#i wish i were salad fingers

[eriseclipsel]

Ghost Mutuals Tag Game 🦇 Send this to the last ten Ghesties in your notifications, then reply here with ten facts about yourself! Let's get to know each other!

Thank you for tagging me @hellboundwrites

Erm fun facts about me uhhh

1. I have no idea what's going on at any given time and I am so lost, like, always

2. I have multiple pictures of people I've never met in my wallet for when I get murdered so that when I'm found, people will have to go on a wild goose chase with no real conclusion

3. I am about as intelligent as a rock

4. I really really adore quantum mechanics and I won't ever apologize

5. I have a very fat cat. He weighs 20 pounds. He says hi and he loves you.

6. Have you ever heard of Ranboolive ugh (see #3)

7. I can put my palms flat on the ground and still bend my elbows without bending my knees. Hrlp

8. As of right now, I have stitches in my arm. Yippee

9. I am half mexican and full dipshit

10. I accidentally bought a 200$ bape shirt for 8$ at a thrift store purely because it was the ugliest shirt I'd ever seen and I loved that

Uh yeah peace and love or whatever they say <3

[weaponizedmoth]

I should draw more gore, more blood, more viscera, things of that nature.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Alley Chat (Dp x dc)

Danny leaned on the dirty alleyway walls, his head down, as he tried to stave off tears. Taking one more shaky breath, he did his best to let it out slowly.

“You’re fine,” he gasped. 

Then, one more gulp, “You’re safe.”

And then, “Breathe.”

“C’mon just-“ he heaved in a breath, “breathe goddammit.” 

Then he tilted his head backwards as his eyes slid shut. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, his heart-rate finally slowing down.

He brushed away the wet of his cheeks with the rag he’d shoved in his barista apron earlier. Figuring it was already ruined as it was he blowed his nose in it as well. Now if he could just splash his face with cold water, he’d be almost as new.

He reached for the stick of gum he knew he’d left in the bigger pocket only to freeze as he felt something smoother under his fingers. The card from earlier.

“This is for you,” his father had said, looking more unsure of himself than Danny had ever seen him. “Danny-o…”

“We’re sorry, Danny,” his mother had taken over, and there had been tears in her eyes. “We’re so sorry, we didn’t know-“

“You can’t be here,” Danny had said calmly enough, though his hand had been shaking.

“Danny-“ his mom had started, as she had reached towards him and Danny just couldn’t do this.

He had felt his pulse in his ear, his chest constricting and he hadn’t been able to think past the need to get out, out, out.

There’d been bright light, and then he had been away from the noise, and he had ran until he couldn’t breathe. 

And here he was getting pushed to the precipice by a fucking card.

“No,” he told himself but his eyes were already watering. “No,” he choked out, fruitlessly.

“Goddamit,” he hiccuped as tears began to fall. And then it was as if the dam had broken. Every single tear he’d managed to repress were now coming back twofold. His whole body was wrecked by big heaving sobs and he had a moment to be glad he’d found himself a secluded place to have his fit in peace.

“Oh, buddy,” he heard from behind just as the thought registered.

He turned around to find a guy in a skintight red suit looking at him.

“Are you ok?” The guy said before rallying. “That’s a dumb question, isn't it.”

The halfa just looked at the man.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Danny shook his head. He was actively trying not to think about it.

“Is it ok if I stay here ?”

Danny was too drained to care about a stranger witnessing this, so he raised his shoulders.

“I can talk if you don’t want to, I’ve been told I’m quite the motormouth.”

The man let a bit of silence pass before apparently he decided that was an agreement and he started blathering on about- rainbows was it?”

“-sure if compared against the big fishes, Rainbow Raider is far from the worst but I just can’t get over how petty his reason to turn to crime is. I’m not saying being colour blind would make being an artist easy but it doesn’t make impossible. Beethoven was deaf and look at him now! Ok that was poorly phrased, but you get what I meant-“

And on he went, talking about anything that was going through his head it seemed.

As it went on, Danny realized his hands had stopped shaking and there was a tugging at his lips that was ever so slight, but near miraculous so soon after his cry session.

“-where does the iron even come from? Like do spinach plants just make it? What does a spinach plant look like for that matter? I’m picturing like a salad plant but where do the stalks come from then,” the man hummed before there was a sound like a TV’s white noise and the man straightened. After a moment, he turned towards Danny and gave him a smile.

“I’m gonna have to run,” he said. “I’m not often in the neighborhood, so we might not meet again, so I wish you best of luck, bud.”

Another brilliant smile and he turned away.

Danny jumped forward in time to stop the man’s immediate departure. Said man turned to give Danny a quizzical look.

“Thank you,” said Danny painfully sincere.

The man’s face softened in a smile for a moment and then he was gone.

[natsaffection]

Apologize.

Sugar Mommy!Natasha x sugar baby!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+!

Summary: Natasha let you apologize to her employees

Warnings: Age gap! (N= 37 R= 21), BDSM themes, Mommy kink, spanking, fingering (while watched), degration

Word count: 2,3k

A/n: Happy New year! What better way to start the year than by cumming 4 times bc of this amazing creature? What? Never mind 🔊

💵 This plays in the My sweet Baby universe 💵

-

The soft glow of dawn seeped through the large windows of Natasha's penthouse, casting a warm hue across the room. She stirred from her peaceful slumber, a contrast to the groggy but content figure beside her – You.

She, with her graceful demeanor, carefully extricated herself from the cozy embrace, causing you to mumble in protest. „it's Saturdayyy, Why are you getting up so early?"

Natasha smirking and looking back to you, "Some of us have responsibilities, little girl. Work doesn't take weekends off." You, still half-asleep, pouted as Natasha leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'll be back soon. Try to get some more sleep."

"Mmm, too early for responsibilities.."

As Natasha prepared for the day, the scent of fresh coffee filled the air. You, now more awake, shuffled into the kitchen in one of Natasha's oversized shirts. "You make the best coffee, you know?" Natasha looks behind her, surprised that you are awake now and have gotten up, "One of my many talents.."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Natasha with a mix of admiration and love. Despite the early hour, Natasha's presence radiated confidence and grace. "It won't be too long. What do you have planned for the day?"

you accepted the cup she gave you and thought for a moment "well, Maybe a lazy day in, catching up on shows. You know..the usual."

"Sounds perfect. I'll be back before you know it." Before she goes, she looked at one of her Maiden, “Make sure she gets a good breakfast, I’ll be off for the day.”

“Of course, Mrs. Romanoff. Safe travels.”

As Natasha prepared to leave, she glanced toward the kitchen, catching your eye. „Please don’t made a mess while I’m gone.“

You weren't sure what she meant, but you just smiled innocently and nodded. Natasha takes another quick look around and leaves the house to go to work. As you hear the car drive further and further away, you think about what you can do today. Natasha's house all to yourself? You have to make the most of it.

You get up and put your cup in the sink and before one of the maids could take it, you jump in, "if you like, you can go home.."

She looked at you and just smiled as she picked up the cup, "Don't worry, Ms. Y/n it's fine." But you wouldn't be dissuaded "come on! Surely you have things to do? What's the big deal?"

You put on your puppy dog face and take the cup from her again. She looks at you and relents, "okay fine, but I'll be back in a few hours." Before closing the door, she looks back and bows, "Thank you, Ms Y/n"

And now you're storm free. If you're honest, you already had a plan. You pull out your cell phone and text Kate to see if she's up for a game. Knowing her, she agrees and a little later all you could hear was your screams in the living room.

"Go on, Kate!"

The living room echoed with the sounds of virtual warfare and animated banter as you and Kate immersed yourselves in their gaming session. The excitement mounted and soon you’re playful trash talk escalated to full-blown screams.

"Take that! In your face!"

"No way! I totally had you!"

"Admit it, Kate. I'm the gaming champion!"

"Oh, you wish! Prepare for the ultimate comeback!"

The planned two hours turned into seven and one cup ended up being more. A bag of potato chips here and a salad there. Of course, that wasn't enough, and 2 cartoons of pizza were also added.

You had completely lost track of time and didn't even notice when Maria and the others entered the house and stood there in complete shock. As if it wasn't going to get any better, they heard the keys to the front door and a second later a stressed Natasha came in, exhausted from the day

As Natasha entered her penthouse, she noticed that the hallway was already bustling with people. She put her bags down and called Maria.

"What's going on?"

Maria fidgeting nervously, "Um, well, Mrs. Romanoff,..." Natasha sensed the hesitation and raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Maria? Speak up."

Maria was split between coming to your defense and speaking the truth of her bite "It's just that, um, Miss Y/N may have gotten a little carried away with her activities today. The dishes are piling up, well, the living room isn't exactly in its usual state."

Natasha's expression became serious "I see. Thank you for the information."

"I'm sorry if I -"

"It's not your fault. I appreciate your honesty. I'll take care of it."

Maria nodded and Natasha proceeded to confront you. When she arrived in the living room, she understood what Maria meant. It looked disastrous and you were sitting in the middle of it. With wide headphones on and shouting into them as if you couldn't be heard.

You, on the other hand, were so absorbed in your world that you didn't even notice Natasha grabbing the remote control and switching off the TV. You were so baffled and thought it was a mishap that you read it out like that „NO! What the hell!!! Why is now-" As you get up, you collide with Natasha and fall back onto the couch, "Nat! What are you doing here already?"

She, however, was totally unenthusiastic and you could see that in her eyes, "Already? Y/n have you looked at the time? It's 6 pm! How long have you been sitting in front of that thing?" You repeat what she said and look in shock at the big clock on the wall and your heart stops. Fuck. At that moment you remembered everything else and looked around. Your garbage was everywhere, pizza boxes, forks, empty bottles, the sink was full to the brim, stains everywhere, "U-Uhm...I must have forgotten the time..."

Natasha swallowed her nerves and put the remote back down, "looks like it! You have 10 minutes to clean up the mess. I'm going to take a shower, the day hasn't been stressful enough."

Wow, she sounds like your mom when you were little. Why do they always want you to do it right away? You sigh and lean against the couch again to get away from all the trouble, but Natasha doesn't like that, "What do you think you're doing? Come on, clean up."

You rolled your eyes and your mouth was faster than your brain "come on clean up... Why doesn't Maria do it or something..." when you had spoken it, you remained frozen and literally prayed that Natasha hadn't heard. You turn around, heart pounding, and see her staring at you. Now you really have it. "I-I didn't mean that! I-!"

"Undress."

You blink, what did she say?

Natasha's nostrils flared, her chest rose and fell. "Ah, not so chatty now?" she walks up to you and lifted your chin, "what's wrong? Color?“ Despite the situation, your stomach flutters that she could switch her emotions so much and now asked you about your condition, „G-Green, it's just..what if the others come in?"

Natasha in turn, grinned, "Oh sladost (darling), if that's it..don't worry about it. Now turn around, knees, hands on the floor, and ass in the air.“

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you turned around. Lower your hands to the floor and kneel on the ground. You hear Natasha sit down on the couch and seconds later, came the first blow, "I won't stop until your ass is purple," she announced casually and started again, "You don't have to count this time. But you better be prepared to barely be able to sit for the next week."

You try as hard as you can to stay quiet, so as not to make Natasha any angrier and let the spanks wash over you. After 10 strokes, she leans over you and asks in your ear, "Color?" You exhale deeply and with wiggling arms you say, "Green..."

Natasha leaned back again, "stand up and look at me." You do as she said and now stand in front of her with trembling legs. She leans up again, and looks up at you, "Do you trust me?" You didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but you were clear about one thing, "Of course, Mommy. Always." You see her smiling contentedly, "well then. Off to the corner back there, on your knees and hands behind your back." Your eyes widen. That was new. "M-Mommy..why-"

"Don't question me, or your punishment will be even longer."

You let out a shaky breath and angrily do as she said. When you were in position, Natasha finally stood up, "Come in and clean up please."

Your breath caught in your throat. This isn't really happening.

Natasha looked at you as Maria and the others entered the room to clean up the mess you had made. They didn't even glance at you because they knew what was going to happen if. You, however, didn't know and felt totally exposed. You feel your hands grow cold and close your eyes so that you can drown in the shame of strangers.

"I know it's a lot, but try to do it in ten minutes. I'm finally going to take my shower, and you over there! Don't move an inch." She looks at you again to make sure you've understood. You just whisper "Y-Yes, Mommy.." to yourself and then hear her leave the room. You also heard the maids running through the room to remove the dirt. You just wanted to sink into the ground and try to think of something else.

When Natasha came back exactly 10 minutes later, she was proud to see that not only did the room look clean again, but you were still kneeling in your corner. "What a good girl you can be. Come here."

You stood up and your knees were red due the kneeling. Turning around, you took in the room again and looked around for the maids, but found none. You slowly approached Natasha and she welcomed you with her hands on your hips and looked down at you. "Jump."

You knew what that meant and you jump, wrapping your legs around her, thinking you were both going up to her bedroom now. But you were wrong. She angrily moved you to the couch and put you down again. She kissed you and swallowed your moans that you let out. Then she kissed her way down and stood up again. She took one hand and stroked it from your thigh down to your knee and lifted it slightly. She put her tongue on it and licked her way back up to your throbbing spot, not taking her eyes off you for a second. When she finally took your clit in her mouth, she held your thighs down so you couldn't bend too far and you moaned.

"You are fabulous, your cunt is fabulous." She poked her tongue in, and you put your hands over your mouth, afraid that the others were still around. Natasha noticed this and pulled her tongue out of you. She reached under your back and pulled you up to her. She turned you so that your back was now leaning against her chest. She didn't hesitate for a second and immediately filled you with her fingers "Ah! This p-position! It’s ..."

Natasha wraps an arm around you and pulls you even closer, thrusting deeper into you. You leaned forward to somehow release the pressure, but fearing you were mistaken, Natasha turned you and leaned you against the wall with a hard thrust. She attacks your neck and pumped her fingers in and out, if she didn't hold you against the wall, you would surely slide up and down, „It’s t-too r-rough , my back..."

She lifted one thigh so you could put some weight on it and continued with her temp, "come in."

You were preoccupied with yourself, but when you heard, "Ms. Romanoff." your eyes shot open and you saw Maria standing right in front of you with her head down.

Natasha looked at you, "Apologize to her." Your head is spinning and Natasha's fingers just wouldn't stop pumping continuously in your pussy, this time her thumb rubbing wildly against your clit, "tell her you're sorry for the mess and for the fact that she cleaned it up!"

She gave a strong thrust which made you slide up a little and groan, "I'm sorry! Ah-no ..please..I'm..s-sorry! Ah-h!!!" Natasha was still pushing, "for..?"

She can't be serious..you could barely think, "t-the filth..please.."

"Apology accepted, Ms. Y/n, thank you." You managed to open your eyes a little and blurred to see that Maris still had her head bent down.

"Dismissed." natasha told her in a cold tone and Maria left the room again. Now, Natasha looked at you again, "how's it looking? Lesson learned?" You were literally drooling on her shoulder and could almost just nod, "y-yes..I'm sorry..please..I'm almost there-"

Natasha had to chuckle and applied pressure to her hand one last time. You tensed and held onto her shoulder like you would die if you fell off and before you knew it You came all over her, completely staining her and the floor in your wetness.

Natasha had to hold you so you didn't slip out of her arms. She lifted you bridestyle and you leaned against her chest. This time she really is on her way to the bedroom and as she climbs the stairs she looks at you again and speaks softly, "You know they never seen you from the front. The sight is only for me and especially only for you, okay?"

You wanted to say something about how nice you thought the gesture was, but you just couldn't find the strength and fall into a deep sleep.

-

-

-

I wannaaaaa

[feitanii-ll]

∘ ˚𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝟰 𝗬𝗢𝗨!!

(nanami, kento x fem!reader)

(fluff)

nothing will alter the suffocating love and passion that nanami kento feels for his wife. practically joined to the hip, kento is to his wife like a moth to a flame— pushing and pursuing this shining star (being you), blindly and aimlessly, simply because he loves you, and wants to give you his all. show you that, God, you're all his. whether it's rubbing your feet after a long day of work (even after trying to convince you that you can stay home because he can do enough for the both of you to provide), or mumbling soft words into your shoulder as you hover over the stove to cook your shared dinner, sending your order of a chicken sandwich and avocado salad to your work for lunch— kento will do anything for his wife. his soul. his other half.

and he stands on that. very rarely does kento ever say no to you. how could he ever? you wanna eat there? it's always yes, baby. you're thinking about getting that shirt? yeah, baby, here's the card. take it to the register. can you call out of work? yes, honey. do you even have to ask? you're so sweet to him. so polite and loving, he wants to give you the world. he can't find himself in any situation in which he would say no.

except now...

"oh, would you just look at them," kento hears your praise for the umpteenth time in the 30 minutes you've been staring into the orangized array of fishtanks, the neon lights of the decorated aquatic home displaying on your skin as you get face to face with a multitude of dead-eyes gold fish. a petshop. a petshop of all places, he had to take you. in the background, there's the chittering of birds, bubbling of aquatic tanks and the occasional bark! from the vet center that's connected to the place.

"they're just so cute..." he hears you mutter. he knows you're playing it off as mumbling to yourself, when in reality, you want him to feel bad that he's yet to having said yes to buying the entire tank. or the other animals that were scattered amongst the store. "I wish we could have a tank..." you sigh dramatically, to which your husband groans in exasperation.

"sweetheart, please. you're making this very difficult for me." he sighs, running a rough hand over his face, rubbing the inner corners of his eyes with the pads of his thumb and index. "you don't know how to take care of them." he tells you in the most respectful way he can to his wife.

"I could learn, kenny," you whip around to face him "look at them!"

he looks tired and unimpressed. distressed, even, as he's fighting the desire to say yes and just buy the damn fish. and he could almost cry at how you stamp your foot lightly on the tiled floor in desperation to get him to understand, "they're so cute! look at them, kento. they're all squished in the tank and stuff." God, you're cute.

"they're fine, honey," he watches as you turn back to the tank and observe the small fish again, resting a hand on your shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. "they get taken care of. see?" he nod his head over to an unsuspecting worker nearby who was restocking the mini-fride of fish food. "safe and sound, dear. I'm sure they like it here." he doesn't know that.

"but they need a home.."

"you said that about the birds, my love." he smiles a little, lifting a brow in confusion.

"that still stands!" he watches you nod firmly, and for once, his princess was making it hard to not be that unrelenting-in-giving husband he strives to be.

"honey, I know you want them, but.. I'm certain you don't know a thing about taking care of fish," you go to cut him off, ready to protest, but he makes an 'aht aht ' sound, lifting a finger to stop you, to which you deflate.

"or birds. or hamsters, or rats, or, goddamn, my love, definitely not a tarantula." he reminds, referring to how just a few minutes ago, you were gushing over the fuzzy creature in its tank. "you just asked me to kill a spider for you last week. you'd hurt the poor thing." he explains, never getting angry or annoyed with you. his tone is that ever so gentle wave of sounds that you adore.

"—and I'd settle on getting you a bird, but they need lots of care, as do all pets. we're both too busy for that, now, aren't we?" kento hums, cupping your cheek and caressing with the pads of his thumb as he sees the look of disappointment on your pretty features.

"when we're truly, truly ready, dear— we can think about it more in depth. but don't get the animal simply because that big heart of yours is wanting to give them a home. it'll be alllright." he hums again, and you pout, knowing that there's a mountain of truth in his words.

you sigh, glancing away from the fishtank and leaning into his chest. he doesn't hesitate to wrap an arm around your shoulder, allowing you your right as his wife to smell that thick cologne that makes your head go all fuzzy and warm.

"there we are.." his voice drops an octive when you relent, silently agreeing to his point. "you're alright, mama. I know you've got a big heart. one day, baby, okay? just not today."

kento feels a sense of emptiness in telling you no, and he knows it's because the concept is so foreign to him. you're his princess. and, if he was irresponsible with his love for you (which, he is) he'd give you every animal in the shop your little heart desires.

"a rabbit..?" your voice snaps him out of his through as he begins to lead you out of the shop.

"hm?" the glances down at you, pushing the double doors open, waving briefly to to cashier who greets the two of you goodbye before his attention is on you again.

"a rabbit, kento? if we ever get the chance?" you ask, so so sweetly. he's a weak man for his wife.

"yes, sweetheart." he sigh with a knowing smile on his face. "yes. we'll look into it."

your smile is wide when you feel his soft lips against your cheek. you slip your hands out of the pockets of your hoodie, wrapping your arms around his middle as you both walk away towards the car.

"'kay.. love you, kento." you remind him. he chuckles, and the sound goes straight to your tummy, dropping and erupting in a cloud of butterflies.

"thank you, baby," he leans over your back, opening the car door for you, dipping his head down to kiss between your neck and shoulder as he does. "I love you more. you know that, yes?"

"yes, kento." you respond, tone wavering. he preens at your shy smile, and you have to make your way into the car, feeling that the pet mart parking lot was much too public for the display of affection.

"good. let's go home, baby." he shuts the car door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

might be late to the nanami party, but hi.

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIVATE LESSONS – Sanji x female reader

Summary: on what is supposed to be another of your private cooking lessons, you and Sanji get closer... in a very intimate way.

Pairing: Sanji x female reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: pure fucking, dirty, obscene fingerfucking smut, some plot, heavy hand kink, eye contact, language (also reader thinks herself as a slut at some point), fingering, cum play(?), semi-public, praising, pet names (darling, sweetheart, good girl...).

Notes: this is just full of smut so yeah. Idk, this is my realization that I am a Sanji whore. Enjoy you sinners. And I'm sorry for any errors as English is not my main language. (I'll keep apologizing for this lol).

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Probably will make a part 2 to consumate this shit, but I can't promise I will...

GEN MASTERLIST!

Months ago, you started at the Baratie as a waitress but your biggest wish was cooking. And Sanji was there to help you with that. You had absolutely no idea how to start, lucky for you, the blonde chef of the restaurant was aware of your dreams. So you started lessons after your shift.

"Can't deny the wishes of a pretty thing like you," you remembered Sanji saying when you finally asked him to teach you. He winked and put a playful smirk on his lips.

Yes, Sanji was a flirt - but he was a flirt with everyone. So you never took personally his random comments and hits, until you started your cooking classes.

The Baratie was always closed and there was no one but Sanji and you in the kitchen. He had started with the basic stuff, like chopping vegetables and soft meat, and making easy entries and sidedishes.

There was a problem though. This was almost the fourth week you were receiving his lessons and you found out there was something distracting you a lot recently: his hands.

His beautiful, strong hands, that, in a delicate manner, would slice a fish and would convert it in the most delicious dish you ever tasted ever. You became so immersed in his hands doing little to nothing. Even if Sanji wasn't cooking, just fixing his hair or having a cigarrette, everything you could keep your focus on was his beautiful fingers, sometimes wearing pretty rings and jewels around them. And the way the veins on his big hands would appear... Gods, your mind started to wonder a lot of things and it was becoming difficult keeping your focus on the special salad you were preparing that night.

"You're doing great, love," Sanji whispered, staying right behind you and monitoring carefully your chopping like an inspector.

His sweet words were no help for you at all. With a deep breath, you finished with the last eggplant. Sanji immediately came closer and leaned behind your back, and you controled the loud gasp that was about to burst. You felt his strong body pressed against your own, and he suddenly grabbed your hand still holding the knife to start chopping a small piece of the eggplant you just finished. His arms were now sorrounding your figure as he guided softly on how you were supposed to cut it.

"Just make sure to cut them like this, see?"

All you could give was a nod. Fuck, you felt so embarrassed, hypnotized by his hands working on the must mundane activities in the whole world, grabbing firmly the knife between his fingers.

Those thick fingers you fantasized about late at night; not letting you pay attention to the important things Sanji would say to you about cooking. Those fingers you wished to have inside you right now, to lick them, to suck on them until they were completely dry... You rub your thighs together and try to keep your thoughts locked to continue with the lesson.

"Yeah, I see now. Thanks, Sanji," you were surprised you were actually able to talk.

You heard his chuckle behind you before shifting and come by your side, leaving you free of his grip and the warmth of his hands that you were already missing.

"Lets plate then."

Sanji guided you on how to place each ingredient on the bowl, making it harder for you to follow his pace. It took longer than you expected, but you were trying to keep your shit together; your skirt and shirt suddenly felt too tight on your figure and you tried to not rub your thighs, even if you wished for some friction right now.

Once the bowl was done, Sanji took the small plate with the sauce you prepared earlier and gave it a delicate taste, licking the spoon with his tongue.

Why did he look so hot just by doing anything? Was he aware of the effect he had in you lately? Was he teasing you? Or where you just hot and bothered already? No answer you had for any of those questions.

Sanji wrinkled his brows, savoring the sauce with such delicacy, and after a moment or so of thinking he looked at you.

"I think something is missing," he said.

"What? I put everything that was on the recipe for the sauce." In a swift move, you took the spoon from his hand and had a taste yourself. "Seems okay for me."

The chef tsked. "Darling, you need to taste it differently. Deeper, go further than usual."

Sanji dipped his forefinger on the sauce and brought it to your lips. With hesitation, you opened your mouth and licked the sauce from his finger, not only tasting the sauce but savouring the moment. Was he aware of how you looked at his hands? You were not going to question it. Not when you carefully wrapped your soft lips around him, closing your eyes slowly, arousal building up between your legs. His words were no help either, it was like if he was testing the waters and so were you.

You felt Sanji pulling out his finger from your mouth and you let out a soft moan. You wanted to snap yourself. He smirked, he obviously heard your pretty noise.

"Sorry..." you were ashamed but the burning desire was growing and winning over you. What a fucking slut, you thought to yourself. It didn't matter right now. You just had a taste of his fingers.

"So what'd you say?" Sanji interrupted the voice inside your head.

Your dark eyes looked intensely his charming blue ones. "I still think the taste is good."

Sanji leaned down, almost brushing your lips and looking like if he was forcing himself to not press his lips to yours right there and then. Until he did. He captured your lips in a heated and rough kiss, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and tasting the sauce and the sweetness of your plump lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek and the other pulled you closer, forcing your back to press against the counter. Now, you were trapped between his body and the surface.

A moan escaped your throat and Sanji happily swallowed it on the heated make out session you shared. He lifted you up so you were sitting on the empty side of the counter, taking shallow breaths, as he stood between your parted legs, stroking the skin of your thighs without any rush.

"I've noticed you look at my hands so attentively," he mumbled, biting your lower lip softly. You gasped, but he continued. "Why's that?"

His question left you speechless for a moment. Did he really need to ask?

"Sanji, I already licked your finger..."

His palms traced their way under your skirt, and his fingers teased your inner thighs, finding the fabric covering your wet core.

"Well, darling, doesn't that mean we can go further? Deeper?"

"Go ahead then," you mumbled, full of lust. Your skin was aching already for him and this was all you needed to feel complete. Him.

With that, his fingers rubbed you softly over your panties, pressing on the wet patch you were already making. Sanji smirked and he leaned to pay attention to the delicate skin on your neck. His lips pressed soft kisses, leaving a trail of them, until he found the sweet spot that made you melt into his touch, nibbling and sliding his tongue against your neck until he met your collarbone.

"Sanji..." the soft whimper past your lips and you held your breath, eyes closed as he hiked up your uniform skirt and puts aside the panties covering your core from him.

His name falling off your lips made his cock inside his trousers twitch, restraining himself to not fuck you right there in the counter until the only thing that was on your mind was his name and only him. Right now, he decided he would take care of you first. As you deserved it.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart," he groaned, forehead pressing against yours.

His fingers found your pussy, spreading your folds softly, coating them with your already dripping juices. Sanji rubbed your clit and he teased your entrance, going at an agonizing rhythm. All you wanted was for him to fuck you with his fingers. Now. You started to grind your hips, needing some more friction, knowing he would get the hint of your despair.

"Please, Sanji," you whined.

Sanji chuckled, and you felt pathetic for begging. You could tell he was enjoying your squirm. His free hand cupped the nape of your neck forcing your dark eyes to look at his own directly.

"Look at me," Sanji ordered. "Do not dare to close your eyes, darling."

You bit your lip and nodded, gripping tightly the edge of the counter.

"Good girl," he whispered with a raspy voice, and with a lustful smile on his lips. "I want to see you come undone."

And with his statement, he eased one digit inside your velvety walls. You moaned louder this time.

"Fuck, you're so ready for me," Sanji growled, noticing how obvious the ache between your thighs was. "You're perfect, darling," he cooed against your lips. His praising caused your walls to clench around him, gaining another dark smile from the blonde man.

The thrusts of his finger started in a delicate pace. Instantly, your eyes clenched, breath hitching, as he filled you up. Sanji gradually increased his pace, curling his finger to reach your deepest spot, and you felt your juices coating your thighs with his moves.

"You look at me, don't forget," Sanji whispered, his other hand now cupping your cheek. You obeyed, opening your eyes for him.

A second finger made its way inside your cunt and he pumped them harder this time. Your legs were spreading wider, moaning against his lips, dying to kiss him one more time. But you tried your hardest to mantain the deep eye contact, realizing where you were right now. In the empty kitchen of the Baratie, with the blonde chef between your legs, fucking you with his pretty fingers. Those he protected and took care of so attentively.

And now, the only place Sanji wanted to have his fingers on was inside of you. You looked flushed, sweaty and simply gorgeous, cyring and whimpering. All for him. Your pussy was throbbing and you let a rather loud and erotic moan.

"Shit, I'm so close," you cried.

"Just come for me, beautiful..."

His lips catching your swollen ones in a heated kiss. He curled up his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit softly. Your hips trying to meet the thrusts of his hand desperately, your smooth walls clenching around his digits. Sanji realized he enjoyed the control and power he had over you as you reached your heavenly climax. He loved it more than he could ever think of.

Your body trembled, and finally, you felt sweet release hitting you, walls spasming in ecstasy around his fingers. Foreheads still touching, eyes locked as he watched you come undone. Exactly like he wanted it to be.

You moaned his name under your breath over and over, filled with pleassure. Sanji felt your thighs closing and your pussy contracting around his digits. He let you catch your breath for a moment, enjoying the heat of your body. For the first time, Sanji then pulled away his forehead, remaining still between your legs, and slowly removing his fingers from your throbbing cunt, eyes looking directly to your wetness.

Still covered with your juices, Sanji used both his hands to spread your folds obscenely to get a better look at your pussyhole. Fuck, you felt so exposed to him, but you couldn't care less. You had a mindblowing orgasm just moments ago.

"Fuck-" you cried.

"So beautiful," he praised. Again, you whimpered and your hips bucked a little.

Sanji pushed a finger slowly inside you, just to gather more of your sweetness, so he could finally have a taste. He licked both fingers he used on you before, humming like he had found the best meal in days.

"So how is it?" you finally asked, teasing him.

"Sweetheart, you're delicious."

You laughed softly, realising you totally forgot about the dish you were preparing that night. "Is this included on your private lessons, Sanji?"

"Only if you want," he leaned down to share a last kiss, this time more gentle than the others.

He already knew your answer.

[mattatouilletkachuk]

So excited for the summer series! The prompts you chose were perfect! It was impossible to just pick one! May I please request 5 with Jack?

Hazy Clarity || Jack Hughes x reader

Prompt: 5. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I really am trying to get through these requests. Promise. Anyways I hope you like this.

Warnings: drug use (for medical reasons)

Summary: You thought you knew what you were getting into when you volunteered to take care of Jack after his surgery.

When you volunteered to be with and take care of Jack after his surgery you thought you knew what you were getting yourself into. Dating Jack for a year and knowing him for a year beforehand meant that you had seen him injured before and that usually, you would skip going to your apartment in favor of spending your time in his to make sure he was okay. Perhaps being there after Jack had his surgery was more so to calm your anxious mind but even though he wasn’t completely awake and coherent, he still seemed to appreciate the company.

Antsy. That was the best way to describe Jack. Since you met him it seemed like he always had to be doing something, even if it was just sitting down, if he wasn’t talking he would bounce his leg or constantly tap his fingers. It was like watching a child try and contain a sugar rush. So it was a little off-putting to watch as Jack sat on your couch, still as could be. He had several pillows cushioning his arm as he dozed quietly.

Quietly, so you wouldn’t wake him up, you grabbed the thickest throw blanket you had and covered Jack with it. He barely stirred as you tucked the blanket loosely around him. You stifled a giggle as you watched him twitch his nose at your actions before going still again.

When it was clear that he wasn’t waking up anytime soon you checked your phone only to see several dozen messages from his teammates, friends, and family. They ranged from asking how Jack was feeling and if he was doing better to asking how you were managing. You replied to all of them, letting everyone know that Jack is doing fine and recovering well. When you got to Jack’s family you gave a little more detail, telling Ellen that there was no need to worry and that he’s mostly been asleep because of the pain medication. Luke had asked if he should come to visit after the season ends to help with everything but you reassured him that he would see Jack soon and that you had everything under control. You wished him luck on the few remaining games the Devils still had to play and made sure to let him know that you and Jack would be watching them.

Once you managed to respond to every text you plugged your phone into the charger in the living room and made your way into the kitchen to make something for dinner.

When he was awake, Jack proved to be rather ravenous. It didn’t surprise you at all, even when he was healthy and uninjured he could still eat you out of house and home. You didn’t want to test the limits of his medication and end up having him throw up the food you made later. So you finally landed on making the salmon you had just recently bought and tomato cucumber avocado salad.

Your apartment wasn’t all that big. If you poked your head out of the kitchen you could see directly into the living room. So halfway through cooking you heard it when Jack woke up. You didn’t immediately rush to him, choosing rather to stay in the kitchen and finish the meal you were making.

You were filled with anxiety since the moment he got injured. I’m fact, you felt rather positive that if you went back to the hospital waiting room, where you sat as he had surgery, you would see a hole in the floor that you caused from the nonstop pacing you did as you waited to hear from the surgeon. Even when Jack was finally allowed to come home you couldn’t stop your mind from racing. Was your apartment clean enough? Did you have enough space for him to get better? What if he tried to do something that only made his injury worse?

You weren’t a nurse or a doctor. You had no background in medicine so the task of taking care of your healing boyfriend was daunting, to say the least. What you did have, though, was two years of knowing Jack. You could read his mood and body language better than anybody else. You knew when he was hurt, stressed, or upset and you knew exactly what to do to help. At least most of the time.

So when you heard some light shuffling from the living room and a quiet cough you knew he was awake. When you heard the television being turned on and the soft noise from it you were only proven right.

It doesn’t take you long to finish cooking and once you’re done you make two plates and head back out to the living room. You smile at the sight that greets you. Jack added another pillow to prop up his arm and found another throw blanket the wrap around himself. He blinks a bit sluggishly from underneath the blankets but the soft smile that adorns his face when he sees you makes it feel like butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach.

You smile back at him and set the plate of food on the coffee table. When you sit down you immediately feel Jack's cheeks and forehead for any warmth. The doctors told you to keep an eye out for any signs of a fever in the first few days after his surgery. His cheeks were warm but nothing that should have you worrying. It was only the warmth of sleep that still clung to him and made his cheeks rosy red.

Before you could pull your hand away Jack nuzzled into your touch. His eyes slipped close again and a sigh left his mouth. You ignored the way your heart beat faster and pulled your hand back gently.

“Hey, pretty boy, how’re feeling?” You asked softly.

Jack quietly groaned before forcing his eyes back open. His eyes were still red and glossy from sleep and when he spoke his voice was husky and his talking slow. “Still in a lot of pain.”

You glanced at the clock you had hanging on your wall to see how much time had passed since the last time you gave him any pain medication.

“You can have more medicine if you eat,” you gestured to the plate you had brought out. Jack followed to where your fingers were pointing. “It’s not good to take medication on an empty stomach.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgment before trying to sit up to eat. You watched him as he winced in pain but he didn’t say anything so you decided it was best for you to not bring anything up.

Halfway through eating and watching a rerun of The Office that was playing Jack sighed and put his fork down.

“I love your cooking,” he said almost wistfully. You glanced down at his plate and saw that only half of it was eaten, which was better than yesterday when he refused to eat anything.

“I would say thank you but I know that you routinely eat cold leftover pizza,” you huffed out a small laugh. That didn’t mean that Jack didn’t know how to cook. He could make something to sustain somebody but you couldn’t count on both of your hands the amount of times you had gone over to his apartment and saw a fridge with no food and just Gatorade and beer.

“I’m pretty confident you're the best cook I know.” He said as he burrowed himself back into the couch and under the blankets.

When he winced again you didn’t hesitate to reach over to the end table and grab the bottle of medication that he was prescribed. When you gave him the pills he immediately tipped his head back and swallowed them without water.

“I’m probably biased, though,” Jack said once he could.

You raised your eyebrow in curiosity. You finished chewing the food in your mouth before asking, “Biased how?”

“I love everything you do.”

Warmth floods your cheeks at his declaration. You hoped Jack wouldn’t notice it or that the medication would make him forget about it tomorrow. It’s not that you were embarrassed to let him see the effect he had on you, you just knew that if he was more coherent and present he’d probably tease you and perhaps it was self-absorbed or vain but all you wanted was to bask in his affections for you right now.

“Oh?” It was all you could think to say. Jack wasn’t the most affectionate when it came to words. It was obvious that his love language was physical touch so it’s not as if you had much experience in dealing with him saying sweet things randomly.

Jack hummed and nodded his head slowly. The pills you had given him were starting to kick in, you could tell as his eyelids grew heavier with every blink and the way his head slightly bobbed around as if he was trying to keep himself awake.

“Yeah,” his voice was low and slightly stirred but he kept his blue eyes trained on you. “I love everything about you.”

A bashful smile bloomed on your face and you didn’t try to hide it from your boyfriend. You placed your plate back on the table and kissed his cheek, “I love you too, Jack.”

When you pulled away and looked at Jack you were surprised to see a frown on his lips. He didn’t look upset or angry at what you said. Instead, he looked like he was thinking hard about something.

You didn’t lean back in for a kiss but instead, you lifted your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb over the wrinkles on his forehead. “Tell me what you’re thinking about otherwise you’ll end up with wrinkles from all that frowning.”

“You don’t get it, baby,” he spoke so softly you had to strain to hear him. “I love you. I love everything about you and I know you love me but it’s not even a comparison because I know I love you more than you love me.”

“That’s not true,” his words had left you feeling breathless but despite his sweet words, you needed him to know how much you loved him. “I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me.”

Jack’s eyes slid close but his soft and sleepy smile stayed. “You don’t get it, you’re like…” he paused for a long moment to find the right words. “You’re like the sun and I’m like a plant. I’m always seeking you out and I wouldn’t be able to survive if you were gone.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. A part of you wished that you had gotten it on camera because even though Jack was never one to shy away from talking about anything, he had never said anything remotely close to what he just told you.

However, it didn’t seem like he was looking for a response because less than a few seconds after his head dropped onto one of the many pillows behind him.

You say still on the couch for a moment waiting for your racing heart to go back to its regular rhythm. Once you felt stable again, you grabbed the plates as quietly as you could to not wake your boyfriend. When you stood from the couch to bring the dishes to the kitchen you were startled by the light grip on your arm. You looked down to see Jack had reached out to stop you from leaving.

“You know, I meant what I said right?” He asked, his eyes were still closed and his grip on you was becoming more and more loose by the second.

You grabbed his hand and set it down on his chest. “I know, Jacky.”

When he spoke again his words were slow and slurred, “Good, because you're the best thing to ever happen to me.”

The last few words were almost inaudible and before you could reply Jack was asleep. You smiled down at your sleeping boyfriend with a fond smile.

You brushed a piece of hair that was in his face away and leaned down to kiss his forehead softly.

“Trust me, I feel the same way.”

You know he couldn’t hear you but it felt important to you to say it out loud. When you finally left the living room and placed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but think that volunteering to take care of Jack after his surgery was a better decision than you originally had thought.

[hahaifolded]

Good... Really? - Simon "Ghost" Riley x POC!GN Reader Drabble

Warnings: Angst, ANGST, Angst (comment about eating habits) Author Notes: I don't know where this came from so I do apologize for this. I have a part 2 in mind but I don't know when I'll write that so... yeeeeah.

Imagine Simon "Ghost" Riley asks you, the temporary interpreter for the 141, on a date. Imagine how surprised you were when after the most recent briefing, this hunk of a man approaches you asking if you like Italian and free that same night for dinner. Imagine how nervous he is when he asks, eyes looking anywhere but you, hand fidgeting at his sides. It absolutely melted your heart to see the man that made your heart beat so fast that you might faint shy to talk to you.

So imagine your shock when you agree on said date and it's just... horrible.

Just imagine you walking in, seeing him at the booth and as you catch his eye, he immediately looks away. How when you approach the table, he stays seated and mumbles out a small hi. You assume it's just a cultural difference and quickly move past it.

Then later when you ask him about work, because well it seemed like the safest conversation starter, he snaps at you, saying "we're on a date, not on base. no work talk." While he may have a point, he didn't have to say it so coldly. You try to be cheeky and ask him what does he want to talk about, hoping to ease the tension. It doesn't. Instead, it makes it worse as he just looks down.

So you both sit in silence as you look at the menu. You try to make small talk and ask him what he was thinking of getting. He answers plainly and says a salad. A SALAD? He tells you he's trying to cut, but assures you that you don't have to be shy, he can tell you like to eat. Oh wow - that cut deep. You just nod and look back at the menu. Your appetite dies at that very moment. You consider leaving, but the waiter pops up, asking if the "lovely couple" was ready to order. Simon quickly places his order and glares at you, waiting for you to go. You're already here, might as well stick through it.

So after you order a small soup that Ghost felt so compelled to ask if you were sure you wanted something so small, you start fidgeting with the menu, wondering how long does it take to toss a salad and pour a bowl of soup.

Imagine your shock when Simon finally speaks and asks if you thought the weather was nice. You died a little inside. The weather, really? You answer with a yes and even start to share how you loved this time of year, because it's perfect for-- and his eyes are glazed over. Great, he's not listening. You go quiet. It seems like he comes back to and asks you to repeat yourself. You don't.

You both sit in silent for a bit. You're trying to get comfortable, but find that you can't. You can tell that he's feeling the tension as he takes in a deep breath and lays his arms on the table. You can't help but stare at his tattoos.

Without a second thought, you reach out and try to ask him a question about them. As your fingers graze his arm, he pulls back and hisses at you.

"Don't touch me!"

The entire restaurant goes quiet and stares at your Lieutenant cradling his arm as if you burned him. You quickly pull back and apologize. You've never seen anyone recoil so much by your touch. He looks around the room and realizes the commotion you/he caused and mutters out a simple, "it's fine."

Silence falls on the two you again.

Dinner finally gets here and you don't think you ever ate a bowl of soup so fast before in your life. However, you can't even celebrate your small achievement as when you look up, you see Simon's plate already empty.

You can't help but be confused. Why did Simon Riley invite you on this date if he so clearly doesn't want to be here?

And before you can stop yourself, you ask him why the sudden interest. You deserved to know.

But damn did you wish you didn't ask when he says,

"Johnny's been hounding me to ask you on a date so I finally did."

Oh.

He asked you after Johnny, the only person on this fucking base who's even aware of your little crush on Ghost, told him too. Wait, no, BEGGED him to.

You don't know how you did it, but you managed to not to explode right there on the spot.

Or how when the waiter comes by asking if the "lovely couple" wants desert, you politely decline and ask for the check.

Or when Simon says he'll pay, because Johnny told him he had to, you just nod instead of storming off?

You don't know how you held your head high at you walked out of that restaurant, knowing that Simon Riley wasn't even interested in you and probably felt like he had to go on a date with the boring interpreter that has a stupid crush on him.

So imagine your shock, when before you can rip Johnny to shreds, he tells you how Ghost thought the date went swimmingly and can't wait for the second date.

WHAT!?

Word Count: 880

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist

[sinsofsummers]

undone

2.2k | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel miller worships the day you showed up braless to his fourth of july party. warnings: smut (of course), 18+, mdni. no outbreak au, fourth of july party (forgive him he's from texas), joel's pov, he's a dumb bitch, masturbation (m), pervy!joel but not really, age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel in his early 40s), slight religious slander (not extreme by any means!). note: this is just me dipping my toes into the dbf!joel universe, lemme know what you think! zero editing basically, i'm so sorry, there will probably be more drabbles for this. also this is consolation for the dumb shit holiday that is independence day in the us. i hate it here.

He's anything but religious; he hasn't gone to church since he was a kid. And yet...Joel Miller worships the day you went braless to his Fourth of July party.

Even now, laid in his bed with his arm thrown carelessly across his face and his fist curled tightly around his cock, he's not sure he'll ever recover.

Muffled grunts fall from his lips with every strained tug, and he's sure it sounds something like prayer. Considering the fact that you're as close to heaven as he'll ever get, he'll call it a fair assessment. If it's sacrilege to jerk off to the thought of his best friend's daughter every night...so be it.

He's never been one with any type of remarkable memory, but he knows that the image of your perfect chest peeking at him through the thin thank you'd worn that day would stick with him forever.

You'd blinked up at him with a grin, a bowl of fresh fruit salad prepared to share with the rest of the guests in your hands. A strand of hair had fallen into your eyes and he'd had to fight against every urge and keep his hand down at his side.

What he really wanted to do was brush your hair from your eyes (ever the gentleman), and then replace the spot where his fingers would touch your forehead with his lips. He'd always wondered what your hair might smell like, what shampoo you used in the morning, and how your skin looked when the suds ran down your body, rinsed down the drain.

What he wouldn't give to be the suds running down your radiant skin, to touch every curve and crevice of your body, the spots that never see the light of day.

He hadn't seen you since you'd gone to college. Well, not for more than a few days over your Christmas break each year, and even then...he'd made sure to steer clear of you. Tried to ignore the way your smile made his own stutter, how your arms were always so soft around his neck when you gave him the occasional hug.

How your eyes had begun to linger, just enough to make his jaw clench and his cock twitch.

A strangled sigh fights its way out of his chest as he remembers the events of that fateful party, and just how he's ended up here, cock in hand, your scent in his head, and your name on his tongue.

—

"Jesus Christ," he murmured when you and your dad showed up with your dishes to pass. The backyard had been strewn with red, white, and blue decorations, the perfect image of a typical Texan backyard celebration for Independence Day.

He'd been unable to hide his groan at the way the bright colors practically bled into his skull, but there was no other way to have a Fourth of July party, apparently. Of course, this was really just for tradition, and...well, his younger brother Tommy would have had his head if there weren't at least a few American flag streamers.

Your little white tank had already begun to cling to your skin in the Texas heat, the straps thin. Before he knew it, he was hoping that the sun would do him a favor and kiss your skin where he wished he could. That it might form those pretty little lines along your shoulders and give a warm glow to your face, evidence of your presence at his house, at his party, drinking his beer.

"Drunk already?" your dad's voice roused him from his momentary lapse in judgment and then Joel was getting tugged into a firm handshake and a clapped hand on his shoulder.

He tore his eyes from you and hoped that the pink in his cheeks (that was definitely there) could be mistaken for a quickly setting sunburn. He didn't want to think of what you might take his blush for if you noticed.

He chuckled, shaking his head and returning the handshake. “Hell no,” he answered hastily, “just gettin’ hungry for that fruit salad, man.” And the angel holding it. “Need a hand?” he asked you, forcing his eyes not to wander from yours.

Fuck. Your eyes were extra bright today, with the sun seemingly lighting them from the insides. And those cheeks? Already pink and sunkissed, just how he’d hoped they would be. He might have offered you some sunblock if he’d thought it was appropriate. Might have offered to help you spread it onto your smooth skin if he’d thought that was appropriate.

Of course, he’d be condemned to the darkest circle of hell if he let those thoughts run wild. So he trained his eyes on yours and waited for your response.

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ear. You squinted into the sun, an action that forced one eye closed, as if you were winking at him. “I’ve got it,” you said casually, “can I put it inside for now?” You adjusted your hold on the fruit salad, making your breasts shift under your shirt.

Joel nodded—fuck’s sake, he thought with the movement of your chest—and tilted his head toward the back door that led to the kitchen. “Go for it, Sarah’s already in there.”

Your dad had been called away by Tommy, so Joel was left in your quiet company. He watched your smile widen at the mention of his daughter’s name and felt his heart twinge. You were just a few years older than his daughter, and here he was, not only willing his cock to settle down at the sight of your nipples pressing against the cloth of your shirt, but also wishing that your smile widened at the mention of his name. 

Joel wasn’t quite sure what happened in the subsequent minute or how he moved so quickly. Before he knew it, you’d stepped closer to him and he’d stepped to the side, except he was really just getting in your way, and your eyes were widening in surprise, and then the bowl of fruit salad was shuffling in your grip and he was stumbling to get back out of your way and then—

“Shit,” you mumbled a curse. The juice from the contents of the bowl—mostly watermelon juice, it looked like—had splashed up onto your shirt, seeping through the white fabric and painting your chest a pale pink. You looked up, a careless smile replacing the distracted look on your face. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. M, really. I was gonna have to wash this shirt tonight anyway.”

“I—uh, I didn’t mean to,” was all he could come up with, and he could feel his face heating once more at the look on your face. “Shirt’s ruined. I’m sorry darlin’,” he mumbled—was the temperature increasing by the second?—and pretended not to notice the way your shirt clung even tighter to your chest. It was like a damn wet t-shirt contest, the way the darker shade of your nipples began to peek through the soiled fabric at him. He blinked and looked away, trying to ignore the way your smile had turned into a smirk. Have you caught him? 

You shrugged and passed the bowl to him. “No, it’s not,” you reassured him with a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure Sarah’s got a shirt or two I can wear.”

He’d been left standing with the bowl of your fruit salad as you’d trekked into the house, presumably to do as you’d said. When you came out just a few minutes later, he’d been talking to your dad and a few of the other neighbors that had come over. He’d almost completely forgotten about the incident, until you were there again, standing in front of him. 

In his shirt.

“Uh,” he said dumbly, not sure whether you knew whose shirt you were wearing, or if you’d gone into the wrong laundry pile.

You picked at the hem of the shirt, and he traced the lines of your long fingers with his eyes, practically seeing your sweet scent sink into the fabric. He hoped you could smell his cologne lingering on the collar as it licked against the soft skin of your neck. “Sarah found this in her closet,” you explained, “she said it was one of her sleep shirts.” You flitted your gaze to him, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in the depths of your eyes. “Smells kind of…”

Like me. He shivered despite the heat and tapped his finger on his hip to calm himself down. It smells like me, and now you’re gonna smell like me, angel.

“Like men’s cologne,” you finished with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure Sarah’s not bringing home any guys you don’t know about, Mr. Miller?”

He cocked an eyebrow and bit back a cutting remark. “‘Course not,” he said smoothly, “they’d never get past the front door.”

It was all he could do not to tug you onto his lap with his shirt hanging past your hips, giving the illusion that you weren’t wearing any shorts beneath it. Fuck, he had to get away from your father before he did anything he regretted. “Need another drink, anyone?” he offered, shifting his weight away from you in a failed attempt to get the thoughts out of his mind.

The others shook their heads, but you nodded. “I’ll get another, actually,” you said simply. And then he was stuck with you, his fingers itching to lift that shirt from your body and reveal that warm skin to his desperate mind.

The kitchen was empty—a small blessing—and Joel fished through the fridge for another beer. Handing one to you, he cherished the way your fingers brushed his as you pulled it from his grasp, the droplets of condensation running down the bottle like he knew the sweat was running down his back at the thoughts that swam through his mind.

“S’my shirt, you know,” he grumbled softly, not quite sure why he’d said it. Maybe it was to gauge what your reaction would be. Maybe he already hoped that you’d smile at the thought.

You looked down at the shirt, cheeks reddening. “It is?” you said quietly, the surprise unraveling in your voice. “I’m sorry, I can get another one—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, s’okay. Looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.”

“Oh.” Just one word, but he noticed the way your legs wobbled at the same time. The way the bottle slipped just a centimeter in your hand.

Gotcha, he smirked inwardly. 

—

Days have gone by, and he still thinks about that blush in your cheeks every night. He can’t help it when you just look so angelic in the shirt of a sinner like him. 

Joel’s hand squeezes his cock for all its worth as he strokes himself languidly, faint mumbles beginning to fall from his lips like the verses of a damn hymn. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he groans in the darkness of his room, feeling the pressure build in his body. With every muscle in his chest tensing, he lets a broken sigh escape his throat as he spills his hot seed into his hand, the picture of your face embedded in his mind’s eye. Laying there for a moment, he catches his breath as oxygen raggedly pushes itself in and out of his lungs.

And then he hears it. A knock. The front door, it sounds like.

He hastily cleans himself up, but the faint feeling of stickiness remains on his hand as he traipses down the stairs in the dark, wondering just who the hell would be knocking on his door so late at night. 

When he opens the door, he’s not exactly expecting to see the face he’d just come on his hand to. 

“Hey,” he chokes out, hiding his hand behind his back as if you might be able to see the evidence of sacrilege on his skin. He’s afraid you’ll be able to decipher the sweat on his forehead for the sinful act that it had come from just moments ago. “What’s up?”

“Oh!” you sound surprised at his answering the door, a fact that makes him smirk. “I’m just…I’m just here to return Sarah’s shirt,” you explain hastily. 

There it is, hanging from your loose grip, waiting for him to take it. “You mean mine,” he corrects gently, his grin widening as he feeds his hand up the frame of the door, hovering over you close enough that he can see your pupils widen and pulse at the proximity of his chest to yours.

Your mouth hangs open, just enough that he thinks about pushing his thumb in between your lips, up to the first knuckle. His mind goes wild at the thought of how warm and soft and wet your mouth would be around his fingers. How perfect it would be around even more.

He shoves the thoughts away as you nod. “Yeah,” you say with a breathless chuckle. “Yours, I mean. I don’t need it anymore, though. So…” your eyes drop to the shirt between you, your words trailing off.

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t need it back,” he says warmly. “Not yet, anyway. Keep it.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, the thought of you wearing it more than once lighting his mind on fire. “Keep it for now. I’ll come to collect it some other time. No reason to return it in the dead of night, doll.”

Fuck. The nickname had slipped. 

But based on the way your lips curl at the corners, he’s dodged a bullet. “Okay,” you say softly, and he swears he can see the moon reflected in your eyes. “Just for a little longer, then.”

He nods and says goodnight, closing the door only when he can see that you’ve made it back to your house next door safely. The door shuts with a soft click, and he grins to himself. 

To hell with the shirt. Doesn’t matter to him. He’ll get it back eventually. And when he does, he plans to have it smell like you.

this ending was so rushed ahhhh i have to go to work!!! bye!!!! ty for reading and all the love!!!!

tagging here cause i have to goooo to workkkkk!!!

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[1d1195]

Strong

~3.9k words

From Me: Requested by @thechaoticjoy I'm sorry it took so long, I hope I did it justice. I'll post the corresponding ask a little bit after the story has been out so long as it's okay with you 💕 I'll message you to chat!

Warnings: parental death long-term illness, hospitals, angst, tragic backstory, really sad stuff in this one. But there's some really comforting notions in it, I think. A lot of strong MC attributes and I think there's a lot to be celebrated in this kind of strength

Summary: Harry's best friend is sweet, kind, beautiful, and intelligent. He wishes she would open up to him more. Only because he doesn't want her to have to be so strong for herself. He would love to be strong for her every now and again.

“She’s the best,” Gemma said knowingly. “Sweet, calm...she’s perfect for you.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Come on Harry, you can’t possibly ignore it. It’s...nice. Different. She’s perfect.” Her smile reflected the same one as Harry. Something they both inherited from their mother. Something that Harry loved to point to when looking at the relationship between them. He liked to believe the kindness he had came from the words his mum and sister spoke. A trait that was passed down to him since he didn’t get hand-me-downs from Gemma.

The sweet girl was quietly putting things in Anne’s car after having filled Gemma’s. “You sit with your sister,” she squeezed Harry’s shoulder and left no room for argument. Within seconds, she was grabbing keys from Michal and Harry’s mum. The lovely couple had been showered with gifts for the arriving baby girl. Michal and Anne were chatting at one table, Harry and Gemma at another.

“Who does this kind of thing?” Gemma asked rhetorically. “You cannot let her get away. There is no better sister-in-law I could imagine. No better aunt,” she said pointedly.

Harry smirked, his cheeks turning red at the compliments. But it wasn’t his place to blush or accept the compliments. She was perfect. Truly. But he didn’t do anything but find her by practically stumbling into her. They worked for the same company, Harry was a research assistant and she worked in IT. One day his computer was glitching out and Harry headed down a quiet hallway.

The room was dark, just a couple strings of Christmas lights around the walls. Music played quietly from a speaker while she organized paperwork and read over her computer screen. A pair of glasses (that turned out to be just for blue light and not for seeing) perched on her nose.

She was beautiful. That was the first thing Harry noticed because he couldn’t help but notice.

“Hi,” he said in greeting. “M’laptop froze.”

She was intelligent. That was the second thing. Because she worked magic within moments to get his computer back up and running.

The rest was history. She worked on it quickly and diligently. Tapping buttons, pressing keys that Harry never touched because he wasn’t convinced his laptop wouldn’t spontaneously gain a conscience. They chatted while she worked. Nothing of major importance. How long they worked there, where they went to school, and if she had tried the new sushi restaurant down the road for lunch.

“Thanks for coming to my dungeon,” she giggled when he was leaving. “Come back any time,” her smile was his favorite thing about her.

Lunchtime from then on meant heading to the dungeon decorated with Christmas lights and pictures of her family on the desk. There was no ring on her finger and only a picture of herself and her dog that she joked about as the longest relationship she had. It meant Harry sharing the sushi from the new place and her telling him that she had a chickpea Caesar salad recipe that he would love.

Harry dated several girls over the years, and each were lovely in their own way, but Gemma wasn’t exaggerating. There was something about the lovely girl he had known for the past few years that Harry didn’t know he was missing. Dates became far and few between. But Harry wasn’t brave enough to wreck their friendship. He didn’t want to be one of those statistics that attempted to date and not have it work out. He didn’t want to lose her by any stretch of the word.

If that meant being best friends, then that was what he would do.

So, she came to family events and confused the hell out of his friends. They didn’t touch (much to Harry’s chagrin) other than a hug or an arm squeeze like she gave him earlier. Neither said anything about the trill of something more bubbling below the surface. The electricity that pulsed from her fingertips and through his entire circulatory system. Harry was content to have her in his life in any form she existed because she was lovely and wonderful.

He only wished she opened up to him the slightest bit more.

*

Harry knew her favorite color and that her mom had passed away when she was eight. But there was this element of their friendship that she seemed to hold back. It felt like Harry would drink wine while they watched movies and dump all the things he felt from a young age on her. He told her things he didn’t tell anyone—not even Gemma or Niall or Mitch. He told her the inadequacies he felt, the impostor syndrome he felt at work, all of it. The anxiety he felt for the future and whether life would be what he wanted from it. She held each of his worries and fears in her hands like they were crystal glasses needing to be moved. She consoled him even though he was really over it. Assuaged him of all his worries and assured him that his life would be amazing simply because he was him. “Y’should have been a therapist, kitten,” he winked at her.

She smiled. “I’ve heard that before.”

She never reciprocated. There was a strength to her that waved off her. It was warm and everyone around her felt it. Her friends adored her, that much was obvious. But it was as if they were all so close to saying “we don’t need to worry about her.” She didn’t just console Harry. Everyone came to her for advice. The quiet lovely lady that worked in a dungeon and hid all of her thoughts and feelings. When they needed to vent, she was their phone call. Advice was her specialty. There was never judgment in her voice. No frustration or the feeling of pushing their worries aside. Every emotion her friends felt was valid and she would process and work through them as much as she possibly could.

When Harry was upset about a breakup—one that in hindsight he didn’t know why he even bothered—she didn’t make him feel bad that it had only been a short relationship. “Five months is a big deal,” she reminded him, placing a plate of his favorite tacos in front of him. It was her specialty. He wondered what came first, if she made tacos because she liked them or because he liked them. “You liked her a lot and five months is a big deal...it’s like a turning point. It was out of nowhere too. Anyone in their right mind would be upset,” she promised returning to the coffee table with her own plate. She sat on the floor across from him. He watched her eat a few bites wondering why on earth she was single for the umpteenth time.

“What’s your longest relationship?” He asked.

She snorted. “Um...a year, I think.”

“You think?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really date.”

The fact his heart cracked more at her words than the breakup he experienced the day before should have been his biggest clue that he was hopeless for the sweet girl.

“I noticed,” he smirked. “You’re too good for anyone, kitten,” he promised.

Her lips curled up in a half smile and she shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”

“S’okay, m’sure for you,” he winked making her laugh.

Harry didn’t date much after that either. Nothing serious; no more than a couple dates and setups from friends. Instead, he continued inviting her to family birthday parties and holidays where, naturally, everyone fell in love with her.

How could he blame his family and friends, really?

He was in the very same boat as them.

*

Gemma was having some minor trouble after delivering Harry’s sweet niece. The anxiety he felt was so overwhelming. His hands shook as his mum relayed the message. He stammered as he answered, dropped his keys. When he bent to retrieve them, her hand appeared in his vision, snatching them from the ground.

“No, I’ll drive,” she said firmly. Even if Harry wanted to argue he couldn’t.

She held Harry’s hand tightly on the middle console as she drove. Without any fanfare, she dropped him off in front of the main entrance and went off to find a parking spot. When he arrived in the waiting room, Anne was smiling as if there was no issue at all. “Wanna meet your niece?”

He did. Very badly. But his sister was his best friend. “What ‘bout Gemma?”

“She’s fine, Harry. Truly,” Anne assured him and rubbed his back.

They discussed the complications Gemma faced and all the worries Harry had for both her, Michal, and the sweet, adorable baby that was perfectly healthy and sleeping peacefully in the window alongside five or so other newborns.

They returned to the waiting room after Michal went back to the baby’s side. Anne squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly once more and within moments, she was there. “I left my welcome gift at home in the rush to get here,” she appeared with overpriced objects from the giftshop. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes a bit dazed, and Harry sensed she was overwhelmed but assumed it was because of the surprise arrival of Harry’s niece and nothing more.

His heart rate slowed at her appearance. Like she was physical assurance that things really would be okay. She smiled at him, sighed, and gave Anne a hug. “Congrats Grandma,” her voice was proud and excited.

Harry couldn’t have asked for a better day.

*

Harry was a natural with babies. He was so at ease holding the newborn in his arms. “Think she’ll have our smile?” Gemma asked, showing off the very expression. He could hardly tear his eyes away from the baby but nodded at his sister’s question.

“Yeah,” he sighed smiling gratefully at the little one in his arms. He didn’t want to put her down. If he ever had children of his own, he had no idea how he was going to share. He had no idea how Gemma managed to fork her over to him in the first place—when all he wanted was to hold her anyway.

“Where did she go?”

“M’not sure,” he admitted. “Add money to the car meter, I think,” he shrugged. “I was told not t’worry about her.”

“Naturally.”

Harry frowned, brushing his finger along the baby’s soft cheek. “S’that supposed t’mean?”

“She doesn’t let anyone worry about her,” Gemma shrugged. “It’s probably pretty traumatic for her to be here,” Gemma’s tone had an air that she was reminding Harry of something he was supposed to remember, some event that he didn’t know. But he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“What do y’mean?”

Gemma tilted her head and shifted slightly in her bed. Michal and Anne were getting food from the cafeteria. “Harry, her mom died here,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry’s stomach rolled and he thought about the anxiety he felt coming to the hospital on behalf of his sister. It was nothing in comparison to the anxiety she must have felt.

Harry finally looked up from the sweet little baby and gazed at his sister. “She’s never told me that.”

Gemma frowned and relayed the story. Told her something about last Christmas. She thought that Harry knew because they were best friends. But Harry didn’t. It was one of those things she kept to herself. Gemma found her in the kitchen while everyone else was drinking and chatting in the family room. She told Gemma she was grateful to be part of a big Christmas like this. It had been a long time. But it made her miss her mom more than ever.

Then Gemma relayed the time she watched her excuse herself at a family wedding while the groom and mother dance. “Her family doesn’t do big celebrations like us,” Gemma told her. “That girl carries a ton of grief on her back and she acts like it weighs as much as a feather. She never worries about herself only others but in a way that makes you feel that nothing bad will ever happen to you. I swear just thinking about her in the delivery room and how calm she would have been was enough to keep me relaxed,” Gemma laughed and shook her head. “I told her I didn’t expect her to come to the hospital when the time came if she didn’t want to. I would never blame her. She said it wouldn’t be a problem because you wouldn’t bring her—it was a family thing. Do you have any idea how wonderful she is or are we just going to sit here and pretend the love of your life isn’t your best friend?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond. His eyes no longer on the baby, but his sister. Unable to believe the words she said. The outline to what he already knew and felt but couldn’t believe any more if he tried because it seemed so unattainable. The girl who didn’t tell him anything. Or didn’t want to be worried over.

But he was interrupted. “Look how cute this is,” she burst into the room holding a onesie that said “if my mom says no, my uncle will say yes.”

It gave the three of them a pause as Gemma laughed and Harry snorted. “S’true,” he murmured quietly to the tiny being in his arms.

Their giggles were interrupted by an intercom announcement. A code purple and it asked that all visitors and personnel stay on their current floors. The smile slowly faded from her lips, and she glanced at the baby in Harry’s arms. “You look good with a baby,” she winked the smile gently returned. She gave his shoulder a squeeze, laid the onesie on the cot Michal would be sleeping in later. “M’gonna run to the bathroom,” she said.

Harry watched her leave, the first time he had looked at anyone other than the baby for longer than thirty seconds since he met the little one.

“Harry,” Gemma said gently. “You should follow her.”

“What? Why?”

“Do you know what a code purple is?” Harry shook his head. “Missing child.”

Harry looked at the baby again and sighed. “Well, if anyone will find her...”

“It would probably be Miss Wonder Woman herself, yeah?” Gemma finished Harry’s thought.

*

She couldn’t have gotten far if the stairwells and elevators were blocked off. He searched as much as the rest of the staff on the floor, sending his mum a text that everyone in their little family was fine. Fortunately (for Harry), there was a commotion with one of the patients on the floor and the person standing guard at the stairwell stepped away long enough for Harry to sneak to the next floor. Because he may have felt that she hid a lot from him at times, but he was certain if anyone was going to find a lost little girl, it was going to be her—even if he didn’t know why she wanted to find her.

The enormity of the steps muffled most of the sound, but Harry crept around the back of the stairwell, and found a little storage closet.

“It’s not fair!” It was a small, sad voice that Harry didn’t recognize.

“It’s not,” she agreed. Her voice even, sad in a different way, was one that Harry did recognize.

“Mommy says I have to be brave for my siblings and I’m trying but it’s not fair! I don’t even get to be sad,” she cried.

“I know,” she agreed again. Composed, like she was talking someone off a ledge. Maybe she was, Harry didn’t really know what was happening. But her understanding was tangible. Her soft voice made Harry feel so safe.

But it broke his heart right in half.

“It’s because I’m oldest. Mommy tells me that I’m being a big girl and being brave and helping Daddy get better but I’m not. I don’t want to be here, it’s not fair.”

“I know,” she repeated. “My mommy died when I was your age too. She was really sick. I had to take care of my little brothers and my daddy,” she explained. “It was really hard. I didn’t think I was allowed to cry because I was good at being brave.”

The answer was a sniffle, not words. Harry felt terrible for not knowing this. For never pressing. For finding out in a stairwell with a little girl that neither of them knew. “But do you know who is most worried about you right now while everyone else is worried about your daddy?”

“Who?” There was a big breath of silence. Something that Harry didn’t understand passed between them. Some sort of recognition of the situation they were both privy to and Harry was not. “Daddy doesn’t know I’m there.”

“He does, sweetie, I promise,” she assured her. “Let’s get you back to him.”

“I just want to cry,” she whispered.

“I know. You will. It’s good to cry. Brave even.”

“Mommy says I’m brave for not crying.”

There was a pause for a moment that Harry couldn’t describe. He couldn’t see his best friend nor the little girl that the entire hospital was searching for. But the grief and weight he felt in that little space was immense.

“Mommy will tell you you’re brave for crying too,” she promised. But it was filled with an emotion that Harry couldn’t quite name; but he was sure he sensed a bit of longing in her tone.

He watched her grab the little one’s hand. Like she was grabbing the hand of her younger self. Harry hoped it healed whatever that sense of longing was and whatever she remembered in that quiet pause.

When she turned and saw Harry waiting, her cheeks reddened. She looked away briefly. “Look who I found,” she smiled sweetly. Not a trace of sadness on her face, not even a tear.

Harry hoped she would cry later. Hoped she would tell him everything. He was aching for it. Aching to carry the metric ton of grief she held for so long.

“Made another friend?” Harry asked instead.

She squeezed the girl’s hand. “I think so.”

“You okay, love?” Truthfully, Harry wasn’t sure who he was asking.

The little girl sniffled, her eyes blotchy red and glassy. She looked up at Harry shyly but also with awe. “Are you a prince?”

Harry chuckled and she smiled—the exact reprieve anyone could have hoped for in that moment. “He is,” she smiled kindly. “You’ll find a best friend just like him too,” she promised.

*

Fortunately, Miss Wonder Woman coaxed the little one back onto the floor and with the commotion of her return, she and Harry snuck right back in. No one questioned them. He wondered if the little girl would even mention her to her mom or the staff. But she was unconcerned—glad the little girl was okay and safe.

“How did you know where she was?” He asked.

She didn’t say anything. Watched the reunion of her mom and her brothers. The sadness flowing through a whole family like a virus.

“Love,” he tried to gather her attention but was unsuccessful. They stood in the waiting room watching from afar. The whole hospital began its routine again.

She wasn’t recognized for finding the little girl.

“Kitten,” he cooed. “Talk to me.”

She sniffled, wiped below her eyes.

“Love,” he touched her arm. It broke something in her. Her lower lip wiggled as she fought back the emotions and tears that she felt bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

“Uh...sorry. I just couldn’t—” she cleared her throat and wiped below her eyes again.

“Love, you don’t—”

“Does Gemma need anything? I bet a code purple probably scared a first time—”

“Kitten.” Her shoulders heaved and she tried to continue talking, something about helping or understanding. Something about Gemma and Anne and Michal. “Angel, y’need t’stop,” he whispered quietly, as her sobs took over. Her hands covered her face and she turned toward him. Her body shaking and Harry wrapped her up in his arms. Held cupped the back of her head as she cried and he wanted it to stop. It hurt him so much to feel that pain through her. It wasn’t even his pain. He imagined all those moments in the last few years where she hid her own pain to take care of others.

“I couldn’t cry,” she croaked.

Harry didn’t want her to cry now but he was glad she was.

“I know, angel,” he didn’t. But he would pretend. Because she was there for every emotion that he had felt since he met her, and it never stopped her. She never made him feel bad for feeling any type of way. He would do anything to make her feel the same. “I know,” he sighed and squeezed her as tightly as he could worried he might hurt her but worried she would fully break apart if she didn’t.

*

Harry’s bed was her new favorite place. “I owe you some new pillowcases,” she whispered.

“Kitten, jus’ worry ‘bout yourself for a change,” he kissed her forehead, almost directly between her eyebrows. It made her feel like she was made of putty.

“I am, if I’m going to be sleeping here, I can’t get dirty from all my tears and snot.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get new pillowcases if y’sleep here.”

“You don’t mind?”

Did he mind her sleeping there? Or getting new pillowcases? “Neither, love,” his fingers trailed up and down her spine. “S’nice, yeah?”

She nodded. “Been thinking about it a while,” she whispered.

“Shoulda said something,” he hummed quietly. “Anything that’s mine, s’yours.”

“Anything?”

“Mhmm.”

“Even the secret chocolate stash you have in the oatmeal box?”

He chuckled. “All yours.”

“What about that candle in your kitchen that you light after you finish cleaning?”

“I’ll put your name on it.”

She was quiet for a minute. She inhaled the warm scent of his cologne poking at the freckles that dotted his collarbones and neck at sporadic intervals. Once the tears started, she couldn’t stop. Hence the need for new pillowcases. Her skin felt raw, blotchy, her head hurt a bit from the lack of water.

But Harry was there the whole time. He didn’t shy away once. Simply let her cry for all the times she didn’t because she needed to be brave and all the times she wanted to anyway. Eventually she whispered all the things she kept from him. From everyone. Even herself.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“Yes, kitten?”

“I know this is lame, but I didn’t date a whole lot growing up because I never felt like good things could happen to me. I always worried it would be taken away and... anyway... I don’t know how to ask this, because it sounds so lame but you’re my best friend so maybe you’ll know what I’m saying and—”

“I told y’anything that’s mine is yours, angel,” his smile was lazy but beautiful. Like this was the most normal thing he’d ever done with her. Everything about him was beautiful. From the surface of his skin to the depths of his soul.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that her best friend already knew what she wanted to say.

His lips brushed against her temple. Her heart finally felt at ease. “Course I want t’be your boyfriend. You have my whole heart.”

--

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[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 5

Summary: You and Andy have family fun

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit sexual content, explicit langauge, unprotected sex, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, PIV sex, mentions of infidelity, depictions of an allergic reaction, baby Suede 🥺18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

“Stop,” you giggle, trying to push Andy off your back by bumping him with your ass. He likes this way too much to ever stop, and you don’t actually want him to. His mouth permanently plants on your neck as you mix up some chicken salad.

“Andy,” you can’t help but squeal. Knowing that you have things that you need to do, but he feels so good. Too good. His lips know exactly what to touch on your body, and judging by the heat radiating from his crotch to your ass, you know he’s wanting to break the bed in.

“First lunch,” it’s such a weak boundary that you’re willing to fold on.

“The only thing I want to eat is you,” his voice is so hoarse as his hips roll into you, and you feel his hardening length. Dizzying your mind immediately. Those meaty hands knead on your breasts, and you back yourself more into him. You need more. You need all of him, “See, who needs lunch?”

“Mmm,” you groan, closing your eyes as you just focus on Andy and his ministrations. Now he is the only reason you haven’t spent your weekend pacing around the house, staring at your phone, wishing that Scott would at least read that you asked him to let the kids call you this morning. Now it’s after lunch and you still haven’t got to hear their voice, or see their giggling faces.

“Andy,” you’re so weak when it comes to him, but at least the feeling is mutual. The spoon drops into the bowl, and your hand grabs his cheek, pulling him to your mouth, closer to where you need him, and you melt into him. Pushing your ass into his engorged pants, and arching your back so you can gain better access, you preen at just how hard he is for you. You need him ways you have never needed someone before.

The wait and journey were worth it, and now you didn’t feel rushed, you wanted him to fully take his time. His tongue rubs over your lips, and you part them the same way your legs part. Andy makes quick work of your button before plunging his hand down the front, and right to your core. His fingers gather your slick, and then move back to your bundle of nerves. He creates the slowest circles with not enough pressure, and you whine.

“You’re so wet for me, Doe. So very wet. How about we put this in the fridge, and then…” his movements pause, and your eyes go wider. You get a sweet smile before he’s pulling his hand out of your pants, and you spring to your bedroom. You didn’t even pause. The new bed, and bedding just feels better, and didn’t cause that awful memory to imprint in your mind. Andy hadn’t been defiled by your disgusting husband; he is still here, and ready for a life with your and your babies.

The bed hasn’t even been defiled by your boyfriend — yet. It feels good to say your boyfriend. You nearly slide into your bed as you reach for your phone, you click it on, and say hey still breathless as your beautiful babies’ faces come onto the screen.

“Hi, mama!” Suede squeals, trying to lean more into the screen. “Mama, hi!”

“Hi, Suedey, give sissy some room, too. What are you guys doing?” Audrey’s eyes look beyond the phone. You assume she’s looking up at her dad as she smiles up at him. Despite it all, you’re glad that she’s continued to have a relationship with Scott.

“Daddy and Taylor are taking us to soft play!” You hope that Scott realizes just how happy she sounds and looks. Even the bright smile on Suede’s face makes you feel more at ease. If only Scott could hold those memories in his mind, so when they ask to play with him, he understands the joy it brings.

“Chess! Me pay!”

“And daddy said he’s going to get on the trampoline with us,” both kids are smiling ear to ear, and looking beyond the phone. You miss them, but when they look at ease and this happy, it helps.

“Daddy jump! Chess!” He throws his hands up into the air, and you sigh in relief as he looks up and behind the screen again, holding his fist up for a bump. “Aye!”

“Yay!” Scott repeats. You hope that he can see how much they enjoy playing, and how much more special it is to play with their parents. Especially with Suede. Him and Scott have such a strained relationship, and he was a baby. Your children just want to make Scott happy and proud, and you think there’s a part of him that often forgets that, and it’s no longer your responsibility to remind him. He chose this path, not you.

“Na Na at?” Suede puts on a serious face, and he gives a growl. “Mama, Na Na at?”

You’re leaning over onto the bed, laying on your belly, and Andy’s fingers graze up the backs of your thighs, before gripping tightly to your ass, and he leans into frame, the kids none the wiser of how Andy’s hard cock is settled on your back, “Na Na! Me pay!”

“I hope you have so much fun, too,” Andy is such a turd, keeping his hand groping your thighs, and trying to inch back to the unbuttoned jeans, but him being so sweet to the two little on the phone is confusing your brain. “You gotta see if you can jump higher than your dad.”

“Me tan! Ump high!”

Audrey is too busy paying attention to her dad, smiling up at him to be fully involved with the conversation. She misses him so much. They had a sweet bond sometimes. Even if her dad pushed her academically, he also made time to play with her. “Alright, tell your mom bye,” of course he wouldn’t acknowledge Andy’s presence. Just for that comment, Andy’s hand moves from your thigh to in between your cheeks, and under you, cupping your throbbing cunt. And his face is the picture of innocence.

“Mama bye! Na Na bye! Ove ooo!”

“Love you, Suedey. Bye, sissy. Have fun today, and watch bubba.”

“Okay, mommy. I love you,” and with that, Scott’s finger comes into view as he clicks the end button too quickly, and you just stare at where their smiling faces once were. You suppose Scott didn’t want to hear if Andy loved his kids or not. You’re at least happy that Suede wasn’t crying, and that Audrey is being her smiling self. It hurts when they’re away, but them having fun makes it more bearable.

Andy grabs the phone out of your hand, and flips your body over, having you lay on your back before he sinks to his knees. Carefully removing each sock, “I think you need to take a day off and get a pedicure,” you roll your eyes, but his hands slide up your legs, and up to your hips where he starts tugging at your still undone jeans.

“I’m serious,” he whispers, kissing over your panties. Starting at the elastic before dipping lower, and lower. He didn’t pull the pants low enough, so you can’t even spread your legs further, and give him access to where you want him, “Why so needy, honey?”

His voice is like silk as it rumbles right at the start of your split. “Mmm,” you whine more than moan. Trying to tug your jeans down, and then your panties. You want him and need him over every inch of you.

He chuckles, jerking your jeans completely down, and you tug on your panties. “Uh uh,” he tsks, removing your hands, and pinning them to the sides of your body. And when you whine, he smacks at your quivering cunt.

“Andy!”

“Can you just let me enjoy myself?” You start to protest, but he flattens his tongue, and licks up your entire covered slit, and you want to drool. The way he’s obsessed with you, and making out with a different set of lips. Licking, nibbling, kissing, devouring. Close, but not close enough. Where you want him, but not how you want him. Your lace panties are ruined. Soaked through and you don’t know if it’s your juices or Andy’s, and it’s probably both.

He moans like he is eating a delectable dessert. Laving up every bit of your honey, and you’re so into this moment. Forgetting where you are, and just feeling him. And when he slips the thin material to the side, he smiles up at your wrecked face before gorging himself on your slick. Stabbing two thick fingers into your hole while he sucks on your clit. In and out. In and out. He makes excellent work on two forms of stimulation.

Andy then presses on your stomach, adding a bit more pressure there, and it’s as if he opened nerve endings you didn’t know existed. Everything becomes more sensitive, like you can feel every bit of his calloused fingers, and exactly what part of your pillowy walls they’re touching. Curling his fingers, he drives harder into you, and you scream his name up at the ceiling like a prayer, mixing in non-words to emphasize the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Asking for him to have mercy on you as a deep rooted coil twists tight in your belly. A feeling you’re familiar with, but then it’s so much more prominent. It’s toe curling. It’s out of body. It’s a high you could become addicted to.

You try to lift off the bed, and can’t, he presses down harder, and with this odd amount of pressure, things build. Build. Harder. Tighter. Heating up. You whimper out his name in a long laborious moan, and your dam breaks. Juices spray over Andy’s face and down his shirt, and his movements slow.

Going slower each second as he coaxes you down from your high, and he leans back on his ankles, panting, and smiling at you. His chest heaves right along with yours, and you sit up on your elbows, smiling at him. “What was that?”

“Well,” he licks his lips, and you look down at his soaked shirt. If you didn’t remember what his shirt looked like beforehand, you would wonder how the cotton became drenched, ��You learned a new trick.”

“No,” you giggle, watching as he removes his ruined shirt. You’ve never been a woman obsessed with tits, but his are massive. So pillowy and still hard. Still so scrumptious, and you just find yourself wanting to bite and bury your face in his titties, or at least squeeze, bite, kiss, lick, or touch them. Whichever came first. “I can’t squirt.”

“You couldn’t before, but now, clearly you can, and it was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen. Maybe nobody has ever made you come so hard, and that was only with my fingers and mouth,” he stands up with his devilish smirk, yanking his pants and boxers down in one go, and his cock flares up to life. Bouncing to attention, and shining with beads of precum, and you’re so thankful you can’t get pregnant because you want nothing to separate you from Andy. As he steps out of his pants, you pull off your shirt, and it’s as if something smacks you in the gut.

You go blank as a quick flash of Taylor riding Scott jumps into your mind. Your body freezes, and you stare at nothing. You’re numb, and falling. It’s like a black hole sucks you up when you realize where you are. And then a pair of beautiful blue eyes breaks into your darkness. “Only look at me, Doe. Stay with me.”

Andy crawls onto the bed, using his thick stature to keep you spread. His throbbing cock runs through your slick and smears his precum through your opening. “Are you with me, honey?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me?”

“Like I’ve never wanted anything before,” slowly he inches into your body. Hooking his hands behind your knees he lifts up your legs. Making them follow his descent into your warmth. He pushes them wide, and makes your head and legs go in ‘the same direction. Keeping you spread and at an angle that he can bury himself to the hilt. Not stopping until the spongy tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you sigh.

“Andy, I love you, but I’m ruined,” he deserves someone better than you. Someone that didn’t have all this baggage, and an impending divorce on the horizon.

“I know. You’re ruined by me. But you, my beautiful sweet little deer, are not ruined. You’re perfect. I don’t care if you have your moments. Just keep your eyes on me. It’s just us, okay?” You nod your head, breathlessly trying to stay with him. As he slowly rolls his hips into your body. “Give me a good reason. Just one good reason.”

You gulp, “Because it’s always been you,” Andy draws himself out of you, and pushes back through slowly, and you feel that thick vein drag through your weeping cunt. You feel every inch of him. “It was only ever you,” your eyes stay locked on him. Only on him. You didn’t even know where you were, you just know you are with him. Only him. Nothing else matters but the way that Andy has you fully filled.

All you have ever wanted were moments with him. Adult moments that you two only ever talked and teased about. The two of you connect as one with no barriers, just like now. Wet hot skin on wet hot skin. The way he would enjoy filling you up with his seed, and then his child. The way you thought up names for your unborn children. All of this was supposed to be for him, and now you can’t give it to him. Except the one thing he really wants.

“We’re not in a rush,” he assures you, his pace starting to pick up. Each thrust met with a grunt from his voice, “And we’re already a family,” tears fill your lash line. You didn’t know how this man could be so perfect, but it wasn’t the same. “We’ll adopt. Or have a surrogate,” you keep looking into his eyes so full of sincerity. You’ve never wanted intense eye connect with anyone during sex, except Andy. You would bare your soul for him, “Or we could get lucky.”

Smirking, he rolls the two of you over without leaving your warmth, keeping you on top. He pulls your hands to his chest, and he grips onto your hips so tightly. His eyes gaze upon you like you’re the most perfect thing in the world. Like you’re a goddess that is so precious to him. You move over him once.

“Use me, Doe. I am here for you to use. Take out your anger and frustrations on my body. Enjoy yourself. Claim it back,” with every word he says up to you, you move faster. Harder. A grind turns into bounces. “There she is. You feel so good. I love you, and we’ll do what we have to. But I’m yours. All of me is yours, and it always was.”

You ride on top of him so fast, and still hold his stare. He meant it. Meant every word. And you need to hold them inside of you, and want to protect those promises. Scott might have dragged you down little by little, but he didn’t destroy you. Your babies didn’t allow him. “I’m. All. Yours,” he repeats as you slam your body over his, over and over again. Sucking him in so deep that you see stars.

Andy’s voice is pained as he tries to stave off his orgasm. “Let go, baby. Let go for me. Let me feel your body surge around me, so I know that you are mine. Every inch of you is mine. You belong to me,” and everything tumbles down to the ground. He didn’t take down your walls brick by brick, he sent in a wrecking ball and destroyed them. Obliterated anything that separates you and him. Perfectly at the same time, euphoria cocoons the two of you in a matrimony of pleasure and the sweetest sin, and you sigh as Andy’s hot cream coats the inside of you.

You will never get tired of this feeling. The way his sticky heat fills every inch of you, and you hope one day, any day could connect the two of you together with Andy’s flesh and blood. You want to give that to him so badly. It’s what he deserves. He pulls you into his chest as he peppers kisses over your lips.

“We wasted so much time not doing this before.”

“We were too young, and we were terrified of getting pregnant before you finished law school,” while the sex is amazing, there’s something almost sweet about him softening in you, and dripping out of you. “I saw on the internet there’s these blankets that are waterproof. You just lay them over your bed, and your bedding doesn’t get, well, you know — wet.”

“Filthy and drenched in your squirt.”

“Stop! I did not squirt.”

“You most certainly did, and I drank it all up. We’ll get you your fancy blanket,” he stares at you a moment, no words between you, just putting this moment into his core memories. “Doe, hypothetically speaking, our plan was never to have you working,” leave it to Andy to bring into question your job.

“Our plan didn’t involve me in paying for a divorce, and no, I will not allow you to pay for it. This is something I need to do on my own.”

“But,” you push a finger up against his mouth, silencing him.

“I need to do this,” Scott is your problem. You loved Andy for giving you the support that you desperately need, but you also need to handle your shit.

“But you could be at home with Suede.”

“Don’t tease me! Yes, I would love to be at home with my baby, but this is my problem, and I need to resolve it, and then we’ll talk about everything else.”

“Give him the house,” you roll your eyes, starting to look away, but he squeezes your cheeks with his fingers and thumb, making you look at him, “It can take awhile to find one. We’ll casually be looking for our home. But he can have this house. Not have him move in it now, you need it for the kids. But you heard what I said, I won’t be living here, and I won’t be living without you. Now, say, ‘Okay, Andy,’” you start to giggle, and he stifles his own laughter, “No, say it.”

“Okay, Andy. And in the meantime,” he gives you every bit of attention that you have longed for in years. Nothing else matters but you. “I think — you should — start staying some nights here.”

“You’re sure?” This is a huge step in general, but when you have children, and this is their space, it’s different. This is their space, their home. And you can’t make them feel uncomfortable.

“Or every night,” you can’t look away from him if you wanted to. You’ve never lived with Andy, and this is what you’re suggesting. You have a deep desire to beg him to move in. You didn’t want to spend a single second without him, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“You’re the one that needs to be comfortable. This is yours and the kids' home,” and you understand that. You just want him ot be part of the equation.

“I know. They already want slumber parties with you. There’s empty space in the closet,” you hadn’t bothered with expanding your own clothes. Spreading everything out wide, and having the closet all to yourself.

“What are you suggesting?”

“If we’re going to be buying a house, we could save money if you sold the condo,” Andy nods. Things right now are more talk, but he knows Scott could have stipulations on you while you’re going through a divorce. And part of those stipulations could be where Andy lives. He’d make something up about someone not being able to officially move in with you. But six out of seven days isn’t fully living here.

You hum as a sleeping Andy pulls you closer to his front, his own taut body curling into yours in the perfect spoon. You’d been awake for a bit, but wanted to just soak him up this morning, knowing the kids are snuggled up in their beds, unaware that Andy had stayed the night. You worry how they’re going to react to seeing another man in the bedroom, even if they were excited about the new bed.

His soft beard tickles on your neck as he inhales, and you can’t help but to trace the vein on his arm. You could get used to this too easily. It’s so perfect. So comfortable and cozy, and today is going to be a perfect day. It is your weekend, and it is a beautiful fall day to spend with your family. Yes, Andy is part of that family, and if your kids didn’t adore him as much as they did, you might think twice about him staying until they wake up.

His lips pucker against your skin, and his breathing changes. Silly man, he is kissing you in his partial sleep addled state. You wonder how light of a sleeper he is now because you already hear the door to Suede’s room crack open. Can hear his heavy footfalls as he goes to see if his sissy is awake. There’s only minutes from him going in there until they’re padding down the stairs. Suede scooting more than anything.

Slowly they creep into the living room, and you hear Suede gasp, “Mama at?” His voice hurts you a bit because he sounds concerned. He’d become too accustomed to you sleeping on the couch.

“She wouldn’t leave us,” Audrey breathes in deeply, sniffing the air, “She’s not cooking.”

“Bed?”

“You go check.”

“Ooo.”

“I think you should,” they go back and forth a few times, and Andy kisses the back of your neck for real this time. It is a little bit groggy, but he does it.

“You are scaring them. Just say their names.”

“Shh,” you want them to genuinely just spot Andy when they come through the door. It wouldn’t be too much longer now. Their footfalls get louder, and then the sweetest mama whispers off Suede’s mouth the same time as the door starts opening, and his head peeks through first with Audrey shortly after.

“Mama?” The question on his voice is easy to infer. Easy enough for Andy to sit up so Suede can see his face, and he giggles, dashing to the bed along with Audrey. They’re both so fast, and then pulling their bodies onto the bed, and looking at the two of you. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to the pumpkin patch today.”

“Aye!”

“And we’re going right after breakfast,” Andy responds. You look at both kids and realize that you’re all smiling, including Andy. “So we should get started right now!” He sits fully upright so quickly that you all three start laughing. “Doe, you want to pack us some snacks for the day, and then I’ll make some breakfast?”

The amount of times that you realize how much more superior he is over Scott is too many to count, sometimes you wonder if this is just a dream. A figment of your imagination that you made up, so being alone wasn’t so hard.

But now, you’re going to be able to accomplish tasks so much faster because he is willing to help. He wants to get things going at the same time so it didn’t take as long. You didn’t have to be in a foul mood already because he wants to sit on the couch and watch the game. He is truly a part of the day in every sense.

“I’ll pack snacks. Let’s see what you got for breakfast.”

—

“Mommy,” Audrey gives a whisper as she tiptoes into your bedroom. You have just finished pulling on your boots. She gives a quick spin, “I really like this,” smoothing out her dress. She walks over beside you wrapping an arm around your leg, “Can we wear kinda matching clothes more often?”

“Of course sweetheart. Are you ready?” She twirls again before following you out of the bedroom, and your heart swoons at Suede in Andy’s lap. Both laid back watching Bluey, and Suede’s hand is petting on Andy’s beard. Andy in suits is hot. But Andy in flannels with your baby boy in his lap is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever laid eyes on.

“Yes! We’re ready, and look at you two, you match,” he scoots his body towards the edge of the couch, allowing Suede to get down, and he makes a sound you hadn’t really heard before, and then he walks out of the living room and towards the playroom. “I’ll have two beautiful girls with me today.”

“Ouch!” You turn around to see Suede stomping his foot, a toy falling behind Audrey, “Suedey that hurt!”

“Suede Theodore Huffman, you apologize to your sister right now,” Audrey tries to hold back tears as she kicks the block away, and rubs the back of her head. “We don’t throw things.”

“Me, too!” He screeches, tapping on his chest. “Me, too!”

“Audrey doesn’t have to say sorry, you do,” Suede normally is the average two year old. And then sometimes he has fits that typically included him not being able to tell anyways what he really needs.

“No no! Me, too!” His foot stomps again, looking at Andy. “Me, too, Na Na!” He smacks on his chest repeating his words over and over again, becoming more frustrated when you don’t understand. “Na Na! Me! Pease!”

Suede’s cheeks turn blotchy as tears stream down his face. “Bubba, it’s okay, I guess,” now Audrey is the one slamming herself down on the couch, and crossing her arms pouting. These moments are the ones you fear will cause Andy to rethink this relationship. Children are little people with emotions too big for their bodies, and things like this happen. And sometimes they happen often.

“Mama, me, too. Na Na!” You turn back to look at Andy, apologizing. He had been rubbing on the back of Audrey’s head where the block hit her. “Na Na! Me!” Your attention is back to Suede who gets that awful sound in his throat. This didn’t happen often, but during a few times when his frustration of having to vocalize something in so few words makes him so upset his breathing stops, and the crying takes over.

Dropping to your knees, you calmly kneel in front of your son. Trying to gently persuade him to breathe, so you don’t panic, “Suede, look at mommy. I need you to breathe,” it’s staggered and painful, but the screaming stops, but not he’s still unable to catch his breath.

Holding his hand you put it over your mouth. Inhaling and exhaling slowly. Methodically, “Buddy, breathe, we’ll figure it out,” his chest heaves, and he watches as Audrey runs into the kitchen. “Eyes on mommy, buddy.”

“Suede, breathe, and then you can tell us what’s wrong,” Andy squats down beside you, getting on Suede’s level instead of towering over him. Making him feel comfortable instead of making him feel fear for nothing being able to communicate. Becoming a safe space of communication instead of Scott’s screams that prolong the ordeal.

“Here, bubba,” Audrey hands him an applesauce pouch. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me,” she’s too kind, and he still will apologize once he’s calm.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Suede points at his pumpkin shirt, and then at Andy’s. Babbling as he points at you and Audrey, but always ending with his chest and Andy’s, repeating ‘Me, too.’

“Na Na.”

“Andy?” He asks, and Suede nods his head. A smile tickles the edges of his mouth when he realizes that Andy is following along.

“Me — too,” Suede exhales so slow. It’s long and drawn out, but it helps him regulate the oxygen to his lungs.

“So,” Andy looks at you and Audrey. His eyes looking over your outfits before back to Suede, “Are you upset that you don’t match mommy and Audrey?” Suede shakes his head no, tapping on Andy’s chest, and repeating Na Na. You pout, knowing exactly what he’s trying to convey.

Andy smiles and nods his head, “Are you wanting to match with me?”

“Chess!” Suede starts wiping at his eyes, and then rubs over Andy’s flannel. “Dis. Ike dis.”

“You like this? Well, does he have flannel?” If you weren’t doing a hands off policy with Andy, you’d kiss him right now. That was one of the shortest temper tantrums with Suede ever. Obviously it was the first with Andy. Again little bodies and big emotions. “First, I think you need to tell your sissy you’re sorry. And next time, maybe we can talk before you throw things?”

“Tay,” Suede walks to Audrey, and gives her a big hug. The two of them giggle a bit, “Ree.”

“Okay, go find your shirt so we get good pumpkins for the stairs,” Suede grabs onto Andy’s hand, pulling him towards the stairs, and Andy picks him up. Carrying him up the stairs to rummage through his clothes. It was a moment that could have been avoided, and yet you still feel some butterflies that your son wants to dress like Andy. Wants to match him like you and Audrey match.

You just have never thought about buying matching outfits for him because Scott never would wear that. He preferred to pick out his own clothes, and didn’t want to look cutesy. “Auds, you want an applesauce pack, too?”

“Yes, please. Do I need to help with the car?”

You can see that she’s buzzing with excitement about Suede getting to dress like Andy. His flannel pairing nicely with yours and Audrey’s outfit. “No, baby. Here you go. I’m going to put the stroller, and stuff in the car, okay?” She blows you a kiss before heading up the stairs to babysit, of course.

With there being a lot of walking, you take the double stroller in case Audrey gets tired of walking. Carrying the bag of snacks and drinks to the garage, you smile a bit at Andy’s Audi beside your mom car. While this might not be your home with him, it’s the little things of your car and his being next to each other in the garage that make you happy. It’s the big things like Andy being the one to figure out Suede’s tantrum. And the sexy things like him being a good dad and keeping Suede busy while you got ready.

It’s the way that the three of them walk into the garage. Audrey holding his hand, and Andy holding Suede. They weren’t identical, but close enough to make your baby have the biggest proudest smile on his face. The way he looks even sexier as a dad. You bite your lip as Andy hands you Suede. He leans in for a kiss behind your ear, “You’re drooling.”

Oh, he’s walking with a bit more of a swagger than before. The flannel somehow emphasizes his shapely tits that you can't get enough of. He smirks, walking past you to open the door for Audrey. Helping her get in, and you have to contain yourself enough to get your toddler in his own seat. “You look handsome, bubs. You want to dress like Andy?”

“Chess!” Blowing raspberries on his neck, you place him into his seat. “My Na Na,” oh. Oh, that hits you hard. It’s not just you falling for Andy, it’s also them. They’re falling just as hard as you. The comfort, and the lack of weirdness today. You can never be sure how children will react to change in their home. And everyday is going to be different, but today has started off so good. The tantrum wasn’t great. But the result couldn’t have been better. Especially seeing Andy and Suede dress similarly.

Suede blinks hard over at Andy, and Andy winks back before closing the door. Both of you get in together, and just so there’s not any weirdness, you wait until he backs out of the garage, and gets turned around, and you settle your hand into his. Weaving your fingers together, and Audrey giggles, but Suede beams up at you and Andy.

“So which cheesy 80s music are we listening to today?”

“No! Play Taylor Swift!”

“Tip Tip.”

“No! I don’t want to listen to Tapleton. Play Taylor!” Andy smiles in the rear view mirror before turning on some AC/DC. It isn’t what either wanted, but Suede taps his foot along with it. “After this can you put on Tapleton for Suedey, and then a Taylor song for me, please?”

“Yes, since you asked nicely, and wanted to share, Chris Stapleton is next, and then Taylor,” you settle into the ease of the ride. You didn’t care what they listened to. It is the fact that everyone is happy and together. Stealing a glance at Andy, he squeezes your hand a bit. Today is going to be a good day.

“Andy! What about this one?” Suede grunts, trying to pick up a large pumpkin, while Audrey points at the pumpkin in question. “It’s kinda blue!” They have spent the better half of the afternoon picking out pumpkins, and trying to get Andy’s attention more than yours. Running up ahead of you and Andy, just to stop and make sure you’re both paying attention.

You had caught Andy’s prideful smile as the employee helping you on the hayride commented on his beautiful family. He smiled so big as he thanked him, and then clamored behind you and Audrey. Suede rarely left Andy’s arms, or lap, or hand. He has found him his buddy, and he clings to him constantly.

There’s a tiny part of you that is ridiculously jealous, but another part that loves that he has someone that Suede feels comfortable with. Someone he’s proud of. A man that he has chosen, too. “Can we have this one on the steps?”

“Chess. Ugh…big!” Suede stops trying to pick the pumpkin up, but points at it, until Andy leans over to grab it. You get a cheeky look at his scrumptious rump, and Suede keeps a hand on the pumpkin, ‘helping’ of course.

“Don’t ever stop checking me out, Doe,” he whispers, putting the pumpkin in the wheelbarrow. He drives you crazy with his whispers. These private flirty conversations with just him drives you wild!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” how has life turned so happy? There’s an intensity, but it’s not tense. You keep calling it easy, but even that doesn’t fully explain everything. Comfort. Joyful. Cute. Hot. Sexy.

“Did you know you do this clicking noise with your tongue when you’re thinking about what you want to do to me?” the kids have already run off again, and you can look at them as an excuse not to stare at your beyond sexy boyfriend. “They have three more pumpkins to pick, and then we get to decorate the stairs for fall. Tell me you weren’t checking me out.”

“I shouldn’t lie.”

“You’ll admit that, but not that you make a noise? It must be involuntary then, hmm? It’s kinda hot though, so don’t stop. I love knowing I turn you on,” he steals a kiss before returning to the wheelbarrow, but first he pulls up his flannel shirt to give you a better view of his ass before following the kids. He’s in a flirty and cheeky mood today, and you’re loving it.

The both of you decided to let the kids guide the way in the corn maze. You and Andy stay behind as their giggling little voices trail ahead, discussing which way they’re going to turn. “I really like today,” Andy says out of nowhere. His eyes have stayed on them just as much as your own, and the way that he hasn’t hesitated to hold onto your hand.

“I’ve always wanted these moments with you, ya know?” Audrey and Suede stop at a crossroads, trying to figure out which way to go, and Andy pulls you in for a hug, and a quick peck. Releasing you before they make the decision. “It’s so simple, but these moments are just — the best. Can we make this a tradition? Pumpkin patch on the second weekend in September?”

“I love that idea. And,” you start walking once they’ve decided the direction they want to go. “I always wanted these moments, and I think I lied to myself in thinking that anyone could have replaced you.”

Andy sighs, squeezing your hand a few pulses. “Because I know how much you enjoy this, and want this, and you’re going to treasure these moments just as much as I do. So thank you. Their dad never did things like this with us. If we did this, it was just me and them. I think Scott just wants to do what he wants to do, when he wants to do it.”

“Daddy!” You and Andy both start walking faster as Audrey turns a corner, but Suede comes running back to you, holding his hands up for Andy to pick him up. Andy scoops him up right as you hear Taylor’s obnoxious cheery squeal.

“Oh, great,” groaning, you decide to be cordial. They’ve already spotted Audrey, so it’s not like you can hide. “Hey, Scott. Taylor,” you nod. With Scott holding Audrey, you see Taylor put her phone back in her pocket, a photo clearly just being taken. No doubt she’ll add some stupid caption on her Instagram, pretending to be the perfect step mom.

“Took you long enough to check on our daughter,” he emphasizes ‘our’ when he sees Andy holding Suede. “What are you doing here?” The bigger question is why is he here with Taylor, and wouldn’t be caught dead here with your and your children.

“I thought that the kids would like to enjoy some fall activities,” if Scott knew anything about Andy, he’d know how clipped his words seem, and just how irritated he sounds. “Tell your dad how many pumpkins you picked out,” Suede’s head picks up from Andy’s chest, and he holds both hands up.

“Ten pumpkins, huh? Wow. If you want, Scott and I can take the kids, and you and — whoever this is can have some time alone,” Taylor’s smile is sickeningly sweet. You want to like her, but the image of her disrespecting your marriage can never be forgiven, even if it was an already ruined marriage.

“Oh, no, they’re fine. We haven’t even got to see the kids’ play area,” some people didn’t understand you could have fun with Andy and the children. Knowing Scott as soon as he got a free moment without kids, he’d sneak her off somewhere to get in a quickie.

“Oh, it’ll be nothing. Suedey, you want me to hold you?”

“No,” Suede lays his head back on Andy’s chest, and you almost feel sorry for Taylor. Almost. She’s trying to win against you, and now Andy. She might be able talk Audrey into walking around with them, but never your son.

“Baby, it’s fine. They don’t need help with the kids,” vomit. Baby. You wonder if he realizes how gross it sounds to be calling this twenty-three year old baby, when he’s twenty years older than her. She’s literally young enough to be his baby. This relationship shouldn’t have moved past sex.

“I think they need to babysit their mom and Andy anyways, huh, Barber?” Ugh, Scott is such a pig. Everything has to be about sex. One day he would realize you and him have built a relationship that extends past the physical parts.

“You two know each other?” She’s fucking clueless. Of course she is, she could barely understand the nuances between you and Scott.

“Barber here is the DA.”

“What’s a DA?” You look at Scott instead of her. How could he not truly explain his career with his fiance? She truly is a clueless ditz.

“District attorney,” Audrey giggles. She does a little dance in between the four of you, oblivious to an odd pisisng contest between Andy and Scott.

“Oh, so you’re like a lawyer?”

Andy’s grin is so condescending as he looks at Scott, his brows raised a bit. Her age shows with more than just her looks, “Yeah, I’m the chief prosecuting officer. I’ve been in court against Scott a few times.”

“So you’re like the bad guy?” Scott presses his hand on his temple in annoyance, and Andy just shrugs. You hope he enjoys every stupid conversation with her.

“Depends on who you think the good guy is.”

“Andy wants to become a judge,” Audrey adds. Smiling up at Andy as she does so. She lifts her hands up to you, and you pull her up in your arms, even though Scott clears his throat. You dare him to tell you not to hold her, ‘she’s too big to be held.’ She’ll be held if that’s what she wants.

“The man with a hammer! That’s really neat,” neat? This girl was meant to only be a babysitter. You seriously question the fact that Scott has this woman helping him on his weekends. Who is having questions that a child would be asking.

Audrey giggles again, “It’s not a hammer, silly goose, it’s called a gravel.”

“Gavel,” Scott can correct his daughter, but not his grown fiancé, “Baby,” Scott clears his throat again, leaving Taylor to smile awkwardly at him. I guess he found a woman that will pick up on his clues for behaving, unlike you… “It’s their — her weekend to have the kids. And how and who she chooses to spend her weekend with at this time is her prerogative.”

“Andy has been the only person sharing our weekends with us. But you two have a great time. I’m sure you’ll get lots of photo opportunities for instagram,” her genuine smile makes you feel bad for making fun of her interest in posting aesthetically pleasing photos. She’s young, that should be what she’s doing. Not becoming a stepmom. And yet your care also just wasn’t there.

“I know! They have these amazing caramel apples. Want to see my pictures? Oh!! The kids will love them. They have some with pecans and chocolate, and one with walnuts and…”

“Suede can’t have walnuts,” Audrey interjects. Frowning as she looks at her. “He could die!”

“Oh, that’s right. Little nugget. No matter. The food they have here is amazing!”

“She usually packs Suede lunch. He has to miss out on food at places like this a lot,” yeah. That’s your cue to leave. If Scott wants to point out Suede’s differences and how he might not get to experience things like others, you didn’t have to listen to it. Suede’s lunches were a just in case type of thing, and you always made them fun for him!

“Well, you two have fun. Tell daddy ‘bye’, guys,” Audrey responds quickly, blowing him a kiss, but Suede won’t look at him. “Suede, tell daddy, bye. We’re going to go to the kids’ playground, and you and Audrey can run around until it's time to eat!”

“Bye, daddy,” Suede doesn’t lift his head, and barely even looks at Scott, but he waves his hand, and drops it back to Andy’s chest. His fingers gripping onto his shirt, like if he lets go that Scott can pull him off Andy. Now to grab the stroller again, and let the kids get out some energy. You try to not see Taylor as much as possible, and this is the reason why. She infuriates you.

—

“How are you feeling?” You and Andy sit at the picnic tables, while the kids play. You squint in the sunlight, keeping your eyes on them, when you really wish you could give Andy your undivided attention.

“I’m fine. I just hate that he doesn’t see how controlling he is. How he doesn’t see that he is just using Taylor as a way to make himself feel more like ‘the man’. She’s easy to control because he’s significantly smarter, and experienced in life. And he makes the money, so she shuts up and deals with it, until she’s tired of his tyranny, and most likely move onto a man that won’t have to pay child support and alimony.”

“You got all that with the interaction, too?” Peeking over towards Andy, you nod your head. “Does he really think she can be a safe option for your kids? She couldn’t even remember Suede is allergic to walnuts?”

“And she shouldn’t have to, and yet, here we are. The only thing I blame Taylor for, is the fact she was well aware that we were married. She babysat them while we went on dates. I think they both suck for that. But,” you turn your eyes away from them as you smile up at Andy. “I should thank them. We’d been in Newton for a few years now, and you were always right there. Had I met you before now, I might have been the one cheating. No, I definitely would have,” Andy leans in for a chaste kiss.

Your hand rubs up his chest, holding the kiss a few moments longer. The disintegration of your marriage is so layered. What killed you that day is the one thing that set you free. But admitting that had you known Andy was right here, you would have been the one cheating is liberating. He was always the one, and always worth it.

You revel in this moment of comfort. Hearing the sounds of kids playing in the early fall weather. It’s just happiness. Pulling off Andy, you gaze up at the most amazing man you have ever known, and know that there’s no way to explain just how much he means to you.

And of course happy moments have been short lived for some time. Suede’s blood curdling scream hits you first, and you jump up. Scanning the play area when you see his feet stomping around. Holding out his hand, while Audrey swats at something. Andy and you sprint over towards him, and you know something is worse when his cries change. It’s a sound you have never been able to get out of the depths of the darkest places in your mind.

“Andy, my bag. Get it fast,” tears blur your eyes, but you’re on autopilot going over to him. Picking up both kids and getting away from a swarm of yellow jackets, and you set both down, kneeling on the ground. Suede’s breathing labored, and his cries are completely gone as he struggles for air.

His mouth opens and closes, and no sound comes out of him. His airways cut off, while tears pour from his bloodshot eyes. Your sweet angelic baby turning into a nightmare before your eyes. Visions like these haunt you. Your worst fears materializing.

“Andy!” Audrey cries up at you, and you start undoing Suede’s pants, the pen working better without a barrier. Andy drops to his knees beside you, and you reach in for Suede’s EpiPen, pulling out the separate pouch, so it’s easy to grab. “Hold her,” you can’t handle her own tears when your only focus is oxygen to Suede.

Suede’s face gets all blotchy, the color changing with the lack of air, and you press the pen in his leg. Counting the seconds it takes for his airways to clear, and he looks so scared as that first strangled breath is inhaled. “We gotta go to the ER. Buddy, hey baby, just keep looking at mommy,” you wipe away the tears that stain his face. “It’s okay, baby. Andy is going to get us to the ER, okay?”

“Mama,” his voice is the sweetest thing right now. Even if it’s difficult for him. Even if everywhere on his body is swelling. “My mama,” how many times did those fucking beasts sting him?

“Yeah, baby, mommy is right here. Andy and sissy are getting everything, and we’re going to make sure my baby is okay?” You are already making your way to the parking lot. Andy can handle Audrey and the stroller, you just want your baby out of the crowd, and away from all the people asking if he’s okay. It’s just you and him. He needs to just see you.

“Mommy?” Audrey meets you in the parking lot, and hugs both your legs. “Can you sit in the back with us?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Did you get stung, too?”

“Just once, but Suedey had them all around him. I couldn’t get them away.”

“My brave strong amazing girl, you did amazing. You showed no fear when it came to yourself and bubba. You did perfect, baby, and I’m so proud of you,” she knows you’re upset with a steady flow of tears running down your face and dripping to your neck, but she hugs you back nonetheless.

“Alright, come on,” Andy helps Audrey into the car, buckling her up, and you shudder to think you have to put Suede out of your arms. You just want to hold him, so you can feel his breathing. “Doe, honey, if you want to hold him, you can get in the third row. Never feel bad about it.”

“You’re sure?” You rarely question what you’re doing as a mother, but right now, hearing that it’s okay has relief rushing through your body. The adrenaline finally subsiding, and your fear spikes. You’re so exhausted, but the thoughts of putting your son in his car seat is making your heart race. The fear of seeing him like that can never be erased. Add that to the fucking list of allergies that he has to endure.

“Of course, honey. Let’s get him to the ER. Here, I’ll hold him, while you get in. Just make sure to hold Audrey’s hand, okay?” You nod as you hand Suede to Andy. Knowing how much harder this would be if you were alone. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay because it has to be.

It’ll be okay.

He’ll be okay.

They’ll be okay.

You don’t even matter anymore.

Next

Masterlist

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[msbigredmachine]

Santa Daddy - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

All the Tribal Chief wants for Christmas is you.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: Sorry I brought this in so late, I got sick. Better late than never though! Enjoy!

-----------------------

It was Christmas morning. Your face was a picture of utmost focus as you wiped away the hair stuck to your forehead. It was a mini madness in your open layout kitchen, but at least it was your controlled chaos. In a few hours' time, a select mix of friends, co-workers and family members would converge at your place for a Christmas sleepover for the ages, to mark your first holidays as Roman Reigns' fiancée.

What a crazy eighteen months it has been for you. If anyone told you that within that timeframe, you would escape from your abusive boyfriend, move states, find a new job and a new place to live, you would have laughed in their face.

And Lord knows how you'd have reacted if they added that you'd be dating a professional wrestler in that same timeframe. And not just any wrestler, but the marquee name, the number one guy in WWE. But here you were. In the house you lived in together. Diamond ring on your finger. Prepping dinner and being quite giddy about it too. It had been a long time since you were giddy about anything, but that changed after you said yes to a coffee date with Roman a lifetime ago, it felt like now.

The honey-glazed chicken, roasted potatoes and gravy were ready, as were the salads and greens. Your centerpiece was undoubtedly the smoky Nigerian jollof rice you couldn't wait for everyone to taste. The chocolate was fragrant as it melted in the pot and the sweet crème caramel was setting nicely. You really wanted everything to go smoothly today. Dinner first, after which everyone would gather in the den for gift swaps, karaoke, play some raunchy adult games, then go to bed whenever they liked before leaving in the morning for their drives home. It was the perfect itinerary and you planned to make sure it was.

You were whisking the chocolate sauce on the stove when the shuffling of a familiar pair of size fifteens invaded your ears. Your heart pounded a little harder anfd your brown eyes lit up as he walked into the kitchen, drinking him in with your heart-shaped mouth curving into a smile. It was incredible how he gave off the exact same aura and energy as his grand entrances to the ring with just entering a small room. It was intimidating in the sexiest way.

"I see someone found one of their gifts." Your voice was soft and sweet - a tone you used only for him - with the gentle tinge of a tease. Your man looked so good in his red Christmas-themed pajama set that matched yours, which he complemented with a Santa hat covering the top of his head.

Roman came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your neck. "You look amazing in yours," he told you. Taking a deep breath, he welcomed your fragrance deep into his lungs. Your scent reminded him of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day and the roaring fireplace several feet away in the living room. It reminded him of home. You were home.

"Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife-to-be. I love you." His voice was a low, tender rumble in your ear, and you shivered slightly as his hands massaged your waist, his warm breath caressing the sensitive nape of your neck.

"I love you too, Daddy. Merry Christmas," you greeted back, absorbing the aura, the love and affection radiating from him like a bright light. Gosh, how did you get so lucky, winding up with this incredibly handsome, sweet, gentle giant of a man as a life partner?

"It smells so good in here, babe," Roman complimented, dipping his finger in the gravy boat for a taste. "I wish you woke me up to help out," he added sheepishly.

You shook your head immediately. "Don't worry about it. You needed your rest from all the traveling you've been doing."

"What time do the festivities start again?"

You turned off the stove to temp the chocolate down and turned to him. "Not till like, three."

"Hmm, and it's only nine-thirty now. That's a whole lotta time to ourselves," he pointed out, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he tugged at the waistband of your pajama pants. "I know I got a lot of presents, but Daddy wants to open this one first. Can I?" he asked with a syrupy sweet voice that promised something much more carnal.

"That depends on if you were naughty or nice this year," you replied.

The dramatic pout that came with his puppy dog eyes was so cute. "I promise I've been a good boy."

You arched a manicured brow at him. "You sure? Not even the tiniest bit bad?"

Roman puffed out his chest and grinned proudly. "I'm positive. I made my woman very happy this year. That counts as good, right?"

The glittering rock on your finger answered that question. "Definitely," you agreed.

"Exactly. By the way, look up."

You followed his pointed finger. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the cabinet right above you. You met your fiancé's stormy stare, and your pussy purred from the mischief and lust you saw in them. You licked your lips with anticipation, knowing full well he was going to have his way with you, like he always did. Like you always wanted him to.

"C'mere." He guided your face to his own with his hand on the back of your neck. Your hands clutched his broad shoulders as your lips melded together in a soft, passionate dance. You stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours, worshiping each other's mouths, the smacking of your lips and hushed sighs mingling with the soft Christmas ballad playing through Alexa.

As you kissed, Roman couldn't help but get turned on. He let his hands slip down into the back of your pants and over your backside, molding your bare ass cheeks in his palms while you pressed yourself against him. You continued the increasingly intense makeout session, neither of you seeming to be in any hurry to stop.

"Santa Daddy thinks you've been a good girl this year," he murmured against your lips, "so good that you deserve a special present."

"Mmm, I love presents, Santa Daddy," you replied, allowing him to pick you up and place you on the countertop. He stepped into the space between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, while your arms curled around his shoulders as you dove into the kiss. He caressed your mouth with his luscious tongue in a way that made your knees weak. Your hands and his moved in unison, pulling off each other's clothes until you were both completely nude. The second your top was off, his fingers teased your nipples, which instantly pebbled at his touch. His broad chest was hard and warm against your palms, and you scratched your nails along his ribs just to hear him hiss in a breath right before his mouth latched onto your throat. You whimpered and gripped his hair. God, his mouth and tongue felt so good on your skin. He nibbled and sucked on you while massaging your right breast, and you felt the pit of stomach heat up with the rabid need for your pussy to be filled. The moisture pooling between your thighs could probably fill a lake.

With your eyes closed as you savored the sensations, you never quite saw him take the pot of chocolate, dip the whisk in it and wave it over your nipples. The chocolate that dripped onto your skin seared with heat, but his tongue was there to quickly lick it away before the pain registered as anything more than a turn-on.

"Mmm, that's tasty," he commented.

You watched him and his lethal mouth like a hawk. "You like that, Daddy?" you inquired, resting back on your elbows.

"Oh, I do." He drizzled more chocolate over your breasts. Your mind swam as he took his time sucking each soft flesh, activating your erogenous pressure point. He then dipped his finger in the warm chocolate then made a long trail down your lower belly. He licked that away, then used two fingers to paint your entire pussy with the hot chocolate, his face a mask of concentration as he worked on his masterpiece. Your body jerked and you sucked in a breath at the fire that raged between your legs. Then his tongue was down there, splitting your soft folds apart to delve into your sweetened essence.

Yanking the Santa hat off his head, your fingers threaded through his messy ponytail, pulling his face flush against you, writhing against him and begging for more. "Unnnh, babe, that feels so good," you groaned, your brain growing fuzzy as he French-kissed your pussy, pleasure licking at you with the same devastating impact as his tongue. "Fuck, baby, I love you!"

"I know," Roman moaned back, pushing your thighs further apart. "Spread your legs, baby...wider," he instructed you, his burly arms winding around your thighs and yanking you closer to him. "Mmm, perfect. Imma eat you off this counter, girl."

And he was. With gusto. Desperate for release, you tried to squirm but he had you pinned down to the kitchen island, keeping you still. You were panting hard as the tension coiled tighter in your belly. You were almost there, just a step away from that cliff, when he nuzzled his face against your wet pussy and flicked your hard little clit with his thumb. The pressure sent you over the edge and you moaned through the orgasm, your back arching against the cool surface of the counter. Your string of moans was an aphrodisiac to Roman, and he kept up his tender licking and sucking until your legs fell from his shoulders and you gave a shuddering sigh.

"Jesus," you whispered.

Roman resembled a kid in a candy store with his beard stained with cum and chocolate, eyes bright and lust-filled. He looked up, licked his lips with a smug smile and said, "Nothing tastes as good as you, baby," he praised, and your ego swelled. He always knew the right things to say to make you feel good. Twining your fingers in his, he pulled you upright and kissed your lips, sharing your tangy sweetness with you.

"Your turn," you announced, and slid carefully off the counter, pushing him to sit on one of the stools. You moved to take the pot of chocolate, but the three mason jars filled with homemade caramel sauce caught your eye. A devious little idea popped up in your head. Grabbing one, you unscrewed the cover, licking the sauce around the rim before grabbing Roman's dick with one hand, bringing the jar up to his plum-shaped tip.

"Fuck, girl," Roman shivered, his eyes wide when you dunked his dick right inside the jar. Your eyes shone excitedly as you pulled him back out, the thick, succulent syrup dripping down his pipe and around the rim of your hand.

"Mmm, look at all this sweetness on your dick, Daddy," you moaned, bending at the waist to capture his cock between your lips, your husky sigh vibrating against his sensitive skin. Roman moaned softly as you angled your bobbing head, sliding his dick further down your throat with the same rhythm as your hand stroking him, the sensations leaving him boneless.

"Shiiiit, just like that, baby, eat up my dick like a good girl, how's it taste, huh?" he managed to ask.

"Good," you hummed, working your tongue from the tip of his dick down to the veiny underside of his shaft, causing his breathing to grow labored as his cock throbbed in your hand.

"Oh my god, your tongue, dem juicy lips," Roman clutched your hair, watching you intensely. "Keep suckin' my dick, baby, show me what that mouth do."

Wordlessly, you drew his cock deeper into your mouth with a deep breath and started sucking him with only your jaw doing all of the work. His dick was more than sizable, but was no match for your mouth. Daddy had trained you well to handle all of that fat dick with your mouth and pussy. You paused to scoop more caramel sauce with his dick like a spoon, licking off every drop off his shaft with lavish swipes of your tongue.

"Put some on my balls," Roman instructed.

He held his dick up and out of the way while you rubbed a mix of chocolate and caramel all over his balls. As you sucked on them, Roman slowly massaged his dick, occasionally slapping your face with it. The visual of your arched back mesmerized him, the deliberate twerking of your plump ass cheeks as you pleasured him short-circuited his brain. Even hotter was the sight of his balls hidden in your mouth and the sauce mixture smeared on your chin. The contrast of the dark substance on your brown skin was so fucking sexy.

"That's it, baby, that's it...shit!" The Tribal Chief's deep voice was a strangled gasp, his breaths becoming even shallower as you popped his balls out to recapture his dick. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, lost in toe-curling pleasure as you lodged him in the back of your throat, your warm mouth swallowing around the base of his shaft like a suction. It was his turn to fidget in place, his fingers digging into your scalp as ecstasy loomed ever closer. "Baby I'm gon' come," he whined.

You moaned at his warning, the vibrations shuddering around his length. Your eyes locked with his as he started to fall apart. With a loud groan, he held your head still and gasped helplessly with each spurt of his cum gushing down your throat, his hips bucking from the force of his release. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt you swallow, drinking your fill, your tongue lapping up whatever you spilled. You pulled him out and gulped air back into your lungs, then glanced back up at him with those mischievous pretty eyes, pursing your pouty lips against his blunt head and making his cock twitch in your grasp.

"How the fuck am I still hard?" he half-laughed, half-choked, earning a proud grin from you.

"I got that magic mouth, baby," you declared haughtily, twisting your hand around him in gentle soothing strokes, "And you got this magic dick. You gonna put it on me, Santa Daddy? I know you want to."

"Damn right." He got off the chair and spun you around, bending you over the kitchen table. The tabletop remained cold against your bare, chocolate-streaked skin, and you shivered in response. It was only seconds before he guided your hands to grip the edges of the table in front of you. You moaned softly as he nudged your legs wider apart, hiking your ass slightly higher to press himself up against you.

"Ay, Alexa, turn that shit off, I wanna hear my girl scream for me," he growled at the air, and you burst out laughing when the kitchen fell into an abrupt silence.

His hard dick throbbed between your ass cheeks. He ran the thick head up and down the slit of your pussy lips. When he pushed the first few inches in, you whined pitifully. Your velvety womanhood pulled him in, eking a groan from the Tribal Chief as his big hands roamed your back and ass. His thrusts were slow at first, savoring the feel of your tight, wet pussy tugging at him with each languid stroke. You responded by bucking up against him, luring him even deeper into your body. You moaned together in mutual pleasure.

"God, so tight, so wet...bomb ass pussy," he grunted, smacking your ass and squeezing on the soft juicy flesh, knowing it would make you that much wetter as he stretched you open with that good dick. Your keening moans were nothing but fuel for him; he knew you loved it when he fucked you deep and hard and a little rough, ticking all your little sexual boxes that no one but him knew about. His rhythm was steady yet heavy, keeping you on edge with deep strokes right up on your g-spot. Leaning over you, he swept your hair out of your face to kiss your cheek, a hushed moan slipping from his throat when you squirmed against him, pressing your ass closer to his hips every time he pushed into you.

With the table pressing into your belly and his body trapping you against it, you felt his dick swell inside you, girthier and harder with every thrust. Your body was so sensitized from your previous orgasm that you felt another one build in record time. You wanted your second nut so bad, and you rolled your ass against him, hoping to put enough pressure on your clit to bring it on.

"Unnh yeah, throw that sexy ass back at me," Roman grunted with another hard smack to your ass which jiggled from the impact of his big hand. Said hand then made its way into your hair, the other gripping your waist as he grinded against you and you against him. He loved it; loved you, loved the feel of your bodies moving together, your juices dripping all over his dick, loved the fact that you couldn't seem to control the noises you were making as the kitchen echoed with the erotic sound of them.

"Oh, baby, I'm fuckin' close," you whimpered through your moans.

"How close?" he asked, his lips brushing soft kisses between your shoulder blades and trailing them down your back. His warm breath and his soft beard tickled your skin, and too aroused to answer, you merely whimpered again and bounced your ass more impatiently on his dick. The tension was there in your belly, swirling around so close to explosion, and you needed it like you needed air.

Roman's grip on your hair strengthened, anchoring himself to you. "Don't move. Lemme get that pussy." He was like a Ferrari engine, accelerating with harder pummeling thrusts that filled you to the brim. He was now balanced on just the balls of his feet in an effort to drive deeper into you, pounding you out until you were leaking down your thighs and all over his dick and balls. It felt so good. Too good.

"Yes, Daddy, beat that shit up...unnhhh, my god, I'm coming," you moaned long and loud as you unraveled like flimsy wrapping paper. Stars sparked behind your eyelids as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably from its intensity.

"Mmm, there you go sweetheart, soak my dick,  come all over it," he snickered proudly, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "Was that nut good, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy, so good," you grinded out, lightheaded, your eyes glazed over and unfocused, even more so as you felt his hand spread over the back of your neck and hold you down to the countertop, his hips winding against your ass as he stayed burying his long, girthy dick in your warm, snug depths.

"Good, cuz I'm 'bout to nut too...shit, baby girl, this pussy amazing...You gon' make me put a kid in you..."

The thought of him breeding you with his seed had your pussy clenching around his cock, the suckling sensation reducing his husky taunts into yet another helpless moan. You could tell from his breathing that he was indeed close, his frenzied thrusts becoming sloppier as white-hot pleasure surged through both of your bodies in incredible waves.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Roman grunted, squeezing your hips for dear life as something snapped inside him. Slamming his dick into you one last time, he went completely rigid with a shout as he came hard for you. The warm wet spurts of cum emptying inside you caused your body to shiver against his as you milked his dick dry. His heavy weight kept you pressed into the hard marble table, both of you so limp that it didn't seem to matter that you couldn't breathe. Somehow, you managed to stand back upright, making him do the same behind you. As he wrapped you up in a hug, he was still inside you, and you tilted your head up to gently bite his bottom lip before licking at his tongue. It made him smile, and you couldn't help but smile back as he shared a long, greedy kiss with you before finally pulling out with a groan, slapping your backside one more time as he stepped away.

"Save some of that chocolate stuff for us," he said, grinning when you shot him a questioning look. "I want you to use 'em on me again later tonight."

You picked up the two sets of pajamas off the floor. "Hmm, you won't be too tired from dinner and all that?"

"Too tired to fuck you? Never, my baby girl."

"Then I'll make sure to bring a jar of each." You laughed as his Adams apple and his cock bobbed simultaneously, his imagination running wild with all the nasty things you would do to him.

"Good idea. Nah, scratch that, great idea," he corrected himself with a chuckle, lifting you into his arms bridal-style and carrying you out of the kitchen. "Right now, we both need a shower."

"Why do I got a feeling this 'shower' is gonna keep our guests waiting?"

He laughed with you and ascended the stairs. "You know me so well."

It was two p.m. by the time he was through with you. When you determined that your legs could function properly again, you dragged yourself out of his bed, changed into another set of pajamas and made your way back downstairs to put the finishing touches on the food and the rest of the house. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when this man came up behind you and ran his hands all over your body. His dick was hard.

"Again?" you breathed, biting back a gasp when he started undoing the strings of your pants. The guests would be arriving anytime soon.

"Just one more," he groaned huskily in your ear, grabbing a jar of chocolate sauce, "I've missed you so much, baby, I need to taste you one more time..."

About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Jey and his wife Larissa were your first guests. When the front door opened, they took one good look at you and Roman; disheveled clothing, hair out of place, the smear of sauce over your left breast and on the corner of Roman's lips, and put two and two together.

"Y'all nasty," Larissa giggled and entered the house, with Jey merely shaking his head behind her.

🎄THE END🎄

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This is definitely my final story for the year. I'm so proud of how many I was able to churn out and EXTREMELY happy and proud of how much you all like it. Thank you all, I appreciate all your support and feedback more than you'll ever know! 🥺

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Humping it up on hump day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You taste the cocktail and make a face. As sweet as it is, the alcohol is stringent in your throat. You set the glass down as Bucky’s fingers tap on his pint. You glance up, surprised to find him watching you. 

"Don't like it?" He asks. 

"Mm, no, I mean yes. No." You stutter out. "It's good, I just... don't drink much." 

"She's a good girl." Your mom teases. "I always had to push her out the door. Oh, don't even ask about prom." She grabs his forearm and cackles. "You would think buying a dress would be fun. Nope. I think she'd have rather gone to the dentist." 

Your cheeks turn hot. Four years past and you still cringe at the fitting room torture. You look down and fiddle with the cutlery wrapped in a red napkin. You really wish she wouldn't treat you like a child. You suppose at times you might act like one. 

"Those things can be tough. I barely remember mine. Only went so my buddy didn't feel like such a loser," Bucky shrugs. "But look at how far you've come. I'm sure high school is like a blip on the radar. Now the real fun begins, huh?" 

You know he's trying to help and you appreciate. But it only makes your chest tighten. The dread throbs in your temples. Life, it's all ahead of you but you have no idea where to start. 

"Yeah, I... I barely remember." You talk to the table. 

"She's a smart one," your mom praises. "I really lucked out. No teenage angst, no rebellion." 

You chew your lip and pick at the trim of the table. You sound lame. You are and you never minded the safety of that trait. Still, you'd like to be known as more than a boring little bookworm. 

"Okay, here we are." The server rescues you from further humiliation. "Chicken caesar." 

She puts your salad in front of you, "cheese steak sammy and macaroni salad." She lays a plate in front of Bucky, "and the sizzling fajitas." 

Another server appears with a wooden plank, set with a cast iron pan atop it and fixings; tortillas, salsa, guac. It smells delicious but you know it's too early for all that. You'd be even sleepier and you still have to get unpacked.  

"Enjoy," the waitress smiles and struts away. 

You unwrap your cutlery and use the knife and fork to shred the lettuce. You should've known better than to order salad. It's always so awkward to eat with others around to see. 

"Mm, pretty good," Bucky says. "Lauren, how's that extravaganza? Really went all out." 

"Wasn't expecting all this." Your mother scoops grilled peppers into a tortilla, daintily with her fork as her nails shine in the light. You remember when you asked to get a manicure and she said they were impractical... 

She's changed but you don’t feel all that different than when you left for college. Maybe you should have tried harder. Well, it's not like your life is over. Far from. 

"How about you?" Bucky prompts and once more you meet his gaze with a startled blink. You nod and swallow. 

"Good. Just boring old salad." You say. 

"Always chicken caesar," your mother chirps. "Creature of habit. Don't worry. You'll hardly be surprised. By tonight, she'll have one of her books and you won't hear another peep." 

You bite down on your tongue. You're not sure anymore if she's bragging or she's chiding you. Her life is so exciting now. Her hair is highlighted, her nails are filled, and her makeup... she's actually wearing makeup. 

"Didn't think you could work with those." You say as she catches her nail on her napkin. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm not in the ward anymore. Sweetie, didn't I tell you? I do clinicals now. I just show the new ones what to do. Not much hands-on stuff." 

"Uh, I remember. Sorry." 

"Too sharp," Bucky chuckles. "Can't even hold her hand without getting clawed." 

She jabs him with her shaped tip and he grunts. They laugh together and you look around. You're the sore thumb sticking out. Ever the third wheel. Even when you had 'friends', you sat on the sidelines, confused by their inside jokes. 

"It's very good. Thank you." You sit forward and focus on the salad. The sooner this is over, the sooner you can do exactly what your mom expects. Hide with a book. Alone. 

🩵

Home is always a comforting sight but not as much as you expect. A flicker of guilt sparks in your chest. Bucky just bought you lunch, you shouldn’t be so negative. Still, you just want to unwind after a long day of traveling. 

As much as you want him to just go, you would never say as much. Your mom seems happy with him. She even seems healthier. It’s nice to see her taking care of herself, she’s done enough of that for others for too long. 

You get out of the car but Bucky’s too fast. He has you bag in his hand before you can react to the trunk opening. He smiles and insists, “I got it. You lead the way.” 

“Mm, I could nap about now,” your mother calls over the car roof. 

You agree internally. The whole train ride, you looked forward to burying yourself in blankets and leaving the world behind. It would be rude to do so with company around, even if they aren’t yours.  

You follow your mom to the front door and she unlocks it with a yawn. You enter and slip your shoes off on the mat. Things are different. Not too different, you can’t quite place everything. Yet you notice that the coat rack has been replaced with mounted hooks across the wall and the rug at the bottom of the stairs is new. 

“Oh!” Your mom spins, surprising you before you can sneak past her. “I forgot about your surprise!” 

You look at her then over your shoulder at Bucky as he plunks down your bag. You wait for him to respond. He just offers a small curve of his lips. You turn back. 

“You,” your mom taps your nose. “Come on. Ah,” she waves around you at Bucky, “bring her bag with you.” 

Your mom grabs your arm and ushers you upstairs. You can’t resist, too swept up in fatigue and confusion. He follows behind you. What’s happening? 

“Okay. I hope you like it,” she goes to your door and your stomach flips. Oh no, what did they do? She swings the door open and backs up, waving inside, “tada!” 

You hesitate but make yourself step into the doorway. You glance around and your mouth slowly falls open. You blink at the room. Wow. 

It’s not awful, just another change you’re not ready for. Instead of your old rectangle bookcases, new circle ones have been built into the walls; white instead of brown. Your bed is the same but the wood is newly re-stained and the bedding is shade of pink you wouldn’t necessarily choose. A heart shaped rug is spread across the floor and your previous desk has been replaced with one that folds into the wall. 

There is an entirely new piece that stands out. A vanity in the corner. The mirror is the same shape as the carpet and the stool has a fluffy seat. 

“Oh, wow...” you utter as you step further inside. 

“Bucky is so handy! I always wanted to do this but I didn’t know where to start. Oh, just wait until you see his place,” she rambles as she trails you. “He built the whole thing himself.” 

“I had help,” he tuts and sets your bag down. “Tried not to do too much but just added a fresh coat to everything.” 

You’re silent.  

“Sweetie?” Your mom touches your arm. 

“I’m... surprised. That’s all.” 

“She’s speechless, Bucky!” She squeals and claps her hands. “I knew she’d love it.” 

“Heh, yeah. Well, I hope it isn’t too much.” He rubs his neck as he looks around. “You can let me know. I can change whatever you need.” 

“No, no, it’s really nice. Like really. I...” you wring a finger in your other hand. “Thank you.” 

“Lauren,” he sidles past you and nudges your mother gently. “Why don’t we let her get settled in? I’m sure she’s beat from the road.” 

“Right, right,” she beams around the room before she faces him. “Of course.” She glances over at you, “sweetie, let us know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Mom, I’m fine.” You show your teeth sheepishly and hover around the wall. 

Bucky leaves first, your mom following as she cranes to stare at the room. She leaves you with an excited wiggle and you go to close the door behind her. Once it’s shut, you sigh. You weren’t ready for any of this. Somehow coming home has proven even more disjointing than going away to college. 

You plod to the bed and flop onto it. You roll onto your back and let your eyes rove. It is so cute. You would have killed for a room like this in high school, even on campus. Yet it does seem a lot. You’re sure once you get a job, your mom doesn’t expect you to stay too long. 

Maybe this is a good thing. A little less pressure on you to get out but not exactly. With Bucky hanging around, you can’t help but be in the way. You’re not the only one who needs to adjust to your return. 

You can worry about it all later. For now, you need to close your eyes and stop thinking. 

🩵

The afternoon wears on as you dawdle away on your phone. You can barely keep your eyes open as the screen glares back at you. It’s almost six when you make yourself stop the addictive word game.  

You lay listless, trying to urge yourself to get up and do something. You lose the battles as your eyes close and you drift off without realising it. In your subconscious, you’re just as you are in reality. Just lying there, motionless and mindless. 

You wake slowly as pressure squeezes in your pelvis. Your bladder forces you to action. Even with the painful weight throbbing inside, you move without urgency. You sit up slowly, dizzy from the unexpected doze. You stand and shuffle to the door. 

You leave it open as you go into the hall and let your feet guide you. Habit takes down to the bathroom door and you reach for the handle. It turns from the other side and you recoil in surprise. Bucky stops short as he emerges and apologises. 

You stammer as you gape back at him. Somehow after the whirlwind morning, you forgot all that change. In your grogginess, you didn’t see the new walls or the white bookcases or think. 

“S...Sorry...” you murmur.  

You’re consumed in radiating heat as you stare at the stubble along his neck. Any lower and he might be embarrassed. He is shirtless after all. You’ve never been the best at looking people in the face but you have no choice. You examine his silver-streaked hair, slightly tussled, and his grizzly beard with its dusting of white along his chin. 

You step back as he raises a palm and dips his head. “No problem. Gotta get used to each other, I guess. Bad timing, is all.” 

“Right,” you agree dully. 

He looks back at you and his forehead creases. “You okay?” 

You wince. “Yeah, why?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Just... you look... a little out of it.” 

“I fell asleep,” you run your fingers along your throat nervously. The motion catches his eyes. Their startling blue hue gleam in the light. 

“Right. I figured you needed it. Long ride...home.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours. “Sorry you’re stuck here with us boring old people. You probably miss it already.” 

You shrug, “not really.” 

“Not really? What about your friends?” He rests his hand on the door frame and leans. 

“Didn’t... just study buddies. Classmates.” You look away and shift as your bladder aches. 

He clears his throat and stands straight. He steps out of the frame and you jump at his sudden movement. He touches your hip to keep from colliding with you and sidles by. 

“I’ll just get out of your way, baby girl,” He squeezes, his hand lingering for a moment. “Welcome home.” 

He lets go and turns, strutting down the hall as you stand frozen. You hurry forward and shut yourself in the bathroom as you scramble with the sudden agonizing pang. You don’t have time to think, you have to go! 

[moonstruckme]

Honeydew

I'm doing a rewatch of the bear and god he is just so irresistable. My childhood crush on lip gallagher has been revived and given new purpose! I can't promise to write for carmy consistently but if y'all have requests I wouldn't be opposed to them :)

cw: blood 

Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader ♡ 972 words

There are tons of benefits to being in the same kitchen as a classically trained chef. For one, Carmy always gives you the easy tasks. Stirring pasta, scrambling eggs, chopping scallions. Today, you’re cutting up melon while he whips up some kind of citrus sauce, because your boyfriend is incapable of making just a fruit salad. No, it has to have some kind of fancy factor, or else they’ll take away his star, you guess. (Not that you’re complaining. That sauce is gonna be awesome.)

One thing that doesn’t tend to feel like a benefit is that any time you mess something up, you feel about three times more stupid than you would if you were by yourself. 

How were you supposed to guess that instead of cutting down through the melon when you try to slice it in half, the tip of the giant knife you’re using would come jutting out of the melon and embed itself in your palm. 

You gasp and pull away on instinct, and for a second, can only stare at the strangeness of it. You can see straight through to the inside of your hand, which is as unsettling as it is sickening, freezing you in morbid fascination until blood wells to the surface and your brain catches up to what’s happened. 

“What?” Carmy asks flatly, having heard your gasp and well used to your kitchen mishaps. 

You tear a paper towel off the roll, jamming it over the wound and fisting your hand around it. “I cut myself,” you say, somewhat shakily. 

“How bad?” 

You look down at the knife, miraculously clean-looking despite the blood now flowing from your hand. The paper towel is already starting to feel damp with it. 

You use your good hand to take the knife out of the melon, setting it in the sink so you don’t forget to wash it. “I don’t—” You’ve never cut yourself this deep before. You don’t know how bad is bad. “It seems not great.” 

You startle when a tattooed hand wraps around your elbow. 

“Chill,” Carmy says, turning you around to face him. He takes your wrist. “Open your hand.” 

“I can’t.” Panic makes your throat hot and tight. “It’s bleeding a lot.” 

“Let me see,” he says, trying to pry your fingers away from your curled-up hand. 

“I think it’s fine.” There are tears in your voice, and sometimes you wish Carmy was the type of person whose emotions naturally adjusted to balance out those around him, but your alarm only works him up. 

“Let me see,” he insists sharply, and you don’t have the will to resist, letting him unfold your fingers. You flinch as he removes the paper towel, blood running quickly into the crevices of your palm. 

“Shit,” Carmy hisses, tugging it over the sink. Your hand looks like a delta of crimson streams. He picks the paper towel up again, dabbing roughly so he can see the cut better. 

“Do you think it needs stitches?” you worry aloud, then immediately want to hit yourself. Even if he says it does, you think you’ll push back, too fearful of hospitals and needles and odd, stinging pains to consent to getting them. 

Your boyfriend is quiet, bending close to your hand as he lifts the paper towel again, and your voice goes a bit shrill. “Carm?” 

“No,” he says, staunching the wound again. 

Relief washes over you like a warm tide. Still, you ask, “How do you know?” 

Carmy presses your fingers closed like they had been, loosing a breath as he gives your fist a light squeeze. “I’ve seen enough cuts that do need stitches to know the difference. What the hell did you do?” 

You try to breathe out like he had, but your chest still feels too tight. You can feel your heart beating in your hand. “I don’t know,” you admit. “The knife slipped and went through the skin, or, like, the peel.” 

His brows knit together, and Carmy picks your knife up from the sink. You have no clue what he sees that you don’t, his eyes narrowing, but he shoots you a look once he’s done, setting it back down. 

“It’s dull,” he says, like this is a punishable offense. Maybe in his kitchen, it is. “This is why we keep our knives sharp, so these fuck-ups don’t happen.” 

“How was I supposed to know sharp knives were less dangerous?” You’re trying to joke, but your voice comes out watery. You press your lips together as adrenaline catches up to you, your vision blurring. 

“Relax.” Carmy sounds tired. His grip is strong, though, as he wrestles you into a hug, thick arms banding across your shoulders. You feel stupid, and silly, and he can tell, his hand cupping the back of your neck as tears carve hotly down your cheeks. “You’re just supposed to know.” 

You laugh wetly, breaking up some of the emotion knotted in your chest. Carmy pulls back until he can see your face. His hand moves to the side of your neck, thumb pressed against your jaw. 

“You’re okay,” he says firmly. “Does it hurt?” 

You shake your head. “Not really, I was just scared.” Your lips wobble pathetically, tears dribbling off your chin. “And you yelled at me.” 

Carmy blows out a breath, his mouth slanting wryly. “That wasn’t yelling,” he says, but brings his other hand to your face, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you choke out, pushing against his hands until he gives in, letting you fold yourself into his chest again. “I’m sorry I didn’t sharpen my knife.” 

“I’ll do it for you later.” You can feel his biceps bulging as he tightens his grip on you, holding you closer. “But there’s no fucking way we’re using that melon now.” 

[eternalsams]

The Olive Theory ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warning/content: this is a Soulmates!AU, bit of angst but quickly replaced by fluff, they're so in love it makes me sick, young!Hangman (in his early twenties), naval academy inaccuracies

summary: In a world where you learn a detail about your soulmate on each of your birthdays, you think you found your pair years ago but you're completely caught off guard on your 24st birthday.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration.

masterlist

You were twirling the phone cord around your finger, giggling at something Jake said at the other end. Your gaze was fixed on the ceiling but all your attention was to the man speaking to you. Jake had to leave Texas a few months ago for the Navy Academy after you both graduated at the Austin University. "When's the next time you're coming home?" You asked, kicking your legs in the air. Jake smiled, even though you couldn't see him, and he shook his head. "I don't know sweetheart..." Oh, but he knew. "Probably for the holidays." You tried not to sound too disappointed when you responded. "That's great. I can't wait to see you." You let your legs fall back down on the couch and straightened up. "I hope you're having fun." You smiled softly. "I am, it's great. I can't fly a jet yet, but they have us do some pilot shit in a simulator. It's not the same feeling but I love it!" You smile even more at the excitement in his voice, the distance was hard but knowing he was in his element made it worth it.

"What are you planning for tomorrow?" He then asked. Tomorrow you would celebrate your 24th birthday, but you didn't have the mood to celebrate anything without Jake. He hadn't missed a single birthday for 7 years and tomorrow would be the first one you spend apart. "I don't know yet... My mom wants us to go see a movie but I'm not really feeling like it..." You rubbed a hand on your face, trying to contain the tears for spilling. "Y/n..." You heard Jake sigh. "I know, I know. But I just miss you so much..." You murmured. "I miss you too, sweetheart..." He responded and the line was silent for a moment. You thought he had hung up before you heard his voice again. "You're ready to learn something new about me?" He said with a certain tease in his voice. Oh yeah, you almost forgot about that. Tomorrow you would find an envelop in your mailbox, containing a small detail about your soulmates. You knew Jake was yours, every year all the letters you got matched perfectly with him, and his with you.

"I'm pretty sure it's gonna say that you'd wet your bed until you were 8." You laughed heartedly. "Hey! It happened once and it's because I was sick! I knew I shouldn't introduce you to my mom in the first place..." You laughed even more and the melancholy you felt a minute ago disappeared. That was the thing about Jake, he always managed to bring a smile on your face. "Alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna have to go. I gotta get up early tomorrow, I'm gonna see my first jet up close." He said excitedly, making your smile widen. "Okay, cowboy. Have fun tomorrow, I'll text you whatever stupid thing I learn about you." You heard Jake laugh and you exchanged 'I love you's before hanging up. You sighed and rubbed your eyes, wiping away the tears forming in the corners.

You woke up the next morning with a smile on your face, you threw your legs out of the bed, slipped on your slippers and ran to your mailbox. You grabbed the envelop and ran back inside. You softly chuckled, anticipating whatever you're gonna learn about Jake. You silently wished it would be something embarrassing so you could have a good laugh but when you read the words on the letter, your smile immediately fell. They love olives. No, it couldn't be. Jake didn't like olives, he always gave you his. On pizzas, in salads. You've never seen him eat a single one olive since you've met him. You stayed frozen for what seemed hours before you heard knocks on your door. You knew it was your mom, and seconds after, the front door opened and you could hear your mother's voice. She joined you in the kitchen and stopped in her tracks when she saw you. "What's wrong, baby?" Your gaze stay focused on the wooden table and you gave her the letter. You didn't trust your voice from quivering if you spoke right now. She read the words and dropped the letter on the table before wrapping her arms around your shoulders. "Oh, honey... It's gonna be okay..." Jake wasn't your soulmate. You just couldn't believe it, everything was going perfect with him, even if the distance made it hard, you really thought you found your pair with him. But you were destined to be with someone else, someone who loved olives. And Jake was destined to be with another person.

Jealousy and anger took over your body and you ripped the letter and envelop to pieces. You knew you didn't have to follow what the letters told you, you could stay with Jake and everything would be fine for the both of you. But now that you knew he wasn't your soulmate, you would always think about that other person he would be happier with. You couldn't think about being happier than with Jake but you really didn't want to think about Jake being happier with someone else and leaving you for someone better than you. You then stayed home with your mom, forgetting about the movie and whatever you guys planned for your birthday. From time to time, you'd find yourself crying silently and then quickly wiping the tears to give a reassuring smile to your mom. That until you heard the doorbell ring. You were curled up on your couch, hugging a pillow and wrapped up in a blanket Jake got you last winter. Your mom got up and went to answer the front door, murmuring something before you heard the door close.

"Sweetheart?" Your head immediately raised at the sound of that voice and your eyes widened. "Jake? What are you doing here?" You straightened up and got up from the couch, dropping the pillow and the blanket on the floor. "I'll leave you two alone. Call me if you need anything, okay?" Your mom said before kissing your cheek and then Jake's before leaving the house. "Jake, what are you doing here? I thought you had class..." You asked with glassy eyes, your voice breaking and betraying your mental state. Your boyfriend dropped his duffle bag on the floor and reached for you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. "I wanted to surprise you. What's wrong? Did you learn something so embarrassing you don't wanna be with me anymore?" He tried to joke but the reality caught you and the smile he wanted to see appear on your face never showed up. That's when he knew something was very wrong. "Okay, let's sit down for a bit and you'll tell me everything, okay? Just calm down and breathe deeply." You both sat down on the couch and you curled up against him, listening to his heartbeat and timing your breathing with his. He was rubbing your back the whole time, kissing the top of your head and whispering reassuring words into your ear.

Once you calmed down and pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. "You're not the one I'm supposed to be with..." You murmured and he froze. He looked like a kicked puppy and you hated yourself for being the one responsible for how sad he looked. "What...? No. That's not possible, everything matched." He ran his fingers into his hair as he got up from the couch and paced around the living room. "What did it say? Where's the envelop? I wanna see." He looked back at you with incredulous eyes. "I shred it to pieces... It said..." You calmed your voice and took a deep breath. "It said my soulmate loves olives." You looked down at your hands on your lap and heard Jake chuckle. You frowned and looked up at him with confusion written all over your face. "This is not funny, Jake." You almost felt offended he would laugh about something like this. The soon-to-be-pilot stopped laughing and sat back down next to you, taking your hands in his. "I'm sorry, it's not. It's not funny. It's just that... I am your soulmate." He said with a soft smile. "Jake, no-" But before you could keep talking, he stopped you, placing his fingers on your lips. "No, I am your soulmate, Y/n. I love olives, I do." You frowned and took his hand, pulling it away from your mouth. "What? But..." You really didn't understand what was happening...

"You remember our first date in high school?" Of course you remembered, you skipped your last class of the morning to go get pizza and go to the park next to your high school. You shared one pizza and that's when you learned Jake didn't like olives. Well, apparently he did. You nodded and stayed silent, waiting for his explanation. "When you took that first bite into the pizza, I asked you if you liked olives. But not because I didn't like them, it was because I saw how much you loved them. I wanted to make you happy and I did. You were so excited to get my olives as well as yours. I just never told you so you didn't feel bad for stealing my olives." He explained and you let out a deep sigh. You felt your eyes water and you threw yourself in Jake's arms, embracing him tightly. "So we're still soulmates...?" You asked in the crook of his neck. "As long as you'd let me." He kissed the spot just between your neck and your shoulder before pulling away and looking straight into his eyes. "Happy birthday, Sweetheart..." He gently smiled and you giggled before kissing him deeply.

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦⎥𝗖𝗕98

Pairing: Connor Bedard x fem!reader

Summary: After a long, hard practice, Connor comes home to his girlfriend and a classic makeout on the couch

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, Connor giving reader hickeys, technically underage drinking since it’s set in Chicago

Notes: This is my first fic ever, so please go easy on me. I am really proud of this, since so often I write something and think it is horrible, so this is a big step for me.

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1.1k

Connor unlocks the door with a sigh. Practice was rough and the weather has turned to shit. He toes off his shoes as the scent of onions and garlic meet his nose. A smile creeps onto his cloudy face when he thinks about the person behind the mouth-watering food. The one who sees Connor in a way nobody else can. The one who knows him. 

He grins –fully this time– when he hears the music playing softly in the background. You can take a girl out of the country, but not the country out of the girl.

“Y/N, baby, I’m home”, he calls out, hanging his coat up and grabbing his phone.

“In the kitchen” she replies just as he walks in, “How was practice?”

“Rough. Harder than normal. Defense was put through the wringer, after that last game, and Richardson made us do sprints. We have got to get our shit together. A few guys were a little green by the end. Is there anything you need help with?”

“Just grab the wine out of the fridge. I had Janelle pick it up for me.Oh, grab the salad too. Greek tonight”

Connor heads around the island to the fridge, first stopping at the stove and wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. She relaxes into him, leaning her head back on his shoulder as his temple meets hers. They stand like that, eyes closed and relishing in the feeling of each other, finally. They sway gently to the beat of the music, a classic country love ballad that is one of Y/N's favourites. Y/N’s fingertips danced along his forearms before linking their fingers. 

“I fucking hate long distance. Maybe I should try and transfer to school here”, Y/N says quietly, feeling tears well in her eyes.​​

Connor chokes up at her words, inhaling a shaky breath before he speaks. This topic is one that was discussed hundreds of times while Y/N was applying to school. They both knew it would be hard, but as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

Hearing the tears in her voice, Connor swallows the lump in his throat and replies, “I know, baby, I know it sucks. I hate it too. I wish you were here more, and that I had more time to come up to you. But we can do this, let’s not take a moment we have together for granted.”

She turns in his arms, giving him a proper hug, holding each other close. He kisses her head, then kisses her lips tenderly. Y/N rests her head on his chest and feels the low thud of his heart. Connor drops a kiss to her shoulder and moves to get the wine and salad and the pasta is dished up. They discuss the happenings of the day over dinner, the momentary sadness over being apart evaporates. Connor shares animated stories of the Foligno kids and the better parts of practice. Both Connor and Y/N are wearing equally large smiles with love in their eyes. Their combined efforts have the dishes done, leftovers put away, and kitchen cleaned in record time. 

Y/N pours a second glass of wine for the two of them and she settles on the couch, tucked into Connor’s side with his arm around her shoulders. He turns on the TV, Modern Family playing quietly as they sit in comfortable silence. Connor’s hand runs down her arm, landing low on her hip. Her hand sits in his thigh, thumb slowly rubbing back and forth. Y/N breathes deeply, inhaling the fresh scent of the soap from Connor’s after practice shower and his spicy cologne that lingers on his shirt, feeling drowsy and safe and warm. She tips her head up at him, meeting his eyes. He has a gentle smile on his face, bringing his hand to cup her cheek. Connor strokes her cheek with his thumb before tracing the line of her jaw, his eyes taking in her face, committing every detail to memory. The colour of her eyes, freckles on her cheeks, her full bottom lip. 

His thumb catches on her lip, gently tugging it open before letting it go. He dips his head to hers, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss. Connor pulls back, but Y/N slides her hand around the back of his neck and brings their lips together again. This time deeper, more intense. She pushes up into a sitting position, her other hand finding Connor’s shoulder.

He grips her hip, holding her close and steady, other hand still on her cheek. He lets his tongue press against her lips, and she opens willingly. As they sink into the kiss, Connor grabs her behind her knee and pulls her to straddle his lap. The moment is all overlapping breaths and rushed inhales, searching hands and pure love. Both of Connor’s hands are on her hips now, slipping lower to grab her ass through her jeans. Y/N’s hand threads through his hair before tangling in his grown-out curls at the nape of his neck. Heavy breaths and light moans filter through the room when Connor kisses down Y/N’s neck, dragging his tongue over her jaw. His hands slide under her shirt, wandering over her bare back. He pulls her closer by a belt loop.

He peels her shirt off, and she returns the favour. Y/N tips her head back as Connor moves down her neck and along her collarbone, sliding her bra straps down. She lets out a breathy moan and moves to clutch his shoulders, she feels the firm muscles move and ripple under his warm skin. He pauses, nipping and sucking at her skin. The air is warm in the apartment, thick with tension. His hands sit firmly on her hips. Once Connor is satisfied with the mark he left, he moves a little lower, repeating the process again, and again. 

It's a good thing it is winter, once Connor is done and moves to kiss her lips again. Y/N winces a little when his fingers brush the new bruises.

"I'm sorry baby." he whispers against her mouth.

She simply smiles and says back to him, "No, you're not, and neither am I. I love it just as much as you do."

This closeness, the intimacy of the moment is something the two cherish when they are apart. Connor pulls Y/N into his chest, holding her close. He draws shapes lightly along the bare expanse of her back, goosebumps rising in their wake. Her hands find hair, playing with the ends. Their foreheads rest against each other, eyes closed and arms wrapped around each other. Contentment and drowsiness replace hurried desire.

Connor stands, setting Y/N on her feet. Offering her his hand, he says, "Come on love, let's get to bed."