that match your daughter’s. They hang lowly on his hips and his lean chest is exposed, making your cheeks warm at the sight. Your eyes travel downwards and your smile turns emotional as you watch your daughter trying to balance the glass in her hand.

“Hi, mama,” your little girl whispers. You almost can’t control the emotions swirling in your eyes at the sight of her shiny eyes and full cheeks. She looks so much like your husband and you’re thankful for it everyday.

“You don’t have to whisper, flower. Mama’s awake.” Heeseung grins at his little girl, finding her absolutely adorable. Dahlia was only five, so she couldn’t really see you as she stood at the foot of your bed.

“Hi, flower,” you greet her, softly. At your voice, she giggles and walks to your side of the bed. She smiles brightly at you, her front tooth missing. You coo at her as you set the glass of mango juice on the side table and pull her up.

“Careful, baby,” Heeseung frowns. He watches carefully as you pull your daughter into your lap, making sure you don't exert yourself. He balances the tray with one hand and grabs the foldable table before walking to your side of the bed.

In your arms, your daughter immediately melts. Her little arms wrap around your chest and she presses her face into your shoulder. You kiss the top of her head as you rub her back.

Ever since you found out that you were pregnant, almost five months ago, Heeseung had been encouraging Dahlia to sleep in her own bedroom. It was going really well for the most part, but some nights were harder than others.

“Missed you, mama.” Her quiet voice mumbles against your skin. You pout at her before nuzzling your nose into her hair. “I missed you too, flower.”

“Dahlia, sweetness, will you help me set up the table for mama?” Heeseung’s voice pulls your daughter out of your arms as she immediately nods and slides off your lap. You and Heeseung watch fondly as she quickly pulls the table legs out and sets the table over your thighs, mindful of your big belly.

You shuffle a bit on the mattress and fix the blanket before you nod at Heeseung. He sets the tray of food on the table and steps back. He watches your reaction carefully, nervously biting his bottom lip. His eyes fall on his daughter and he bites back a smirk as she mirrors his exact expression.

You stare at the tray in disbelief. On it, was a plate of three waffles, a smaller plate with chicken bacon strips, and a bowl of fruit. A singular pink dahlia rests in a thin vase and you pick it, bringing it to your nose.

Heeseung watches you with a stupid smile as you sniff the flower. The dahlia was an important flower to both of you. It was the first flower he had ever picked and given to you, leading to your daughter. He, without fail, always gave you one on special occasions.

A reminder of the incident that brought you both together. It was a reminder of the softer things in life, of your shared love.

You set the flower back in the vase and look up at Heeseung, eyes teary as emotion renders you speechless. Your daughter sits beside you, eyes wide in anticipation. She has been incredibly excited for Mother’s Day, eating Heeseung’s ear off with different ideas.

“I think she likes it, Dahlia,” Heeseung whispers to his daughter. He sits on the edge of the mattress, as close as he can to you. He rests a hand on the other side of your legs and stares softly at you, waiting for the rush of emotion to subside.

“Really?” Dahlia asks, a little disappointed. “Why is Mama not saying anything?”

You let out a breathy laugh and Heeseung is so entranced by it he almost forgets to answer his little girl. “Give her a second, flower.” He turns his head to Dahlia and smiles at her focused expression. She looks a lot like you when she is focused, or scheming. “Remember what I said about patience?”

Dahlia sighs and solemnly nods. You laugh at her fallen expression and inch closer, curious. Heeseung was always murmuring little reminders to your daughter whenever he could. “What did papa say about patience, little flower?”

Dahlia sits back and purses her little lips before glancing at Heeseung who stares at her with a raised eyebrow. She smiles at you sheepishly before shuffling closer to you. “Papa said I have to be more pat… patient,” she stutters. “Cuz the baby is coming.”

You glance at Heeseung and he simply shrugs at you. You smile at her and pat the empty space next to you. She drags herself closer to you, resting her head on your arm. “Thank you for being patient for mama, Dahlia.”

Instead of responding, she tucks her face into your side and Heeseung laughs at her shyness. With him, she was always slightly hyper. But with you, she was incredibly soft. He couldn’t blame her, of course. You were the light of their lives.

“Thank you for breakfast, my loves.” You’re staring at Heeseung and he inches closer. He leans forward and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes in contentment and only open them when you feel your cheeks being squished.

You open your eyes to your daughter’s hands on either side of your face and before you can say anything, she kisses you hard on the lips. You stare at her in surprise and Heeseung’s jaw falls to the floor.

“Happy mother’s day, mama.” She pulls at your cheeks, pinching them. “I love you.”

You try your best to smile at her given the circumstances and she giggles at your expression. She sits back beside you and Heeseung clears his throat. You see the turmoil in his eyes and pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“Dahlia,” Heeseung says. Your daughter looks up at him curiously. “You can’t kiss mama on the lips.”

You snort at his seriousness and immediately bite back your grin when he throws you a look. You say nothing as you gently pat your stomach and pick up a piece of bacon, taking a large bite.

Dahlia frowns and tilts her head in the same endearing way that Heeseung does. “Why not? You kiss mama on the lips.”

Heeseung’s frown deepens. “Yes, but I am her husband. You’re her daughter.”

“So?”

Heeseung blanks. She looks so much like you as she stares at him with narrowed eyes. He almost questions his entire argument when her eyes twinkle. He loves her so much.

“So… don’t kiss her on the lips.”

You want to laugh at his weak argument but he shoves a piece of banana into your mouth before you can.

“Where can I kiss mama then?”

Before Heeseung can answer, you softly grab Dahlia’s chin and turn her head towards you, afraid that your husband will start something he won’t be able to finish. As her eyes meet yours, they immediately soften and her defiance melts away. Heeseung scoffs under his breath.

“You can kiss me anywhere except my lips. Okay, pretty flower?”

Dahlia doesn’t even argue as she nods, accepting your words without a hitch. Heeseung laughs in disbelief as you cut a small piece of a waffle and bring it to Dahlia’s lips. She swallows eagerly and you ruffle her hair.

You three sit in comfortable silence for a bit as you eat the food that your husband and daughter have made, feeding them as well. After a few bites, Heeseung shakes his head and simply watches as you and Dahlia eat. Syrup spills down your lips and he wipes it away with his thumb, staring darkly at you as he sucks on his finger.

He rests his hand on your belly and smiles when he feels the baby kick. He shifts closer, his heart swelling in content.

“He’s kicking pretty early in the morning,” you say, pulling Heeseung out of his daze.

Heeseung nods and begins rubbing your belly. You watch him, enamored. Ever since your first pregnancy, Heeseung had a habit of just touching you. His hand was always on your stomach or he was rubbing your back.

“Can I go watch Cocomelon?”

Heeseung blinks at Dahlia and he knows you’re about to refuse, but he wants to have you to himself. You look so beautiful, so enticing, and he wants to show his appreciation for you in another way.

He usually can’t help himself around you, but when you’re pregnant, he loses all control. You look so ethereal as you glow, your body filling out to support another life. He was obsessed with how your belly swelled, carrying his child.

You were already bewitching to him, but now you were divine. If anyone asked him who he prayed to, he would say your name with such care, such grace. You were making him a father again, who else could he thank besides you?

“Sure, sweetness.” He says. “Go ahead.”

Dahlia kisses your arm and then kisses your stomach before she kisses Heeseung’s nose. You both watch her quietly as she slides off the bed and waddles out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

You swallow and stare up at Heeseung, smiling softly at him. He moves the tray of food on the other side of you and shifts closer. His arms are on either side of you and he stares down at you like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen.

“Good morning, baby.”

You laugh and lean back into the headboard. “Morning, Seung.” You lift your hand and cup his cheek, smiling softly when he leans into your touch.

“How are you this fine morning, beautiful?”

There’s a glint in his eyes but you can see the curiosity swimming in them as well. He wants to make sure you’re okay. That you aren’t uncomfortable, that the baby hasn’t been bothering you. He’s always thinking about you. Well, you, the baby boy you’re carrying, and his baby girl.

“I’m doing amazing,” you tell him, honestly. “Seriously. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“This is nothing,” he tells you. “You should have heard some of Dahlia’s ideas. She’s just as imaginative as you.” You grin at his teasing but then his eyes soften and he laces your hands together. “You know I’d give you the world, mamas.”

You squeeze his hand three times, unable to respond. When Dahlia was born, Heeseung began calling you ‘mama’ so she would pick it up. Whenever he said it around her, it warmed your heart.

When he said it like this, all low and enticingly, it made your insides flip inside out. It was different, because when he said it like this, it was like he wanted to make you a mama, again.

“I know,” you whisper. You bring his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles.

Heeseung wants to do unspeakable things to you but he glances at the plate and realizes you haven’t eaten enough. He leans forward and presses his lips softly against yours, humming at the sweetness of the syrup and the savoury flavour of the bacon on your lips.

He pulls away too soon and pulls the tray closer to you. He leans back and you watch as he cuts a piece of waffle and bacon, making a proper bite before lifting it to your lips. You blink at him and he parts his lips. “Say ah, baby.”

You roll your eyes but let him feed you anyways. Heeseung smiles at you when you chew slowly, glad that your nausea hasn’t been acting up. He was a bit anxious about it but Dahlia had been very insistent and he was a weak man.

Heeseung makes another bite for you and like the obedient little wife you are, you open your mouth. A bit of syrup spills from the waffle and drips down your collarbones. Before you could even think of wiping it, Heeseung leans down and licks it off your skin.

You shiver when his tongue makes contact with your cool skin. He licks the sticky syrup from your body and then presses open mouth kisses to your collarbones. You sigh, eyes shutting, as Heeseung licks and sucks your skin.

His kisses travel up your neck, nibbling and biting. He presses a wet kiss to your jaw and pulls away, eyes ablaze. You’re slightly panting as you squeeze your thighs shut. Heeseung tilts his head and brushes his nose against yours. Your hands are on his shoulders, running up and down his bare chest.

“Seung, aren’t you hungry?” You’re slightly out of breath, and his closeness isn’t helping. You can’t help but feel a little guilty. He woke up early to make you breakfast and he has yet to eat anything.

Heeseung shakes his head and his lips curve upwards into a menacing smirk. “I just want you.”

You hear the double meaning in his voice, you can feel it against your skin with the way he was looking at you. He made you feel beautiful, like the stretching of your skin and swollen feet meant nothing to him.

“You have me.”

Heeseung’s lips hover above your own. “Any way I want?”

You tilt your chin upwards and press your lips against his in a short kiss. “However you want.”

Grinning, Heeseung pushes himself back and stands up. You blink at his sudden movements and watch as he lifts the tray and table. He folds the table and sets it against the wall and then makes his way to the door.

He turns back to you and grins at you in a way that reminds you of high school and janitor closets. “I hope you’re ready, baby.” You watch him leave your bedroom with heated eyes, instantly shifting further on the bed.

Heeseung walks down the hallway and into the kitchen. He sets the tray down on the counter and fills a pink sippy cup with water. Twisting the lit on, he quietly walks into the family room, eyes falling on his daughter laying on her stomach on the couch.

“Dahlia, flower, you shouldn’t lay on your stomach.” At her father’s voice, Dahlia instantly sits up and smiles brightly at him. She sits properly and pats the seat next to her.

“Papa, sit with me.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften and he feels a little guilty, but his wife is waiting patiently for him in bed so he doesn’t dwell on the guilt for too long. He kisses Dahlia on the head and hands her the cup. Instantly, she brings the chewed straw to her lips.

“Sorry, sweetness. Mama isn’t feeling too well so I’m gonna lay with her for a bit, okay?” Heeseung winces as Dahlia’s eyes widen in concern and before she could bolt down the hall, he pinches her cheek. “She ate too much and now she wants to nap. You know she has to nap, right?”

Dahlia nods, water dripping from her chin. “Cuz of the baby, right?”

Heesueng nods, a surge of love making his heart swell. “Exactly. And you’re not a baby anymore, right?”

Instantly, Dahlia shakes her head, almost looking offended at such accusations. “No! I’m a big girl.”

Heeseung scoops her up and laughs when she giggles, fauxing thrashing her arms. He nuzzles his nose into her stomach, heart content as she laughs loudly. “You are a big girl now, flower. Which means you’ll knock and only enter when we give permission, right?”

Still laughing, Dahlia nods aggressively. Confident in himself and her, he kisses her entire face before setting her back down on the couch. As the next Cocomelon song plays, Dahlia loses interest in her father.

Heeseung stares down at her for a few seconds before slipping away. He doesn’t know how he got here. He’s not sure who he saved in his past life, but he’s grateful for it. He never would have thought that he’d be this happy and content, but he’s immensely thankful.

He quietly twists the door open and slips into the bedroom, locking the door. At the sound, you look up from your phone, instantly setting it down. Heeseung leans against the door, staring at you. You look so heavenly, laying there just waiting to be ravished by him.

You feel small under his eyes and given the circumstances, it’s ironic. He stands there in nothing but blue shorts and yet, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His hair is all tousled and he looks delicious.

Slowly, Heeseung walks towards you. His eyes are dark with something familiar and you can feel the heat of his gaze affect you. You watch with shallow breaths as he reaches the foot of your shared bed. He falls onto the mattress and crawls to you, tongue sliding across his bottom lip.

When he reaches you, he slots his leg between yours and settles his arms on either side of you. His breathing is almost as erratic as yours and you waste no time as you pull him into a heated kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

Your lips pressed against his as you kissed him roughly, tired of the soft and safe kisses you both had shared the entire morning. Heeseung tilts his head and further deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Tongues, teeth, and lips crash together in perfect harmony.

Heeseung’s knee rubs against your bare core as he presses himself further into you. Your hands travel up and down his back before you run a hand through his hair, pulling the long strands unconsciously.

Heeseung moans into the kiss and you swallow it, tracing his bottom lip with your tongue. He kisses you roughly before pulling away, immediately kissing down your jaw to your neck. His teeth graze your skin as he nibbles and sucks, and your head falls back, giving him more access.

With perfected practice, he kisses down your body. He shifts himself slightly back as he kisses down your clothed breasts, sucking and biting through the flimsy material. You whimper when his tongue pokes and prods your sensitive nipples. He quickly unbuttons your gown and kisses your exposed breasts, tongue swirling against your hardened nipples.

He kisses down your stomach, gentle as continues to unbutton your gown. He covers your entire covered belly with kisses and soft praises. He continues downward and unbuttons the last few buttons, leaving you bare and exposed to him. “So fucking pretty,” he mumbles.

You look so beautiful like this he almost can’t take it. Instead, he kisses down your stomach until he’s reached your pussy. He lays on his stomach and looks up at you. You can only see him because you’re propped up on the headboard, but the sight of your husband between your legs isn't one you want to ever miss.

Gently, Heeseung lifts each of your legs and places them a bit farther, forcing you to open yourself for him. He leans in and presses his nose against your cunt. Your hips jerk upwards at the feeling of him nosing your clit but he holds them down.

“So wet, baby,” he mumbles. He rubs his nose further into you, making you moan at the feeling. “Such a naughty girl,” he grins as he brings his hand to your pussy, rubbing your arousal all over your clit. You can barely breathe at the feeling of his nose and fingers. “Getting so wet while your baby girl is down the hall.” You whimper when he kisses your clit. “My dirty mama.”

Before you could say anything, he starts to plant wet, open-mouthed kisses along your thigh, alternating between nibbling and sucking on the tender flesh before tracing a wet path down your thigh to your dripping center. Your fingers weave into his hair as he eagerly explores you.

A moan escapes Heeseung's lips as he delves his tongue inside. Your body arches in response, teeth sinking into your lip to stifle the nearly escaping cry. His nose nudges against your swollen folds while his tongue expertly works its magic within you. A low hum reverberates through him as he licks and laps, sending delicious shivers down your spine.

Heeseung groans when you tug on his hair, his name slipping quietly from your lips in hurried breaths. The taste of you is perfect, and he can't seem to get enough. Sucking on your sensitive clit, he presses his nose deep within you, grinning against your cunt when you let out a loud cry.

“Heeseung,” you breathe. Your hands grip his hair tightly and when you pull, pushing him further into your pussy, he groans and the sound makes your legs shake.

As he fucked his tongue into you, sucking and slurping, he coated three of his fingers in your slick before plunging them in. You try your best to stifle your cry as your cunt sucks his fingers in. Your nerves are on fire and your mind is hazy with pleasure.

Heeseung matches the pace of his tongue with his fingers and he releases a quiet whimper when you try to close your legs, slightly suffocating him. With his other hand, he pushes at your thigh, gripping tightly.

“Fuck, fuck, Seung– fuck.” You’re panting, sweaty as pleasure overwhelms you. “I’m gonna cum–”

Heeseung doesn’t need the warning because he knows. He can feel it in the way you’re sucking him in, the way your legs are shaking as your slick gushes out of you and into his mouth. Pregnancy changed the way you tasted and he loved it, enough to claim being an addict.

The building of pleasure snapped inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and fucked his fingers into you. You sobbed out his name, clenching your eyes shut as your nerves lit on fire and your vision went white.

The bottom half of his face was shiny with your cum and slick as he continued to lick at you, his tongue working its way from your entrance all the way to your clit. He never wanted your orgasm to end.

You bit into your hand to muffle another scream as Heeseung kept pushing his fingers inside you, pushing your cum back into your sopping hole. Your knees weakened as he kept lapping all your juices. You could feel your core tighten again until another release washed through you, making you moan and whimper louder.

Heeseung licked you clean, swallowing the second orgasm swifter than the first. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and pushed his tongue in, lapping up everything your cunt had to offer.

You breathed heavily as you tried to regain any sense of control back into your legs. Slowly, Heeseung sat up and licked his fingers clean, staring at you fervently as he did. Your pussy throbbed at the sight and loss of him, and you quietly whimpered out his name.

“You did so good for me, mama.” He crawled towards you and kissed you, tongue brushing against yours, letting you taste yourself. You hummed into his mouth and he swallowed it, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing.

He pulled away and looked down at you. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and he kissed your eyelids. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, hidden deep within the arousal and he made a decision.

Heeseung fell on the bed beside you, panting. You slightly turned towards him and he looked at you lovingly, a dazed smile on his lips. You both laid side-by-side. “How are you feeling, baby?”

You snickered, a bit out of it still. “Like I’ve just cummed twice.”

Heeseung grins at you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Are you okay to keep going?”

You blink at him. “I’m pregnant, Seung. Not terminally ill.” At his unimpressed look, you snort. “Yes, I’m okay.” Heeseung continues to stare at you and you sigh, admitting defeat. “Fine. I’m a little tired.”

Heeseung nods in understanding and gestures for you to sit up and you do. He takes your pillow and fluffs it before motioning you to lay down. You follow his instructions and sigh in relief as the pressure is off your back.

You blink up at your husband. “Do me a favour and listen to me blindly for the next two minutes.” Instantly, Heeseung nods as he lays beside you, sweaty and beautiful. You eye his bulge and lick your lips.

You turn so your back faces Heeseung and he watches and waits patiently. Once you’re comfortable on your side, you slightly turn your head. “Lay on your side, Seungie. Close to me,” you say.

Heeseung does exactly that. He fluffs his pillow before laying on his side, arm immediately around your waist as his chest presses into your back. You smile at him and he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“What now, baby?”

“Now you fuck me silly.”

Heeseung grins at your words as he nips at your neck. “You’re sure, Y/n?”

You nod. “Yes. Please, Seung. I need you in me.”

Heeseung presses an open mouthed kiss to the crevice of your shoulder and he pulls his throbbing cock out of his shorts. He lifts one of your legs and sets it on his own, rubbing his dick against your cunt, coating it in your slick. You hold your breath as he pushes the head slowly inside, moaning out his name as your pussy sucks him in.

You were a bit tighter than usual during pregnancy and it drove Heeseung fucking insane. He squeezes one of your breasts, playing with your nipple as he pushes his cock slowly inside you, bottoming out.

You moan at the stretch and fullness you feel, arching your back a bit so your ass presses flush against his hips. Heeseung begins slowly rocking his hips against you, sliding his dick in and out of you at the most delicious pace. “That’s it, mamas. Suck me in, just like that.”

“Hee,” you whimpered.

Heeseung continued to fuck you slowly, one of his hands holding your leg and the other plates with your breasts before travelling down your body and circling your clit. His pace increased and his fingers quickened. Before you could cry out, he shoved the same fingers into your mouth, making you gag on them.

“Quiet, baby.” His voice sent chills down your spine. “Dahlia is right outside. You don’t want her to know how dirty mama truly is, do you?” At his words, your walls fluttered around his cock and he hissed. “You like that? Huh, baby?” He fucked you harder as your tongue swirled around his fingers.

His cock twitched and he could feel that you were close. “Cum for me, mamas. Cum all over my cock like the dirty girl you are.”

Your cries echoed through the room as you climaxed, your cum coating his cock as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure. Your body convulsed uncontrollably, your inner walls gripping him with a fierce intensity. Heeseung's own moans mingled with yours as he bit down on your neck, releasing himself within you.

He emptied himself into you, the sound of his release mixing with your own juices, creating a symphony of ecstasy. With each thrust, he filled you completely, his gaze transfixed on the mesmerizing sight of his cock disappearing into your warmth.

Amidst your incoherent babbling, Heeseung continued to pump into you, utterly lost in the depths of your being. His movements were relentless, driven by a primal urge he couldn't deny. Tears streamed down your cheeks, a mixture of overstimulation and raw emotion overwhelming your senses.

As the final drops of his cum dripped into your core, he gradually slowed his pace, pressing tender kisses to your neck and shoulders. Ever so gently, Heeseung moves to pull out of you but your hand on his waist stops you. Pushing himself further into you, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush against his back.

You both pant heavily, trying to regain your composure. It doesn’t help that he’s still inside you, but you can’t stomach the loss of him either. You feel so complete when his cock is buried in you and even though your vision is blurry, you love it.

Heeseung presses a gentle kiss to your neck. “You alright, baby?”

You close your eyes. “Mhm. I love you.”

Heeseung laughs and buries his face in your hair. “I love you too, Y/n.” He smiles against your skin. “I’m going to get a bath started for you.” Your nails dig deeper into his skin and he grins.

“In a bit,” you mumble. Your eyes are drooping and you know that you should probably check on your daughter soon, but everything inside you is pulling you to sleep.

Heeseung can tell you’re falling asleep. The tightness in your shoulders has melted and your breathing is slightly shallow and even. He holds you tightly as you succumb to the darkness. He waits a bit, until you’re snoring, to quietly pull out of you.

He bites his bottom lip to suppress his hisses as your warm cunt practically sucks him in but he refrains. He fixes his shorts and slides out of bed, grabbing a fresh wash cloth to wipe you down. He cleans you as best as he can and buttons your nightgown.

He sits at the edge of the bed and stares down at your soft sleeping face. You look so content and freshly fucked, it’s one of his favourite looks on you. “Happy mother’s day, mamas.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and goes to the bathroom to clean himself.

Then, once he’s clean, he walks out of the bedroom and into the family room. His eyes zone in on Daliah’s sleeping body and he coos, scooping her into his arms. He brings his baby girl into the master bedroom and decides that a nap in their bed wouldn’t hurt.

He slides back into bed and lays Daliah on his chest. One of his arms wraps protectively around her sleeping body and she tucks her little face into his neck. Naturally, seeking his warmth, you turn in your sleep.

With his wife on one side and his daughter on his chest, he lays a hand on her pregnant belly.

This is all he’s ever wanted. A little, loving family.

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