#he barely fits on the family couch

[noxturnals-void]

✨ Afternoon nap for the hardworking man ✨

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 1. Interview

Masterlist

SUMMARY: After Riley's injury on a mission, she can no longer be a part of the task force. Simon reluctantly starts looking for a dog-sitter to watch her while he's away for work, and that's when you show up on his doorstep.

Warnings: none

Simon Riley would have laughed if anyone had suggested that he needed a dog-sitter.

Riley, his eighty-pound German Shepherd and only family (outside of the 141, of course), went with him everywhere. Grocery store? There she was, K-9 vest on to avoid getting the stink eye from trouble-stirring strangers. Missions? She was there, working alongside Simon, and when she couldn't join, she was safe and tucked away on the animal unit back on base. At the small, one-story unit he called home? You'd better believe she's sitting on the couch next to him as he watches the telly, trying not to succumb to his daily nap. He never considered having a dog-walker care for her, since there was hardly a second where she wasn't walking right there with him.

But of course, as expected - life threw him a curveball.

The mission had gone well so far; everyone was booking it to exfil, hardly worrying about the few enemies left who could barely manage to fire their guns. Simon and Riley were sprinting to the heli, Simon already imagining how he was going to take a fat nap when he got back to base, when he heard it - amidst the sparce gunshots, Riley's pained yelp.

Simon had never shot someone so fast, but before he knew it, there was a bullet planted between the enemy soldier's eyes. Simon rushed to scoop Riley into his arms as she whined and howled - he loaded her onto the helicopter with Soap's help, hands shaking as he looked for the damage. Her right hind leg was bleeding, and every time he tried to look at it, she snapped her teeth in his direction with a shrill yap.

Simon couldn't hear Price as he promised to get her into surgery ASAP. He didn't register Gaz wrapping gauze around her leg as he carried her off the heli and into the medbay. He couldn't hear Johnny trying to comfort him as they stood in the hall, waiting for her to come out of the operating room so Simon could finally see her again. The only thing he could comprehend was her cries, her blood, and the fact that he was responsible for all this.

It wasn't a lethal injury, he knew that. But he assumed, and the vet later confirmed that she wouldn't be fit to continue working. And that terrified him. He had to continue working - what would happen to her? He wouldn't put her up for adoption, in fact, he'd nearly bit the head off the poor soldier who had suggested the idea. She'd be coming home with him, once she had fully healed, but then what? How would he take care of her when he had to go on missions?

He couldn't. Much to his chagrin, and as much as he hated the thought of her being under anyone else's responsibility, he was forced to hire a pet-sitter. He begrudgingly posted ads online, and even put his request up at the local doggie-daycare, despite having never sent Riley there. It didn't take long after bringing Riley home before people began to answer his ad, and he plucked a good handful of them to interview over the weekend.

So, there he was - sitting in the breakfast nook with Riley at his feet, silently judging each interviewee that had walked into his home. He was quite disappointed in the selection.

Simon had already decided 'no' to nearly every dog sitter that had answered his ad. He sat across from them as they described their skills and achievements, bored out of his mind as they treated the interview like it was a college application. He didn't want an egotistical, decorated twat caring for his dog... if Riley didn't care about this bloke being voted 'dog-walker of the month' by the doggie daycare, why should he?

He knew it came down to much more than that - but he was going by Riley's reaction, too. And so far, she was uninterested in all seven that he had interviewed thay day. She sat by Simon's feet, bum leg out and eyes zoning out on the stranger's shoes as they droned on. No one had actually paid much attention to her, instead focusing on impressing Simon.

He hated to admit it, but a boarding house for dogs might be the best option.

He had just scratched the second to last name off of his list of interviewees, pouring himself a cup of coffee at 4 pm, when a knock rapped at his door. He sighed, looking down at Riley; she was laying on her side, huffing at the fact that the random visits from random people was still going on.

"One more, eh?" Simon said, reaching down to ruffle her ears. She groaned through her nostrils in annoyance as he straightened out and walked towards the door.

He reluctantly opened it to find you standing there.

You, with nothing but your phone and keys, wearing a t shirt, oversized plaid, leggings, and sneakers. No folder full of resumes and reviews, no bone-shaped doggie bag holders... the only other thing you had was an apologetic look on your face.

"Hi." You said warily.

"Evenin'." Simon responded, leaning against the door.

You sighed. "I should let you know- well, aren't I being rude..." You rolled your eyes at yourself and stuck your hand out at him. You stated your name with a sheepish smile.

He stared at your hand for a second, before shaking it with his own. "Simon."

The way your eyes lingered on his hand after he had gripped it so firmly didn't go unnoticed by him - but you quickly regained focus. "Well - before you waste your time on me, I should explain: I didn't read the posting correctly, and I thought this was a house-sitting gig. Only just noticed when I checked the address before I left... figured I'd still stop by since I told you I would."

You were looking at the ground out of embarrassment at this point. Simon's brow furrowed as he observed you. House-sitting isn't horrendously different from pet-sitting... he thought. "Well-"

"But I love dogs!" You quickly interjected. "Had three of them growing up, two bullies and a golden! Loves of my life, they are- never a day I didn't walk them. Well, besides that one week for Becca's wedding- and when my Nan had that nasty virus and I had to check up... on her..."

Simon's raised brow must have made you realize the tangent you had embarked on, because you snapped your mouth shut. You cleared your throat nervously and shifted on your feet.

Simon was the tiniest bit entertained. "And how's your Nan now?" He asked.

"Oh, much better." You said with a smile. "'Course, that was four years ago... she- she's alive, I mean! God, that sounded morbid, didn't it?"

Simon huffed out a laugh, before he stepped to the side and nodded his head towards the inside. "C'mon in - you came out this way, might as well chat. Could maybe use a house-sitter, too."

You muttered a quick 'thanks' and stepped inside, immediately taking note of how pristine and bare the home was. No decorations, only dark grey furniture with darker accents... the closest thing to decor was probably the mauve throw blanket over the back of the sofa.

"You like cleaning?" You speculated, following Simon into the kitchen.

"Not home enough to get it dirty." He replied nonchalantly, seating himself at the breakfast nook. He took a sip from his mug as he shoved a hand in his sweatshirt pocket. "Coffee?"

"Oh, no thanks." You shook your head politely. "Not now, anyways. I'll be up all-"

You cut your reasoning short when you spotted Riley, sitting still by Simon's feet. "Oh, hello!" You chirped, lowering yourself down to your knees and reaching your knuckles towards her, palm-up. "You must be Riley!"

She hesitated, then sniffed your knuckles, huffed, sniffed again, and thumped her tail slowly. She tilted her head back and looked at Simon with a questioning glance.

He chuckled, rubbing between her ears. He watched as you fished a small baggie from your pocket, taking out one of the lumpy, golden balls from the contents. You held it up for Simon to see.

"Peanut butter bacon cookie." You said, and Riley sniffed the air between her and the treat. "No sugars, no preservatives. Picked some up from the daycare on the way here."

Simon nodded once. "You can give-"

Before he could finish, Riley flawlessly snatched the cookie from between your fingers, downing it in a few bites. She licked her lips and stared at you as you laughed.

"Where are your manners?!" You said, poking her side. She followed your finger with her nose, searching for another treat.

You looked back at Simon. "I hope that was alright."

Simon shrugged, though he silently scolded Riley for accepting something from a stranger so quickly. "She'll survive."

Over the next hour - which was twice as long as he had entertained anyone that day - Simon listened to you ramble about your qualifications. Except, you didn't mention reviews, awards, or self achievements. You talked about your family dogs (the two pitbulls, Rowena and Charlemagne, and the golden retriever, Donald). You described the time you took care of your neighbor's schnauzer and home when she had to make a last minute trip to Berlin for two weeks. You talked about the best trails for dogs based on the texture of the ground and the environment (the younger dogs liked Swan's trail more, due to the thicker, woody area; older ones seemed to like Ellington park, where it was more of a suburban area with smoother paths). You rattled on about how that damn husky in the apartment across from you is always yelling, and how you really should invest in some noise-cancelling headphones.

Simon listened to every word you said. You seemed to know more than just how to walk a dog - it was almost as if you knew their language. You didn't just live with them, you cared about their personalities and preferences. He had a subconscious appreciation for how you regarded them - despite trying to keep up the act thay he was unhappy about needing a dog-sitter, he liked you.

And clearly, so did Riley. She was laying at Simon's feet, completely relaxed, eyes flitting between you and your hand movements as you spoke. You would occasionally look down to her, as if you were letting her know that she was also a part of the conversation, and she would lift her head ever so slightly and stare back - like she was listening.

"- and she decided that the day before my biochemistry exam, she was going to take her frustration out on my notes! Papers everywhere, even my sticky notes were torn up! You'd think she had a personal vendetta against me, wouldn't you?" You looked down at Riley for affirmation, and she looked back at you and slapped her tail against the floor a few times.

Simon chuckled, then sighed. "Well- I think you're more than qualified for this, and I think she likes you." He nudged Riley with his foot, who looked at him and huffed.

Your eyes widened. "Does that mean I got the job?"

He nodded. "Don't know when I'll be deployed next, but it should be soon. I'll send you an email with Riley's routine, and if you want to make some extra cash, I'll include some things you can do around the house."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" You exclaimed. You leaned down to Riley, who reached her head out and sniffed the air between your faces. "Ya hear that girl? You're stuck with me!"

Simon chuckled and stood up, followed by you and Riley. "You can expect to hear from me by Tuesday. I'll give you the spare key the morning I head out."

You followed him out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Riley pushed past you to stay close to Simon's side.

"That's fine. My schedule's flexible, I don't do much besides babysit. Also, let me know her preferences, like where she likes to walk, treats, toys, things like that."

Simon opened the door for you and you stepped outside, turning to face him on the landing. "Also - glad you didn't go with Mitchell. Bloke's a fraud."

Simon's brow raised as he leaned against the door. "S'cuse me?"

"Daniel Mitchell. Saw him on your piece of paper there." You replied, making Simon look down at the crumpled list of interviewees in his hand. "He was NOT dog-walker of the month - in fact, he was turned away when he applied to work at the daycare. He treated the dogs like they were cats, for gods sake! Said they don't actually need to be walked n' you can just let them in the backyard for a few minutes. He's out of his head!"

You sighed, tugging your keys out of your flannel pocket. "Anyways, I should get going. I'll look out for your email!" You turned and departed down the walkway, not sparing Simon a second glance as you left him in the doorway. "See you soon!"

He watched you climb into your small car, returning the wave you gave him before you pulled out of his driveway and disappeared down the street. Simon felt an odd stillness in his home - you had came and went like a storm, and the only evidence that you were ever here was the small baggie of peanut butter and bacon cookies on the kitchen table. He sighed, closing his front door and looking down at Riley.

"She's either gonna be the best, or the worst." He said, running a hand down his face.

Riley let out a groan, which turned into a high-pitched growl. She shifted her weight back and forth on each foot anxiously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Want t' go see Johnny?" He asked. She barked at the familiar name, running to where her leash hung in the closet.

He supposed it was about time. He hadn't seen his team since she was sent home. He knew she was probably aching to see someone other than him right now, and he was honestly going a little stir crazy himself, after spending so much time in the normal, civilian world.

He moved next to her, grabbing the leash and snapping it to her collar. She immediately ran back to the door and waited for him to open it, and he laughed.

"A'right, a'right... but no tackling Price this time. Nearly took out a few of his teeth last time, ya ninny."

Next ->

[novvabee]

Hi,

Could you do a romantic poly!marauder (without peter) x reader where they are in a established relationship and maybe James (I just imagine it coming for him) having baby fever and dropping hint at it to make the others want to a start a family ?

omg! I totally can see James wanting a family like straight away, but the others are kind of hesitant. Hope this fits your vision ❤️

Oh baby, baby fever

summary: james wants a baby

cw: suggestive? talk about starting a family

James had been more needy and cuddly in the past couple of days. He was holding you closer, tighter to his chest in the mornings, being incredibly sweet. And this is James we’re talking about. He normally treated you like royalty, but he had somehow stepped it up after spending the day at work with you.

You had been a nanny for a family for about a year now, and you were loving the job. The family was so kind and generous, and they often felt like an extension of your own family. The children were no different. They were the sweetest kids with the most patience and understanding that you had ever seen in a child. There was a boy, Liam, who was 5, and a little girl named Ruth, 4. They were the reason you loved your job, getting to see them and care for them was the best job you could have ever asked for.

Two days ago, you had planned a trip to the zoo for the two, and were so excited to spend the whole day with them. James, who had the day off, offered to come with. He argued that it would be better to have two adult sets of eyes to watch over the children, safer, and you agreed. You didn’t know how the children would take it at first, him being a stranger, but just like everyone else seemed to, they took to him instantly.

Liam was so happy to have a boy to rough around with (though james was about 3 and a half feet teller and much, much stronger) and Ruth seemed to develop a bit of a crush, having James tie her pink sparkly shoes, hold his hand to cross the street, listen to her jokes and animal facts she had learned, and hold her favorite stuffed animal when she got tired of holding it herself.

James never once complained. He played and laughed with the kids, he carried both, one in each arm, whenever they asked, he bought them each a toy from the gift shop with his own money when they asked. He was doing amazing.

There was a different side to James that you saw. You were used to the kindness and warmth of him, but this was different. He was so gentle with them, it came so easy to him. You noted the moments he would get down to their level to hear them properly, to make sure they felt heard even though they were mostly talking nonsense or silly kid things. He lifted them up to see the animals without them having to ask, he just knew they wouldn’t be about to see over the fence. He made sure they had water and snacks whenever they wanted them.

It took a lot of pressure and stress off of you, put some ideas into your head… you thought that he would make a great dad.

And it seems, James had the same thoughts. The next day he dropped his first hint. All four of you and your boys were lounging about on the couch and watching movies. The day was quite glum out and you all wanted to curl up and use each other for warmth. You were curled into Remus’s side, James laying on you, his head on your chest and body between your legs, Sirius’s head in Remus’s lap. You were a big puddle of happiness. While watching a particularly boring part of the movie, James began running his hands along your sides, under your shirt. You didn’t mind, his hands were always so warm and soft. It gave you goosebumps in the best way. He moved his hands from your sides to your stomach, right under your belly button. He was dragging his fingers along your bare skin before looking at your stomach and kissing it. He laid his head back down and watched the move like nothing, continuing to rub your sides, but you knew what he was after. You knew what he was thinking and why. 

The next hint was dropped while you were all in the kitchen. Remus finishing cooking dinner for you, and the three of you waiting patiently at the table. You had somehow stumbled into the conversation of which teachers you had crushes on when you were younger. 

“Oh come on, Minnie had that authoritative thing going for her.” Sirius confidently announced over the noise of the kitchen.

“McGonagall? Sirius, what is wrong with you?” Remus looked over from the stove, baffled. You giggled and went to stick up for Sirius.

“I don't know,” you joked “She had sort of a milf vibe don't you think?”

The boys all laughed. James replied with a smirk from across the table“You’d know all about that Y/N, wouldn’t you?”

You tilted your head at him and furrowed your brows but chuckled “What do you mean Jamesie?”

“I just mean,” he starts, Remus serving you and Sirius both plates, “It takes one to know one.”

You all started laughing heartily at his comment.

“James mate, I think she’s lacking the main component for that.” Sirius teased.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“She's not a mother.” 

“She could be,” James said slyly, a smirk cutting across his face.

“Woah woah” Remus said at the same time Sirius laughed a “What are you planning Potter?” you just laughed, you knew exactly what he was getting at. You were letting him have his fun before the seriousness sets in, before that very real, very important discussion happens. 

The next hint was dropped during game night. You had all decided to play a few games like Overcooked and Mario Party. It was quite a fun night full of swearing and playful anger. It was a good outlet to yell at each other without it being serious or mean in any way. A great way to let out all of your competitive energy. You were playing a round of Mario Party and losing, bad. Every mini game the boys seemed to team up on you. “Fuck me!” you let out.

James took this as his sign to slide in behind you and wrap his arms around you “You know that can be arranged, love.” he drawled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. 

Remus and Sirius shared a look. “What’s gotten into him?” Sirius asked.

“He wants to have a baby.” you explained. You weren’t sure how the other boys hadn’t picked up on it. It wasn’t exactly something that  you had all talked about yet, you just liked being together, the four of you, having fun and sharing a life with each other. You weren't sure about… a baby. 

The whole room turned attention to James, who seemed to have turned shy. “I just-,” he started, “I think that… Y/N would make a wonderful mother, and I think I would be a pretty good dad? And I love children, I want one. I’m not saying, I mean, I-I don’t know…” He finished, unconfident and a little deterred.

You sighed, sitting up and readjusting to sit in his lap, facing him. “Jamie baby,” You said, taking his face in your hands, “look, you would be an amazing dad, the best dad in the world. But honey, I don’t think we are all ready for that right now.” you looked over to Sirius and Remus for agreement, they nodded and encouraged you to keep going. “James, we’re still really young. And I know you had a lot of fun with the kids I nanny, but that is different. Those are someone else's kids. Kids that we can have fun with and do fun things with them and then send them on their way back home where they scream and cry and throw tantrums. They aren’t always so perfect. And you’ve never had to change their diapers or deal with them when they're sick and when they are inconsolable. It was fun, but there is a whole other side to parenting, a hard and serious one.” Sirius opened his mouth to make a comment at that but Remus nudged him in the ribs and shook his head. “So baby, I am not saying no. But I am saying not right now. Is that understandable?” you asked.

James looked at you and nodded, you could tell he knew it wasn't the right time, but deep down that is something he wants. You kissed his cheek to try and cheer him up a bit, you know he would need a little bit to be sad, but that he would inevitably come around.

Remus, noticing that James was still upset, came up with a proposition. “How about we work our way up? We start small and then see where we are after. What if we get a cat or a dog?” He suggests.

Sirius squinted his eyes and said “How about a plant?”

James chuckled, the sound making your heart feel less heavy. “I would like a cat…”

“Damnit” Sirius said under his breath.

[ahqkas]

hi!! I saw your post of the bat boys s/o wearing their merch and I loved it!!! How do you think they’d react seeing their s/o wearing another persons merch?? (Ex: Jason’s s/o wearing nightwing merch, and so on)

♯ THE COLOR GREEN

— gn!reader, angst for bruce, cursing + lmk if more

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT WAS AN ORDINARY EVENING IN WAYNE MANOR, FULL OF THE USUAL SILENCE that only the sprawling estate could provide. bruce had just finished a late-night meeting with gotham’s most influential philanthropists. it had been a long, tiring day, but the sense of duty still lingered within him. he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest properly until he checked in on gotham’s nighttime operations, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of peace.

as he made his way into the living room, he was expecting to find you curled up on the couch with a book or perhaps watching your latest show. what he wasn’t expecting, though, was the sight that greeted him when he walked in: you were standing by the window, looking out at the snowy white picture, dressed casually in a loose-fitting black shirt with a bright blue nightwing logo sprawled across it.

the symbol—the iconic bird, a badge that he associated so deeply with dick grayson, his former partner—was unmistakable. his heart skipped a beat, the rush of emotions coming so quickly that he barely had a chance to process it. he froze, just standing there in the doorway, his mind suddenly racing.

nightwing.

bruce had never expected this. sure, dick was well-known in gotham, a hero in his own right, with the same sense of justice that ran through batman’s veins. but to see his former robin’s symbol—nightwing’s symbol—worn so casually by someone he cared about? it struck a chord in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

dick grayson had been more than just a sidekick, more than a name in a costume. he had been bruce’s right hand for years, a trusted confidant, and at one point, like a son to him.

now, here bruce stood, watching the emblem of that very relationship—a reminder of the past he still struggled to come to terms with—on your chest.

his heart clenched as he realized that you, someone he had opened up to in ways he never had with others, didn’t know the full weight of that symbol. you didn’t know the stories tied to it, the sacrifices made, or the heartache that had followed dick’s departure from Gotham. bruce felt an uncomfortable mix of protectiveness, jealousy, and vulnerability that he wasn’t used to confronting. how could he explain this to you? how could he put into words what seeing that logo meant to him without revealing too much, too soon? the thought of you innocently wearing it as a mere fan seemed almost like an intrusion into something he had kept buried for so long.

his first instinct was to say something, but he didn’t know exactly how.

you looked over at him, a warm smile spreading across your face as you noticed him standing there. “hey, love! look at this cool shirt i got today. i couldn’t resist. nightwing’s awesome, right?”

bruce’s jaw clenched. his chest felt tight, and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. there was no malice in your voice, no hint of anything other than innocent admiration for a hero you respected.

you didn’t know the intricacies of the bond between them, how deeply it ran, or the strain it had caused over the years. you didn’t know that dick grayson wasn’t just nightwing, he was bruce’s family.

you saw the look on his face, the way his gaze had darkened. the smile faltered from your lips, and you hesitated, clearly sensing the change in his mood. “bruce?”

he took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. stepping further into the room, his eyes never left the logo that felt so out of place on you. he needed to keep his voice steady. this wasn’t your fault. you didn’t know.

“i—” he cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “you like nightwing?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “yeah, i’ve seen him patrol the city a few times, and i’ve read some cool stories about him. he’s really impressive.”

he tried to hold onto his composure, but his mind was running on autopilot, flicking through memories of dick’s training, their time together as batman and robin, the way things had fractured between them. but it was hard to keep all that inside when it was standing right in front of him, so public, so casual.

bruce couldn’t explain himself to you, not at this moment, but you somehow understood. his life wasn’t, wasn’t bright.

( note! as much as i’d like to write & see jealous bruce , this is smth more of what i think he’d react as )

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS A QUIET AFTERNOON IN DICK’S APARTMENT, the kind of lazy day you two rarely got to share. the winter sun streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a pale glow. he sat cross-legged on the couch, aimlessly flipping through a book, while you wandered around the kitchen. you’d been busy unpacking a bag from your recent shopping trip, chatting casually about the little finds you’d picked up.

his attention drifted back to you when he heard the sound of your laughter, a bright, melodic note that never failed to pull him in. it was the kind of laugh that made the world feel a little lighter, even when he didn’t know the reason behind it yet. he glanced over the back of the couch, his book forgotten, as you stood near the kitchen counter, hands rummaging through one of the shopping bags you’d brought home. the mischievous glint in your eyes was impossible to miss, and your lips curved into a playful smile that immediately piqued his curiosity. “i found something you’re going to love—or maybe hate,” you teased, the of your voice dancing somewhere between innocent and deliberately provocative, the kind of tone you used when you knew you were about to get a reaction out of him.

dick grinned and closed his book, leaning over the back of the couch to catch sight of you. “oh? what’d you find?”

you turned around, your eyes alight with a mischievous glint that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. in your hands, you held up a black hoodie, the fabric loose and casual, but what caught his attention—what stopped him mid-breath—was the bold crimson logo splashed across the front. the angular design, sharp and unmissable, was instantly recognizable: the unmistakable insignia of the red hood. you tilted your head slightly, watching his reaction like a cat that had just dropped a mouse at its owner’s feet, the corners of your mouth tugging into an impish smile as if daring him to say something.

your boyfriend froze for half a second, his brain catching up with what he was seeing. the sight of you holding that hoodie—with jason’s symbol—sent a whirl of conflicting emotions through him. amusement bubbled up first, chased quickly by a flicker of irritation, and finally, something quieter but no less present: a faint pang of jealousy.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, his tone light but with a slight edge of disbelief.

you shrugged innocently, clearly enjoying his reaction. “what? it’s cool. don’t you think it’s cool?” you held it up to yourself and struck a mock pose, the red logo standing out starkly against your figure.

dick let out a laugh, though it carried more incredulity than humor, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “oh, it’s something, all right,” he said, the words laced with mock offense as he stood up and made his way toward you. his movements were casual, but there was a certain energy behind them—curiosity tinged with disbelief. once he reached you, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as if sizing up the offending hoodie. his blue eyes flicked between your amused expression and the bold red symbol stretched across the fabric. “but red hood? really?” asking, his voice tinged with exaggerated disbelief, the way someone might react to finding out their favorite band had been passed over for a one-hit wonder.

you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by his tone. “what’s wrong with red hood? i mean, sure, he’s a bit . . . extreme. but you’ve got to admit, he’s kind of badass.”

he tilted his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. extreme was putting it mildly, he thought, but he kept that to himself. instead, he decided to lean into humor, a tried-and-true tactic. “oh, yeah. nothing says ‘badass’ like reckless decisions and questionable moral judgment,” he quipped, smirking.

you rolled her eyes, playfully tossing the hoodie at him. “oh, come on, dick. it’s just a hoodie. don’t be such a snob.”

he caught it effortlessly, the fabric flopping against his chest before he held it up at arm’s length like it might contain some hidden offense. his fingers brushed over the bold crimson logo, his expression a mix of mock scrutiny and genuine disbelief. he tilted his head slightly, inspecting the hoodie as if it might reveal some secret about why you had chosen this of all things. “a hoodie that glorifies a guy who spends half his time breaking the rules i try to uphold,” he muttered under his breath, the faintest edge of exasperation slipping into his tone. straightening, he lifted the hoodie higher, letting it unfurl completely before glancing at you with an exaggerated look of betrayal. “seriously? you could’ve picked nightwing merch,” he said, louder this time, his voice tinged with feigned indignation. “that guy’s way cooler.”

there was a pause, and then he added with a smirk, “better taste in colors, too.”

your laughter filled the room, light and carefree. “oh, please. nightwing? he’s fine, i guess, but red hood has this whole rogue antihero thing going on. it’s appealing!”

“appealing? over nightwing? i’m wounded.”

you shook your head, still grinning as you started putting away the rest of your shopping. “don’t take it personally, babe. it’s just merch. besides, i think the red looks good on me.”

he’d find a way to subtly convince you to pick up some nightwing merch next time.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD HAD SEEN A LOT OF STRANGE THINGS IN HIS LIFE. he’d fought crime bosses, faced off against costumed lunatics, and clawed his way back from the dead. but nothing—not even his years in gotham—had prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he walked into your apartment that afternoon.

he’d let himself in, as he often did when you two had made plans and you hadn’t responded to his text confirming he was on his way. you trusted him with the spare key, and honestly, the thought of you trusting him enough to hand it over always softened the rough edges of his otherwise sharp side. your apartment was your sanctuary, and letting him into it was no small thing.

just like you did with your heart.

the first thing he noticed when he stepped inside was the faint sound of music coming from your living room. it was something upbeat, probably one of those rock playlists you put on when you cleaning or decorating. the second thing he noticed was you—standing in front of the coffee table, carefully balancing a steaming mug in one hand while trying to place a stack of books on the shelf with the other.

it was the third thing that made him stop dead in his tracks.

the bright, unmistakable “RR” emblem of red robin blazoned across the front of your oversized hoodie.

jason blinked, his brain stumbling over itself as he processed the sight in front of him. no way. no. this can’t be happening. his jaw tightened, and for a split second, he wondered if he’d somehow walked into an alternate universe, one where betrayal came wrapped in cozy fleece and gotham’s greatest insult wasn’t the joker, but that emblem. the bright, unmistakable initials burned into his eyes like a neon sign mocking him, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of something in his chest—was it betrayal? jealousy? he wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear: this moment would haunt him forever.

“hey, jay!” you called over your shoulder when you noticed him, your voice light and cheerful, completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster you’d just sent him on. you turned to face him fully, the emblem on the hoodie practically shining under the warm light of your apartment. “you’re early! i was just finishing tidying up.”

your boyfriend stood frozen in place, his mouth slightly open as he tried to process the betrayal—no, the travesty—before him. the love of his life. the love of his life. wearing tim drake’s merch.

his jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “what the hell are you wearing?”

your brows furrowed in confusion, and you glanced down at yourself as if to check for an obvious stain or tear. when your eyes landed on the red robin logo, you looked back up at him, completely unbothered. “what? you don’t like it?” you tugged on the hem of the hoodie. “i thought it was cute.”

jason let out a disbelieving laugh, the kind that came out when you couldn’t quite believe the universe had conspired to humiliate you this thoroughly. “cute? you think that’s cute?”

your confusion deepened, and you tilted your head at him, the way you always did when you thought he was being dramatic. “yeah, it’s cute. i got it at that pop-up merch store downtown. they had this whole gotham vigilante theme—nightwing, red hood, batgirl, even batman. but i liked this one the most. the colors are nice.”

he stared at you, his mind a chaotic swirl of indignation and disbelief. you could’ve picked anyone else. anyone. you could’ve gone with nightwing—sure, it would’ve stung a little, but he could’ve handled it. even batman would’ve been tolerable, if only because of the begrudging respect he still held for the older man. but red robin? tim drake? of all people?

“you’re telling me that you went out, saw that, and thought, ‘yeah, this is the one’?”

“yeah,” you replied with your tone still casual, though you were starting to pick up on his agitation. “what’s the big deal? you’re acting like i came home with a joker hoodie or something.”

jason hesitated, torn between his frustration and the part of him that didn’t want to see that concerned look on your face. finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “it’s . . . complicated,” he said, his tone quieter now. “let’s just say i’ve got some history with red robin, and seeing you wearing that doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”

you frowned. “history? like, bad history?”

your boyfriend nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “you could say that.”

your expression softened, and you gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “i didn’t know,” you said quietly. “if i’d known, i wouldn’t have bought it.”

jason glanced down at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “yeah, well,” he muttered, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t know. still,” he said, smirking now, “if you wanted vigilante merch, you could’ve at least gone with red hood. he’s got way more style.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face widened. “oh, sure, because nothing says ‘cute and comfy’ like a skull and crossbones.”

he chuckled, pulling you into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured. “otherwise, this might’ve been a dealbreaker.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM DRAKE IS USED TO BALANCING SECRETS. after all, it comes with the territory of being robin—or more recently, red robin. but there are moments when that balance falters, when the personal and the professional collide in ways he doesn’t expect. one of those moments? walking into your apartment and seeing you casually lounging on the couch in a batman sweatshirt.

the sight stopped him in his tracks.

at first, it was the sheer unexpectedness of it that catches him off guard. the bold black and yellow logo of the bat-symbol stretched across your chest, and you were completely oblivious to his reaction, scrolling through your phone with an easy, relaxed expression. for tim, it felt like a collision of worlds—a glaring reminder that you, someone he loves and trusts, exist just outside the shadowy world he calls home. a world where batman is more than a symbol, where the man behind the cowl is a mentor, a father figure, and someone tim can’t escape from even if he tried.

“nice shirt,” he said finally, keeping his tone neutral as he took a step into the room.

you looked up, startled at first, then smiled. “oh, this? thanks! i found it on sale last week. couldn’t resist—it’s a classic, you know? gotham pride and all that.”

“gotham pride,” he repeated, fighting the urge to smirk. “right. of course.”

tim walked further into the room, setting down his bag on the kitchen counter as he casually glanced back at you. he was trying to play it cool, but the sight of the bat-symbol on you felt like a cosmic joke he was not in on. it was not jealousy—exactly. it was more complicated than that. because batman isn’t just a symbol to him. it was bruce. it was his mission. it was his life.

“so, uh,” he began, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “what made you pick batman merch? why not, i don’t know, nightwing? or red hood?” he threw the names out casually, though there was a glimmer of curiosity in his voice. part of him wants to know if you had any opinions about the rest of the bat-family, even if you had idea you were dating a member of it.

you snorted, putting your phone down. “nightwing? please. he’s cool, sure, but batman’s the original. the icon. and red hood—that guy is terrifying. no offense to him, but i’d rather not wear merch of someone who’s rumored to leave actual body counts wherever he goes.”

he suppressed a laugh, his lips twitching. “fair.“

“i mean, think about it. batman’s like this larger-than-life figure, always watching over gotham. he’s mysterious, he’s powerful, and let’s be real—he’s probably way too intense to hang out with, but that’s part of the appeal. it’s like wearing a piece of gotham’s history, you know?”

tim nodded slowly, trying to process your words without revealing too much. it was fascinating to hear how people saw batman from the outside. the stories of the bat looming large over the city, and even though tim knew the truth—that batman was just a man under the cowl—it was interesting to see how the symbol resonated with others.

“you don’t think he’s a little . . . much?” he was testing the waters. “i mean, he’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.”

you shrugged. “sure, but that’s not his job. he’s supposed to be intimidating. he’s supposed to scare the bad guys. i think that’s kind of admirable, in a way. he’s sacrificed so much to protect this city. he’s not doing it for fame or recognition. he’s doing it because someone has to.”

you were not wrong. in fact, you probably summed up bruce’s mission better than most people ever could.

“you could’ve picked someone with, i don’t know, better people skills.”

“oh, like who?” you challenged him, arching a brow. “red robin? please. the guy barely even has merch. it’s like he doesn’t want people to know he exists.”

tim froze for a fraction of a second before forcing a laugh. “teah, weird how that works, huh?”

you didn’t notice the slight tension in his voice, too busy rolling your eyes. “anyway, i’m sticking with batman. he’s the OG. end of discussion.”

your boyfriend shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you settle back into the couch. you had no idea how close to the truth you were—how the man you admired from afar was someone tim knew intimately. because even without knowing the full story, you saw the good in what they did. and that, more than anything, made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to keep the gap so wide forever.

[alchemistc]

It's not something he thinks about terribly often - no real reason to, until this moment, with an arm slung over Evan's waist and a pair of eyes blinking at him out of the darkness.

Maddie and Howie are significantly smaller than Buck and Tommy. They are. There's no denying it. The bed that probably fits the two of them neatly with plenty of room to spare is just no match for Evan's mile-long legs, their broad chests and wide shoulders. Evan's tendency to kick one leg out from under the duvet and Tommy's habit of sprawling are just no match for this perfectly normal sized bed.

He'd said so even as they were turning out lights, voices low as they bypassed the frankly laughable double in the spare room in favor of the master, and Evan had joked that it wasn't like they didn't end most nights practically on top of one another, anyway, so what did it matter if they were a little cramped?

And he'd been right - at the time. In a California king they barely used half the bed - some combination of torsos and limbs always sliding together, heads tucked under chins and legs tangled together, arms slung over waists and pillows shared between them. Six months past the argument that had tipped them straight out of the honeymoon phase and firmly into 'actually we're just like this and that's clearly not going to change' and Tommy can't think of a single night they've actually laid down to sleep and not ended up a sprawl of interconnected pieces.

And they'd made it work, even though Maddie and Howie's bed is not large enough for two 6'2" men.

It wouldn't be a problem, except for the shadow hovering just a few feet in front of a softly snoring Evan - wet eyes and messy hair and a trembling bottom lip that Tommy is sure other people also find as devastating as he does, in this moment. "I sleep with you?" Jee Yun murmurs, wiping at her snotty nose and blinking her eyes like she doesn't already know Tommy would do pretty much anything to wipe the sad little frown off her face.

It's just.

There's no fucking room in this bed. Sure, if she'd had a bad dream and gone to seek comfort from her parents, there'd have been room, but, as Tommy has come to understand, her parents are significantly smaller than he and Evan and if Tommy shifts his weight in the wrong direction the both of them are tumbling off one end of this bed.

Jee's lip trembles.

"Did you have a nightmare, bug?" Tommy asks softly, and Jee shakes her head fiercely, tucking her chin towards her chest, a hand reaching out to dig tiny hands into the duvet. Stubborn, like the rest of her family, a refusal to admit weakness he's been in an uphill battle to stomp out of her uncle for going on a year now. Evan mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, and Jee turns still-wet eyes on Tommy.

"I sleep here with Uncle Tommy?"

Which is not playing fair at all.

When they'd all but shoved Maddie and Howie out the door to go enjoy a long weekend, insistent that it would be easier on Jee if they watched her in her own home, Jee had been ecstatic. She'd bounced off the walls for hours, dragged Tommy around with all the resolve of a child aware she had him wrapped both figuratively and literally around her tiny little fingers (her whole hand could wrap around two of his fingers at a time), insisted on piggy back rides when it became clear that riding on either of their shoulders was just a recipe for bonked heads. She'd tired herself out before the sun had even set, and passed out with her head pillowed on Evan's thigh and one foot tucked in Tommy's armpit, the other shoved under his knee on the couch.

She'd barely stirred when Tommy swung her up into his arms and tucked her into bed, and Tommy had spent a good twenty minutes after the fact furiously reminding Evan that they were not having sex in his sisters bed.

("The biological impossibility of knocking me up aside, you know what it does to me when I see you with kids, Tommy."

"Yeah, well, let your non-existent ovaries quiver with excitement for a few more days and I'll make it up to you.")

The Uncle Tommy thing is new. As in, she's never used it before this evening, nodding off in her seat while she picked at her chicken nuggets, and maybe Tommy had gone so still when she'd murmured it that Evan had actually been a little concerned, and maybe he'd indulged her request for a third episode of Bluey because of it, but he's a grown ass man who can surely let her down gently - sweep her off her feet and tuck her back in to her own bed and sit with her until she passes out again.

Or Jee can employ an absolutely deadly combo of trembling lip and tears at the corner of her eyes and Tommy can cave like the idiot he is.

Tommy assesses the scant space on Evan's side of the bed - knee curled up towards his torso and ankle dangling off the side of the bed, a hand under his cheek as he continues to snuffle in his sleep. No go there. Tommy's flush against him, knees tucked behind Evan's, arm still settled against his waist, and at his back there's plenty of space but if Tommy rolls sideways he's got maybe six inches of leeway between himself and the end of the mattress.

Tommy sighs and rolls. Jee's face lights up. Evan snorts awake and grunts in pain as he gets an elbow to the sternum and a knobbly knee to the give of his stomach when Jee climbs right up over him to shove into the newly opened space between them.

"Jee?" comes the tired voice as Evan shuffles onto his left side to face Tommy and their new company, rubbing at his eyes and smacking his lips like he's thirsty.

"Bad dream," Tommy intones softly even as Jee settles herself between them. There's a sharp knee dangerously close to his groin and a tiny little hand fisted in his sleep shirt and a face shoved into his rib cage, and Evan is giving him that look again.

Evan rests a hand against Jee's back, fingers shifting back and forth across her shoulders while she shifts her weight to find the optimal position. Jee sighs into Tommy's shirt, hot wet breath fanning out over the little spot, and kicks a leg back at an angle that must just miss something soft of Evan's, if the look in his face is anything to go by.

She's asleep before Tommy can count to ten - out like a fucking light in the space between them.

Evan's eyes meet his. It's a conversation they've had in fits and starts for months, now - since the first time he caught sight of Evan holding a baby and nearly had a meltdown in aisle three of Trader Joe's because he'd tucked that idea away years ago.

It's one they really need to have in full. Soon.

Evan's hand shifts, fingers reaching for the bolt of Tommy's jaw, thumb pressing into his cleft and then shifting sideways. "She played you like a fiddle," Evan says, voice soft, grin going wide, and Tommy glances down at the shock of dark hair tucked between them with the sudden realization that of the two of them, Evan is gonna end up being the disciplinarian.

Christ, they're fucking screwed.

He breathes, rubs his face into the pillow, reaches up to cup Evan's hand in his palm, enjoying the stretch of heat across his cheek and jaw.

"Go back to sleep," Tommy tells him, and doesn't fight the pull of a few more hours for himself when Evan sighs and lets his eyes drift closed.

[goldfades]

Joe burrow blurb where he gets baby fever seeing reader taking care of his nephews

thanksgiving at the burrow house is exactly what you expected and nothing you expected, all at the same time.

you’d prepped yourself for a cozy, midwestern vibe—homemade pies, mismatched dinnerware, maybe a friendly debate over the best way to make stuffing. and, to be fair, all of that was true. what you didn’t expect was how loud and chaotic it could get, with joe’s cousins piling into the house like it’s a college frat reunion and his mom somehow keeping everyone in line with just a stern look and a well-timed plate of cookies.

you’re in the kitchen with robin, helping her plate the turkey, when you hear joe yell from the living room. “there’s no way you beat me at madden again!”

robin shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. “he’s just mad he’s not the best at everything.”

you laugh, grabbing the mashed potatoes. “i’ll remind him later that humility is a virtue.”

“good luck with that, sweetheart,” robin says, giving you a knowing look.

by the time everyone sits down to eat, the table is overflowing with food, and joe’s already piled his plate high. he’s sitting next to you, of course, his knee bumping against yours under the table every so often like he just can’t help himself.

“so,” one of his uncles says, his fork hovering over the green bean casserole. “when are you two gonna give us some real thanksgiving entertainment and start a family?”

your face heats instantly, and you glance at joe, wide-eyed. but he just leans back in his chair, totally unbothered, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“well, we’ll see,” he says, glancing over at you like he’s enjoying this a little too much. “depends on if i can convince her to name the kid after me.”

“joe jr.,” one of his cousins says, throwing his hands in the air like it’s the obvious choice.

“absolutely not,” you say firmly, stabbing a piece of turkey for emphasis. “we’ve had this discussion.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, and joe just shrugs, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “we’ll work on it,” he says, giving you a wink.

despite the teasing, it’s impossible not to feel completely at home. every time someone passes you a dish or asks how you like the stuffing, you’re reminded just how much joe’s family has embraced you as one of their own.

later, when the dishes are done and everyone’s gathered in the living room watching football, joe pulls you onto the couch beside him, tucking you under his arm.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “what do you think? could you see us hosting thanksgiving someday? our kids running around, stealing all the rolls?”

you glance up at him, your heart doing that familiar little flip it always does when he looks at you like this—soft and sure, like he already knows the answer.

“maybe,” you say, leaning into him with a smile. “but only if you cook the turkey.”

“deal,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. and in that moment, you can’t imagine a future more perfect.

later, joe’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you sit cross-legged on the living room floor. his nephew, who’s barely two, is perched in your lap, babbling nonsense while you pretend to understand every word like it’s the most important conversation you’ve ever had.

you’re a natural with kids, and it’s obvious. the way you hold his nephew steady while he wobbles trying to stack blocks, the exaggerated gasp you give when the tower falls over, making the little guy burst into giggles.

“oh no! our masterpiece!” you exclaim dramatically, hands to your cheeks, and joe’s nephew dissolves into another fit of laughter.

joe chuckles under his breath, but his heart does this weird little thing it’s been doing more and more lately—this tight, warm ache that leaves him feeling soft in a way he can’t quite explain.

“you’re just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help us rebuild?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder at him.

he steps into the room, crouching beside you. “looks like you’ve got it handled,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re a natural.”

“i had a great assistant,” you say, ruffling his nephew’s hair. the toddler immediately grabs your hand, trying to pull it toward the blocks.

joe doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches the way you interact with his nephew—the way you encourage him to try again, the way you laugh when he tries to stack the biggest block on the tiniest one, the way you look at him like he’s the most amazing kid in the world.

“you’re really good at this,” joe murmurs, his voice softer now.

you glance up at him, a little shy under his gaze. “thanks,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “kids are fun. exhausting, but fun.”

joe nods, his eyes flicking between you and his nephew, who’s now trying to climb into your lap again. something about the scene makes that warm ache in his chest grow stronger. he doesn’t say it out loud, but the thought’s already rooted itself in his mind: he could picture this. you. with your kid. with his kid.

“what?” you ask, catching the look on his face.

he just shakes his head, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. “nothing,” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “just... you’re incredible, that’s all.”

“oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

joe doesn’t press the matter, but later, when his nephew’s napping and you’re curled up beside him on the couch, he’s already imagining what it’d be like to have a little one of your own. and the more he thinks about it, the more he knows he doesn’t just want it—he wants it with you.

[littlelamy]

drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader

you’d been waiting all week for this delivery. victoria’s secret had sent out the official box for your tiktok promo, the angel wings and lingerie, and you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about it.

being part of the victoria’s secret family was still a surreal feeling, even after a few shows and campaigns. the wings—they always made you feel like you were stepping into a different world, like some ethereal being just floating through life.

the oversized box had been sitting on the entryway table for a few hours now, untouched. you were waiting for the right moment to open it, savoring the anticipation. drew was supposed to come over later, and part of you wanted to share the moment with him. the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw you in anything remotely sexy? yeah, you were definitely looking forward to that.

when the door clicks open and drew walks in, his eyes find the box immediately, a smirk spreading across his lips. “finally came, huh?” he teases, dropping his keys on the counter before making his way over to you. he’s in one of those casual moods, still dressed in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, but there’s this glint in his eye—one that makes you bite back a smile.

“you want to see what’s inside?” you ask, brushing past him on your way to the box, fingers trailing lightly across his arm as you go.

“you know i do,” he murmurs, following close behind, his hand gently resting on your waist.

you carefully lift the lid, pulling out the tissue paper, and there it is—the lingerie, delicate lace, satin ribbons, and soft mesh in a soft blush color. the angel wings are folded beneath the fabric, shimmering lightly under the living room light, and the sight of them makes your heart skip a beat.

“holy shit,” drew whispers, his hand now gripping your waist a little tighter. his eyes are glued to the set, his breathing just a touch heavier than before.

“like it?” you tease, pulling the lingerie out of the box and holding it up to your body, the sheer material barely covering anything.

he licks his lips, his gaze dark and heavy. “put it on.”

there’s something in his voice that makes your stomach flip, a hunger that you know all too well.

you nod, taking the lingerie and wings into the bedroom. your hands are trembling just slightly as you slip into the delicate fabric, the lace cool against your skin. it fits like a second skin, hugging your curves in all the right places. the wings, once you attach them, feel light and ethereal on your shoulders, giving you that iconic angel look.

taking a deep breath, you step out of the bedroom, and the moment drew lays eyes on you, you feel the intensity of his gaze wash over you.

his eyes roam over your body, taking in every inch of you from the lace that barely covers your breasts to the delicate ribbons that rest on your hips. he leans back against the couch, his eyes darkening as they lock onto yours.

“you look unreal,” he breathes, his voice low and rough, like it’s taking everything in him to hold himself back.

you smile, feeling a surge of confidence under his gaze. “thanks, babe. i’m supposed to film a tiktok for them in this.”

“forget tiktok for a second,” he says, his voice deeper now, more demanding. “walk for me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the request. “walk for you?”

“yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter, his eyes never leaving you. “like you’re on the runway. i want to see you.”

there’s a playful smile on your lips as you step back, giving yourself some room. his eyes track your every move, the air in the room growing heavier with tension.

you start walking, slow and deliberate, your hips swaying just like they would on the runway. every step feels charged, every movement precise. his eyes burn into you, watching the way the lingerie clings to your body, the way the wings catch the light with each turn.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, shifting slightly on the couch. “come here.”

you obey, walking toward him, but the moment you’re close enough, his hands are on you, pulling you down onto his lap. his fingers grip your hips tightly as he looks up at you, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growls, his hands slipping under the lace of the lingerie, fingers teasing the bare skin of your thighs.

you can’t help but smile, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “oh, i think i have some idea.”

he kisses you then, hard and demanding, his hands roaming over your body like he can’t get enough. his fingers slip under the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down your shoulders as his mouth moves to your neck, kissing and biting his way down.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “i can’t believe you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours,” you whisper back, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently as his lips find your collarbone.

he groans at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder against him. you can feel how hard he is through his jeans, the pressure between your legs already building with every movement.

“take this off,” he demands, his fingers tugging at the delicate lace of your lingerie.

you comply, reaching behind to unclasp it, letting the fabric fall away, leaving you completely bare except for the wings still attached to your back.

drew pulls back slightly to take you in, his eyes dark and filled with raw desire. “you look like a fucking angel,” he whispers, his voice rough and filled with awe.

before you can respond, he’s pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours again as his hands roam over every inch of your exposed skin. his touch is possessive, like he’s claiming you, marking you as his.

you gasp as his hands find your breasts, teasing your nipples until they’re hard and sensitive. his lips follow, kissing and sucking at the soft skin, drawing moans from your lips that only seem to spur him on more.

“drew, please,” you whisper, your hips grinding against him, desperate for more.

he groans, his hands moving to undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself. he’s hard and ready, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

“come here,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips as he positions you over him.

you don’t need any more encouragement. you sink down onto him slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, and you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move.

you start riding him slowly, your hands on his shoulders as you find a rhythm, your hips moving in slow, deliberate circles. the pleasure builds quickly, the friction between your bodies driving you both closer to the edge with each movement.

drew’s hands roam over your body, one hand slipping between your legs to tease your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his hips bucking up into you, making you gasp.

“drew, i’m so close,” you pant, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride him harder, faster, chasing your release.

“come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice rough and demanding. “let go for me.”

that’s all it takes. the coil of pleasure snaps inside you, and you come undone with a cry, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy crash over you. drew’s hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts up into you, his own release following soon after.

you collapse against him, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still tangled together as the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through you.

drew presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as you both come down from the high.

“you’re gonna kill me one day,” he murmurs, his voice still breathless but filled with affection.

you smile, nuzzling into his neck. “maybe. but at least you’ll die happy.”

he chuckles, his hands running up and down your back, gently tracing the outline of the wings still attached to you.

“i can’t believe i get to keep you,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of awe.

you lift your head to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the love and admiration you see in his eyes. “i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“good,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “because i’m never letting you go.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[bunny-jpeg]

. 。・゜✭・mean・✫゜・。.

max verstappen liked to make you cry. it wasn't your fault, you were the sister of his infamous rival so if max couldn't make charles cry then he'd make you cry. that time he hid your favourite teddy bear and teased you for loving it so much as a teenager. the other time he pushed you into a corner and got into your face how something so pathetic shouldn't be in the paddock getting in everyone's way. you remember when he scared off a sweet boy that you were talking to a year before max left for f1, you saw how he stalked to you. you'd always remember it like a lion being possessive over a specific gazelle it wanted to feast on. only max could work you bones between those massive teeth. he loved the waterworks, how you'd sniffle and your eyes would be rimmed a deep red. how you'd wipe your eyes frantically and your plush bottom lip would wobble. it lit something sick in a young max. you learned that even bullies can win prizes and races, get sponsorships and get his way into formula one.

and what turned into teasing from a bratty teen boy turned into an insatiable hunger in adulthood. even now well into his twenties, that front lobe full developed, max still liked to make you cry. except instead of calling you names or pulling your hair, he was bullying that sweet pussy of yours. his large hand over your mouth as he had you bent in half against the couch in his driver's room. you had taken a week off of school to come see your brother, but max got you into his space before you could find charles. and that was when the fun began. you looked up at the wold champion with big, wet eyes. the tears trickled down a little onto max's hand. max replaced his hand with his other one to he could lick the salty tears off of it. the taste made him shudder, it was like tasting sparkling diamonds. the richest feeling he could have only on par with his fat cock shoved into your achy cunt. he continued to fuck you, watching your expressions change with each thrust of his hips. he had to make sure that his leaky cock was stuffed deep in your pretty hole.

the wetness in your eyes only excited him more, he continued to fuck you up against the couch, keeping you pinned under him as he fucked the daylights out of you. his weepy little cry baby.his cock touched the deepest parts of you, he wanted to make sure every last drop got pushed into the back of your pussy. letting his poor cock just batter the hell out of your sweet cunt. he had been with a fair number of women, but he was your first (and only). he wouldn't allowed anyone else to touch and your brother was (unknowingly) his guard dog. charles would never let you date someone, his only sister should be focusing on her studies. not focused on boys. but yet, max verstappen was bullying your pussy and making your mascara run down your sweet cheeks. poor thing looked like a raccoon.max silenced you with a kiss and his palms on your bare breasts.

max wanted to breed that sweet little cunt. see your bottom lip wobble as you tell your older brothers (who thought you were a virgin) that you were becoming a mother to the next greatest in formula one. don't worry, he'd make sure you were nice and safe, of course you could finish your schooling. but you might have to do it in monaco because he wanted to be with his baby. the three of you somewhere safe. you'd be closer to your family then you were before, he'd make sure that you lived a charmed life. as his, all his. his cock prodded against sensitive parts of you and you felt your brain go numb. you choked back whines as he held your mouth once more. let him just get a good feel for your soft, gentle cunt. he needed to make sure you could fit all of him, after all he'd be the only one who'd ever fuck you. you sniffled and looked at him with wet eyes. he licked his lips. you looked divine, like an angel. the kind that max got his claws into and plucked all their feathers off. the sounds of your fucking were messy and wet. you swallowed back all the moans you could, but you felt limp against him. your tears reaching your chin. you sniffled and maintained eye contact and felt the twist in your core. you looked so cute, he had made a total mess of you. you looked so pretty, the center of max's world. the subject of so many fantasies. but as your eyes almost roll back from the pleasure of it, all max couldn't get enough. he'd every way he could, make sure that a few tears slipped out. he was sadistic, but the hunger grew every time he went without. he'd be good to you, just let him finish inside. it's where it was meant to be.

"max."

the world champion loved to make you cry, except instead of pulling your pigtails. his hand was deep in your hair as he forced you up and down on his cock, drooling creamy promises into your soaked cunt.

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, cass & mor being bickering siblings, cass with facial hair, modern adaptions of bat wings aka tattoos, sexual n romantic tension, reader has a big fat crush

Word Count: 5.5k

Part One — Series Masterlist — Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“I hate it.”

Though Mor was seated beside you, her voice seemed to reverberate from a great distance, oscillating from one ear to the other. Your attention was not on your two best friends; their conversation filtering through your senses like white noise. Instead, your mind was entirely captivated by the view of the beach you sat on. The sun was setting and a golden hue painted the skies, its final light skittering across the soft waves of the ocean.

This was always one of your favorite times of day.

There was a specific sense of peace that seemed to settle among everyone as the sun gave over to the power of the moon, a peace that almost felt tangible on your skin, like the grains of the warm sand beneath you. You dug your toes further into its warmth as Mor scowled next to you, her gaze stuck on the horizon where Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys currently ran around, attempting to pin one another and throw each other into the waves.

The topic of conversation was what it had been every time Mor complained over the past week: Cassian’s new mustache.

It had grown exponentially over the last week, now fully formed above his top lip. Even from this distance, you could make out its shadow. But, in all honesty, it wasn’t his mustache that you were focusing on. It was his chiseled, bare torso.

The boys were always very fit, sporting defined bodies with even more defined muscles. But you hadn’t seen them like this in a while: shirtless, sun-kissed, tanned skin, and swimming shorts that created sleek, stark tan lines along their hips. Not since way back in the first summer you all shared. Last year’s break was filled with an internship to beef up your resume, moving into your new place with Mor and Feyre, and spending whatever free time you had with Eris and his family— far, far away from Mor.

The boys had grown even bigger since that first summer. Cassian, in particular, had developed noticeable definition, which you attributed to ROTC and his various sports activities. After all, ROTC combined military training with college coursework and demanded a significant amount of time and discipline. Balancing academics, those military duties, and being a student athlete seemed like an overwhelming feat, but Cassian managed it all. His physique was a clear indication of it.

Yet, despite his impressive build, it was Cassian’s face that truly drew attention. His large, beaming grin had a way of captivating anyone who saw it. It seemed to say more about his character than his muscular frame ever could, making it clear that beneath all that strength was someone incredibly approachable and genuinely good-hearted.

Your attention traveled to Rhysand next. Rhysand always held a certain grace to him, a regal essence of someone born to be a leader, to stand out among a crowd. You’d watched him come into his own in the past few years, watched as he fell in love with Feyre and began planning a life for himself outside of the pressures his father had implemented throughout his childhood.

Rhysand’s usually meticulously styled hair now hung in front of his eyes as he dodged Cassian and went under his arm. He was always a bit leaner than Cass, but still very built, with large, defined muscles that Feyre giggled about every girls' night. Rhys knew how to put those muscles to use, Feyre seemed to remind you every time she was three margaritas in. You didn’t doubt it, even if you and Mor groaned and pushed her further off the couch—and watched as she fell to the floor since Feyre’s balance tended to disappear when alcohol was introduced to her nightly diet.

Despite every fiber in your being begging for your gaze to fall to him first, your eyes went to Azriel last. You’d been fighting the urge, telling yourself that if you looked at him last, your eyes could linger just a few seconds longer.

You were currently mesmerized by the tattoo sprawling across his back.

The design was captivating—an elaborate pair of wings stretching gracefully across his shoulder blades, with their apex extending along the sides of his neck. The wings seemed almost alive, their fine details appearing three-dimensional against his golden skin. The spaces around the wings were filled with swirling patterns that looked like shadows, moving fluidly as though they were dancing across his skin.

The wings didn’t stop at his back; they extended over his biceps and down to his elbows. When he moved his arms, it almost seemed as if he was preparing for flight, the tattoo coming to life with every gesture. Cassian’s wings mirrored this design, stretching over his own biceps and elbows in a similar fashion. However, the empty spaces on his arms were adorned with sharp, angular patterns. Where the patterns on Az’s skin were fluid, like smoke and shadow, Cassians were rigid, sharp lines like that of a fierce fight.

Rhysand’s tattoo was distinctively more reserved. His bat-style wings were intricately etched into his back, spanning from his shoulder blades to his lower back, but they remained tightly confined to his torso. Unlike Azriel and Cassian, the design didn’t extend onto his arms. Instead, it was tattooed in a tucked, retracted position. Besides the wings, Rhysand’s collarbone was adorned with an elaborate tattoo of stars and swirling patterns that mimicked the night sky, with galaxies appearing to shimmer and shift across his skin.

Your eyes stuck to Azriel’s moving form— glued to his every gesture, really.

Azriel was always very cute. Handsome and pretty in a way that made chests tighten. But you hadn’t seen it much recently, hadn’t paid attention to anyone besides Eris, really. Now that you were broken up, it was as if you were seeing things in a completely new light, with new glasses that magnified every detail of the males around you. The reality was undeniable: Azriel had gotten more attractive over the past two years.

It was unfair. Completely and utterly unfair.

And you were completely and utterly overwhelmed by it— more so than you’d ever expected. God, you needed to check yourself, to reel in this strange crush that had begun to bloom like a flower in a new spring. You felt feral. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and you were grateful that your friends were often too absorbed in their own lives to notice your lingering glances.

Your fingers itched to trace the intricate ink on Azriel’s skin. You settled for running the pads of your fingers along the bare skin of your knee, mimicking the graceful movements of his tattoos. The act was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it helped channel the sudden urge to connect with the beautiful art that adorned him.

Feyre let out a hum besides Mor. From the corner of your eye you caught sight of her tilting her head in quiet focus. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment, “It’s not that bad.”

Mor whipped her head to the side, her blonde locks cascading across her shoulder like a golden waterfall. She let out a shocked gasp.

“Feyre,” she scolded, “You can’t be serious.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow in response. “I’m serious. I’ve seen worse. It works for him, I think.”

Mor’s attention shifted to you. It took a minute before you were able to tear your gaze away from the view in front of you— the three boys illuminated by the soft glow of sunset; the delicate waves behind them that collected the remaining colors of the sky.

You turned to look at her, taking in her widened eyes and pursed lips. It was an expectant face, one she wore when she was waiting for important news— or in this case, for someone to agree with her. You offered a sheepish smile and shrugged, pulling your knees closer to your chest.

“Sorry girl, it’s kinda growing on me, too.”

Her mouth fell open and another dramatic, shocked gasp left her mouth. She returned her gaze to the view before her.

“It’s like I’m the only one with taste in this entire house.”

You snorted, turning to look as Mor shook her head in disbelief. Your gaze connected with Feyre’s as you leaned over slightly and you watched as her mouth curved into an amused smile, a small laugh leaving her delicate lips.

“You have a completely different taste than both of us, Mor. Maybe that's why you feel so passionate about this topic.”

Mor shook her head again, waving the comment off with an elegant hand— long red painted nails on every finger except for two: her ring and middle finger. The same style was mirrored on her other hand, currently at her side and playing with the sand.

“Actually,” Mor started, and you rolled your eyes at the tone of her voice, a smile tugging stronger at your lips. “It’s because I’m into girls that my opinion here matters the most.”

Your attention drifted back to the boys who had finally ceased their game. They were catching their breath, hunched over and panting, before gradually making their way back.

Cassian reached you guys first, his steps falling from a jog into a soft walk before he came to a complete stop. He brought his hands to his head, smoothing down the top of his pulled back hair and readjusting his bun. Then, he placed his hands on his hips as a grin broke out on his face, eyes trailing between you, Mor, and Feyre.

“Whatcha ladies gossiping about?”

His voice was still ragged from the running, coming out in a long breath and followed by a deep one. Mor frowned at him, crinkling her nose as she scanned his appearance.

“We’re talking about that disgusting caterpillar of facial hair you’ve forced us to endure the sight of.”

Cassian’s grin faltered. “Excuse me?”

Mor only raised a brow in response— a challenge. Cassian accepted wordlessly, crossing his arms across his bare chest and jutting his chin out defiantly.

“Don’t be a hater, Mor.”

She scoffed. “Hater is my middle name. Consider this a reality check: Shave.”

Cassian considered her response for a moment, lips pursing in feign contemplation. Nope,” he said, a hand caressing his mustache. “You’re just too stubborn to admit you might actually like it.”

Another scoff. Offended and insulted all at once, the presence of those emotions fully present in the sound as it left her lips. “There are many words to describe the way I feel about that monstrosity you’re touching. ‘Like’ is certainly not one of them.”

You tossed a glance over at Feyre. She caught your gaze, eyes glistening with a quiet amusement as she tugged her legs to her chest, her sitting stance mirroring yours. She placed her chin on her knee, eyes drifting back towards the two bickering adults.

“You’re so dramatic. This ‘stache isn’t for you, anyways. You’re not the population I’m aiming for.”

“And who, pray tell, is the target audience? Divorcees in soon-to-be foreclosed homes?” A raised brow. “Republicans?”

This conversation was one you’d heard almost every day since Cass had decided to grow his ‘stache out, opting to only shave his beard. The argument held the same structure everytime. Mor would complain that it was gross and an eyesore, offer a new metaphor to describe it, and insist that Cassian shave it off. Cass would wave it off, act offended, and explain his reasonings once more to her deaf ears. It’s for the indie girls at the festival, Mor, Cassian had whined two days prior, They’ll go crazy for a pornstache. It’s a trend now. Mor only complained more in response, groaning in disgust and telling him she was going to shave it in his sleep.

As the argument continued, Azriel and Rhysand finally approached. Rhys raised an eyebrow at the bickering duo, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. He flashed you a grin before flopping down next to Feyre. With a playful shake of his head, reminiscent of a wet dog, he sent droplets of water flying. Feyre let out a startled shriek and pushed him away, her eyes sparkling with annoyance as Rhysand’s laughter filled the air.

Meanwhile, Azriel approached slowly, the last rays of the setting sun casting a faint glow on his figure. As he neared, Cassian turned his attention to him, desperation evident in his eyes.

“Hey, man, help me out here,” he called, a hand extended in Az’s direction. “Tell her it works. Back me up.”

Azriel gave him a steady look before shaking his head. “I’m not going to do that.”

Mor let out a triumphant laugh. “Aha!” Her eyes glimmered in satisfaction. “Even Azriel agrees with me!”

Cass kicked a spray of sand towards her in response. It scattered in all directions and you sputtered, grimacing as the gritty texture found its way into your mouth and eyes. With a groan, you brushed it off, watching as Cassian’s face dropped and concern flashed across his widened eyes.

Both him and Azriel muttered curses under their breath, the two starting to move towards you. But Cassian was faster. With a swift motion, he plopped down beside you, arm reaching out to pull you into his side.

“My bad, my bad,” He said, his voice laced with sincerity as he tucked you against him, his damp arm warm around you. He gave you a reassuring squeeze, though you still felt the remnants of sand clinging to your skin.

You squirmed a bit, trying to escape his sweaty embrace, but Cassian held you close. Over your hunched back, he shot a glare at Mor. “See what you made me do?”

She squeaked. “What I made you do?”

“Yes you.”

Your cheek pressed against his chest, squished near the area where his arms met his torso.

“I didn’t force you to kick sand at me with your big ass feet,” she huffed.

A new argument arose, Cassian leaning further over your back to bicker with Mor face to face. The more enthusiastic he became, the farther he seemed to shove you into his form. You looked up and managed to meet Azriel’s gaze, widening your eyes in a plea for help.

He understood the look immediately. The corners of his lips twitched upwards in amusement as he stepped forward, knocking Cassian’s muscled calf with his foot.

“Cass,” Azriel said, “You’re suffocating her.”

It took him a moment to register the words. But when they finally hit, Cass sprung back, holding you out with his arms in a movement so swift you blinked to reorient yourself. He examined you with the same observant eye as a parent, looking over your exposed skin as if he was searching for any open wounds or deformities.

“My bad,” he repeated. He gave you a guilty grin as brought his hands to smooth down your hair. His large hazel eyes met yours, widened and soft like that of a puppy. “All better.”

You gave him a look— brows raised and scrunched, a deep crease forming in the middle of them.

“Get outta here,” you muttered, pushing his warm body away from you. But despite yourself, a small grin hung on the corners of your lips.

You still felt Azriel’s eyes on you— that faint warm sensation that filtered through your skin. You met his gaze momentarily, watching as his eyes bounced between all of you. He settled back on the large teddy bear next to you.

“Help me start the fire,” Az said, calling Cassian’s attention back to him. Azriel looked at Mor next, gesturing towards her with his chin. “You too, judgy.”

“What?” Mor paused, hands freezing mid motion of wiping sand off her thighs. “Why me?”

“Because you’re mean,” Cassian said, bringing a hand to stroke his mustache. “And mean people do labor.”

Rhysand snorted. You had almost forgotten Rhys and Feyre were sitting there, quietly in their own world until Rhys leaned back on his hands with a grin, obviously enjoying the argument.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Get up, c’mon.” He gestured with his hands, herding them both like sheep. Mor let out a grumble but began to push herself up nonetheless.

“I’m getting up because I want to. Not because you told me.”

Cassian was in front of her before she managed, offering a large hand out. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Let's go.”

She threw him a scowl, but the act had no malice behind it. Taking his hand, she muttered, “This would be much sweeter if you didn’t look like my creepy uncle Chris.”

Cassian just groaned.

Thank you, you mouthed when Azriel met your eyes once more. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he gave you a soft smile. Something deep within your chest flickered, like a candle being lit aflame. He dipped his head in acknowledgement before trailing after the two.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Forty five minutes later, you found yourself seated around a crackling fire, the sound of Rhysand's offhand joke eliciting laughter from everyone.The night had fully descended and the sky above was dotted with dim, flickering stars. You’d all discussed the summer, the festival, and your plans for the month. It was a summer of living, you’d told them. A summer to sit back and let life do with you what it may—and hope that meant all good things.

The stretch of beach was empty except for your group. Whether Rhysand and Mor’s family owned this area or the rest of the world had simply decided to stay in, you weren’t sure. Either way, you were appreciative.

Cassian was beside you, but your attention was solely on Azriel, who sat next to him. The firelight played upon his skin, casting a warm glow that accentuated the sharp lines of his face. The embers illuminated his hazel eyes with a brilliance that made your breath catch every time he laughed.

Azriel met your gaze, his features softened by the dancing flames, and your heart skipped a beat. His mouth moved, forming words, and it took a moment for you to realize he was speaking to you. You blinked, the spell breaking, and slowly forced yourself to focus, bringing yourself down from the reverie you had drifted into.

“Are you cold?”

Azriel’s voice rolled over you like a small wave and you shivered at the sensation. You looked down at yourself and realized, for the first time, how the night’s chill had settled in. Goosebumps had risen on your skin, more pronounced than you had initially thought.

“Just a little,” you admitted, running your hands along your arms in a vain attempt to generate warmth. The friction offered little relief and you exhaled softly. “I can just move closer to the fire.”

You repositioned yourself, moving to scooch closer to the fire that illuminated your faces.

“Nah, don’t do that.” Cassian said. You turned to find him watching you, his gaze steady, shadows of flames flickering on his features. He gestured back towards the house with his chin. "I have a hoodie in the living room if you want to grab it."

You considered his idea for a moment, then nodded in agreement. It was a sensible suggestion. Placing a gentle hand on Mor’s shoulder, you let her know you’d be right back. She smiled in response, her eyes warm in the flickering firelight.

You brushed off your pants and walked towards the house, your feet sinking slightly into the still-warm sand with each step. The contrast of the cool night air and the lingering warmth of the sand created a soothing, almost nostalgic sensation as you made your way to the living room.

The dimly lit interior welcomed you with a cozy, muted glow and your gaze fell on the kitchen counter. There, amid Azriel’s keys and a variety of Rhysand’s rings, rested a camera.

You took a moment to examine it—a digital model. While you weren’t particularly knowledgeable about cameras, this one was nice; reminiscent of a simpler time. You weren’t exactly sure if it was the design that made you feel that way or the person that owned it: Azriel.

You knew without a doubt that it was his. You could also assume, with a fair degree of confidence, that the camera could beautifully simulate the look of film.

Azriel had mentioned his burgeoning passion for photography two years ago, expressing a particular fondness for the aesthetic of film. He’d said that a true film camera was beyond his budget at the time, but a digital model with film simulation would be an ideal compromise. Rhysand and Cassian had gifted him this very camera the following Christmas. From what Mor had told you, Az never felt comfortable enough to pick up the passion— kept telling her that he hadn’t found his muse yet.

"Hey."

Despite how soft the voice was, you still jumped, placing the camera back down on the counter as you turned to face Azriel. He always had an uncanny ability to move silently, almost as if he emerged from the shadows themselves. It was unnerving at first, but there was a certain comfort found in his stealth now. His presence wasn't loud. You appreciated it.

"Hi, Az." You smiled sheepishly. "You're so quiet. It's crazy."

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. Azriel’s gaze softened slightly, his hazel eyes now glowing with a gentle amusement.

“Sorry,” he said, accompanied by a small laugh. He moved around you and made his way to the fridge. It opened with a small clatter, the glass bottles stacked on the door moving with the movement. He pulled out a few bottles of beers.

“You agreed to be the errand boy?” you asked, a hint of playful reproach in your voice.

Usually, the boys argued over every action; who would grab the next drink, who would drive while the others drank— the options were endless. It was often settled with a game of rock, paper, scissors, or a classic nose-goes. Azriel always seemed to come out on top.

He glanced back over his shoulder, a casual shrug punctuating his response. “If I didn’t, no one would.”

His voice was quiet– steady. You studied his movements, taking in the details of his tattooed back that were too small to appreciate from a distance. He turned around, walking forward to place the bottles on the kitchen counter across from you.

"You could be a spy, y'know."

Azriel raised an eyebrow skeptically, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that suggested he was both amused and intrigued. You returned the gesture, leaning forward on your forearms. The kitchen counter was cold against your skin and you felt a slight chill run through your body.

“You don’t agree?” you asked.

He met your gaze through his lashes and shook his head, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. The curls otop of his head bounced with the subtle movement and the warmth in his eyes reflected the gentle glow of the dim kitchen light.

“Nah,” he responded. He popped the caps off the bottles. “Don’t know if that fits me.”

“I think it does. You’re an observer.”

“Careful,” Azriel warned with a playful edge. His voice was smooth in a way that made you clench, tone low and unintendedly seductive. “Don’t make me sound like a creep.”

”Okay, what would you like me to say instead?”

He contemplated. “I just like to people-watch.”

You had to stifle a chuckle, finding his self-description almost endearing in its simplicity. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that actually sounded worse— at least to you. Instead, you reached to the side, grabbing the camera that had been in your hands a few moments prior. "This kind of people watching?"

For a moment, you both stood in silence as you stared at the camera in your hands. When you looked up, you focused on Azriel’s face. His eyes traveled from the camera to your eyes, and in that moment, there was something alive in his gaze—an intensity that seemed to make the room itself disappear. Something warm and comforting.

“I remember you talking about wanting to get into photography,” you said, your voice softening with genuine warmth. With a smile, you extended the camera toward him. “I’m glad to see you’re pursuing it. At least for the summer.”

Azriel’s smile widened slightly as he reached out and took it from your hands, the brush of his fingers against your skin sending a pleasant shiver through you. Your smile grew deeper into your cheeks, pulled at the edges by his very touch.

But when the camera was finally in his hold, something seemed to change in his gaze, as if the weight of the it in his palm was transferred to a weight on his chest. He let out a small sigh.

"Don't get your hopes up,” he murmured, “I haven't taken any pictures yet."

He placed the camera back onto the counter with a slight thud, the sound echoing softly in the quiet kitchen. You gave him a face.

“It’s barely been a week,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Six days to be exact.”

“That’s already a week behind.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a small laugh leaving your lips. Azriel seemed to lock onto the sound, eyes glittering as his hand found the beer bottle again.

“Seriously?” You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms in a playful gesture of mock indignation. “It’s been six days and you’re already considering yourself behind schedule?”

He gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s not just about having the camera. It’s about actually using it. I had high hopes for this week.”

“Sometimes its okay to just enjoy the moment, Az.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with playful intensity. You felt a catch in your breath at the way his expression shifted. It was enough to remind you that Az wasn’t just kind and attractive; he was a suave college boy when needed.

“Ah, but the burden of my artistic aspirations are too great,” he said, his voice low and playful, “How will I ever manage without my schedule?”

A comedian, truly. You raised an amused eyebrow. “And I’m the Type A one?”

"You are." He grinned. "Who counts the days they've been on vacation for, anyways?"

"Okay that's not fair."

Azriel chuckled and walked over to a vase on the counter. The vase, a clear, simple one that had come with a bouquet of flowers for Rhys’s mother, was part of a collection Azriel started—a small yet meaningful tradition of saving bottle caps from vacation. You took the opportunity to glance at his back again, taking in the intricate tattoos that adorned his shoulder blades. The designs seemed to pulse with life against his skin when they caught the light.

“It’s cool seeing all of the details in your tattoos. I never really noticed them before.”

Azriel turned slightly, his gaze meeting yours as he considered your observation. “Is this you admitting that you’re staring at my naked back?”

“Do you want me to be staring at your naked back?”

Azriel dropped the caps into the vase and walked back towards you. He gave you a nonchalant shrug, his mischievous smile lingering slightly on his lips, casual and knowing.

“It’s hard not to stare,” you added, tracing idle patterns onto the counter, unaware of how the motions mimicked the swirls on Az’s skin. “You, Cass, and Rhys have the most ink out of everyone I know. My eyes naturally gravitate.”

“And here I thought my back was special.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks and you quickly looked down at the counter, hoping it would hide the color spreading across your face. Your smile was so wide it almost hurt. You met his eyes once more. They were already on you.

“I will tell you that your wings seem a bit bigger than Cass or Rhys’s.”

Azriel’s grin widened at your response. He leaned forward, resting on the counter and lowering his gaze to meet yours. “Don’t tell them that.”

He took a swig of his drink. You watched the path of the liquid down his throat, tracing it to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. You cleared your throat, laughing softly. “Never.”

He looked at you for a moment, gaze soft and contemplative. A thoughtful glaze found his eyes, as if he were lost in deep reflection.

“What?”

Your voice came out meeker than intended.

“I’m just really glad you’re here.” Azriel said. His voice was sincere, carrying with it a weight that made you pause.

You sucked in a breath. “Me too. It’s nice to be around you guys. All of you.”

“Would I be a dick if I said that I’m glad you and Eris broke up?” Azriel paused. “Because now you can be here with us.”

You bit back a smile, your cheeks warming slightly. “Maybe just a tiny bit.”

But the corners of your lips still twitched upwards, forming a lopsided smile.

He shrugged, a casual grin returning to his lips. “In that case, consider it thought, not said.”

You smiled at him, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest. The dim light of the kitchen seemed to cast a warm glow around him, making his features appear even more inviting than usual. He looked soft now, and you found yourself struggling to understood why, at one point, you were unbelievably intimidated by him.

Freshman year you would be having a heart attack now, truly. You could still feel her deep down in your mind, beginning to hyperventilate with excitement.

You looked down shyly, trying to steady your racing heart, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before pointing at the beers.

“Do you need help with those?”

“Sure,” he replied with a grin, pushing one towards you. “I can never say no to you.” His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and you bit your lip to prevent your smile from growing even more. Forget alcohol— subtlety is what you needed more of. He rounded the kitchen counter.

As he neared you, he paused, his eyes flicking to your forehead. Placing the beers back down, he reached out, his fingers hovering inches from your skin. You scrunched your brows in confusion, blinking rapidly as his face came closer to yours. His touch was feather-light, so soft it was almost imperceptible, yet it sent a shiver down your spine all the same.

“What—” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

“There,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. He brushed something from your temple, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. You felt your cheeks heat up, a growing blush spreading like wildfire.

You couldn’t help but imagine how Azriel must be with those he loved beyond friendship—how his gentle gestures must perfectly soothe the hearts of those he held dear. The soft touches, the attentiveness, the small actions that made Azriel so uniquely himself. The thought lingered as he pulled away, rubbing his fingers with a small, smile.

“Some sand,” he said, his voice casual, but the warmth in his eyes gave it a softer edge.

You managed to breathe out a thank you, the breath escaping you in a soft rush. Another shiver ran through you, not just from the chill, but from the unexpected intimacy of his touch. You stared at the counter, hoping it would hide the flush on your cheeks and the way your smile made your cheeks ache.

Azriel seemed to have a sudden realization. “Aaand,” he said, turning on his heel and walking briskly into the living room. Moments later, he returned with a small jog, tossing you a hoodie. “It’s mine, not Cass’s, but hopefully it’ll work.”

The hoodie smelled faintly of him—an understated blend of his personal scent that made you feel a little warmer. You took it from him, the fabric soft and reassuring against your fingers.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling as you pulled the hoodie on.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he grabbed the remaining beers.

You nodded, following him back outside. As you stepped into the night, you couldn’t shake the lingering warmth on your temple. It felt as if the very spot on your head held an imprint of his touch, a marker of his fingerprints.

You smiled for the rest of the night.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Part Three

authors note: this series is the only thing keeping me going rn, just two sweethearts with crushes on each other and a lovely beach….and cass with a pornstache 😏

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254 @m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers

[sgt-tombstone]

When Johnny asked Simon to come home with him on leave, he had never expected… this.

Johnny’s flat in Glasgow was a tiny thing, barely large enough to fit one, much less two massive soldiers. They made it work well enough, as long as neither of them minded being constantly wrapped up in each other, always within reach, and neither of them did. Their last mission had gone to hell in a heartbeat, and the 141 were lucky to be alive; Price had sent them all home on mandated medical leave, and Simon and Johnny were taking full advantage of the time off base to reacquaint themselves with each other being present and tangible and alive.

That didn’t change the fact, though, that his flat was only slightly larger than a postage stamp, which was fine for a few days, but he had sensed Simon getting antsy, feeling caged in, and had suggested visiting his parents for a couple of days, if only to get out of the house. It wouldn’t be any less oppressive—the MacTavish family was massive and overbearing on the best of days—but it would offer some reprieve from the near-constant contact and the stifling city.

Which was how Johnny found himself staring down at his lieutenant, his partner, curled up on his back on his parents’ couch, fast asleep, a green dinosaur stuffed animal clutched against his chest.

It didn’t look particularly comfortable; Simon was too tall, his legs too long, to be able to stretch out completely, so his knees were hiked up, his socked feet flat against the cushioned armrest. His neck was at an odd angle, resulting in his chin nearly touching his own shoulder, his unmasked cheek squished slightly where it was pressed against the leather. And the stuffed animal…

Johnny had bought it as a gift for one of his nephews, a toddling bairn who had struggled with nightmares, and the shopkeep who sold it to him had assured him that the little beads in the dinosaur’s tummy would provide enough weight to be a comfort without being dangerous. Evidently, his nephew had taken one look at Simon Riley and decided that the scarred soldier needed it more than he did.

Both of Simon’s arms were wrapped around the soft toy, squishing it against his chest, rising and falling with every slow, deep breath. He looked at peace in a way that Johnny hadn’t seen him look in a long time. They had spent the day surrounded by fussing family members and babbling children, their attentions split between warm homemade meals and whatever trinkets had caught the toddlers’ interest. Johnny would’ve felt bad; he was long used to his family’s antics, had grown up surrounded by siblings and cousins and extended relatives. But Simon had taken to it like a duck to water, effortlessly shifting focus from one person to another, treating each with equal sincerity and devotion, the same way he did in the field. It had been a delight to watch, especially when his mam and sisters had taken advantage of Simon’s distraction to shoot Johnny knowing glances.

“Gonna stand there all night, sergeant?”

Johnny startled, not enough to move, but enough to send his heart rate skyrocketing. He recovered quickly though, too well trained to do anything else. Simon hadn’t moved, hadn’t even opened his eyes, and it would’ve unnerved him if he hadn’t spent the last two years cementing himself as a permanent fixture in Simon’s life and, therefore, becoming incredibly used to his partner’s uncanny sense of perception. Even, apparently, while asleep.

“Just wonderin’ if Gaz’d ever believe me if I told him, sir.”

“Take a picture,” Simon grumbled, his voice deep with sleep. “It’ll last longer.”

Johnny snorted a quiet laugh, already imagining the look on his fellow sergeant’s face. He didn’t pull his phone out, though, just like Simon knew he wouldn’t. These moments were for the two of them alone, raw and bare and soft.

“Let’s go to bed, love,” he whispered, reaching out to run his hand through Simon’s hair. It was tangled from the grasping of tiny, fisted fingers throughout the day (Johnny’s nephews had never seen blond hair before and, as such, had been absolutely enraptured by Simon’s head of golden hair), and he didn’t mention the way Simon pushed into his hand, seeking touch and warmth like a cat. He also didn’t mention the way Simon continued to hug the stuffed animal to his chest as he unfurled his long legs, stretching slightly, his knees popping, before drawing himself up to his usual towering height. His eyes were half-lidded with sleep, soft in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, the green dinosaur tucked safely in his arms as he followed Johnny upstairs.

In a week, they will be back on base, back to their tactical gear and their sidearms and their razor-sharp focus. They will be shipped out to some foreign soil, either sweltering heat or numbing cold, either dry deserts or soaking rainforests, and blood will be spilled, probably their own, definitely their enemy’s. They will once again be hardened soldiers, products of war, and there will be no room for such softness. Which was why Johnny reveled in the way Simon curled around him now, in a bed two sizes too small for two muscular men, a warm blanket blocking out the worst of the Scottish chill, a green weighted dinosaur stuffed animal clutched in two massive arms against an equally massive chest.

He tucked his nose against the nape of his partner’s neck, one arm thrown over Simon’s hip, and drifted off to the quiet sound of breathing, of comfort, of peace.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part II

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

"Can I hold her?" You dread the question. The way he asks it, the way he looks at you, the way you know he's going out of his comfort zone to come to your house, knowing you don't want him there.

"Sure." You put your pride aside, having the best interest of your baby in mind. The little girl is placed carefully in his arms, and it breaks your heart to see just how well she fits there, like a missing puzzle piece.

"She's so beautiful." He whispers, brown eyes fully focused on his daughter—his daughter. For someone who avoided the topic of family like the plague, the concept was still weird to even think about, despite the way the girl in his arms looked just like him when he was a baby, countless pictures hung around his house before they were permanently destroyed by his father in attempts to torment Mrs. Riley.

"What was that, Captain?" Simon crooned teasingly, leaning his head closer to the baby to try to understand the babbles that were slowly becoming more and more clear each passing week. Of course, she was still too young to talk, though the little girl loved babbling out at any given moment.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Shame she looks like you." Your words came out teasing for the first time ever since you saw him again, the banter in your previous friendship coming back for a second as he playfully glared down at you.

"Shame she acts like me too." He jested, the baby's mannerisms very reminiscent of his own. You poke your tongue out at him jokingly before looking back down at your daughter, the strings of your heart being pulled the more you stare at her. The little creature doesn't cry much, luckily, so you have all the time in the world to simply admire what you created— what you both created.

"Look at her tongue stickin' out." Simon pointed out to the baby's tiny tongue sticking out, a quiet laugh leaving his lips at the way she imitated you. You gently pinch her chubby cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead as a small laugh escapes you too. It's not hard for her to steal your heart, Simon noticed.

"Hush, darlin', daddy's busy flirtin' with mommy." He knows he's overstepping, but... it's worth the risk. He wants what you used to have back then, despite knowing he doesn't deserve it. He'll prove himself, Simon promised since the first time he saw you again.

"Just so you know, this—" You point between him, the baby, and you. "Doesn't mean we're together. Not a chance." You try to be stern, though you both can't deny the look in your eyes. Still, you resist, not wanting to be disappointed again. Simon leaving is an open wound that never healed.

"I know." He replied after a few seconds, not looking at you. His eyes were focused on the baby, holding her close to his chest as she cuddled up to him, quieting down from her babbling. He sat down on the couch, one of his fingers absent-mindedly running over the features of his daughter.

"I'm thinkin' of retiring within a year or two, once Makarov's dead." He starts hesitantly, not daring to look at you just yet.

"Do you think the three of us can be a family? I know I messed up, and I'm sorry." He finally looks up at you, though only for a short second before he's getting up again, gently putting the baby in her crib. He gives her a small plushie to cuddle, soft blanket wrapped over her tiny frame. He comes back to you, bare hands hesitantly reaching for yours before noticing you're about to recoil back. He doesn't blame you.

"I'll do anything." He swears, taking a step back to respect your personal space. You look away for a few seconds, arms crossed and a small frown on your lips. The thought of Simon leaving or dying is always there, eating at the back of your mind.

"You're retiring?" Is all you can ask, not bothering to hide the sheer curiosity and confusion. Simon has been a soldier since he was 18— it's all he knows. He has given up his entire life and family— why stop now?

"Yeah. Think it's time to slow down... actually live life a little, for once. I had to retire at some point, yeah?" It wasn't an easy choice at all. He has bled for the army countless times, lost his family because of it, lost so many allies he can't even count them in his head, yet the tiny girl was the one that made him realize enough is enough.

"Interesting." It's all you reply, eyes slightly narrowed as you look deep into his, seeking for any signs of hesitation or lying. You find none.

"I'm serious. I can be a father to her, and... a husband to you, if you let me. Just like you wanted." Just like you told him you wanted things to be. Just like he thought about before breaking up with you after 4 years.

"Don't have to give me an answer now, but I'm retirin' and that's final." He went to grab his backpack, pulling out a folder. He placed it in front of you gently before giving his sleeping daughter a soft kiss on the forehead, eyes fully focused on her as he memorized her features. It's gonna be a long time until he sees her again.

"I'm deploying in an hour." He mentioned, his back turned towards you as you read the papers. His will, updated to include your daughter. Previously, it was only you there.

"Not comin' back for a long while, unless things go well. If shit hits the fan..." He knows it's always a possibility when dealing with Makarov.

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

"Simon." You call out and he turns his head towards you, slight surprise in his features. It's the first time you call him Simon since he came back into your life— it used to be Ghost, much to his dismay, to place even more space between you. He never said anything about it.

"Something to keep your heart safe." You walk up to him, both of your hands holding one of his, placing a hard object in his palm. He looks down at it and his heart almost stops.

The ID bracelet your baby wore shortly after she was born. He nods his head once in acknowledgment, expression growing more determined as his fingers trace the outline of the plastic.

"Come back to her safe." Your hand hesitantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead was against yours. He lets you, and you're both stuck looking deep into each other's eyes for what feels like forever.

"Come back to us." You plant a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go, basking in the slight sense of normalcy, ignoring your worthless pride for once. He leans down and returns the kiss to your forehead, nodding once. He stares down at you, memorizing your features the same way he did with your daughter before turning around and leaving, swearing to keep the silent promise with a newfound sense of determination.

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Taglist:

@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf

[vigilante-3073]

Mouse

Rosalie Hale x Emmett Cullen x Female Vampire Reader

Summary: Bella observes the relationship between Rosalie, Emmett and Y/N.

TW: Throuple, vampire mates, mentions of death and torture.

In the time that Bella had spent as a human while dating Edward, she learned very little about the young vampire who Rosalie and Emmett shared as a mate. Y/N was quiet and reserved, which made her stand out in the relationship with her mates.

Rosalie had an anger that burned like the hottest flame and Emmett was always the loudest one in the room. Someone so calm and soft-spoken didn't seem to fit into their relationship dynamic.

Y/N almost seemed to get lost behind their big personalities, but they always saw her in a way that others didn't. Rosalie and Emmett always had some innate ability to sense their mate in every situation. They gravitated towards each other like magnets and could always be found together.

One thing Bella had come to notice about Y/N is that her love language was physical touch. Y/N was always touching one or both of her mates in some way. Bella was almost alarmed to see how different Rosalie could be when she was interacting with her young mate.

Rosalie tended to be a bit more protective than affectionate towards Y/N when Bella had first come around, but after some time she gradually started to see Rosalie soften.

Bella would always remember the day she saw them all together for the first time. She had walked into the living room with Edward only to find Y/N sitting sideways on the couch with her back leaned against Emmett's side and his arm wrapped around her body, a baseball game playing on the television. Rosalie sat next to Y/N with her mate's legs draped across her lap while she flipped through a magazine. The sight caught Bella off-guard, but then she started to notice it more and more.

On another day, Y/N was walking through the woods after a hunt with Emmett's arm wrapped around her waist and his hand slipped into the back pocket of her jeans. Her other hand was holding onto Rosalie's as they talked about whatever came to mind.

The day after that Bella saw Y/N sitting on Emmett's lap while she talked to Rosalie about a book that she had just finished. The blonde listened to her intently with a soft smile on her face as Emmett brushed his thumbs back and forth over her hip bones.

At first glance, they seemed like they would never fit together in a million years, but Bella had never seen a closer relationship in her lifetime. There was some unexpected gravitational pull that kept them orbiting around eachother. Y/N grounded the pair in a way that was necessary when they got riled up, bringing everything back into focus.

...

Bella learned that Y/N's human life had ended tragically like many of her family members. She wouldn't talk about it, but Edward knew about what she had endured.

He told Bella that he could feel it when her mind drifted to those memories. The first time it happened, he had frozen in his tracks and his body locked up in a way that he had never experienced before.

Y/N had been walking home after a closing shift at the diner she was working at. A car pulled up beside her and a man offered to drive her home, he pulled a gun on her when she refused. Y/N got into the car and it was definitely a decision that she would regret for the entirety of her human life.

Edward had never known someone who had experienced as much suffering as Y/N had. The man kept her chained up in his basement for weeks, he beat her, starved her, cut her, burned her and forced her to endure many other kinds of torture while under his imprisonment.

Y/N barely managed to escape with her life, her bones were broken and the blood loss had made her weak. She ran from the house until her body collapsed into unconsciousness. Y/N thought that she would die in her place on the damp grass, she could feel herself fading away and she decided that it wasn't the worst place to die.

Someone had found her in the morning and called the authorities, she was taken to the hospital and she would have died from her injuries if Carlisle hadn't been working that day. It took almost a week for her body to put itself back together after she had died.

Y/N's death was traumatic and she was never the same after she had reanimated. Y/N was quiet and reserved, slipping back into those dreadful memories.

She was terrified every day, especially around the men in the house and no one could question her reasons. She gradually formed a friendship with Rosalie, bonding over their shared trauma and Y/N slowly began to come out of her shell a bit.

No one could pinpoint when exactly Y/N and Rosalie's relationship had changed into a romantic one, but it had. Rosalie was Y/N's protector and they hardly ever spent any time apart.

Carlisle felt relieved to see the girls finding something in their lives that was worth carrying on for. They had both been through so much and their willingness to create a relationship let him know that they were adjusting to this new life.

Y/N and Rosalie spent every possible moment together and when Rosalie found Emmett, he was brought into their dynamic seamlessly. If anyone chose to question their relationship, Rosalie would be on them in a second.

Rosalie had a ferocious love that no one could ever mess with. She allowed herself to be used and walked over in her human life, the loss of that life made her stronger and showed her that nothing lasts forever.

Their relationship had endured years of traumatic experiences and bloodshed, built on the back of a curse that provided eternal life.

...

Hearing about their relationship from Edward's point of view gave Bella a better understanding of who they were to each other. Though no recognition could be given to their union at the time, they were all married to each other. It didn't matter to them that it wasn't legal, they knew that their bond ran deeper than any laws ever could.

Bella respected the love that they all had for each other, it was fierce and strong like nothing she had ever seen before. It made her look at the other relationships that had blossomed within the Cullen family and she quickly found that none of them were the same.

They may have had similar values, but their dynamics were all vastly different. Her own relationship with Edward was romantic, tumultuous and tragic. There would always be parts of their lives that would never be possible if they stayed together.

Edward had lived for many years before he met her, forming relationships and losing people that Bella would never know. Bella would likely never know who he was before he died, time changes so much and it would likely be impossible for him to remember now.

If Bella transformed into a vampire to stay at Edward's side, she would lose whatever future she could have had as a human. She would never be able to have children or grow old with her friends or family. Eveyone would die around her and she would remain unchanged with Edward and his family as her only solace in a changing world.

Her fascination with Y/N's relationship had served to put things in perspective for her regarding what she could gain and lose in this life. None of the Cullen children had a choice in whether or not they pursued this life. Bella seemed to have tunnel vision on the topic, always worrying about how much time she was wasting.

Every day that passed made her feel physically older, every scrape or bruise on her skin made her feel like her body would just crumble underneath her. Bella knew that her worries were nothing that a teenager should be concerned about, but she had seen what a future could look like.

Bella was staring down the finish line of a marathon that she had been treating as a sprint. She didn't have to rush, she didn't have to make a choice now.

Y/N, Rosalie and Emmett never would have found each other if it hadn't been for the horrific way that their human lives happened to end.

Bella felt like she could finally understand that this choice shouldn't be rushed, it needed to be carefully considered. Bella didn't need to push the envelope and choose a tragic end for herself when she had the luxury of time.

She would become a vampire, but she could definitely choose to enjoy her life as a human for a while.

[anaconamor]

fireplace talks - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: after a eventful holiday dinner, your boyfriend shares his most devoted love language with you by the fireplace.

wc: 1.2k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: EEEWKK okay i literally love this idk why, it’s just so fluffy and warm, ughh… i love the holidays and bf! jude has a special place in mi corazon!! 🤍🤍

“i want to be as close as possible,” jude frowned as he fixed his position, his forehead resting on your neck as his cheek squished against your skin, feeling his heavy sigh as he finally found that spot. his arm was around you as he played with the tiny “j” necklace on you. you felt and heard his soft breaths as a silent air passed.

you both had decided to host a small holiday party in your home, for everyone to celebrate and get together. your friends, some of his teammates, and their family, it was a full house. but it was just those dinners you dreamed of as a kid, no drama just full-on getting along, with a holiday spirit.

what you most looked forward to was the fireplace to which you hadn’t used yet and waited off till tonight's dinner. it had been a funny but difficult task to do, jude struggling with the wood and its attempt to turn it on, hearing small groans and curses from time to time, when in reality all it needed was a bit of gas and old newspaper.

jude had helped you move around furniture and the dining table to fit everyone setting the table cover and its runner, in the kitchen he also helped you with slicing fruit and veggies and stirred the pots. his old rock music played in the back, grabbing you from time to time to dance and spin you as he sang.

yet during the dinner, jude and you were strangers. not intentionally, but you both tended to ensure everyone you loved and cared about felt comfortable and not left out. he did assist with setting the table with the food and extra plates. you greeted everyone as you finished a spicy sauce for the meal, took pictures, and captured core memories.

the evening went from a loud chatter to quiet conversations while drinking some hot chocolate or tea. some of you were inside, or others outside as jude liked to show off the patio he had rebuilt and constructed after moving in. you could hear the tiny kids running as the played tag or hide and seek, or colored in the coloring books you bought for them.

but now it was just you and jude, after saying goodbyes jude had moved his white couch closer to the fireplace where he felt the warmth after purposely turning down the heater. “geez, why is it so cold?” you shivered as you ran your hands over your shoulders. “Don’t know, come here, its warm,” jude said as he showed you the set up of pillows and a huge comforter.

as much as jude loved to be a big spoon, he loved being a small spoon as well, which is why he felt most safe and warm like this on top of you. the room filled with the sound of wood burning and the smell of ashes as it fumed. “you tired?” jude asked, as you had stopped scratching the back of his neck.

“not one bit,” you laughed.

“thank you for everything you did for me and our guests today, i know how much work and dedication you put in for this to be perfect,” jude spoke as he looked up and saw your eyes glow with the fireplace. “it was such a perfect evening, and we both needed it.”

“we truly did, i’m just thankful everything turned out as planned. everyone loved the spritz cranberry drinks, and the cookies you baked, but shh, they don’t have to know they're store-bought,” you motioned with your finger against your lips. jude let out a small laugh and propped himself against your chest.

“what are you thinking now?” you rolled your eyes playfully.

“what do you mean? i'm just sitting up,” jude defended.

“uh uh, you've had this look since our guest arrived and you know me, and i have to know. so tell me,” you pressed, jude shaking his head as he grinned. “i’m just extra thankful for this christmas this year… last year we were barely getting to know each other and i almost fucked that up,” jude grimaced as he scratched his head awkwardly.

it was true! jude and you had slowly distanced yourself from each other after some small miscommunication and you almost ended things because you felt like he didn’t want you anymore. but jude didn’t give up, he made sure to tell and express just how much you meant to him, and since then you’ve been inseparable.

“this year, you’re mine finally, and i get to spend my favorite holiday with you, wrapped up like this,” jude snuggled back and tickled you, hearing your burst of laughter. “i’m serious, just makes me think, this is just the start of something that will last forever,” jude whispered. “i hope you know you’re it for me. there’s no one else i want in this world if it isn't you…”

“jude…”

“i know i may not always be here, but no matter where i am, i’m yours and you’re mine. you have no idea just how much you mean and have done for me, and i don’t know how i can ever repay that. but just know that my heart belongs to you, that i love you, and that i can’t for our future together,” jude declared, from the bottom of his heart, his voice laced with shakiness.

“judeee, why do you always get sentimental with me at this time of night,” you laugh as you feel your eyes sting, your chest warm and fuzzy. “because my love language is physical touch and words of affirmations or whatever the hell you call it,” jude says, kissing your jaw.

“that and many more, hmm,” you run your hand against his back. “you know i struggle putting my words and sorting out my feelings, and i'm still learning how to communicate them, but i’m with you or without you no matter what. you’ve brought out the best of me, make me feel like the luckiest girl, and knowing that i’m with you? i just know im safe and sound from the world... i love you,” you pout, giggling when jude kisses the inner corners of you mouth.

“hmm, you love me?” jude teases.

“no i don’t actually,” you shake your head, jude tickling your side. “okay! okay! i do, i do! i love you thisss much,” you show him your pinch fingers to where jude gives you a look. “that’s not enough,” jude says. “say it, say you love me or i’ll hide your candy stash,” he warns earning a gasp from you. “you wouldn’t….”

“oh i would…”

“iloveyou…” you say stammering and quickly, not liking how he was putting you in the spot. “uh uh, i didn’t hear that right…” jude taunted further, his fingers sliding up your side. “i… love… you,” you said it clearly, jude laughing as he propped himself up and gave you a kiss that had you weak in seconds. “i love you more…”

he was perfect. your life was perfect. tonight was perfect. and in this moment it was perfect.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ the babysitter | choso kamo

warnings: normal! au, babysitter! au, fem! reader, choso loves yuji so much and it makes my heart happy, switch! choso, switch! reader, oral sex (m! receiving), heavy use of marijuana, choso is a dick in the first part, hickeys, very lewd language, breeding, unprotected sex, sex while high, making out, mac and cheese, he whines a little bit, degrading if u squint

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.4k

“For a whole ass weekend?” Choso yelled, slamming his hand onto the kitchen table, hissing at the stinging sensation that followed shortly after. He gripped his phone so tightly that it almost cracked the cheap plastic casing surrounding the expensive tech. “You seriously hired a babysitter through the weekend? Why? I’d do it for free, for fucks sake!” He groaned, grumbling profanities under his breath. He didn’t mind that his parents wanted him to watch Yuji while staying at a hotel for a couple of days; he didn’t. But he did mind his parents hiring a babysitter to stay at their house through the weekend to watch Yuji with Choso. He didn’t fucking know who you were. Did his parents even perform a background check on you? Sure, they had always been slightly relaxed, but did they loosen up since he moved onto campus? For all he knew, you could be a serial killer or a felon or really fucking annoying. 

Choso cringed at the sudden height in volume as his mother yelled at him through the phone, lecturing him about getting over his trust issues and just taking it easy for once. Choso mumbled a goodbye and shoved his phone in the back pocket of his ripped black jeans, his violet eyes staring blankly into nothingness. Did he seriously have to put up with a total stranger for a weekend? At least he could hang out with his little brother, and that’s probably the only good thing that could come out of this mess. 

Walking quickly up the stairs, he entered Yuji’s room and found him sleeping peacefully. A small, content smile graced his lips at the sight, the sound of Yuji’s adorable snoring immediately soothing his panicked nerves. Choso bent over his little brother's bed and kissed his forehead carefully as if Yuji could break at any moment. Content with his sleeping sibling, he walked downstairs and flopped onto the sofa, crossing his muscular arms behind his head. He had hit the gym occasionally, but after getting some comments about his offsetting appearance, he had decided that working out in the privacy of his dorm was the best move; Choso didn’t have the energy to tell the dickhead gym bros to go fuck themselves. Who knows, they’d probably enjoy it. 

The doorbell rang, that annoying cheerful tune blaring in Choso’s ear. “Yeah, yeah, hold onto your tits.” He grumbled, pushing himself off the couch to answer the annoying ringing. His eye peered through the peephole, meeting a distorted image of your face. Choso chuckled to himself, finding the image of your distorted expression amusing.

“Hi, it’s Yuji’s babysitter. Your parents mentioned me?” you yelled from outside, slightly muffled by the thick wooden door. Choso reluctantly opened the door to allow you inside, his gaze glued to the tips of his scuffed Doc Martens. “Yeah, about five minutes ago. They should have told me a few days earlier, but you know, parents…” he trailed off, his deep voice barely audible. He held his hand out for you to shake in an ill attempt to converse. “I’m Choso, by the way, Yuji’s older brother.”

Chuckling, you removed your jacket and threw it onto the nearby coat rack. You shook his hand and gave Choso your name, noticing his hands were cold. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Seconds of awkward silence followed, Choso still looking at his feet. “So, where’s Yuji? Do I get to meet the little guy tonight?” you broke the uncomfortable silence, stepping towards the elder brother. 

Choso shook his head adamantly, lifting his unsure gaze from his shoes. He crossed his fit arms and leaned against the painted gray wall covered with family photos, Choso smiling in each of them, albeit softly. “Nah, Yuji’s asleep right now. His bedtime was an hour ago; you would know that if you knew anything.”

Offended at his words, you placed a hand on your hips and shot him a quizzical look. “Hey man, you don’t have to like me but don’t be fucking rude. I care for Yuji’s well-being just as much as you do.” you retorted, a displeased expression crossing your face.

He finally looked at you and sighed, uncrossing his arms. “You’re right, sorry.” Choso noticed that behind your annoyed expression, you had kind eyes and maybe an even kinder heart. Rubbing the back of his neck with his ringed fingers, he licked his bottom lip in a failed attempt to find his words. Despite his alternative presentation, Choso usually had a very extensive vocabulary. So why were his words failing to meet his lips? “I’m…I’m not very trusting around others, especially my baby brother.”

“Well, I’d hardly call him a baby. He’s five years old.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had a degree in being an older brother,” you smirked, sitting on the couch. The material was leather, no doubt Italian. His parents had some money, but you should have assumed that based on the enormous sum they deposited in your bank account a few hours ago.

Choso flashed you a subtle grin and gestured to the kitchen, your charismatic words breaking through his protective persona. “You want something to eat? It’s late, and I dunno if you’ve eaten already.”

“Sure, that sounds good. I only had some ramen to eat anyway,” you said as you stepped into the kitchen, shrugging as you sat down. I don’t do fancy dinners; there’s too much pressure to finish everything. It stresses me out.”

He nodded in agreement and reached into the cabinet above the granite kitchen counters, grabbing a box of instant mac and cheese. “Kraft isn’t too fancy for you, right? Yuji’ll eat anything, but Kraft is his favorite.” Choso chuckled, placing the box on the counter. “I keep it high up so he doesn’t snort the cheese powder, he’s such a little shit.”

“You’re smiling.” you pointed out, poking his cheek with your manicured finger. It was a simple manicure, only a black coat of polish with purple and red dots, but it really did look pretty on you. 

Choso shrugged, took a pot from a nearby drawer, filled it with water, and placed it on an oven burner. After turning up the heat to a medium level, he turned to face you with a neutral expression. “How cheesy do you like it? Mac and cheese, not shitty movies. If you make a joke about shitty movies, I’m going to punch you. His voice was so low that you couldn’t tell if he was joking, but you prayed he was. 

You bit your thumb and raised an eyebrow, subtly grinning at him. “How’d you know I was gonna make a joke, hm? Can you read people really well or something?” You tilted your head to the side, letting your hair fall onto your left shoulder. 

He smirked, noticing that you were pretty adorable under that sassy exterior. It could be a defense mechanism, and Choso couldn’t blame you. He was being a total asshole earlier, so he definitely deserved it. Perhaps he would get along with you more than expected and approve of you as Yuji’s babysitter. “Yeah, I can read people pretty well.” Choso tried not to brag, but that smirk would not disappear from his chapped lips anytime soon. 

“What do you think of me then, hm?” you smiled and pointed at yourself, your necklace dangling off your neck and above your top. 

Choso pretended to think momentarily as the water finally came to a boil, tossing the uncooked noodles into the liquid. “Well,” he spoke, stepping towards you. Choso propped his arm against a cabinet, his muscular form leaning over you in intimidation. “You’re sweet, but you can be pretty mean when you’re defensive and have a kind heart. Children like you and look up to you, and you probably have excellent taste in music.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, his silver piercing reflected in the kitchen's light. “Am I right?”

A blush dusted your supple cheeks, taken aback by his accuracy. Was Choso secretly stalking you or something? “That was…scarily accurate. Are you a psychic or something?” An uncomfortable laugh escaped your plump lips, the blush still lingering. 

Choso shook his head, taking the now-cooked pasta off the stove. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m just smart as hell.” This time, he flashed you a full smirk, tearing open the cheese powder packet with his sharp canines. Your blush grew more intense, your mind catapulting your thoughts into a darker and lustful setting. How would they feel on your neck, raking against your skin? Would Choso be gentle with his nibbling, or would he become beastly and ravage your neck until it was black and bruised? Hopefully, Yuji was a deep sleeper, maybe then the two of you could-

“Hey, you listening? What size portion do you want?” Choso snapped his painted fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your arousing trance. He was much closer to you now. His nose was almost touching your forehead.

“U-uh half, please. Sorry, I was thinking about stuff,” you mumbled, stepping back to create distance. “Sometimes my mind wanders, you know?” 

Choso grunted in agreement, handing you the portion of the mac and cheese. “I added some butter and milk when you weren’t looking, which makes the cheese powder less dry. It’s how Yuji likes it.” He took his fork to his mouth and ate a noodle or two, seeming content with the flavor. “I like to think that even when he’s a bratty teenager, he’ll still like mac and cheese.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a bite of the macaroni as well. Choso was right. The extra butter and milk enriched the flavor of the cheap cheese powder. “I like to think that nobody really outgrows mac and cheese. It’s one of the rare foods that people of all ages enjoy, like toast or apple juice.” you smiled, taking another bite of the meal. “Delicious mac and cheese, by the way. Can we sit down and eat instead of standing? Y’know, like normal people?” you winked and strode to the living room, carefully sitting down to avoid making a mess over the cushions. 

“Oh, right, sorry.” He mumbled, sitting down next to you. His shoulder brushed against yours, and your eyes drifted to his bicep muscles, admiring his strength. Most alternative guys you knew were slim, but Choos was different. He was really different, and that was fucking sexy. “So, are you in school also? I’m a junior at Tokai University. I’m studying biomedical engineering.” He sighed, placing the bowl of mac and cheese in his lap. “It’s fucking hard work, but it’ll be worth it when I’m rich as hell and can buy things.” 

You placed your empty bowl on the coffee table, wiping the cheesy residue from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I’m taking online classes through a program. I’m studying child psychology.” you nodded, sucking your fingers clean with your mouth and tongue. Choso bit his pierced lip slightly at the seemingly innocent display, blinking away his perverted thoughts about you. You were just Yuji’s babysitter, right? It was cliche as hell for the older brother to want to fuck the babysitter, but maybe it was a cliche for a reason.

“Child psychology, that makes sense. Maybe that’s why you’re such a good babysitter so far,” he observed, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I mean, I haven’t really done anything yet. Yuji’s still asleep upstairs.” you pointed out, taking Choso’s bowl out of his hands. “I’ll clean up, I don’t mind.”

He raised an eyebrow and slowly nodded, shifting his position on the couch slightly. “If you’re offering, I won’t stop you. Go wild.” His deep voice rumbled in your ear, diverting your thoughts to the dirty ones you had earlier.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, you scrubbed the pot and the bowls clean, humming your favorite song softly. Choso remained in the living room, staring blankly as the newscaster predicted the next morning's weather. “Hey, it’s gonna rain. What do kids Yuji’s age like to do when it rains?” he asked over his shoulder, not getting up. 

“Same thing they do when it’s not raining,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm as the last dishes were dried off and placed in their original drawers. “Run around screaming because they’re five and don’t experience fatigue like we do.” you sat yourself down next to Choso again, this time slightly closer. “Listen, your parents paid me through the weekend, so I’m spending the night. Wanna watch a movie or something? I don’t mean to be rude, but I am very bored.” 

Choso chuckled and looked at you with his violet eyes again, a smirk on his lips. “Well, we could do something that would help you relax.” his voice flowed like warm honey, hinting at something much more devious than you had realized. “You ever smoke before, sweetheart?”

You nodded and kicked your feet onto the coffee table, hoping he wouldn’t mind. “Once, when I was in high school. We smoked under a bridge ‘cuz our parents were being dickheads,” you laughed to yourself, fondly remembering what took place a couple of years ago. “I have such a low tolerance. It only took a couple of hits of a joint for me to get high.” A grin remained on your face, the happy memories lightening your mood. “I felt like I was floating.”

“Yeah, weed does that to you. It’s nice, though, right? Like all your worries go away.” Choso stood up, slapping his thighs. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, you observed him walking up the stairs. The sound of rummaging from his room was undoubtedly the result of him anxiously shifting through his nightstand drawer to find what he was looking for. After a couple of minutes, he yelled for you to come upstairs.

“Shouldn’t you be quiet? Yuji’s sleeping just a few doors down.” you whisper-shouted, voice filled with concern. 

Choso laughed and shut the door behind you, opening the window close to his bed. “Please, that little guy could sleep through an earthquake. Don’t worry about it, that’s my job. I’m his older brother, after all.” he dangled a baggie in front of your face, the contents having a powerful aroma. “Behold, stuff of the gods.”

Sitting on his bed, you rolled your eyes playfully at his childish demeanor. “I’m sure it’s incredible stuff, Choso. Better help me relax, or I’ll be pretty upset.” 

“Trust me, sweetheart, this shit will make you float into the sky,” Choso smirked, taking the bud out of the baggie. “Don’t look. I can’t reveal my secrets to you just yet.”

Your hands covered your eyes as you giggled, imagining what he was doing. “You aren’t lacing it or anything, right?”

“Fuck no, I’m rolling a joint. Whoever invented laced shit needs to get their dick chopped off.”

You giggled once more. “What if it was a woman, hm?” you inquired sarcastically, your hands still covering your eyes.

“No woman would ever create something that fucked up, no offense,” Choso muttered, finishing up with the two joints. “You can open your eyes now; it’s okay.”

Your hands left your eyes and landed on the two joints in Choso’s hands. They were smaller than expected, or maybe Choso just had huge hands. “Uh, you’re gonna have to guide me through the process. I haven’t done this since high school, remember?” you rubbed your arm with your hand, silently hoping he wouldn’t think you weren’t cool. Why did you want Choso to think you were cool? You were only staying so you could look after Yuji. 

Choso sat down next to you and patted your shoulder in reassurance. “Don’t worry about it. Even though I’m an asshole, I’m not that big of an asshole. I’ll show you.” He grabbed a lighter from his nightstand and held it to the joint, lighting the end of it like a cigarette. “You inhale, hold the smoke in your body for as long as you can, and breathe it out. It’ll make you cough, but that’s just what weed does. It still makes me cough.” he chuckled, putting the joint to his lips and sharply inhaling. You observed as he sucked in his chest for a few moments before breathing out the smoke, the scent of marijuana quickly filling the room.

“Shit, that’s good stuff,” he mumbled, passing the joint to you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, just saying. None of that peer pressure shit here.” his violet eyes were slanted, making your heartbeat quicken.

“No, I’ll do it. God knows I could use the relaxation. Shit’s been tough.” you sighed and took the joint from his tattooed hand, putting it to your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhaled deeply. Your eyes shot open after only a second, coughing harshly. “Fuck!” you grunted, handing the joint back to Choso. “Ow, my lungs! Well, there goes my hopes of being an organ donor. Fuck.” you giggled, hugging your knees to your soft chest. The scoop-neck top you wore showed off your cleavage beautifully, and Choso couldn’t help but stare. Your breasts look so smooth and round. He wondered if you would let him touch them, graze his thumb over your nipple, and let his mouth suck careful bruises onto the supple flesh. 

“Yeah, there it fucking goes.” he chuckled and took another hit of the joint, setting it down in his ashtray after. His mind started to feel fuzzy, almost soft. Like he was floating on a cloud made up of the finest cotton money could buy. Did you feel this way as well? Were you also floating on a cloud?

Your head began to feel light as a feather, and a delighted smile crossed your face. “Dude, it feels like I don’t weigh anything at all,” you laughed, leaning towards Choso. You observed the bags under his eyes and how his eyeliner was thick and dark, highlighting the golden specks in his purple irises. “D’ya also feel like that, Cho’?”

His name poured out of your mouth, smooth as honey. God, he loved how you said his name. It was probably the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, and he just had to hear more. “Yeah, sweetheart, feeling fucking amazing,” he spoke gently, a blush tinting his pale face at the proximity between you two. “I wanna feel like this all the time, but I have stupid fucking responsibilities like school. Not Yuji, though. Yuji will never be a burden for me.”

You smiled and rested your head on his broad shoulder, enjoying how close the two of you were. “You’re such a great brother, you know that? Yuji’s lucky to have you, Cho’.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Choso mumbled deeply, shifting his gaze toward your pretty and flushed face. “If you keep saying my name like that, I might lose it.” he offered you a crooked smile, his sharp canine poking out. “Got a real pretty voice. It matches your pretty face.” his thumb grazed over your lower lip, admiring its beauty.

“Choso,” you breathed out, feeling so small under his lustful gaze. The way his thumb touched your bottom lip, the way his deep and sensual voice reverberated in your ears. Maybe it was the weed fixing your thoughts, but damn, was Choso sexy as all hell. “You’re pretty, too.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow, tilting your head with his thumb. Fuck, he loved your eyes. They were so big and beautiful, so expressive. “You think I’m pretty, sweetheart?” his hands trailed down to your hip, squeezing the denim fabric of your jeans. 

“Yeah, I do,” you smirked softly, climbing into his lap. You straddled his thighs and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, staring into his sunken eyes. “I think you’re pretty and sexy, Cho’.”

His arms snaked around your waist to pull you close to his chest; your breasts pushed up against his graphic tank top. “Shit, sweetheart. Keep saying my name like that, and you’ll regret it,” he growled, your plump lips hovering above his chapped ones. His hands squeezed your ass bolding, his eyes daring you to make the next move.

“Cho’,” you whispered, entangling your fingers in the silver chains around his thick neck. “Do something, Cho’.” 

“Fucking hell,” Choso slammed his lips against yours in a molten and desperate kiss, his hands squeezing the fat of your ass even harder. His kiss is filled with desire and want, along with the faintest scent of marijuana that makes the atmosphere of his bedroom that much more depraved. Longing dripped from the plush of his chapped lips to the sharpness of his canines that grazed slowly against your lips, teasing you with a tapering sensation. 

Choso tutted impatiently, his lips becoming more aggressive and desperate. It was like his mouth was trying to consume yours in a fiery passion you thought only existed in television shows. Your heated bodies pressed against each other in a frenzy, your hands moving from his chain necklace to lace themselves in his messy dark hair, tugging harshly on the strands. You could practically taste the marijuana on his breath, feeling the thud of his heartbeat in his throat.

Frantic groans left your lips as Choso’s tongue swept across your lower lip, pleading for entrance. You gladly parted your lips, his tongue briefly entangling with yours before retreating entirely. He broke the kiss, his breathing shallow and long. The thinnest string of saliva connected you, breaking as Choso licked his lips. 

The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension in the air slowly fading away. Second felt like hours, passion roaring inside both of you. Choso gave you a smug grin, his hands still glued to your hips. “What did you think of that, sweetheart? Is making out while high one of the best things life has to offer or what?” his words faded at the end, his mouth pressing fluttering kisses onto your neck. Your breath stopped in your throat at the intoxicating sensation. 

“Please,” he whispered, teeth nipping down on the spot just above your collarbone. His voice was so deep yet whiny, filled with desire for you, the sexiest person he’d ever lay his eyes upon. “Please, sweetheart, let me make you see stars tonight.”

You frantically nodded, cupping his cheeks with your hands to crash your lips against his in a passionate craze. The kiss was rough and full of ache, your lips battling each other for dominance and control. Choso’s rough hands gripped onto your hips with knuckle-whitening might, dragging you up and down onto his throbbing bulge. His teeth bite down on your bottom lip, pulling the sensitive flesh while staring into your glistening eyes. He pulled himself away from the foggy exchange and attacked your neck, biting and sucking at every inch of skin he could land himself on. 

Your mouth let wanton moans escape your bruised lips, still grinding yourself on Choso’s lap. Desire pooled in your core, your body rutting itself against him for any kind of relief as he continued to assault your neck with a battery of bites and nibbles. “Fuck!” you cried out, not bothering to control your volume. “Fucking love it rough. How’d you know that?” you demanded, pulling Choso away from your neck by his midnight strands. 

“It was so fucking obvious, baby. You were basically begging me to fuck you with those pretty bedroom eyes of yours.” Choso growled in your ear, his pierced tongue licking the shell. He thrust his clothed erection up against your covered core, forcing you to grind down on the pulsating length. “You feel what you do to me, yeah? You feel how fucking hard this cock is for you?”

You gasped as he dragged you across his clothed member, noticing how fucking girthy he was. “Shit, you’re really fucking hard. I really did all that?” you whimpered as he groped your breasts, his thumb circling over your covered nipple. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, you did,” his voice ached for you, so desperate for release. He knew you felt this way, too. Your pussy was sending him pulsating signals. “God, I need to know how that pretty mouth looks wrapped around me. Can you get on your knees, sweetheart, pretty please?” he mumbled, taking his greedy hands off your curves.

You were on your knees instantly, thumbing the hem of Choso’s sweatpants teasingly. “Don’t fucking tease me, baby,” he spat, pulling his sweatpants down to his knees. You rolled down the fabric and tossed it aside, your eyes locking on his boxers that had a cute little stain right where the tip of his cock was. “See that, sweetheart? Making me pre’ in my drawers. C’mon, hurry up and put that pretty mouth on it.” he demanded, his hand tugging on your hair in demand. 

Your hands pulled down his boxers and tossed them aside, not tearing your eyes away from Choso’s massive cock. It was bigger than any of the ones you’d seen before, and it was freakishly girthy, maybe about ten inches. The head was a beautiful shade of pink, adorned with precum leaking out the tip. “Someone’s needy,” you teased in a lyrical voice, pumping his cock a few times before taking just the tip in your mouth. Your tongue danced around the head and gave it the occasional kitten lick, eliciting a gasping moan from Choso. 

A few more inches was all that your mouth could take, gagging as the head hit the back of your sensitive throat over and over again. Your hand made up for what your mouth couldn’t handle, palming and squeezing on the shaft to make Choso sing those pretty moans over and over again. His grip on your hair hadn’t yet faltered, squeezing your roots the perfect amount so you weren’t feeling any pain. Sloppy, absolutely filthy sounds came from your precious lips as your mouth grew sore and tired, practically fucking your mouth on his length.

Just as Choso’s orgasm approached, he forcefully pulled your head away from his cock. He hissed at the sensation of the cold bedroom air hitting his previous warm cock, wondering if he should just let you keep sucking him off. “N-no, wanna cum inside you. Is that okay, sweetheart?” he whined, spreading his legs. His cock was glistening with your saliva, slapped against his now-stained tank top. “Ride me, baby, want you to fucking ride me.”

You smirked softly and pulled down your jeans and underwear, revealing your soaked heat. “What happened to the tough guy earlier, hm?” you purred into his ear, nibbling on one of his piercings as you hovered above his entrance, his wanting moans and whimpers sounding incredibly delicious. 

“Tough guy went away the second you put that slutty little mouth on my cock,” he grabbed onto your hips, forcefully slamming you down on his cock. The two of you gasped at the same time, a twinge of pain crossing your face. “Now hurry up and fuck me already.” his voice sounded dominant, but you knew deep down how desperate he indeed was. The warmth of your weeping cunt enveloped him, and his lips began to tremble.

“Shit! Fuck, you’re huge!” you cried out, taking a moment for your pussy to adjust to his size. He was huge and throbbing so intensely inside of you that it felt like a vibrator. Shaking, you clutched onto his shoulders and began to grind back and forth. His hands were practically glued onto your soft hips, matching the painfully slow pace of your movements.

Choso grunted impatiently, tightening his grip on your hips so they would be bruised tomorrow morning. “Going too fucking slow, sweetheart. Can’t handle my huge dick or something?” he whispered against your neck, his tongue licking the hickeys he had left previously. His cock was buried inside your gummy walls, twitching and in desperate need of friction. 

You yelped out pathetically as Choso began to move your trembling form up and down on his length, adoring the squelching sounds that came out of your sobbing heat. Your breathing was quicked and paced, huffs and puffs leaving your pretty mouth. “H-hah, Cho’! Fuck, fuck me! Shit, oh my fucking god!” you sobbed, your walls tightening around his cock as he continued to use your body like a fleshlight. 

The sound of skin slapping against the skin was all that could be heard, along with the sound of your wanton mewls escaping your puffy lips. “Shit, you’re such a fucking good slut for me, yeah?” Choso grunted, his face buried in the crook of your neck that connected your shoulders. “Letting me use this perfect fucking pussy, why did I ever fucking doubt you?” he lifted his face from your neck, smirking at your fucked out expression. Your eyes glazed over, mouth hanging open, hair completely disheveled. Just how he fucking liked it.

The head of his cock pounded mercilessly at your G-spot, the slick whimpers and wines you made becoming music to his ears. He knew you were close the way your weeping heat sucked him in, almost demanding that he shoot his seed as far into you as he could. 

“Shit, are you close sweetheart. Me too, fuck,” he sighed, bucking his hips into yours staggeringly and without rhythm, desperately chasing his nirvana. “Cum with me, yeah? Please, baby, I wanna feel you let go for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Can you make a fucking mess on this cock?”

“Yes, fuck, yes! Cho’, oh fuck!” you screamed as your orgasm finally hit you, entire euphoria flowing through every single one of your veins. Your nails scratched and clawed at his back from under his shirt, your hands desperately looking for purchase. Your aching body twitched against his own, his cock still fucking up into your overstimulated pussy.

Choso threw his head back, opening his mouth to allow his breathy moans to escape from his throat. “Fuck, gonna fucking cum, shit! Gonna cum inside, yeah? Gonna fucking fill you up so nicely, shit! Fuck!” he groaned, finally achieving his high. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him as his hot and sticky ropes of cum coated your insides, the feeling of warmth making you feel all the more wonderful.

After the shockwaves of your orgasms subsided, Choso tilted his head back down to look at your face. All flushed and fucked out, the baby hairs in your widows peak sticking to your forehead. But his favorite part was the smile you had plastered across your face, looking the happiest he’d ever seen anyone before. 

“You were so right,” you breathed, kissing his lips tenderly.”Fucking while high is one of the best things ever.”

He chuckled and reluctantly pulled you off his cock, whining as he saw his seed spill from your core. “Damn, I really thought that would stick. Oh well,” he sighed, pushing himself off his bed in search of his boxers. “There’s always next time.”

You raised an eyebrow quizically, putting on your panties. Your sweatpants were probably in the room, but you were too tired to get them. “What do you mean ‘next time’?” 

Choso smirked and sat back down on his bed, making grabby hands at you. “Y’know, the next time we fuck, obviously.” he kissed your cheek as you curled up beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you for warmth. “Do…do you not want a second time?” his voice was soft, trying to mask the hint of disappointment in his tone.

You shook your head and pecked him on the lips, giggling at the cool metal piercing, making contact with the bruise on your lower lip. “Of course I want there to be a next time, silly. You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.” 

He smiled and pulled you even closer to his muscular form, squeezing you like you would run away if he didn’t. “I’m so glad that’s happening, sweetheart.” his voice was heavy and sleepy, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep right next to you.

“Let’s just get some sleep, okay? Fucking takes up a lot of energy.” Closing your eyes, you welcomed the warmth that overtook your body, Choso’s strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

There was a sudden knock on the door, snapping your eyes open and Choso’s violet ones. 

“Choso, can I please get some water? I’m really thirsty.” a high-pitched voice came from the other side of Yuji's wooden door.

Choso groaned and sat up, his arms still not leaving your body. “Well, we’re lucky he didn’t want water ten minutes ago.” he laughed softly, kissing you on the forehead as he got up.

“Yeah, good thing he didn’t.”

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Baby Fever

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You love watching Joel adapt to being a dad so effortlessly. You make it your mission tonight to give him another baby, whether he wants to or not.

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, ovulating reader, dubish-con for Joel but he ain't complainin', cum eating, ball sucking, oral both male and female receiving, cowgirl / riding, missionary, rough sex, dom! reader, slight sub!Joel if you squint, mentions of condoms (wow rare one for me huh--no plz wrap it up), Daddy kink

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It’s probably the first time Joel has absolutely no care for Sunday night football. Instead, you watch with heart eyes as he lies against the opposite couch, head propped only by a pillow. He’s exhausted today. Grunting when he finally collapsed on the couch, sighing heavily as his joints ached and cracked. His eyes are puffy, near closed and fighting sleep. It’s been a restless 7 months for him just as much as you.

Meanwhile, wide eyed, giggly , and conveniently 7-month-old Sarah has become obsessed with Daddy Miller now. She sits in her diaper on Joel’s chest, watching him with admiration. A big curious smile plastered on her face as she bounces and slaps his face with her uncoordinated hands. 

They’re just looking at one another, in their own world. She brings a fat bitty palm on his cheek, watching the way it smushes his whiskered skin each time she rubs. Almost about to giggle with fascination, she instead decides to adjusts herself hunched over his face. Joel chuckles with her. He makes pouty fish faces, and she bursts into laughter each time. 

You watch as her little finger hooks into his mouth. “Ow!” He says softly, faking pain. She laughs again and smashes her cheek onto his scruffy beard. Sitting back again, she just looks down in awe. 

Your heart could burst right now. They pay no attention to you in the room, but you could watch them all night if you could. A gentle, heartwarming thrum tugs at your chest. 

This. This is what it’s all about. This is what your mom meant all those years. You would never have understood her words about family, about love, about the greatest moments of your life being the smallest, simplest ones too, like sitting in the living room together quietly.

And Joel—Joel being so incredibly perfect like this. He’s graying and his grouchy and he’s got bags under his eyes, but this moment makes him the perfect husband. The perfect father. The perfect person you could see every morning and fall in love with every time. It makes your body jittery with excitement on impulse now.

Sarah knee’s forward a little too much, her chunky knee falling onto Joel’s jugular. She laughs loudly as he chokes, his hands coming to grasp her securely from falling. Her bum scootches back on Joel’s chest as she sits up, patting his eyes affectionately. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and blows kisses to her.

The baby bares her gummy mouth and tiny teeth back. She pets his cheek gently, watching him closely. Her little eyes working over every detail, almost like she’s etching him to memory. The different colors and textures, features like the point of his knows and the crinkle of his forehead. Her big head falls forward, forehead bumping his eye again. 

You laugh as Joel squints. Unfortunate for him, she props herself on a wiggly ankle and then completely launches her whole body over his face. Joel yelps from below and starts blowing air into her belly, making farting noises as she erupts into a fit of loud squeals and wiggles. The squirmy wormy fat belly keeps getting gobbled up by Joel’s playful eating.  He lifts her like she weighs nothing, because truthfully she does, and sets her bum back on his chest.

Little Sarah can’t be kept away from Daddy for long, and she immediately hunches over his head again and stares into his eyes. Eventually she settles along his shoulder. She smushes her chubby smooth cheek against his rough, scratchy one. His whole head is almost the size of her, but it doesn’t both either of them. She’s so at home with him so close. 

You wave to her and whisper “Wanna come to Mommy?” with open arms.

She giggles like that’s sooo fucking funny before rubbing her face on Joel’s lips to say nah uh. She sneezes once, thankfully on his beard rather than eyeballs, before tucking herself against his neck and slowly closes her eyes, falling asleep on Daddy. 

A few more minutes pass until Joel can tell she’s completely out. Her body curled up like a pill bug, a bit of drool starting to creep its way into his nostrils. It’s time to put her to bed.

Joel carefully cradles her into his arms and lifts himself up from the couch. He takes his babygirl, the softest, warmest, most delicate thing he’s ever held with his callused hands, all the way down to her bedroom. His palms cupped tightly under her bum while the other caresses her back, her cheek against his collarbone as she sleeps soundly.

With utmost care and precision that he’s practiced a million times, he puts her into the crib. She lays out on her back and stretches comfortably without stirring. With his hand the size of her entire torso, he always rests it against her to feel each big inhale of air filling her belly and lungs before exhaling. Marveled that this little tiny thing alive and real, here, every day like the most miraculous thing in the cosmos, and its all because of you. 

He’ll never get over it. Never go a day seeing her without thinking she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Nothing he’s ever made with his hands—not this crib or this room, that rocking chair, the bear he stitched up, nor the ceiling fan or table downstairs that he built from years steady craftsmanship—nothing will ever come close to the love and pride that fills him when he sees this little thing right here. His daughter. His babygirl. His whole life now.

He’d stay in here forever and watch her from above like some creep if he could. Instead, Joel leans down and plants a soft kiss on her forehead, brushing her curly hair before carefully sliding out of the room and cracking the door.

He’s barely pulled away from the door knob when aggressive hands yank him back and push him against the opposite wall with such force, he nearly shouts. Picture frames shudder crookedly as wet lips attach themselves to his own. 

Joel’s never been pinned to a wall like this, but he’s not opposed to the way desperate, famished whimpers translate from your mouth to his, the way your tongue forces its way to glide over his teeth and tangle with his. Your hands wring the collar of his shirt in tight fists, and his back keeps getting smashed against the wall each time he tries to lean closer to you.

“W-mm-wha—mmmm-mmfff!—what are you—?“

“I want another one,” you growl. He shivers at how wracked your voice is. Beyond desperate, beyond control and savagely hungry. “Right. Now.”

He furls his brows. “W—?“ but you immediately latch yourself onto him again. 

His hands gently cup right above your ass, trying to be intimately appropriate, but you have other ideas. Your palms splay on his chest as you scratch your nails down to his crotch. Immediately fisting his rapidly hardening length out of his sweatpants. Joel’s head falls back against the picture frames.  He groans softly as you begin to pump him. Your tongue swipes your lips with a devilish grin, feeling him swell.

“Don’t you wanna put a baby in me?” You coo. Little nips to his lips don’t phase him, nor your words, as he slowly falls apart.

“Fuck—shit—“ he rasps. “But you just—“ he glances down to Sarah’s cracked bedroom down the hall. And how you specifically said you weren’t ready to try for another kid until Sarah was at least 3. “What has gotten into you??”

“Your seed—hopefully soon,” you smirk. 

He’s struggling to keep his trail of thoughts as you spit in your hand and continue to jerk him off expertly. Despite his size, the sheer force of your conviction right now has him pinned helplessly as you kiss and fist him.

“I—“

“Cmon Daddy, don’t you wanna make me a Mommy again? Get me all knocked up and show me off, how much you like breeding me…”

Joel Miller is not a strong man. Maybe he can lug concrete and lumber all day, pull wasp stingers and blisters from his own hands, carry a pregnant woman who’s gained 50 pounds in milkshakes alone—but god he’s a weak weak man for you when you’re like this. The greatest danger of all:

“Shit, are you ovulating???”

To his horror, you nod eagerly. 

You get to your knees quickly, and he sees how blown your pupils are staring up at his erect length. The little bob in your neck as you pinch the tip, licking the salty precum from your fingers. 

“I don’t think this is a good—“

All his words evaporate from his mind the second you wrap your lips around his fucking balls. He grits his teeth and slams his head back against the wall, fighting the demons, particularly the one on her knees right now who’s generously sucking each one into her mouth.

With one hand pumping his cock over your forehead, your tongue swilrs and massages his sack. Suckling and releasing them with a pop before transferring to the other. 

He covers his mouth with a slap. 

Christ, you’re literally prepping them. Getting his seed ready and raring for your eggs to accept with loving arms.

You cup them in your warm hands, continuing their massage as your mouth engulfs his dick. bobbing your head obscenely, you take his tip to the back of your throat. The pressure on his mouth tightens from the whine burrowed in his throat when his tip nudges your esophagus like its nothing, squeezing around him before pulling away again in the tight heat of your skilled mouth.

He can’t compete. Can’t think. Not when you’re sucking him off like the tastiest, juiciest hot wings, all meat slurped clean from the bone in a single suck. 

His eyes feel hazy as you work him, gargled noises filling his hears. He wants to blow his load. Yeah, maybe that’s it. He’ll cum down your throat right now, and you won’t get any—

As if reading his thoughts, you pull off his throbbing cock. A wet string of saliva connecting his tip to your lips. You look so gorgeously sinful right now: swollen lipped and crazy eyed. 

He’s in serious trouble.

Inhuman strength yanks him down the hall and into your bedroom like a leashed dog. You chunk him on the bed, his back bouncing once before you’re shoving him down, crawling over his body and pinning him like a wooden slat.

No. Bad bad bad idea. 

‘Maybe…” he gulps. You don’t listen as you pull his pants all the way down to his ankles—effectively keeping them trapped around the fabric so he can’t get away.  “—I should get the condom…”

Your head snaps to him with an angered snarl. 

He tentatively reaches for your face, but you snatch him down and pin his hand above the bed. “Fuck your condoms,” you growl.

He nods fearfully. He prays to the horny devil, who overcomes women once a month and helps procreate the human race, to please have mercy on his wife and release her from the chokehold possession the demon has wrapped around her.

He didn’t even notice when you had striped your underwear, but your naked pussy is already slobbering atop his tip. He gasps at the warm, wet drool, thick like syrup, coating his tip. You giggle vivaciously and begin to rub it between your folds.  “You ready for it, baby?” You coo. “You’re gonna give me another one, Daddy. Right. Now.”

You soften just a bit, if possible with carnivorous crave licking your tongue over your teeth. “I’ll take care of everything, just sit there and let Mommy handle the breeding.”

WeakWeakWeakWEAK fucking man, Joel Miller.

You gasp loudly as you sink down onto his pulsing length. Joel’s whole body goes taught, the veins in his neck strained so tight they may burst before his cock does.

“Ugghrrmmgmgmmmmhgggffff Fuck yeah, Shit, that’s sooooooo fucking good, Joel, Fill me up, been needing this fat cock buried in my tight pussy all fucking night. Oh my god!” You squeal, quickly bouncing up and down on him until your ass is slapping his thighs. 

F-F-f-f-f-f-f-f-fuuuuucccckkkkkkk.” He daringly tilts forward to see you hungrily riding his dick back and forth, your hips working so effortlessly. Tongue lolled out with a big grin on your face.

“Fuckin love watching you be a Daddy! M’gonna take it, take your fucking cum in my fertile little cunt until I’m bursting with your baby again.”

He needs to tell you that you need to heal more first. That you’re still tired, and new as a mom, and freshly off the first child. But when he sees your tits jumping up and down with each movement, the way they’re still heavy and forever changed from the last time he knocked you up, he keeps his lips shut, except for the huffs of pleasure flowering in his body.

You’re bouncing fast for his seed. Not even god’s entire army of angles could deny this. He thinks about how your droopy tummy right now reminds him of when you were first starting to show while pregnant with Sarah, and the realization only then that you were really pregnant dawned on him. It was the period of best sex because he could still be rough with you, but admire that tiny swell that he put inside of you. Reminds him of right now, that he could do it all over again right fucking now and you’re letting him. So greedy and desperate for it, just for him to flood your womb with more cum and more babies and—

Fuck, fuck don’t cum Miller. 

But the image of your swollen body again, milky fat tits and wide hips  accepting him—shit no that’s making it worse!

Ok—he thinks about the 9 months straight of pure hell: your attitude, demands, yelling, crying, exhaustion. How bitchy and annoying you get, pushing him past his envelope to serve your needy wants until he’s over the edge and pins ya both right back in this exact position with him pounding the shit out of you—

He thrusts his hips up and grasps your waist. Taking over and fucking up into you because the thought of Pregnant Wife You all over again and needing to take care of you once more has him in a feral deathtrap.

You yelp as Joel flips the two of you over. Your thighs fall even further apart as he completely slots his body between them and goes to pound down on your cunt. “Oh SHIT OH FUCKYESDADDY!” You cry with a smile, arms slinging over his shoulders to hold him down close to you.

You keen, so high and dumb you’re begging for it. Legs wrapped around him securely with no room to pull out. 

He grunts anomalistically, over and over again with each fast rut into you. Your fingers grip his hair tightly and pull his face next to yours. “You’re gonna fucking cum inside me,” you growl through bared teeth. He fucks you faster. Eyes so dilated, heart pressed against yours like a race. 

“Fill me up baby, breed me—breedmebreed-breed-breedmeDaddy fuck oh my god yesyesyesyesYES!”

He can’t stop his hips from moving, can’t stop the delicious plunge of his angry dick into your sweet sweet tight slit. He probably looks ridiculous—knees spread so wide on the mattress to really dig each thrust deep inside, wearing only a T shirt with his ass and swollen balls hanging out and humping desperately into your mound. 

He hisses through clenched teeth into your neck, cheeks puffing out with each blow. You keep encouraging him with more naughty thoughts of making him Daddy over and over and over again and any sane man would be insane right now. 

He’s thought about breeding you every day since you even found out you were expecting. He mourns the loss of your pregnant glow. Joel loves you, beautiful each day, but something about seeing his wife swell with the clear evidence of his love, her own body and mind changing by the minute because of him …he wants you pregnant again. For the rest of your life. Stuffed full of his kids. Round and fertile like a goddess. Once he got a taste of you like that, no husband would ever miss the chance to do it again. 

He wants it so badly, so little clarity left in him that is screaming ‘pulloutpulloutpulloutpullout’ as he pounds pounds pounds your womb. He may break his jaw from how tightly clenched he is. Nothing matters more than giving you exactly what you’re begging for.

He grunts even louder, and you tighten your legs around him even more, knowing he’s close. 

“Oh fuckFUCK Yes Baby give it to me!!—FUcking cum, Daddy oh shit—oh RIGHT—RIGHT FUCKING THERE! Come inside, I know you wanna Daddy just fucking cum in my little womb, let’s make a fucking baby, knock me up right now!!”

He shouts, and fate grants him mercy at the last possible second; his cock slips out and nudges itself along your ass as he spills his load onto your slit and the bedsheets.

You shake your head and start swearing, but he’s still on top of you, whining and jerking with each pulse of seed that is just shooting like a geyser from his tip. He lets out a long moan, closing his eyes. His cock twitches a few more times before finally going empty.

He sits back just a bit, trying to even his breathing. Joel Miller has never been so overwhelmed by an orgasm before that he loses sense of where he is for a few seconds. All covered in sweat, his heart rate dangerously high from such a fantastic cum.

He hazily opens his eyes to see you scooping his cum from your ass and the mattress, dragging it up along your slit and pushing as much of his cream into as you can salvage.

“NO!” He shouts, quickly grabbing your wrists and pinning them to your side. You wail out, physically squirming and trying to wiggle from his grasp. He watches you thrash madly but to no avail. Your poor cunt clenches and unclenches, his probably trying to make its way from your folds to your womb right now…

Joel quickly bends down, hands still firmly on your wrists, and puts his mouth on your cunt. You gasp out, strained and pathetic, as he begins to suck out of his seed from your slit. For good measures, he licks it from your crack and ass too, everything rapidly being scooped by his talented tongue gulped down his throat, away from your dangerous eggs.

Your heels come up along his back and press down hard. He shouts into your cunt when you cum. Clit twitching like a heartbeat while your much needed orgasm rolls through you. Your walls clench so tightly around nothing, you can’t help but whimper at the loss despite shaking through the euphoria for so long. Joel does what he can, working his tongue through it all until your sounds get softer, more satisfied. 

“Euughh—salty,” he says with a shiver, wiping his lips clean of all his and your cum. You both pant together with the last ebb of your orgasms settling.

“You alright, babe?” 

Tears begin to well in your eyes. Lips trembling with a pathetic mewl spilling past your lips.

It takes 3 seconds of Joel hugging you close before feels you begin to hump his thighs.

“Honey—Honey please don’t cry, its just—you get this way when you’re ovulating, and ya’d be mad at me if I actually did breed you—“

You nod solemnly despite wiping your tears and burning your face into your hands. No he’s right. you weren’t thinking straight. So horny and desperate to be filled, you didn’t think anything through it. Just needed him balls deep emptying every bit of sperm into you like you were made for nothing else.

“Oh—oh no—“

Joel snatches your arms and throws you off him. He quickly snatches his pants and runs out the door, closing it behind him. You slam against the frame and shout, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING COCK, MILLER!”

You nuzzle your face into his shirt and inhale, getting yourself high on his scent while your slick pussy does a number on him. Your smooth, seductive, temptress voice nearly lulls him under your spell again: “Fuck—fuck Daddy—can we do it one more time—please?My pussy—she’s so—nnnmm—feels so empty…I’ll—ugghhhhhh oo ff-ff—fuuccckkk—I’ll let you—ah—haaa!—pull out—“

He yanks back. “THE HELL YOU WILL.”

He holds the knob tight despite its aggressive rattling. Joel quickly ties his sweatpants legs from the door handle to the hallway guard rail, stretched to keep them at odds and effectively locking you in. 

“Not till you behave!” 

He hears you go quiet for a moment before you erupt into a long wail like a baby. At the same time, poor little Sarah can’t handle all this raucous, awakening from her sleep and crying through the cracked bedroom.

Joel wipes his face, knowing he’s done the right thing. But now at the cost of an irritated baby that’s gonna make him carry her all night, he’s reconsidering having just pumped you full in the first place and calling it a day.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[starkeven]

first writing ever <3 this is a quick os, maybe will turn it into a series later.

psychologist!reader x fbi agent!rafe cameron.

warning : mention of death, HEAVY smut, mention of argument, p in v, unprotected sex, uniform kink, consumption of alcohol, slight degradation dom!ready x sub!rafe for like 3 seconds before switching, use of petnames + insults, thigh riding, restraining at some point. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE. english isn't my first language so sorry if this is badly done.

Rafe knew he messed up the moment he walked in, late again. He didn't need to see you to know—he could already feel it. When he opened the door and saw the glass of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter, untouched, it confirmed everything. You never drank alone unless he had really screwed up. Red wine meant trouble, and tonight, he knew he was in deep.

Lately, things had been rough on both of you. Rafe was always working, consumed by a case that seemed never-ending. It had taken over his life, and he often found himself wondering if they'd ever catch the bastard. It was a cat-and-mouse game, with the guy always two steps ahead—shattering families, killing girls. Always, girls. Each new victim weighed heavily on him, and it was starting to tear at the seams of your relationship. The distance between you grew wider with every late night and every unanswered call.

That’s when Rafe became fiercely protective of you. The idea of you wandering alone at night made his skin crawl. You fit the exact profile of the girls this killer preyed on, and the thought of something happening to you drove him mad. He couldn’t stand the idea of anyone getting near his sweet, innocent girl, so he tried to keep you close, refusing to let you go out. Not that you ever listened. You hated being cooped up, and the more he tightened his grip, the more you pushed back.

Rafe took a deep breath, trying to summon the patience to finally step inside. He didn't even bother taking his shoes off as he slowly pushed the door open. That's when he saw you-just as he expected, a glass of wine in hand.

You sat there, glasses up your nose, wearing nothing but your work shirt, unbuttoned, the soft fabric falling open to reveal the curve of your breasts, sending a shiver down his spine. Your bottoms were carelessly tossed a few meters away. He could feel the tension radiating off you even before you looked his way.

But you didn't even look at him. He raised an eyebrow, feeling the weight of your silence. “ Hello, ” he muttered, his voice low. No response. You didn't even flinch. He sighed, already defeated, and walked over to the couch, sitting next to you. His eyes flicked to the TV, then to you, and inevitably, to your exposed chest.

For a moment, he wondered if you did it on purpose— sitting there like that, with your shirt barely hanging on, hair tousled, panties on display, and your breasts visible only for him. It was the kind of sight that would drive him insane, and he knew you were aware of that. His suit suddenly felt too tight as the thought sank in, desire and frustration mixing dangerously in his mind.

You sat there, your anger barely contained beneath your calm exterior. Did you put yourself in such a suggestive position realizing what it would do to him? Maybe. Even if you were angry at how he constantly came home late, how he tried to control everything, and how he barely talked to you anymore—you couldn’t ignore the fact that you were also needy. You missed him. He barely touched you these days, too consumed by work or exhaustion to give you the attention you craved.

Tonight felt different, though. You both had the day off tomorrow, meaning no early alarms, no rushing to sleep. The entire night stretched ahead of you, and for once, it felt like there was space to reconnect. Even if you were mad, there was an undeniable part of you that wanted him —needed him — just as much as you were angry at him. And by the way he kept glancing at you, you could tell the tension between you wasn’t lost on him either.

You couldn’t help but glance down, noticing the obvious restrain in his pants. A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips—he didn’t even bother to hide it. Yet, here he was, pretending like he didn’t care, eyes fixed on the TV as if he wasn’t completely distracted by you. You watched him for a moment longer, taking in the way his suit clung to him, crisp and sharp, the perfect contrast to the messy situation between you two. He looked undeniably hot, and it drove you crazy.

You couldn't hold back anymore. Stretching out slightly, your breasts fully revealed themselves to him, and you watched as his gaze darkened instantly. He didn't need any more of a signal to understand. You could see how he braced himself, how his eyes locked onto your chest, and just as his hand extended toward you, you slapped it away.

“ No touching,” you warned, your voice low, passing a hand over your hardened nipple. “ See what you do to me? How ignored l've been feeling? ”

The frustration was clear in your tone, but so was the need. You weren't going to make it easy for him-not after all the nights you'd spent feeling invisible, desperate for his attention. Now, it was his turn to feel just as needy.

And needy he felt, especially when you straddled him, your body pressing against his as if taunting him. His hands hovered in the air, waiting for permission he wasn't used to asking for. Normally, he was the one in charge, the one who set the pace. But tonight felt different-like everything had shifted.

‘ Do you know how many nights I had to do this myself? ’ you whispered, your voice low, a playful pout on your lips as you teased him, your hips pressing ever so slightly against his hardness. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched, desperate for your touch yet unable to move, completely at your mercy. The power dynamic had changed, and it thrilled you both.

You raised an eyebrow at his silence, a smirk tugging at your lips as you lifted your hips slightly, sliding your panties off with deliberate ease. The cool air hit your skin just as you settled your wet cunt against his clothed thigh, the friction making him groan softly.

‘ Do you want me to show you? ’ you teased, your voice a dangerous whisper as you watched him. He nodded instinctively, but that wasn't enough. You needed more-needed him to say it. Your fingers trailed up his lips, teasing the edge of his mouth before slipping between them, pressing against his tongue. ‘ Words,’ you commanded softly, your eyes dark with expectation.

‘ Y-yes,’ he mumbled around your fingers, licking and sucking at them in desperation.

‘ Yes, who? ’ you asked, your voice taking on a new edge, the question cutting through the haze of his desire. The words ignited something inside him, something primal. He knew what you wanted, what you demanded. but he refused.

He looked up at you, his gaze shifting from submission to something more primal, almost animalistic. The realization of how tiny you were compared to him seemed to spark a flicker of amusement in his eyes. A smirk crept across his lips as he challenged you, ‘ Who? ’ His voice was cold, teasing, and he laughed, ‘ You're practically humping my thighs like a bitch in heat and you're asking who? ’

The playful taunt sent a jolt through you, and you felt your pussy clench involuntarily at his words. His hand came down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you could contain it.

As if that wasn't enough, he began to untie his tie, the smooth fabric slipping from around his neck with ease. With a swift motion, he looped it around your throat, holding it firmly yet not painfully, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his presence consumed you.

‘ Move, ma'am, ’ he commanded, his tone low and filled with authority. The mixture of dominance in his words and the grip on your throat ignited a fire deep within you, urging you to obey and grind against him with fervor.

That's exactly what you did. You ground against him, feeling the weight of his gaze as he took your glass of wine, setting it aside to fully appreciate the show before him. Each movement of your body sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your wetness staining his pants, yet he didn't seem to care in the slightest.

His expression remained nonchalant, almost amused, while you became increasingly unraveled. Your moans grew louder, filling the room as you lost yourself in the sensations. It was as if he were savoring every moment, enjoying the way you squirmed under his control.

Then, he lifted his thigh just right, the pressure hitting your clit perfectly, sending a surge of pleasure that made your back arch. The feeling was electric, and you could hardly keep your composure, the sounds escaping your lips betraying the bliss you were experiencing. Each rub against his thigh intensified your arousal, and you could tell he was relishing in your desperation, enjoying the sight of you coming undone before him.

After a few minutes of blissful torture, he suddenly gripped your waist, halting your movements. You mumbled in protest, frustrated at the sudden stop, but all that escaped your lips was a string of needy whines. He chuckled, the sound deep and teasing, ‘ Jesus Christ, ’ as he began to unzip his pants.

That's when it hit you: you were completely bare, exposed, while he remained fully clothed-from his polished shoes to his tailored jacket. The contrast between your nakedness and his attire only heightened your frustration, making you pout, but deep down, you understood you weren't in any position to protest.

Slowly, he freed himself from the confines of his pants, revealing his cock, standing tall and curved, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He smirked at you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

‘ It's a little dry, don't you think? ’ Before you could formulate a response, he wasted no time, pushing you down onto your knees. The urgency in his actions sent a thrill of excitement through you as he tapped his cock against your lips, urging you to open up for him.

You complied without hesitation, opening your mouth wide to accommodate him. As you took his tip at first, you felt the warmth of his skin against your tongue, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He gripped your hair tightly in his hands, guiding your movements as he slowly pushed his hips forward, making you gag around him. What started as just the tip quickly turned into him sliding deeper, filling your mouth completely.

With a smirk, he pulled out his phone and positioned the camera to capture the scene unfolding before him. ‘ Say hello to the camera, baby, ’ he chuckled, the sound dripping with satisfaction.

‘ Fuck-this is going to help me during work. ’ He caressed your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the rawness of the moment, making you melt further around him as you did your best to take him fully.

As he began to groan, showering you with praise, you felt a surge of pride at how well you were pleasing him. But just as the pleasure peaked, his phone rang, cutting through the atmosphere.

He groaned in annoyance, looking down at you with a mix of desire and frustration. ‘ Don't you dare fucking stop, ’ he commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience, before putting the phone to his ear, attempting to balance his work and the overwhelming pleasure you were giving him.

You looked up at him, noticing the way his brows were furrowed in concentration, though you weren't focused on his words at all. Your mouth moved faster, wanting to draw every sound of pleasure from him. But he quickly stopped you, yanking your hair back, a shock of arousal shooting through you at the sudden intensity. He pulled you up to his lap, his body still on the phone, and you were a complete mess, a mix of urgency and desire.

He glanced down at the sight before him, taking in the view of your exposed cunt, glistening with need. With a smirk, he took his cock in hand, pressing it against your clit slowly, teasingly.

‘ Busy? Nah. Just taking care of my cat, ’ he said nonchalantly, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he continued to talk on the phone.

Without warning, he slid into you, the suddenness of it making you gasp, the sensation overwhelming. His eyes locked onto yours, dark with lust as he relished the moment. His hand moved up your throat, a firm grip that sent shivers down your spine. Then, he took his tie and pulled it up to your mouth, tightening it around you, constraining you just enough to heighten the thrill of the moment.

He tilted his head to the side, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear as he continued his conversation, his voice steady and composed. Both of his hands moved to her waist, feeling the way she instinctively tried to contain her noises, muffled breaths escaping her lips.

He started off slow, guiding her movements with his hands, feeling the heat radiating between them. But it didn't take long for him to pick up the pace, thrusting into her with a quick intensity that left her reeling. The sensations were overwhelming, each deep thrust sending shockwaves through her body, making it hard for her to keep quiet.

She wanted to let out a moan, to express the pleasure that was building inside her, but she knew better. Instead, she focused on the feeling of him filling her, the way everything inside her kept buckling under the force of his movements. Each thrust was a delicious torment, and even as she struggled to keep her sounds contained, the pleasure surged through her, threatening to spill over.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally said, ‘ Yeah, alright. See ya, ’ and threw his phone aside, discarding it carelessly. As soon as the device hit the floor, he pulled the tie away from your mouth, releasing you from the makeshift gag. That's when the dam broke.

You became a real mess, your muffled moans escalating into desperate cries that filled the room with unrestrained pleasure. He groaned at the sound, his focus shifting as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and biting it before giving equal attention to the other. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, and your body reacted instinctively, arching toward him.

His free hand moved to your clit, working it with a skill that made your head spin. The roughness of his touch, the way he twitched it between his fingers, brought you to the very edge.

You could feel the tension building, the pressure coiling tightly within you. His moans echoed your own, signaling that he was reaching his peak as well. With every flick and caress, he pushed you closer to the edge, both of you teetering on the brink of ecstasy, ready to tumble into that sweet release together.

But what truly sent you over the edge was when he pinched your clit sharply, the unexpected shock sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. You tightened around him in waves, your body trembling as a delicious heat surged through you. For the first time, you felt yourself dripping around him, the slickness mixing with the urgency of the moment.

At that precise instant, he reached his climax as well. You could feel his cock twitching deep inside you, a low groan escaping his lips as he filled you, his release igniting your own. The two of you were lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, bodies moving together in perfect synchrony, until the world outside faded away, leaving nothing but the heat and connection between you.

You both lingered in that intimate moment for a few minutes, sharing heavy breaths and gentle displays of affection. The warmth of his body against yours felt like a comforting cocoon. Eventually, he pulled himself out of you, and you felt an undeniable sense of loss at the absence of his warmth.

Without saying a word, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you through the house, cradling you against his chest like you were the most precious thing in his world. When you reached the bedroom, he gently laid you down on the bed, tucking the covers around you with the utmost care. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

However, instead of joining you, he walked over to the closet, pulling out a fresh pair of pants. Your heart sank at the sight, and you frowned, an unspoken question hanging in the air. It was as if he could sense your unease because he turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender.

“They found him, baby. I gotta go,” he said, the weight of his words settling heavily in the room. With a final kiss, one that lingered as if he were trying to imprint the moment into your memory, he slipped back into his suit, and left the room.

sorry that was actually sooo long.