#i can’t draw babies holy shit

[fekoff]

wip of the pissing on a grave animatic or whatever

[clovreat3r]

teehee

Teaser for NS ( @nssticcman ) new upcoming amazing, scrumptious, diabolical, spectacular, stunning, genius, deviously perfect, BI-ANNUAL OC CHARACTER DESIGN CHANGE.. 🥁badumbadumbadumbadumbadum brrrrrrrr🥁

YIPEEE

[reddtulips]

something something ghoap staying at johnny’s family farm that’s less than two hours away from glasgow.

they barely reach the damn place because simon insists on driving and takes a wrong exit on the highway and johnny has to piss a hundred times during the drive.

the air is crisp and cold and frosts the tips of their noses and simon forces indifference when johnny’s fingers brush simon’s to hold the duffel bag so he can close the trunk of the car.

johnny knocks on the front door and his mother rips it open, hugging his son and without a second to think, hugs simon as well and ushers them inside.

johnny’s father is a simple man and gives simon a firm handshake and a pat on his back and shows him the dining room, a feast set on the table and every salad under the sun overflowing in hand painted bowls that johnny’s mother made when she did pottery ten years ago.

johnny’s sisters are there, his niece and nephews as well, all children and simon sweats thinking how in the hell he is supposed to talk to them. are the boys at the appropriate age to know about guns and knives? or do they look at encyclopedias of greek mythology and dinosaurs? does the niece like barbie and dress up? or is she one of those girls that like to collect bugs and draw hopscotch on the pavement with colorful chalk and wipe the excess from her fingers onto her pants?

they watch him with eager eyes and giggles smothered behind tiny hands, and watch in awe when he lifts his balaclava to expose his mouth so he can eat.

johnny does the talking at the table and simon can’t understand a fucking word he’s saying because he’s gone full scottish with his family, only hums and nods occasionally. he wolfs down every piece of food, the human trashcan that he is (and because he doesn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal), and nearly combusts for a second time that day as johnny’s mam places a plate with a thick slice of apple pie in front of him, vanilla ice cream melting over it and puts a hand on his shoulder, “johnny told me ye have a sweet tooth, so i made it especially for ye.”

simon who does silent breathing exercises so he doesn’t cry because he misses this so fucking much. to sit down with a family and enjoy a meal together with loved ones and not fight, nor scream nor yell nor cry nor throw food nor break plates and it’s just laughter upon laughter upon claps on the shoulders and clutching at arms and pulling each other into side hugs and light jabs that mean nothing and don’t break into full blown fights and simon thinks he’s going to vomit.

simon who gets to see johnny’s childhood bedroom. it’s decorated in superhero posters and hanging medals and trophies from gymnastics and competitive shooting competitions. johnny turns sheepish when simon points them out, teases him and likes and fears the swirl of warmth in his chest when johnny’s ears and neck turn red. he’s told “still a better shot than you,” and if johnny were anyone else, he’s be given toilet cleaning duties for the next three months.

simon who wants to pull out and empty every drawer, check every nook and cranny and learn and suck in every single piece of information and story there is about johnny and what — there’s pictures of you as a kid? with a mohawk? fuck off, soap, lemme see.

johnny opens the left door of his wardrobe and it’s covered in baby pictures of him and his family and simon’s chest tightens but he doesn’t break his gaze. Lo and behold, Johnny points out a picture on top and holy shit, it’s him holding a fat, orange cat the size of half his body and he’s sporting a long mohawk. His cheeks are stained with tears but there’s a forced grin on his face and blood on his chin. johnny explains it was his 7th birthday, he fell off a swing, hit his chin and his mam still wanted a photo. the cat’s named ‘fergus’ and he’s still alive and has lost most of the weight. he explains more photos but simon’s eyes keep coming back to the first one and he just wants to lean down and leave a gentle kiss on the scar covering johnny’s chin.

the kids don’t leave simon alone, as much as uncle johnny protests and tells them to get tae and let ‘em rest, he’s been drivin’ all mornin’ but watches them from the kitchen with a soft smile as simon walks around with the kids hanging and clutching at his strong arms like they’re monkeys and simon can’t get enough of their giggles and ooh’s and ahh’s when he tells them heroic and child-friendly war stories about their uncle. he also tells them that he sucks ass at taking orders and sharing his MREs and that they should listen to their parents and respect their elders and share with each other. johnny smothers a grin behind his hand as simon uses his lieutenant’s voice when speaking to the kids about these things.

johnny steals simon away then, “gotta show ‘em the horses”, and simon keeps his distance and doesn’t dare get up on one of them. the cockiest, “scared, Lt.?” with a shit-eating grin from johnny makes him grab the reigns and climb on. johnny leads the horse down the field and they fall into a comfortable silence. simon can’t get enough of the peace and quiet and chirping of birds and gentle yet chilly breeze on his hands and johnny is suddenly coming to a halt.

simon looks down at his sergeant, and his cheeks are flushed red and there’s determination and well-masked hesitation in his blue eyes and before simon knows it, he’s being pulled down by the sleeve of his jacket and johnny is cupping the sides of his face and pressing a gentle kiss over the material of simon’s mask. it’s innocent, quick, almost like it doesn’t even happen and isn’t registered. but their gazes meet when they part and it’s over for both of them because simon is fervently pushing his mask up and cupping johnny’s cheeks and they’re both leaning forward again and pressing kiss upon kiss upon kiss on each other’s lips and simon finally thinks,

i’ve found it. i’ve found home.

[ferrarifever]

hawaiian heat | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: you and charles go out clubbing while on vacation in hawaii, but he isn’t a fan of the attention his girl is getting

warnings: jealous! & possessive!charles, extremely light choking, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p in v

wc: 2.7k

masterlist🏎️𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🏁 ／ ⋆ ۪

author’s note: hi! this is my first fic so i'd really appreciate feedback! (also i'm scared this will flop lol). also requests are open or if anyone has prompt/headcanon ideas hmu because i’m always looking for (and need) inspo (and also mutuals because i’m new around here!) - stella♡

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

leading up to takeoff, you spent weeks making sure everything was perfectly prepared. you made sure to pack all your best swimsuits, your nicest outfits, and your finest jewelry. the opportunity to spend this much uninterrupted time with charles was rare, so you were determined to make the most of it.

filled with anticipation, the flight from monaco to maui felt like an eternity. you tried to downplay your excitement, but your plan completely failed once you arrived at the most picturesque villa you’ve seen in your life. it was the type you’d only seen online, and the reality you were staying there with the love of your life felt like a dream come true.

stepping out on the balcony of your room, you couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream. so entranced by the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, you failed to hear charles joining you. you felt his arms, already warm from the maui sun wrap around your waist. he began pressing feather-light kisses into your neck,

“i can’t believe we’re finally here. i can’t wait to spend the week with you chéri” he whispered in between kisses

you momentarily turned your back to the water to face charles. resting a hand on his chest, you whispered back “i can already tell i’m not going to want to leave”

you lightly press against his chest, leading both of you back in your shared room. placing his hand over yours, charles fell back gently on the bed, pulling you on top of him. you align yourself with the monegasque, feeling him begin to press his hips into yours. you felt his hand grip your cheek, pulling your lips to his. feeling charles hands migrate to the bottom of your shirt, you knew the rush of heat that flooded your body could not be attributed to the hawaiian climate. fighting your desire, you attempt to pull away

“baby–” you mumble against his lips, trying to pull him out of his trance of desire.

“charles– c’mon baby i have to start getting ready” running your hands up his body, you push your hands against his shoulders to force yourself off of the driver. he did not hold back his displeasure, groaning and falling back into the mattress.

“the sooner we leave the quicker we can come back, love!” you yell back towards charles, while making your way toward the bathroom to get ready. dedicated to your goal of making the most of the trip, you picked your favorite dress out of your suitcase. might as well kick the trip off with a bang, right?

you pulled every trick in the book. you did your makeup to make your eyes pop. you styled your hair in the way you knew charles loved. the jewelry you put on was flashy, but not tacky. before slipping on your favorite dress, you put on charles’ favorite ferrari red lingerie set. the lace hugged your curves perfectly, giving you a perfect boost of confidence before going out. you slipped on a maroon satin mini dress, leaving little for the imagination. you knew you looked good, and anyone else you come across will know too.

after giving yourself a onceover, you stepped into your favorite pair of louboutins. you walked out of the bathroom, the clicking of your heels drawing charles attention away from his phone and up to you. he gasped quietly, sucking in air while biting his bottom lip.

“holy shit y/n– there’s no way we’re leaving this room” he choked out.

you giggled at your boyfriends awe before replying; “as amazing as that sounds, you know we would never hear the end of it if we’re late”

charles pulls himself off the bed, meeting you halfway. he gently pushes you up against the doorframe of the bathroom

“let them talk baby–they’ll get it once they see this dress” he says quickly before kissing you passionately

cutting him off before things get too heated, you push him away; “charles, seriously, lets not give them a reason to make fun of us on day one. we’ll regret it i promise”

charles groans dramatically, knowing you’re right but not wanting to admit to it. you grab your purse off your nightstand and give yourself one last look in the mirror before turning back to charles to ask; “ready?”

charles pauses for a moment, deciding whether or not to put up one last fight. he ultimately replies “ready,” before holding out his hand for you to grab.

you make it to the club with perfect timing, meeting up with the other drivers and their partners. charles politely greets the other drivers and with just a single glance at your outfit the other girls give you a knowing look.

as the drinks started flowing, you knew this was going to be a memorable night (if you can remember it in the morning). with enough liquor in your system, you joined the dancefloor with the other wives and girlfriends, while charles hung back in a booth.

you knew that when you learned over the bar to get another drink you were giving everyone a peak at the lacy set under your dress. with every sway of your hips, the skit of your dress rose higher and higher up your hips. you were having the time of your life, failing to realize that you were driving charles insane. you momentarily locked eyes across the room, and while you flashed a smile, charles lowered his eyebrows in dismay. as you turned back towards the dancefloor you felt charles’ arms wrap tightly around your waist

“i think you have had enough dancing for the night, hmm?” charles whispered into your eye

“baby c’mon…the night is just beginning!” you giggle back

“the fun will begin once we get out of here…it’s time to go” charles growls into your ear. your desire to fight back died as soon as you saw the passion in his eyes. a wave of heat flushed through your body, and you allowed the driver to grab your wrist and pull you out of the darkly lit club.

the uber ride back to the hotel was tense. as charles hand slipped higher and higher up your thigh, you had to use all of your will to not climb onto him in the backseat. as soon as the car shifted into park, charles was pulling you out of the seat and up to your room.

as soon as you heard the door shut behind you, charles pushed you back against it. alternating running his hand along the bottom of your dress and pinch the fabric, charles growled out

“you happy now? finally getting the attention you clearly desperately wanted in this dress?” his words sparked heat in your core and you failed to muster any reply, simply whimpering in response.

“mmhm? now that it’s just us, my bébé is shy?” he questioned. his hand finally migrated up your thigh to where you really needed him. he snapped the elastic of your thong against your core, continuing his teasing.

“charles…please…” you continued to whine. you knew you sounded pathetic, but your need continued to build in a way that led you to not think clearly.

as soon as the ‘please’ left your mouth, you felt charles remove his hand from up your dress and placed it carefully around your neck. he bent his knee between your thighs, holding you up against the door.

“you know bébé–if you asked that sweetly before we left i may be nicer right now. instead, you thought teasing me in front of the boys would end better for you. so right now i’m going to remind you that you’re mine and only mine.” he growled into your ear before migrating lower and lightly biting at your neck.

“i’m sorry” you apologized with a light smirk. making charles jealous was never your priority, but if it happened along the way you were going to enjoy the ride.

“prove it then” he snapped back. he increased pressure on your neck, slowly pushing you down until you dropped to your knees. you looked up at him, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster. he bit down on his lip in return, not wanting to praise you just yet. he nodded down at you, giving you silent permission to continue. you slowly unbutton his jeans. you know continuing to tease him is a dangerous game, but you know secretly charles likes it when you take your time with him.

you tug at his jeans, pulling his boxers down with them. his hard length bounces, hitting his abs. you take the opportunity to lick a long lick from the base to head of his length before taking his sensitive tip in your mouth. charles groans, throwing his head back as you take him deeper and deeper down your throat.

as your eyes begin to water, charles stretches out his arms before pressing his palm against the door to balance himself. the warmth of your mouth felt like heaven and he was doing everything in his power to ground himself.

your hands migrate to the back of his thighs, pulling him into you to take him even deeper into your mouth. you continue flicking your tongue below his tip, drawing obscene noises out of the driver.

he is able to center himself enough to look down and make eye contact with you. he quickly realizes he made a mistake, using your hair to divide the two of you.

“i’m not finishing down your pretty mouth tonight, cherí,” charles groans. just as you start processing his words, charles is pulling you off the floor and towards the bed. before either of you hit the mattress, charles is unzipping your dress. as the satin dress falls to the floor, your lace-clad body is presented to the monegasque. after taking in the sight before him, charles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding

“mon ange” he says, gasping for breath. once you’re face-to-face you give him a quick peck on the lips before whispering in his ear “use me baby, i’m yours.”

charles pushes you back first onto the bed. he pauses for a moment to take in the view in front of him. still clad in lace with your heels, lips swollen, eyeliner running, hair tousled…you were a dream come true. he can’t hold back for long before collapsing on top of you. you pick yourself lightly off the mattress, leaving just enough space for you to unclasp your bra. as soon as you pull the red lace off your body, charles is attacking your skin with his lips.

he runs his hands down your torso before looping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. he finally pulls them off after what felt like an eternity. his hands graze your thighs before making their way back to your core. he slowly runs a single finger where you needed him most.

“you're already so wet for me, bébé. no need to even prepare you, huh?” he says with a dry laugh. you didn't find it as funny, whining in return

“charles– please i need you so bad” you plead. he takes pity on you, sinking his middle finger into you. you moan slightly, you need for his touch your body had been begging for began to subside.

he continues pushing his middle finger in and out of you at what can only be considered a painstakingly slow pace. you continue your whining and muffled pleads, knowing it won’t do much at the moment

“who does this pussy belong to? hmm?” the speed of his words is a complete juxtaposition of his pace inside you.

“yours charles, yours!” you exclaim, “please do anything baby” you whine out. he was clearly not completely satisfied, but he took enough pity on you to move his thumb up towards your throbbing clit. the minute his thumb made contact with your throbbing bundle of nerves, you arched your back off the mattress. you attempted to moan out charles name, and although his title may not have been clear, your pleasure was.

as he began slowly rubbing circles on your clit, he added another finger inside you. you did not realize how deep the need inside of you was until this moment. you had no clue what to do with your body, alternating between gripping the sheets and running your hands through charles hair.

“now cherí, i’m going to be good to you today and let you get off on my fingers, you know why?” he questioned you, while quickening his trusting pace inside you.

you attempted an answer, but the fear of giving the wrong response and overwhelming pleasure led it to be incomprehensible. charles laughed slightly before filling you in,

“because i’m the only one who can make you feel this way bébé. none of the boys at that club would be able to make you feel this good with just his fingers” he announced. you nodded your head rapidly,

“only you baby–” you repeated like a mantra as you fell over the edge. your body spasmed and your stomach clenched and you screamed out. charles continued working you through your orgasm, slowing down his pace as you caught your breath. he slowly removed his fingers from where they were curled inside of you. he licked his middle finger quickly before holding them to your mouth. you began sucking on his fingers,

“now you can feel and taste how good i make you feel bébé” he says with confidence, knowing the power he holds over you.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. his wet hand moves down between your thighs, pushes them open just enough to make room for him. he continues leaning in closer to you before he whispers

“ready?” he asks carefully. you nod, using all your strength to mutter out a quick “yes.”

you feel his length slowly penetrate you, every inch pulling another gasp out of your lungs. he hands grip your waist as he immediately begins rocking in and out of you, filling you up with every rock of his hips. every thrust brought you closer and closer to your edge, and charles knew. he moves his hand from your waist back to your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a high-pitched moan at the additional stimulation. before you can process the added pleasure, you hear charles begin to speak,

“could any of the other guys in the club make you feel like this baby? hmm?” charles growls into you ear, frustration from earlier simmering back up

“only you charles! no one else, baby” you squeal out quickly. charles’ pressure on your clit gets faster as his thrusts get harder, pulling you closer and closer to your edge

“who’s are you bébé?” he growls out, keeping his explosive pace

“i’m yours baby! only yours! please” you scream out, gripping the bedsheets in an attempt to ground yourself

“go ahead cherí, cum for me” charles says in the calmest tone of the night. with a scream of his name, your walls flutter around him as you cum on his cock. so wrapped up in your own pleasure, it wasn’t until charles grabbed your hips tightly and slowed his pace you felt him filling you with his cum.

he stills over you, both of you panting and fighting to catch your breath. charles leans to kiss you quickly before slowly pulling out of you. he rolls next to you on the bed, both of you still fighting your air. charles makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to clean you off. as you feel the cloth running up the thigh, you remind charles

“you know it’s always been you, right? and always will be?” you remind charles

“mmhm i know cherí,” he replies calmly.

he leans over to press light kisses on your neck before continuing, “...but i never mind a reminder” ;)

[rafescvntyclubgf]

My Valentine - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Older!Rafe x Girlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

warnings: swearing, pet names, fingering, rafe and the reader watch their porno

📖 What do you get the man who has everything on Valentine’s Day?

✨ “You want your gift, daddy?

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.” ✨

800 words

Reader’s POV:

Valentine’s Day… What do you get your boyfriend? The man who has everything and anything he’s ever wanted, including you.

You pass him the little gift bag, watching his eyes sparkle as he takes it in, knowing he’ll most likely get something shiny purchased on his card. He humors you sweetly nonetheless, giving you that smile that makes your heart race a little faster.

His eyebrows pinch together as he pulls out the flash drive. “What do we have here?” He eyes the little device in his large palm, his curiosity peaks, turning the faux surprise genuine. He looks down at you, waiting for your response, but you simply shrug and giggle. “Alright. Alright. Let’s see what my girl got me. Yeah?”

He whisks you off your kitten-heeled feet, taking you into his arms, walking down the long hallways of Tanneyhill to his master bedroom. You let out a little gasp as you take everything in, the usual gifts and flowers, but Rafe loves how excited you get each time, regardless.

“Rafey…” You coo, making the high-points of his cheeks blush as you fawn over his sweetness and how well he takes care of you.

“Daddy’s always got you. You know that, princess,” he hums, dressing your new Tiffany necklace around your throat as he kisses his way to your ear. “Can’t wait to see what you got me, baby girl.”

“Why don’t you get comfortable? And I’ll go put something on,” you whisper onto his lips, to which he happily obliges.

You stroll over to the nightstand, littered with gifts purchased by Rafe, eyeing the lingerie sets.

“Somethin’ pink, princess,” he aids.

You change quickly, slipping into the matching silk robe before stepping into your heels again. Snagging the flash drive, you pop it into the tv, sauntering toward the bed as Rafe stalks your movements with a preditory stare, waiting for you to drop the delicate fabric.

His eyes are only on you for a moment before they roll back—Rafe grabbing for you fast, drawing you closer. You straddle his legs, feeling his cock, hard between your thighs.

“Tonight is going to be a good night,” he smiles, his hands drifting around to your ass, gripping tightly.

“Mmm… All night long?”

“All night long, angel. Gonna make you so dumb you forget your own name,” he chuckles raspily against your glossy lips.

“You want your gift, daddy?”

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.”

You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the remote, pressing play. Rafe’s eyes double with his devilish smile as he takes a rough grip on your curves. “Fuck, was this Moracco?” He rasps. “Did you record-” His voice trails off as he watches your naked body come into frame before adjusting the camera slightly, ensuring the perfect angle for him. “Holy shit. My girl looks fuckin’ good,” he moans before slapping your ass. “God damn. C’omere, princess.”

He snaps at the little band of your thong guiding you to slip it off. You finger the clasp of your bra flicking that away before relaxing your back into his muscular chest. Rafe snuggles into you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as you kiss on camera.

“Look at how good we look. Shit,” he sighs, kissing you gently on the neck, drifting up toward your ear. “My own personal pornstar,” he groans sinfully. His soft voice in your ears gives you the giggles. “Ugh… Not the giggle too. Just kill me, princess.”

He draws his hands up to your breasts, taking a hold of them, massaging them in his large palms. He circles your nipples slowly, making you whine.

“Fuck, I gotta big dick. You think she’s gonna take it all in that tight little pussy?” He taunts. Rafe’s hand drifts over your naval, lowering to your sex, his other hand resting lightly on your throat.

He massages the inside of your thighs with a heavy hand, dangerously close to where you’re craving him most. “Mmm…” you purr. He grabs your chin roughly, directing you toward his lips.

You let out an airy sigh when he slides his fingers through your folds, the tip of his ringed digits dipping in and out of your entrance. His fingers rub around your clit, small waves of pleasure with every stroke of the hand.

“We’re gonna watch this again and again,” his fingers mirror his words; a smile felt against your lips.

“Please, daddy.”

“So polite, princess. So good f’me. Look at you take my cock. Fuck m’givin’ it to you so good,“ he hums.

”So – So good,“ you pant as Rafe adds more friction. ”Just like that.“ You plead. Rafe kisses your neck roughly—your heart starts beating faster.

He lets out a wicked laugh as you repeat yourself on camera. “Yes, Rafe just like that. Fuck!” Your desperate cries come pouring out of the tv speakers. He repeats your words teasingly through kisses which only makes you wetter, the squelching of your own pussy making the video hard to hear.

”Bet you can’t wait for me to stuff you full of my cock. Hmm? Look at you beg for me. I’m ruining you, honey. Jesus fuck. N’you’re just takin’ me like the whore you are,” he grunts. Rafe adds all four fingers, his strong hands rubbing your bundle of nerves. You hit your crescendo. “That’s it, baby,” he growls. “Cum for me.”

You feel yourself pulsing, shockwaves gripping your body as you ride the waves of your orgasm. Rafe’s fingers slip along your pussy, sinking in and out of your entrance slowly, just playing with you, letting you soak in all your pleasure.

You watch yourself fall apart on camera as Rafe cums with you. The two of you reaching for air, panting and kissing between breathes as he plays with the cum slipping out of your soaked hole, before stuffing it deep inside.

He lift his finger to his lips, sucking them clean before reaching for the remote.

“Round two, princess.”

[deadghosy]

Hi! I hope you're doing great!

So I saw the headcannons of reader as Catnap and Dogday and I fell in love with the way you write! So I was wondering if you could do a headcannon about the reader being bendy from bendy and the ink machine?

Like the reader can draw and bring ink creatures to help around the hotel, maybe draw some decorations for the hotel? Sometimes going full on ink demon form to protect it or just pick up their friends on their back to make them feel taller

And the reader was actually an animator at joey drew studios and died, I think that would be pretty cool!

P.s I would love if the reader was wearing the same suit bendy wore in bendy and the dark revival

HAZBIN HOTEL X BENDY!READER

Prompt: a cute “little” demon becomes a resident who helps with the designs around the hotel!

Starting off. You definitely appeared as baby bendy 😘 with ya cute ass red bow or white bow. What ever you want the bow color as you showed up to the door trying to seem professional as Charlie gushes at your cuteness and lets you in.

The picture of baby bendy in the car, yeah you have that as you literally fuckin' zoom in the hallways drinking apple juice like a bad ass kid….bendy!Reader and chibi!Reader both doing races to make sinners poor😭 lil evil asses….

I imagine Angel dust and Alastor ganging up on you as a team to insult you by your height until you grow up to ink demon from with a roar.

“HOLY SHIT-” “Oh my.” They both said as you they were blew off by the power of your roar. So you felt happy seeing them shocked to see that part of you as Charlie didn’t see it and had commented how adorable you are with your suit.

Shit you are a devil in an angel’s suit‼️

You still wore the suit you had in when you met Audrey…man you miss her. But you are getting taken care of by Charlie and her friends here. Plus her father.

You help design the banners around the place! And even your small ink minions help as well.

I can imagine bendy! Reader being like “fuck it.” Because they can’t reach for the cereal and turn into normal height looking bendy and just starts to act as if it’s normal. While in the background, the crew has pure confusion on their face. Like, “what the fuck? You can be taller?”

“Yeah! Pretty neat right?” “..Im out of here…” husk says walking away as niffty goes up to you excited to talk to you about your height.

You ran over alastor’s foot once….you never speeded over 120 mph in your whole life seeing Alastor chase after you.

I imagine you going to normal height as you are just chilling with your small or long tail swinging and husk gets curious as he picks it up with his paw. “So…this ya tail right here?” You nodded reading the new paper. “So you’re a sinner demon?” “I ain’t nothin'” you said with a smirk as you disappeared in ink.

No one knows what exactly what you are. You don’t have the basic looks to look like a sinner or a hell born. So it’s kinda confusing to other.

You’re obviously a human who died to the ink as you use to animate bendy…so you’re bendy?? Does that make since because whatever you died by is your demon form….hopefully that made sense..

You once went full ink demon mode because a sinner tried to attack at you and husk while just running errands for the hotel. You transformed getting taller with the ink covering your face as you growl and slashes at them with a giant gloved hand covered in ink. And after that husk respected you more.

“Bendy/reader, can you help me make a cute star design?” Vaggie asked as Charlie was trying to make a star gazing banner. You nodded with your cartoony smile and pulls out a marker and started to draw on the air. The star in the air becomes to life as vaggie’s eyes widen.

“Uhm…oh wow. Thanks?” Vaggie says as she walks away with question marks visible while you just smile.

Y’know those dubbed comics where bendy has an accent? I feel like that’s cannon because you and Angel would be babbling about which part of city you guys were from.

I can see sir Pentious and you doing crafts as you made him an ink cartoon flower as he made you a bracelet bead with your name on it.

Lucifer will definitely play violin as you tap dance. Just a wholesome ass moment fr 💗🦆

You one time had fat nuggets in your doom buggy as you guys had shades just chilling around the hotel like bad asses✨

You miss your original family when you were alive and working. But everytime you open your eyes, you are greeted by the sweet comfort of your new family in the hazbin hotel.

You one time made an ink sculpture of your family and you tried to hold your smile but it faltered as you cry at how you missed your family as the ink sculpture melted due to your emotions.

Alastor appeared in your room seeing you sad little state as he comforted you. He had taken a liking to you ever since you joined the crew.

I can see you being childish because of your shortness so you use it to your advantage. YOU AND ALASTOR MAKE YOUR INK DEMONS FIGHT LIKE POKÉMON 😭😭

lol imagine bendy!reader making a whole like of fake ass tarrot cards to fuck with people as you have that smirk on your face.

“You’re gonna get run over toots…watch your back..” “what. The. Fuck-”

They got ran over by a mysterious person and a car….who knew who it was…it was you, you little bastard.

When the hotel has a talent and show day or night, you remembered how you animated bendy to do ballet and tap dancing. So with your information, that’s what you did. Yeah some sinners laughed..but some aplaude as they found it cute and so did your friends

You making ink blob bracelets for your friends as you can make them solid is a goal for real.

Headcannon on how you would try to make ink sculptures, but failing as you huff in anger and smash it with a full ink demon hand as the rest of your body is fine.

Headcannon of you just accidentally leaving ink footprints as you took off your shoes once 😭 niffty doesn’t complain as she likes to clean tho

I can see Lucifer picking your small body up happy for you to be so small as he has started in his eyes. And you are like annoyed at how the cast picks you up like a baby.

LMAO THAT WALMART MEME STOPPP😭😭 LUCIFER PUTS YOU UP TO THE DAMN WALMART CAMERA HAVING ALASTOR ALSO PICK LUCI UP 😭😭

I imagine you and Alastor having either a “bad ass son x calm father” troupe or a “non-biological sibling” troupe as you two get quite along

Your little ass doom buggy is such a weapon when needing to take a troubled guest in the hotel….YOU RAN THEM OVER?! 😨 ALL PEOPLE SEE IS A SMALL ASS INK DEMON HAVING A GUEST SCREAMING AS THEY GET RUNNED OVER TO THE DOOR-

So when the angels came for the battle, you were sure damn ready as you suffocated them in ink and control them into killing their own.

After seeing your full demon form, you definitely had been seen in a different light. They don’t see you as the cute baby bendy they seen you before.

Nah nah. They see you as a grown ass person as you are not in the baby bendy phase but more like the fanart type shit looks. With your charm, you definitely bring in some customers. 

HOPED YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AS THIS IS ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🦆💗 MWAH

[lnfours]

Hi can i request 135+ 146 from prompt one 🫠🤤 thank you!!

oh i am losing my mind, anon.

prompt 135: “you are one pretty little whore. my pretty little whore.”

prompt 146: “we should film this.”

smut (18+ only please!)

join the 12k and annual celebration!

your breathing was ragged as his hips continued to meet yours, his lips attached to the skin of your collarbone. one hand keeping your thigh pressed against his hip, which was helping him fuck you just the way you like it, while the other kept his balance over top of you.

“missed you,” he mumbled, leaving kisses over the fresh mark he had left you, one you’d look back at in the morning and feel the ache between your legs all over again, “so much.”

you smiled, fingers toying with the curls on the nape of his neck, “missed you too,”

it had been weeks since the last time you saw him, since you properly fucked. those damn triple headers.

you moved your head to the right, letting his lips travel across the skin of your neck. you saw his phone on the nightstand and that’s when it hit you.

“we should film this,” you said between whimpers and moans. and you swore you saw his eyes roll to the back of his head when he looked to face you, wanting to make sure he heard you correctly.

“you sure?” he asked, his thrust not altering.

you nodded, “something for you to look back on when you’re away.”

he moaned, nodding before carefully pulling out of you, “fuck, yeah, okay,”

he leaned over your body, grabbing his phone and opening the camera. you smiled at him as he tapped your hip, his eyes on you, “roll over for me, baby.”

you did as he asked, letting him grab your hips and pull you closer. he slid back into you with ease, grabbing at your waist with his freehand before continuing to fuck you at the speed he had previously kept.

“fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he moaned, “does this turn you on? me fucking you and recording it so i can watch it back?”

you nodded into the pillow, moaning a soft, “yes,”

“shit,” he breathed his hand traveling down and softly slapping at your ass that was bouncing with each thrust he made, the new position letting him hit all the spots that made you weak, “you’re one pretty little whore. my pretty little whore.”

you moaned, back arching towards him as he grabbed a handful of your hair, making a makeshift ponytail with his fist, “lando, i’m so close.”

“yeah?” he asked, “gonna come for me, baby?”

you could just nod back at him, the pleasure making you unable to speak as he continued to relentlessly fuck you into the mattress.

you snaked one of your hands between your legs, fingers drawing circles against your clit as you got closer and closer. the moans the man behind you was letting out sending you over the edge as you finally let the orgasm you had been chasing after take over.

“fucking hell,” he moaned, stopping the recording and tossing his phone somewhere on the mattress before both hands gripped your waist, “gonna come.”

you whimpered, his thrusts halting as you squeezed around him. you felt the warm liquid fill you up, moaning as he peppered kisses to your shoulder.

“holy shit,” he mumbled after a brief moment, catching his breath before pulling out of you gently, “you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

you smiled, rolling back onto your back as your boyfriend gaped at you. his eyes fixed on the way his cum leaked out of you. you moaned again when he brought two fingers back to your core, swiping the contents that had been traveling down your thighs back into his fingers before slowly pushing them back into you.

you whimpered, grabbing at his wrist, “what’re you-?”

“can’t let it go to waste, baby.”

[wzkfuu]

:3

Basically Leon just getting edged also yes this is probably gonna be ass👅👅

reader is a women and um um this is SMUT SEXUAL THINGS ARE HAPPENING MDNI!!

okay enjoy

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

Leon’s propped up against his headboard, back at his own apartment. His hand’s wrapped around his cock, pre-come beading at his tip. He bucks up into his fist shallowly, cussing softly to himself as pleasure washes over him.

His eyes flutter shut, images of her , flashing through his mind. Her touching him, feeling him. Her warmth against him, Her soft hands around his cock, whispering dirty obscenities into his ear. In his free hand, he holds his phone— tilted to his ear with the voice message she had sent him recently. He moans aloud, tilting his head back as he replays it over and over again. He loves it, he loves her voice. His other hand thats wrapped around his cock starts stroking faster, his hips bucking up abortedly— he’s so fucking close.

"...oh fuck, —," She hears Leon moan, hearing the whimpers and groans on the other end. Unbeknownst to Leon, while listening to her voice recording, he had pressed call. She had picked it up of course.

“Leon? Is everything alright?” He hears from the other side of the line.

Leon freezes, eyes wide. Holy shit. He’d accidentally called her and she picked up. She heard him. Oh god. He was so close, too. He wanted to just let it go, let himself fall over the edge with her voice in his ear, but his pride stops him. He can’t let her know how fucked up he is, how much he needs this...needs her.

"Uh...yeah. everything's fine." He says breathlessly, trying to play it cool. He clears his throat, hoping she doesn’t notice how ragged it sounds. "Sorry, I must've hit the call button by accident. What's up?"

He keeps stroking himself, slower now, savoring the sensation. It's not the same as when she touches him, but it'll have to do. He bites his lip, stifling another moan as he imagines her watching him, seeing what he's doing. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“Leon are you..are you jerking off right now?” She says whispering the last bit

Leon freezes, eyes widening. Fuck. How did she know? He swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. "I...uh...I don't know what you're talking about..." He lies unconvincingly, his voice strained. He can't deny it, not with the evidence right there in her ear. His ragged breathing, the slick slide of his hand over his cock. He's been caught red-handed.

A part of him wants to hang up, to escape this humiliation. But another part, a darker, needier part, wants to embrace it. Wants her to know exactly what she do to him. He groans softly, his hips twitching up into his fist. "Maybe I am..." He admits, his voice barely above a whisper. He's trembling now, his orgasm building despite his best efforts to hold it back.

"Fuck, baby ... I can't help it. I think about you all the time. About your hands on me, your mouth..." He pants, losing himself in the fantasy. He's so close, teetering on the edge. He just needs a little more. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum. Please, say something else. Anything..." He begs, too far gone to care how desperate he sounds.

“Didn’t know you’d be the type for phone sex Leon. , you’re a little naughty aren’t you?” God , he can practically hear her smirking from here.

Leon groans at her words, his grip on his cock tightening. Fuck, she sounds so good. So dirty. He loves this side of her, loves seeing her let her guard down. Loves knowing that he's the one who brings it out in her.

"Yeah...yeah, I am. I'm fucking naughty. Especially when it comes to you." He growls, his voice low and rough with desire. He starts stroking faster, chasing his release. He's so close, he can feel it building at the base of his spine. His balls draw up tight, his body tensing.

"I want you, baby. I want to bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk straight. I want to make you scream my name." He pants, his words coming out in broken gasps. He's right on the edge, teetering, waiting for her permission to let go.

"Please... please tell me to cum. I need it. I need you baby..please..." He begs, his voice breaking. He's shaking now, his body wound tight with tension. He's never needed anyone like this before. Never wanted someone so badly. He needs her so so badly, needs her touch, her approval. Needs everything she can give him.

“No. You’re gonna wait since you lied to me at first .” She smiles lying down on her own bed feeling the wetness in her panties slowly circling around her clit.

Leon whines as she denies him release, his cock throbbing in frustration. He's so fucking close, he can taste it. But she’s right, he did lie to her. He deserves this punishment.

"Fuck, baby. Please, I'm sorry. I'll take it back, I swear. Just let me cum." He begs, his voice high and needy. He hates how desperate he sounds, but he can't help it. His body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

He keeps stroking himself, teasing the sensitive head. He knows he shouldn't, knows he'll just make it worse. But he can't stop. He's addicted to the sensation, to the pleasure.

"I'll do anything, baby. Anything you want. Just please, don't leave me like this. I need you." He sobs, his hips bucking up into his hand. He's a mess, he knows. A pathetic, whimpering mess. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is her , about pleasing her.

He's shaking now, his body wracked with need. He's never felt anything like this before, never been so consumed by desire. He needs her, needs her touch, her approval.

"Baby.., please... I'll be good. I promise. I'll make it so good for you. Just tell me what to do..." He pleads, his voice breaking. He's begging now, shameless in his need. He'll do anything she asks, anything at all. As long as she doesn’t leave him hanging like this , desperately stroking his cock with all that pathetic whining.

“Don’t do anything. I’ll be there soon.” He hears before the call ends now sitting there waiting.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

this is such an open request BUT you should do anything to do w steviepop we need more of them

Finally I’m writing Ponyboy discovering Steviepop lol. It’s been discussed before on here, by myself and plenty of others, but I don’t think anyone’s written a full thing for it yet, so here we are lol!

Will cross post to Ao3 soon as this is up lol

-

 Ponyboy freezes at the porch, hand hovering over the doorknob.

  Through the window, Soda’s on the couch kissing a girl. 

  That wouldn’t be so strange on its own- sure, Soda usually has the tact to keep all the girl-kissing to his bedroom, but it’s not unheard of- except for one detail.

  He’s kissing Evie.

  Steve Randle’s girl.

  Soda’s best friend’s girl.

  “Holy shit,” Curly Shepard whispers, eyes wide as dinner plates.

  Pony blinks, making sure he’s seein’ this right.

  Evie’s on top of Soda, and Pony can’t think of anyone else who has long curly chestnut-colored hair like that, so he knows it’s gotta be Evie. Beyond that, her arm, which is wrapped around Soda’s neck, is covered in freckles. No other brown-skinned girl Pony’s met has freckles like Evie.

  “No way he’s kissin’ Randle’s gal!” Curly exclaims, nudging Ponyboy as if he has somehow missed it. “What’d Randle do to piss him off, ya think?”

  “She’s probably forcin’ him?!” Ponyboy tries to rationalize.

  “Oh he sure don’t look forced!” 

  Sure enough, Soda’s kissing back just as hard. His hands are on Evie’s waist under her blouse, and he’s got a look on his face that Ponyboy’s never wanted to see on his brother.

  “But- but Steve…” Pony stutters.

  How could Soda do this?! How could he sit there necking his best buddy’s girl?!

  “They must’ve broken up, right?!” Ponyboy offers, running a sweaty hand through his hair.

  “No way…I saw her with Randle just earlier today, holdin’ hands at the DX,” Curly insists.

  Pony swallows. “Shit…oh shit.”

-

  Ponyboy swings the door of the DX store open, bells jingling. 

  “What’re you doin’ here?” Steve asks, his dark eyes narrowed. He’s chewing bubblegum, and leaning on the counter by the register. “Soda ain’t ‘round, and babies don’t get no discount.”

  Ponyboy bites back a scowl. Maybe Steve deserves to have his girl two-time him with Soda, he thinks for a second.

  “I know,” Ponyboy says, lowering his voice. “I ain’t lookin’ for Soda. I’m lookin’ for you.”

  Steve wrinkles his nose. “...Why?” 

  Ponyboy looks around, confirming that the place is empty of listening eyes. “D’ya have a break comin’ up? It’s…sorta serious,” he murmurs.

  Steve frowns, eyebrows raising. “Serious?” he repeats, voice losing its hard edge. “Are you in trouble?” he says, eyes flicking to the door. Quieter, he says “You ain’t in another…murder wrap, are ya?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s about…” Ponyboy swallows, stomach turning. How can he betray Soda like this, Soda who he loves, Soda who gets him in a way no one else does?! 

  But he’s gotta. It isn’t fair to Steve.

  Ponyboy sighs. “...It’s about uh…Soda.”

  Bemused, Steve wrings his hands. “Shoot, Pony, I ain’t got a break comin’ up, just closin’ time in half an hour. What’s up with Soda?”

  Ponyboy tries to answer, but his mouth is dry. 

  “He ain’t in…trouble, is he? Is he okay?” Steve says, brows drawing together. The waver in his voice does a lousy job of hiding his concern. God, it kills Ponyboy, hearing Steve so worried about Soda, about his best friend- and Ponyboy’s never much liked the guy, but Steve clearly cares so much about Soda. He wonders for the thousandth time today how the hell Soda could do this to Steve?

  Soda, who held Steve at night when his old man kicked him out- Ponyboy wasn’t supposed to see that, but he’d needed water, and he’d seen the two of them on the couch, Steve’s head on Soda’s chest, curled up close and crying. Soda had been whispering things that Ponyboy couldn’t make out and stroking Steve’s hair, trying to sooth him. When he’d caught sight of Pony, he’d tilted his head back at the hall authoritatively, and Pony had ran back  to his room as fast as he could…

  God, Pony can’t imagine that. How can you care about someone enough to hold him, hug him, cry with him and care for him, but also fall for his girl?!

  “Yeah, yeah, Randle, Soda’s okay,” Ponyboy says, feeling like the worst person in the world. “Everyone is okay, physically. But there’s a problem you should know about…” he trails off. What if Steve can’t forgive Soda? What if Soda loses his best friend because of Ponyboy?!

  “Well spit it out, Racehorse,” Steve says sarcastically.

  “Look I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t really know what’s happening, and I coulda seen wrong- But Steve, yesterday I saw…I saw Soda and Evie neckin’ on the couch.” Ponyboy says, closing his eyes tight. He doesn’t wanna see the look that’ll be on Steve’s face. He can’t. 

  “Oh…yeah…” Steve says finally. And he doesn’t sound distraught, just…unsure…? Ponyboy opens his eyes to get a better look at him. 

  Steve doesn’t look surprised. His eyes are squinted like he’s trying to pick words to say, and he’s still smacking on his pink bubblegum. It’s like Ponyboy told him that the highschool isn’t doing wrestling this year or something- mildly concerning, but ultimately not connected at all to Steve personally.

  “That’s…your Evie, I mean,” Ponyboy clarifies, waiting for some reaction.

  Steve nods. “Yeah, Einstein, what other Evies do we know?” he says, without any real heat. “Uh…I ‘ppreciate your tellin’ me, ‘n all,” he says, fiddling with a pen behind the counter. “I guess that musta been hard for ya, so.”

  Ponyboy frowns. Yeah, it was, but that’s…not the takeaway he expected at all.

  “Ain’t you gonna…say somethin’?” Pony says, in a small voice.

  Steve takes a deep breath, glancing at the back office. “Uhm…yeah…somethin’. Right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, kid, I uh…I kinda know…about that,” he says, speaking haltingly.

  Ponyboy blinks incredulously. Steve Randle once yelled at him for breathing too loud, and yet he’s this calm about his girlfriend cheating on him?!

  “...What?” Ponyboy says.

  Steve sucks his teeth. “Yeah…no, we have um…well. You know, Evie’s always dug your brother, and with Sandy outta the picture…uh…shoot. No, I mean…er…” he stammers, nervous in a way Pony has never seen him be before. “I ain’t tellin’ this well,” he grumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face. He sighs. “Look, Ponyboy, you can’t be tellin’ anyone ‘bout this, okay? Because it’s sorta a secret…” he trails off.

  “What is it?!”

  Steve looks at the office again, making sure the manager can’t hear him. “Okay kid, you wanna know the score?” he says, voice dropping to a whisper. He leans closer. “I’ll tell ya the score: Your brother, Evie, and me have a bit of an…arrangement…with each other,” he explains, waving his hand back and forth. “We both dig Evie, ‘n she digs us, so…”

  “You share her?!” Pony whisper-shouts.

  Steve cringes. “I mean- I guess that’s a way of puttin’ it,” he says reluctantly. “But it ain’t quite…like that…” he frowns, righting himself. “Look, I dunno what Soda wants his kid brother to know, okay? An’ frankly, I dunno how much I think you gotta know. So…ask him about it, yeah?”

  “But you’re…okay with this?!”

   “Yeah,” Steve says, eyes half-lidded. He smiles dopily. “I’m real okay with it,” he murmurs.

  Ponyboy leans back, getting mental images that he doesn’t like. He’s probably nuts, but for a second, he wonders- do Steve and Soda share…each other, too?! 

  He shoves the thought outta his head fast, because Soda can’t be a queer. Ponyboy would know if his brother was queer…wouldn’t he? And Steve can’t be either- he’s so tough,  so…so…indelicate. …Right?

  But then again…Ponyboy never thought Steve would be okay with sharing his girlfriend, either…so maybe he doesn’t know anything at all.

  He leaves the DX feeling dazed, with one thought on his mind- What the hell just happened?!

-

  “Hey Pepsi-Cola, get this- your kid brother’s onto us,” Steve says, walking into Evie’s room. He trades his work shirt for one of the sweatshirts he’s left on the floor of her closet.

  Soda and Evie both look at him, Soda looking nervous and Evie amused. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Steve says, sprawling out across their thighs so his head’s in Soda’s lap and his shoulders and torso are on Evie’s. “He stopped by today, told me he’d seen yous twos- an’ I quote,” he smirks, “Neckin’ on the couch.”

  Soda flushes, cursing under his breath. “The lil’ jerk saw that?!” he says, but his voice is drenched in that sickening affection it always is when talking about his little brother. 

  “Maybe he heard it. You’re pretty loud,” Evie says, wiggling her sharp eyebrows.  

  “Aw, shuddup,” Soda says, trying and failing to stifle a smile.

  “No, no, she’s right,” Steve grins pointedly. Soda sticks out his tongue and rests his hand on Steve’s face. 

  “But seriously,” Soda says, paleing, “Ponyboy saw us?”

  “Yeah. Poor kid was freakin’ out, too,” Steve says, shaking his head. “He felt real bad about tellin’ me, you could tell he didn’t wanna expose ya, but he said he thought I oughta know.”

  “And what’d you tell him?” Evie asks, poking his side. 

  Steve chews his lip. “Well, to tell ya the truth, I didn’t rightly know what to say. Didn’t think you wanted him to know about uh…our whole deal, an’ all, Soda.”

  “But what’d ya tell him?” Evie prods, squeezing his hand.

  Steve shrugs, or at least as much as he can lying down. “I told him that the three of us have…an arrangement, ‘cos me an’ you,” he nods at Soda, “both like you,” he says, squeezing Evie’s hand back. “The kid couldn’t get his head ‘round the fact that I’m okay with it,” he adds, chuckling. 

  “Well, to be fair, you get pretty jealous sometimes, buddy,” Soda teases, ruffling his hair.

  “Only of other folks,” Steve defends. Yeah, he’d be real jealous seein’ Soda or Evie flirting with a guy or girl who isn’t him. But when it’s with each other, it just feels…right, or something. Like things are exactly how they should be, and everything is lovely, even on the east side. “Anyhow,” Steve says, “I told him he oughta ask you about it, because I wasn’t sure how much ya wanted me to say.”

   Soda hums. “Well gee, Steve, that’s tough. I dunno how much you wanna say. ‘Cos he finds out I’m…queer, then he finds out you ain’t so solid neither.”

  Steve swallows. Glory, he knows that. He knows it well. 

  The thing is, he’s not queer, really. Not exactly. Not like those flits at the bars in New York or San Francisco. Not like those men who dressed like women. He’s not- he’s not like them. He doesn’t care about the looks of other guys, he doesn’t give a damn about abs or muscles if they ain’t his own.

  It’s just…Soda. 

  God, he just. He can’t help loving Soda. He can’t. He tried not to, Lord knows he tried not to, but he does. He loves how Soda looks, how Soda talks, how Soda can make him melt with just a smile. He loves how Soda’s grin’s a little crooked and how his dimples are deeper on one side than the other. Ever since he was a kid, all he’s ever wanted is to run away with Soda, get outta Tulsa, and drive ‘round together forever.

   But then, he’d never cared much for girls either, not until Evie. Sure, he’d torn through those Playboy magazines with Johnny and Dally, and yeah, he’d watched those Marilyn Monroe flicks with Two-Bit, but he never got how they could really get anything outta it. He figured he just wasn’t wired to jack off normal-like.

  But when Evie first touched him, it was like he’d discovered a whole new feeling. Like he’d been seeing in black and white, and she’d turned it technicolor. She’d sat on his lap in the drive-in, and suddenly he understood what Dally meant when he told him about his exploits. 

  Except it wasn’t fully new, either. He’d felt something like that for years around Soda. 

  But he didn’t dig too deep into it, because that was just…Soda. 

  It’s like Steve can only love Soda and Evie, and no other guy or gal in all the world. So he isn’t…that queer. Not really…not exactly. And so…yeah, he isn’t totally sure he wants Ponyboy to think of him like…that…

  But he doesn’t wanna pretend he doesn’t love Soda either. 

  Steve sighs. “…Just tell the kid the truth, I guess.”

  Soda smiles, very slightly. “Really?”

  “Before I change my mind, wise guy,” Steve growls, but he doesn’t really mean it. 

  He loves Sodapop Curtis and Evie Peterson, and he wants the whole world to know it. But considering the context…he’ll settle for just Ponyboy.

  -

  “Hey, Pony?” Soda says in a hushed voice as he slinks into their shared bedroom. Ponyboy’s seated at his desk, drawing doodles on his homework, and he glances up.

  “Hey, Sodapop,” he greets, trying to sound casual. Like he didn’t just find out Soda and Steve had been secretly dating the same girl, and like he didn’t think that was the weirdest thing he’d ever heard.

  “How was your day?” Soda asks hesitantly.

  “It was…okay,” Pony says, not wanting to be the one to mention the elephant in the room. “So you uh…went out tonight again, I see? How was that?”

  “Oh yeah, it was nice,” Soda nods, “Real nice. Hung out at the gal’s house, talked about uh…life and stuff. Turns out she digs horses too, only she learned English style, not Western,” Soda says, shrugging off his jacket. 

  “So ya talked about horses. How’d…Steve like that?” Pony prompts. Soda freezes for just a fraction of a second, but then he’s flopping onto the bed like nothing’s the matter.

  “He didn’t love it,” Soda says, grinning, “but just you wait, we’ll make a cowboy of him yet.”

  “You an’…Evie?” Pony says finally. 

  “…Yes,” Soda says, propping himself up on his elbow, “me an’ Evie.” He’s still smiling, but his expression has grown just a hint guarded.

  “So Steve wasn’t lyin’. Y’all do…share her,” Pony mutters.

  “No, he wasn’t,” Soda nods. “But y’know…that ain’t the full…story…” he says, voice wavering. He looks at the wall. “Ponyboy, listen, the thing about it is…” he trails off, eyes getting glossy.

  Pony hurls himself onto the bed next to his brother, and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Sodapop, you can tell me.”

  Soda smiles feebly. “Oh Pony, I don’t mean to be such a bawl baby about it, I really don’t. I dunno what’s up with me…” he says with a half-baked chuckle. “I just don’t…I don’t want ya seein’ me different, you dig?”

  “You’re in love with Steve Randle, ain’t ya?” Pony blurts out. Soda goes stiff under his arm. But when he speaks, his voice is steady.

  “Yeah. Pony, I…I’m…I am.” He closes his eyes, and whispers “…Don’t tell Darry.”

  “Sodapop, Darry won’t be mad…he loves ya, no matter what,” Pony reassures. Even though you have terrible taste.

  “Yeah, but… He’ll worry. He worries too much now. I don’t want him to worry ’bout me, too…” Soda exhales. When he turns to meet Pony’s eyes, Pony sees that Soda’s silently crying, with tears running down his cheeks.

  Ponyboy hugs Soda, running his hands through his greasy blond hair. “It’s okay, Pepsi-Cola. It’s okay…” He pauses. “You know, Oscar Wilde was queer.”

  Soda laugh-sobs into Pony’s shoulder. “Who the hell is that?”

  “Author. Really great one. Real famous. I ain’t read his stuff, but everyone who has says it’s amazing. And he was queer.” Pony says. “So you know. It’s tuff.”

  “…Thanks, Pony,” Soda says, slowing his shuddering. He pulls away and rubs his eyes. “…Thanks.”

  “I won’t tell no one,” Pony promises. “I think you oughta tell Darry, but you ain’t gotta, and I sure won’t.”

  “So you don’t think it’s…” Soda trails off.

  “I think it’s alright, man. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. Alls I’m wonderin’ is why you and Evie both want Steve-”

  “Aw, shut yer trap,” Soda laughs, tackling Pony onto the bed. “Stevie’s real sweet whenever you ain’t in the room, an’ if you ain’t careful with that mouth of yours, I may just have to tell ya ‘bout all the things he does to get me blushin’-”

  “GROSS!” Pony yells, all semblance of support dropped at the mental image of Steve and Soda in…that context. “Gush about that to your girlfriend, and lemme live in my blissful ignorance!”

  Soda grins, hopping up off the bed. “Y’know, Darry’s sleepin’…I think I will!”

  -

[dancingtotuyo]

1. mirror in the sky

Landslide | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: An unexpected encounter with Joel Miller jump starts a series of events right out of your wildest dreams.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: age gap (approx 13 years), past baby sitter, TV show basis, grief & loss, trauma, anxiety attack, consumption of alcohol

Notes: AHHHHHHH I'm so excited for this! I've been sitting on top of a no outbreak version of these two since before I posted the first chapter of Woman! How appropraite that I bring you the first chapter of Landslide on the first anniversary of Woman. Thank you all for all of your love and support this past year!

What?! @guiltyasdave beta read this?! I never would have guessed that! (love you xoxo)

Words: 3844

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

You don’t know how you make it to the Austin suburb unscathed. You shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a vehicle, muchless driving an extra 20 minutes, but you need to be home. Not your lonely, one bedroom apartment in the city- but home where mom is cooking dinner and dad is watching the football game, where dad keeps it a chilly 68 inside despite the heat. 

The tears come in silent waves on the drive over, but by the time you pull into the driveway, sobs pound at the dam, waiting for it to burst. As soon as the key pulls loose from the ignition, you stumble out of your car, almost tripping up the front stairs. You have to see your parents. It repeats on a loop in your fucking mind. Everything will be fine once you see them. You go for the door knob, but it's locked. Panic scratches at your throat. You try it again, expecting another result. The front door is never locked. 

Your palms collide with the hardwood door. “Mom! Dad!” You can’t seem to draw in satisfying breaths. Your face is drenched in tears and sweat as the panic and Texas heat work in tandem against you. 

It doesn’t cross your mind that they might not be home. Your parents are boring. They’re stuck in their habits. They’re always at home on Thursday evenings. It is Thursday, right? You lost track of time during your shift. It was never ending. 

Your palms sting. It feels like forever, but finally, the door opens. You fall forward. Hands shoot out to steady you. “Woah, there.”

That’s not your dad’s voice. It stuns you just enough to make everything in your body work for a minute. “Joel?” What’s he doing here? Where are your parents? You just want to hug your mom and snuggle on the couch with your dad like you’re 6 years old again. Did something happen to them? The panic comes back double, your body shaking this time. “Where are my parents?” The tears are blinding. “Where are they!”

“Holy shit, Sweetheart.” Joel pulls you inside the house.

You stumble over the threshold falling into him. He slams the door behind you, his arms tightening around your shoulders. “Why aren’t they home? They’re alway home.” You’re hyperventilating. You know it, but you can’t stop it. 

Before Joel can answer, your legs give out. He barely avoids tipping over and landing on top of you. Somehow, he manages to lower you both to the ground without any major damage. 

“They left for their anniversary trip today.”

Fuck, so it was Friday. You’d forgotten all about their 30th anniversary trip. You’d spent more time inside the ER than out of it the past few weeks, picking up as many shifts as possible. Trying to avoid the approaching Anniversary. The one that came just weeks after your parents’.

You try to repeat the words in your head. They’re okay. They’re halfway to Europe now. It does little to help soothe the ache in your chest. 

Joel runs his hand up and down your back. “Shhhhh, it’s okay. Everyone is okay.” He pushes back the hair that sticks to your face. Your sharp intakes of breath eventually die down to sporadic and shaky. “That’s it. Deep breaths.”

Eventually you settle, letting your head rest against the door. Your throat feels tight, your sinuses stuffy, and your chest aches. 

“Stay right here. I’ll bring you some water,” Joel says. 

He’s gone before you have the wherewithal to thank him. 

You wipe the mixture of fluids on your face away with the back of your hand: tears, sweat, snot, probably some drool. God, you must look a mess right. You eye the tissue box across the room but the thought of moving makes your brain hurt and your muscles sting. You wipe the back of your hand discreetly against the clean scrub pants you changed into before leaving work. 

Joel comes back into the room with a glass of ice water. Condensation drips down the sides teasing your drying throat. He grabs the tissue box without a second thought.  

“Here.” He sits back down on the floor with you, carefully handing you the glass of water.

You thank him, making sure the glass doesn’t slip through your fingers. The water is cool and soothing against your scratchy throat. You don’t think, tipping it back further until your worn out esophagus can’t keep up and you sputter, choking on the water. It spills from your mouth, following the lines of your throat until it dips under your neckline. 

“Woah there, slow down.” Joel takes the cup from you as you cough. “We don’t need you choking today too.” 

You can’t help the little uptick of your lips as you struggle to recover. His care and concern is sweet and- no, he’s 13 years your senior, you chide. You gave this stupid crush up last summer the morning after the Randolf’s pool party. You’d woken up and were flooded with the memories, the lines you swore you’d never cross. Thankfully, Joel was either an oblivious son of a bitch, or you were more subtle than you remember. Whichever it was, it doesn’t matter anymore. You are over Joel Miller. 

The dark green shirt that stretches around his biceps doesn’t phase you. Neither does the tool belt slung low around his hips, or the fact that you’re alone in your parents home. Your brain pulls you out of the thirsting that you are not doing, and focuses on that detail. “Joel, what are you doing in my parents’ house?”

“I’m renovatin upstairs.”

Something about that strikes a chord within you. “The 25th anniversary bathroom renovation?” You smile and Joel almost looks relieved to see you return to the version he’s used to. 

“Except it’s the bedroom now too. I think your mom called it interest.” He laughs. 

“Sounds about right.”

“Now,” he props his arms over his knees. “What are you doing here? I thought you got too good for us and moved into the city,” he teases as he nudges you softly. 

You roll your eyes, but the light squishes out when you close your eyes. The images play on repeat behind them. Your heart rate surges again, you feel your breath begin to quicken. 

Joel’s hand lands on your knee, the other cups your neck. “Hey.”

Your eyes snap open. His soft brown ones are closer than you’ve ever seen them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve asked.” 

You sign rubbing the tension from your neck. “I just worked 36 hours straight.”

“Holy fuck, isn’t that illegal or something?” 

You shake your head. “Discouraged, but the ER was a madhouse, just one thing after the other. We had a big trauma come in and none of us felt like we could leave. I got a few hours sleep at the hospital before my scheduled shift started.” You’re starting to feel the come down of the past few days and your panic attack. 

Joel looks concerned, like he’s looking you over for any physical injuries. Something that would explain your panic. 

You don’t let him ask anymore questions. “We had this car accident come in- yesterday? I can’t even tell you when.” You can’t get the knot out of your neck. You groan in frustration. 

“C’mere,” Joel motions you over. “I’ll get it.”

You listen, too tired to fight it or over analyze it. His thumbs dig into your tight muscles. You catch the moan before it falls out. “A couple UT students.” 

You contemplate spilling details, but they’re covered in blood, marrying with last year’s events. You can still feel the blood soaking through your scrubs. 

Joel pauses before catching a knot in your shoulder. You gasp in pain, but it feels good too. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

“No, keep going.” You say, and he listens. “They got hit by a drunk driver.”

Joel sucks in a breath. You know he’s thinking back to last fall, the accident that turned your family’s life upside down. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to see since the call came in, so eerily similar to last year. The surrounding events. The injuries. You were working the ER when they brought Carter’s mangled and bloody body in. You watched, helpless to do anything as your friends and colleagues tried to bring him back. You listened as they declared time of death. Even now, you hear the ringing of the flatlining monitor in your ears. 

Joel pulls you into a tight hug, your arms hanging limply at your sides. The exhaustion is just too much, but you appreciate it. It helps, makes you feel less alone. “Thank you.”

“Course.” He gives you another squeeze. “Let me finish working out your back.” 

You oblige, tension melting away as his fingers work toward your spine and then downward. You’d been on your feet for the better part of 2 days, and that was the least of it. 

You let out a long, deep breath, body beginning to settle. “Where’d you learn to do this?” You lean into his hands to increase the pressure. 

“Got real good at ’em when Pam was pregnant with Sarah.” You’re not sure you’ve ever heard Joel mention his estranged ex-wife so casually. 

“God, can’t imagine what would possess a woman to leave hands like yours.” The words slip out before you even have a chance to think through the implications of everything you just said. 

His hands stop moving, palms flat against your lower back. Heat rises to your cheeks in mortification. “Shit, Joel. I’m sorry. Obviously that’s not even an actual reason to stay. Like you have Sarah and that’s an actual reason and I can’t-“ Laughter cuts off the words cascading from your lips. 

You turn around to find Joel leaned back, his chest shaking as laughter comes from his belly, filling your parents' quiet home. You swear you even see a tear or two come from his eyes. One thing is for certain, Joel Miller is not stressed right now and he certainly wasn’t bothered by your comment. Quite the opposite actually. 

It’s contagious as the smile passes over your face. Your chest begins to shake. Mostly, you’re enjoying this rare sight. His crows’ feet crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Your heart skips a beat but you rein it in. 

Joel wipes the side of his eyes. “Pretty sure I was supposed to make you feel better.”. 

“You did.” 

“Glad to hear it.” He groans as he rises to his feet. “I’m getting too old to sit on the floor like that.” 

He offers his hand. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. “Thank you, Joel.”

He nods. “I need to get back to work. I told Sarah I’d be home by 6 tonight.” 

“What time is it?” 

Joel looks down at his watch. You took Sarah into the city last fall to get it fixed for his birthday. “Just past four.” 

You stare up the steps, contemplating staying in your childhood bedroom tonight. You don’t have the energy to make the 20 minute drive home. Your energy is draining by the second. 

“You need sleep, and probably a shower.”

“Showered at work.” The stairs look like Mount Everest to your weary bones. “Think I'll crash on the couch.”

Joel sees it. “You’d still have clothes here?”

“There’s a set of pajamas I left at Christmas in my old room.”

“I’ll get them for you.”

“Room with-“

“The pink walls.” He chuckles, stomping up the stairs. Guess it was obvious seeing as you’re the only girl. 

You’re standing in the exact spot he left you in when Joel gets back. Your sleep shorts, and thin top in his hands. “Thanks.”

“No problem, and if you need anything while you’re here, just come over. Sarah and I will be home all weekend. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll stop by at some point. I’d love to see her too.”

You hadn’t seen Sarah since her soccer tournament this spring. You’d lived with your parents for almost a year after graduation before moving into the city to work at the only Level 1 trauma center in the area. 

Joel nods then stomps back up the steps. You change in the bathroom before folding into your parents' oversized sectional. It smells like comfort and all things nice. You can hear Joel working in your parents’ space upstairs, but it quickly fades as the darkness takes over. 

You wake up disoriented, not sure where you are. It’s completely dark around you, but you pull at little threads as they’re given. You’re definitely not in your bed. You can’t hear the city noises below your apartment. You sit up only to be greeted with a splitting headache. You’re in your parents' home. Everything comes filtering back through your brain. You shudder. You don’t want to think about it. 

You shove the blanket off your legs in a pursuit of water and advil. You don’t remember pulling a blanket over yourself, but quite frankly, you could’ve done anything in your sleep deprived state. The water dissolves the cotton in your mouth, but does little to dull the aching in your skull. You’ll have to wait for the drugs to kick in for that. The stove clock says it’s 2 am. 

You wander back to the couch, but the moment you lay down, the restlessness sets in. You toss and turn but your body says no. Finally, your headache has reduced to a dull ache, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of things. 

You know you need more sleep. You should probably sleep for 24 hours straight after the shift you just had, but you sit up again, brushing your hair out of your face. This is ridiculous. Your sleep schedule is already fucked up enough as is. Maybe you should start working the night shift. 

You pace through the dark house. You know the layout like the back of your hand. Your mother hasn’t so much as moved the furniture since you moved into this house when you were 6. 

You step out on the porch for air. It’s cooled down some. You contemplate driving home, but the peacefulness of the neighborhood is comforting. You can almost ignore the ache in your chest, pretend your brother is still alive. 

Across the street, you catch Joel’s TV playing some corny action movie through his big living room windows. You catch the outline of his head, the rehearsed movement of bringing a bottle to one’s lips. He’s not asleep.  

Your heart beats a little heavier in your chest. He had said to come over if you needed anything.  Right now, you need company. It might be the lack of sleep, but your bare feet hit the asphalt without a second thought as you cross the street. Your brain doesn’t even register what you’re doing until you knock on the door. 

You contemplate running away. Who doesn’t love a good game of ding dong ditch? You certainly did in your heyday. Why not relive the glory days when you ran this street?

The door opens pushing away all of the swirling thoughts in your mind. The cicadas play white noise in the background leaving your sole focus on Joel’s concerned brown eyes and your raging pulse. 

“You okay?” 

“I just- I saw your TV on. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” 

He gives you a soft smile, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

You exhale almost in relief, stepping across the familiar threshold. Part of you eases, but another tightens up. You’ve spent so many hours in this house, many late nights here, but never with Joel, with him watching you with such concern. Heat flares up your neck. 

“Can I get you anything? A snack? A drink?”

“It’s two a.m.”

“You’re the one who knocked on my door.” Joel teases.

“You told me to come over if I needed anything.”

“So what do you need?” The hour of the night scratches at his voice, sending a charge through the air. 

Your eyes snap up to his, knowing he didn’t mean anything by it other than to be kind, but it doesn’t help the way your skin prickles. You swallow down the lump that forms in your throat. “Company.” Joel smiles at you. Your eyes dart down to his lips. “And some water, please.”

“Coming right up.” He turns for the kitchen before you can do anything foolish. 

You rub your eyes, hoping to clear your head. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, it runs through our mind. Your inhibitions are lowered after the high flying emotions of the day. You can’t fall into his arms. They’re not open for you, not like that. 

You settle into the corner of the couch, pulling your knees to you chest as the familiar smell envelops you. A cheesy action movie plays lowly on the tv. Joel isn’t too far behind, passing off a glass of water as he eases onto the middle of the couch, arms spread across the back of the sofa. He doesn’t say anything, returning his attention to the tv. You appreciate that he doesn’t ask too many questions. He’s just letting you be. 

You attempt to watch the movie, but it’s bad, almost endearingly bad, but Joel seems to enjoy it. He’s the thing holding your attention. Joel is a good distraction. You’ve never gotten the chance to admire his profile in this way, this close, this undisturbed. If Joel catches on to your staring, he doesn’t let on. He lets you study. 

At some point, your mind takes over again, reminding you of the brother you no longer have, of the deep cavern in your soul. It doesn’t pour out of you like it did earlier with the fury of a hurricane. This is more like a peaceful stream, tears silently gathering in your eyes, falling with little fanfare. 

Joel’s hand falls to your knee, squeezing it softly. It’s the only acknowledgement from him, but it’s what you need. Long after your tears are gone, Joel’s hand stays, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the inside of your leg. 

Some line makes Joel chuckle as he shifts further into the couch. Your legs have fallen out in front of you, one brushing his thigh. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this close to him, unless you count last summer when you got drunk at the Randolf’s party. Embarassment floods your system, making you withdraw your legs slightly. 

Joel’s brow furrows, head turning to you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, not sure you’re convincing. “I’m just shifting.”

He gives you a once over from top to bottom. Your stomach dips. You know he means nothing by it, but your body doesn’t get the memo. As if to make matters worse, Joel slings his arm back over both your legs, pulling them over his lap. It tugs you closer, pressing more of you against him. Nothing about it is inherently sexual, but your body is on fire. 

You can smell him. The mixture of fading old spice and the ever present smell of dirt that has seared itself to him. You can’t take your eyes off his profile now. You’re close enough to count his eye lashes if you wanted to. In all your life, you never though you would be this close to him, with his hands on you. 

It’s not like that. It’s not like that, you repeat in your head because it’s not. Joel would never look at you like that. He’s too good of a guy. He’s just showing you comfort, but you can’t stop looking at him. The temptation to make a move so close, it’s hard to ignore. It’s not like that.

It’s like your brain is running a million miles a second, taking Joel in, his proximity, while clinging tightly to the thread of self control that keeps you from closing the gap.

Then he’s looking at you and he’s so close. Lights from the tv flicker off his brown eyes, drawing you in further. It wouldn’t take much effort to press your lips to his. Before you can stop yourself, years of college party instincts take over and you kiss him. You kiss Joel Miller. 

It’s a soft, lingering kiss, and then your mind forces you to withdraw. Joel sits still as a statue. He didn’t really kiss you back, but he didn’t push you away, and then it all comes crashing down. This isn’t some fucking frat party. He’s not a peer. This is Joel Miller. You spring to your feet. 

“Shit- fuck, Joel. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Your hands tangle in your hair. “I should go.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Joel stands. His hand cups your elbow, head stooping to be at eye level with yours. Tears shine in your eyes again. 

“It’s not actually.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperate to stop them. You’re not sure you can handle more tears right now. 

“Sweetheart, I promise. It’s not a big deal. You’re goin through a lot.” 

Your shoulders drop with relief. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight if you don’t want to be alone. I’ll take the couch.” 

And you want to say yes so badly. It sits on the tip of your tongue. You imagine what it would be like to curl up under his sheets, be immersed in him, but you swallow the quick response down. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay at home.” 

Joel nods. You think you catch some relief in his eyes. He probably wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. 

“I don’t know how long you’re planning to hang around, but you’re welcome to join us for breakfast tomorrow. Sarah usually makes pancakes on Saturdays. I’m not a huge pancake person, but she loves it.”

You decide at that moment Joel Miller is a saint. You just made a fool of yourself. He shouldn’t want to see you again, let you around his kid, but he invites you over for breakfast, offers up his bed. 

“I’ll think about it.” You walk to the door. “Thanks. For everything.” You mean it too. 

“Of course. It’s what neighbors are for.”

You laugh. “Pretty sure this goes past the moral obligations of being neighbors.”

Joel shrugs. “You’ve been the one steady female influence in Sarah’s life. Pretty sure it goes past the moral obligations of being a babysitter.”’

A smile ghosts over your lips. “Goodnight, Joel.”

You open the front door. The wood of the front porch is still warm against your bare feet. Joel leans against the door frame. “Night, Sweetheart.” 

You wave, dashing across the street. You know you’re imagining it when you feel Joel watching you until your parents front door is shut behind your back, but you never hear his front door close. 

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

I carried over the taglist from Woman. If you were tagged and no longer want to be, please let me know! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

[billskeis]

bill smut where he has a sort of wet dream and eats out the reader in her sleep (w her consent ofc) and then she softly rides him once she wakes up because theyre both pretty tired since its like late?? TYY

ᡣ𐭩 sleepy sex w bill

eyes wide open, bill couldn’t help but softly groan at the growing tightness in his pants. his highly vivid imaginations during the night had led him to dream about you and him engaging in well.. some very, indecent activities.

he knows exactly what to do about this, problem.

turning to his left side, he looks at your sleeping body. turned away from him cuddling the plush that he bought for you on one of your first dates. it specifically was a hedgehog and you wanted that one because it reminded you of him.

he wishes that were him you were hugging. and due to the lack of attention he’s receiving, decides that now is the time for payback.

lucky for him, all you wore to bed that night was a tank top and your panties. this for him, by all means, gives him easy access to what he desires the most. sliding down the bed to reach your lower body, he slides his hands up and down your legs, feeling the supple skin under his touch.

inhaling a deep breath, his fingers meet the edges of your panties to which he begins to slide down your legs ever so slowly, allowing them to hook at the ends of your ankles.

squirming a bit, he firmly holds your thighs down with each of his hands, head leaning into your cunt to lick a long stripe.

drawing his tongue between your folds, he’ll occasionally switch from doing that, inserting his tongue in and suckling on your clit. this leads you to stir awake from your slumber, grabbing onto the black locks on his head from in between your legs.

“b-bill..” “m’ sorry meine liebe..but i need you so bad right now.”

he’s now licking up and down your folds, your stomach clenches and you moan softly to the sensation, half hoping it won’t stop but also it does so you can go back to sleep. your mind is all scrambled as his tongue abuses your cunt.

“fuck..” “mm? feels good doesn’t it?”

lifting his head up, he wipes his chin, “get up baby.” his demand leads you to oblige to his words, he sits up, torso leaning on your headboard. your body heavy, yearning for slumber, but you want to be good for bill because he was so generous to eat you out.

holding his hand out under your cunt, you lower your body slightly to grind on his hands, pads of his fingers hitting the right spot leading your legs to sway a bit. he then frees his obvious hard on from his boxers, slathering the wet juices from your pussy onto the tip of his dick, mixing his precum with yours together.

bills hands snake around your ass, kneading it to then guide your hips closer to his. aligning his tip to your entrance, his mouth falls agape as soon as he enters you. “h-holy fuck yes..” bill can’t help but moan, it’s been a while since you guys done it and the sensation feels just as good as it has before.

you shudder with every inch of dick sliding into you, not only is he long but he’s big. it makes you laugh mentally to think someone this cute has such a big dick and knows how to use it.

“you okay baby?” he asks, placing a kiss on your lips, “mhm,”nodding, he begins to lift you up and down his length.

as you ride bill, you can’t help but moan softly. it’s late, and you’re tired, but holy shit.. his length hits all places good, the tip of his dick hits a certain spot that sends electricity up your body.

your legs are all achy, pain surges through your lower body, “m’ so tired bill..” shaking your head to initiate that you can’t move anymore. but instead bill holds your hair tight, fingers entangled with your hair, “nuh uh, no stopping, i’m close.. please, baby..”

a sob emits from your body, but you had to admit, you yourself are also close to release. you lean your chest to lay on bill’s while softly riding him. it’s not until the certain sensation from your clit rubbing on his lower abdomen with the added pleasure from his dick slowly and deeply hitting your g spot that you shake from orgasm.

trying to ride it out, bill can’t help but hold you still while thrusting up into you. you yelp as bill overstimulates you, having just came, you feel his ropes of cum paint your insides.

heavy breathing is all that’s heard from inside your shared bedroom, is he done? you hope your tired body he is.

bill gently lifts you off from his body, shuddering as you feel his dick slip out your sensitive cunt, he gets up from the bed to grab tissue. wiping him off to then clean up the cum from between your legs.

discarding the tissue to a nearby garbage, he comes back into bed finding you already laying down so quickly, “hold on princess, just one more thing.” he slips up the panties that were dangling off your ankles right back onto your body. to your surprise bill softly smacks your ass which leads you to yelp, him snorting at your reaction. “bill!” “what??”

laying down he begins peppering you with kisses, he hugs your waist and brings you closer to him. “thank you so much my love, i’ll make sure to make it up to you,” you scoff, “you better bill, you just woke me up from my beauty sleep.” he giggles and just kisses you again, “g’night schatz,” “night bill.”

you wondered for a bit, bill’s libido isn’t as high as you’ve always thought it to be.. so why tonight out of all nights? but that’s a discussion for another night.

that is, this becomes a daily occurrence and you just end up finding out on your own that his libido is definitely WAY HIGHER than you suspected ;).

[leaentries]

claim | nico hischier

summary: when a girl’s night gone wrong ends with nico’s girl getting a tattoo, he realizes how much he loves claiming her.

warnings: a bit of possessive nico, grinding, marking, fingering, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing

wc: 2k+

a/n: posting this at 3am, so enjoy, cause i definitely did.

p.s: nico is so daddy that it hurts

This was probably stupid. No, scratch that. You knew it was stupid. As it pans out, a bottle of pink whitney and truth or dare during girl's night, never ends well. 

But, as you lay in the chair with that familiar buzzing next to your ear, you contemplated your life choices and how you ended up here in the first place. Cursing your best friend, you hiss as the tattoo gun hits the area behind your ear. 

“Holy shit!” You groan in pain, “You absolutely suck, Bry.” 

She giggles, tossing her raven hair behind her, “Listen, in my defense, you were the one who said we needed to up the anty during girl’s night.” 

If it weren't for the surging pain spreading through your upper body, you’d probably slap her. Bryan was never one to back out of a little competition, which is one of the reasons you guys clicked so well. Only this time, your normal competitiveness was biting you in the ass.

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. What’s Nico gonna say? He’s probably gonna think I’m nuts and break up with me.” 

Bryan scoffed, “Oh please, Nico doesn’t know how to breathe without you by his side. He’s not gonna break up with you.” She glanced over your head as the artist pulled away. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposes the second he sees it.” 

After the artist finished cleaning you up, he handed you a mirror so you could see. Gleaming back at you, in all its glory, was a dainty “13” written in black ink. It was small enough to be covered with your hair but big enough to be seen when your hair was up. 

Bryan smirked at you through the small mirror, “Nico is one lucky man, babe.”

❥. 

Nerves pulsed through your body as the time ticked down. Nico was gonna be home any minute from his team meeting. He sent you a quick text while you were still at the tattoo place, letting you know he’d be home late. You let out a deep breath, staring at your new marking in the bathroom mirror. You played with your hair, indecisive on how you wanted to wear it when Nico arrived. 

Eventually, you decided to keep it down, opting to let Nico discover your body's new addition on his own. You settled yourself in the kitchen, perching yourself on the chair closest to the door. You had made dinner earlier since you knew it was very unlikely that Nico had remembered to eat. Just as you began to take out your phone to check where Nico was, you heard keys jingling against the door. 

Your heart rate picked up with each passing second. Worry plagued your mind in fear he wouldn’t approve of the tattoo.

The door creaked open, as a tired-looking Nico walked in. His eyes immediately found yours and a loving smile took home over his features. 

“Hi, schatzi.” He strode over to you, bending to press a sweet kiss on your head, “Did you have a good girl's night?” 

You nodded, standing so you could wrap your arms around his torso. Leaning up with a pout, Nico chuckled. He planted a quick peck on your lips, drawing a whine from you. 

“Neeks, stop teasing.” 

He sent you a dimpled smile, before kissing your cheek and walking to where you had set out his dinner. Nico was quick to pour himself a glass of wine, turning to bring you one as well. He sat down next to you, taking a sip. You tucked your hair behind your ear, temporarily forgetting about the special ink. 

Your eyes snapped to Nico as he choked on his wine, “Jeez, Nico. You okay?” 

Once he got over his coughing fit, he shook his head no. His eyes darkened as he moved the glass away from the edge. “What was that behind your ear?” 

You smiled sheepishly, looking away from him. 

“Y/n, baby. Look at me,” You let your gaze meet his, “Pull your hair up.” 

The demand was soft, but enough to spread a pleasurable heat through your body. Grabbing the hairband that lives on your wrist, you quickly put your hair back, the ink now on full display for Nico’s hungry eyes. 

“Fuck, schatzi,” Nico mumbled as he inspected the tattoo. Seeing his number permanently on your skin was enough to have his cock straining against the confinements of his sweats. His mind went hazy as he stared at you. 

“Do you like it?” Hearing the hesitation in your voice, he tilted your face towards him. 

It was then you noticed his appearance. Chest heavy with lustful gasps, eyes almost black as he took in your body. Nico was turned on. You confirmed your theory as your eyes wandered down to his painful-looking erection. 

You swallowed thickly. 

“Like it? Christ, baby. I fucking love it.” Nico never realized how much he could love seeing something that represented him on you. Of course, his heart soared every time you wore his jersey and he got to see his name sprawled across your back. But this? This was different. It was more than just a representation, it was a claim.

A claim to the rest of the world that you were his. And boy did his dick like the sound of that. Nico bit his lip as thoughts of claiming you further filled his mind. Unable to control himself any longer, he leaned over pulling your jaw to crash your lips together. A moan escaped your throat at the intensity of the kiss. 

Nico’s hands moved to your thighs, helping you to sit on the table. He settled in between your legs, pulling your aching core to press against his throbbing cock. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking marks into any bit of skin his mouth could touch.

“Gonna mark ya up, baby,” He licked a stripe from the base of your neck all the way to where your tattoo lay, “Gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” 

His hands gripped your thighs harshly, angling his hips upwards to create more friction. You moaned as his bulge dragged deliciously along your clothed clit. Nico continued his assault on your neck, bringing one hand to ghost over where your perked nipples showed through your top. 

He brought his head out of your neck, panting, “Need to feel you, schatzi. Need it so bad.” You eagerly agreed, helping to strip off the little clothing that you wore. Once Nico had removed your panties, his fingers quickly traced circles on your mound. You tilted your head back, the much-needed stimulation spreading ecstasy through your veins. 

“Fuck, Neeks. Feels so good.” You whimpered into the air. 

His desperate gaze drowned in your body. Nico dipped in one finger, before slowly dragging it back out. 

“So wet, f’me,” He brought his finger to his lips, sucking off your juices, “Who makes you this wet, baby?” 

“You, only you, Nico.” You whined. Nico wasted no time before plunging two fingers in your weeping hole, setting a brutal pace. A scream nearly left your mouth as searing pleasure took over your senses. 

“Shit!” Your nails dug into his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself. Nico caught your lips, swallowing the moans and whimpers that escaped. The sweet drag of his fingers had your velvet walls clenching rapidly. You knew you weren’t gonna last much longer, having been worked through already with Nico’s grinding. 

You pulled away, dropping your head onto his shoulder, “M’ not gonna last, Neeks” 

“I know, schatzi. Cum on my fingers, baby. Make a mess.” 

His words were enough to coax your first orgasm, blinding white covering your vision as your body convulsed into Nico’s. His fingers didn’t let up until he worked you completely through your high. You whimpered as overstimulation began to set in.

“Too much,” You cried. 

Nico slowly came to a stop, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth for a second time. “Mmm.” He hummed at the taste, “Always so sweet f’me, beautiful.” 

Despite having just orgasmed, the sight of his tongue swirling around his fingers, sucking off your arousal had your pussy clenching around nothing. Nico looked down to where his fingers just were, slightly pulling open your cunt with his thumb. 

“Such a pretty pussy, all mine.” He seemed to be muttering more to himself than you, relishing in your body and how you were his. 

Nico looked back to your eyes, helping you off the table and taking you back to the shared bedroom. He plopped you on the bed, shedding his remaining clothes, before crawling to hover above you. 

“Wanna be my good girl?” You nodded, “Open those pretty legs for me.”

You obeyed, welcoming his thick muscled body onto yours. His cock stood proud against his abdomen, the tip red and already leaking precum. You brought a hand to wrap around the top, swiping your thumb along his slit, a line of precum connecting to your digit as you pulled away. 

A deep whine left his throat, “Fuck, schatzi. Too sensitive for that right now, wanna cum inside.” 

“Please, Neeks. Need you in me, please.” Your mind was reduced to nothing but the thought of his cock drilling you into the mattress. 

“Yeah? Want me to fill ya up? Fuck, you’d look so pretty all swollen with my babies.” Nico dragged his cock between your slick folds, “No one would have to ask who you belong to.” 

You whimpered, “Quit stalling Neeks, need you to fuck me.” You brought your hands to wrap around his back. 

Nico brought his hand down to guide his cock to your entrance, easing in slowly. You both let out a moan as he bottomed out. He sat for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, the stretch always taking you by surprise.

You bucked your hips slightly, signaling that he could move. 

“Give me just a second, saw your tattoo again and almost busted.” Even though he wasn’t trying, his crude words sent fire to your core causing your pussy to convulse around his still dick. 

After a few moments, Nico slowly brought his cock out till just the tip remained. He plunged back in, doing the same motion a few more times. His deep thrusts racked your entire body with tingles. He started to speed up, but still keeping deep inside your cunt. 

“Nico!” You cried as he prodded at your g-spot. 

“That’s right, baby,” He grunted out, “Scream my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this good” 

His thrusts began to quicken as your muscles started to spasm around him. With each glide of his cock, pleasure soared through your body, reaching all the way to your toes. You were completely consumed by Nico. 

He buried his head in your neck, tilting slightly to press a gentle kiss against his number. A sweet gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you. Hands gripping at his back, you dragged your nails down the course muscle, leaving angry red trails that he was surely gonna get hell for in the locker room. Nico began to get sloppy as you both neared the peak. His uneven thrusts, paired with the hand that found its way to your clit had you reeling. 

“That’s it, schatzi. I know you got one more in ya, cum f’me baby.” 

Your back arched into him, eyes shutting tightly as the coil in your stomach snapped. Your pussy clamped tightly around Nico, sending him over the edge. He continued to pump his cock in and out, painting the deepest parts of your cunt with hot ropes of cum. Your mouth hung in a silent moan, voice gone from the previous activities. 

When you regained your senses, you noticed Nico’s weight had collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving. You brought a hand up to lazily stoke his hair, “If this is what I get every time I get a tattoo, then I’m gonna be covered.” 

He smiled, placing a kiss on your tattoo, “Only if they’re about me.” 

[sixhours]

Firsts - Birthday

Rating: Explicit (here be smut) Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel and Ellie, Ellie Williams, Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, fluff, fluffy baby stuff, no really this is sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, don't forget to brush your teeth Word count: 7k

Notes: Smut and a whole lotta fluff ahead!

You can also read Firsts on AO3.

Joel blinks awake, peering into the faint light that ekes around the edges of the blackout curtains, immediately on edge, a familiar sinking feeling in his gut telling him something is wrong.

He fumbles for the alarm clock, squinting at the time.

That can’t be right.

He scrambles out of bed, heart in his throat.

There’s no fuckin’ way.

Tiptoeing over to the crib, he peers over the side. Anna is sleeping soundly on her stomach, one fist pressed to her mouth, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

He blinks and clears the sleep from his eyes, just to be sure. She’s still breathing, still alive. His knees go weak with relief.

He creeps back to the bed, taking a seat and willing his heart to settle down.

She slept through the night.

Not even sure what to do with this information, he slides back into bed where Charlie is just beginning to stir.

“She’s…still asleep,” he says distantly.

“Mmph…what?”

“She slept through.”

Charlie blinks, looks over at the crib. “Well…holy shit.”

“Yeah. I don’t…”

“Wow.”

They look at each other in shared disbelief. Without thinking, Joel leans down and presses his lips to hers, half out of love, half out of sheer triumph.

“Hi,” she whispers when they finally part. He’s grinning, almost laughing, maybe a little manic.

He feels fucking amazing. Eight hours' sleep and he’s ready to conquer the world.

But first, he’ll start with her.

Leaning in again, he lets their lips meet tenderly, nipping at Charlie’s mouth until she sighs a deep, tremulous sigh, opening under him. He cups her face, hand cradling the delicate line of her jaw, brushing her cheek with his thumb. His hips grind into hers lightly, and he arches an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Mmm, yes,” she breathes.

Deepening the kiss, he rolls them, hand slipping under her sleep shirt to cradle the fullness of one breast, tongue darting out to lick the soft skin of her lower lip. Soon he can’t resist pushing the shirt up to see her, rich and ripe and ivory smooth. His tongue circles a nipple, gives a gentle, tender suck. She gasps and arches into him, his cue to keep going, and he does, laving at her breasts until she’s writhing beneath him.

He’s vaguely aware of her hand slipping into his boxers, then acutely aware of her stroking him. Rhythm momentarily lost, he pushes into her palm with a muffled groan. His hands wander over her soft curves, gripping at her hips, sliding down, down between her legs, finding her slick. He draws his fingers lightly back and forth, circling the way she likes, and it becomes a game to see who can get the other to break first. Then she pushes his hand away.

“Much as I…appreciate…the foreplay,” she says, panting softly. “We’re on borrowed time.”

“Mm,” he murmurs, catching her drift. They’ll need to be quick, as usual.

She throws her leg over his hip, not bothering to remove her underwear. He fumbles and pulls them aside, lines up, pushes inside.

“Hoooo-ly shit,” she gasps, at the edge of a whine, hands gripping his shoulders. “Oh, fuck, Joel–”

He’d like more time to ease into it, but they have what they have. How long has it been, anyway? Weeks?

Way too fuckin’ long.

“You good?” he rasps, stilling for a moment, letting her adjust.

She nods frantically and he growls a wordless response into the line of her jaw, kissing along it, rocking them with his hand gripping her ass, grinding into her until they’re both groaning softly and he’s buried to the hilt. Small wonder they are where they are, he thinks dully, looking down the barrel of sixty with a baby on his hip.

Her fingers dig into the meat of his bicep, other hand threading through the curls at the nape of his neck; his hair is getting long and he’s suggested cutting it, but she pouts with those sweet pink lips and shakes her head.

“I like it long,” she’ll say, eyes flashing. “More to hold.”

Just the thought has him careening toward the edge at a pace that’s frankly embarrassing. He grits his teeth and tries to think of anything other than the hot, wet clutch of her around him as they rock together. She may have indicated they should make it quick, but he has no intention of being premature about it.

The little sounds she’s making in his good ear are doing nothing to help, so he snakes a hand between them, slowing his pace to rub the rough pad of his index finger between her folds, offering her friction.

“Ohhh, fuck, yes…just like that, just–ah!”

He doesn’t trust himself to move, just lets her set the pace, writhing against him as he nips at her ear, traces the shell with his tongue, sucks at the ridge of her collarbone. When he feels her fluttering contractions, he stifles her moan with his lips and thanks fuck because he’s not going to last. A few more good thrusts and he’s coming, spilling inside her, fingers gripping the pillow by her head until his hand aches and his head is spinning.

Charlie smirks, blinking sleepily at him. He can feel the sweat at his temple and down his back as he rolls onto his side, trying to take his weight off her while keeping them joined. He nuzzles the hollow at her throat and waits for his breathing to settle, for the fog of release to clear.

“Not a bad way to wake up,” she murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair.

He gives a quiet grunt of agreement, but hasn’t found his words yet.

Then there’s a soft coo from the other side of the room.

“Uh oh,” Charlie whispers, carefully peering over Joel’s shoulder. “I think we have an audience.”

“Shiiiiiit,” he groans, pulling out with a soft hiss. He slowly looks back to find Anna standing in her crib, peering through the bars. At the sight of him she bounces on her feet and lets out a little cry of delight, raising one tiny hand and waving frantically.

Joel turns back to Charlie, face burning. “How long d’you think she’s been awake?”

She snorts a laugh and cups a hand to her mouth.

“D’you think–think she saw, uh–”

“Memory doesn’t kick in until at least two, so…if she did, she won’t remember it.”

That…does not make him feel better.

“She’s movin’ to her own room,” he grumbles. “Tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie says skeptically. “I’ve heard that before.”

“I mean it this time,” he mutters. “Movin’ her crib today. Soon as she’s down for her nap, I’m–”

Another cry, this one more insistent and accompanied by the soft smack smack of a chubby fist against the bars of the crib.

“Alright, baby girl,” Charlie sighs, slipping from the bed, stripping off her T-shirt. “We’re up.”

Joel wraps the sheet around his waist and watches as Charlie plucks Anna from the crib, swaying a little, then puts her to the breast. She barely nurses now, more interested in sticking her fingers in her mother’s mouth and nose and giggling when she gets a reaction. Charlie paces and gently redirects Anna’s grabby hands.

The sight of his partner–hair mussed, cheeks flushed, nursing their child–makes him glad to be as old as he is, otherwise he’d be starting the day with blue balls.

With that thought, Joel gets up, planting a kiss on the top of Anna’s fuzzy head, and another at Charlie’s temple.

“Gonna shower.”

Joel has just finished rinsing off when the shower curtain is pulled open and a naked, kicking baby appears, held aloft by her mother.

“Clean this, please,” she says.

He accepts the squirmy bundle and seats her against his side, adjusting the shower head so it’s not spraying in her face. Anna grins and grabs at Joel’s nose.

“Yeah, yeah. Better hope you got your mama’s,” he mutters, booping her little snub nose in return.

He grabs the rubber duck squeaky toy from the edge of the tub, offering it to her, making the sign for duck when she takes it in two chubby hands. She immediately shoves the head in her mouth and bites down hard; the duck lets out a pitiful squawk.

“Teethin’ again, huh?” he says, and she chomps on the toy even harder.

Joel reaches for the soap while she’s distracted, washing her as quickly as possible. When they’re both washed and rinsed, he wraps the baby in a towel, exchanging another kiss with Charlie as she gets into the shower.

He lets Anna loose to toddle around the bedroom while he gets dressed. She hangs onto the furniture, still hesitant about taking her first un-guided steps. He remembers Sarah doing the same thing at this age, leaving little drool trails along the edges of the furniture. He sweeps her up, tossing her on the bed and diapering her with skilled fingers.

“Alright, bug. Let’s get you dressed.” He tries to remember the sign for clothes but can’t; too early, no coffee. Ellie would know, he’ll have to ask her.

He pulls out overalls, a t-shirt, and socks, then a warm sweater for good measure. Anna rolls and wiggles and tries to crawl away as he wrestles her into the outfit piece by piece.

“Like tryin’ to dress a fish,” he mutters, making the sign for fish just to emphasize the point. Anna grins a gummy smile and grabs for his nose again. He blows a raspberry on her denim-clad belly and lets her sticky fingers grip his hair.

“Happy birthday, bug,” he whispers.

Downstairs, Joel plops her in the highchair with a smattering of frozen blueberries, freeing his hands to make breakfast.

“Birthday pancakes are a tradition in this family,” he says, signing as much as he can remember in her direction as he speaks. “You were too young to have ‘em on your sister’s birthday, but I think you’ll like ‘em.”

She gives a plaintive whine and swipes her hand across the highchair tray, scattering most of the berries to the far corners of the kitchen. She picks one of the stragglers up, carefully pinched between thumb and forefinger. Joel watches out of the corner of his eye as she sticks it into her mouth, then immediately spits it out with a trail of drool.

Yeah, definitely teething.

He’s just put the batter for the first pancake in the pan when Anna begins to fuss in earnest.

“Alright,” he sighs. “C’mere, you little gremlin.”

He balances her on one hip while watching the forming pancake, waiting for it to bubble. He’s just flipped it over when the front door opens.

“Oooh, birthday pancakes,” Ellie says in greeting. Anna nearly lurches out of Joel’s arms, both hands making grabby motions at her sister, and he fumbles to keep her upright and manage the stove at the same time.

“Take her,” Joel says. “Or the birthday pancakes are gonna be burnt-day pancakes.”

“Whoa–did you just make a pun?” She reaches out and takes Anna, who immediately tries to stuff her fingers up Ellie’s nose.

“You have no witnesses,” he says, flipping the first pancake, only slightly crispier than he’d like.

“Eh, I give it a five. Mostly for effort,” she smirks. “You’re Mr. Chipper today.”

Joel’s lips quirk in a smile. “She slept through the night.”

“Who, Charlie?”

He side-eyes her. “The baby, smartass.”

“You?” she asks, eyes on Anna, bouncing her in her arms until the baby leans over, pointing toward the floor. “You wanna get down, huh?”

“Think she’s gonna walk soon. Any day now.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

Anna holds onto the stool at the counter and looks up at Ellie with big, silver eyes. Ellie signs walk and Anna bounces up and down, then reaches up with one hand and a whine.

“Up? Again?”

“Her favorite game,” Joel grumbles, sliding the next pancake onto the plate and covering it. “Up, down, up, down, all damn day.”

Ellie holds her little sister in the air and wiggles her until she laughs, riotous and drooling.

“She spits up on you, I’m not cleanin’ it up.”

“Grumpy old man,” Ellie says, tossing her sister in the air. “Never lets us have any fun, huh?”

“Real fun gettin’ puked on.”

Anna signs down again and Ellie obliges. This time the baby drops to her hands and knees and crawls, making a beeline for something on the floor just as Charlie comes downstairs, hair damp from the shower, dressed in jeans and layers.

“First day back,” Ellie says. “You nervous?”

“A little,” she admits. “But I’m looking forward to it, too.”

It’s been a year and a half since Charlie was taken off patrol duties for maternity leave. She’s done a few shorter runs to warm up, re-trained on her weapons, but today she’ll be outside the walls for the whole day. Joel’s stomach twists at the thought, but he makes his voice light.

“She’ll be fine. I’m the one who should be nervous,” Joel says, eyeing Anna, who has crawled to the corner to find one of those errant blueberries, shoving it in her mouth before anyone can intervene. “Leavin’ me with the feral one here.”

“Yuck,” Charlie remarks, plucking the baby up, examining her sticky hands, now stained with rich purple juice and flecked with dust. She washes her at the sink before putting her back in the highchair.

“Builds her immune system,” Ellie quips. “And that’s not a nice way to talk about your kid, dude.”

“Who says I was talkin’ about her?” he smirks. “I have more than one kid, y’know.”

“Well, I know you’re not talking about me, because I’m on patrol today, too.”

“I know,” Joel says pointedly. “And you be careful, y’hear? No wanderin’ off, stay with the group, keep your–”

“‘Keep your wits about ya, eyes and ears open,’” she says in a terrible impression of his drawl. “I got it, I got it. Not my first rodeo.”

“Patrol ain’t a rodeo,” Joel grumbles, placing a plate of pancakes in front of her. “Here, eat.”

Anna lets out a faint screech of protest at the sight of Ellie’s food, frantically signing “please” until Joel drops a handful of bite-sized pancake pieces in front of her. She makes a happy burbling noise, grabbing one and squishing it in her fist before shoving it in her mouth, fist and all. For a few minutes, things are blissfully calm.

“That goes for you, too,” he says quietly to Charlie, pouring a mug of chicory coffee and holding it out. She’s digging through the fridge, pulling out the milk. “Be careful out there. Don’t gotta be a hero.”

“You said it yourself. I’ll be fine,” she says, taking the coffee with a smile and a kiss that warms his cheek.

He nods, bites the inside of his lip, silently reassuring himself. Charlie is a crack shot, capable, steady handed with a sharp eye. A few more runs to get her feet under her and she’ll be back to leading patrols again. Nothing has changed.

Everything has changed.

“Oh, the cake’s in the fridge,” Charlie says. “I asked them to set aside our dinner at the kitchen so we don’t have to cook, but you need to pick it up.”

“Think Anna and I can manage that. Right, bug?”

He turns toward her and does a double take. In the five minutes she’s had her food, Anna has managed to get blueberry juice and pancake crumbs from the tips of her fingers to the roots of her hair. She smacks the tray in front of her and grins with berry-streaked teeth.

Ellie, whose table manners are only marginally better, has already finished her plate, too.

“Shit, forgot my gloves,” she says, hopping off the stool with her mouth still half full. “Meet you over there?”

“Will do,” Charlie says, sipping at her coffee. Ellie is out the door before Joel can finish saying goodbye, and Charlie turns to him, fixes him with her silver stare. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

He sighs and leans back against the counter, nursing his own mug. “Be just fine,” he says. “Nothin’ I haven’t done before.”

And it’s true, he doesn’t mind staying back. He never had the privilege of seeing Ellie’s childhood, and he saw a lot less of Sarah’s than he wanted to. Most days it felt like she spent more time with Tommy or the Adlers than him, a source of guilt that still gnaws at him, absent from so many hours in a life cut short. He was always missing something, always late, always falling short.

Things are different with Anna in so many ways, but at least in this life, he gets to be there for it, blueberry-stained fingers and all.

They say their goodbyes at the door, Anna perched on Joel’s hip.

“You’ll come back,” he says, softer than he means to, and Charlie just nods. They embrace, the baby squished awkwardly between them.

“Wave to mama,” he says around the lump in his throat, and Anna does, dutifully flapping her hand until Charlie is down the street and out of sight.

“Dunno why we bother with the shower,” Joel sighs, looking the baby over when it’s just the two of them. “Y’look like you ate a damn Smurf.”

It takes another half hour to clean Anna and get her dressed to go out, several wipe-downs and a fresh outfit and everything short of a second bath before she’s bundled in her snowsuit and strapped to Joel’s back. Thankfully she’s still portable and happy to be carried, or the morning errands would take that much longer.

His first stop is the greenhouse, to pick up their share of vegetables for the week, meager as it is this time of year. Their neighbor, Marjorie, is doling out shares when Joel steps up to the counter. She coos at Anna, talking in a sing-song baby-talk voice.

“Aw, is someone giving Mommy a break today?”

Joel bites the inside of his cheek and forces a smile. End of the fuckin’ world and the Mr. Mom jokes are just as annoying as they were back when he was toting Sarah around. He’s about to brush it off when a voice carries over his shoulder.

“I should hope he’s taking care of his own child. You make it, you take it.”

Joanie, the midwife, pushes past them in her usual brusque manner. For once, he’s happy for her sharp tongue.

Marjorie isn’t fazed, only greets the gray-haired midwife and hands her a bag of garlic and onions and sprouts, then turns back to Joel.

“It’s a wonder you have so much energy,” she continues breezily. “I just don’t know what I’d do if I had a little one at our age.”

Never mind that Marjorie is at least ten years his senior, he’s not even the oldest father in Jackson–there are plenty of older parents, although most of them are adoptive. Still, most folks aren’t tactless enough to mention it.

Joanie seems to have moved on, so Joel is left to his own devices with a response.

“We manage,” he grits out. “You have a good day, Mrs. Allan.”

She opens her mouth, probably to say something even more offensive, but he’s already out the door. If anyone gives him shit later, he’ll use his bad hearing as an excuse.

Next, he swings by the caf to pick up their dinner for the night. It’s nothing fancy–a canister of soup and a fresh loaf of bread–but it will be nice to have a family meal at home, no interruptions from well-meaning neighbors about council business, and trying to keep Anna focused on her food during the hustle and bustle of community dining is a challenge. Joel is reminded why–aside from financial reasons–they rarely dined out when Sarah was little.

The kitchen staff fawn over the baby while they wait for their food. None of them seem to have opinions on his age or his fitness as a parent, for which he’s grateful, and they chat with Anna in normal, adult tones. She can’t hear, but the kid soaks up their attention nonetheless, grinning from ear to ear and flapping her hands when she gets excited. José, the head chef, hands Joel an extra biscuit as they’re leaving.

”Is stale,” he says in a thick accent, miming biting motions. “Good for new teeth, yes?”

Joel thanks him and pockets the biscuit for later, then they walk across the street to the Jackson library, where a small crew is working on a renovation inside. He can’t enter the construction area with the baby on his back, but he checks in with the foreman so he can update Maria on the status, marveling to himself how much like old times it is–for better or worse. There’s talk of creating a children’s library, but supplies are scarce and there are multiple projects competing for the council’s attention. They’ll probably have to hold a community-wide vote in the spring.

Joel doesn’t have a head for politics. Anna doesn’t, either, because she starts fussing as the conversation turns to resource management, smacking him on the shoulders as if to say, “It’s time to go.”

“Lookit her,” the foreman says. “She’ll be runnin’ this place soon enough.”

“Think she already is,” Joel mutters, wondering if this is what his horse feels like as she kicks him lightly in the ribs.

They take a breather in the square to look at the Christmas tree. It’s quiet, so Joel unstraps Anna, much to the relief of his back, and lets her roam while she chews on her biscuit. One mittened hand in his, she toddles alongside him on unsteady feet, distracted by the lights, the snow underfoot, the baubles on the tree. She points and gestures in sign, most of which only she can understand even if she weren’t wearing gloves and holding a biscuit, but he catches a few–”daddy” is one, and the fist-waving motion they’ve collectively decided means “Ellie.” He talks back in his own limited combination of spoken word and sign; even if he’s not making sense, at least she knows he’s listening.

When she inevitably drops the biscuit in favor of trying to put the snow in her mouth, he sweeps her up and walks to the tree, letting her grab at the branches and ornaments. It’s not her first Christmas–that was five days after she was born–but it’s the first one she’s fully alert for, and the wonder in her eyes is enough to make Joel feel some of that Christmas spirit everyone likes to go on about.

Eventually he plops her back into the carrier for the walk to the town hall, the old gymnasium that serves as a gathering space with a row of small offices off the back. Maria is working in one of the smaller rooms when they arrive, seated at a desk with a pile of ledgers and files in front of her while three-year-old Isabel plays with stacking blocks on the floor. The little girl grins up at him, waving one of her blocks.

“Unca Jo!”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, feeling that bittersweet pull in his chest at the sight of her. Curly brown hair and dark skin, she looks an awful lot like Sarah did at that age. “Wanna play with your cousin for a bit?”

“Baby!” Isabel says.

“Mornin’,” Joel greets Maria, unstrapping Anna from the carrier and extracting her from her snowsuit. Thanks to Isabel’s presence, the office has already been baby-proofed. “Take it Tommy’s outside today?”

“He’s on the wall,” she says. “How’s Charlie holding up?”

“Good, I hope,” he grimaces, then looks up, concerned. “Why? You heard somethin’?”

“No, but no news is good news. I’m sure they’re fine. I just recall my first few runs after Izzy being…an adjustment.”

“Oh, I remember,” he smirks, thinking of Tommy, not yet confident in his solo-parenting abilities, and more than one frantic knock on Joel’s door.

“And how about you?” Maria asks. “Behaving for the birthday girl?”

She smiles, watching as Anna zeroes in on one of Isabel’s toys and crawls over to investigate. The kids play side-by-side well enough. As much as Anna adores Ellie, Joel is grateful she’ll have someone closer in age to grow up with–not unlike him and Tommy, he thinks.

“We’re gettin’ by,” he says. “She slept through last night, so this is probably as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Wow,” she whistles, holding up a ledger. “Then you’ll be more awake for this than me.”

They go over the next week’s patrol schedule, the expansion renovations on the library, and supplies for repairs at the clinic. He’s taken on more responsibility in the community in an effort to stay closer to home, which means working with his sister-in-law more often than not. They may have gotten off to a rocky start, but they’ve made a tenuous peace in the months since Anna was born. As Tommy was quick to point out, they have more in common than they’d like to admit.

Eventually, they’re interrupted by a rising shriek from the corner.

“Mine! Mine! Noooo, mine!”

The peaceful play has dissolved into a fight over one of the toys–a block, nearly identical to all the other blocks, but Isabel has decided this one is special.

Yep, just like him and Tommy, he thinks, sighing.

There’s wailing from both parties, fat crocodile tears in Anna’s eyes and a lower-lip pout for maximum sympathy.

“Isabel, are you sharing?” Maria asks, the exasperation in her voice suggesting she already knows the answer.

“No! Mine!” Izzy says, holding the block tightly to her chest as Anna grabs for it again.

“Her favorite word,” Maria mutters as Joel reaches down to pick Anna off the floor. “She’s too little to share, baby. She doesn’t understand.”

“Mine,” Isabel huffs. “No baby.”

“Think we’ve done as much as they’ll let us,” Joel says. “Time to get this one down for a nap, anyway.”

“Wanna trade?” Maria asks as they separate the cousins, a tired smile gracing her lips.

“Not a chance in H-E-L-L,” Joel chuckles, wrestling Anna back into her snowsuit before hefting her onto his hip. She tucks her head under his chin, sniffling. He remembers the three-year-old attitude all too well, temper tantrums and power struggles galore. The Miller genes run strong that way, and he’ll have his fair share soon enough. “We’ll see you for dinner tonight?”

“Right. Hopefully this one is in better spirits…although somehow I doubt it.”

“Good luck,” he says, and he means it.

He opts to hold Anna rather than bothering with the carrier. She’s too tired to wiggle around, anyway, gnawing on one fist and whimpering her displeasure into his neck as they walk the few blocks home.

“I know,” he murmurs, hoping the rumble in his chest will soothe her since his hands aren’t free. “Your uncle an’ I were a lot like that growin’ up, always gettin’ into spats over things. You an’ Iz will have to figure your shit out just like we did. Might be a pain in your ass, but family’s family.”

Anna offers a displeased grunt and a whine in response.

“Yeah, that’s about how it goes,” he sighs.

At home, Joel puts away the food and digs a bottle out of the fridge to warm over the stove. Charlie has mentioned weaning soon, and he tries to imagine a day when they aren’t washing bottles and their freezer isn’t full of breastmilk. It’s almost as impossible to believe that a year ago, he could hold this same child one-handed, the scant length of her fitting easily along his forearm.

Anna clings to his shirt and fusses while he paces and waits for the bottle to heat. His own damn fault, they should have been home an hour ago.

“It’s comin’, baby girl.”

When the milk is finally warm through, he picks up Anna and the bottle and takes them into the living room, collapsing in the rocker with a groan, the kind that would inspire a whole lot of lip from Ellie if she were here to hear it. Anna can hold her own bottle, but she lets him do the honors today, as if sensing he’s feeling some way about it. Within minutes, she’s looking up at him with long, sleepy blinks as her jaw works, lulled by the rocking motion and the rumble of a low lullaby in his chest.

Oh I’d like to visit the moon,

On a rocket ship high in the air,

Yes I’d like to visit the moon,

But I don’t think I’d like to live there.

Though I’d like to look down at the earth from above,

I would miss all the places and people I love,

So although I might like it for one afternoon,

I don’t want to live on the moon.

Soon she drifts off and rather than put her to bed, he holds her, savoring the quiet and the weight of her in his arms, because all too soon she won’t fit there, won’t want to be carried or rocked or sung to sleep.

He’s in no rush.

The afternoon passes in a blur of laundry, snacks, and entertaining the world’s grumpiest post-nap baby.

“You take after your sister,” he mutters, bouncing her through another round of jagged fussing. “Naps piss her off, too.”

He finds a frozen washcloth in the freezer and puts her in the highchair with it. She chews on the cloth angrily for a minute or two, then throws it on the floor and wails. They repeat the cycle–pick up cloth, chew, throw, scream–while he finishes the morning dishes. He thinks about taking her for another walk, but decides against it; wrestling her into the snowsuit when she’s already fussy will only cause them both grief and probably give him a fuckin’ headache.

So it’s back to the baby carrier she goes, on his front this time so she can bury her face in his chest while she gnaws on her fist and he does what he can to clean; laundry, sweeping old blueberries off the floor, picking up around the kitchen.

Then he plops her down in the middle of the living room with a basket of toys and joins her on the floor, figuring at least if she’s crawling around, she’ll work off some energy. She’s still fussy but climbing over him and chewing on one of the little wooden dinosaurs he carved provides a momentary distraction. He tips his head back on the arm of the couch and lets his eyes close for a second; a full night’s sleep and he’s still fuckin’ wiped.

Gettin’ too old for this shit, a voice whispers in the back of his head, but it’s soon drowned out by a whine. He’s brought fully back to the moment by two hands smacking his cheeks and a slobbery wet kiss on his nose.

“Caught me sleepin’ on the job, huh, bug?” he murmurs. She flutters her hands in response, more baby signs. He pulls her in, lets her nuzzle her snotty nose in the crook of his neck while he rubs a hand up and down her back. She calms, and he feels a swell of pride through his exhaustion. He’s old as dirt and his back is killing him, but he’s still good for something, at least.

When the front door opens around five, they’re back to pacing and bouncing, Joel holding on to the last shred of his sanity and Anna voicing her disapproval. Charlie is visibly tired but otherwise intact.

“Uneventful,” she says, just as Joel opens his mouth to ask how the patrol went. “All’s clear. Ellie is showering. How did it go?”

The knot of tension he’s carried around all day gradually unwinds. Everyone is back inside the walls and safe…if not happy. As if to make the point, Anna reaches out to her mother, frantically making the sign for mama through her tears.

“It, uh…went better this morning.”

Charlie takes Anna, relief written in the lines that smooth from her brow as soon as the baby is settled in her arms, a missing piece slotted back into place.

“I’m going to get cleaned up and nurse her before everyone shows up.”

“Be my guest,” Joel sighs, rubbing at his neck. “She's pretty tired of her old man.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Charlie says, mock frowning as Anna wraps her pudgy arms around her mother’s neck and makes offended cooing noises into her cheek. “Let’s go upstairs and you can tell me all about it, okay, sweet girl?”

Anna gives a tiny, muffled whimper in answer.

When they’re gone, his ears are ringing with the lingering quiet. Joel busies himself with all the things he meant to do before Charlie got home–he folds the laundry, picks up the living room, and puts the soup on low to reheat while he chops vegetables. An hour passes, so he climbs the stairs, suspecting Charlie has drifted off while nursing. It’s been a long day, and it wouldn’t be the first time. But he finds her awake, freshly showered and sitting up in bed with Anna at her breast.

“They’ll be here soon,” he says softly, easing the bedroom door open.

“Thanks…we'll be down in a minute,” she whispers. There’s a hitch in her voice that resets that tightness in his chest.

“What’s wrong? Somethin’ happen?”

“No…it’s nothing,” she whispers. She’s cupping Anna’s head, smoothing her fluffy dark hair. There’s the glint of tears on Charlie’s cheeks and his stomach sinks.

“Is it the patrols? ‘Cause you don’t have to do ‘em. It ain’t like before,” he says, thinking of all those times he left Sarah behind to bring in a paycheck. “I can ask Maria to–”

“No, no,” she shakes her head, looking up. “Patrol was…good. I–I felt more like…myself out there. Strong. Capable.”

She smiles then, almost beams, and his heart skips.

“It reminded me…I’m not just a–a walking milk machine,” she sniffs, chuckling wetly.

“You’re more than that,” he murmurs, coming over to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Anna is breathing slow and deep, suckling occasionally, eyelashes fluttering–milk drunk.

“It’s just…going so fast,” Charlie whispers. “It feels like yesterday she was this tiny little thing. I swear she got bigger in the hours I was away.”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs, all too familiar with the paradox; how all those long nights add up to the blink of an eye. “Yeah…they do that.”

“I’m not ready for her to grow up,” she sighs. “But I guess I don’t have a choice, huh?”

“‘Fraid not. We still have a few years left, though,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace the line of her jaw, catching a stray tear on his thumb. “She’s gonna need us for a while.”

She gives him a sad half-smile and he leans in, lets their lips meet tenderly. He’s shit with words, but this is their language. It’s the one that put them here, after all.

Then there’s a soft whine and a tiny hand smacks his cheek. He breaks the kiss, looks down, finds Anna still latched, scowling up at him.

Charlie laughs, a throaty, lovely sound. “You’re encroaching on her territory.”

“I was here first,” he mumbles, bending down to nuzzle at the baby’s soft, pink cheek. He peppers her with kisses, soaks up the scent of her, fresh shampoo and milk, then pretends to nibble on her fingers until she cackles.

“Little punk,” he says, punctuating the word with a final kiss.

“I notice you didn’t move the crib,” Charlie says, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well. Maybe she can stay in here a little longer. ‘Specially if she keeps sleepin’ through the night.”

There’s the creak of an opening door downstairs and a familiar voice calls up.

“S’up assholes? Where’s the party!”

“Be down in a minute, El,” Joel calls over his shoulder before turning back to Charlie, catching her eye. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Go on,” she nods. “We’ll be down soon.”

Joel makes to leave but finds himself lingering at the door, catching one last look before his family’s chaos descends on their home. He points at himself, crosses his fists over his chest, then points to them.

I love you.

Charlie’s slow blink and a smile is all the answer he needs.

He goes downstairs, finds Ellie in the kitchen, investigating the soup bubbling on the stove. Without preamble, he goes over and pulls her into a hug, letting the embrace linger a little longer than usual. She’ll be eighteen in a few months.

It really does go by too fast.

She looks up at him warily when he finally pulls away. “Uhhh, what was that for? Are you dying?”

“Jesus,” he sighs. “No, I ain’t dyin’. Can’t I hug my kid?”

“Hmm, I guess,” she says. “When’s everyone getting here? I’m starving.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the front door, the sound of someone letting themselves in.

“Looks like…now,” he sighs. “I’ll finish up here, you greet the crazy train?”

“Roger that.”

Soon the house is full, the sounds of conversation and laughter drifting from the living room as they settle in. Maria and Charlie compare notes on weaning, Tommy and Ellie rag on Joel’s cooking (“I didn’t even make most of it, you assholes”), and the kids only have to be gently separated and redirected a few times.

Later, there’s cake and strawberry ice cream. Isabel helps to blow out the candle while Anna blinks up at everyone, overwhelmed by the sudden audience. She digs into her slice of cake at first tentatively, then with gusto, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing it into her mouth with a pleased humming sound. She opens a few presents with help from Isabel–some board books, a carved wooden brontosaurus to add to her collection of chew toys, a quilt made from clothing scraps.

It’s a humble celebration as most of them are, but it’s theirs.

It’s long past Anna’s bedtime when Tommy, Maria, and Isabel leave. It’s a special day and the baby is in good spirits, so Charlie sets her in the highchair and puts a record on the turntable while the three of them clean up.

Or, Joel and Charlie clean up–Ellie is supposed to be sweeping, but she’s mostly dancing around the kitchen making silly faces. Anything to make the baby laugh. And then she spins one spin too many and crashes into Joel just as he’s rinsing the last of the plates.

“Whoa,” he says, turning and catching her before she crashes to the floor. “Easy, kiddo. Gonna hurt yourself with those two left feet a’ yours.”

“You have two left feet, jerk.”

“Do not. Here,” he says, drying his hands on a towel before holding them out.

“You’re so lame,” she says, but she takes his hands.

“Now–stand on my feet.”

“I’m pretty sure the point of dancing is not to step on your partner’s feet, dude.”

“Just do it.”

“I’m gonna crush you!”

“You won’t, you’re puny,” he teases. “C’mon. Used to do this with Sarah all the time.”

Ellie giggles. “Alright, but don’t fucking blame me if you throw your back out again.”

“Not gonna,” he says. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she grins, carefully stepping onto the tops of his toes. It’s a balancing act, and when they’re finally somewhat stable, he moves, picking up their combined feet in an awkward shuffling crab walk. Soon her giggling devolves into full-on laughter, until she gives up on trying to balance in favor of wrapping her arms around his waist to hold on. Even Charlie has stopped drying the dishes and turned to watch, lips quirked in amusement.

Joel smirks at her over the top of Ellie’s head. “Wanna turn?”

As if on cue, Anna screeches from her highchair, hands stuck straight out in front of her, fingers opening and closing in the universal gesture for gimme.

“Think someone wants to cut in,” he says to Ellie, giving her one last squeeze before she hops off his feet and goes to her sister.

“Alright, crotch goblin. Show us your moves.”

Ellie takes the baby and pretends to fly her through the air before landing her like a rocket ship, complete with fake engine noises, then holds her hands so she can walk over to Joel. He tries to put her feet on his, but she’s too excited, bouncing on the tips of her toes, so he settles for letting her continue to bounce until Joel has to stand up to save his back. He takes her with him, tossing her into the air to the sound of her delighted giggles, again and again, until the giggles turn into belly laughs.

“Dude, she’s gonna puke on you,” Ellie says. “She’s got that look.”

“No she ain’t,” he says, tossing her again for good measure, rewarded with another cackle.

“She is! You said–”

“I’m barely even–”

He’s interrupted by the wet splat of spit-up down the front of his shirt.

There’s a long pause where Joel can only stare at the little girl held out in front of him as she chews on one finger and giggles, unbothered by the mess. Ellie is the first to break the silence, howling with laughter as she collapses against the counter.

“Ain’t that funny,” Joel mutters.

“It really fucking is,” she wheezes, gasping for breath. “Dude, I warned you.”

He glances at Charlie, whose lips are pressed in a hard line, obviously trying to smother her laughter for his sake.

“Oh, go on,” he mutters, handing the baby over. “Take this one. Need to change my damn shirt.”

Upstairs, he strips off his soiled flannel and undershirt, digging through a basket of laundry to find a clean tee. He half-smiles to himself, shaking his head as he finds the little yellow sleeper tucked in the bottom, part of a pile of things ready to go to the trading post. He holds it up, remembering when it was too big, nostalgia flaring bright in his chest.

With a soft huff, carefully folds the sleeper and sets it on top of the pile, glancing at his watch in the process. The face is still shattered, the hands still frozen in time, and suddenly the ache of Anna’s fading babyhood is a welcome one.

The sound of laughter echoes up the stairwell like music, bringing him back. Joel shrugs on a fresh shirt and pauses on the landing, exhaustion and contentment settling over him as he listens to his family.

He grips the watch over his wrist, giving it a light squeeze, then walks downstairs to rejoin them.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

Sorry, Top - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeStudent!Rafe x Topper'sGF!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

1k Lightly Edited

🪄 warnings: fingering, dry-humping, name-calling, mutual masturbation, manipulation, Rafe doesn’t ask or wait for permission, reader wants to go farther

📖 Topper’s GF (reader) has always had a thing for his roommate, Rafe. When she catches him jerking off she can’t help but join.

✨“Go ahead, baby. Wake him up. Say his name. Let me deal with him. Yeah? Or, I could just deal with you…”✨

Reader’s POV:

You lower your eyelids a little more, trying your best to look like you’re sleeping as you watch Topper’s best friend palm himself over his white Calvin Kleins.

Your heart starts to pick up pace, anticipation building as his roommate hooks his fingers around the elastic band. The blonde draws them down nice and slow, making butterflies flood your stomach as he releases his cock. Holy shit…

You can feel your body pulse head to toe, a foreign feeling between your thighs, wet against the fabric of your panties. What the fuck?

Your hand roams slowly down your own body, doing your best to keep up your facade of sleep. Your thighs widen on the dorm mattress as your fingers slip under your little satin shorts.

Rafe reaches over to the nightstand, snagging some lube from the drawer. You never thought once about why he would rummage around there in the middle of the night, but now you can’t stop.

How many times has he jerked off like this? With us here?

Your fingers meet your slit, making your stomach sink as you feel how absolutely soaked you are. For Rafe? You run your fingers through your wet folds, feeling the slightest bit of relief.

Rafe wraps his hand around his thick dick, eyes batting to a close as he starts to stroke. Fuck. I’ve only seen a cock before in porn… I didn’t want to be completely untaught when Topper finally made his move.

Rafe’s big… Shit. He’s so fucking huge. His swollen head glistens with lube, somehow even harder after the touch of his own hand.

Your body aches; your gliding hand no longer doing the trick. Your fingers find their way down to your entrance, pressing inside, making you bite back a moan.

You start to match his pace, stuffing your fingers into your cunt at the same cadence. Rafe throws his head back on the pillow, making your heart skip as your name falls from his pretty lips.

My name? Me?

You feel your adrenaline course through your veins. Baffled that he would be choosing you from the roster of women he usually has in his bed, sometimes one, sometimes two.

Say it again…

“Bounce on my cock, Princess,” he grunts. It’s not my name… but it’s what Top calls me. Your wrist bumps against your clit. Ugh. That felt good. More.

You slip your other hand down your body, pressing against your nub, a feeling so good you can’t help but release a breathy whine.

Topper moves out of the corner of your eye, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets out a little snore. Guilt starts to creep in as you see him sleeping so peacefully, so sweetly, his messy blonde hair piled on his pillow.

But I can’t fucking stop.

Your eyes quickly shift back to Rafe, making you jump slightly as you see him standing right in front of you, incredibly close. You take a little breath, eyes working higher on his body. His eyes lock on yours; his stare is dark and deep.

He grabs the comforter, peeling it off your body. You feel the chill of the wetness between your thighs, making your eyes fall low.

“M’gonna help you with that, princess. Don’t worry,” he breathes; you can hear his cockiness through his hushed tone still.

“What do you mean? W-What are you doing?” You ask softly as he lowers his body on top of yours. You expel a breath as he presses himself against you.

Rafe buries himself in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your hot skin. You take in his smell, his rich cologne clouding all your senses. “Let me help you,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “Don’t worry, Angel. Put my boxers on… Would hate to get that sweet pussy before Top does. Couldn’t control myself otherwise.”

“Rafe… I-” You’re cut off by his lips, pressing roughly against yours, swallowing your gasp as he grinds his clothed cock against you.

He bumps your clit with his rock-hard bulge, swallowing your moan. “That’s it, huh? Feels good. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-Yeah,” you whimper.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he pants against your kiss.

It does… It feels good. So fucking good. Heatburns behind your eyes because of it, eyes glassing over the thought of doing this to Topper, so close to Topper.

“B-But Topper?”

If I wanted this to stop, all I’d have to do is say the word. All I’d have to do is call for Top, but all I want to do is scream for Rafe.

“Go ahead, baby. Wake him up. Say his name. Let me deal with him. Yeah? Or, I could just deal with you…”

“I don’t know, Rafe.”

“Good friends share, sweetheart.”

“Rafe…”

“Stop actin’ so innocent. Like you weren’t watching me stroke my cock. Like I couldn’t hear that wet little pussy from over there,” he hisses as he grinds harder into you. “Caught’cha, didn’t I?” He smiles against your lips, making heat spread across your body.

Rafe releases a moan, then another, getting off on you and you on him. You reach around his body, tugging slightly at the elastic of his boxers.

“You trying to take ‘em off, Princess?” He taunts. “Nah… Not today. Gonna get you just like this. But, tonight… You gonna let me taste you tonight, baby?”

“Yeah…”

He chuckles darkly, making chills fall down your body straight to your aching core.

“Naughty little thing. Aren’t you?”

Rafe rolls his hips again and again, grinding his clothed cock against your sex as you whimper in sensitivity. “Can feel how wet you are through my boxers. Bet your panties are soaked, you little slut.”

Your back arches at the sounds of his devilish words. The tears in your eyes tumble down your cheeks as you feel your climax about to overtake you. Rafe’s blue jean eyes soften on yours. “Hey… Hey. It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes. “You gonna cum?” He asks between gentle kisses.

Your teeth sink into your plump bottom lip, eyes rolling back in your skull. “Cum for me, angel,” he whispers as he draws up your shirt higher.

He grips his cock. His ruddy head leaking at the tip. Rafe lowers himself to your ear as he continues to rut.

“I’m gonna… Fuck, Rafe,” you whisper, digging your heels into the mattress as you hold back your blissful cries. You moan his name as your pussy flutters around nothing.

Rafe answers with your name on his lips, hot wet ropes of cum landing on your bare skin. Rafe reaches down, running two ringed fingers through his spent.

“Open.” You open your mouth, Rafe’s digits making their way in between. “Suck.” You suck on his fingers all the way to his gold rings, tasting cum for the first time. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

[inthepassengerside]

luke wakes up in the middle of the night needy as ever, and there’s no reason for him not to help himself out and use his beautiful wife right next to him

warnings: smut -cnc, somnophilia , dirty talk, wet dreams, unprotected sex-

i don’t even know what this is i just got bored and horny

Luke was rutting his hips into the mattress that night. God was that dream so real. He was whimpering and needy and he had you tied up with your favorite vibe on your sore and swollen clit. You knew how much he was stressed and you loved being someone he could take his stress out on.

He was just watching you, slowly stroking himself because it felt so good he just needed to draw it out as long as possible.

You begin your third orgasm of the night as it washes over you and you even manage to squirt a little on the bed. Right away, he pushes his fingers into you roughly and makes you squirt more.

Your moans, oh your moans are what’s getting him off the most. He loves you and your body but your noises, the way you whimper at him, he loves it.

Just as he begins to push his tip into your tight walls his eyes open.

He lets out a heavy sigh once he’s aware of his surroundings. He’s incredibly hard. Luke doesn’t even catch himself when he starts pushing down his boxers and stroking his hard cock.

He sits up in the bed to see you laying on your back with your eyes closed peacefully. He smiles to himself before he peels the covers off of you to find you in a simple tank and panties.

Carefully, making sure not to wake you up just yet, he slips off your soft panties and spreads your legs. He was confused how you still haven’t woken up, but doesn’t dwell on it.

He pushes the tip in and let’s out such a breathy moan, it takes about two strokes before you’re moaning quietly, finally fluttering your eyes open and becoming aware of what’s going on. You’re alarmed at first, but you remember the conversation you had with Luke a few nights prior and immediately relax.

Soon, you focus on the pleasure and feel yourself stretching to his shaft.

“Hey baby. Had a dream. You’re so sexy I couldn’t wait till you woke up. Fuck.”

You giggle tiredly, “It’s okay baby. Love this. Love you fuckin’ me like this.”

His thrusts are deep and sharp and every time your hips meet he stays there for a few seconds, letting you feel his length inside of you.

Luke peppers kisses along your face and anything of your neck that’s exposed.

“You’re so tight holy shit. Can’t even fucking move.” He groans against your ear, softly nibbling at it.

You moan, “Ah. What was your d-dream baby?”

You feel your orgasm start to build up and you can’t take it. This whole moment is so much for the two of you and it’s definitely something new.

“Mm baby. Shit, I uh, had you tied up with a vibe on your clit. And shit it was so puffy- fuck, and you started to squirt all over our sheets. And you were making such pretty noises watchin’ me stroke my cock.”

You let out a guttural moan, “Shit t-that really is a dream,” You giggle.

Luke’s thrusts start to slow as you feel your orgasm. Your vision blurs as you’re already tired yet it’s probably one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. It was such a sensual moment that it made the orgasm last so much longer and feel so much better.

He’s not far to follow, immediately spilling into you as you clench around him and your body shakes. He whines as he starts to suck along your jawline down to your neck.

He collapses on top of you, yet making sure not to crush you as you run your fingers through his hair. He groans against you as you tug on the curls.

“I love you. I loved that. Came so hard, Lu.” You whisper against him.

He shuffles his head along your chest. “Loved it so much baby. Loved it because it was you. Glad we tried it.”

“Goodnight baby boy. I don’t even want to check what time it is, but we should go back to sleep.”

Luke chuckles against you, “Goodnight my love.”

[wickedsniffles]

Domestic Bliss

Summary: A bit of morning sex during allergy season. Wade has the kink. Logan has the allergies ❤️ (This got SO out of control but holy moly was it fun to write)

Pairing: Wade Wilson aka Deadpool x Logan Howlett aka Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: established relationship, oral sex, handjobs, snz, kink!Wade, praise kink, pet names, fluff

Word Count: 1.2K

Wade's situated between Logan's legs, on his stomach, in the warm nest of their bed. He's sucking his cock in an almost dreamlike state, only half focused on the task at hand (in mouth). As nice as it is to get his partner off, as much as he loves to do it…it's getting harder and harder to ignore his own arousal. 

It's all because of the look on Logan's face. Flushed pink and worrying at his lip, Logan is the fucking picture of sexual pleasure. His pretty hazel eyes laser focused on Wade, breathing heavy as he fights not to arch up into his mouth. 

One hand sits on top of Wade's head, fingernails digging into his scalp gently. The other stays at his side, wandering up to his face every once in a while to scrub at his nose. The nose that is much darker shade of pink than his face, itchy and irritated, only drawing attention to the handsome shape and strong outline. 

Wait, what? 

Yeah, you read that right. Wade's unashamedly sucking cock and getting off to how Logan looks like he's trying hard to stay in the moment, focus on Wade, and not give in to the itch they both know is torturing him. 

It's allergy season, baby. And they might both be built to heal anything from a papercut to an axe wound, but that healing factor doesn't do shit against a nose as sensitive as Logan's. He's a wreck with the first warm breeze. 

A polite wreck, to be sure. Uncharacteristically polite. Of course, with Logan being Logan, there's no way he'd come out and admit to being taken down by something as small as a grain of pollen. The first time Wade notices him being allergic to something, Logan stifles it so well that he almost misses it entirely. Like a fucking sneeze ninja. 

They'd been cuddling together on the couch. Logan had just, like, frozen in place and pressed a knuckle to the side of his nose. His shoulders shook once, twice, three times. A soft exhale. 

Wade remembers bristling. Kink activated. “Um…bless you?” 

Logan had gone bright red down to the tips of his ears. “Shut up.”

The more attention Wade paid – and trust him, audience, he was paying plenty of attention now – the more times he caught him. When there's a lot of dust. When it's cold outside. Around certain flowers. God help him. As months passed and they got more comfortable around one another, Logan stopped stifling them like that every time. But Wade knew it was still his first instinct. 

Wade moans around what's in his mouth and takes Logan deeper, pressing his hips hard into the mattress. He can't believe Logan hasn't sneezed since he started sucking him off. 

But he looks like he might. Wade knows the look by now. A lot of blinking with those long pretty eyelashes. Expression going all distant and far away. Breath hitching, lips parting.  

That, or he's about to come. The fact that the two expressions are so similar makes another wave of heat clench in Wade's abdomen. 

“So fuckin' – good, baby,” Logan croaks, sounding absolutely wrecked. He scrubs at his nose with a thick sniffle, swallowing hard. “You gettin’ close too?” 

Wade whines his affirmative. I’d be closer if you indulged my weird kinks, bub. 

Smiling at that, Logan thrusts deeper into his mouth, making Wade take more, and god that’s a treat in itself. 

“You’re –” his breath hitches, followed by another irritated sniff.  “You’re gonna make me come,” he says. Nose scrunching in that familiar way.  “Wade –” 

He can’t take it anymore. Wade takes the hand that Logan has on his head and winds his fingers through, then grabs his other hand by the wrist until he’s locked in place. Oh, oops, sorry, I’m sooo cute and I just wanna hold your hands while I suck you off. Or do I have ulterior motives? 

They make eye contact. Logan tries to break loose from the grip, but Wade’s not letting him move an inch. Logan’s no idiot. He knows exactly what Wade’s trying to do, what he’d like to happen. His eyes narrow, both with exasperation and the effort of trying to hold back. Wade’s heart leaps. 

“You are f-fucking…” 

Oh, he’s not holding back this time. Wade grins like the devil around the cock in his mouth. 

“Heh…heh’ESSH-uh! Esshh! ESSHH-uh!”

Logan sneezes into his shoulder, breathy and desperate. Finally finally finally – 

That’s all Wade needs. With a long, muffled whimper, he comes hard against the sheets, feeling the warmth of it bloom against his stomach with each spasm. He relaxes into the mess, going boneless, and hears Logan scoff out a laugh. 

Wrestling his hands free, he carefully takes himself out of Wade’s mouth. 

“Bless you,” Wade manages, working his jaw. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Logan answers. “I was gonna say ridiculous.” 

“Yeah.” He’s definitely not gonna deny that. Wade Wilson is the original seven herbs and spices of ridiculous, with some added kick to keep people on their toes. 

His Wolverine’s eyes crinkle up into a smile. “C’mere, Red.” 

Crawling up until he’s straddling Logan’s cock, Wade can’t help but mirror the expression. There’s no one else on this planet – no one else in the multiverse – who matches his freak like Logan does. Who loves him like Logan does. They’re two perfect halves of the same fucked up pepperoni pizza. 

Wade rubs his half-hard cock against Logan’s until he’s groaning with need, gripping it tight before leaning in to kiss that spot on his neck that makes him all hot under the collar. Logan gasps instantly and almost crushes Wade to him, pressing his face into Wade’s old t-shirt. Tilting his head for better access. 

“Fuck, please,” he says, breath hot on Wade’s skin through the material. 

He comes undone in only a few strokes, in just a handful of open-mouthed kisses pressed to his neck. Logan pants and gasps through every pulse of his orgasm, arching into Wade’s hand as Wade strokes him through it. 

“Good boy,” Wade tells him, low and hot in the shell of Logan’s ear. He shudders at the praise, dribbling a little more come with the smallest sound of need. Fuck. 

They breathe for a while, cuddled close like that. The feeling of Logan’s arms around him and listening to his pulse gradually slow against Wade’s cheek is his idea of a lazy morning well spent. He’d gladly spend hours like this, if it weren’t for the mess they’re currently covered in starting to get cold. Hell, they might come right back here to their little bed nest after they shower. 

“C’mon, peanut,” he says eventually. “Let’s get cleaned up. We’re gonna be stuck together if we don’t move now.” 

Logan doesn’t answer at first. When he does, his response is another trio of hitched sneezes into the collar of Wade’s shirt, followed by an irritated growl. 

“Sorry. And yeah, let’s go,” he sighs, rubbing at his itchy nose with the back of his hand. “Wade, get offa me.”  

Wade can’t move; he’s stunned into horny silence, more than aware of his cock filling up against Logan’s thigh. 

Once he realizes what’s going on, Logan breaks out in an embarrassed grin, shoving Wade off of his lap and onto the mattress. 

“You are the fucking worst.” 

“I love you too, babygirl,” Wade says sweetly. “And bless you!”