#god. my stomach hurts with the ache of this game

[two-hands-toward-the-sun]

i sealed atlantis and defeated the cult both in the same day. suffice to say, i am extremely unwell

[sheepston]

Man today fucking sucks

[titaswrld]

seventy-six percent

description: your boyfriend hasn’t fucked you in weeks and you’re tired of it, your best friend fred helps you get laid!

paring: theodore nott x fem! reader fred weasley x reader platonic!

contains: smut! 18+, minors dni, mentions of alcohol, sex, p in v

w.c: 1.1k

|an: came up w this idea last night and i luv luv luv it! hope u guys do too.

“cmon, fred, please? it’s been weeks. i’d do it for you, you know?" you’d said to your best friend, fred weasley, during lunch. it has been weeks since your boyfriend last fucked you. you don’t know why or what’s gone wrong. but you were convinced it was some sick game he was playing. he wouldn’t encourage your sexual behaviors, nor initiate anything, and you were fed up.

although, now that you really think about it, it might’ve been your fault, considering the last pillow talk session you and theo had, you told him jokingly that you’d probably last longer than him without sex.

you lied.

you’re growing desperate. you tried to ease the ache in your lower stomach by attempting to please yourself, but it’s not the same; it’s not him. you can’t put up.

“you’re absolutely nuts if you think i’m going to purposefully make theodore nott jealous. do you want me dead? is that what this is?!” fred exclaimed with a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “you think you know a gal,” he tutted, shaking his head.

you’d pressed your lips into a thin line, reaching into your head to find something that would make fred fold. “i’ll do your homework for a week? two? brew the potions for yours and george’s pranks? "c'mon freddie, be reasonable here.” you’d said with a pout.

“how about covering the cost of my funeral?” he’d deadpanned with a slight smirk. ugh, you’d thought. i guess i’ll have to…

“fine! i’ll do yours and george’s homework for a month so you can work on products. and make sure theo doesn’t do anything rash.” you exclaimed, god, your social life is going to be over, but at least you’ll finally get some dick.

fred’s lips tugged into a wicked grin. "sounds absolutely perfect. see you tonight. pleasure doing business with you, by the way!” he yelled out to you, already walking away, to go grab george and tell him the great news.

you’d sighed, hands holding your head from faceplanting into the hardwood table. it’ll be worth it, you told yourself.

this might, hands down. be the best you’ve ever looked in your life. your low-rise jean mini skirt hugged your hips and thighs perfectly. black long sleeve fitted crop top outlining your breasts and showing just the right amount of stomach, and black knee-high boots covering your calves. you looked to die for.

you do have to admit that you are a little nervous, though. fred and theo are both very unpredictable people. you had just hoped that fred wouldn’t cross the line too much and that theo would do nothing more than drag you up to his dorm and fuck you. considering this is a slytherin party, your chances of this outcome were maybe seventy-six percent?, which is good enough for you!

after overthinking and shuffling through every possible outcome, you finally stepped out of your dorm to meet fred in the common room so you could make your way to the slytherin common room together.

fred took a bow, as if you were queen lizzie herself, and offered you a hand to lead you down the last two steps of the staircase.

“madam?” he’d said in a posh voice, causing you to let out a laugh and take his hand to walk down the last of the steps. as you reached the bottom, he dropped the act and let out a laugh.

“no, but really. you do look good. i’d say there’s a great probability you’re getting laid tonight, with my help especially.” he’d said playfully and nudged you as you both exited the common room together.

“a girl can hope!” you’d whispered, now sneaking around the hallways with him to reach the slytherin common room.

“this is ridiculous!” you whisper-yelled into fred’s ear over the loud music blaring over the common room. you both hadn’t seen theo once tonight, and you and fred have been all over each other all night. getting close, whispering in each other's ears, taking shots together, even dancing together—nothing. the party was now coming to a close, and you still haven’t seen theo.

“i know, you’d think he’d show his face by now, or kick my ass or something" fred responded with his hand placed on the small of your back to get you as close as possible to him, so he could hear you better, of course.

theo had seen everything. he leaned against the wall in front of you covered by dancing bodies. he was alone, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his hand practically crushing the cup full of alcohol he’d had since the party began. he had a sick feeling in his stomach; he couldn’t even try to take a sip of his alcohol; afraid it would give him the courage to stomp over there and beat fred weasley’s ass. he saw everything. the touches, whispers, and dancing. all of it, and now he stood over you, hand on your back, bodies pressed together, whispering into each other's ears over the loud music? that’s enough.

theo stomped his cigarette out, slammed his cup on a nearby table, and made his way over to you and fred.

“you’re coming with me,” he’d said under his breath, grabbing your arm and whisking you away from your friend. shocked, you’d said, and did nothing but let him take you upstairs. you hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell fred bye, but oh well. he’ll be just fine. he did his duty, and you’ll have to do yours too. at least it was a mission accomplished.

“fuck, theo.” you pleaded and moaned against his neck as he pounded into you at a rapid and unforgiving pace, the both of you slick with sweat as you'd been at it for hours.

“you like that? or would you rather have fred’s cock pounding into you like this? huh?” theo growled out as he pulled out, awaiting your response.

“no— no no theo baby please. just you, only you.” you’d babble, hating the feeling of emptiness he’d left you with.

theo plunged his cock back into your wet cunt, continuing his harsh pace and letting out a breathy laugh. “that’s what i thought.”

all you could manage to do was moan and tighten your grip on his shoulders as you both neared your climaxes.

you could feel your brain go absolutely numb as his pace never faltered. you’d managed to breathe out a "theo... im gonna—“

“cum, cara mia. on my cock, baby.” theo said between thrusts, his own release about to reach a close as his hips began to stutter.

“theo!” you’d screamed out as the tightness in your stomach snapped. the yell of his name that escaped your lips, pushing him over the edge as well.

god, now i have double the homework for a month. was your first post-orgasm thought..worth it. was your last as you drifted off to sleep in theos arms.

[ggumjjun]

# soobin + somnophilia !!

tw. dubcon somno, size kink, soobin’s crazy obsessed, innocence kink, pet names doll, sweetheart, pretty, basically dollification but somno lol… not my best but eh !! mdni !!

could’ve sworn soobin has no reason to have a dick this big. because for someone who sits in sweatpants in front of his computer when he comes home, the only logical explanation is he sat with his long legs spread too long and now he’s hung, heavy cock forming a soft bulge in his sweats when he’s not even aroused. god, when he’s hard? but it’s just the way soobin’s huge that he loves how small you seem n feel in comparison. and soobin’s addicted.

so maybe he spent the evening once again buried in games, only to get tired and come back to bed when his eyes ache and he’s a bit dizzy from so much blue light exposure because soobin forgot his proper protection glasses. it’s such a soobin problem, isn’t it, that he has an unfortunate secret that he’s more than aroused when he sees you sleep so peacefully, shouldn’t be that way, he knows it, but fuck, it’s just so pure. undisturbed, pretty legs peeking out from beneath the sheets because it’s a little warm, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in such a gentle, soft, sweet sight. and it doesn’t help that it’s his bed, his sheets, that you’re lying in, prettier than ever.

hey, soobin murmurs, just to see if you’ll react, if you’re awake. his weight dips the mattress slightly, but to no further acknowledgement, soobin’s hands cautiously reaching over to touch the exposed skin of your stomach, gently, slowly, pretty delicate soft skin beneath his fingertips. and as if you’re made of glass, ghosting over your skin as he reaches down to slowly tug away your panties to your ankles, a soft moan escaping his lips at the sight of your pretty, soft pussy tucked between your legs, as if just waiting so patiently for him, weren’t you?

and it’s so absolutely innocent the way quiet mumbles escape from your lips as his fingers brush over your folds, ‘s little risky if he were to fill you up right away, wouldn’t want to hurt you, would he? and fuck, you’re so soft, delicate, his fingers slipping past your folds, have to make you a little more prepared to take him, his darling, fingers slowly pumping into your pussy, curling gently, slowly, slicker and slicker with your arousal wetting his fingers and palm, thumb rubbing circles over your clit.

and it’s the way soobin feels so madly in love, so obsessively infatuated with just how perfectly pure you are, like a doll fit for him only, meant for him, designed for him, bringing his fingers to his lips for a taste of your arousal, warm and wet on his tongue as soobin savors you, god, it’s so deeply arousing to make a mess of you while you’re asleep, so unaware, so peaceful despite his sinful intentions, soobin’s addicted, like a pretty spring flower, sleep making you uncorrupted and pure.

ah— so pretty, soobin murmurs, his fingers tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, adoring, infatuated gaze in his eyes. and it’s all love, love that makes him feel so deeply aroused by your pure self, fingers pressing against your side to feel the soft skin, tip of his leaking cock brushing up against your folds, god, he feels like an obsessed sinner for his desires, soft swears slipping from his lips as he pushes in, biting on his plush bottom lip at the tight resistance of your warm walls, soaked but fuck, he’a just too big, isn’t he? and he can tell by the whimper slipping from your lips, feels a little different when you’re asleep, doesn’t it,,,

and waking up to pressure, a stretching pain as your eyelashes flutter, strained breathing against your skin to see soobin, slight rosy blush on skin as he moans in the crevice of your neck, your voice coming out in soft cries at the intrusion. s-soobin–nngh, it h-hurts! you gasp, confused and so sleepy, cause all you can think about is the way your lover is too big, stretching you open more than you can manage—sweetheart, soobin drawls, s’ perfect, can take it, his voice laced with adoration as he stares at the way his thick cock slowly, slowly pushes into your pussy, folds all wet n sucking him in gradually, so excruciatingly slow, so, so, so slow—

h-hurts, ‘s too b-big,’ you whimper, fingers finding his shoulders to try and resist a little, need him to slow down a bit, but soobin’s fingers take yours, lacing through and god, is he obsessed with your hands being smaller than his, fits so perfectly to hold your hand. i’ll… i’ll take care of it, soobin murmurs, just need you to be a good girl, ‘s good for me,,,

and god, does soobin feel so obsessed, his eyes unable to draw away from just how small you are but able to fit him,,, albeit with some force, but his pretty princess, stuffed full of him and all confused but letting him, aren’t you? there’s no need to pretend like you don’t want it, not with your soaking pussy clenching him tighter n tighter, not going to let him leave you without filling you up, hmm?

and quiet coos, soft reassurances, his pure, innocent darling, letting him do everything the way he loves, his doll to play and love whenever because you’re simply just so perfect for him, aren’t you? and fuck, glistening tears on your face, hurts but love is pain isn’t it? love overwhelms, love makes you cry, love makes him feel so alive, like he could live without being one with you, darling. and slow thrusts that make him fit, bulge in your tummy showing as he thrusts deep, eliciting weak, sobbing cries, your hand clenching his so tight because you need him, don’t you~? to make it all better, let him take care of you, soobin has it his way, but his way is just love.

and it’s fine, it’s love, it’s his everything to adore you when soobin fills you up with load after load of warm cum, going to make you his, make it show, mark you from inside out,,, and fuck, does he love making you his when you’re giving him those doll eyes, wet with tears and begging his name because you can’t live without him either now, can you~? cry for love, cry because he’s so in love, so madly infatuated with your pretty, pretty self. and as his warm seed spills down your thighs, wets the sheets, it’s never enough,,, after all,, there is a reason soobin could have such a big dick, isn’t there? meant to fill you up n knock you up, hmm? his small, darling, prettiest when you’re full of his cum and so vulnerable,,, soobin’s so in love with you, he could cry for love.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

GIRL YOUR NEW LEWIS STORY????? HELLO??? WHY ITS SO GOOD???PLS CONTINUE????

ask and you shall receive. ENJOYYYYYYY🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🎀🎀🎀🎀

ladies and gentlemen I present to you,

Pillowtalk

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

part 1 I

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Overstimulation, Light Slapping, Squirting,

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Once both Lewis and I found out that I was capable of squirting he’s been doing anything he can to get me to do it again.

He’s fucked me in so many positions trying to get me to squirt again. Missionary, Doggy, Cowgirl, Reserve Cowgirl, The Pretzel, I mean we’ve done it all and each orgasm wasn’t the one Lewis was hoping for.

“Lew, Puh-Please, I can’t take this anymore. I’m so sore” I whimpered against his lips, my thighs shaking with such force I looked like I was trying to win a twerk off.

“We’re not done until I pull another squirting orgasm from you darling” the look in Lewis’ eyes told me that he in fact was not lying and that he would actually stay here all night until he was able to pull another out of me.

We’d been in the Hot Seat position for the last almost 10 minutes and Lewis was hoping that this new position would be a game changer in terms of making me squirt again. The one hand that Lewis had resting flat against my stomach traveled down to my clit, rubbing harsh and fast circles around the already swollen and already overstimulated bud.

I honestly lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had today from the last 2 positions alone, imagine how many more Lewis is gonna pull out of me as he continues to to find what made me explode.

“You gonna tell me how I got you to squirt or are you really gonna make me fuck you every single way until I get that reaction again?”

I dont know how I did it, really, it just kinda happened. It couldn’t have been the overstimulation, I’ve been overstimulated I don’t know how many times in the last 45 minutes. Was it the handcuffs? Maybe, that had been the first time I’ve been handcuffed. Or was it the fact that I was helpless while Lewis provided himself his own pleasure?

“Mmm d’know”

“Or was it when I had you cuffed up and helpless?” a moan escapes past my lips “Do you want to try that again? Hmm, wanna get locked up again?” a breathless ‘yes’ escapes past my lips.

With that, Lewis recuffs my wrists to the handcuffs that he left hanging from the bed posts. A look of adoration and lust filled Lewis’ eyes as he stared at me. I was helpless, naked and aching for him. I watched as Lewis’ eyes raked my whole body before ultimately landing on my core and he watched as my pussy leaked for him in anticipation.

“I can see your pussy dripping for me. This must be what made you tick, you like being helpless” My pussy clenched around nothing. Something about his words did something to me. “I’m gonna eat you out again, okay princess” Lewis stared in my eyes, not moving a muscle until he got a response and my subtle nod was enough clarification for him.

Without warning Lewis licked a stripe up my slit, circling my clit before sliding down and into my whole. Lewis repeats this motion a few times before he places a soft kiss on my bud and stops. My hands instinctively go to push his head back down given that I was close to my 12th orgasm tonight, god knows how many more I can take before I actually die from pleasure.

“Don’t want me to stop, do you?” A muffled ‘no’ escapes my lips, the muffled noises I made quickly turned into a mess of moans as I feel 2 fingers insert me.

Lewis’ fingers are long and girthy enough to hurt for a second as they were thrusted into me. Lewis sets a decent pace as he leans up to kiss my lips

“Please, never stop. feels s’good” the second those words left my mouth Lewis did in fact stop. A whimper left my lips at the sudden loss of contact but Lewis quickly caught me up to speed on what was going on in his head.

“S’okay darling, I’m just grabbing some more stuff for us to have fun with.” I watched intently as he walked right back to the bed side table, opening the drawer pulling out a blindfold, vibrator and a cock ring. Walking back over to the bed Lewis quickly pulled the blindfold over my eyes, placing the cock ring on himself after setting it to a medium fast pace and placing the bigger vibrator on the highest setting, slowly placing light touches of my body with it as it send small electrical bolts all throughout my body.

Lewis first started off by placing the big vibrator against the skin under my collarbone and he watched as my body tensed at the feeling. He let it rest there for a second before slowly bringing it down to the valley between my breasts, slowly gliding it over one of my nipples while his mouth attached to the other, tongue circling around the bud of my nipple.

Having one of my senses taken from me meant that my others heightened. Lewis' touch sent me into a frenzy before losing my vision. Now? My god, I was gonna explode at any second due to the vibrating against my breasts. A pathetic string of moans and whimpers leave my lips as Lewis keeps sucking on my nipples, the hand that was previously circling the drags the vibrator down to my aching clit. The vibrations bringing me close to the orgasm Lewis left me hanging with and the way my body jolted, he knew I was close which prompted him to attack my pussy with his mouth.

Everything was too much for poor old oversensitive me. Too much pleasure, too much pain, my nerves were going into overdrive “Lewis, please. I’m gonna c-cum, fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkkk” my body shook with my 13th orgasm. This time, it was the squirting orgasm Lewis was begging for. When I started squirting, something snapped inside Lewis and he opened his mouth that was already by my pussy. He collected my pussy juices before spitting out some and swallowing the rest.

“Fuck, Darling. You taste s’good. I love every bit of you, mmmm.” Lewis murmured as he continues to work me through this high. His lips attack my pussy again as he murmurs more things about how good I taste and how he could never get enough of me. My body shook as my legs encase his head between them.

Lewis’ mouth attacking my pussy was brief because after a few laps of his tongue on my already sensitive clit, he grabs my thighs that were trapping him and forced them open before aggressively thrusting his rock hard and aching cock in me.

My hands instinctively reach for the blindfold so I can see him as he relentlessly fucks my pussy at such a pace I was sure the whole neighborhood knew we were fucking. The bed moves inch by inch with each thrust and squeak of the bed.

At this point I had tears streaming down my face, I was losing my voice by how much I was screaming out his name and moaning in pleasure, my body was littered with so many hickeys it looked like I was found in a huge pile of snow and had major frostbite.

I can tell Lewis is getting close to his orgasm by the way his hips faltered and the grip he had on my waist.

“Mmm let me see your pretty face as you cum again.” his one hand goes to reach for the keys to undo my cuffs “you like my cock buried deep inside you, don’t you?”

The second my hands were set free, I ripped off the blindfold and my body reached behind his to pull him closer to me.

“Harder Lew, fuckkk I’m gonna cum. fuck fuck please i’m cumming.” I squirted again. Harder this time. Lewis only lasted a few more thrusts before he spilled his cum inside of my cunt.

“Fuckkkk, mmm you feel s’good. such a slut for me, my beautiful baby.” Lewis fucked me through both of our highs before he plopped his body down on mine as we both tried to catch our breath, his cock still buried deep inside my pussy.

Lewis pulled out of me before he flipped me around so we were cuddling.

“goodnight beautiful, we have a LONG morning awaiting us”

taglist

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999

[malliluvs]

begging for attention

♡ ellie williams x f! bratty reader

♡ ellie has been ignoring you all week, and you're needy. after watching her lay down for a nap after an intense workout, you see it as your time to strike

18+!!

warnings!

teasing, edging, cursing, smoking, ellie being really rough and mean :( , oral r!receiving / giving, light spanking? , hair pulling, after care, mostly smut, kind of hardcore

word count: 1.7k

you watched from the side of the small at home gym ellie had created for herself in the garage. you fidgeted in your seat as you watched ellie workout. her breasts straining against the her shirt, and her ass looked so good in those tights.

you tried to distract yourself from the ever growing aching from your core. ellie hadn't touched you in almost a week now, and she refused to tell you why. you could always pleasure yourself, but her fingers were bigger than yours, and she knew all the right ways to make you crumble.

ellie's muscles stretched against the fabric of her compression shirt. with every bench press she did, she gritted her teeth. a low growl emanated from the depths of her throat, a bead of sweat ran down her chin.

you were so used to ellie spoiling you, getting you whatever you wanted and touching you whenever you asked. it was frustrated for her to suddenly rip it all away and give you the bare minimum.

you felt hurt, but when you yelled at her for it, a smirk adorned her face. that's when you knew...

... this was her game.

she wanted you to beg for her attention, but you wouldn't do that. no. you'd take it.

-

ellie laid down on your shared bed, laying in a bra and some jeans. after her workout, she just wanted to relax and get high. her arm rested on her inner thigh, her legs spread open on the bed. she took a drag from her blunt, blowing out the smoke, her head leaning against the headboard

you snuck up between her open legs, leaning against her inner thigh. ellie felt a smirk pull at her lips, but she held it in and continued to ignore you.

this pissed you off.

you gave her the best puppy dog eyes you could muster up, but ellie wouldn't even spare a glance at you. instead of saying anything, you started to unzip her pants. ellie raised an eyebrow, but instead of interfering she wanted to see where this was gonna go.

ellie grabbed her phone, taking another drag of her blunt before unlocking her phone, scrolling on it aimlessly.

you swallowed an annoyed growl, but you couldn't help the ache in your core that you had been shoving down since this morning. you pulled her pants down just enough, and pulled her panties to the side, kissing her clit.

ellie gritted her teeth a took a deep breath, intent on ignoring you.

you sucked on her clit gently, looking up at her facial expressions.

ellie let out a guttural growl, closing her eyes, she moved her hips against your mouth, trying to fight that feeling. you continued to tease her, she had to break soon.

eventually ellie let out a loud groan as she sat up, gripping you hair and pulling your face up to her level. you smirked.

you got your way.

"you're a fucking brat, a slutty one at that." she growled, before suddenly shoving your face into the mattress.

"put your ass up, bitch." she said in your ear, her voice guttural and filled with irritation. before you could even move she placed her large, calloused hand on your stomach, pushing it up, forcing you on your knees.

you let out a loud yelp when she smacked your ass.

"you wanted my fucking attention right? now you're gonna get it." she said, smacking your ass again. she roughly pulled down your bottoms and panties, leaving your soaking cunt on full display.

you felt a shiver run down your back, the cool air hitting your wet core.

"god... you've been begging for me to touch you all week." ellie laughed, her voice harsh and unsympathetic. "you're such a slut for me... i can't stand it." she said, holding your legs down as her tongue ran up and down your lips, collecting the slick you've accumulated.

you let out a desperate moan, your hands gripping the sheets under you as her tongue abused your desperate cunt, her tongue moving expertly, licking you in all the right spots to make you fall apart.

"els... fuck!" you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head.

ellie smirked, lightly sucking on your clit. "shut up and take it." use growled, the vibrations from her throaty voice sending your mind into overdrive. you could already felt your knees getting week, but ellies strong arms wrapped around your legs, spreading them so she could hit the deepest parts of you.

she stuck her tongue in your gaping hole, filling it with her longue, needy tongue, rubbing against the places you needed her the most. she rubbed your clit roughly with her hand, not interested in your own comfort.

you began to babble nonsense as your climax was approaching. ellie felt you tighten around her tongue, she knew you were close.

she pulled away, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you up to her chest. you let out a whine.

"els pl-"

"shut the fuck up." she cut you off, her voice harsh and demanding.

she wrapped her hand around your neck, gripping it, making breathing uncomfortable, but you felt your mind go dizzy from her touch.

"you wanna cum? hm?" ellie asked, a smirk playing at her lips.

you nodded frantically. "ellie please... need.. I need... to cum... els..." you begged, you felt your slick running down your inner thigh, you couldn't do it anymore. you needed her and you needed her now.

"should I let my princess cum? hm? you think you deserve?" she said, patronizingly. you felt like you wanted to cry, you needed her so bad but she was denying you.

"yes yes yes." you repeated. "i'll be good... i'll be so good." you promised, your eyes glossed over.

ellie chuckled, before her hand slid down to your needy core, sticking three fingers in without warning. you threw your head back, letting out a loud gasp. she thrusted her fingers in rapidly, barely giving you time to breath.

"yeah... you like that don't you? oh I bet you do you little slut. you want me to fuck you senseless huh? look at you, losing your pretty little mind already."

your head rested against her shoulder, your loud moans filling the room. her words just added to your pleasure. ellie looked into your eyes, watching them roll back in your head with satisfaction. when you finally came undone, she brought her soaked fingers and pressed then against your red, pouty lips.

you were too exhausted to care, she slide her fingers in, making you clean her fingers clean.

once you had finished, she pushed you onto the bed. your head hit the pillow under you, as you looked up at ellie. she grabbed a small box from under your bed, taking out her strap. she put it on, not losing eye contact with you

she positioned herself over you. she held your leg over your shoulder. she pushed it in, she didn't even let you have time to adjust to the new length, never mind recover from your previous orgasm before she started recklessly pounding into you.

you let out a choked sob.

"els!" you moaned, your mind going blank as she hit your sweet spot over and over again, your already overstimulated core ached in a painful pleasure. you begged for her to stop, but you begged for her to keep going.

you felt those familiar butterflies in your stomach as your second orgasm of the night arrived.

"ellie... im coming..." you cried. ellie put a hand over your mouth. "shut up, you come when I tell you to." she growled.

you nodded, you already felt the tears pricking at your eyes. the sound of skin clapping and your desperate whines for release were like music to ellies ears.

"beg for it."

your eyes widened, you opened your mouth, but you barely understood what she said, your mind went blank as you focused on not letting yourself cum just yet.

"aww... is my pretty girl being fucked too dumb to understand?" she gripped your hair. "beg. for. it. you wanna come? beg for it. before I fuck those pretty lips like the slut you are."

your vision blurred as you tried to listen to ellie. you couldn't take it anymore, as you felt yourself coming on her strap. your back arched and you threw your head back.

ellie looked at you, her eyes filled with rage. she pulled out, her strap soaked with your juices.

as your mind cleared up, you realized what you did.

"did you just fucking cum?" ellie said, her tone strict and demanding. she gripped your hair, pulling you up and sitting you down in front of her strap, the tip teasing your bottom lip.

"look up at me." ellie demanded.

you looked up at her. "im sorry ellie... I... I couldn't handle it-" suddenly you were cut off by her forcing you down on her strap.

the taste of your juices mixed with the plastic you so desperately missed the taste of entered your mouth as she roughly fucked your mouth.

"I can't fucking stand sluts like you." ellie said, biting her lip at the sight. "you're not even trying to deny me. you want me to fuck you like this, this is why you've been such a fucking bratty bitch all week."

with every thrust of her hips the tip of the strap hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. spit dribbled down your chin, the tears that threatened to fall before were on full display.

"oh... is my bitch crying?" ellie said, wiping your tears.

"maybe you'll think before fucking with me again." she said, before pulling out.

you gasped for air, clinging onto her thigh. she sat down next to you, wiping the spit off your abused lips before kissing you.

"Shh... it's okay baby." she said comfortingly, rubbing your back. "you okay?" she said, smiling at you.

you nodded, as she wiped away your tears, she brought you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up.

when she laid you back down on the bed, you ran her hands through your hair comfortingly, whispering praises in your ear.

"you did so well for me."

"god... you looked so pretty." she said, while peppering your face with kisses.

she wrapped her arms around you, as you two fell asleep.

one thing you knew.

you'd be doing this again.

-

(idk if this is good but I started laughing while making this bc imagine if you had a wig and ellie pulled your hair and it just came off)

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

TAGLIST (cont’d in reblogs): @millllenniawrites @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @killerrxger @niallsbunny @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @kamcrazy123 @wclverine

[shhhsecretsideblog]

#3, prenatal massage

Healing Hands

Great setting for this prompt! Thanks for the request, really hope you like it! And thanks to @gravid-transluna for being my beta 💜 Content: fpreg, inconvenient birth, clothing birth, unassisted. 2,652 words

Prompt: “I’ll be fine, it’s not like my waters have broken-”

“Look… My ankles are swollen; my back aches; my hips hurts; my boobs are sore; my bladder is being used as a punching bag and I’ve not seen my feet for weeks! I am going to get that massage.” Kate told her husband in no uncertain terms, standing by the front door and struggling to pull her coat around her large and low-hanging pregnant belly.

“Fine.” Tom sighed, resigned to his wife’s argument. “At least let me drive you, I can wait in reception and take you home afterwards.”

Kate had received a gift voucher for a prenatal massage from a friend at her baby shower. Unfortunately, with finishing her job and getting everything ready for their new arrival she’d completely forgotten about the voucher and was swiftly running out of time. She had been feeling practice contractions on and off all week but today she’d had quite a few and Tom was getting a bit nervous about the idea of Kate going out, convinced she was in labour.

As they walked to the car the mother-to-be felt the start of another cramp begin to tighten across her middle. Kate placed her hand on the side door of the car and took a deep breath releasing it slowly.

“Babe, you’re having contractions.” Tom warned, seeing his headstrong wife go unusually quiet. Again.

“They’re not real contractions.” Kate assured. “Anyway, I’ll be fine, it’s not like my waters have broken-” she paused, feeling suddenly… off and noticed the slightest dribble of liquid run down her inner thigh. For fucks sake.

“Kate? You okay?” Tom asked her over the roof of the car from where he stood at the open driver's side door.

Great timing baby, Kate thought with annoyance. She so desperately wanted that massage, with all the stress of painting and decorating the nursery, finishing her job before maternity leave, not to mention the burden of carrying around a 7lb baby wherever she went. She was really looking forward to having a nice 45 minutes of relaxation and calm.

“Hmm.. yeah fine. Just a kick.” Kate lied easily. She would be having that massage dammit, especially if she was about to spend the next god-knows how many hours labouring and birthing a child. She deserved to start off calm and relaxed before the chaos rained.

Kate pulled her coat under her bum as she sat down in the car, hoping the thick fabric would absorb the slight leaking from what she suspected was her waters beginning to break.

~•~

She didn’t have any more cramps… contractions in the car driving to the spa, and Kate was thankful and reassured. Perhaps it wasn’t her waters, or perhaps she was just in the very early stages of labour. There was no need to panic, or to tell Tom.

When she arrived at the spa for her appointment she was given a dressing down and was directed to the bathroom to change. “I’ll just wait here for you, hun.” Tom said, kissing her cheek and sitting down in a chair in reception, pulling out his phone to play games.

Kate had another cramp whilst changing out of her clothes. “Hoooo….” She breathed slowly through the rising wave of tightness. “Hooo… okay baby, I get the message. Just give your mum one hour to have this massage. I’m gonna need it if you’re on your way soon.” She affectionately rubbed the bare skin of her rounded stomach, standing in just her knickers as she braced through the pain.

Wrapped in the dressing gown, Kate met her massage therapist outside the treatment rooms and was led inside. It was dark, very low soft lighting, the smell of lavender was thick in the air and a soft instrumental sound played through the speakers in the ceiling. It was calm and tranquil and perfect. After a quick discussion and assessment form, Kate was briefly left alone to remove the dressing gown and lie herself down on the massage table, on her side beneath the provided towel. It took a bit of negotiating with her slow and heavy body, and it set off another cramp, but she was soon lying along the cushioned bench with a pillow between her legs and a soft fluffy towel draped over her semi-naked body.

Anita, the massage therapist, had wonderful healing hands, Kate thought as she closed her eyes and held her bump. Pressing and massaging all along her spine and hips, Anita’s nimble fingers worked their magic and helped soothe all the overworked and taxed muscles in Kate’s body which had been strained and put to the test during this pregnancy. With the gentle acoustic music and the aroma of oils and incense, Kate felt for the first time in a long time - truly relaxed. That is until the contractions ramped up.

In the darkened room Kate had no concept of time, but she found herself breathing heavily and it felt like she was bracing herself every few minutes for the next wave. A groan slipped out from her mouth during a particularly fierce one.

“Is the pressure okay?” Anita asked softly. “Harder? Softer?”

“Mmnhh… more pressure please.” Kate moaned. “On my hips…”

Anita continued her work, focussing on Kate’s hips and pressing into her lower back and the tops of her thighs, the fluffy towel draped across the parts of her body not being worked on. But the contractions kept coming - longer and stronger - and Kate gripped the towel which was covering her belly and breasts, squeezing it tight between her tensed fingers. Soon she was groaning again, longer this time.

“Are you alright?” Anita’s voice laced with concern for her heavily pregnant client.

“Yeah…oooff! Just some kicking and cramping. But I’m fine.” Katie schooled her face to a natural and relaxed expression. She knew her labour was progressing by the steady waves of pain that kept on hitting, but she could not handle the idea of moving or having to deal with these contractions without Anita’s magical hands pressing into all the right pressure points, making the pain bearable.

So she did the only thing she could… She kept quiet and kept breathing, letting the expert fingers of her massage therapist ease the pain of her advancing labour.

Half way through the appointment Anita had her change positions; first to lie on her other side so the masseuse could tackle Kate’s other hip and thigh; then the mother-to-be was moved to a padded chair where she was instructed to sit backwards on it, effectively straddling the cushioned seat and resting her forearms on the tall backrest. The movement was arduous and with it Kate became very aware of how low the baby had moved - practically sitting just behind her pubic bone. She was glad to be sitting wide-legged over the chair as she didn’t think her thighs could close now with how deep the baby was nestled.

Anita ran her expert hands up and down the length of Kate’s spine, her fingers sliding over her bare skin with the aid of the fragrant massage oils. “Mnnnhhh… lower…” Kate grit as yet another contraction twisted across her belly contorting it into a tight ball, the labouring woman desperate for Anita to press deep into her flaring hips to relieve the pain.

Somewhere deep within her an urgency was rising, Kate couldn’t work out where but the pressure was forceful, aggressive and overwhelming. She whimpered and moaned, the weight and fullness in her pelvis bubbling up closer and closer to boiling point.

“What’s wrong?” Anita asked, removing her hands from Kate’s body, fearing she had hurt the mother-to-be.

“Hoooo…. Don’t stop! Mnnnhhh…” Kate moaned heavily into the crook of her elbow, tiling her hips backwards towards the other woman chasing the healing hands, her belly squishing between her legs and resting on the cushioned chair.

Against Anita’s better judgement, she followed the instructions and continued pressing into the pregnant woman’s lower back and hips.

However, Kate’s moans could no longer be construed as noises of relief and relaxation; her whole body was tense and tight, her fingers gripping hard and white knuckling the back of the chair. The pains were coming every couple of minutes now - she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The pressure soon reached breaking point. Without instruction she felt all her internal muscles squeeze downward and she let out a deep and primal grunting sound.

Anita’s hands vanished in an instant. The masseuse said something but Kate couldn’t hear it; her sole focus was on the giant heavy mass sitting on her cervix and it needed to come out. Now. She gasped a breath and pushed, uncontrollably, too shocked to do anything other than follow her body’s instincts. Somewhere in her peripheral a door was opened and closed - she’d been left on her own, labouring and pushing, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. All that mattered was the baby's head that was starting to part her folds.

~•~

“Are you Tom?! Kate’s husband?!” A woman came rushing into reception looking as white as a sheet, seeing him and immediately making a beeline towards where he sat.

“Yeah? What’s wrong, where’s Kate?”

“I- I think your wife might be in labour.” Anita blurted out, breathless and panicked.

“Damn it.” Tom cursed, pocketing his phone and rising immediately to his feet. “Erm, okay, what’s happened, is she alright? What makes you think she’s in labour?”

“B-because… because I think she’s pushing…”

“What?!” Tim shouted, and the pair ran down the corridor towards the treatment rooms.

Tom’s heart was in his throat as he followed after the freaked-out massage therapist. Pushing! Surely she couldn’t be pushing, she was barely in labour when she went in. Tom tried to reason with his overactive thoughts that were jumping and leaping ahead to a whole host of problematic scenarios. Maybe the girl was mistaken, or just got scared at seeing a woman in labour.

Tom’s fears were soon realised as they approached the treatment room and even with the door shut the sounds of Kate groaning could be heard through the wood. He felt sick, she can’t be having the baby now, she just can’t. Jumping headfirst into the unknown, Tom nervously opened the door, stepped through, and at the sight before him his stomach fell to the floor.

Squatting the wrong way over the chair with her back to him, and wearing nothing but her underwear, his wife growled and moaned and strained. Oh my god she is pushing! Tom stood there for a beat, jaw hanging open, frozen at what he was seeing. But when he started to see the shape of something begin to bulge between her obscenely wide bent legs, the fabric over her crotch tenting as something slipped out and then retreated, Tom jumped into action.

“Holy shit!” Tom cursed before running over to his wife. “Oh my god Kate. Talk to me babe, what’s happening?” He wrapped an arm over her upper back and crouched beside the chair, trying to keep his voice calm yet loud enough to be heard over her animalistic grunting.

“Tom…. Mnghhhhh! It’s coming outtttt!!!” Kate cried and disappeared into another pushing grunt.

“Call an ambulance!” Tom shouted at the scared looking Anita. “—No, wait! Help me get her off this chair.”

“Babe,” he said softly to his wife, “listen to me. We need to move you, the baby is coming and I can’t help you like this.”

“Mnghhhhhh!!!! Can’t move!!!!!” Kate clawed at the back of the chair, standing up on wide legs straddling the seat, the baby crowning into her knickers.

“Hold on to me darling, that’s it.” Tom moved Kate’s shaking hands onto his shoulders so her weight was on him instead of the chair. He pulled the padded chair out from beneath Kate’s awkward squatted position, and with strength he didn’t know he possessed, casually tossed the furniture aside so he could stand directly in front of his labouring wife. “Are you alright standing Kate? Or do you want to move positions?”

“Hoooooo oh Tom… I can’t be having the baby here!” Kate mewled.

“We don’t have much of a choice hun.” Tom said with a smile, trying to be a reassuring face in this totally unexpected situation. Looking down he could see the obvious shape of the baby’s head pushed against her underwear. “I think the head is almost out sweetie. We need to get these off.”

Tom tried to shimmy Kate’s panties down while Anita ran off to call the ambulance. His wife was trembling from head to toe, he could feel the shudder of all her muscles beneath his hands as he tugged the underwear down past her hips but her stance was too wide to get them much further.

“Hold on sweetie, I’ve almost got them off.” Tom muttered, ignoring the painful clawing of his wife’s nails as she gripped his shoulders, focusing instead of making room for the emerging baby. Their baby.

“Mhhhhh— oh Tom!!! I need to pushhhhh— I’ve got to PUSHHHH!!!” Kate roared with the force of the contraction that pushed the baby further south, knees dipping to open her hips and make more room for the excruciatingly large shape that was barrelling through.

Tom stretched the fabric of her underwear as far as it would go, pulling it just beyond the apex of her thighs, managing to get his hands between the clothing and his wife. And he felt it, the soft and bloodied surface of their baby’s head stretching his wife wide open. He barely had time to awe at the miracle, his first contact with his child before the head slipped out fully into his palms. Kate sobbed with relief.

“Oh my god honey, the head’s out!” Tom couldn’t wipe the shock and happiness from his face as he held the baby’s crown. “Can you move your legs a little bit, Kate? Your undies are still on.” He said with a laugh.

Nodding, in shock and still catching her breath, Kate moved her legs and after her husband pulled them to her ankles she ungainly stepped out of them. It was the weirdest sensation, moving with a baby still half inside of you. Kate could feel the baby’s head brush against the tops of her thighs but also the kicks that still flexed in her womb. She placed an unsteady hand between her legs and felt her child’s newly born head.

“Hi… hi baby.” Kate murmured, breathing still laboured. “You just couldn’t wait for me to get that massage could you?”

Tom laughed, but then he saw something flash on Kate’s face, signalling a sudden change. “You okay?”

“Unghh…. Oh I think— I think— yup, here comes the shoulders…” Kate groaned and began to sink to her knees, Tom reacted quickly and kept her steady as she lowered to all fours. “Oh fuck!!! Mnghhhhh!!!!!!”

With Kate deep in the midst of the next contraction Tom scrambled on the floor to kneel behind her as the baby slipped further out. One shoulder, two shoulders, and then in a gush of fluid the body and legs shot out of Kate’s body and slipped into Tom’s hands.

“A girl! We have a girl darling!!” Tom blubbed as his daughter coughed her first breath and started crying. “Here she is!” Tom said, handing the newborn to his wife through her legs.

“Oh my god…” Kate sobbed, pulling her baby to her bare chest and rubbing her tiny little back gently. “Look at you… oh my god. You’re perfect.” The tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she stared in fascination at her baby.

Tom picked up a towel from the massage table and placed it around his wife and daughter. Kate looked up at him in shock, tearful, exhausted, unable to say anything but the obvious. “I had the baby.” She whispered. He knelt beside her and lovingly kissed his incredible wife. The paramedics arrived 15 minutes later.

[chelleztjs18]

The Scene (E.O)

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!ActressReader ; Rachel McAdams, Benedict Cumberbatch (Platonic)

Summary: Something unexpected happened while you were filming a movie with Lizzie which leads more things out of it.

Warning: None. Just some fluff.

A/n: Hello! I'm back. This fic is from two request that I combined together. This is a made up Kamar Taj scene is being filmed with Rachel McAdams and Benedict Cumberbatch in it. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies in the scene and golden globes part. Happy reading!

Here are the requests for this fic:

Main Masterlist

What’s better than playing a superhero role in the movie industry? Well, nothing can top the joy and the fun of filming in one of the Marvel movies with your beloved wife, Elizabeth Olsen. You and Lizzie have been married for five months now. It was a very small intimate wedding with family and close friends, just like how you and Lizzie wanted. There was no media nor paparazzi craziness. Both of you try to keep your relationships for two years and the wedding under the radar to enjoy and cherish each other more privately in between busy schedules.

“You did a great job, Lizzie. I can’t believe that you did that scene in one shot. That was pretty hard to do with all the wires and stuff.” Benedict compliments her as he takes a seat next to her, taking a break.

“Aww thanks, Ben. I was actually nervous. You know me with heights, never a fan of it.” Lizzie lets out her little laugh.

“Oh yeah, I see what you mean. They pull you up pretty high.I bet it can be uncomfortable sometimes, especially with your Scarlet Witch costume right now.” The Wizard cast responds.

“Sometimes but I love this costume. So, I won’t complain.” She laughs again after trying to let out a joke.

Lizzie and Benedict have a great time talking for a little while until she sees something that makes her stomach turn. Anger thundered through her. Her heart aches and she crumbles inside. All emotions mix up in a split second. Lizzie stands up furiously. She can’t believe what she just saw. Seeing Rachel kiss your lips and you don’t even do anything to avoid it, makes her want to get to you right away.

“Liz? Are you okay?” The British man asks confusedly after taking notice of Lizzie's displeased facial expression.

“Yeah. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” That was all Lizzie said shortly before she rushed her steps with her full Wanda’s costume and barged into the set where you and Rachel are.

“What’s going on here?” Lizzie asks in such anger. You and Rachel look at Lizzie in surprise that neither of you say anything for a few seconds.

The silence from the both of you upset Lizzie even more. Her glossy hurtful eyes look at you in disappointment as she continues telling you how she feels in gritted teeth slowly walking closer to you and Rachel. “After everything we’ve been through, this is what I get in return? Was it a game for you? And to think I would go through the ends of the world for you. Just explain to me why?!” she demands. Her voice gets shaky.

Rachel slowly moves to get to behind you, trying not to get involved between you and Lizzie. Noticing what Rachel is doing, you naturally take a stand in front of her. You were about to tackle everything she said but she didn’t let you. “How could you do this to me?” She added as she spread her palms then clenched them to fists with fury.

Then all of sudden, a familiar voice struck Lizzie’s attention. “Cut! That surprisingly fits perfectly!”

Lizzie quickly turns her head to where the voice came from. She came to realize what was actually going on. She looks at you, Rachel and surroundings. The filming crews are looking at the three of you. Sam, the director smiles satisfiedly.

Her cheeks slowly turn crimson. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I–I–I didn’t know that you were filming a scene. Oh my gosh.” She covers her face with her hands for a few seconds and then uncover it. She tries to laugh her embarrassment off. Her cheeks feel warmer from blushing.

“It’s okay but yes, love. I was filming a scene with Rachel.” You replied.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie. It was totally a professional kiss.” Rachel explains in a light joking tone to make your wife feel better.

“No. No, you are totally fine. I’m sorry. I-I just didn’t know that there’s a kissing scene.” Everybody in the room heard what she just said in awe.

“Yes, babe. I told you about it the other night, remember?” you explain yourself as you grab both of her hands to give her the reassurance and comfort she needs. Lizzie tries to recall. “Oooohh yeah. Gosh, I was probably distracted when I was cooking dinner. So embarass–”

You and Lizzie notice that Sam came to talk.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I totally forgot that there was a kissing scene and I got—” Lizzie awkwardly apologizes but Sam finishes her sentence.

“Jealous? First of all, it was cute. Second of all, it was a brilliant spontaneous scene! I love it. You should see your facial expression on the whole thing.”

“Oh yeah, I could see that, Sam. I thought the Scarlet Witch existed for real for that whole minute.” you joke more as you gently squeeze her hand as your way to let her know that you are with her to comfort her.

“Yeah, but I apologize for ruining the scene.”

“Oh no, you didn’t at all, Lizzie. As a matter of fact, I will change the script and we will use it in the movie. We just need to add some visual effects in it and it’s good to go.” Sam lays out his idea and plan in a thrill.

Hearing his plan, Lizzie’s face slowly shows some relief. “Oh, uh– wow. Okay.” The four of you laugh. “Okay, then. Let’s take a lunch break and we’ll continue in an hour?” Sam announced.

Everybody walks away to take their break but you grab Lizzie’s hand before she turns around. “Feel better, babe?” you try to make sure.

“It was so embarrassing but yes, I feel better.” She smiles then laughs.

“No, I meant that the kiss was just one of the scenes.”

“Uh-y-yes.” She admits and covers her face once again. You pull her hands away and look at her lovingly.

“I would never do that to you nor hurt you like that. I’m all yours I love you.” You kiss her forehead then look at her again.

“Aw. I love you too, y/n. Thank you.”

“You were cute and sexy at the same time when you get jealous though.” You tease her and both of you laugh.

“Oh yeah? Well, you better watch out.” She teases you back.

“Oh, really?” your lips form a teasing smirk. She playfully hits your arm and rolls her eyes.

“You are silly. Let’s go have lunch babe. I’m hungry after all that jealousy I felt.” she grabs your hand and walks with you.

“You are cute.” you follow where Lizzie leads you.

_____

It has been two weeks since the latest Marvel movie came out. It was a hit. People love you and Lizzie in it. You are happy with how positive the public's reaction was. There was a rumor going around that Lizzie improvised on the jealous Scarlet Witch scene after your character kisses Rachel’s. Neither you, Lizzie nor other casts know how the words spread. Lizzie is happy with the fact that people love your acting in the movies. That’s all that matters to her.

Today, you, Lizzie, Rachel and Benedict are invited to the Jimmy Fallon show to talk about the viral movie. Before you got to the location, both you and Lizzie had a talk and decided to be ready if Jimmy asked about your love life. You both think it’s time to let the cats out of the bag about your relationship.

“Welcome everybody! Wow, I feel so safe right now with some of the Marvel superheroes around us.” said the host followed by the cheer and applause from the thrilled audiences.

“Thank you for having us, Jimmy. So good to be back here.” Lizzie expresses her gratitude from where she sits next to the beautiful older actress, Rachel. You adore her beauty from the seat across from her as the dark haired actor next to you chimes in.

Everything went well and it was really fun for everybody. All the casts get their questions.The studio is filled with laughter and excitement.

“Okay, Y/n Y/LN. It’s your turn right now for questions.” Jimmy slightly turns his head to you.

“Oh lord.” you joke as you pretend to look nervous. The audiences and Jimmy laugh at your antics. “I love your character. You have a cool super power in it and as you know a lot of fans are simping your character with the one and only Scarlet Witch.” The crowd can’t hold back themselves with such thrill as soon as Jimmy mentioned the both of you.

You hear Lizzie’s lovely laugh and you glanced at her to see her smile.

“Ah yes, yes. I heard about it.” you respond as you shift the way you sit a little and smile.

“Let’s just go straight to everybody’s favorite scene after you kiss Rachel’s character.” Benedict and Rachel playfully do a hand gesture as if they are locking their mouth. Rachel even throws the imaginary key of the lock to you.

“What? What is it? Are we missing something?” puzzled with what he just saw, Jimmy asked. His gaze bouncing back and forth between the four of you.

“Oh no. Nothing. Nothing.” Benedict denies the question and laughs. Jimmy then looks at Rachel, hoping he will get an answer and Rachel pretends jokingly to look around with a smile.

“Ah, I see. We’ll get back to you two later.” Jimmy adds.

“So, back to you, Y/n.” Jimmy looks at you and with that he interviews you some questions regarding the movie. Three questions and some jokes later, you thought he was done asking you but you were wrong.

“As the newcomer in MCU, fans are dying to know about your current love —” Jimmy was interrupted by the cheering women fans in the studio. He smiles as he slightly lifts up his hand asking for some silence to continue.

You laugh as your cheek blush and you tap your hands gently multiple times on your thighs nervously. You and Lizzie knew sooner or later that this question would come.

“Are you seeing someone now?”

“As in dating or hallucinating?” Once more you joke around and everybody instantly laughs.

“Good one. Good one. Nice try on stalling to answer the question.” Jimmy responds humorously in between laughs.

You sneaked another quick glance to Lizzie then looked at Jimmy. “Well, I’m taken, married actually.” you finally answered and you subtly show the wedding ring on your ring finger and awkwardly laugh.

“Wait.. Wait.. Wait.. What?? When did this all happen? Last time you were here, you were single.” Jimmy exclaimed.

“Yes I was but now I’m happily married.” The audiences are in awe with your answer.

“Okay, okay. Congratulations! Wow. What an exciting surprise. Is your husband from the movie industry as well?” Jimmy asks curiously.

“Wife.” You corrected it with an excited smile. Surely, Jimmy looks surprised yet excited for you. A huge cloud of curiosity flows over Jimmy and all of the audiences instantly.

“Awww! Who is this lucky woman?” Jimmy asks and shortly after people start to chant “Who is she? Who is she?”

The four of you laugh. Rachel and Benedict try to keep their expression that they know the truth. Nobody notices that Lizzie looks at you and gives you a subtle small wink and you take that as your cue that it’s time to let people know.

“Okay. Okay. My wife is a very lovely woman. She is the sweetest so I’m the lucky one. We have been friends since the first time I came to this industry. She helps me and teaches what she knows in acting.”

“Oh?! So she is an actress?” Jimmy tries harder to dig more.

“Yes she is. Lizzie and I have been married for five months now.” In a split second, everybody in their seats cheers, applauses and goes crazy.

“Oh my god! I knew it! I knew it!” Jimmy exclaimed with a huge smile, raising his fists as if he just won a jackpot.

A few minutes later silence slowly covers up the cheerings.

“Okay, since the tea has been spilled, Lizzie, let’s switch seats so you can sit next to your wife.” Benedict stands up and gives up his seat to Lizzie. Everybody looks at you and Lizzie in awe as soon as she sits next to you and holds your hands.

Jimmy quickly connects the dots and asks one unexpected question.

“Wait, so does it mean that the improvised jealous Scarlet Witch was actually real?” An image of the scene shows up on the giant screen as Jimmy’s hand points at it. “I meant Wanda’s expression looks so real that I can even feel it when I watch it. Were you really jealous, Elizabeth?” he continues.

“Uh oh.” Benedict's short remark lures some laugh from you and Lizzie.

“Tell him, Lizzie.” Rachel joins in jokingly.

Lizzie laughs awkwardly, blush creeps up on her cheeks. “Oh my gosh. This was embarrassing. So, in my defense, I didn’t know— well actually I forgot that there was a kissing scene between Y/n and Rachel. I was just taking a break and chilling with Benedict then I saw them kissing, I didn’t know they were filming. So yeah and then that happened. Eeeeend scene.” Lizzie explained.

Jimmy lets out a pretend gasp and looks at Benedicts. “Why didn’t you stop her?” Everybody laughs.

“Oh I was just so puzzled because she just suddenly stood up, excused herself and told me she would be right back. I tried to stop her, I wish I had the time stone with me at that time.” The  dark haired man responded with some laughs.

“Rachel, you were hiding behind Y/n’s back.” Jimmy examines the giant picture.

“Yes, yes I was. To be honest, I was so bamboozled and my mind tried to think if Lizzie was really mad with me because I don’t want her to be mad at me or if it was just Wanda’s part in the scene. My mind starts to question in those short minutes if Wanda will push me with her wiggly woo in it because I have all the wire around me and I wasn’t ready if they were gonna do a sudden pull on me with them.” Rachel smiles at Lizzie and you.

Jimmy nods at Rachel’s answer then looks at you. “I was as confused as Rachel was but I tried to calm her down because I knew it was all a misunderstanding. Lizzie never really shows jealousy but I’m not gonna lie she actually looked so cute and adorable.”  You look at her in adoration and rub your thumb in the back of her hand. Lizzie gives you a smile back.

“Wow, I never knew behind that iconic scene was actually a funny moment. So Sam, the director, decided to use that scene for the movie?” Jimmy lets out his thoughts.

“Yes, he did.” Another shy laugh followed Lizzie’s answer. With that, the show continues with a little more questions and everything goes well.

You and Lizzie are happy with people’s positive reaction at the show about your relationship until some comments you read on social media a few days after.

_____

You and Lizzie are having a relaxing week before the Golden Globe award event this weekend. You are sitting in the backyard scrolling on the internet while Lizzie is doing her gardening vlog.

“Hi babe. What you doin’ there?” Lizzie asks as she grabs a glass of iced tea you made for her and sits next to you once she is done with her plants.

“Oh nothing. Jimmy’s show that we were in is up on the channel and internet. So I was just reading people’s comments.” you answer while your gaze is glued to the screen of your tablet.

“Oh? I hope they are all good comments?” she responds after a sip. “Hm yeah, they are.” you mindlessly answer but she notices your facial expression. You squint a little as you read more. Your eyebrow knitting together and your lips pressing in a straight line without even realizing it.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Lizzie’s tone sounds a little concerned.

“Ah nothing to be worried about, Liz. Some people are just funny with their comments and really need to find something else to do.” your hand did an air quote on the word funny and you laughed.

“What did you mean? What comment? Let me see.” Lizzie's curiosity takes over and she opens her palm, waiting for you to hand her the tablet.

“Just promise me, don’t worry about the comments and ignore them, okay, love. They really don’t bother me.” you subtly demand shortly before you let her read them.

“I can’t believe that Lizzie married Y/n Y/L/N. I hope it was just a lie.”

“Y/n is a new actress, she probably just wanted fame from being with Lizzie.”

“I think this whole thing was a skit to gain more fans attention, she probably lied about being married to Lizzie.”

“Even though IF it was true that they are married, she just uses Lizzie as her ride to fame. I’m sure as soon as she gets enough fame or movies, Y/n will leave her.”

The more she reads the comments, the more upset she looks. “I’m not happy with this, Y/n. We gotta do something about this.”

“No, I don’t think we have to do anything about it. I’m sure the comments will soon be old news and people will forget about it. I don’t really care what people say about me, Lizzie.” you express your point of view.

“I do. I will do something about it.”

“Wait, what are you going to do?”

“We’ll see. Don’t worry, darling. Everything is under control.” She kisses your cheeks and smiles, not giving you any clue what’s on her mind. You try to shrug it off and not to worry about it.

Few days later, there are more comments, both positive and negative about you and Lizzie’s. There are even videos in the media from the influencers or fans talking about them and going viral.

_____

Today is the Golden Globe award day. It’s the first big event since you got married. After hours of getting ready, you and Lizzie finally arrived at the venue. As soon as both of you got out of the car and walked to the red carpet spot, fans went all hyped up and so did the paparazzi and the media. You and Lizzie sometimes stop to sign some autographs.

You hear a bunch of voices calling Lizzie’s and your name. It’s your and Lizzie’s turn to be on the red carpet, camera flashes start to show up from every direction. Lizzie holds your hand as she poses with a smile and her eyes look at the camera.

The photographers caught some cute moments of you and Lizzie smiling at each other with the look of love.

Suddenly, Lizzie pulls you closer to her and kisses you on the lips to show the world how much she loves you and how happily married she is to you. She wanted to show all the internet trolls who said bad things about you to just mind their own business.

After the kiss, Lizzie smiles and says “I love you.” and without a doubt you say it back to her and it all caught on camera.

At the end of the red carpet, Lavern Cox is already waiting for you two to come and interview you.

“Oh my god, here comes the newlywed. One of the IT couples. Hi you guys. Both of you look amazing tonight!” She greets you and Lizzie.

“Hello, Lavern. Thank you. So glad to see you again.” you replied after you and Lizzie gave her friendly kiss on the cheeks.

“Me too, Y/n! Congratulations on the wedding! You both make a perfect couple and Lizzie, that kiss just now, I was in awe when I saw it. That was a pretty strong statement you made after things went viral about you two.” Lavern said shortly before she directed her microphone to Lizzie and you to respond.

You start with an awkward laugh. “I really didn’t expect the kiss, Lizzie always surprises me with her lovely and sweet gesture. I really appreciate her ways of showing her love and I’m really proud to show up as her wife tonight.” You can’t hold back a smile as soon as you are done saying your part and Lizzie takes her turn. Lizzie’s eyes are drinking the view of your smile in awe.

“Nice to see you again, Lavern. Thank you. It’s always nice to see our friends here and I think tonight is the perfect time for us to openly come out as being married to each other. I thank all the fans for their support and I would also like to tell some of the people who spread bad words or lies about Y/n to just leave her alone. We are happily married, we love each other sincerely. Y/n has been a great partner for me and she loves me for who I am. She could be famous even without me because she is a very talented actress and amazing person.” Her gentle smile looks totally opposite from her subtle firm tone as she expresses her thoughts towards the end of her statement.

“I couldn’t agree more with you, Lizzie. Wow, I love you so much for standing up for Y/n.” Lavern compliments her and continues with a few more questions about the outfits you and Lizzie wear tonight before the usher leads the two of you to the ballroom.

After having a little small talk with the others on the table, you gently hold Lizzie’s hand under the table and whisper to her “Thank you so much for standing up for me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Lizzie’s gaze gently locks on yours and she replies with a loving smile. “Of course, babe. Like I said, everything is under control.” she gives you a quick peck on your lips then tonight’s host starts the event.

Everybody had a great time. At the end of the night, the crowd cheers even more positively as you and Lizzie walk out.

A/n: Welp, that's all from me for today, peeps! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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[sweetsbfreex]

who loves you

summary: a four month long situationship with Ari goes south when you see a text you shouldn't have

pairing: college!hockey player!ari x situationship/fwb!reader

warnings: none?

-

Fuck. You felt refreshed and blissed out as you sat up and stretched. Watching Ari’s bare, fit body disappear into his bathroom. 

It always surprised you how he showers without his phone because that meant he showered with no music. You couldn’t imagine taking a shower without music, how else would you fulfill your popstar dreams. But alas, Ari was different from a lot of the guys you’ve previously been with. 

You drop back against his bed, smiling at the ache between your legs. Ari was a lot of things and a sex god was definitely one of them. 

The incessant buzzing from a phone..his phone jerks you from your blissed out state.

Bzz-bzz

Ignore. 

Bzz-bzz

Ignore.

Bzz-bzz

Okay, what the hell?

You grab his phone beside you, it comes to life when you lift it. 

Joy ;)

—Meet you in the parking lot after? My place?

—I’ll wear the special panties with your number on them

You squint as more texts roll in. Special panties? Her place? The fucking winky emoji by her name?

What. The. Fuck. 

You stare in disbelief for who knows how long, feeling a little hurt and naive. 

“Why is my phone in your hand?”

Ari stands at the end of his bed. A towel wrapped around his hips as he runs another through his shoulder length hair. Your eyes can’t really help to worship the droplets over his chest. 

“Who’s Joy?” You push out the question. 

You can see something change in Ari as he walks over and takes his phone from your grasp. “None of your business, why are you snooping around”

You scoff, “I wasn’t snooping! It kept buzzing and I thought it was an emergency or something. Who’s Joy?” you question again, annoyed at the way he’s avoiding your question. 

“I don’t appreciate you looking through my phone. And she’s none of your fucking buisness, so drop it”

You stare up at him, subconsciously lifting his sheet to cover your bare chest. 

“You’re having sex with other people?” you accuse, and deep down you're confident you know the answer, but that naive part of you is hoping it’s all a misunderstanding. 

“And if I am? We’re just fucking around too. Are we not?”

Your breath stutters at his admission. Although the two of you have never stated terms of this…relationship, his actions have always spoken louder than words. Everyone thought the two of you were together. Even though he’s never formally asked you to be his girlfriend, you always had an inkling that he would at some point.

Your stomach flips thinking of his protectiveness over you, the way he’d always pay if he was there, and the way he goes out of his way to check up on you after his practices. Or the way you’re always there for him at every game, his number and name on your back as you cheer him on. 

Shit, even the sex was anything unlike a pair of friends. It always felt intimate between the two of you. Your toothbrush stood next to his in his bathroom, and yours, for Christ sakes. 

“Are you being serious right now?”

Ari shrugs. Fucking shrugs at your question.

“Y/n, I don’t understand why you’re upset. In no way have I ever committed myself to you.”

That stings. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” You mutter, trying to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. 

“I don’t.” 

“Fuck you, Ari.” You seethe, dressing yourself with speed. “Have fun with Joy.” You tell him, buttoning your jeans, and gathering your shoes in your hand. Anything to get out of this humiliating scenario. 

You shove your way past Ari’s confused figure. Which stops you as he grabs your elbow, “I’m not understanding what the big deal is? You’re telling me you haven’t been sleeping around.” 

You remove your elbow from his grasp, “No. I haven’t. And if I did, I’d at least have the decency to let you know.” And with that, you’re out of the room. 

Ari stands there for at least a minute, disgruntled and confused with what the fuck just happened. He shakes his head trying to figure out whatever the fuck he was missing. 

-

“You’re a fucking idiot, a moron if you will. Maybe a dodo would fit better?—” Ransom laughs to himself as relaxes in his spot in the frats living room, snacking on his favorite biscuit cookies. 

“Ran,” Steve interrupts the way Ransom isn’t helping. Softly shaking his head in reprimandment. “Now isn’t the time.”

Ransom only shrugs, and looks back to the television. 

“I hate to say it, man. But Ransom is right, the only answer was in front of you the whole time.” Sam tosses in his opinion, clapping Ari on the back.

“Well what the fuck is it? Why is no one saying what I’m missing?”

“She likes you, Levinson.” Bucky answers, walking through the living room and out the door, his key to his motorcycle swirling around a finger. He didn’t need to know the full conversation to know what exactly was going on. He would’ve stayed to watch the aftermath, but he had a certain spicy redhead waiting for him at her apartment

Ari doesn’t mean to sound dramatic, but he quite literally feels the world tilt on its axis at the discovery. He’s admired you for a while, but never in his mind did he think he was the right guy for you. He’s seen the guys you’ve dated before and they were the complete opposite. 

Intelligent, brainy, in tons of clubs, they wouldn’t do stupid shit like fighting on ice skates because it’s fun. They were guys who any mother would love.

Fuck. He can’t believe this, there’s no way. 

“What—“ 

“Dude, you can’t be so blind, to not see how in love with you she basically is,” Ransom says around a mouth full of cookies. “The sex is probably great, but you think a chick like her is gonna wanna be around you without an ounce of admiration.” 

“I think what Ransom is trying to say is: there’s a lot of telling that y/n has feelings for you, and I’m pretty sure her getting offended that you’re sleeping with other people is a big one.” Steve says. 

“Fuck.” Ari groans, running his hand down his face and over his scruff.

“How would you feel if y/n told you she was screwing someone else?”  Sam asks. 

“Livid.” 

Sam snaps his finger pointing at the dark look already on Ari’s face. “There you go.” 

“Fuck. She’s not even answering my calls. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 

“Give her time to cool. If anything, maybe she’ll be at the game?” Steve offers.

“Maybe,” Ari mutters.

-

But you never picked up a single call and for some reason, even picked up that Ari thought of swinging by your apartment. You had texted him to leave you alone.

And then Saturday rolled around…

-

“How long have you been into hockey? I’d never take you up as a sports girl. Sorry that sounded terrible—“ 

“It’s okay, Jake.” You laugh. “Not until this year, you’re right I’m not really into sports at all. What about you?”

“I really got into it with my dad, we used to watch every game together if we could,” he smiles at the memories. 

“That’s really sweet,” you smile back, placing your hand over his. 

Jake Jensen is a computer science major you befriended over your French class last semester. But the both of you basically ran in the same social groups, leading to you guys staying friends. 

When talking about the upcoming game, you had let it slip that you passed the deadline to donate your ticket, and couldn’t find anyone to sell it to. Leaving you to go to the game alone or getting a strike. 

Jake was kind enough to let you join him. You would’ve joined Natasha and the others, but it felt too weird to you and you wanted no chance running into Ari. Especially since you weren’t wearing his jersey like you usually do. 

You haven’t spoken to him all week, minus the small text you sent, and you refused to. Even though he had tried non stop to run into you on campus. 

“Have you—“ Jake starts, but is interrupted by the commentators introducing the team. Everyone stood up and cheered at the sight of the school’s players. 

-

Ari skates out with a smile on his face, lifting a hand in the air as he waves and joins the line of his teammates. As he does so, he tries to find you, but it’s hard to distinguish you among the wave of people in the stadium. Especially since you weren’t seated in your undesignated-designated seat closer to the rink. 

But he shakes it off, putting himself in the right mindset for the game. 

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our favorite time of the night: THE KISS CAM!” 

Some players skate and others like Ari, watch the Jumbotron during the brief break.

The first is an elderly couple, then a pair of random strangers who kiss under the playful pressure, two pairs of students, parents with their children who dramatically gag. That makes everyone chuckle, including himself.

They go around the stadium one last and he cannot fucking believe it. His hand becomes around his stick.

He can feel his teammates staring at him in sympathy. But Ari cannot look away from the Jumbotron. 

The first thing he notices is your flustered smile, that you came to the game sans his jersey, and the most noticeable of all is the dork sitting next to you with his arm behind your seat, looking just as bashful.

He’s livid. You’ve been avoiding him all week, probably doing who knows what with this guy. 

-

“You know what you gotta do,” teases the commentator. You laugh behind the back of your hand. Jake sits beside you just as flustered, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb.

In no way is he against kissing Y/n, but he also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

“C’mon folks!”

You stare at Jake, shrugging a shoulder in question. Jake only smiles back before sitting up straighter. The both of you go to lean in. Your lips press softly against his until a loud smack of temper glass breaks it up. 

The two of you jolt away at the sound of a disgruntled voice. You look to see Ari, “hey!” His voice booms. “Back the fuck off my girl!” 

“What— who is he?” Jake’s eyebrows knit together as he points towards the enraged giant pointing a menacing finger towards him. 

“An asshole who doesn’t know what he wants.” You answer, shaking your head towards Ari before you place a kiss on Jake’s cheek. 

You watch as Ari stands behind the plexiglass. And even though you’re about eight rows back, you can see the confused and upset expression on his face. A pinch in his eyebrows and a pitiful glare in his eyes. 

“I’m really sorry about that, Jake.” 

“It’s nothing, don't worry.” He smiles, “Do you want popcorn or anything?”

“Sour patch kids, if that’s alright.”

“No problem.”

You look at anywhere but Ari during the rest of the brief intermission. 

-

Ari 🏒🦁

—Meet me outside the locker room

—Please?

You sigh as you grab your stuff. Just before the two of you reach outside the stadium, you gain Jake’s attention. 

“I’m really sorry to cut our hangout short, but I had a lot of fun. I just have to handle something really quickly.”

Jake tries not to show the disappointment on his face, “I’m gonna rightfully assume it has something to do with that ‘asshole who doesn’t know what he wants’?”

“Unfortunately,” you smile ruefully. 

“Okay,” he nods his head. “I hope everything goes well. I’ll see you around?” 

“Definitely,” you hug him before you make your way outside the doors of the locker rooms, with no trouble which you can guess is because of Ari. 

You smile awkwardly at the glances of Ari’s teammates. You hate that everyone has seen that happen and you assume most of his teammates know the intimate details of what’s gone down between you two. Which only adds another layer of unnecessary awkwardness. Time passes before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, looking up to see Steve at your side, a timid grin. 

“The locker is all cleared out, he’s in there waiting for you.” 

“Thanks, Steve.”

-

“Ari?” You walk in to him tying his sweatpants.

He turns around with a mournful look on his face. His sweatpants low enough that you can see the bands of his Calvin’s; he’s shirtless so his six pack is on display and glistening from his shower; his hair is disheveled, but the ends still curl at the ends; and he has a towel thrown over shoulder. 

You can ask any women how they could not be hung up on a guy as attractive as him. 

“Hey,” he sends a small smile, making his way towards you. 

“Wait—“ you interrupt, “We cannot have this conversation if you’re shirtless.”

He won’t argue, but he does as you’ve said and throws on some ratty t shirt in his locker. He sits on the bench in front of his locker, patting the spot next to you. 

You sit beside him, making sure to keep some distance between you two. 

“I see you’re not wearing your jersey?” 

The audacity of men will always surprise you.

“Your jersey and is that really the first thing you want to talk about?” 

“You’re right…” warily his hand grabs yours and when he sees you won’t retract from him, he brings it his plush lips. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. Seriously.”

“What you said Sunday was totally uncalled for and spiteful— and where do you get off announcing to practically the whole state that I'm your girl? And You embarrassed poor Jake for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothin’ and the douche will be fine.” He staggers at the fire in your eyes. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“That seems to be the only thing you can say,” you huff. You turn to him, needing to know the answer to this. “Are you really sleeping with other people?”

He notices how small your voice is as you ask. 

He sighs and looks down for a little, before tightening the grasp of your hand. “I was.” 

You stand up while trying to get Ari to let go of your hand. The last thing you want is for him to see the tears begging to fall. 

Ari stands with you in haste, bringing his other hand to palm your cheek as he looks down at you. Those piercing blue eyes saying so many things at once. “Was. I was. Listen, I haven’t slept with anyone else other than you since last month. It was a moment of weakness and you can’t be mad at me for it. We’ve never made anything official, baby.” 

“Do you even care about me? At all.” 

It feels vulnerable and desirous, but you’re unsure how you can continue without asking. 

“What? Did tonight not show you that?” 

You go to argue, but he cuts you off before you can start. 

Both his hands cup your face while his thumb draws circles on the apple of your cheekbones. 

“I love you.”

Your breath picks up at his admission. 

“It’s been months coming, but you gotta know since our first night together I haven’t slept with anyone other than Joy and that was only once. And I didn’t think I could tell you because.. I’m just not the guy you typically go for, Y/n. But I guess that was my own insecurities playing a part of that. I’m rambling and i probably sound like Steve after he takes one hit. But I promise I’ve admired you for so long and it has never been just sex to me. I don’t want my stupid mistake to get in the way of us trying correctly this time.” 

You swing your arm over the back of his neck and pull him in a kiss, your other hand fists his shirt. 

He lags at first before his brain catches up and he’s kissing you back harder. He tilts his head just a smidge like he always does and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head. You feel his other hand cup the side your body. His hand roams up and down before he’s slipping it behind you to squeeze your ass. You moan into him, pressing your body closer to him. 

Both your breaths pick up and you know you need a breather. So you pull away in a blur. 

“I love you too.”

He smiles at your admission. One of those adorable, rare smiles not many get to see from the broody man. 

You smack his arm and he grabs it with a questioning look. 

“But I’m still really pissed at you and I’m not letting you off easy.”

“Even if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He snakes his brawny arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he ducks to kiss your cheek. 

“Even then,” you giggle, turning his head for a kiss. “And that’s a yes.” 

-

a/n: it's been so long, hi!!! sorry i disappeared

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback 💗

[aimedis]

redacted asmr hcs pt. 7 - d.a.m.n crew edition

-ironically, damien can’t handle spicy food (and funnily enough, lasko can)

-damien used to wear huxley’s jacket to his games (afterwards, huxley would always find damien so he could give him the biggest hug ever)

-gavin and freelancer can have conversations without actually saying anything, just by making little faces at each other (not even through telepathy or demon magic, they're just that in tune with each other)

-freelancer has the cutest sneeze and the guys never fail to let them know 

-the d.a.m.n crew all collectively agree that freelancer is just the sweetest person ever (for freelancer's birthday, they all made a 50+ page detailed as fuck slideshow on why they were the best friend/partner ever) ((they cried a lot that day))

-damien hates the rain (not even because of his powers or anything he just genuinely does not like rainy weather)

-gavin quite literally being the embodiment of thinking with his dick 

-freelancer is always in gavin’s lap 

-freelancer and gavin have necklaces with the other’s initial/name on it (they're literally call it what you want by taylor swift)

-whenever lasko makes dirty jokes it’s always unintentional (in a ‘letting the intrusive thoughts win’ way) and he always acts shocked he said what he said afterwards ((he’s subconsciously learned to not have much of a filter around the d.a.m.n squad and it only got worse after being with dear))

-caelum rifts into gavin and freelancer’s bedroom and jumps on top of them to cuddle for a little (he loves falling asleep on freelancer’s chest)

-gavin knew the exact moment damien and huxley got together and was just silently proud of and happy for them 

-lasko and coworker as a hurricane & damien and huxley as a volcano

-gavin and freelancer spoil the other so much 

-the d.a.m.n squad have cuddle piles 

-freelancer is obsessed with mac and cheese (same) 

-coworker tells all their students to just call them by their name without miss/mister because it makes them feel hella old

-gavin and freelancer calling each other “bitch”

-freelancer was the first friend damien had to make him feel truly loved

-whenever lasko’s partner runs their fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly it puts him straight to sleep

-lasko and damien get into political debates (arguments about which of their favourite books/movies is better) ((they also just bicker really often)) 

-damien ruffles freelancer’s hair like an older brother would

-the damn group have pool parties at huxley and damien’s house pretty often (freelancer wears bikini bottoms and gavin spends the whole day trying to flirt with them)

-freelancer gets stomach aches so often to the point where huxley asks them if their stomach hurts today every time they meet up 

-dear has a habit of lying about the most random things for no reason. it's not even believable but they just talk with the straightest face and when you ask "really?" they say "no, wtf?" ("yeah i used to be a gymnast. i won like three national titles" "oh my god really? that's awe-" "no.") ((they think it's the funniest thing in the world))

-huxley wipes stuff (food, dust etc.) off of damien’s face for him. outright refuses to let him do it for himself 

-freelancer refers to the crew as their bitches (they're not wrong)

-dear is the most calming presence anyone has been around (damien falls asleep around/on them so often)

-the first time dear called lasko babe/baby he literally almost passed out from how much blood rushed to his face (huxley may or may not have witnessed it and had to fan his face for several minutes)

-freelancer, lasko and damien have little trio dates

-freelancer moans at random to be funny and damien has actually started fighting them for it

-the crew has karaoke fairly often (they can all sing pretty well but sometimes they just choose to sing terribly)

-because damien and freelancer have the most sibling-like relationship in the group, they fight quite often. the arguments aren't always awful but they get bad occasionally (they went no contact for almost a week until dear decided to play mediator and forced them to talk it out)

-lasko doodles the group in different art styles in his free time (gavin found the drawings and said it was cute before lasko could start panicking)

-the crew has made a habit out of hanging out in lasko and dear's offices during breaks, even if neither of them are inside

-since freelancer was the last to graduate, everyone showed up to their ceremony and they all screamed louder than anyone else in the crowd

-the crew welcomed dear into the group so easily it's like they've always been apart of the family

-however, the moment that officially solidified them as one of them was the first time they cried in front of them all after about a year of meeting (it was the anniversary of their grandfather's death and they couldn't hold it together)

-lasko is a billion times more confident on his private instagram and twitter accounts

-freelancer goes into a food coma whenever they're even slightly full so after every friendsgiving meal, they take a nap on the couch for like half an hour

-dear and damien are the resident chefs of the group (the first time dear cooked around them all, damien swore for half a second he was in love with them)

-dear is the true mom friend of the group

damihux are bokuaka coded whooo said that?????

[miiyas]

Hi Atlas! Hope you are doing good. Can you please do a atsumu x reader fluff where reader is from karasuno who comes to cheer for the team in nationals. Sorry if this is vague i don't know how to put this. I love your fics thank you!

LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN

atsumu was lucky to be getting your number and to be wearing your favorite number on his jersey

fluff, wc: 1.1k, gn reader, really rushed ending, lovesick tsumu, pre-ts, not proof read

atsumu miya wasn’t one to bother looking at the opponents side of the bleachers. he didn’t care if their school banner was fancy, he never cared if the girls up there were shouting his name. when he’s on the court, he’s on the court.

so he caught himself off guard when he heard your pretty little voice shouting throughout the gym and by then, he just had to have a glimpse. and by god, was he glad he did. with your little twirls and jumps of excitement, atsumu had a sudden, unexpected hint of lingering jealousy that karasuno, some stupid, stupid underground team with some freak first years, had you to cheer them on.

you were pretty, he has to admit. he wonders where you got that karasuno boys volleyball zip up jacket and imagined how black and gold would look on you.

his school track suit, not karasunos.

as the court line up faces the large crowd and band on their side of the court, atsumu nudges osamu slightly, mouth slightly agape as he pants for air.

“oh my god,” osamu grumbles under his breath, already expecting what his twin was going to say. he’s already noticed his brothers wandering eyes, too tired to deal with his bull. “if this is about the one up at karasunos bleachers, i don’ wanna hear it.”

“wha ?! i didn’t even say nothin’ yet !”

“i know what yer gon’a say, ‘n i don’t care.” atsumu scoffs at this, more irritated than he already was. as he bows and thanks the cheer team in front of him, the only few things on his mind was on how his back ached with sweat sticking his shirt onto his skin, how he could really go for a icy gatorade, and how desperately he needed your number. hell, even a simple conversation would be enough for him.

the team disperses and go their separate ways in the arena, getting food or watching other games throughout the extended court. there was a strange craving for something spicy that lingered on atsumus tongue. despite knowing how badly his stomach would hurt after, he goes on his hunt, pushing through the crowd of people.

there isn’t anything particular that catches his eye and he takes note of the small onigiri stall, debating whether he should get a kimchi onigiri for himself (and maybe for ‘samu too) or if he should continue to wander around and find something more suitable.

he glances at the price. seven hundred yen for one, what a deal. as his eyes wander around to the quality of the rice and ingredients being used, he finds himself gravitating to the line.

with a hand in his track suit pocket, atsumu counts up a total of two thousand yen— enough for two onigiris and a drink for himself. he mouths what his order would be quietly, tired eyes glued to the printed menu. the wait from the person in front makes his eyes peel away slowly, honey brown eyes sliding down to see the smaller one in front of him. just as he does, atsumus eyes turn wide and he’s paused from shock.

holy shit. it was you.

you struggle to find extra bucks for a drink, cheeks a little flustered from the embarrassment of taking too long. giving up on finding the money, you sigh shakily and look up at the cashier, an apologetic smile displaying your nervous features.

“shit, uhm, you can put down the green tea bottle, actually.” you mumble out, pulling out eight hundred yen and gently handing it to the hands of the cashier. “keep the change.”

just as you were about to step out of the line and wait for your order, atsumu speaks up, his voice coming out louder than what he expected.

“i can get you that ..!”

with rapid blinks, you turn on your heel to face the blonde, recognizing him almost immediately, panic engulfing your eyes.

inarizakis setter, atsumu miya … how embarrassing this was for you.

“what ..? no, it’s fine, seriously—” without giving you any time to finish your sentence fully, atsumu pushes past you, his right hand slamming down his two thousand yen on the counter while the other sticks up two fingers. there’s an oddly determined look on his face, which only makes you cringe slightly.

“two kimchi onigiri and one oi ocha !” there are now three fingers sticking up and the cashier hesitantly nods, tapping on her screen and giving atsumu his receipt. the blonde steps out of the way as he receives the bottle, looking down at you and handing the cold drink over. as you were going to take the bottle away from his hands, miya snatches it away, a smug grin growing on his lips.

“if i give you this,” he teasingly shakes the bottle, lifting it up so it was just out of your reach. “you need’ta gimme yer number.”

“what.” you deadpan, irritation hinting at your voice.

“your number.” the blonde repeats, lips tugging up as he sees your face turn into a rosy pink. there’s a pretty smile that grazes your features, and atsumu swears that he feels his heart skip a beat.

“… fine.” you sigh out, looking around for something to write on. there’s a napkin dispenser and you slip one out, finding a pen by the counter to write your number on.

“you’re lucky i like the number seven.” you grin out, scribbling your number on the paper. at your words, atsumus terrifying combination of pride and ego inflates, straightening his posture to make sure the bold number was to be shown. you place the pen down on the counter of the onigiri stall and fold up the pale napkin, handing it over to the blonde. “let me treat you sometime. it’s only fair.”

a little stunned, atsumu simply accepts the napkin and nods. he swears he wanted to kiss you right then and there, take you out and spend all of his money (and maybe ‘samus too) just to see you smile over and over again.

with a breathy exhale, he nods with calloused fingers rolling the corners of the napkin. he’d like that. he likes that idea a lot. to go out with you in casual atmosphere with your carefree smile shining all for him.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

you smile politely, and atsumu feels his ears burn red. adrenaline thoughts get interrupted by the call of his orders. two onigiris, neatly wrapped in plastic, await for grabs. as he watches you take your drink and onigiri, the surrounding feels all too warm as he hears you ask where the two of you should sit. his heart thumps in his chest as you look around the stadium, trying to find a seat for two.

gosh, so sorry, ‘samu. you’re gonna have to buy your own onigiri this time.

[pedrospatch]

Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe. 

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod. 

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

[enbyfrogwrites]

you're so needy, baby pt. 2

so! y'all voted for the content of pt 2. I hope y'all enjoy, again mdni and everything is under the cut <3.

tags: dead dove do not eat, mommy kink, sub!choso, smut, begging, afab reader but reader is nb coded, reader is mix coded but there's nothing pertaining to race outwardly, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl, needy!choso, dom!gn!reader, reader is FAT not chubby or curvy, squirting, 18+; i don't go into details of what reader has, but reader is afab!coded but no outward description of their bottom half. Additionally, no use of y/n, unprotected sex

i'm trying my best, my physical and mental health went down the drain so i'm sorry that it took literal months to even begin this. there's going to be spelling and grammar errors cuz i'm just one person and that's just how it goes. please send me asks of yummy content. i think im gonna make this sub characters blog lmao

thanks for reading <3

word count: ~1.8k

You look back at Choso, his face wet as he pathetically whimpers a combination of pleas and 'Mommy'. You've been playing your game for a while. You haven't checked the time yet, but you figured it was close to an hour since you actually started playing.

"M-Mommy-" Choso huffed hotly into the nape of your neck. "Has it been an hour yet?" His voice was so whiney, the tail end of his question ended in a higher pitch. You chuckle as you felt your boyfriend nuzzled his tear-stained face in between your neck and the soft meat of your shoulder. The sensation caused you to shiver slightly, in turn making Choso groan loudly as you felt his still hard cock twitch inside of you.

"I don't know, baby. I have to check." You answered truthfully, your hand reaching up and ruffled your boyfriend's fine hair. Choso leans into the touch, letting out a small noise. You paused your game and grabbed your phone which sat next to your desktop. You swiftly tap your screen as you bring the device to your face. As you looked at the time, you felt your cute boyfriend grab at your apron belly, squeezing tightly in need, but not enough to physically hurt you.

You notice you have ten more minutes left before it would be a full hour...but you were in between quests in your game. Not only that...but your boyfriend was being such a good boy too...ah, fuck it.

"Yeah, baby." You coo as you take your headphones off and set them in front of you. "Are you ready for Mommy's reward?"

"Please, please!" Choso cried softly into your plump shoulder, his hands skirting up your stomach so he can wrap his arms around your waist. "Mommy, it hurts. Have I been a good boy?"

Your boyfriend squeezes you tightly, whining and sniffling pathetically. You again reach over your shoulder to pat his head lovingly before placing both of your hands on your desk for better leverage. You propel the desk chair backwards, pushing off your desk just enough for you and Choso to get up, not to fling yourself across the room.

"C'mon, Pookie;" You turn your head to look at Choso's beautiful dark violet eyes. "Let's take this to the bed, Okay? Mommy wants you to lay on the bed for them." You slowly pull yourself off his length, making your boyfriend gasp as your wet hole left his aching cock. His cock was slick and shiny from your hole, glistening in the natural lighting in your bedroom. Gods, his cock was beautiful, the head leaked profusely and was a glorious shade between dusty pink and scarlet red. Choso's cock twitched temptingly from the sudden temperature difference. The shaft was just so thick and veiny, and absolutely delectable to look at.

You look up and noticed how wrecked Choso truly was. The shorter front pieces his hair was plastered to this forehead. Your boyfriend's cheeks were so flushed that it somehow made the mark on his nose stand out even more. When you make eye contact with the poor half-curse, his dark circles were more pronounced from how much he was crying and begging. The blush from his cheeks traveled all the way down his neck to just a bit under collar bone that peaked from his V-neck.

You gestured to the bed next to your desk with your hand before gently leaning down to lick your way into Choso's mouth. The mewl that left his mouth as you caressed his tongue lovingly with your own was delicious. You pull away and made the short distance to the bed. You plop down on the edge of it and stared at your boyfriend expectantly as you patted your shared bed.

Choso scrambled off your desk chair, his feet shuffling swiftly and softly across the hardwood floor. He climbed dutifully on the bed and went to the center of the mattress where you patted.

"Scoot up for, Mommy please. Mommy wants their good boy's back on the headboard, can you do that?"

Choso nodded eagerly, his hands pushing the majority of his body weight so he can maneuver to how you wanted him positioned. You move up with him and made sure to tuck a couple of pillows behind him in preparation for his...reward. In addition, you slide your chubby fingers under his V-neck and pulled the fabric off his chiseled abdomen and carefully made sure that it didn't snag on any of his piercings on the way up.

"Mommy, please." Choso choked out, his right hand sneaking past your heated core to grip his cock. Really it's been only a few minutes, but the tone of his voice and desperation in your boyfriend's eyes made it seem it's been like a million years. You giggled as you gently pried his hand off his leaking cock, giving a small peck on his cheek in compensation.

"Relax for me, baby."

You palm your boyfriend's cock with one hand, starting from the base and leave fleeting touches across his tip with your fingertips. You repeat this motion a couple times, making Choso squirm and gasp loudly at the sensation. On the downwards stoke, you continue further down and cupped Choso's balls and gently massaged them. You pull a few more moans and whimpers from him before letting go completely.

You turn yourself around and backed your ass up enough, so your boyfriend's cock lined perfectly with your sopping hole. You hold your breath as you grip his cock and began to sink down on to it. Gods, he was just in you, and he still felt so damned big. You wait a moment after Choso bottoms out to catch your breath before to turning partially around to face the half-curse.

"Let Mommy do all the work, okay? You can cum in Mommy's hole whenever. You were such a good boy today, Cho!"

Choso's only response was a meek 'please, Mommy' followed by a shuttered breath. His pupils were blown wide, his beautiful violet irises almost swallowed whole as he made eye contact with you. You gave him a lopsided smile before facing forward so you can grab at the bed between Choso's thighs.

"My thighs, Mommy!" A pause as you whip your head back towards the half-curse. "I want to feel you grip my thighs as you fuck yourself on my cock, Mommy."

You face heated up immediately. You felt yourself get even more wet on his cock before hurriedly turning back around in slight embarrassment. You go to do what your boyfriend requested of you, but you felt him yank on your t-shirt.

"I love seeing all of you, baby. It's not fair if I'm the only one naked." Choso's tone was between husky and needy.

A twinge of self-consciousness peaked in your head at the thought of riding you boyfriend with all of you exposed. You apron belly, your back rolls, and your stretch marks would be on complete display. But just as those thoughts came into your head, they vanished when you felt Choso sit up more just to grab at your fat stomach.

"Please, baby? I love you. All of you."

You felt your body relax- you didn't even know it tensed up in the first place quite frankly. Warmth blossomed throughout your chest as the love and comfort radiated from Choso. You nodded your head and swiftly pulled off your shirt. You didn't wear a binder or a bra today, so you felt your nipples pebble immediately in the open air.

Fuck, you loved Choso so damned much.

"I love you, too. Lean back so Mommy can take care of you." You twist your head enough so you can watch him obey you before you faced forward again.

You gripped Choso's thighs as you lifted your hips up and slammed them down again. Choso made a choked sound behind you, making you smile at the noise before repeating the motion again. You began to rock your hips at the end, making your boyfriend hit deep inside you. Helpless, you yelp in pleasure as you do it again. Small 'ah ah ah's kept being punched from Choso's lips as you sit fully on him again.

"Fuck, baby, meet me halfway?" You groan the question out as you grind your core on the half-curse's pelvis.

"Yeah, Mama," Choso didn't even hesitate before grabbing your plump hips as leverage to thrust up into you.

You both moan when you meet perfectly in the middle. The skin-on-skin slapping echoed loudly throughout the room, which surprisingly wasn't half as loud as Choso's cries of 'mommy' and his high-pitched keens.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy-" the noise Choso let out following the last plea was between a choked sob and a frustrated whine. "I'm gonna cum! Please! Puh-lease." You twist your head to look behind you and noticed your boyfriend was only using one hand on your hips as he gripped on to his hair with his other hand...in desperation.

You were close too- fuck. Your legs were getting tired, but you weren't going to stop now especially if your boyfriend looked like that. Gripping his thighs even tighter- he's definitely going to have bruises tomorrow- you push yourself even further. Your hips came down harshly and unrelenting. You purposely kept grinding your core on every down stroke to bring yourself closer to orgasming.

"Cumming, Mommy!" Choso keened, he learned forward and grabbed your fat stomach, as he held your hips still to pump his hot seed into your sloppy hole. You felt his cock twitch inside your gummy walls, and you quickly reached between your legs to rub yourself furiously.

It didn't take much, a couple of swipes of your chubby fingers on your nub and the dam broke. A small cry left your lips as you felt a small distant feeling of being...more wet than usual when cumming this time around.

You rested on your haunches as you tried to catch your breath. Unconsciously you rubbed at the now red fingerprints blossoming on Choso's thighs. Speaking of him you felt the half-curse lovingly rub your stomach as he nuzzled his face into the plush middle of your back.

You then felt Choso began to shake uncontrollably, and you began to worry. Just as you tried to turn around, you felt Choso smile into your back, and you noticed that he was fucking...laughing?

"Look down, baby." Choso giggled.

You do as you were requested and look down. To your horror your sheets were soaked.

"Holy fuck! Did I really squirt?" You also noticed that your boyfriend's cock and balls were sopping.

"And here you were trying to play your game, but you wouldn't have done this if you did, Mommy."

[desperate-gay]

Your fiancé is insufferable.

When she’s showering you with kisses all over your face after games and whispering phrases that make your heart swell, you forget the fact of the matter. But when you’re ruining each other for anyone else in the confined walls of your bedroom, she reminds you of it every time.

Mary Earps is insufferable.

“Baby, no…”

“Baby, yes.” She returns with that signature smirk of hers that makes your body reset for the fifth orgasm of the night. Almost.

She’s laid down on her back, knees bent, and one arm stretched over your lower back. The other is adjusting the strap that was the reason for the recent two orgasms. The other three were because like you said, she loves being a nuisance in the bedroom. Making you so sensitive, you’re an aching mess post session.

You’re on top of her with your legs over her waist and hands on her stomach trying to find anything to hold onto in efforts of focusing more on your grip versus the slow grinds Mary has started with her own hips again.

“Just give me one more. You’re so beautiful.”

You whine and moan and it was already too much a few minutes ago. She knows you and your body more than yourself sometimes, so you’d be lying if you even entertained the idea of her crossing boundaries. Maybe you just didn’t want to be a riled up mess in her arms. This led to endless teases of the effect she had on you.

“Oh my god, Mary.” You cry out and quickly move your hands under her back, hugging her. Needing something, anything, to hold onto tightly. You feel so vulnerable, but safe all at the same time. Your face is buried into her neck and your noises are right in her ear. This was her favorite part of you straddling her.

Mary goes insane when you turn to her for comfort and safety. That’s why she loves making you as a vulnerable as possible. No one else gets to see this side of you, not if she has anything to say about it. Your writhing moans, cries, and nail marks that you leave all over her body. Mary is the name you’re yelling or whispering during your most exposed moments.

You went from bouncing up and down like a wild animal, taking what’s yours, to surrendering all control to her as she moved away from slow grinds and now rough slams up and down. Your thighs are getting tight around hers now, trying to feel anything but how she feels inside of you.

“Feels good, yeah? This is all I thought about at night in my hotel room. Let me make you feel good now.”

You can feel tears pricking at your eyes. In bed, at her hands, is the only time Mary tolerates you having an innocent cry. Any other time, for any other reason, breaks her heart. It makes her cold knowing that you can feel sadness or hurt. It introduces another side of her that makes you love your fiancé all the more.

But this side, right here right now. The one that’s going back and forth between fast thrusts and slow grinds makes you want to throw your engagement ring across the room.

“Just give it to me, please…”

The hand that made your ass cheeks red just a few minutes ago moves to grip your hair and rip your face away from her neck. She wants you to look at her, while you came undone.

“Look at me, fiancé.”

She’s fucking smirking.

You’re usually vocal and communicative, telling her how good she makes you feel and how her hands work wonders. But you’re lost for words at just how smug she looks after putting you in such a damning position. Minutes ago, you’re trying to move away and now she is getting her way, as expected.

You know what? You were going to make her suffer a bit too.

You pulled your head down into a soft kiss and moaned into her mouth which led her to readjust. The strap hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you and Mary (being oh so attentive to just how violent your hips moved in response) maintained that position so the long awaited orgasm would arrive just a little bit sooner for you.

She tried to pull away from the kiss to catch her breath with her forehead resting on yours, but you smashed your lips right back into her. Biting her bottom lip in the process. Like you said, let’s wind her up a bit too.

“I would’ve orgasmed by now if it was at the hands of-“

She doesn’t let you finish your sentence. You’re getting bratty which means she’s not making you weak enough. Your words are swallowed up instead by the quick hands slapping your ass and rapid thrusts into you cunt.

“Fuck, stop. Mary, oh my god.”

“Stop? You don’t mean that.”

You’re screaming now and your hands are at the sides of her head on the pillow with your face turned to the right and eyes clenched. It’s so much and she’s right which makes it worse. You don’t mean it all.

The hand that has been going back and forth between your ass and face comes back to grab your cheek and turn it to face straight towards her.

“You’ll never be at the hands of anyone else. Don’t say dumb things because you’re too fucked to think straight.”

Shit, that’s getting you off. Her possessiveness always makes you a stuttering mess. You’re closer and with the pace of her thrusts that are absolutely relentless, the orgasm is unavoidable.

“I’m sorry I’m- FUCK. Mary, I’m coming.”

“Louder, get louder.”

You’re able to get a glance at the woman under you and it’s apparent that she’s getting off of your every movement as well. Your noises, your body, your showcase of being a brat even. You chanted out her name even louder as she smiled up at you, continuing to grind her hips inside you in a vile motion whilst you rode out your orgasm.

Everything is suddenly a blur and you think the movements that are still being initiating by Mary are for her more than they are for yourself.

“You okay, love?”

You don’t respond. You face has found her neck once more and now she’s tracing gentle circles on your back. You need a moment because what the fuck. Your legs are still twitching in some moments and just knowing how much Mary will rejoice in it gives you the strength to pick your head back up.

“Why can’t you just be normal?”

She chuckles at that and widens her eyes, almost as if she’s looking at you like you’re being ridiculous.

“Normal? What’s weird about taking care of the sexual fire ignited by my lover?”

“Five, Earps. I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, I think.”

“You’ve taken more.”

“They weren’t that intense back to back,” You roll your eyes playfully and damn those eyes of hers have you losing yourself in them. Post sex and they’re lustful, but also just such a reminder of your Mary at the same time. “You’ll be in the doghouse next time.”

“Oh Mary .. Just give it to me Mary .. my god …”

She’s mocking your noises and words now and you hastily move to get off of her, ignoring the feeling that the removal of the strap does to your cunt. She knows all the buttons to press.

You hear her laugh and her strong hands which you can’t compete with drag you back down on the bed. There she is, showering you with kisses all over your cheeks. Then your forehead, right under your eyes, on your chin. Then lastly, just so softly right on your lips.

“Marry me.”

You smirk and it scares you just how perfect everything feels. “I already am.” You say as you lift your hand with your ring finger having the rock she gifted to you a few weeks ago after you said yes almost immediately when she popped the question.

That makes Mary smile and kiss you once more.

“Why did you say that comment about someone else’s hands? I didn’t like that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s like you said, I was too dazed by you fucking the life out of me, Earps. Needed to give you payback.”

“Okay. But I didn’t like it.”

“Well, I hope not.”

It’s your turn to laugh this time and you give her a comforting kiss on her shoulder to ease the disgusted look on her face. She is without a doubt, picturing you with someone else. You make a mental note of apologizing to her in your naughty way another night.

The moment is followed by silence and you guys are just looking at each other like you’re the only people not in the room, but the world. At least that’s how it feels.

“You’re perfect, baby.”

“Mary…”

“You are.”

“Nothing and nobody is perfect.”

“You’re the closest thing.”

She whispers the last sentence so so softly and your heart is racing fast. She gives you butterflies, makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world, and reduces you to putty all within the span of hours? Minutes? You’re ruined. You’re so fucked. The solace is that she’s with you, forever.

“Don’t make me cry.”

“Okay. Give me a kiss.”

You move up to kiss her and it’s the most intimate part of the night. Because it’s after you’ve come undone, after she’s taken care of you. It’s after you’ve clarified that you’re marrying her and there’s no one else for you.

Your fiancé is insufferable. But she’s yours. And you’re hers.

okay WHOEVER this is make fics bc omg

[13as07]

Motherhood #1

(Kakashi Hatake)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Garajiru]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

None

[Idea inspired by Criminal Minds - Garcia and Derek; Season 8, Episode 11]

Word Count: 3,979

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

———————————————————————

My whole body aches as I walk across the grassy field of the Third Training Ground. I'll never understand why Kakashi insists on training so far away from the main parts of the village. Well... I do understand. Despite how he comes off, he is a very sentimental person.

Pain sizzles across my rib cages, a side effect from littered stitches across my skin. I'm never going to hear the end of it when Kakashi finds out.

I should wait until he's done training with his students. I know he's a personal guy and I get it, especially with our line of work, but I want to see him. The burning need for him has been clawing at my heart for the past week. That burning only grew once the stab wounds registered in my head, and somehow became even heavier as needles were being threaded through me to close my wounds. He's going to be pissy or at least off his game when I find him, but that's okay. I know he'll smooth himself out.

As if the universe wants to apologize, a mix of 'why's', groans, and 'Sensei!'s fill the meadow. I can feel a smile perk up at the sounds.

I've heard a lot about my husband's little genins; Sasuke the Uchiha boy who shows great potential if he could get over his attitude, Naruto the chakra-packed spaz-ball who dreams of being Hokage, and Sakara the kunoichi with impressive chakra control who's just a little too distracted by Sasuke.

My smile only grows as the big blob of my husband and his three little blobs fall into my sight. The yellow and orange blob - I think that one is Naruto - is bobbing up and down. What a cute little jumping bean; well jumping blob.

Despite the burning across my sides, I hurry up my pace to get to Kakashi faster.

Once I can make out the details of my dotting husband, the burning in my heart starts cooling off. God, I miss him so much when we're apart. The seemingly unreachable retirement in our future sounds so good right now.

"Calm down, guys. It's just a progress exercise," Kashi's voice rings out, paired with the soft clinking of the bells wrapped around his belt loop. Before I left he mentioned redoing the bell test with his genins to check how they've improved. I guess today is the day.

"Oh, come on Kakashi-Sensei! Do you have to? We all know I'm already the best, do you really have to double-check it?" Blondie whines as he messes with his headband. That is definitely the spaz-ball.

"Being less sucky than Sakura doesn't make you the best," the raven-haired boy mumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Naruto.

Sasuke's eyes catch me for a second before he glances at his Sensei for guidance. Said Sensei hasn't caught wind of me yet, curtsy of his back being turned towards me with his students facing the both of us.

Sakura's face sinks at her crush's words before a closed-eyes smile crosses her face. "I think it'll be fun to do the bell exercise again, Sensei!" When her eyes snap open, they catch on me too, just like the Uchiha did a second ago. Unlike the boy though, her face scrunches up as she stays focused on me. "Sensei-"

I jump forward, arms wrapping around my husband. I immediately regret it when my stitches come into rough contact with Kakashi's vest. A pain-filled whine slips out as I bury my head between his shoulder blades. "That hurt," I whine again, softly digging my fingertips into his stomach.

"Then maybe don't do that," Kash teases, his smile slipping through his words.

My head lifts before falling back down, softly headbutting his back. "Don't be mean."

A soft chuckle fills the air, spilling out from my husband. The sound fills me with warm, the good love-filled kind instead of the longing kind of heat. "My little crybaby," he mumbles, shifting in my hold so my head is against his chest instead of his back. "Why are you being such a crybaby?"

"I'm not being a crybaby," I bite back but it comes out as a pout instead of the strong 'don't fuck with me' attitude I was trying to have.

"Aww, now you're being pouty," he continues to tease as his hands slide under my shirt.

Despite his teasing tone, everything else about Kakashi is serious. His hands are soft and nimble as he rubs them over my skin, checking for new wounds from my mission. His eye repeatedly scanning me, looking for obvious wounds and any sign of real distress.

"I might have had a not-so-perfect mission," I mumble, glancing behind him at his students. They're all looking at each other in confusion, hushed whispers - and Naruto's failing attempt at being quiet - being passed between them.

     "What does that mean?" Kashi asks, his fingers light as he comes into contact with my wrappings.

     It's taken some practice, but I can see the small cracks in his calm composure. His eyebrows are ever so slightly pushed forward, jaw locked almost unnoticeably under his mask, eye slightly wider than normal, and a drop of worry hidden in his words. From an outsider, he'd look as calm as ever, but not to me. I can see the storm brewing under it.

     "I was stabbed a couple of times but it's not that big of the deal. No casualties and my squad came out less harmed than me, so over all a good mission."

     Another slip of composer; his fingers stiffing a bit as he dips them under the bandages. "I can't believe you were stabbed," he whispers, face inching closer to me so I can pick up on the soft volume.

     I feel bad about not being able to wait to see him. I know it's difficult for him to keep his composure when I'm hurt, and even more difficult when we're around people because he's worried his composure will slip.

     "I got stabbed in my vest," I mumble back, wrapping my hands slightly around his arms before I stand up a bit straighter. I use the extra height to nuzzle myself against his cheek. "It's just a couple of stitches, I'm okay."

     "Why don't they make better vests?" Kash mumbles to himself more than me, his focus on his hands as if he could see them through my shirt.

     His breath has picked up too, fingers not so light as they cling to my wrappings. My poor anxiety-filled husband is getting into his head way too much. "They're not stabproof. It's like when your watch gets wet and stops working. That's water resistant not waterproof. They need to make our vests knife-proof. They should-"

     "I... am... fine..." I breathe out, following each word with a kiss. First to his reviled eye, then to his cheek at the edge of his mask, and lastly, a light one against his masked lips.

     "I know but-"

     My hands dip further down his arms, tugging my shirt up gently so the edge of my bandages is exposed. "See? I'm fine?" I tease a bit, dipping my head behind his ear before pressing another soft kiss into him.

     When I fall back into place, Kakashi's eye is dancing over the edge of my wrap, fingers lightly dancing over my skin again. A barely visible pink pokes out from his mask. My partner might be a very composed man, but he's still a man. One that falls victim to the shaping of my waist, especially when it's empathized by a skirt or crop top; or bandages in this case.

     "It's just a couple of stitches," I repeat before dropping my hands back to my sides, my shirt following pursuit.

     "How... how, um..." Kakashi's flustered state is adorable, the pink getting deeper and his eye still locked in please even though his favorite sight is gone. "How long do you need to be taped up like this?"

     "I don't know. A couple of days maybe," I answer, letting my own eyes wander over him. I'm as pleased to look over Kashi's body as he is to look over mine; though his v-line is my favorite part.  A soft hum comes from him, his body going back to his actual calmness instead of his fake composure. "You relaxed now?" I tease, pulling away from his touch.

     "Ya, I'm relaxed now," he husks out, stepping forward in a slow attempt to chase me.

     "Sensei!" All three of his students call, pulling my husband back down to Earth.

     I think he missed me as much as I missed him. The thought makes me happy, tugging another small smirk to my face.

     "Students!" He calls, eye going wide as he looks at me. Perhaps Kakashi doesn't want me around his students because I'm too much of a distraction. Oh well, one day of distraction won't hurt. "Students," he repeats, turning away from me to face the children he's responsible for.

     "Sensei, who's the cute lady?" Naruto asks, his eyes wide as well as he looks over me.

     "Um..."

     "You can call me Mrs. Hatake!" I chirp out, sidestepping Kashi so his students can see me better.

     "She's not even that good-looking," the little emo boy says, rolling his eyes at Naruto's compliment.

     "And you're not as badass as you think you are," I respond, tone still chirpy as I smile at the Uchiha.

     "Maybe let's not insult Sensei's girlfriend," Sakura pipes in, sending a glare at her heartthrob.

     "Wife," Kakashi corrects, a small smile on his face. My heart jumps a bit at the word. I don't think I'll ever get used to him calling me his wife.

     "Wife?!" They all call out, surprise on their face as they look at me.

     "Wife," Kashi repeats, tugging his glove off his left hand before grabbing at mine. He holds up our hands, showing off our matching wedding bands to his students.

     The bands are basic but cute; black with blue lightening strips through them. Gai teases that Kakashi had them made this way to mimic his Chidori as a fail-proof claim to me. I don't mind the teasing, I find it adorable that Kashi wants people to know for certain that he's my husband. What better way to do that than marking me with his personal ninjutsu?

     "You... are married to someone like that?" His kunoichi asks, face scrunched up in disbelief.

     "Is that supposed to be an insult, Sakura?" Kash asks, his face still covered in a smile as he wiggles his glove back on.

     "No, you're just so..." she makes another face, causing a laugh to brew in my chest. "And she's so pretty."

     "You're pretty too, Sakura. I like the color of your hair," I answer, sending the kid a compliment back. Her face shifts to a smile instead of the previous face of disbelief. Good, I'm making a good impression on my husband's students.

     "You know Sakura's name?!" Naruto asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

     I hum a yes, turning my attention to him. "I know your name too, Naruto, and I know Mr Moody over there is Sasuke."

     Naruto - somehow - beams even more with happiness, and Sasuke's face scrunches in disapproval. "How do you know our names?" The ball of chakra asks, his in-place bouncing shifting to actual bouncing.

     "Because she's a jounin, duh. Do you ever use your head Naruto?" Mr Moody asks, paired with another eye roll.

     "Actually, I'm just a chunin. I'm not as skilled as your Sensei," I correct, sending Naruto a soft smile of reassurance.

     "Like a C-level chunin or a B-level chunin?" Sasuke asks, his attention finally caught.

     "Usually B-leveled but I do take C-level missions on occasion."

     "You just got back from a mission, ya?" He asks, body language opening up some. I'm three for three in the student department. That is a solid win.

     "Yes, I did. Maybe we can talk about it over some food, hm?" I gently push, sending Kakashi a sheepish smile. I know he's going to give me what I want; he always does, but I should have asked him privately before bringing it up to his students.

     On the other hand, Kakashi is out of his groove so I'm sure his students are out of a training mindset as well. Some food would help set them back on track, maybe. Probably not, but I want to get to know his students a little more. After all, they're a big part of his life, which makes them a big part of my life.

"Really?! Can we, Sensei? Can we? Can we? Can we?" Naruto cheers, running circles around Kash as he pleads.

"Alright, alright!" He calls, stopping Naruto in his tracks. "We can take a small break and go eat at Ramen Ichiraku, but as soon as we're done eating we are doing the bell test. Y/N can't wiggle you guys out of that," Kashi answers, sending me a warning look, telling me to not even try to stop their testing again after we eat.

"Yes!" Naruto cheers, darting in the direction of the village's main road.

Sasuke rolls his eyes again but follows after his squad mate, his pace notably slower than Naruto's. Sakura follows suit, trying her best to get Sasuke to promise to sit next to her. He is having none of it though, at least not until Naruto offers to sit next to her. Then he seems a little more interested in the offer. The little Uchiha boy takes after his Sensei more than he knows.

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"That sounds so cool," Naruto yells around a mouth full of noodles. I'll have to send Iruka a passing comment about his kid's lack of table manners. Despite that, Naruto is still adorable and the cutest little fuzz-ball I've ever met.

"Didn't feel cool when I was getting stitched up," I reply a small chuckle following my words.

"If you can take the cut, you can take the stitch," Kakashi teases despite the tighter grip he has on my hand under the table. Mr. Play-It-Cool isn't as laid back as he's pretending.

     "What about you guys? You just got back from the Village hidden in the Mist, ya?" I push gently, trying to change the subject. I can almost hear the 'thank you' brewing in my husband's throat, even if he'd never voice it. The relaxed fingers tangled in mine are enough of an approval. "That must have been fun."

     "It was alright," Sasuke mumbles, chopsticks messing with his noodles. Little Moody isn't as good at playing off his emotions as his Sensei.

     "You got your second tomoe, right?" I try again, turning my focus to Sasuke. He's a closed-off one, just like Kakashi... and his brother.

     The Uchahi's eyes go a bit wide before his full attention is on me. "Um... ya, I guess."

     "You guess? I feel like that's something you would know."

     "I did, ya," he mumbles before turning his attention back to his bowl.

     "Well, that's quite the accomplishment. Your father would be proud."

     I should not have said that. Sasuke's grip on his chopsticks tightens, head snaps back up, glare directed at me, as he pushes himself to his feet. The stool he was standing on clinks to the ground, making Sakura jump. It would be a cute scene if the Uchahi didn't have murder in his eyes.

"And what do you know about my father? Nothing. Just like you know nothing about me, so stop trying to be a mother hen. I don't need you to be one, neither does Naruto or Sakura, so knock it off. And while you're at it stop pretending you know anything about the sharingan too, cause you don't."

     A soft smile sits on my face as I look over Sasuke. He reminds me so much of Kakashi, right down to the similar anger they have. The only difference is I managed to get Kashi to process his anger for the death of his loved ones.

     "Are you done?" I ask gently, ignoring the feeling of Kakashi repeatedly squeezing my hand under the table. That, and the stare he's burning into me.

     "Yes," the Uchiha hisses out, eyes squinting in anger.

     "Well, first, information on anything - sharingan included - is available at the library. Second, your Sensei has a sharingan so I know a good deal about it. Third, there's a difference between me wanting to get to know you and me wanting to mother you. Fourth, I did meet your father quite a few times before his death so I can say for certain that you were one of his pride and joys."

     "Oh," is the only answer I get back, but I don't mind since it seems my speech worked. Sasuke is still a bit on edge but his body language relaxes a bit before he picks his stool back up. I'll count that as a win. What a little spitfire.

The feeling of Kakashi's hold on my hand tightens again, pulling me out of the situation. I turn my attention to him, being met with a soft masked smile. Flowers of love blossom in my chest at the sight. God I love this man, and our little make-shift family. Maybe Sasuke is right, maybe I am accidentally trying to mother my husband's students.

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"Hatake!" A voice rings out, pulling my attention away from Gai. I've spent the day helping him train his students, aka being an example dummy for new taijutsus he wants to show his genins. It's not all bad, he promised me dinner to "ease my bruises".

"Yes?" I call back, glancing at Gai and his students before turning towards the noise.

Gai's mini-me - Lee - is beaming with joy as he races past me. "If it isn't my greatest competitor for Sakura's heart!" He yells, falling back into his defensive pose. I swear this new generation of Shinobis is just packed full of energy.

     Sasuke makes a face at Lee before turning his attention to me. "Sensei wants you," he murmurs before turning in his heels.

I shoot Gai an apologetic smile before heading off after the Uchahi. It's funny watching him trying to stay a step or two ahead of me. Given, that it doesn't last long, him falling back to a normal pace.

Most of the walk is uneventful, nothing more than silence and eye daggers being thrown at me. "I don't like you," Sasuke finally says once we get to the outer fields of the village.

"Well, I don't like you either," I shoot back, trying to keep the smile off my mouth.

Once again Sasuke makes a face, this time in surprise instead of disgust like earlier. "You can't say that to me."

"And yet, I did," I answer, letting the smirk settle on my face.

"You have an attitude problem."

"I'm copying you, so maybe you have an attitude problem."

Another face, this time leaving him as the spitting image of his mother. It's always surprised me how much Sasuke looks like his mom. Will Kashi and my child look that much like me? Or take after their father? I hope they at least get their father's Shinobi skills. Though, children can't be something I think of right now. Kakashi has his hands full as is.

     Once again silence falls between the genin and I, but this time it's a comfortable silence instead of the anger brewing one from before. As we walk, Sasuke occasionally bumps into me, his nose scrunching up each time followed by a couple of side steps away from me. Despite his efforts, the little Uchahi keeps hovering back to my side and continues to bump into me. It's good to know under all the brewing, Sasuke is still a child.

     "Look!" Naruto's voice echoes across the empty field, his blob coming into view again. "Lady Hatake!" He screams, dragging out my Clan name as he races across the field, Sakura in tow but she's screaming for Sasuke instead of me.

     "Naruto!" I call back, bracing myself for impact. Despite my preparation, I still end up taking a step or two back when Naruto's body collides with mine. His limbs stab into me in a few different places, bones colliding against my own along with my stitches. I suck in the hiss of pain trying to slide out as I hold on to the small boy.

     "Naruto," Sasuke hisses out, dagger eyes back on his face. "Be careful. Hatake is still hurt, dumbie." An eye roll is paired with the end of his sentence, along with a disappointed tongue click.

     "Oh, right. Sorry Lady Hatake."

     "It's all right," I hum, straightening the boy before letting him go. "What are you guys working on?"

     "Chakra control! Which I'm doing awesome at, by the way," Sakura answers, a proud smile across her face. I can't help but smile too at how proud she is of herself. My husband does have some good genins.

     "Hello," Kakashi's voice rings out, pulling my attention away from his students, but not for long.

     "Nah-uh! You get her all to yourself all the time Sensei, wait your turn!" Naruto barks, a sorry attempt at a glare on his face. "Guess what Lady Hatake!"

     "What?" I ask, glancing down at the chakra ball before looking back at my husband. He's beaming - well beaming as much as he lets himself outside of the safety of our house.

     "I tried a new ramen last night!"

     "Oh ya?" My empty question is followed by a twenty-minute conversation about some spicy ramen Naruto tried. It's also filled with Sakura reminding him that he's stupid and Sasuke's disapproval being openly shared.

     "Okay, that's enough about your dinner, Naruto," Kashi pipes up, cutting Naruto off. "You can have her back in a minute. Go... see who can hang upside longest." He mumbles, shrugging towards the tree a couple of feet away.

     "It's totally going to be me," Naruto cheers, running off towards the tree.

     "No way I'm going to let you beat me!" Sasuke yells, dashing after his squad mate, Sakura hot on his heels.

     The thought of children crawls back into my head. I already adore Kash's students, I can only imagine how much I'd adore our children.

     "Hey, Kash-"

     "Love-"

     Silence follows our accidental overlap, before being chased away by both of us chuckling. "What were you going to say?" I ask, soaking in my husband's appearance. No matter how many times or how long I look at him, Kakashi is always the most handsome man in the world.

"I think we should go to dinner tonight," he answers, glancing at his students. As ordered, all three are hanging upside down like bats. Though, Sakura looks tired so the competition will probably end up being between the boys.

"Why's that?" I ask my attention also on the genins. My chest bubbles with joy as I watch the boys try to tug each other off the branches.

"I want to talk about having a baby."

"What?" The word is torn from my lungs as my head flips back to Kakashi.

He's stood there, arms crossed and a faint smile under his mask. "I want to have a baby." He repeats, my head spinning a bit. Maybe he's more prepared for a child than I thought.

"Kash-" I start again, but end up getting cut off for the second time today.

"Naruto is cheating!" Sakura yells, waving her hands around to try and get Kakashi's attention.

     "I'll see you tonight. Naruto! Knock it off!" My eyes trail after him as I watch his path toward his students. The idea of motherhood seemed so lovely a second ago, but now? It's terrifying.

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