#just dinner and a low energy night

[rosestthorns]

Me being autistic and watching the SA2 fan dub for the 100th time because I've had a challenging week

[candyredappledragon]

i stg im going to take you to a spa and let you have a full day of uninterrupted relaxation, you deserve it tbh

that sounds good right about now actually.... but i have work to do. the one time where i wish i would prefer if it was schoolwork instead of..... all of this. aw man...

[supercantaloupe]

argh...i got invited to a dinner party on 9/16. i don't know if i should decline because of rosh hashannah or not

[cheeseatlantic]

i want his meat (double meaning)

THE BUTCHER’S WIFE

!butchersimon x fem reader

Simon Riley’s butcher shop is a staple in town. Small, cozy, always smelling like freshly cut meats and slow-cooked broth. Everyone knows him, trusts him—the man behind the counter with rough, skilled hands and sharp eyes that miss nothing. He’s quiet, polite in his own gruff way, but he doesn’t waste words on unnecessary chatter.

Yet, despite the intimidating build and the sharp cleaver always within reach, every local knows one thing—Simon Riley is a devoted family man.

The proof? The way he locks up early to make it home for dinner. The way he handpicks the best cuts of meat to bring home to you—his wife, the love of his life, the one woman who has him utterly tamed in ways no one would believe if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.

Your home is just a little outside of town, nestled in the countryside, where the air is fresh and the kitchen always smells like something rich and hearty. Two little ones keep you busy—your children, his pride and joy. They��ve got his stubbornness, your wit, and an endless supply of energy.

But tonight? Tonight is different. The kids are asleep, the house is quiet, and Simon’s just gotten home—his broad frame filling the doorway as he steps inside, carrying a small paper-wrapped bundle.

“Brought you somethin’, love.” His voice is deep, warm, edged with something unreadable as he places the package on the counter. You unwrap it, revealing the finest cut of steak, perfectly marbled—something expensive, something he wouldn’t just sell to anyone.

You raise an eyebrow. “Special occasion?”

Simon hums, stepping behind you, hands settling low on your waist as he presses against your back. He smells like cedarwood, steel, and the faintest hint of smoked meat.

“Felt like treatin’ my girl,” he murmurs, lips grazing your neck.

Heat prickles down your spine.

Because that’s the thing about Simon—he’s soft for you, gentle with the kids, but when the night stretches long and the world outside fades away, he is anything but tame.

“Mm. So you’re buttering me up first?” you tease, arching into him.

His chuckle is low, dark. “That depends. Is it working?”

You don’t answer, just tilt your head to give him better access as his hands start to wander, rough palms pressing over the curve of your hips, gripping, claiming.

“You worked hard today,” you murmur, a slow smirk tugging at your lips.

Simon hums against your skin. “Oh, I did. Choppin’ all that meat, swinging that cleaver all day.” His voice drops, thick and heavy. “Reckon I still got some energy left, though.”

Your breath catches.

The thing is—Simon may have left behind the battlefield, but he never lost that raw, dangerous edge. It lingers in the way he handles a knife, the way he moves, the way he takes. And right now, it’s flashing in his gaze, hunger written in every line of his body as his hands tighten around you.

“You’re insatiable,” you whisper, half-laughing, half-breathless.

Simon grins, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Only for you, love.”

And as he lifts you onto the counter, pushing between your thighs with the ease of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, dinner is long forgotten.

(But don’t worry—he’ll still cook that steak later. After all, his girl needs to eat.)

slurping up that sausage like its my last meal ty

[sallysfairytale]

10 tips for a 10x better life

0 complaining

Complaining focuses your mind on problems instead of finding solutions. By shifting your energy to action and gratitude, you become more positive, productive, and resilient.

1 (cold) shower/day

Cold showers boost circulation, improve recovery, and increase mental toughness. Even warm showers help refresh your body and mind, setting the tone for a productive day.

2 liters of water/day

Proper hydration improves energy levels, brain function, and digestion. Dehydration can lead to fatigue, headaches, and poor concentration—so keep your water intake in check. Tipp: Use a large cup or bottle with 500ml or 1l. It'll help with building the habit if you don't have to get up after every glass

3 hours max screen-time

Excessive screen time can drain your mental clarity, disrupt sleep, and make you less present in real life. Setting limits helps you focus on meaningful activities and personal growth. If setting limits doesn't work: Delete the App that's distracting you the most completely off your phone. For me it was character.ai -> damn this app had me in a chokehold for some while...

4 day resistance training/workout

Regular strength training boosts metabolism, enhances physical and mental health, and increases longevity. Even a few sessions a week can improve confidence and energy. Doesn't mean you have to get a gym-membership -> just go on youtube and find a home-workout that works for you <3

5 mins daily meditation

Meditation reduces stress, enhances focus, and strengthens emotional resilience. Just five minutes a day can help you feel more present, clear-headed, and in control of your thoughts.

6 home-cooked dinners/week

Cooking at home allows you to control ingredients, save money, and eat healthier. It also builds discipline and strengthens your connection to the food you consume.

7 strangers spoken to per week

Engaging with new people improves social skills, confidence, and networking opportunities. You never know what connection, insight, or opportunity a simple conversation might bring.

8 hrs sleep/night

Quality sleep is essential for brain function, recovery, and emotional well-being. Lack of sleep leads to irritability, poor focus, and decreased productivity—prioritize a good rest at night!

9 thousand steps

Walking keeps your body active, improves cardiovascular health, and boosts creativity. It’s an easy, low-impact way to stay fit and clear your mind daily. Put on some headphones, open your favorite playlist and spend some quality time outside.

10 pages reading/day

Reading expands your knowledge, improves focus, and fuels personal growth. Just 10 pages a day can introduce you to new ideas, perspectives, and skills that elevate your life.

xoxo, sally

pic1 | pic2 | pic3

[dahlibae]

FEEL MY LOVE.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — Your Wanda’s first relationship since her divorce.

warning(s) — oneshot: age gap, fluff, friends to lovers, kisses, smut, they’re so soft, finger sucking, cunnilingus, love confession! (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Wanda had never expected to find love again, much less with a woman. After the emotional turmoil of her divorce, she’d resigned herself to the idea that her days of romance were behind her. But then there was you—bright, kind, and effortlessly charming. You came into her life like a warm breeze, reminding her of what it felt like to laugh, to cry, to love.

At first, she was hesitant. Her feelings confused her, having never felt this way for another woman before. She wasn’t sure if it was simply the thrill of something new or something deeper. After all, you had started off as friends. Good friends. You had moved to Westview after a job relocation and your daughter had been enrolled at the same school as Wanda’s boys. They all took to each other immediately, and your daughter rushed home after school to tell you about her new friends who had invited her over to play.

But when Wanda caught herself staring at you during your shared morning coffee runs, your early morning drop offs, your shared grocery runs, smiling at the way you crinkled your nose when you laughed, she knew it was real.

She had fallen in love.

Your first kiss was in her kitchen. She’d invited you over for dinner—a recipe she nervously perfected the entire week—and as you helped her clean up, your hands brushed hers while drying a plate. The moment lingered, and before either of you knew it, you both leaned in. Her lips, soft as ever, and her breath warm against yours.

She pulled back first, her cheeks flushed.

"Too soon?" She questioned shyly, her hands trembling slightly.

“Not soon enough.” You replied, soothing the older woman’s nerve by leaning in for another kiss, dishes left in the sink as you wrapped your arms around her waist.

From that moment, the two of you were inseparable—like lovesick teenagers discovering the thrill of romance. Wanda would eagerly invite you and your daughter over for cozy family movie nights. The evenings would start with the kids taking charge of the remote, their excited voices filling the room as they insisted on watching their favourite shows. Eventually, their energy would fade, and they’d fall asleep in a blanket fortress they’d built in the living room.

With the children settled, you and Wanda would quietly retreat upstairs to enjoy movies of your own. You quickly learned that she had an undeniable love for old sitcoms, far more than their modern counterparts. She’d sit close to you on the bed, the flickering screen casting a warm glow over the room. Inevitably, her head would find its place on your shoulder, and you’d tease her about knowing every line by heart.

She’d respond with a playful elbow to your side, her laughter soft and contagious.

“You’re just mad I’m not giving you attention.” She’d tease, her voice low and affectionate as she leaned closer. Her face would hover near yours, her lips curving into a smile before she pressed a series of gentle, lingering kisses to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” You’d admit. Her long brunette curls falling around you as she beamed down at you. Her mouth pressed kisses all over your face, but you sought out her lips, craving the taste of her, immediately opening your mouth for the brush of her tongue. You were warm, heavy and satisfied, but as your hands roamed her body, taking in every inch of cream skin and smooth curves through her pyjamas, that warmth began burned deep within. Taking her hands in yours, you kissed across her veins; lips weaving a delicate pattern over smooth skin from wrist to the tips of fingers. Once there, you allowed your tongue to push past your lips and take her soaked digits into your mouth.

A small gasp fell from her mouth as you released her to pull her lips back on yours, “Please, Wanda.”

And with that, she fell sideways, pulling you to drape over her lean frame. The most beautiful thing in the world. Her hands—large, but steady—pressed gently against your back, anchoring you against her. The scent of her shampoo, something faintly citrus yet floral, drifted up to you, grounding you in the here and now.

Her fingers rose to brush lightly against your jawline, “What is it, baby?”

You pressed closer to her, unable to answer, as your lips fell upon hers, hands reaching for the fabric between you. She immediately understood, nodding her head quickly before unlatching her arms from around you to pull her pyjamas off. She was left clad in her panties as she helped take yours off too, desperate to pull you back over her. Her leg slipped between yours, and the friction sent sparks through you, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

She smiled against your mouth, her dark eyes glowing with something raw, unspoken, and utterly consuming.

“I’ve always wanted you like this.” She murmured, her voice barely audible.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, the light catching on the subtle curves of her face, her flushed cheeks, her slightly swollen lips. You ran your fingers through her curls, letting them tumble through your hands like silk, and whispered back, “You don’t know how long I’ve needed you.”

Her hands cradled your face now, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth, her touch both grounding and electric.

“You have me.” She whispered, her tone leaving no room for doubt, her gaze locked on yours like an unbreakable tether.

You kissed your way down her body, her thighs spread wide, her sex swollen, wet, and glistening with desire through her damp panties. You discarded the offending fabric before slowly parting her lips, watching as she pulsed under your touch, every movement of your fingers drawing soft whimpers from her. Her moans deepened as your tongue traced a path from her entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. You paused just long enough to let the anticipation build before settling on the side of her clit, your tongue lapping in slow, deliberate strokes. Your hands slid beneath her thighs, anchoring her as her fingers tangled in your curls, gripping tighter with every wave of pleasure that coursed through her. Her breath hitched, her body arching toward your mouth as you devoured her with unrelenting focus.

“Fuck.” You heard her gasp, unable to catch her breath, as her hips began to rock into you, close to falling over the edge. Her whines became moans, and teeth clamped down on her swollen lips, trying to keep quiet. One last flick of your tongue, and she fell over the edge, walls contracting as she rocked into your face, riding out the rest of her orgasm as you held your tongue still against her.

“Baby.” She called for you, fingers brushing yours as she led you back up her body and to her swollen lips, sharing her sweet taste. “My baby.” She whispered, eyes fluttering open, half-lidded and glazed.

You giggled at the sight of the usually reserved woman, to which she replied with a head tilt, “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just…love you.” The words left you before you could second-guess them, before you could talk yourself out of it.

Her fingers stroked against your cheek, guiding you back down to place a soft kiss to your lips, before detouring as she loudly kissed against your entire face.

You squealed rather childishly, not bothering to fight her attack, knowing you couldn’t stop her even if you tried. But for a moment, she just looked at you, her eyes searching yours, and you wondered what she saw there—if she saw the way your heart was practically beating out of your chest, the way your entire body felt like it's caught in a storm. Then, without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in another kiss so fierce, so consuming, it left you breathless.

“I love you too.” She said, and there was no hesitation, no doubt.

Just the truth, as raw and beautiful as she was.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Baby Fever in Abu Dhabi

Word count: 840

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: After Max and Kelly announce their pregnancy during a dinner in Abu Dhabi, Y/n finds herself daydreaming about starting a family with Lando.

________________________________________________________

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend was always electric, the perfect mix of high stakes and celebration. The paddock buzzed with energy, and the golden hues of the desert sunset made everything feel surreal. Lando Norris and Y/n had just wrapped up a long day of media sessions and track walks, and they were both ready to unwind.

Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet had invited them for dinner at their suite in the luxurious Yas Marina hotel. Y/n had been looking forward to it all day—Max and Kelly always made great company, and their gatherings were a welcome break from the intense race weekend atmosphere.

When they arrived, Kelly greeted them with her signature warmth, her glowing smile instantly making Y/n feel at home.

“Come in, come in,” Kelly said, ushering them inside. The suite was stunning, with a view overlooking the illuminated marina, the yachts glittering like jewels against the dark water.

Max appeared from the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine. “About time,” he teased, shaking Lando’s hand. “Thought you’d get lost on the way here.”

“Not everyone drives like you, mate,” Lando joked, smirking as he plopped onto the couch.

Y/n gave Kelly a quick hug, then turned to Max. “Thanks for having us. This place is incredible.”

“We’re glad you could come,” Kelly said, her voice unusually soft.

As dinner was served, the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from the season’s highs and lows to plans for the off-season. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Max and Kelly were holding something back. They exchanged knowing glances throughout the meal, and Kelly’s hand frequently rested on her stomach.

Finally, as dessert was brought out—a decadent chocolate cake that Y/n immediately eyed with excitement—Max cleared his throat.

“Alright,” he began, his tone quieter than usual. “We have something to share with you.”

Kelly placed her hand on his, her smile lighting up the room. “We’re having a baby,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

Y/n gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my God, Kelly! That’s amazing!”

Lando blinked, clearly caught off guard but quick to recover. “Wow, congrats, mate! That’s… wow.” He stood up, giving Max a firm handshake and a clap on the back before hugging Kelly.

Y/n practically launched herself at Kelly, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you two! You’re going to be the best parents.”

Kelly laughed softly, her hand instinctively brushing over her small bump. “Thank you. We’re so excited—and nervous, of course. But mostly excited.”

As the evening continued, the conversation shifted to baby names, nursery ideas, and Max’s surprisingly sentimental thoughts about fatherhood. Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, but deep down, a small, unexpected pang tugged at her heart.

On the drive back to their hotel later that night, Y/n stared out the window at the shimmering lights of Abu Dhabi. The streets were alive with fans and festivities, but her mind was elsewhere.

“You’ve been quiet,” Lando said, glancing at her as he navigated through the bustling roads.

She hesitated before responding. “It’s just… Max and Kelly. They seemed so happy, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his tone casual. “Max looked like he’d just won two championships in one season or something.”

She laughed softly, then turned to face him. “Don’t you think it’s amazing? Starting a family, building something together like that?”

Lando’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, and he gave her a quick look. “You’re not saying we should do that anytime soon, right?”

“No!” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I’m just saying… I don’t know. Seeing them tonight made me think about it. Someday, maybe?”

He pulled into the hotel parking lot, switching off the engine before turning to her fully. His expression softened, a mix of amusement and tenderness. “You’ve got baby fever, don’t you?”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Maybe a little. But it’s not like I want a baby tomorrow or anything. It’s just… it made me think.”

Lando reached over, pulling her hands away from her face. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re avoiding the question.”

He chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Alright, I’ll admit it: seeing Max all excited like that was kind of cool. But we’ve got time, Y/n. Let’s enjoy what we have now, yeah?”

She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, we do have a pretty good thing going, don’t we?”

He grinned, his signature mischievous look returning. “The best. And who knows? Maybe one day we’ll have a little Norris running around. But let’s take it one step at a time—like getting me through this race weekend first.”

Y/n laughed, the tension melting away as they headed inside. As she slipped her hand into his, she couldn’t help but picture a future where their little family dreams might just come true. But for now, she was happy with their here and now—and Lando by her side.

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

[900 words of fluff, smut, and breeding kink]

Daydreaming about...

Husband!Joel Miller and the first time it slipped from your lips.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. 

It was a sultry summer evening, the kind where the air still clung to you even after the sun dipped below the horizon. You’d both been a little buzzed, the walk home from the neighborhood block party filled with laughter and teasing touches. 

Joel had barely managed to close the front door before his lips were on yours, his hands greedy and warm as they wandered under your sundress.

It had been the kind of night where everything felt heightened—the taste of his tongue against yours, the way his calloused palms felt against your skin, and how his every touch seemed to unravel you. He’d taken you to bed with that intense, unfiltered adoration in his eyes, the kind that always left you weak in the knees. 

He was almost too much, murmuring worshipful praises into your ear, and against every inch of your skin. He had that sparkle in his eyes that made you melt. Everything was a pleasant blur, the way your bodies fit together, your giggles as he nearly growled, trying to pull you closer. 

The haze of his tender, overwhelming love, was more intoxicating than the warmth of the sun and the last hints of alcohol buzzing in your veins. He was pure devotion, attuned to every part of your body, every thought you might have, and coaxing you into a state of euphoria. 

You didn’t even realize you were talking, rambling softly between gasping breaths as he rocked into you, filling you to the brim until your eyes rolled back. But you’d been singing sweet praises right back to him. 

“So good,” you whispered. “Just like that, fuck.” 

And he did exactly as you said, hitting that perfect angle that had you floating away, lost in the bliss. 

And then it happened. 

Slipping free, soft and breathy between moans. “Oh, fuck,” your brows scrunching together in that way they always did when you were close. “Cum deep, baby, I need it.” Another moan rolled through you as he thrust his cock so deep it kissed the end of you. “That’s it. I want to carry it inside me, always. Fill me up until it takes, Joel.” 

Joel had frozen for a moment, his gaze locking on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His cock twitched inside of you like he was somehow even harder than he’d ever been. Something primal flickered in his dark eyes, his jaw tightening before he let out a deep, guttural groan. 

Whatever switch you’d flipped in him sent him spiraling into something wild, feral. He’d pumped into you like it was his sole purpose, whispering filth and adoration in equal measure, his body relentless against yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. A tangled vine of limbs. 

Now, a couple of years into your marriage, that same insatiable energy has returned. But this time it’s real. Tangible. The decision to start trying for a baby had been an exciting one, but you hadn’t anticipated how it would unleash a new, unstoppable side of your husband.

Joel’s been radiating pure, unadulterated want for weeks now. It’s in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire universe. It’s in his hands, which can’t seem to stay off you, whether he’s tugging you into his lap on the couch, pressing against you in the kitchen, or pulling you into the shower under the guise of saving water.

You’re attempting to finish making dinner when you feel him behind you. His strong arms slide around your waist, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His hands find their way to your hips first, then drift upward, cupping your breasts as his thumbs tease over the sensitive peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine. “How am I s’posed to keep my hands off ya when you look like this?”

“Joel,” you protest weakly, though the way your breath catches betrays you. “I’m trying to cook.”

“Don’t care,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Need you, darlin’. Right here, right now.” His hands trail lower, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your leggings, and you’re gone, dinner long forgotten as he husks into your ear about how he’s gotta keep you filled up. Spouting off nonsense like how he can hear your pussy beggin’ for him, how she’s feelin’ empty and needs him too.

And somehow, no matter how filthy and feral he gets for you, it’s endearing. Wrapped in love and yearning for the idea of a family. Of more to love. 

The rest of your days—and nights—follow the same pattern. 

You find yourself pinned against the kitchen counter, bent over the couch, tangled in the sheets. He’s unstoppable, each touch, kiss, and thrust carrying a purpose that leaves you trembling and breathless.

Even at work, he’s insatiable. A quick trip to his job site to drop off his lunch turns into a heated, stolen moment in the back of your car. His kisses are ravenous, his hands rough but loving as he pulls you into his lap, his gruff voice murmuring, “Can’t wait, baby. Need you now.”

Every touch feels like a vow, every whispered word a promise. Joel loves you with his whole being, and now, with the thought of building a family together, that love has taken on an obsessive edge that leaves you dizzy and utterly devoted to him.

Late one night, as you lie together in the afterglow, his hand splayed possessively over your lower belly, he looks at you with those hearts in his eyes.

“This time,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I feel it.” 

And you believe him. 

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dividers

🍒 @lovely-vamp-princess 🍒 @mushgloomz 🍒 @untamedheart81

[julymusings]

love in withdrawal

true that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, that the sound of the saw must be known by the tree.

or; in the aftermath of that night, you're both wracked with regret, wishing it went differently. [3.3k]

jason todd x fem!reader; warnings from pt1 also apply; typical jason-angst (so ptsd, self-image/hatred, family issues, etc) + virgin!jason YOU ALR KNOW THE VIBESSSS😝😝😝👹👹 previous: you're good to me, baby

Jason Todd has tried very hard to be normal. At least, as normal as he can get. After returning to his home city and settling into his role as the Red Hood, crime lord and resident anti-hero of Gotham, he really did try. He went out with his 'coworkers' to have a good time. He spoke to his neighbors, hoping some friendship would stick. He went to a seedy bar with Roy and stuttered through some flirting with the girl who eye-fucked him from across the bar for fifteen minutes. With Roy’s encouragement (read: peer pressure), he followed her out to the alley behind the bar. He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow. His heightened senses made the way she trailed one finger up and down the muscles of his arm feel prickly, the scars under his sleeve sensitive and itching at her touch. Her lips were too sticky with gloss, and its saccharine watermelon flavor lingered on his teeth for days. No matter how hard he scrubbed at them.

Roy hadn’t let him live that down for months. His recounting of Jason leaving her in the bar when she invited him home, looking ‘scared shitless and fumbling hard’ was an exaggeration, but maybe not that far off. Looking back, he wasn’t sure what he expected; he could barely look his own family in the eye. How did he think he’d be able to keep it together around a pretty girl? He was quick to give up any hopes of being ‘normal’ after that.

He lived like that for a while; putting all his energy into keeping the city safe, working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason. He fixed things with his family just enough to have a place to go every other weekend to “upgrade his gear.” When he stuck around long enough that it was ‘only convenient’ to stay for dinner, no one commented on it. He’d accepted that this was his life now.

He never meant for things to go this far with you. Honestly. He was just doing his job when he gave you a ride home after you sprained your ankle trying to fight off that mugger. When he had to hold your weight so you could walk up the stairs to your apartment, he was still just doing his job. And when you, still in shock and heart pumping with adrenaline, put your frantic energy into nervous ramblings and fretting over his bruises— making sure you were okay before he left was part of his job. But one visit to your apartment turned into two, and two turned into three, each under the guise of ‘checking on your ankle’ or ‘being on his route’. Somewhere along the line your arrangement came to be: he stopped by with wounds needing to be treated, you treated them, and then he’d leave. And if you wanted to make some small conversation, getting to know each other a little more with every visit, that was harmless. Seeking you out for the smallest injuries that he was fully capable of dealing with himself was harmless. Holding you in his arms while you clutched onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt, neglecting his knife wound for far too long in favor of wiping away your tears—

He never meant for things to go this far.

Two days after that night, Jason is still reeling. In hindsight, letting the slice on his arm sit in the open, stale air for as long as it did was not the best idea. Sewing it closed one-handed so as to relieve the burden from your shoulders, taking no care to sterilize the instruments that fell to the floor in his hurry to follow the alarm bells in his head that screamed go! Get out and go! was a horrible idea. Sure, having you kneeled in his lap, pressed against him for the better part of the thirty minutes he spent at your place wasn’t exactly a regret. But was it worth the round of antibiotics and week-long benching ordered by Bruce after he stumbled into the Batcave an hour ago, hastily stitched up by his own hand and running a fever? He can’t decide. Was it worth the consequence of his siblings taking turns covering the patrol route of his city sector during his absence? Definitely not.

Was it worth the sight of you looking up at him, watery-eyed with flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes accentuated by the shine of your tears? The feeling of your hand sliding over his chest?

Maybe.

Maybe he could use the time off, as pointed out by a sneering Timothy, considering he was so stupid as to let his wound fester to the point of infection. He’d be too distracted to give the city his full attention, anyway. He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Tim’s comment earns him a smack to the back of the head from Dick, who promptly kicks Tim out of the room.

“How are you feeling?” Dick stands at Jason’s bedside, arms crossed in concern.

“Same as when you asked me five minutes ago.” Jason wheezes. His pit-enhanced immunity makes the infection symptoms much easier than they could have been, but Bruce still insisted on him staying the whole week for observation. With how much he’s grown since he last used it, his childhood room feels much smaller than he remembers.

“Yeah, but…” Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. His gaze flits to his arm, wrapped in fresh bandages with an ice pack pressed over the stitches. “How…are you?”

“The same as…before,” Jason says, mimicking his brother’s cadence.

Dick sighs, thinking over his next move. He walks to the door, closes it, and pulls Jason’s desk chair to the bedside and sits down.

Jason groans. “Do you really have to—”

“Just humor me,” Dick interrupts. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He takes Jason’s silence as resignation. “Did something happen?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I got stabbed, Dick.”

“Is that all?” There’s a lilt in Dick’s voice.

“What are you implying?” Jason shoots back, though his hoarse throat negates his attempt to sound intimidating.

“Nothing! I’m not implying anything!” Dick leans back in his chair, holding his palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying. You seem…bothered. By something.”

“Yeah, the stab wound.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Dick clears his throat. “If there’s nothing.” He stands, returning the chair to its place. As he’s leaving, though, his hand settled on the doorknob, he hears a rustle of fabric and turns back to Jason. He’s shifting around in his old bed, awkwardly pulling at the comforter and he moves to sit on the edge, staring hard at the red pattern of the blanket while opening and closing his mouth, battling with himself on whether or not he should speak. Dick waits, giving him the time to work it out.

“I think I…” Jason says finally, not looking up from his lap. “I messed up.” He looks very uncomfortable. If opening up wasn’t such a rare occurrence for him, Dick might have found humor in his brother’s embarrassment.

Dick lets go of the doorknob, but doesn’t dare move closer. He knows that Jason’s fight or flight instincts will take hold the second he feels too caged in. “Messed up how?” He asks, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

“With…someone.” Jason forces out the words, cheeks burning as bright as his bedspread. He still refuses to look at Dick, but at the surprised, choked-back sound he makes at the admission, Jason’s face snaps up to his. Dick is disguising his shock as a cough into his fist, but his wide eyes are unmistakable, even behind the curtain of thick hair falling over his eyes.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

“Is it?” Jason says, squinting at his brother.

“No, I mean—not that you—” Dick sighs, running a hand down his face and deciding to abandon that train of thought altogether. “What happened?”

“I sort of…left. Abruptly.” Jason rubs at the growing stubble on his jaw. “Like— like after…” He trails off, hoping Dick will get the idea.

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

“Is it serious?” He asks through a stiff smile.

Jason, ever oblivious to the silent breakdown his brother is having at the door, is not sure if he’d describe what you two have as serious. He knows you fairly well, knows what you do from the nights you talk about what’s going on at work; what you like from the posters and trinkets you have hung up around your place. And yeah, you talk sometimes. He may not speak that much around you, and it’s usually just frustrated complaints about the other bats, but it’s certainly more than he speaks to most people outside his family. And he sees you more often than he does most people outside his family. And he feels more comfortable with you than—

“Jason,” Dick calls, pulling him from his thoughts. “Is it serious?” He asks again, though there’s a quirk in his brow that suggests he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” is what Jason settles on.

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, a few days ago?” Jason says, even though he knows that’s a lie. It was 45 hours and 26 minutes ago, to be precise, but he doesn’t say that. He’s not sure how it would be received.

“You can’t go back? Just try to apologize?”

He wants to see you again, but he can’t. Doing so in the first place only put you in danger, and he was an idiot for ignoring that. If the wrong person had seen the Red Hood making consistent visits to the same window of the same building? His stomach turns at the thought.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you. He felt like an asshole, picturing you coming back to the bathroom with his mug in hand, only to be met with an empty room and scattered first aid supplies on the floor. He didn’t even leave through the living room, like he entered, because you were in the kitchen. He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

“I’m not sure she wants to see me.” Jason says quietly.

Dick answers thoughtfully; “Did she tell you that, or are you just making assumptions?”

Jason sighs. “Shit.”

“But, actually,” Dick winces. “You do have to stay here for the whole week, so…”

Jason lets out a tired groan and drops his face into his palms.

“Maybe call her?” Dick offers. He gathers the conversation is over from the way Jason glares at him, and turns to leave. But when he’s halfway out the door, he turns back. “Hey, Jaybird?”

Jason lifts his chin.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Jason blinks. It’s now that he realizes what Dick thought he was talking about and it burns him, leaving his skin red-hot.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—” He cuts himself off with a yelp, leaping out of the doorway to dodge the projectile pillow thrown at his head.

Jason hears a ‘good talk’ from the end of the hall, but is too busy with brand new concerns about his situation with you. If he could call you, he would, but he doesn’t have your number. He could easily find it, but not while he’s confined to this bedroom; he’d need access to his gear at home. And with the entire manor breathing down his neck for the next week, there was no way he’d be able to sneak out. So he’d have to wait an entire week before coming to see you again.

Maybe showing up at your place two days after the ordeal would have you understandably hurt, but nine days? You were going to be pissed. You are pissed.

Not at the Red Hood. You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got. You sobbed into his shirt like an idiot for who knows how long. You practically felt him up. You’re an idiot for not thinking that would make him uncomfortable. And now, he’s never coming back, and you can’t even blame him!

There’s a book on your coffee table with a bookmark near the end that’s been staring at you since that night. That night when you, more consumed with confusion than anything else, dumped two mugs of fresh tea in the sink and flopped down on the couch and…waited. For what, you had no idea. The cover art took up your entire field of vision while you lied to yourself, saying you weren’t stealing glances at the window, hoping for a certain body to appear in the frame.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

I hate you so much, you had murmured into a nasty bruise on the back of his left shoulder one night, though you couldn’t stop the grin that broke through the words.

What did I do? He replied, turning to look at you over his shoulder. 

You never told me that would happen halfway through, you said, forcing a frown when you looked up at him.

He chuckled. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to spoil it for you.

Through the amusement there was a lull in your usual rhythm. He did not need to ask which part of the book you were complaining about. He knows, knows you well enough to understand that you would be angry, reading about a budding, hopeful love that’s marred by the revelation that the boy and the girl will not make it. That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

You turned him around, ready to focus on the small abrasion at his temple when he asks, forgive me?

Fine, I guess so, you said, standing on your toes to get closer to his head.

That night replayed in your mind too often. The way he moved a ghost of an inch closer to lean into your fingers. The smell that was purely him in the grime and sweat in his hair when you pushed it back from his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t notice the extra second you lingered, fingers threaded into those streaks of white. You always wondered if they would feel different than the rest of his hair. They didn’t. They were just as soft. You wondered if anyone else knew that. You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

(No one needed to know that you revisited that night with such frequency, either, in the middle of the night hidden under layers of blankets and darkness with nothing but your hands and imagination. You’d take that to the grave.)

Perhaps, deep down, there was a small part of you that wished he would turn up at your window again, this time armed with reasonings and apologies.

There was an emergency.

My team needed me.

I didn’t want to leave.

But after five days of radio silence, there’s not much you can do except take the hint.

You go about your normal routine, trying your hardest to push him out of your mind. Things at work are steady, your position intact and safe from usurping coworkers. You resign yourself to a fate of friends with questionable compassion, grateful to have any at all, and call up your best friend to smooth things over. She accepts, moving on to squeal about her boyfriend’s friend that she’s been dying to set you up with. You reluctantly agree to a double date somewhere down the line, but start preparing excuses and illnesses in the back of your mind.

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

(So maybe you still held out a small flicker of hope. What matters now is that you’re here, ready to return it and blow out that flame.)

There’s one person ahead of you when you fall into line at the front desk. He makes easy conversation with the librarian while she scans his library card; judging by the waves he garners from other passing staff, he must be popular around here.

“Thanks again, you’re the best,” he says, taking the book she hands him.

“Oh, of course,” the librarian gushes, a faint rouge coloring her face. “You let me know how you like that one.”

“I will.”

He turns around, halting suddenly to stop himself from walking into you. You mutter out an apology, ready to move past him, but he stares at you, saying nothing. His large hand tightens its grip on an old and worn book. The ends of jet black strands peek out from under a red beanie and he searches you with wide, teal eyes, mouth agape like he wants to speak. He’s looking at you like he’s been looking for you for ages, and he can’t believe you’re here.

“Hi,” he says, sounding a little breathless.

“Hi.” You clutch your book tighter against your chest, not knowing what to make of this man. It draws his eyes lower and he sees the title.

“Hi,” he says again. Then; “I— I was wondering. About that book.” He nods toward it. “I’m, uh, thinking about reading it. What did you think?”

“Oh,” you exhale. “I actually never finished it. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he echoes. His face falls, but only for a moment, before returning to a neutral expression. “Okay, sorry.”

He brushes past, leaving you addled in his wake, but also next in line. The librarian flashes you a glare when the book is scanned in as one week late. Sheepishly, you pay the fine and watch as it gets rolled away on a re-shelf cart, the last of your connections to the Red Hood rolling along with it.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

remember after the last part when i said "ignore how his open would is just sitting there marinating"? well i figured out how to amend that👍 idk why i feel like this is so short i tried to write more but yk how it is the story goes the way it wants to i am but the messenger. i've been experiencing mad writer's block this past couple of weeks please pray for me🙏🙏🙏

listen to the inspo song!!!

[kitten4sannie]

kitten fever

pairing: cat hybrid husband! sannie x fem! reader

genre: hybrid au, smut

summary: after you put your baby to sleep and head to bed yourself, you come to the discovery that your dear husband just hit his rut and desperately wants to put another baby in you.

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: needy pussydrunk maniac! san, service sub! reader, they’re giving switch energy as well <3, san gets lost in subspace, big cawk sannie, only pet names/praise (baby, mama/mommy (only a few times trust), sweetheart, princess), san likes to be called kitty, san humps reader’s pillow out of desperation, kissing, wet and messy, possessiveness, grinding, nipple play (f/m receiving), lactation kink (muahahahaha), face sitting that turns into a 69, oral (f/m receiving), good ol fashioned unprotected missionary, heavy breeding kink, bulge kink, knotting, creampie, just so, so much cum……

a/n: i did a poll a lil while back to ask what vibe everyone wanted for sannie’s bday fic and soft, sweet love making with husband sannie won by a landslide ~~ but ofc i had to add my lil spin to it and made him a hybrid husband in heat hehe <33 i wrote this all in one go just rn bc i’m a ✨chronic procrastinator✨ so i had less time to perfect it but i hope it’s just as enjoyable as my other fics 🥹🫶🏼 that being said, enjoy lovelies~

song rec: same dream, same mind, same night by svt (this is a love making song and you cannot convince me otherwise 🙂‍↕️) - sex on fire by kings of leon - terrible love by boston manor (“tell me i’m everything you want~ tell me you need me~ give it everything you’ve got, so give it all~” <33)

“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry, mama’s gonna sing you a lullaby,” you cooed gently in a sing-song voice to the sweet angel laying still inside her crib, continuing your soft serenade until her eyes closed, surrendering to another night of much needed rest after a long day of adventure and learning, her tiny fingers slowly releasing the grip they had on one of yours, her tiny fluffy tail uncurling from your wrist. When you saw that your babygirl had fallen asleep, you gave her a loving kiss on the forehead, before exiting the bedroom and heading to your own.

It had taken a fair amount of time to get your baby to go to sleep, making you wonder if your husband had fallen asleep himself while he was waiting for you to come back. He must’ve been tired, especially after how worked up he was during the day, zooming around the house to get chores done despite there not being a rush, not even giving you the opportunity to make dinner either when he put his signature ‘kiss the cat’ apron on, and somehow still having the energy to run a few miles on his treadmill afterwards, claiming he still had the zoomies.

As soon as you cracked open the door, you could hear whimpering and soft, breathy panting coming from deeper inside the low lit room, a few candles burning away on your respective nightstands. Poor, sweet Sannie was probably having a nightmare of some sort. You would have to wake him.

“Baby, nnngh, need you, need you so bad, wanna be inside you, need to give you more kitties,” San voiced desperately to no one, hunched over and driving his heavy, leaking cock back and forth across the plush, pre-cum stained pillow that was kept on your side of the bed, his sweaty raven bangs sticking to his forehead, his tufted ears splayed out in opposite directions. He lowered his head further to take in your warm, flowery scent, letting out an instinctive growl and bucking his hips forward until he began to emit little breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’s’. He slowly dragged his throbbing cock along the feathered pillow, leaving thick, milky cum shots onto the previously pristine material. “Cummingggg, filling you up so deep, mama, it won’t stop….”

Well, it seems like you wouldn’t have to wake him. Your husband was already wide awake and seemingly trying to impregnate your pillow. You entered the room and closed the door behind you, causing San to look up at you with big boba eyes, his ears now on high alert, sheepishness overtaking his blushing features and a gentle, understanding one forming on yours. “Oh, my sweet Sannie, is this why you were so active today? Are you in a rut?”

San tried to cover up the evidence he left all over your pillow, his long fluffy tail curling shyly around one of his bare legs, his stained briefs riding up a bit near his inner thighs. “I-i didn’t wanna tell you because it’s hard for me to control myself when I’m like this…I can only think of one thing…”

You took a few steps forward until you were standing at the foot of the bed, hovering over San, your hands already making their way to his overheated face to caress it. “And what is that, kitty?”

San just about melted into your touch, his hot breath fanning over your skin when he sighed, gazing up at you past his fluttering lashes. “Breeding my beautiful wife…” he whispered softly, turning his head to press a lingering kiss into the palm of your hand. “I want to make love to you….feel and taste every single inch of you…remind you why you’re mine…” He whimpered, closing his eyes for a second, before they returned to you, his eyebrows upturned with desperation, his glistening lips parted ever so slightly. “I’m burning up just thinking about it…”

You leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto his forehead, then his cheek, leaving one on his trembling lips afterwards. “Then, what are you waiting for, Sannie? Let’s play.”

-

“Baby, your pretty kitty, mmmnn, feels so good,” San panted, breaking the heated, messy kiss you were sharing to moan from the way you were eagerly grinding yourself on his lap, his hardened cock pressing up directly into your slippery, hot cunt, a bit of drool escaping his lips, only for you to lap it up from his chin, before your tongue repeatedly swirled around his. “Wanna knot you…”

“Not yet, Sannie….wanna have more fun with you first…” When San began to whimper and squirm around, you reached past his head to grab onto the headboard with both hands, pressing your forehead to his to keep him locked in on you. “You wanna feel me all over, yeah?” You moved your hips in a more precise motion, the pronounced edge of his cockhead catching onto your clit each time your cunt dragged up and down his length, making the both of you let out a collective moan. You lifted up your body a bit so that your heavy tits were bouncing ever so slightly in his face, watching as your husband fell into a trance. “Wanna taste me too, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, mama, wan’ it all,” San nodded drunkenly, repeatedly licking at his lips and fangs, bringing his hands up to your tits to feel the weight of them, squeezing into them slightly, his tail quickly slamming against the side of the bed as though he were a dog. He knew they were filled with milk, and it drove him absolutely nuts.

How adorable. Your kitten was too predictable. You pressed your tits together, holding them near his pretty blushing face. “Does kitty need milk?”

“Yes, please!” San opened his mouth up just in time for you to press your chest into his face, his lips closing around one of your nipples, licking and sucking at it until he began to taste the sweet essence of your milk. Deep purrs reverberated from his chest and throat, clearly content, letting go of one tit to focus on the other, pinching your nipple to watch as your milk spurted out of it and landed on his small pink tongue.

“Nnngh, that’s good, baby…” Humming, you ran your fingers through your husband’s soft hair as he gently coaxed more of the milkiness out of your tits one by one, eventually reaching down to rub your thumbs over his nipples, rolling them in circles until he began to let out muffled moans and whimpers. “Sannie’s so sensitive, hm? Even more sensitive now that he’s in a rut…so desperate for Mommy’s kitty.”

San gulped your sweetness down, a few drops dribbling down his chest, before he gasped at the sensation of you pinching his sensitive buds. “Y-yes, Sannie wants to be inside mama so bad….” He nibbled on one of your puffy nipples, dragging his rough tongue over it just to hear you whine, looking up at you to take in your suddenly submissive gaze. “My pretty girl’s sensitive too, I take it.”

“Always, because of that tongue of yours…” you murmured, digging your nails into the headboard when he forcefully pushed your tits together and ran his tongue back and forth over your nipples, biting them with his fangs for good measure.

“S-sannie…!”

When San felt a fresh wave of slick leak out onto his lap, his eyes started to narrow into slits, his instinctive urge to dominate you beginning to slip past the surface of his hazy mind. “So wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? It’s all going to waste too….Such a shame…”

“Wanna lick it up, kitty?” you asked sweetly, bringing your lips down to his, tasting the sweetness of your milk on his moving tongue.

“Mm. Sit on my face, princess,” he commanded in a slightly deeper tone, waiting for you to climb off of him so that he could lower himself down onto the bed. Just as you faced away from him and lifted your leg up to go over him, San grabbed you by your soft hips and pulled you down onto his face, immediately getting to work.

San dipped his tongue between your slick lips and dragged it up, painfully slow at first, so that he could savor your warm taste, licking a long stripe toward and then over your clit. He repeated this action until all that could be heard in the room was his wet tongue coming in contact with your soaking cunt, along with the groans he was letting out with each lick. Opening his eyes to admire your pretty plush pussy, he pressed a kiss onto your bud, before sucking on it with varying degrees of intensity, reveling in the way his pretty wife moaned desperately for more. “That’s it, huh, babygirl? Your pussy’s getting so messy, you must be getting close already….”

“F-fuck, yes, I’m close…don’t stop, Sannie,” you sighed out, suddenly distracted by the sight of your husband’s throbbing cock standing at full attention between his thighs. Licking at your lips, you carefully lowered yourself down until you could slurp and suck the pre-cum that pooled out of his reddened cockhead with ease, opening your mouth wide enough to take most of his cock down your throat inch by inch.

“Oh my god, baby, I won’t last if you do that….” San tossed his head back for a second, temporarily losing himself to the pleasure of having his cock buried inside the hot, wet heaven of your mouth and throat, moaning hoarsely all the while. Feeling more of your slick drip onto his heated skin, he remembered about his current mission. Once his tongue returned to your dripping slit, you started to rock your hips in time with San’s lips, your clit even bumping against your husband’s nose, your thighs beginning to tremble.

You took San’s cock down your throat as deep as it would go, using your spilling saliva to jerk off the rest of his length that you couldn’t reach with your mouth, hearing him begin to emit muffled whimpers and curses against your pulsing cunt, feeling his thighs tighten up underneath your touch.

You continued to move in sync, your hips now desperately rocking against San’s splayed out tongue, your moans playing a hypnotic rhythm. You always seemed to fall into this matching pattern of giving and receiving, losing yourselves in each other’s love and pleasure. Just as you began to squirm around, San’s hands slipped from your thighs where they were previously squeezing to your waist, wrapping them tightly around your middle to keep you still as your release poured out onto his tongue.

“Sannieeee, so good, so good, gonna cum,” you whined out once you pulled yourself off of his cock, your lips connected to the sticky tip with a few strands of milky saliva.

“Me too, baby, me too. Fuck, take it for me, okay? Be good and take it all,” San moaned against your convulsing cunt, lapping up the rest of your arousal, just as he began to shudder, forcefully tossing his head back into his pillow.

You caught the seemingly endless stream of cum on your tongue, some of it shooting into the back of your throat. You swallowed it all without hesitation, before climbing off of him and leaning down to press your lips onto his.

He eagerly kissed you back, gently lowering you down onto the mattress so that he could climb on top of you, the both of you desperately exchanging your warm arousal with one another, only breaking the dizzying kiss when neither of you could take a proper breath. “I love you, Y/N…” he whispered near your cheek.

“I love you too, San…”

Gazing deeply into your half-lidded eyes, San gently lowered his body weight onto you, not having to ask to know what you both needed when he positioned himself near your entrance and slipped right in, the both of you moaning in unison.

“Ready for my litter, baby? I’m gonna fill you up over and over, okay? I won’t stop until you tell me to…” Saliva pooled in San’s mouth as a low, deep purr rumbled inside his chest. Part human or not, your husband’s cat-like traits still made themselves present when he was sheathed inside you like this, especially now that he was in a rut.

“Yes, give it all to me, Sannie, I want your kitties,” you begged breathlessly, hardly able to think now that you were getting stretched out by your husband’s thick length, your legs hooking around his small waist once he began to recklessly drill himself into you.

“I’ll give it all to you, baby, have it all, have all of me.” Huffing and puffing, San pounded his cock into you, slipping out a few times due to how incredibly wet you were, taking the time to slap his cock down onto your abdomen, just to show the both of you how his length just about reached your ribs, watching you swallow hard, your hazy, tear filled eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I can take it, Sannie. I can, I promise,” you reminded him gently, just as he slipped back inside you, pounding your pussy as if he had never stopped.

“Yes, you can, you’re gonna take it all, because you’re mine, mine, mine,” San groaned out near your ear like a mantra, his heavy body flush against yours, your legs hanging off of his broad shoulders, slamming his cock into you like you were just a toy, your cunt taking it like you were made specifically for him, his tail wrapped tightly around one of your ankles, almost acting as an anchor to keep the both of you from slipping out of reality.

“Yours, yours, yours…” you chanted back, your nails starting to dig and rake down his back, starting to fade away once your high rapidly took over. “Sannieeee, give me your knot, please…”

Almost as if on command, San’s knot began to form inside your cunt, stretching you out to the max. He pulled back slightly so that he could press his hands into your abdomen, feeling just how thick and heavy his cock was inside of you. “That’s my good girl…Look at you….my pretty little wife, taking all of my knot like this. It’s gonna break and your womb’s gonna be flooded with my cum, you know…You wanna get knocked up again for me, baby?”

“Mm-hmm!”

He nosed at your neck, taking in your pretty scent, whispering, “Help me breed you, baby.”

“Breed me, kitty….Make me yours forever…” You clutched your hands into his waist and pulled his hips taut to yours, your cunt clenching around his cock just as San melted into you, whispering countless promises of love, mixed with involuntary curses into your ear, the dam finally breaking.

A short, broken cry tore out of your throat as you squirted onto San’s twitching cock, endless waves of hot cum pouring out past your cervix and filling your womb up with his potent seed, rendering you vulnerable to the very real possibility of impregnation by your dear hybrid husband. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Purring, San pulled you into his arms and began to lick at the tears that had stained your flushed cheeks, grooming you in his own special way. He nuzzled into you, his tail coiling protectively around one of your wrists, his lips ghosting along your jaw, one of his twitching ears tickling your own. “We’ll have to paint our baby girl’s room half blue if we end up having a boy.”

You giggled, nuzzling into your husband’s loving touch. “Bold of you to assume we won’t have another girl.”

San smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling with love and adoration for you. “That’s fine. I’m a girl dad, after all.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

"𝐌𝐫. 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧" - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝙳𝚊𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚢𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝟸𝙺 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: @proxy-princess

⚠️ spoilers in the warnings ⚠️

warnings: pet names, jealous!rafe, possessive!rafe, best friend’s dad, older!rafe, ownership kink, swearing, threats, begging, praise, brief unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, teasing, edging, the reader was drinking at the bar but is not drunk, Sofia as the wife, cum play, creampie, rafe slaps the reader, brat taming

💌 𝓐𝓼𝓴: Ooooooo what about fatherfigure!Rafe, with edging because we didn't listen to him while we were out with friends

⭐️unedited⭐️

3.2K

Reader’s POV:

If looks could kill, Mr. Cameron’s gaze would do it. He insisted on Spring Break being a family affair—him, his perfect wife Sofia, and the twins. We were too old for this shit… Getting babysat at the bar in Cancun, but he wouldn’t allow it any other way.

The crowded club is a barrage of neon lights as the music beats on, hammering in your chest. The Spring Break energy was thick, palpable, feeding you, leaving you feeling like you didn’t have a care in the world. Your short dress clings to your skin, sticky with humidity, swaying with every twirl and grind of your hips. Your body’s loose; head light, buzzing from the tequila you and Elise downed at the bar earlier.

The song changes, making Elise screams with delight as they play your song, twirling around, her toffee-colored hair sticking to her dewy skin. You look over your shoulder, clocking your chaperone, staring, nursing the same whiskey he’s been sipping since you told him you were going to dance. Rafe relaxes in the both a little more, his gaze unwavering, not casual or protective as usual. Something different entirely. His gaze is intense, dark, and lingering.

You test his intentions, turning around, giving him a glance at your dress from the front: low-cut and tight. An outfit begging the wordless question from Rafe earlier in the night at dinner, ‘were you really gonna go out like that?’ His gaze condescending at the time, now you know the real reason as his hungry eyes rake up your bare legs, studying the curves of your hips, getting lost in your cleavage before matching your eyes.

“Best trip ever!” Elise screams over the music, pulling your attention back to her as she continues to dance, utterly oblivious to her dad’s focus. The crowd thickens around you, making it harder to see him. But no matter how many people stood between the two of you, you couldn't help but escape the heat of Rafe’s eyes stealing glimpses between bodies, his cerulean stare drilling into your back.

You look toward the bar, smiling as you see another set of eyes on you: a young, devilishly handsome frat boy wearing his letters on a weathered snapback. Nowhere near as hot as Mr. Cameron. He smiles back at you, leaning back into the bar, his striped button-down shirt pulled across his gym-toned chest. He yells something at his brothers, gesturing toward you on the dance floor. His smile widens as he weaves through the dense crowd with his friends, pushing closer and closer. You glance back toward Rafe, as he watches the scene before him. His ringed hand wraps tighter around his glass, knuckles white; jaw clenched as he follows the boy's guide straight to you and Elise. Rafe matches your gaze, a knowing smirk curling on your glossy lips. Well, well, well. Sofia leans in, tilting her sleepy head on his shoulder, and you swear you can see his body recoil from her touch.

You spin Elise under your finger, grinding to the beat, baiting the frat boy closer. “Hey,” he yells over your shoulder. “You’re stunning.” Your eyes lift to his, giving him your sweetest smile, just stoking the fire. The two of you start to dance, shifting closer and closer. You turn around, pressing your ass into him, guiding his hands to rest on your hips as the two of you move together, the angle of your body giving you the perfect view of your best friend’s dad.

Rafe looks like he could crawl out of his skin, every fiber of his being holding himself back from charging out on the dancefloor himself, dragging you out of the bar entirely, but he can’t do that. What the fuck are you gonna do about it, Mr. Cameron? Elise melts into her frat boy, lips locking mere seconds after meeting him, making you laugh dizzily.

“Fuck,” the boy behind you groans as you grind your ass into his clothed cock, heart racing as the liquor courses through your veins. You smile, turning your cheek into him, riding a high off Rafe watching on. You glance toward the booth, eyeing Rafe shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His muscular chest rises and falls, controlled breaths as he tries to contain his feelings around his wife. His attention hasn’t faltered; if anything, it’s gotten sharper. The man is about to risk it all and fast.

You hook your hand around the boy's neck, pulling him closer, coaching his movements. His lips press against your neck just like you were hoping. Your head falls back on his chest, fucking with Mr. Cameron completely. Rafe takes a sip of liquor, slamming the glass down, making you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You give Rafe a wink before spinning around, wrapping your hands around the pretty boy’s neck.

”Yo,” Elise’s brother Rex reaches out for your arm. You look in his direction, and he smiles, gesturing toward the door. ”Let’s go.”

”What?” Elise gasps as she pulls away from her frat boy’s lips, looking back at her twin brother in annoyance.

“Dad says it’s time to head back to the condo. Our car is here.”

Elise groans dramatically, tossing her head back in protest. “Fuck no, Rex. Tell him ‘no’. He can’t be serious. It’s not even that late.”

“You can tell your dad we’re not ready to leave yet. I’m sure these guys will get us back to our place safe and sound. Isn’t that right?” You coo.

“That’s right,” the frat boy pulls you closer, burying himself in your neck as his hands fall down your body, resting dangerously low.

“We’re having fun,” Elise adds. “Tell dad to ‘fuck off,’” she snickers, knowing that’s the last thing that Rex will say, getting the point across nonetheless.

Rex groans in annoyance, his patience with the two of you thinning. “He’s not gonna like that.”

“Yeah?” You laugh. “Well, he doesn’t like much, so…” Rex rolls his eyes, trudging back through the crowd toward his parents as the two of you start dancing again. You gaze at Rafe, feeling his frustration from across the bar. ”Shots?” You ask.

”Shots!” Elise answers with a smile. Your crowd moves toward the bartop, pushing through the masses. You rest your hands on the rail, leaning in slightly to get the bartender's attention. The frat boy moves in behind you, resting his chest against your back, leaning close to whisper something in your ear that you didn’t quite catch, you, laughing nonetheless.

You look to the left, watching Rex deliver the news to his dad—Rafe’s nostrils flare, brows pinched in anger. He raps his signet ring against the tabletop, planning his next move. His eyes lock on yours. “Let’s go.” He forms the words.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk, rolling your eyes like a rebellious teen. “No,” you mouth back.

Rafe hangs his head, shoulders heaving with a deep sigh before he returns his eyes to you. “You know him?” The frat boy asks, picking up on the exchange that Elise was too drunk to notice, making your stomach fall. The reality of the situation sinking in for the first time.

“Not important,” you smile, resting your hands on his.

“The fuck, man?” The boy behind you spits as a large hand wraps around your arm.

“Let’s go,” Rafe clips, his tone low and commanding, barely audible over the music but firm enough to send your stomach fluttering.

“Can we help you?” The frat boy steps to Mr. Cameron, putting space between the two of you, making your heart race.

“Hey, baby,” you smile; the pet name making Rafe's eyes widen in disbelief. “I know him. He’s Elise’s dad.” You rest your hand on his chest and your head on his shoulder. “We’re not ready to leave, sir.”

“Now,” Rafe warns, his voice sharper than ever, leaving no room for argument.

“Well, Mr. Cameron. You’re not my father. So… If you’d like Elise to leave, that’s a conversation you need to have with your daughter. Not me.”

Before he can respond, Elise stumbles between the two of you, drink in hand, sloshing a little on her dad’s designer shirt. “Dad, what the hell? Just go. We’re fine. We. Are. Fine,” she slurs. “We don’t need you to babysit. Don’t you trust us?” She pouts, but Rafe doesn’t care about hurt feelings; his eyes trained on you as you assure the handsome frat boy beside you that Elise’s dad is just overprotective.

Mr. Cameron eases his tone, taking a new angle entirely, leaning into the bar to get closer to you. “It’s not safe here, princess.” Butterflies swirl in your stomach as that term of endearment falls so easily from his lips and fuck does it sound good. “M’not askin’.”

The bartender sets the shots in front of you, giving you the perfect opportunity to brush Rafe off. You can see Mr. Cameron out of the corner of your eye as you lift the clear liquor to your lips, his sharp jawline coiled as he loses complete control over the situation. You toss the shot back, eyes pinching shut as you swallow quickly. You look in Elise’s dad’s direction again, rolling your eyes as you see Sofia’s hand resting on his shoulder, Rafe’s mother’s ring glinting on her bony finger in the lights of the Mexico club. She looks up at him lovingly, her warm eyes soft, oblivious to the storm brewing.

“Rafe, let’s head back to the condo. Let the kids have their fun.” Mr. Cameron stands there unmoved, lip-twitching in a fury. “Come on,” Sofia soothes, using her calm tone to temper his overprotectiveness to no avail. “Elise and y/n will be fine. They’re adults. Remember?” She chuckles teasingly.

“Cheers?” Elise calls over to you as she passes you another drink, trying to ease the tension.

“Cheers, baby!” You squeal, turning your attention to your best friend, paying no mind to the man stewing behind you. No doubt getting dragged away by his wife as you tip back another.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Elise laughs as she looks toward the exit, giving you an excuse to look as well. Rafe final gaze is your last warning. This is far from over.

The condo is quiet, the only sound from the open window as the ocean roars below. You look down at your phone, seeing your best friend's message letting you know she was safe with her new friend, forming a plan to sneak back into your place before sunrise.

You lay under the covers, heart beating a little quicker than usual, knowing what would happen any moment. You snuggle under the crisp cotton sheets, hiding away your surprise for him. Your outfit wasn’t practical, and it wasn’t meant for sleep. Your outfit was for one person and one purpose. The salty breeze slips through the room, rustling the light white curtains. You look up at the ceiling, smiling to yourself. Whatever came next, it wasn’t going to be on your terms.

CREAK.

Footsteps—soft and deliberate, the sound moves closer and closer. You try your best to snuff out the smile playing on your lips. The sound of Rafe’s measured strides grows louder and closer; your quickened heartbeat is now racing. The door to your room cracks slightly before opening. You let out a little yawn, rolling your head to the side, meeting his darkened eyes. Rafe’s big body filling the doorway.

You flutter your lashes, playing innocent instead of defiant. “Mr. Cameron?” You ask sweetly as you prop your body up enough to have the sheet slip off your lace-clad breasts. Rafe’s hand clamps over his mouth, rubbing away something. Maybe it's a smile seeing you this way, but either way, he’s shocked. “What’s wrong?”

Rafe steps through the doorway, shutting and locking the door behind him. He doesn’t answer, holding together his last shred of composure as he takes a deep breath. “You think this is funny?” He asks, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

You tilt your head slightly, lips pouted as you look up at him, bewilder and naive. “Funny? What do you mean?” You beat your lashes, your doe-eyed act in full force. “Did I do something to upset you, Mr. Cameron?”

He lets out a deep, gravelly laugh, not buying a second of this little act you were putting on. His hands cross over his broad chest, biceps straining the sleeves. He walks to the edge of the bed, looking down at you, binding his hand around the headrail, looming over you ominously, resisting the urge to put his hands on you. “You know exactly what you did,” he chides through gritted teeth. “Pushin’ me with that fuckin’ dress. Dancing with that boy at the club. Taunting me all night long.”

“You didn’t like my dress?” You ask dumbly.

“You’re not dense,” he snaps. “Stop actin’ like it. Shit doesn’t suit you.” Rafe leans in, his forearm flexing as he twists his hand around the metal, his other tracing up the bed, moving closer and closer. “N’you’re still doin’ it,” he mumbles needily as his rough finger dusts over the lace cup over your lingerie, making your nipple harden under his touch.

Your fingers clutch the sheet, pulling it back with your eyes locked on his. His gaze tears away from yours, breath hitching before he can even stop it. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable now; his control over the situation fraying by the moment. His nose scrunches, lips tightening into two straight lines, all but losing that war he was fighting before.

“What the fuck are you doing? Huh?” He hisses.

Your hands fall down your body, guiding his gaze to follow the leader, looping around the lace bands at your hips before tugging them over your thighs. “What do you mean, Mr. Cameron?” You whisper. “M’just getting comfortable.”

“Stop fucking with me,” he warns, his voice cracking with rage and lust as the line between the two blurs. The corners of your lips curl upwards as you widen your thighs on the mattress.

“Too bad you can’t do anything about it. Huh-” Your words sputter out as Rafe’s hand wraps swiftly around your throat, pinning you to your pillows.

“You don’t fuckin’ listen,” he growls, making goosebumps prickle across your skin.

“What are you going to do about it, Rafe?” You choke. His eyes burn into yours, control hanging by a thread. His hold around your neck gets tighter, making your pulse pump in your ears. “Harder, Daddy.”

His eyes roll back and flutter shut, the older man letting out his frustration fast. His hand strikes your cheek, sending your head snapping to the side. You let out a little giggle, as a fraction of the tension releases with the pain. Before you can fully process the moment, he grabs your face in his big hand, pinching your cheeks, forcing your eyes on him. He’s so strong you do all you can, unable to fight his hold, closing your eyes tight.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes,” he shouts. Rafe pushes out a breath in frustration with his outburst. “You don’t get to look away.” Mr. Cameron presses his big thumb between your lips, hooking and pinching harshly, holding down your tongue. You open your eyes to him, making him loosen his hold. You swirl your tongue around his big digit, wrapping your plump lips around him before sucking on his thumb. “You’re a bad girl, testing me like this,” he continues, his tone low and anguished as he observes you.

Without warning, he leans down, lips crashing into yours. The kiss is fierce, demanding, tension-shattering, and full of intent. Rafe’s hands wrap around your body, pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, claiming you as he’s wanted to do all night. He mounts the bed, crushing you under the weight of his big body.

Rafe pulls back slightly, leaving you chasing his lips for more, his heavy, ragged breathing competing with yours. "You're fucking mine," he grunts. “My fuckin’ brat. You needed me to break you. Huh? We’re not doin’ this shit every time. Understand?”

”I understand,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice laced with want. Rafe’s lips contort into a twisted smile as you finally submit to his demands.

“Atta girl,” he drawls as he reaches down, pulling at his pajama bottoms, releasing his long, thick length. “M’gonna make you beg for it,” he mumbles as you whine—his fat tip gliding through your drenched slit, swirling over your throbbing clit.

“You want me, Mr. Cameron. Why not just fuck me,” you plead as you wrap your fingers around his cock, making him hiss out a breath. He grabs your wrist, pulling it off him, forcing you to wrap your fingers around the brass bed rails above you.

"Because I'm not done with you yet," he taunts. “Fuckin’ tease. M’gonna tease you. That’ll show you,” he sneers. “Move your hands and see what the fuck happens.”

You look between your thighs, chest heaving as he starts to thrust through your messy folds, rubbing your clit with every movement. You can hear your cunt squelching as he uses your pussy like a toy, prodding and poking at your entrance, denying you the pleasure of filling you full.

Your thighs start to tremble, a heat building in your belly as you feel yourself about to come undone. You look up at Rafe, the fire burning in his eyes brighter than ever as you tuck your quivering lip between your teeth, holding back your cries of pleasure.

”M’gonna cum,” you snivel as tears gather on your waterline. Rafe looks at you, poking out his lip in that same pout you gave him before.

“Shouldn’t have said that, princess.” Rafe rises on his knees, robbing you of your orgasm, stroking his thick dick, spurting ropes of cum on your aching cunt. You shudder as his sticky load rolls down your slick; sensitivity heightening, making you whimper out a breath at the feeling. Your eyes flutter shut, frustration taking over your being.

“Mr. Cameron,” you breathe, leveling your voice as he pants above you, a smirk painted on his pretty pink lips.

“Baby girl?”

His eyes fall to yours, waiting for what you have to say. “If you don’t give me what I want. I’ll tell your wife. I’ll scream right now. Make sure she knows what a deceitful, whore of a husband she has.”

The threat hangs heavy in the air as Rafe stares down at you, the look in your eyes letting him know you’re not bluffing and he’s hoping you aren’t. “You’re a brat,” he whispers as his hand traces up your body torturously slow. “You really think you can control me. Huh?” You look up at him, nodding as his hand clamps over your mouth, making your eyes widen. “You’re probably right.” Rafe slams his thick cock into your perfect pussy, making you scream against his wide palm, eyes rolling back with his.

[flawssy-227]

The Babysitter | Joel Miller x F!reader

hello :) first time writing/posting a pic in actual years (first time on this blog also). hope you enjoy. please leave some feed back!

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader, no outbreak au! Sarah lives! slight age gap

summary: you baby sit for Joel and the two of you can't keep your hands off each other

warnings: slight age gap, dirty talk, babysitter kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, m!receiving oral, mentions of dicks... I think that's all

word count: 1.9

rating 18+

The sun had long faded in Austin, the only light in the Miller’s living room was coming from the floor lamp and the television, which was on but turned down low so you wouldn’t disturb Sarah. You had just put her to bed at Joel’s request. A short text sent to you earlier, knowing that you’d be babysitting a little longer than normal on Tuesday night.

Gonna be a late one. Sorry princess.

You’d simply given him a ‘thumbs up’, not really minding hanging out with your favorite 8 year old. Your afternoon had been wildly enjoyable with Sarah–she was way too mature for her age and it was probably inappropriate how much you considered her a friend, but whatever, you’ve had a stressful couple of weeks and she was one of the only bright spots. Well, her, and her incredibly attractive father that you sometimes hook up with.

Things with you and Joel were… how should you put it? Complicated? 

You had started babysitting for Joel and Sarah during the first semester of your Master’s program at University of Texas, just a little over a year ago. You and Sarah fell into an easy routine–you would pick her up from school, help her with her homework, and give her some of the feminine energy she was surely missing with only having Joel and her Uncle Tommy around. And you really enjoyed it. You were never one for little kids, and at her age, you were certain she would be annoying as hell to deal with, but nope, Sarah Miller was intelligent and inquisitive, albeit a little headstrong. You admired her, and really respected Joel for doing his best practically on his own.

You and Joel also fell into an easy routine. One night of staying late and sharing beers led to you face down and ass up on his couch and having one of the best orgasms of your life. You both promised each other you would quit, not wanting to complicate anything since you and Sarah had such a close bond, but you quickly broke that promise, again and again and again.

After a few months of hooking up a couple nights a week, Joel told you he was seeing someone–Tess, an age appropriate mom from Sarah’s class and he wanted to pump the brakes on whatever it was the two of you were doing. You acquiesced, begrudgingly, but it was only a few weeks later that Joel said things didn’t work out and you ended up back in his bed, on his couch, and bent over the kitchen counter.

It wasn’t serious between the two of you. You had a lot going on with wrapping up the last semester of your Public Policy Master’s, and he was busy building his business and raising his daughter. But that doesn’t mean you would be opposed to something a little more serious developing. In fact, you were pretty sure you were in love with Joel. But he definitely didn’t need to know that.

You must’ve been completely zoned out as you didn’t hear Joel’s old pickup truck pull into his driveway before he entered his living room and called your name.

“Hey princess,” he said, that deep Texas drawl that made your insides melt flowing easily from his pouty lips. “How’s Sarah?”

“Perfect, as always.” You glanced up from the couch shooting a smile his way.

God, he loved your smile.

“She helped me make dinner and then we did her homework. I deep conditioned her hair, too,” you added. “You know, you gotta take her to a salon once in a while, Joel. You know, one that knows about black hair?” You had been bugging him that the 15-in-1 monstrosity he calls shampoo he and Tommy use would not work on Sarah’s curls.

Joel smirks to himself, absolutely loving the way you care about his daughter. “I’m workin’ on it, darlin’.”

A comfortable silence hits the room and Joel goes to his fridge to grab two beers. Your gaze is back on the TV, some old episode of Law & Order playing that barely has your attention.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, reaching for the beer without looking at him.

“Had a date.”

“Tommy Miller has a date? Now that is surprising.” You giggle as you take a sip of your beer. Joel tracks the way your throat looks as you swallow.

He takes his time to take in what you’re wearing. A sweater that tapers around your waist perfectly and a short black skirt. You look sexy, effortless. Joel realizes you always do. Like everything you wear is custom just for you.

“Is this how you dress for work, darlin’?” He lets his large fingers play with the edge of your skirt, barely grazing over your skin. “Kinda slutty,” he adds, smirking at your surprised face.

You school your features quickly and he knows he’s screwed by the sickeningly sweet smile that graces your face. You quickly place your beer on the coffee table in front of the couch and turn to face Joel. “Me? Slutty? No, Mr. Miller, I’m a good girl.”

Joel eyes you from head to toe so slowly that you feel little bursts of heat crawling over your skin. He frowns at you playfully, groaning exaggeratedly as he takes another draw from his beer. “Don’t know about that, princess. Good girls don’t wear slutty little skirts like this to work.” His hand slides up your skirt and grazes over the damp slit of your underwear before he tugs them down your legs. The low whistle he lets out sends a chill down your spine. 

“And good girls definitely don’t wear tiny little panties like this to work.” He brings your thong to his nose, lewdly taking a deep inhale that only makes your wetness grow greater. “Dirty girl,” he sighs out. “Trying to seduce your boss?”

You moan at the sight of him, it was so debauched, so dirty, but it only made you more eager to fall into whatever role play this was. 

“No, Mr. Miller, I would never try to seduce you. I promise I’m a good girl,” you plead. You watch as he absentmindedly toys with your damp thong, running his other hand over his growing bulge. You get an idea that’s going to drive Joel wild.

“Can I show you, Mr. Miller?” you ask, earning a quirked brow from Joel. “Can I show you just how good of a girl I am?”

Joel groans at how easily you fell into this dynamic tonight, not necessarily what he had planned when he came home. He spreads his legs and pats his thighs, “Yeah baby, show me how good you can be.”

You eagerly hop off the couch, taking a throw pillow with you and placing it on the ground and kneeling on it in between his legs. You let your hands rub across the tops of his thighs and give him a wide eyed look that he would almost call innocent if he didn’t know you better. You reach for the zipper of his jeans, grazing your fingers over his bulge before you pull his hard cock out and sigh dreamily. Joel definitely had the best looking dick you’ve ever seen.

Growing impatient at your slow pace, Joel grabs the back of your head and you instinctively stick your tongue out to lick at his tip. You groan at the heady taste of precum on the bulbous head. You slowly start to jerk him off, keeping your mouth only at his tip to tease him.

“You gonna show me how good little babysitter’s suck cock, princess?” he peers down at you, watching how your eyes flutter closed at his words. 

You let out a needy whine. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

You inhale deeply, making debauched eye contact with Joel before you take as much of him as you can down your throat. Joel was big–thick and long in a way that your friends swore you were exaggerating. You’ve taught yourself how to take him down your throat, proud that you were able to go from taking a meager 4 inches of him when you first started hooking up, to now being able to brush against his trimmed hair at the base.

You can taste the sweat from his work day on your tongue as you start to move up and down. Your cheeks hollow out to make a suction and drool is pooling from your mouth. You’re trying not to gag, but the sheer size of Joel makes it damn near impossible. He looks down at you, eyes filled with something a little more than lust as he watches you swallow his cock further into your throat. Spit bubbles are pooling at the side of your mouth and your eyes are glassy with unshed tears. He shuts his eyes tight trying to stave off his orgasm–wanting to enjoy you just a little while longer. You release him with a pop and jerk him off as you start sucking his balls.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Miller?” you ask teasingly, voice already sounding a little hoarse from the exertion.

He looks back down at you, willing himself not to cum. He hums and nods the best he can, scared words will be too much for him.

You shift on your knees, readjusting as you gear yourself up to take him again. Joel thrusts slightly into your mouth, fitting perfectly and you moan around him, the vibrations making him twitch in the back of your throat. You push him deeper into your throat and Joel places his hand on the back of your head in a way that’s less forceful, and more caring. Like he’s just reassuring you that he’s there. He’s making little grunts and moans and you can’t help but drool a mix of your spit and his precum down onto his balls.

You look up at him and see his brown eyes softly looking back down at you. Way too sweet for what you’re doing.

You’re getting sloppier and sloppier, veering towards cock drunk as Joel tells you he’s about to cum.

“Where d’ya want me, baby,” he slurs, in his own fucked out state.

You can’t let up now with Joel being so close to finishing. You bare down, deep throating him to a point that nearly makes you gag, but you will yourself to power through it. Joel starts to thrust into your warm, wet mouth before he moans a little too loud and spills his cum down your throat. 

He’s so deep you barely taste him, only letting yourself up when you feel him relax underneath you.

You both catch your breaths for a moment and after a while, Joel pulls you up from your underarms and sets you over his lap. You almost forgot you weren’t wearing any underwear as your now soaking heat is pressed over his wet cock. Even soft it’s firm and thick. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes heavily. Brown eyes looking down into yours before he kisses you sloppily, tasting himself on your tongue.

You smile appreciatively, dropping your head to his shoulder and smelling the remnants of his cologne from earlier in the day. You’re insanely horny now but happy nonetheless that you made him this fucked out, feeling a surge of confidence at the thought.

“So,” you start, your smile breaking the warm silence between you two, “am I a good girl?”

Joel laughs, rubbing absent minded circles on your back. He thinks he loves you. “Yeah, princess, you’re the best damn girl around.”

**if you made it this far please leave a like, comment, reblog or a dm with some feedback! I want to get back into writing so this was just me dusting off the cobwebs... ty :)

Read more of their story

[miley1442111]

dealing with it- chef luca

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gif from @ wiha-jun

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summary: you see carmen for the first time in years, things happen, but at least your husband is there for you :)

pairings: chef luca x fem! reader, EX carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: smoking, cursing, reader endorses smoking (it makes sense i promise), toxic relationships, fighting, happy ending, luca is a cutie pie, carm is an ass :(

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Carmen had been staring at you the whole night. You, standing diligently beside your mother, and Luca. 

When dinner came and you sat beside Luca again, the question begged to leave his mouth, but he decided on waiting and watching. 

“So Y/n,” Sydney turned to you. “I would love to literally pick your brain apart for the inspo of your last cookbook.”

You chuckled. “Well, Luca and I went all around the world on our honeymoon and-”

“What?” Carmen choked on his drink. “S-sorry did I fucking hear that right? Honeymoon?”

Luca sighed deeply, the energy at the table shifting. “Yes Carm, she said ‘honeymoon’.”

Honeymoon. You and Luca were married. Married and he didn’t even know it. Married, and he hadn’t even known that his last chance had been his last chance. 

You were Chef Andrea’s daughter, and you were everyone’s forbidden fruit. You worked with them, trained with them, and Carmen had been so deeply interested in you, that he broke the rules. He went after you, and he didn’t even feel bad about it. You’d started out dating in secret, then slowly warmed your mom up to the idea, and suddenly it was out in the open. Sure you’d had fights and sure, maybe it wasn’t the most healthy relationship ever, but Carmen loved you. He still did. When it fell apart, it was all Carmen’s fault (as usual) and you’d sworn off chefs. 

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“Fucking hell Bear! I’m asking you to do this one fucking thing for me, and it’s too fucking hard?” You shouted at the top of your lungs. “I love you! I moved to fucking Coppenhagen for you! I moved to fucking New York for you! What is your problem with me taking a job in London?! I can probably get you into the same place-”

“NO! No, I fucking don’t alright? You’re fucking- you’re fucking boring! You never make anything new- you’re so f-fucking obsessed with being the-the-the best at something that you won’t even try to innovate!”

You stood there, in his kitchen and he watched as the tears fell. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, holding your waist in his hands. He tried not to be offended or upset when you went rigid as he touched you, but he felt his heart break. “Baby I-I’m sorry, look, y’know I’m sorry-” 

“You’re a piece of shit Carm. Just because I’m better than you doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like that. We’re not fucking trainees at my mom’s restaurant anymore, alright? I’m fucking better than you and i know it boils your fucking blood. I got this position. All on my own,” you spat. “You are the lowest of the low Carm. I swear to fucking god, if I ever date another chef again, kill me.”

And with that, you walked out. Out of his apartment and out of his life. 

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“W-wait so-s-, you two got married? Since when?” Carmen laughed, but it was wrong. It was forced and haunted, strange.  

“Since the 14th of July last year,” Luca smiled and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Congratulations guys,” Sydney smiled. “Carm, say congratulations,” she whispered and Carm nodded furiously.

“Yeah! Yeah- congratulations to the liar and her shitty douchebag of a husband!” He cheered, gathering the attention of the other tables. 

“Stop making a fucking scene Carm,” your voice cut through the ringing in his ears. “This isn’t about you. This is about my mom, and what this restaurant meant to people. Stop. Being. An. Asshole.”

He felt like he’d been effectively bitch slapped, and he quietened down, but not before kicking Luca under the table. 

They’d both been after you, back in the day. And you’d picked Carm at first, and realised your mistake. When you met Luca in London, you weren’t going to mess it up again. 3 years later, you were a year married, and a lot happier. Too bad Carmen had to make everything about himself, again.

He went out to get some ‘air’ a little while later, and you followed him. 

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

“So…” you sighed, standing beside him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he sighed. He watched as you took a cigarette out and lit it, then offered one to him. He shook his head. 

“You quit?” You asked, blowing the smoke away from him. He nodded. “You should start again.”

He looked at you in confusion. “What?”

“You shouldn’t stop, you’re fucking crazy when you don’t smoke,” you chuckled, though everything you said was true. He’d tried to give it up for a month about 4 months into your relationship and it was the most stressful month of your life. You sighed as you thought about it. Every time he was rude to someone, you apologised for him. Every time he fucked something up, you made it up for him. Every time he did something stupid, you made it smart somehow. It was fucked up how much he relied on you, when you thought about it in hindsight. “Everyone will thank you.”

He laughed. “I guess that was a shitty month, huh?”

“One of the worst of my life,” you admitted. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“I miss it,” He admitted. 

“Smoking? You can have the rest of this pack-”

“Us.”

You sighed. “You were doing so well,” you joked. “Just don’t bring it up Carm, we don’t need to dig up the past.”

“I want to,” he pleaded. 

“I don’t,” you scoffed. “There’s nothing for us to talk about, nothing about us worked, nothing about us was ok, or normal, or happy, or-”

“Does he make you happy?” Carmen asked, venom in his tone. “Does he make you feel fuckin’-fuckin’ butterflies? Does he fuck you like I did? D-does he even see you the way I did? Does he make you laugh?”

“He doesn’t make me cry,” you smiled softly, thinking of Luca and how much you truly loved him. “He doesn’t make me question our relationship everyday. He doesn’t make me feel untalented and undeserving. He doesn’t make me feel used. He met me in London when I was crushed after our break-up, and he healed something he didn’t break in me, alright? He made me feel loved for the first time in a long time. My mom fucking loves him, a lot more than she liked you. He let me take everything at my own pace, and he never pushed me into something I wasn’t ready for. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for me to anyone! He didn’t make me question if we were even dating, ever! And the best part is, he fucking married me Carm, in this gorgeous ceremony where he cried while I came down the aisle and he cried during his vows. Do you want to know what his vows were? Ask him when we get inside, because he got his and mine fucking tattooed on his arm!” You were welling up at this stage. “He stood there with me, through thick and fucking thin, he made me feel loved when I felt unlovable, Carmen. And yes he gives me butterflies, yes he fucks me better than you ever did, and he sees me for who I am. So yes, he makes me very fucking happy Carmen.”

Carmen stood there for a moment, then nodded. “I still love you, you know that, right?”

You scoffed, stamping out your cigarette. “You might want to get over that,” and you turned away, and walked back into the dinner. The rest of the dinner was quick, and you skipped the invite to Sydney’s to retire to your hotel room. You sat on the bed, makeup wipes in hand as you tried to wash the night off of you. 

“Hey darling,” Luca’s soft voice cut through the thoughts clouding your mind. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You smiled as he wrapped you up in a bear hug from behind, he was so perfect, so kind, so Luca. “Sure.”

“I heard a little bit of what you said to Carmy outside.”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before tonight, I was really fucking scared that when you found Carmy he’d somehow convince you I was a piece of shit and he’d sink his fucking claws into you again.”

You pressed a kiss to his arm and nodded. “He’s fucking…”

“He’s the worst,” he finished for you. “And I’m sorry about what he said tonight. He should’ve had the fucking manners to at least let us get to the third course before he started being a piece of shit.”

You both laughed, and you felt all the tension you held in slowly dissipate. “It was so delicious.”

“It was fucking amazing,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You mum really did something special there.”

“At least we’ll see her more in London,” you shrugged. “I really loved that place.”

“So did I,” He sighed against your neck. “Remember training there? God, you were so fucking cute in your chef’s hat-”

“Hats make me look stupid!” You argued, but laughed regardless. You flung his arms off of you, and a wrestling match ensued, one that ended with him under you. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then he deepened it, his hands sneaking up your thighs and around your head. 

“You look good in anything,” he whispered. “But my favourite thing you ever wore was your wedding dress.”

When you pulled away from his lips you saw the starry-eyed smile and sincere look on his face, and you knew you made the right choice. 

Luca was your everything. Carmen was nothing now, and he had to live with that.

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

the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[fuckingrecipes]

Do you have any healthy snack suggestions for someone who isn't a huge fan of nuts and dried fruit?

FIRST: A 'Snack' is just a small portion of food. It is a signifier of quantity. 'Snack' does not exclude any type or form of food - it just means a lil' bit of food.

SECOND: "Healthy" is entirely relative to every individual.

'Healthy' is just 'Supportive of a complete nutritional profile, taking into account a person's existing diet, dietary needs, and habits of energy expenditure'

For example:

A small, greasy hamburger is an EXCELLENT snack for a highschool athlete who needs to consume an large amount of calories every day to maintain their body. It has lots of fat and protein for muscle recovery and long-term energy, carbs for immediate energy, and some lettuce/tomato/onion for some extra fiber/vitamins/minerals.

On the flip side, if someone already eats a fair amount of of meat and carbs already but has a lower-energy lifestyle, a healthy snack for them might entail leafy greens, beans/legumes and vegetables, because they need more fiber and nutrients in their diet that plants have in abundance.

--

If you are allergic to or hate eating something, then it's not healthy to force yourself to eat it anyway. Find a different food, or a different way to prepare it that doesn't cause physical or psychological distress!

Don't like peanuts, but peanut butter is good? Eat peanut butter instead! Hate the texture of whole tomatoes, but tomato sauce is good? Eat tomato sauce instead!

Don't be afraid to finely mince or blend your ingredients into a sauce or smoothie if you feel you need or want to eat something for the nutrients but hate chewing it.

--

I'm a big fan of probiotic stuff in general, like fermented foods (kimchi, pickles, sauerkraut, miso, mustard and yogurts), since a strong bacterial colony in the gut has a positive impact on wellbeing for most folks. More importantly, I love the taste.

Buuuuuuuut~ some people are extra sensitive to compounds that are concentrated in fermented foods. Those people should not eat a lot of fermented foods. It's not healthy for them.

--

If you're munching snacks out of boredom when you're not actually hungry, something low-fat but satisfyingly crunchy usually does the trick for me. Something I can keep devouring for the sensory delight, gives some good nutrients, and won't make me feel overly full afterward.

Carrots, bell peppers, mung bean sprouts, apples, pears, jicama, radish, pretzels, sweet onions, green papaya, broccoli, popcorn, cucumber, water chestnut, seaweed crisps, coconut chips, any of those fermented foods I mentioned... hell, coleslaw is mostly cabbage with oil and vinegar - plow through that and have a great time!

--

If you want a snack because you're hungry, but you just want to tide yourself over until the next meal, eat something that is high in fat and fiber. Fat & Fiber makes you feel full.

Cheese, Yogurt, Butter. Olive oil. Guacamole. Tinned fish. Cream. Fry up an egg. Olives, Hard-boiled eggs - These are all relatively high in fat.

Beans, Legumes, Oats, Leafy Greens, and most Berries are pretty high in fiber, and can pair up with any of the fatty things.

Hell, a slice of cheese pizza is also fine! Buttered toast is fine! A small portion of roast beef from last night's dinner!

Eat a little bit, wait 20 minutes, and see if you're still hungry after that. A normal stomach takes 20-30 minutes to register feeling satiated. (Some people's stomachs don't really feel the difference of hunger vs satiation. Those people need to be more mindful of the quantities of food they eat - both eating too much, AND eating too little!)

--

If you want a snack because salty snacks in particular sound fucking amazing, but other fatty and high-protein foods sound kinda gross, Try chugging a glass of water.

If water doesn't resolve the feeling after giving it a few minutes, try something with salt.

Dehydration and not having enough salt in your body both cause salt cravings. Acute thirst is often mistaken as hunger.

Honestly, you can have a handful of chips. Eating a whole family-sized bag of potato chips in one sitting is probably too much salt & fat for most people, but eating a handful here and there is fine. It's just as morally neutral as eating a carrot.

Eat some rice with soy sauce. Eat some pickled okra, or pickled onions. Eat some miso soup. Drink some soup broth. Have some salt-cured meats.

--

So: A Healthy Snack!

Ask yourself: Am I hungry, bored, or thirsty?

Ask yourself: What have I been eating lately, and what has my diet lacked, or had in excess? (Fats, Protein, Carbohydrates, Vitamins/Minerals, Water, Salt)

Ask yourself: Am I trying to provide my body with a complete nutritional profile, including fats and carbs - or am I focusing on an imagined 'purity' of food and assigning moral value to eating what diet culture calls healthy so I can be 'good.' (Aka: Do you think instances of eating candy or fatty food is 'being bad'? Stop that.)

Ask yourself: Am I able to rely on my body's signals for hunger and thirst, or do I need to manually track this?

Sometimes a snack is a small portion of leftovers from yesterday.

Sometimes a snack is carefully sliced, cooked, and arranged on a cute plate.

Sometimes a snack is gnawing through half a head of cabbage doused in vinegar.

Sometimes a snack is a handful of shredded cheese eaten from your own palm so you become both the gentle horse and the stablehand feeding it, and that's all okay

[cavillscurls]

Thinking about olderboyfriend!joel and reader celebrating all the holidays. Their first Valentine’s Day, their first thanksgiving together, their first Christmas together

this ask is so old, but i thought i’d answer given the nature of today 🥹💌… i don’t have a lot, but here’s some thoughts.

older!boyfriend joel masterlist

you met in the summer, a long ways before that holiday which always seemed to carry a heavier weight than it needed to. this connotation of perfection that hadn’t existed even in the best of your relationships.

but this one is the best. not one of, but the best. and you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that, at times, it does feel perfect.

and you feel good. you feel certain. you have for a while now, but with the impending holiday that always felt more like dread than love, there’s a surge of reassurance when that usual doom never settles in.

you both agreed no gifts. funny enough, it was joel who put up a fight on this front. you could see him practically seething in his shoes, a crinkle in his brow and a pout on his lips as he bargained just one, you don’t gotta get nothin’, and there’s no guilt—just one.

but you shook your head and stood your ground; you would much rather spend the occasion splurging on dinner and drinks, an experience to share between the two of you.

he relented. even agreed to wear a suit—all black, and fuck, if that didn’t make you want to jump his bones on first sight—gelled back his curls, and wore that expensive cologne he saves for special occasions.

he shows up that night thirty-minutes before your reservation, and you’re popping a hand on your hip as soon as you open the door and find him standing there with a bouquet. a dozen red roses.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you huff.

he shrugs. “this ain’t a gift. it’s flowers,” he says, trying to play coy, but you can tell he’s rather proud of himself.

how are you supposed to argue with that?

you accept them, albeit a bit reluctantly, and bring them to your nose with a generous sniff. he’s eyeing you, all of you, the deep crimson dress you’ve chosen leaving little to the imagination. just the reaction you were hoping for.

“thank you,” you tell him, and he reaches out to place a hand at the small of your back, pulling you into his chest so he can lean down and press his lips to your ear.

“you’re welcome, baby,” he rasps, sending a shiver through you, and places a kiss on the side of your head.

dinner is tasty and decadent, made even finer by the company you keep. you split a bottle of red, and make room for dessert—freshly dipped chocolate-covered strawberries. he makes a show of leaning across the table to feed you the first bite, and you laugh so hard, you snort, the steady thrum of wine through your veins keeping you both buzzed and gleeful.

it’s starting to snow when you call a car from the restaurant. he offers an extension to the evening—catch a late showing of the rom-coms you know he can’t stand, but he’d tolerate (and has tolerated) for you. but the air is cold, and he’s so warm, and you’re feeling greedy. you want him all to yourself. that’s all you’ve ever really wanted from this, anyway. him.

you’re in his bed later that night, in his clothes, after he’s given you his real gift—satiating your needs, the desires he understands so well. you’re on your tummy, and he’s on his side, peacefully watching the path of his fingers that trace gentle shapes up and down your spine. you feel your eyelids grow heavy, shutting every few moments.

“hey,” he whispers at one point, voice low with fatigue.

“hm?” you murmur, raising your brows but not quite mustering the energy to look at him.

“i love you.” and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but it’s no less impactful. an iron rod to your chest, beaming and glowing from the inside out. “you know that, right?”

slowly, you open your eyes, and what you find turns the heat inside your belly up ten fold. he isn’t looking for reassurance or scoping out doubt. those are long gone with the passage of time. he just wants you to know—really know. hear him, and accept it for all it’s worth.

everything, really.

“i know it,” you whisper back, and a sleepy little grin erupts on his cheeks. you can’t help yourself. you lean forward and up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, and muttering against them: “i love you.”

he pulls you onto his chest, then. letting you smother him with your weight and wrapping his arms tightly around you. good. steady. real. perfect.

maybe valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all.

[captainreecejames]

Can't Have a Good Thing || My ex is a footballer LS2 edition

[masterlist][my ex series masterlist]

summary you go from dating an american footballer to an american driver

pairings ex!christian pulisic x reader, logan sargeant x reader

warnings probably a little anti pulisic but i still love my baby

notes pictures are from pinterest so thank you to all those lovely users (as I wrote this my english teacher from 11th grade came into my job and it was not fun!)

May 2023 ynusername posted -------

liked by cmpulisic, reece and others

ynusername final chelsea game of the season, love you guys

chelseafc awww we love you too yn ❤️ by author

cmpulisic always love having you there ↳ ynusername wouldn't want to be anywhere else

username1 look at my girl dawg, chelsea is embarrassing her ↳ username2 please, christian didn't even play

reece once a blue always a blue ↳ username3 NAH WHY IS THIS SO CRYPTIC ↳ username4 you can't say shit like this then leave DUDE

username5 that chrisyn interaction screams for help ↳ username6 i wouldn't be surprised if they're not dating anymore but trying to keep up appearances ↳ username7 breakup statement incoming ↳ username8 can we get fabrizio to comment on wag breakups please!! ↳ username7 lol can you imagine a here we go! breakup is official! peak comedy

cesarazpilicueta 💙 ↳ ynusername love you too capitan!

July 2023 real life ---------

It’s been a rough few months in the house for the two of you. Christian’s time at Chelsea was most likely coming to an end, and you had just started a new project at work, so your time was filled with that. Nights spent making dinner and laughing together turned to plates left in the microwave and lights out early. Mornings started with short wake up kisses to hardly whispered goodbyes.

In fewer words, the relationship was falling apart. You barely knew what was going on in each others lives anymore, it’s no surprise when he tells you he’s leaving Chelsea.

Chris is still in Florida with his family, enjoying the last few days off before preseason. You had been with him for the 4th of July, but needed to fly back to London almost immediately for a new project and you’re exhausted. When he Facetimes you it’s almost 11:30 at night and your still sitting in your home office, but with how excited Chris is, he can’t tell that you’re operating on extremely low levels of energy. You want to be excited for him, but you can see the writing on the wall.

“Hey babe.” You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the shock any less. “I’ve got some big news.” He waits for you to say something, but all you do is blink and nod. “AC Milan are going to sign me.” He waits again for you to say something. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Your lack of enthusiasm confuses Christian.

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

Your apathy turns to frustration quickly and you shift in the chair. “Because, Christian, I’m not just going to blow up my life in London to follow you to a new city. I’ve got a job here and it’s going well. I don’t want to have to start all over again. Not to mention learning a whole new language. Have you considered how isolating that would be for me?”

“So what, I just rot at Chelsea because you don’t want to move?” He is now just as defensive as you, words biting at the holes that have formed in your relationship, making them grow.

“I didn’t say that!” You sit up even straighter, putting your phone down against the computer so it stands on it’s own.

“Well it sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want to pack up my life and move to a new country where I don’t know anyone.”

You could see the fight leave his body as he came to the same realization you did. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I think we’re done Chris.” You can feel your heart break that last little bit with the words you say. You love Christian, but with everything you’ve gone through, it’s not enough.

twitter ---------

September 2023 real life ------

In one hand you held your phone, looking down at the details of your train back to London, in the other a hot chocolate to warm you up in the brisk wind of Oxford. It’s how you missed the body in front of you and ended up falling straight on your ass because of it, hot chocolate splashing onto your shirt.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, pulling your shirt away from your body so it didn’t burn.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said an American accent. You groaned in your head, not wanting to deal with this. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” They put a hand in your face, gesturing to help you up, which you took. 

“No, it was my fault, I was staring at my phone,” you told them as they pulled you up. He was strong, and also probably a little awkward as he was still holding your hand.

“Me too, so I really won’t let you take the blame.” His awkward smile was also cute, but you tried not to think that, it wouldn’t agree with your ‘no boys agenda.’ “Do you need another hot chocolate?” The cup was empty at your feet, making you wince. 

“Yeah, probably another shirt too.” It’s at that point that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, and he drops it.

“Let me get you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re still very early for the train, but travel anxiety is terrible and you want to leave soon.

“I insist.” Something about his smile and red cheeks makes you say yes to him, and you’re really not sure why. “I’m Logan, by the way.” He’s leading you back into the line of the cafe, smiling at you still.

“I’m YN,” you tell him.

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, benchilwell, and others

ynusername exploring oxford finally

bsfinstagram babe you run into any quidditch players ↳ ynusername bitch you know i'm swearing off athletes

username7 damn why are you so beautiful

samkerr 💞 ↳ ynusername ugh bestie i love you

pulisick10 'SWEARING OFF ATHLETES?' Christian mate pulisic what did you do!?! ↳ username8 that is so fucking harsh though like pulisic really did a number on our girl here ↳ pulisick10 ben chilwell still in the likes tho ↳ username8 nah her and ben are friends, like ben was always close with christian and just cause he left doesn't mean that she can't be friends still ↳ username8 also she's still good friends with the women's team ↳ pulisick10 well that's cause the women are better ❤️ by ynusername and bsfinstagram ↳ username8 NOT HER LIKING THAT but also won't argue with that

logansargeant at least the weather was good ↳ ynusername youre right, thank you english sun who comes out once in a blue moon ↳ bsfinstagram I'm questioning things ↳ ynusername well you shouldn't

username11 she's sworn off athletes but has a formula 1 driver in her comments... ↳ username12 fake bitch ↳ username13 two people can be friends right? ↳ username12 she breaks up with christian because of the distance but is talking a driver like he isn't gone more than half the year, she's definitely fake for that ↳ username13 how do you know that's why they broke up ↳ username14 she doesn't she's just being a hater ❤️ by ynusername ↳ username11 damn all this fighting on my comment thread?

username12 not yn liking so many comments, do you read them ↳ ynusername gotta appreciate a good laugh ↳ username13 yn stalks her comments like a real one should

twitter ---------

yn's messages -----------

November 2023 yn's messages ------------

real life --------

Your hotel room is kind of a mess, with clothes thrown around and various pieces of paper on the floor. It’s not really a surprise to Logan, even though he hasn’t known you very long.

After a long day exploring New York City in fairly okay weather, the two of you are relaxing in your hotel room before dinner. “Can I ask you something?” Logan asks. He’s currently sitting in the desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and head hung back. 

“Go ahead.” You’re on your bed, laying like a starfish.

“Would you say yes to going on a date with me?” You sit up straight, staring at him with wide eyes as he doesn’t move.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m asking if you’d say yes to me asking you on a date.” His clarification makes you narrow your eyes, but he still doesn’t move. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

That gets him moving, turning the chair to look at you. “So would you say yes or no?”

“I’d say no right now.”

“What about in a month?”

“In a month, when we’re both back in England, I’d probably say yes.”

“Cool,” he shrugs, going back to putting his feet on the desk. “Then I’ll ask you again in January.”

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon and others

ynusername look who came to visit

lilymhe booooo bring me next time ↳ ynusername you're welcome whenever, he invited himself ↳ logansargeant literally not true you asked me to come ↳ ynusername stop lying! i wanted thanksgiving but you have this job that makes you fly across the world to drive a stupid car or something

oscarpiastri look at him jumping for joy for you ↳ ynusername yeah well, what can i say, I'm a dream come true

bsfinstagram ahhhh just under 2 weeks until you come home!! ↳ ynusername I missed you so much ↳ bsfinstagram debrief over wine incoming!

username18 nope she is definitely dating this driver ↳ username19 it's so weird cause like if she really broke up with christian because of distance then isn't this just so much worse ↳ username20 i don't think they broke up just because of distance, things were probably weird for a couple of months before hand cause she wasn't going to as many mens games, she was definitely going to the women's games though.

timothyweah did you get a hotdog from the hotdog guy? ↳ ynusername yes... why? ↳ timothyweah cause they're good and i just want to make sure that you did ↳ ynusername okay timmy

chelseafcw don't stay too long we miss you ↳ ynusername aww, i miss you guys too

May 2024 ynusername posted--------

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

ynusername Miami you can be pretty but you're on my shit list

landonorris no whyyyyy ↳ ynusername idk might have something to do with my boyfriend dnfing at his home race. ↳ landonorris oh, okay ↳ ynusername but i guess congrats on your win ↳ landonorris thanks ynnnnn! ↳ oscarpiastri someone is still drunk

logansargeant ohhh he's handsome ↳ ynusername yeah and he's got a jealous ass girlfriend so beware ↳ logansargeant love you too babe

username23 finally confirmed that they're dating only seven months later