#like my mom can’t even watch her all the time because she’s always running around and refuses to stay in one part of the house

[onomonopetabread]

Any of y’all want a four year old? Cuz I’m so tired

[maximoffsgirl]

Peace in Chaos

summary: You can’t say no to the twins; Wanda, can’t say no to you. It’s a dynamic that often works in their favor—especially when they desperately want something. The twins know that, if all else fails, they can rely on you to soften Wanda’s resolve, even if they trick you along the way.

warnings: Established relationship, Wanda and Reader are married. Domestic Life. The twins are close to 7/8 years old. Wanda is referred as mama/mom, Y/N is referred as mommy. Otherwise, I think there's none, this is pure fluff

author's note: English isn't my first language :) and to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️

word count: 3.311

not proofread!

When Wanda first joined the Avengers, she spent much of her time locked away inside the room they designated as hers, finding solace in the company of old books she had never had the chance to read before. Among those books, she stumbled upon a collection of poetry and came across a single phrase, quoted by Emily Dickinson; a phrase which was still written at the beginning of the diary Clint had gifted her for Christmas when the Avengers Tower became her home: "The heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care."

At first, Wanda found the phrase peculiar. How could her heart, which had never known a single day of peace, possibly want anything? Yet, as time passed, she began to understand. It was precisely because her heart had endured so much chaos that it longed for something different.

Stability was a foreign concept to Wanda. Her life had always been beyond her control, and when her powers came into the picture, they only added to the turmoil. But the constant inconsistency made Wanda’s heart want one thing more than anything in the whole world. A family.

She yearned for a family like the one she once had. A family she could come home to at the end of the day, where she could sink into the couch with the weight of the week pressing down on her shoulders - an uncomfortable ache, yet in a place where she felt comfortable. An environment where a television program no one was really watching played softly in the background while someone shared the details of their day. Wanda’s heart craved for care and tenderness, something solid yet gentle—a sanctuary that felt soft, safe, and unshakably real.

After the life she had lived—always running, fighting, and losing—it felt almost unbelievable that Wanda now had everything she had ever wanted cradled in her arms. Hard to believe, I know. But with your head resting against her chest, your body nestled between her legs as you scrolled through your phone, Wanda was certain that she needed nothing more. She closed her eyes  briefly, letting herself savor the peace, the warmth, and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

The sounds from your phone mingled with the lively chatter drifting down from upstairs, where the twins were deeply immersed in a passionate debate about something. It was chaos. But it was her chaos. A chaos that she chose and was looking forward to every single day live in. 

“Hm? What are you doing?” Wanda asked, her arms tightening around you as you started to move. Her voice was soft but carried a hint of reluctance. She tilted her head a little to the side, wanting to know what you were planning. 

You turned to face her, a small smile on your lips. “We forgot to put the plates in the dishwasher,” you replied casually, as if that alone was enough reason to leave Wanda's embrace. To your wife, it definitely wasn't.

Wanda let out a low, drawn-out groan, clearly unenthusiastic about you leaving the comfort of her body pressed against yours. She held you a little tighter, silently protesting your attempt to get up.

“Don’t you need to finish your mission report?” you teased gently, raising an eyebrow at her reaction. Your words made her sigh in mild defeat. She had mentioned earlier that she needed to wrap up her mission report after dinner. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed—especially when it meant sacrificing time with you—but it was something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she hated it.

“I do,” she complained, her tone carrying a mix of annoyance and reluctance. Her thumb gently brushed against your cheek. It was obvious she didn’t want to move, but the mission report wasn’t going to complete itself.

Before either of you could say more, a sudden, loud noise from upstairs interrupted the moment. Both your heads turned toward the ceiling in unison. Wanda frowned, her brows knitting together as she stared at the source of the commotion.

“What are they doing up there?” she muttered, her voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of irritation.

“Probably destroying your things,” you joke, smirking at her. Wanda didn’t share your amusement; instead, she shot you a stern look, her concern evident. That only made you chuckle softly.

“Relax, baby” you murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips, your way of soothing her. With a lazy stretch, you slipped out of her warm embrace, earning a soft groan of protest as you stood. “I’ll get the dishes,” you said with a playful shrug, heading toward the kitchen while Wanda remained on the couch. 

She reached out for you, calling your name with a playful pout on her lips, as if trying to coax you back into her arms. But all she got in response was a teasing kiss blown in the air, followed by a few more chuckles from you. "You're impossible," Wanda muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched, hinting at a smile she couldn’t quite suppress

A few minutes later, Wanda mirrored your actions with a resigned sigh. With a stretch and a yawn, she slowly pushed herself off the couch, kissing your shoulder once she moved past the kitchen to her home office. She opened the door with another huff, the thought of that mission report weighed heavily on her, already draining her energy before she even began.

As peaceful as the silence was, it didn’t last longer than fifteen minutes—a brief reprieve, but in a house with twins, it felt like a blessing. The twins knew better than to disturb Wanda when her office door was closed, understanding the importance of letting her work in peace. However, today was different. They had something important to ask her, and they were certain that mama wouldn’t mind being interrupted if it was truly important.

Wanda, ever attuned to the sounds around her, heard the soft footsteps and hushed whispers before the three gentle knocks echoed on her office door. She glanced down at the mission report in front of her, then dropped her pen onto the pile of papers near the notebook, her attention fully shifting to the interruption. 

“Yes?” she called out, her voice loud enough to reach her sons, signaling they had permission to enter.

The door creaked open slightly, and two sets of curious eyes peeked through the gap. First, Tommy, with his usual impatience, then Billy, who always seemed a bit more cautious. Their wide eyes and raised eyebrows said it all—they had something to ask. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, her stern demeanor softening instantly. She gestured for them to come in, her smile softening as she watched them shuffle inside, their little hands fidgeting with each other in anticipation.

“Is everything alright?” Wanda asked, her voice filled with the kind of tenderness that only a mother could provide.

The twins, true to their age, began poking and nudging each other, whispering in hushed tones while they stood in front of their mother - who was looking at them with amusement as they continued to argue who would be the one to initiate the conversation. 

“Mom, we have something super important to ask. But… promise you’re going to listen first” Billy tried to negotiate, his little feet shuffled nervously as he spoke. Tommy, by his side, nodded his head in support, his wide-eyed expression practically daring Wanda to disagree.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched her boys’ antics. Leaning back in her chair, she murmured a soft, “Okay…” her tone amused yet curious, ready to hear what the twins were planning. 

“So.. we saw something on the internet..”

That wasn’t entirely true. Long before the twins were even born, you and Wanda had agreed, in a heartful parenting talk, that unrestricted internet access wouldn’t be part of your children’s childhood. That being established, the closest the twins got to the “internet” was their tablets - with a few games they begged to have since all their friends were active on and the little maximoffs were being left out- streaming shows, and, on some occasions like weekends, YouTube videos.

Still, Wanda stayed quiet, her expression neutral as she listened to Tommy’s words. Even if he couldn’t possibly get whatever their idea was from the ‘internet; more likely, he was just saying it as an excuse to shift the responsibility off himself and his brother. 

“And we wanted to try.. We wanted to have a night pool party”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, glancing between her sons with growing curiosity. She had a sneaking suspicion about where this was headed but decided to feign ignorance, opting to play along.

"A night pool party..." Wanda repeated slowly, dragging out the words with a hint of amusement as she looked at her sons. Her lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile. "And where would this happen, exactly?"

"Here! Tonight! We've already planned everything," Tommy blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement.

Billy immediately hissed at his brother, shooting him a sharp glare. That definitely wasn’t part of the carefully rehearsed convincing speech they had agreed on beforehand. 

Wanda frowned, her amusement fading. If it were any other season, the idea might not have bothered her as much. But her sons wanting to swim in the freezing water of the pool outside? That was a firm no. The idea would only serve so they’d catch a cold and be miserable for the rest of the week. Besides, late hours weren’t meant for pool parties—especially not in this weather and not with the age they had. 

There they stood in front of her: matching cozy pajamas, hair lazily brushed back, and fresh-faced from their recent bath. They looked absolutely adorable, and Wanda couldn’t bear the thought of letting their idea ruin that. Spring was just around the corner, and while her children were undeniably the cutest in the world, she had no interest in dealing with two sick little ones—especially when even the smallest sneeze turned them into impossibly needy bundles of chaos.

“No. It's not even hot.” she simply replied, looking back to the now black screen of her notebook. 

“But mom,” the twins protested in unison, their voices carrying the familiar tone of pleading.

Wanda, however, was unmoved. Her decision was final, and she wasn’t about to budge. Crossing her arms, she gave them a firm but gentle look that clearly said, not happening.

“No is no, boys. I’m not going to repeat myself. When it's hotter we can think about it”

The twins left her office with matching little huffs, their quiet complaints trailing behind them. They knew better than to argue further or try to reason with their mother—her decision was final, as always.

But the twins, as stubborn as any Maximoff to ever walk the Earth, weren’t ready to give up just yet. Instead, they exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. They’d just have to come up with another strategy.

It was no secret that, between you and Wanda, you were the parent more likely to entertain the wild ideas your sons came up with. Camping in the backyard? Of course. Nearly a liter of milkshake, even if it was freezing outside? Without a doubt. If it sounded fun, you were usually on board.

You didn’t blame Wanda for seeing things differently. After everything she had endured in her life, control and structure brought her a sense of peace she had rarely known before. Ensuring that the household stayed balanced and comfortable wasn’t just her way of parenting—it was her way of feeling secure.

But that didn’t make her the “boring parent.” If you asked the twins, they’d insist that mama was just as fun as mommy. Sure, she was a little scarier when she got angry, but that only made her the perfect balance to your more carefree approach.

Although they knew better than anyone how to take advantage of your different personalities.

At times like this, when Billy and Tommy had their hearts set on something, they knew they could always count on you to try convincing Wanda to let them have their way.

Sometimes it didn’t work—after all, undermining Wanda’s authority wasn’t part of your parenting playbook, nor was it in hers. But there were moments when a little push for compromise didn’t hurt, especially for something harmless enough to reconsider.

That’s why you felt two little fingers poking each of your shoulders while you scrolled through your phone on the couch. Turning around, you were met with the two most adorable faces you’d ever seen.

“Hi, boys. Already tired of breaking the house upstairs?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

They responded with cheeky smiles, and without a word, Billy climbed up to sit beside you on the couch, Tommy quickly settling in next to his brother. Their mischievous grins told you they had something up their sleeves.

“Mommy…” Billy trailed off, his voice sweet and direct. “Can we have a swim party tonight?”

His question was much more straightforward than Tommy’s had been when they’d asked Wanda.

You frowned slightly at the idea. The weather wasn’t exactly cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm enough to make a pool party seem like the best choice. You thought about it for a moment. The pool was clean, they’d have fun, and it might tire them out enough for an easy bedtime.

“Hm. Why not?” you said with a shrug, giving in to their request. The twins smiled, happy to finally receive a ‘yes’ to their idea. 

“Can you convince mama then?” Tommy asked eagerly, his excitement practically radiating off him. Billy let out another huff, clearly annoyed by his brother's impatience.

You turned your body to face them, a sigh escaping your lips as you realized you'd fallen for one of their tricks, again

“Don’t turn this on me, boys,” you said, shaking your head. But when they hit you with those puppy-dog eyes, you knew you were in trouble. You sighed again, giving in.

“Okay, I guess I could try to convince her... but if she doesn’t budge, I won’t try again, alright?”

The twins nodded eagerly, their smiles growing wider once they got you to agree with their idea. You ruffled both of their messy hairs playfully before standing up, a smile tugging at your lips as you made your way toward Wanda’s office. The twins’ giggles echoed behind you, but you knew you had your work cut out for you if you were going to convince Wanda.

Just like your sons, you approached Wanda’s office quietly, giving a few light knocks before stepping inside. Wanda, who was about halfway through her report, looked up and smiled at the sight of you. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, she rolled her chair back slightly and patted her lap, inviting you to sit.

You settled sideways on her lap, and Wanda wasted no time wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you close, sighing with the familiar weight of your body upon hers

“How’s it going?” you asked, your fingers working gently at the tense muscles in her neck. Wanda let out a soft sigh, her smile a blend of contentment and fatigue.

“Annoying, as always,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. Her hand drifted to your thigh, her fingers lightly running over the fabric in soothing motions as she added with a small smile, “But I’m halfway through it”.

“You know... the twins mentioned something about a night swim tonight,” you said casually, your tone light but deliberate. “And, apparently, I’ve been tasked with convincing you,” you added playfully, though there was a touch of seriousness behind your words.

“Have you now?” Wanda replied, her voice mirroring your playful tone but laced with even more amusement. She arched an eyebrow knowingly, already piecing together where this conversation was heading.

“I know you already said no, but they’re so excited about it, Wands,” you said, trying to play the kids’ happiness card against her. Wanda rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She saw right through your game but decided to let you play it anyway.

“And just think about it,” you continued, your hands gently moving along her neck, down to her shoulders, and back up again in soothing motions. “We can turn on the pool LEDs, make it fun. They’ll tire themselves out, and bedtime will be so much easier.”

You laid out the positives, your tone soft but persuasive, waiting patiently for her response.

“Love.. I know. But it’s late and It’s not even hot” She tried to resonate with you, sighing with each argument, knowing she has already lost. 

“They’ll be alright, babe. Let them have this,” you said with a convincing smile.”

Wanda let out a heavy sigh, her expression unamused as she looked at you. “If they catch a cold, you will be the one taking care of them,” she said firmly, pointing a finger at you for emphasis.

But despite her words, you both knew the truth. If that scenario played out, Wanda would be right there, rolling her eyes but still doting on the sick twins, as she always did.

You stayed wrapped in her embrace for a while, both of you savoring the quiet presence of each other. Wanda adjusted you on her lap, shifting just enough to free both hands so she could continue working on her report. You rested your head against her shoulder, your warm breath brushing against her neck, which made her smile softly despite her focus on the task.

The content of the report didn’t matter to you now—you’d already heard all about the mission the day after she got home. So you stayed quiet, simply enjoying the comforting warmth of her body and the peaceful moment you were sharing.

After that,  you and Wanda made your way to the living room, stepping in quietly. The twins were curled up on the couch, watching something on Netflix, completely oblivious to your arrival. Wanda stepped forward, arms crossed, hands on her hips, and her head tilted in mock frustration.

“I can’t believe you both!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp and disapproving.

The twins froze, their eyes widening as they turned to face you both. Wanda’s intimidating stance and your almost-guilty expression made them shrink in their spots, unsure of what they’d done.

“What are you two doing? You should be getting ready for the swim party!” Wanda said, feigning exasperation but failing to hide the faint twitch of a smile.

The twins blinked at her, then at each other, before springing up from the couch in pure joy. “Oh my god, seriously?!” Tommy shouted.

“YESSS!” Billy cheered, both of them jumping around excitedly as they circled their mothers, their energy contagious.

Soon, the house transformed into its familiar brand of chaos. The twins, now dressed in their swimsuits, were already splashing around in the pool, the colorful glow of the LED lights—courtesy of Tony Stark—dancing across the water. Their laughter echoed through the backyard, only occasionally interrupted by shouts of, "It's so cold!" Wanda, unimpressed, responded with a dramatic eye roll, her arms folded across her chest.

Standing at the edge of the pool, Wanda kept her distance, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she watched the scene unfold. She made no effort to join the fun, choosing instead to watch with a raised eyebrow and an air of feigned detachment. Yet, the slight tug at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

Somehow, despite her initial objections, Wanda found a sense of peace in the chaos surrounding her. The sound of Tommy and Billy's laughter brought a soft smile to her face, and she even chuckled at your playful teasing—directed at both her and the twins.

Two days later, the inevitable happened. The twins began sneezing, and you found yourself on the receiving end of a very pointed lecture from Wanda. But, as always, her frustration melted away with a sweet kiss, leaving her shaking her head in exasperated affection.

It was a different kind of chaos—one filled with sniffles, tissues, and extra cuddles—but it was hers. Wanda’s heart had finally found something. Had finally found peace in the beautiful mess of it all.

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thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

masterlist

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

[miley1442111]

Hii omg i love the way you write!!! obsessed with the Rafe x Reader x JJ's fic. I'm eating that UPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And because of that i came to ask for something like that, i didnt saw anything like that done yet... The idea would be like that:

Rafe and reader are best best best friends like BEST FRIENDS but obviously deep down both are in love with each other and they personalities fit perfectly. But then Rafe starts dating Sofia (or just someone else) and reader get some distance from him to respect the privacy of the couple but Rafe always picks reader, Rafe and sofia meet reader on the country club, Rafe talks to reader the whole time, and give all is attention to reader.

Noticing how uncomfortable Sofia gets the reader get even more distant from Rafe and that starts to destroy him until one day, something big happens and Rafe picks reader instead of Sofia, like his instinct is to pick Reader. Then Sofia makes Rafe choose once and for all between her, his girlfriend or his bestfriend and one true love, the reader.

Maybe fluff/angst/comfort??? Pleaseeeeee sorry if this is too long or made you uncomfortable!!

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easy choice- r.cameron

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a/n: HI (louder than everyone else), i literally love you and this request anon!!!!!!! I dropped everything to write this, it literally got me out of a writing funk!!!!!! (YAYAYYAAYYA THANK U POOKIE) this is amazing and I hope you enjoy !!!!! :)))))))))))

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader, male oc x fem! reader, rafe cameron x female oc

summary: i suggest you look at the ask

warnings: kissing, toxic realtionship, rafe is a bit of a dick to haley and reader, rafe is confused, cursing, underage drinking, drinking, suggestive mentions (I think that's it?)

y/n is such a girls girl i love it.

not entirely proofread

3.4k words :)

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You had been in love with Rafe Cameron from the moment you knew what love was. You had been 5 years old when the brunette boy wandered into your life in the role of your rich neighbour, but also your new best friend. Their large land meant you and Rafe spent every day of  that summer running around with each other, playing, laughing, being kids. 

When you were 6 years old he’d kissed your cheek and your mom’s had laughed, calling it ‘young love’. And that’s what it was. From that moment, you knew you loved Rafe. You knew he loved you back. For the next 13 years every time someone brought up Rafe and asked what you were to him, it was always ‘best friend’, and when people would ask you how you felt about him, you told them. 

“I love him,” you’d shrug. It was simple. They could take it that you were in love with him, or that you loved him. It was up to them. 

Often, you’d joke that you two were too close to ever date, that you’d ‘seen too much’ of the other, and that it would be weird. But on the night of your 15th birthday when you’d both gotten drunk for the first time, and when he’d kissed you, you’d thought that maybe that idea was stupid. Maybe you hadn’t seen too much. 

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“This is Haley,” Rafe smiled. Haley, Rafe’s new girlfriend was clinging to him like all the others you’d met had, intimidated by you. You just smiled. “This is Y/n, she’s my best friend.”

You watched as her face faltered, then her hand shot out far too quickly, and almost hit your drink. You just smiled and shook her hand. “I promise I’m not one of those terrible ‘girl best friend in love with your boyfriend’ girls, I’ve seen Rafe shit himself, I can’t ever get that image out of my head.”

Haley smiled, then laughed as Rafe rolled his eyes at you. You shrugged, it was the best way to break the ice with his girlfriends, make fun of him. 

“No way,” she chuckled. “How old was he?”

“5-”

“15,” you answered. “Remember? When we were going skiing with your dad?” 

Rafe gritted his teeth and smiled at you, but you knew he wasn’t mad. Rafe was unable to get mad at you, it was truly impressive. All these years, and you’d never had a real fight. You just laughed at him and he broke out of his fake annoyance. 

“Well, I think this has been a great conversation, thanks Y/n-” Rafe was trying to steer Haley towards the bar behind you, but she stayed put. 

“Rafe, I want to meet her, properly,” she whispered and he rolled his eyes but obliged. 

“Good for you girl,” you chuckled, poking fun at the way he listened and did anything she asked. She laughed again. Maybe you two would be friends? That would be nice. All of Rafe’s old girlfriends had been intimidated by you, and it made you pretty upset. They had nothing to worry about, yes, you loved Rafe, but not like that. Yes, he was your first crush, and first kiss, but you were over that. You were a grown woman, and you knew your own feelings, fuck what everyone else thought. You weren’t in love with Rafe Cameron, you loved your best friend. And that’s all he was, your best friend. “Do you guys want to get lunch?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Haley smiled. 

“I have golf with the boys, you sure you don’t want to join?” He asked, turning to you.

“I’m, fucking awful at golf Rafe, it sucks, so for the last fucking time; no thank you,” you chuckled. 

“Suite yourself,” he shrugged, and grabbed your hand, giving it a tight squeeze before starting to walk off. 

“Rafe?” You called him. 

“Hm?” He turned back. 

You nodded your head in Haley’s direction. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” You mouthed. 

Rafe nodded, catching on and walked back over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Haley smiled and waved him off. 

“He’s such a dick sometimes, sorry,” you chuckled with her. 

“He’s fine,” she smiled. “Seriously, I’d rather be here anyways, you’re right about golf, that shit sucks.”

You chuckled. “Amen to that.”

You talked with Haley for an hour before you had to get back to work. 

“Well, I better head back to work,” you smiled, getting up. “It was awesome to meet you.”

“Yeah you too,” she smiled, getting up at the same time. “To be honest I was pretty worried to meet you.”

“Why?”

“Rafe talks about you all the time, you’re like the only thing he talks about,” she chuckled and you felt awful. Rafe shouldn’t be talking about you to his girlfriend. You were his friend, and you’d never ever want someone, let alone his girlfriend to be worried about your role in his life. You two were strictly best friends.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that can’t be nice,” you sympathised. 

She shook her head. “No seriously, I didn't mean it in a bad way! It’s just-”

“No! Of course not,” you assured her. “I just mean that I wouldn’t totally like it if my boyfriend was constantly talking about someone else,” you explained. “I had one of those ‘girl best friend boyfriends’ and trust me, I swear to not be like that.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Now, I’d love your number so you can tell me if Rafe ever does some stupid shit, he usually listens to me and I can knock some sense into him. He has no right to piss you off, ever,” you chuckled. “Don’t take any of his shit, ever, ok? Promise me?”

“I promise,” she chuckled. “Thanks for being so… cool. I didn’t exactly expect it.” 

“No problem,” you smiled. “Thanks for being so cool too.”

You two left each other, and you two were friends. That felt good, and it also felt too good to mess up. So you decided it would be best to lay off Rafe for a while, still go out, but not alone (not that there was anything wrong with it, but just to give Haley peace of mind), and not reply immediately when he texted. 

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

Rafe: Are You free today? 

Today, 11:00 am

You: Sorry, going out with Kelce and Top. Go out with Haley. 

Today 1:00 pm

Rafe: ???

Rafe: Didn’t think to invite me? 

Today, 1:01pm

You: Haley told me you two have plans today Rafe.  DON’T FUCK THIS UP! SHE’S REALLY COOL!!!

Today 1:02 pm

Rafe: Y/n come on. I’m only hanging out with her. She clings to me like a fucking koala

Today 1:04 pm

You: Set boundaries then. She’s your girlfriend. (plus me + you hang out more often than you and her????)

Today 1:04 pm

Rafe: That's different.

Today 1:05 pm

You: ????? 

You: No it’s not. Now have a fun date Rafe! Top, Kelc and I are drunk on a boat rn :)))))

Read 1:08pm

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

Three months later…

Rafe: Dinner + horror movie tonight? Tanneyhill?

Read 2:14pm

“Who’re you texting?” Haley asked Rafe as she watched him get increasingly pissed off while looking at his phone. 

“No one,” he coughed, putting his phone down. Why were you ignoring him? It had been three months of dodged hangouts and missed calls and texts. He was getting the majority of his information about you out of Haley, and it was pissing him off. You were his best friend, not hers. Yet you seemed to have all the time in the world for her, and none for him. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Haley started. “Y/n and I were shopping the other day and-”

Rafe’s ears piqued up. Haley and you were hanging out, but you and him weren’t? Again, unfair, he was your best friend. “What?”

“Me and Y/N? We went shopping the other day and she finally found her Midsummer’s dress,” Haley explained. “We decided we’d match!” Haley turned and showed him a picture of you two in the matching pale pink dresses. 

Rafe was almost knocked on his ass by how good you looked. Your messy hair from the rain that had hit that day and your real smile, the one he knew, the one he usually brought out of you, and the long pink dress accentuating every perfect feature of your body. He found himself smiling. 

“What do you think?” Haley smiled. 

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, handing her phone back. “You’re stunning.”

Haley’s smile widened and Rafe felt accomplished. Yes, Haley looked good, but beside you? He didn’t even see her. 

“We should go to the mainland and get you a matching pink suit,” Haley beamed. She put her phone down, turning to Rafe. “I’m so glad we're together.”

Rafe flashed her his signature smirk and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Kook princess and Kook king. This is what he’d wanted. Why didn’t it feel good then?

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

Later that night, you called him. 

“Hi,” He sighed into the phone. 

“Did Haley tell you the happy news?” You chuckled. 

“That you two are matching for Midsummers? Yeah I know, the dress is pretty-”

“No Rafe, that I won’t be third wheeling you two at Midsummers,” you chuckled. 

Rafe stopped in his tracks. He stopped mid-biting into his apple and he almost dropped his phone. “What?”

“I got asked to Midsummers!” You cheered. 

“Who?” Rafe’s voice was just above a whisper. What was that feeling? The bile in his throat that he couldn’t swallow down. The red-tint in his vision. The way his entire body tensed. 

“Conrad Burren and I are going together,” you smiled. 

Rafe’s heart started beating again and he sighed, a smile landing on his lips. You were friends with the pogues, Conrad was your friend. “Oh,” he took a breath. “You’re going as friends, I thought you meant you got a date.”

You were quiet for a moment. That shit stung. “I did get a date. It’s a date Rafe,” you were more than offended. Rafe acting like you couldn’t get a date, fuck him. You and Conrad  were going together, and that’s what you wanted. Would you rather it be your usual tradition with Rafe where you’d run off to the empty lighthouse, get drunk and watch Jaws? Yes. But Haley had somehow convinced him to go to Midsummers, and you weren’t going to mess that up for her. “Conrad and I are going on a date.”

Rafe’s heart stopped again. Fuck. “Oh.”

You were getting angry with his silence. “Thanks Rafe, you piece of shit,” you spat and hung up the phone. 

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

He had no reason to be this upset. Was he even upset? Was this him being upset? He had no idea how he was feeling, so an impromptu ‘boys only’ meeting was called. 

“Why are we here at midnight Rafe?” Topper yawned as he sat beside Wheezie (Yes, Wheezie and Sarah were part of your little group, and they were honorary boys at this meeting). “And where’s Y/n?”

Sarah laughed. “This is about Y/n,” she explained. “They had a fight.”

“Sarah!” He groaned, pacing the room. 

“Over who she’s going to Midsummers with,” Wheezie finished for her. “She’s going with Conrad.”

“Burren?” Kelce asked and Wheezie nodded. “He’s an alright guy, better than Jj Maybank anyways.”

Topper chuckled and agreed. “Yeah, what’s the issue with Conrad? He's a pogue and she’s basically a pogue anyways."

"Exactly! The only thing that really makes Y/n a kook is being friends with us and her parent’s money so… what’s the big problem that dragged me out of bed at fucking 11:43pm?” Kelce yawned.

“The problem is that she shouldn't be going with him!” Rafe snarled. 

“Who should she go with?” Sarah sighed. 

“No one!” Rafe exclaimed and everyone burst out laughing. “Me? No, no one!”

“Rafe, you have Haley and Y/n’s going to have to date one day! She’s already had a boyfriend or two,” Wheezie shrugged. 

Rafe turned his head to her. “What?”

“Yeah! They just weren’t super serious so she probably didn’t tell you,” Wheezie explained. 

“She probably didn’t tell you because she knew you’d flip your shit,” Sarah chuckled. “Like you’re doing right now.”

“Fuck off!” He hissed. “I’m not in love with her!”

The room fell silent, save for the heavy breathing of Rafe. 

“No one said you were,” Sarah smirked. “But you just did.”

And everything clicked into place for Rafe. He was in love with you. And of course he was. You, beautiful, intelligent, funny, kind, amazing, you. Who wouldn’t be in love with you? How hadn’t he realised it sooner? Why hadn’t he acted on it sooner?

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. No! No, I-I can’t be in-in love with Y/n!”

Sarah laughed. “Rafe it’s alright!’

“No! No it’s not! Be-because she said we-we'd never date! ‘It wouldn’t ma-make sense’ she said. She said we wouldn’t make sense!” He panicked. He was in love with you, and there was no way you’d ever give him a chance. And then there way fucking Haley. Kook princess, irritating, clingy, Haley. “And what do I do about Haley?”

“I mean,” Kelce took a deep breath. “You might need to just break it off.”

“No he can’t do that,” Topper shook his head. “Haley and Y/n are like best friends-”

“Y/n is my best friend!” Sarah shouted. “Y/n is my best friend!” Rafe shouted. “Y/n is my best friend!” Wheezie shouted. All at the same time.

The Cameron siblings started into a very loud shouting match, trying to convince the others that you were in fact their best friend, not the others. Topper and Kelce let it run its course for about 10 minutes, but with no end in sight, Topper shouted. “Ok! You need to talk to Haley about this, then go to Y/n, but wait until after Midsummers!” 

Rafe stared at him for a minute, then shrugged. “Yeah. Good plan,” he wiped some of the sweat from his forehead and stood still for the first time in hours. “You two can go,” he mumbled to his friends, who just laughed.

“See you tomorrow man,” Kelce chuckled as they left. 

Rafe just had to wait until after Midsummers, which was four days away. He could make that, right?

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

Rafe could not make it for 4 days. 4 days of knowing that you were mad at him, that you were going on a date with someone else to Midsummers, that he would have to see you there with him. 

4 days of agony, essentially. 

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

“What’s wrong with you?” Haley finally asked, sick of his shitty mood that had just been growing throughout the week. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, letting go of her hand as they walked. 

“No,” She stopped. “Come on, talk to me Rafey.”

Rafey. He fucking hated it when she called him that. It felt juvenile, so stupid, so whiny. 

“Stop calling me that shit,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s fucking annoying.”

She took a step away from him. “Rafe Cameron, we are going to Midsummers in 3 fucking hours, do I need to call Y/n to get her to set you straight?” 

A part of him didn’t like the fact that she had your number, another part of him wanted your attention on him, and that phone call would do just that. “I don’t fucking care Haley.”

Haley huffed, then walked off, lifting her phone to her ear. 

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

“Hey Haley,” you sniffled. Conrad had cancelled on you at the last minute, saying he was ‘too busy to go to some kook-bullshit’. 

“Hey Y/n, can you tell Rafe to go fuck himself for me?” She seethed. 

“Haley, this really isn’t the time,” you sighed. “I’m sorry I just-”

“You told me you’d be here for me?” Haley scoffed. 

“Yeah, a-and I am I just-”

“So be here for me. I’m handing the phone to Rafe, talk to him.” 

“Hi,” it was Rafe’s voice, and you just wanted to cry harder. 

“Hi,” you choked out. “What’s going on?”

Rafe heard how your voice broke and his senses went into overdrive. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you tried to steady your breathing. “Tell me what you said to Haley.”

“I didn’t say shit that wasn’t true. Now, where are you Y/n? What’s wrong?” Rafe was already grabbing his car keys from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry about our fight, I guess you were right. It wasn’t a date,” you sniffled. 

“What did that asshole do?” He growled. “Fucking piece of shit- listen I’ll be at yours in a few minutes, stay put.” 

“Rafe, go to Midsummers with Haley, please don’t worry about me,” you pleaded. You didn’t want his relationship to be ruined over you, and you didn’t want Haley to hate you forever because of a choice Rafe made. 

“Fuck Midsummers, and fuck Haley. You’re what’s important,” he assured you. “I’ll be there soon, ok?”

“Rafe please-” 

He hung up. 

“She knocked some sense into you?” Haley turned to him. 

“I’m not going to Midsummers,” Rafe muttered, brushing past her. He would burn every bridge he had to if it meant he got to you. 

“What?!” She shouted, stopping him by grabbing his arm. “Rafe!” “Fuck off, we’ll talk later,” he tried to brush her off, but she remembered what you’d said.

“Never take any of his shit, ok, promise me?”

“No. We’ll talk now. Me or her?"

“Her.” 

Rafe answered without a second thought. You were his destination, his journey, and his starting point. You inhabited his thoughts, lived in his head rent free, and you controlled him. You guided him, you knew him, and you loved him. As a friend at least. He just hoped it was more. 

Haley sighed, eyes clouding with tears. “Go.” 

“I was going to do that no matter what,” Rafe admitted, then brushed her off of him, running to his car. He got to your house in a record time of 5 minutes, and he ran to your bedroom. There you stood, mascara running, in your gorgeous pale pink dress with the prettiest flowers in your hair, and a sinking feeling his head gut told him that he was right. 

He was irrevocably, irreversibly, completely, head over heels in love with you. He reached out and took you into his arms, letting you cry onto his white shirt.

“He’s a piece of shit,” he whispered, holding you as you two sat down on your bed. “He didn’t deserve you,” he pressed his face into your hair. He draped your legs over his, holding you against him in a bridal hold as you cried into his neck, one arm supporting your back and one holding you closer to him. “You deserve so much better,” he purred. “You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful,” he whispered. “So gorgeous.”

“Rafe, you should be with Haley,” you wiped your eyes. 

“We broke up,” he admitted. This was the moment, his moment. The moment where everything would change. It just depended on whether it was good or bad. “We broke up because I’m in love with you.”

You took your head out from his neck and stared at him, then you started laughing. “You’re in love with me?” You asked through laughter. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. 

And then it all clicked for you. You were in love with Rafe Cameron. Soft, uncontrollable, hilarious, handsome, Rafe Cameron. 

“Shit,” you sighed out, a shocked look on your face. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Rafe’s smile brightened. “Yeah?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, a smile on your lips. 

Rafe’s attention landed on your lips, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He grabbed your face, pulling it up to his own, and kissing you. It was like he was 15 all over again, but so much better. 

You pulled back after a moment. “You’re totally broken up with Haley, right?”

He nodded, his eyes staying on your lips, already addicted to the way you tasted. “Yeah,” he mumbled, only half listening. 

“Good,” you smirked. “Because we have to get to Midsummers.”

Rafe’s interest was piqued. “Why?”

“Traditions are tradition Cameron,” you smirked, fixing up your makeup. “We have to get drunk and watch Jaws in the lighthouse. Or did you forget?” 

Rafe could feel himself getting hard but he just smirked. “I didn’t forget.”

“Good,” you smirked, pressing your lips to his once again. “So let’s go.”

He nodded, following you like an overactive puppy. 

God, he was whipped.  And he didn’t even care. He had you.

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

obx masterlist :)

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

[anadiasmount]

aftermath bliss - jb blurb.

quick sum: your champions league winner taking it all in with you alongside.

masterlist | jude’s masterlist

you quite frankly had to pinch yourself many times throughout the night. to ensure if this was reality or just a dream. it seemed like a dream. not just for you but for your dear boyfriend as well.

the endless nights. endless games. endless trainings. endless happiness yet disappointments. despite it all, he made it. the bubble of proudness never left your chest. the moment from when he stepped onto the pitch, to now where he is now with the similar smile as a kid as he lifts the trophy into the air.

you genuinely could not believe it whatsoever. and all you wanted to do was tell him how incredibly proud you were of him. what he succeeded and made history on this very night. despite it all you let him have his moment. the dream he wish and promised himself as a kid. this was his moment and you didn’t dare for yourself or anyone to ruin it.

you and his mom spoke endlessly as you waited for jude. where she express just how equally happy she was, especially since she was his mother and it was another level of emotions. “my baby… he did it,” she said turning to you, tears bliming her waterline. you saw him approaching you “go and give him the warmest and tightest hug ever,” you encourage, watching the moment breakdown.

“you two as well!” you push jobe and his father towards him where they laugh.

once again this was their moment as a family and you respected that. you watched closely, hands interlocked and watching your boyfriends face twist from so many faces as he spoke quietly with his family. you had some of the wags approach you and take pictures, making small talk with them and reminiscing the whole evening.

“there he is!” you cheered as your boyfriend approached you, grabbing your face before leaning down and kissing you desperately. to show you how he felt in the moment. his lips molded with yours for a few seconds, making your tummy flutter with butterflies and excitement. jude pulled away, resting his forehead against yours as he stroked your cheek.

“walk with me.”

you didn’t say anything else. you followed as he led the way, helping you over the barrier as he tucked you in close to his side, your hand finding home around his back, stoking his spine lovingly. the two of you walk around the pitch thanking the last bit of fans and taking pictures since jude begged for them. wanting to share the moment with you.

the two of you sat on the pitch, jude’s hand helping him stay up and legs spread apart as you came between them, your back resting on his chest, feeling the cool metal that hanged around his neck. “i’ve dreamed of this as a kid y/n… and to win it here in my country? with you and my family supporting me? you have no idea what’s running through my head,” jude suddenly says grabbing his face, the shock and aftermath present still.

“i feel like it all went so fast! from birmingham, to germany, then boom, now i’m at madrid? it feels too good to be true,” jude confessed. you turned swiftly holding his face, his dear brown eyes and bright smile immediately softening and relaxing against your hold.

“look around jude, you wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the dedication and overall achievements in the sport you’ve done. you’re here today because you put yourself through it. the hard work, sacrifices. i’m so incredibly proud of you jude,” you relish, jude scoffing a happy breath, tears wanting to run down his face. “i can’t express just how much i am. you know i always am, but this? this is your moment jude. you did it for the baby jude, you made and completed his wish to come true.”

so many times where he expressed as a kid what meaning this title would mean to him. and you with by saying that it would make it surreal for him. his eyes went everywhere, looking at you with pure adoration and love. the adrenaline and rush returning through his veins when you smiled for you, granting jude a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

no words needed to be said or exchanged. the moment itself was enough to speak actions over words. maybe it was still the shock present, or the fact that in this moment it was all said and done. “i love you jude,” you reminded him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a kiss against his knuckles, laughing at how you left a mark thanks to your lipstick.

“i love you more darling. have no idea what you mean to me, how thankful i am for you to be put into my life,” jude gulped deeply, closing his eyes when you giggled. “is it strange i don’t want to leave?” jude said after another couple of minutes where it was shared in either pure silence or tiny sentences. you looked around, the wembley stadium almost empty. “nope. wouldn’t blame you either,” you laugh.

“but you still have tomorrow where you will celebrate this beautiful trophy with the fans who also brought you here,” you point out watching jude nod, agreeing with you. “will you call me silly if i wear my hat?” jude pouted, grabbing your cheek once you laid your head back onto his chest, just below his shoulder, “when aren’t you being silly?” you retorted.

“you’re right,” jude hummed cocking his head to the side as he capture your lips in a soft kiss, lingering them there as every ounce of love was shared, feeling you smile against his lips. “are you gonna wear it?” you ask, playing with the medal, your champions league winner.

“im in england after all.”

[1427]

something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove. 

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar. 

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost. 

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be? 

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room. 

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief. 

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.” 

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh. 

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.” 

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?” 

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room. 

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway. 

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there. 

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else. 

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet. 

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl. 

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence. 

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything. 

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end. 

Why won’t he look? 

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing. 

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward. 

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.” 

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.” 

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally. 

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know. 

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more. 

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady. 

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him. 

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing. 

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.  

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground. 

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?” 

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all. 

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do. 

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile. 

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going. 

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot. 

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly. 

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them. 

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more. 

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him. 

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans. 

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened. 

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him. 

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water. 

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

 You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person. 

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room. 

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?” 

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’. 

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth. 

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant. 

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body. 

He needed more. He needed to watch you again. 

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that. 

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him. 

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you. 

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained. 

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly. 

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own. 

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good. 

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on. 

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t. 

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you. 

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

[penkura]

OP Men as Dads Part 2

Note: I chose to do another five OP men for this one!! My brain won't shut off about these men being dads, I'm losing it omg. I hope these are good, I kind of struggled a little but just wrote whatever came to mind. Maybe I can do a part three at some point with more of them! I have a small idea for Mihawk and Franky, but that's it so far. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Sticking baby Ace for the image because I got nothing else lol.

Part One Here!

Kid is a boy dad, I’m sorry he just is. I can’t see him with a daughter really, unless she’s the youngest and was a surprise. But anyway! He’d have three boys that were all three years apart, and all are exactly like him. You really do love your sons and husband, but how you wish at least one of your boys was calm. The four of them are always roughhousing to the point you’ve had to set rules to keep from Kid accidentally hurting them, or your children from breaking things when he isn’t involved. When you have a set of twins a few years after your third son, another two boys, you’re done and just accepting your fate as a boy mom. You and Kid love all your boys though, neither of you would change anything, especially when your youngest ends up being a momma’s boy who’s finally calm and would rather spend his time with you than anyone else. Kid isn’t jealous, he swears.

~~

Usopp I can see with two girls! A few years between them, and they’re both the light of his life aside from you of course! Every story he tells them before bed makes them both so excited to grow up and become Pirates themselves, brave women of the sea! The oldest will want to help Usopp and Franky with inventions and fixing up the ship, while the youngest wants to be a sniper like her dad. You have no complaints about either one of those, more than grateful they both want to take after Usopp and following in his footsteps. Your girls absolutely love their dad, you get a little jealous sometimes, but getting to watch the three of them bond is your favorite thing in the world. It might make him a little emotional, especially after not having Yasopp around as he grew up.

~~

Shanks, I’m sure a lot are wondering about, would be such a great dad, we’ve seen him with Luffy and Uta, there’s no way he’d let down his biological kids imo. I see him with a son first, one with his hair that’s even more wild, and then twin girls! They’d all be about four years apart in age, but they’d run him ragged day in and day out. He'd teach your son how to wield a sword and help him develop his Haki, while your daughters will learn more hand to hand combat, though your youngest will join the sword lessons when she’s ready. When they’re little, he lets your girls put pins and braids in his hair, while telling all three of them stories about his time on the sea. The rest of the crew adores your children, Shanks knew they’d all be great uncles to your little ones.

~~

SHACHI WOULD SUCH A GOOD DAD OMG. You think I’m pushing Penguin propaganda, I’m here for Shachi now too. He’ll have two boys within two years of each other, yes the second is a surprise but so beyond welcomed, and then several years later a little girl that has all three of them wrapped around her finger! Your daughter would have his red hair, she’d just be the prettiest little thing, with chubby cheeks and her hair pulled back into two little ponytails. Your sons would have a mix between your hair and Shachi’s, both taking more after their dad in personality than anything. Of course, Shachi will teach all three of them to defend themselves, but especially your daughter since she’s the baby and he just wants her to be safe, even with her big brothers as her guardians.

~~

Rosinante, Corazon, however we wish to call him, he would be the best dad out of this group, I’m sure of it. Apart from taking in Law, he’d have two of his own children, a girl first and then a boy a couple years later. Law would act as a big brother to the two, it’d be the cutest thing ever. While your daughter would be outgoing and ready to take on the world, your son would much shier and would rather hide himself behind you or Corazon, normally his dad though. Corazon would NOT let Doflamingo around them; he’d probably keep the three of you a secret, maybe even his adoption of Law too, just to keep you all safe. He’s lost family before, he doesn’t want it to happen again, even if that means picking up and moving you all where his brother can’t find you. Apart from that, Corazon would make sure all of you had everything you needed, and your son would hold onto him through everything.  Your daughter would attach more to Law, but that’s perfectly fine, he’s accepted her as his new little sister and wants to protect her, he wants to protect your son too where he can. Your daughter would also want to keep her baby brother safe, not one of you would let a thing happen to a hair on his head. Corazon finally has a family again, a family of his own, he’s not letting anything happen to any of you anytime soon.

[jareaul0ver]

can you write a fic where nika and reader have been doing long distance for a while and reader surprises her at a game or something. i need more nika fluff in my life

wc: 826 warnings: none, just fluffy pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

“Don’t you have to get ready for your game soon?” Your voice echoed out of the speaker of Nika’s phone.

She sighed. “Yeah, but I wanna talk to you more. I wish I could see you, why didn’t you FaceTime me?” You smiled, hearing the pout in her voice.

“My FaceTime isn’t working, I told you. I tried to call my mom and it wouldn’t go through.” You lied straight through your teeth. Nika didn’t know that though, she always believed what you had to say, for better or for worse.

“Now go get ready for your game, it’s uh.. almost 4:30 in Seattle right?”

You heard a rustling coming from your phone and you assumed that Nika was getting out of bed. “Mhm, fine, whatever you say.” You giggled and you heard a small laugh come from her. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, go crush it out there.” You two said your goodbyes and once you hung up, you felt a smack on your arm. “Hit me again, I swear to God, Paige.” You glared at the blonde standing next to you.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Our plan is working!” She grinned.

You rolled your eyes and pushed her by her shoulder. “Our plan. You're only here because I invited you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, lets kill some time and go get your girl some flowers."

Although you wanted to be up close to see Nika's game, you had to sit further back to stay hidden. You wanted this to fully be a surprise that you were here, you didn't go through all the little white lies for nothing.

The game was nearing the end and Seattle was down by a few points. You bit your nails anxiously, scared that the outcome of the game would ruin the surprise.

Seattle's coach called a time out and you watched Nika with keen eyes. You'd always admired her passion for the game, but you'd only ever seen her play when she knew you were going to be there.

Seeing her playing this good, for a professional team, when she didn't even knew you were there? It made your heart swell. Whether she would admit it or not, she would do everything to impress you on the court.

But with her not knowing you were there, she played for herself and her team, and it was a whole other side of her playing that you hadn't seen in a while. You were incredibly proud of her and how far she's gotten.

The game resumed and stakes were high. Seattle had managed to catch up, but a last second buzzer beater from the opposing team had dimmed their hope in winning.

Nika's shoulders immediately slumped and you found yourself frowning. Paige put a hand on your shoulder. "C'mon, let's go down and cheer her up."

You agreed and walked down to the staircase that led to the courtside seats. You hid yourself from Nika's gaze and let Paige approach her first.

The second Nika saw the blonde she smiled. She rushed over to her and hugged her. "The hell are you doing here?"

Paige hugged her back and laughed. "Wanted to surprise you." You smiled at the look on Nika's face. "I've got another surprise for ya."

Nika looked at her confused for a second before she saw you emerging from behind her. She froze in place for a quick beat before running over to you and almost tackling you.

You squealed at the contact and wrapped your arms around her. The feeling of her breath hit your neck, and everything felt like how it did before she left. You missed moments like these, you craved them, and Nika did too.

She pulled back and held your face in her hands. "You're here?! You're here!" She kissed you briefly before pulling you back into a hug.

You giggled and let her soak in the moment with you. "I'm here." You mumbled into her ear. The feeling of her lips pressing small kisses on your neck made your knees weak. "Baby, stop." You laughed out.

She pulled back and your eyes met her glossy ones. "I just.. I can't believe you're here. When did you?-"

"Me and Paige flew out this morning. That's why I was up so early and why I couldn't facetime." You held out the bouquet of flowers you had for her. "And these are for you."

She took them and wrapped her arm around your waist. She pulled you into her side and kissed your temple. "So you lied to me? Hm?" She teased playfully.

"Guess so, but it was worth it, wasn't it?" You leaned your head against her shoulder and angled it to look up at her.

She looked down at you with pure admiration. "It was, this makes up for the loss. I love you."

[revelboo]

Hello. Your stories are beautiful. Can I ask you write something with Optimus Prime IDW? Thank you very much in advance. ^^

Sure

Gravity Pt 7

IDW Optimus x Reader

• You’re dancing again and he watches from the corner of his optic as he works, one foot sliding sideways before you shift your weight and spin. Servos stilling on his keyboard, he rumbles softly. Likes to watch you move, the way you can twist and bend like you’re boneless. And you catch him watching, flashing your little teeth at him with a laugh. “When I was a kid, my mom was obsessed with living out her dumb ballerina dreams through me,” you say, arms above your head. “Bet she’s rolling in her grave that I ended up an exotic dancer.”

• “Exotic?” He asks and he’s so innocent, it’s sweet. Running through the moves helps you relax, gives your worry and tension an outlet. You wonder what the big guy would think of you if you actually explain it to him, your slide from rebellious teenager to desperate adult. Because working in that dump was only the latest in a string of bad decisions. Every attempt you make to claw your way out of the gutter only driving home that maybe that’s where you belong. You’d resigned yourself to it, gotten tougher and blunter out of necessity, but somehow you can’t make yourself tell him that. He’s just this pinnacle of good and right. And he might not touch you so kindly or at all if he knew how awful you really are. “You were alone?” He asks when you don’t respond. Worrying over you like he always does.

• Blowing out a breath, you rake your fingers through your hair to send it into disarray and stare up at him. Little teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you wave a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, big guy,” you tell him, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “I can take care of myself.” You can, but still. You’re his to care for and protect, but he won’t pry or push. Hopes you’ll open up to him eventually. Entrust your burdens to him.

• Reaching out slowly as if giving you the option to avoid his touch, he hovers a servo just in front of you and you lean into it, wrapping your arms around that big digit. “I know you can, but I’ll still here if you need me,” he says and the that deep, rumbling voice rolls through you. Makes you realize that you’ve stopped plotting escape or even looking for an opportunity. That you don’t want to go back to your old life. There’s no one left to care for you or even notice that you’ve disappeared except your creditors anyway. Sure, Optimus is only invested in you to keep his own people safe and out of a weird sense of honor, but you want to pretend he really cares. That you belong here and that this time home won’t be ripped out of your fingers.

• “Sure,” you say, little arms hugging his servo and the feel of your heart beating against him. So small, but you try so hard to be independent. Not asking him for anything, even though he’d try to find you whatever you need to be happy. Smiling all the time like you are now, even though it’s brittle. Pretending nothing touches you, when he can tell it does. And all he can do is wait for you to trust him. To really talk to him, because until then he’ll hoard those details of your past that you accidentally let slip.

Previous

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[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

��Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[meazalykov]

bayern drama

sydney lohmann x platonic!jamal musiala x bayern!reader

summary: your girlfriend doesn't like what she sees

warnings: jealousy

you take a deep breath, glancing at the crisp, beige, newly released bayern munich kits you're about to wear for the first time. 

it’s a mix of excitement and nerves, your fingers running over the fabric on your body as you sit in the lounge area. the room is filled with energy, players milling around, chatting, waiting for their turn in front of the cameras. 

the men's and women’s teams are mixing today, and for some reason, that makes the anticipation more intense.

“you look fascinated, do you like the new kits?” jamal asks, sinking into the seat next to you, grinning like the goofy friend he always is. 

you’ve known jamal for a while, both on and off the field. not just because you share a team connection, but because of kyla, your cousin—his girlfriend. 

the two of them had been together for over a year now, and it was still a little surreal to think about how small the world was. kyla and jamal? the shy football star and your wildly outgoing cousin? who would’ve thought?

“yeah,” you nod, offering a small smile. “just don’t let me outshine you in front of the camera, musiala.”

he laughs. “we’ll see about that.”

you lean back, watching as some of the others are called for their shoots. sydney is across the room, deep in conversation with some of her teammates, her blonde hair shining under the lights. 

she glances your way, a quick smile passing between the two of you before she turns back to talking. 

you've been with sydney for about eight months now, and despite being teammates, it’s never felt like too much—if anything, it feels right. 

the shared routines, the chemistry on and off the pitch, the little moments between training sessions. you two just fit.

still, today feels different. maybe it’s the mingling of the men's and women's teams, the unfamiliar setup. it’s not every day you get thrown into a photoshoot with jamal musiala, of all people. 

it should be fun. light. nothing serious.

"so," you start, leaning your elbows on your knees as you look at jamal, "how’s kyla been?"

he smiles at the mention of your cousin. "she's good. busy with school and all, but you know her—she never slows down."

"yeah, she really doesn’t," you say, shaking his head with a fond smile. 

"she keeps me on my toes." he laughs. 

"as she should," you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "you're lucky to have her."

jamal grins, clearly enjoying the banter. "trust me, i know."

before you can say anything else, sydney’s voice cuts through the conversation. 

“hey, what are you two talking about?” her tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t quite place.

you glance up at her, and she’s standing there with a hand on her hip, eyes flicking between you and jamal. she walks over and plops herself down next to you, closer than necessary, her hand sliding onto your thigh. 

it’s subtle, but you notice. the way she’s suddenly more... present.

“just talking about kyla, my cousin on my mom’s side of the family” you say, giving sydney a reassuring smile. 

“jamal’s still somehow managing to keep up with her.”

jamal chuckles and jokes, “barely. she’s a handful.”

sydney hums, but doesn’t say much else. her fingers drum against your leg, her body leaning into yours just a little more than usual. 

you glance at her out of the corner of your eye, sensing something off. it’s not like her to be this... clingy. possessive, even.

jamal seems to notice it too because he raises an eyebrow, shooting you a questioning look. 

you shake your head slightly, hoping he’ll get the hint to just ignore it.

"so, are you two doing anything special this weekend?" you ask, trying to shift the focus away from whatever weird vibe sydney’s giving off.

jamal opens his mouth to answer, but sydney cuts in, her voice a little too sweet. "oh, i'm sure they’ll be busy. right, jamal?" her arm tightens around your waist as she speaks, her gaze locking on jamal like she’s challenging him.

jamal’s eyes widen slightly, and he lets out a nervous laugh. "uh, yeah, we’ve got a few things planned." he glances at you again, clearly picking up on the tension. 

"you know how it is. always something going on."

you bite your lip, trying to keep the situation from getting too awkward. but it’s hard not to notice the way sydney’s holding onto you, the way her body language is practically screaming insecurity. 

it hits you then—she’s jealous. of jamal. of your conversation with him. it would be almost funny if it wasn’t so out of character for her.

"babe," you say softly, leaning closer to her, "what's going on?"

"nothing," she says quickly, but you can tell by the way her hand tightens on your thigh that it’s anything but nothing.

you exchange a glance with jamal, who’s trying his best to stifle a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. he gets it now too. the fact that you both know what’s happening seems to make it even funnier.

"you're jealous, aren’t you?" you ask, teasing her lightly, but there’s a gentleness to your tone.

sydney scoffs, but her cheeks turn pink. "of course not. why would i be jealous?"

"oh, i don’t know," you say, grinning now. "maybe because you think jamal and i are getting too chummy?"

"please," sydney rolls her eyes, but there’s a playful smile tugging at her lips. "i wasn’t worried about you."

you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"

she smirks. "i was worried about him."

jamal lets out a bark of laughter at that, throwing his head back. "me? seriously?"

"you’re too pretty for your own good, musiala," sydney says with a shrug, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s not actually serious.

you laugh, shaking your head as you wrap an arm around sydney, pulling her closer. 

"you don’t have to worry about either of us, babe. jamal’s with kyla, and you know i don’t swing his way. or any guy’s way, for that matter."

sydney pouts a little, but you can tell she’s already starting to relax. "i know. i just... didn’t like how cozy you two looked."

"we’re just friends," you say softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "and besides, you’re the only one i’ve got eyes for."

sydney smiles at that, leaning into your embrace. "good. because you’re mine."

jamal shakes his head, still laughing as he stands up. "i’m gonna leave you two lovebirds alone and talk to michael before i get caught in the middle of something."

"smart move," you call after him, watching as he heads off to join olise by the snack stand. 

you turn back to sydney, your fingers gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "you okay?"

she nods, but there’s a sheepish look on her face. "i’m sorry. i don’t know what got into me."

"it’s okay," you say softly, squeezing her hand. "but you don’t have to worry. ever. i’m all yours."

sydney looks up at you, her eyes softening as she leans in for a kiss. "i know. and i’m sorry for being weird. it’s just... i love you, and sometimes i get scared that someone else will see what i see and try to take you away."

you smile against her lips, pulling her closer. 

"no one’s taking me away from you, syd. i love you too much."

sydney smiles, her hand resting on your cheek as she kisses you again, deeper this time. 

"good. because i plan on keeping you forever."

you laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the woman in your arms. 

"forever sounds pretty good to me."

masterlist

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: zb1 as your boyfriend

a/n: these get progressively longer the more you go on and that’s my bad, i’m just insane over this group idk …

notes: long hair is implied in jiwoong’s, yujin is not included due to his age!, i did not proofread this so sorry for typos

wc | 3.5k

jiwoong

i think this would be so much fun in the like adult way … like doing taxes together and watching tv shows

dating jiwoong means SETTLING DOWN!!! this is for the long run for real

in all seriousness i think being jiwoong’s s/o means you will feel very secure at all times

he isn’t interested in anyone but you … like seriously

looks at you like you’re the only person on the planet when you’re out and about

if anyone hits on him, he shuts it down SO fast that you’ll barely have time to process what happened

in terms of love languages, i’d say his is probably acts of service in both giving and receiving

there’s no better way to show him that you love him than taking care of little chores around the house (especially the ones he usually does) or picking up some toothpaste when he’s running low

in the same way, he loves to do those things for you—he really appreciates the way you smile when you find out he did the dishes for you <;<3

overall, a very sweet relationship, and a very very long-term one

IT’S ALMOST LAUGHABLE how gentle Jiwoong is as he braids your hair, pulling each strand off your head with such precision and cautiousness that you’d think he was braiding strands of pure gold. Weddings were long events, and you’d noticed that, every time you went to one, you ended up with a million knots in your hair that you had to spend extra time brushing out after.

So, Jiwoong had the bright idea to braid your hair—and insisted he do it for you, so that you wouldn’t have to keep your arms raised for so long, or something. You just didn’t think he’d try this hard at it.

“You can go a little faster, you know,” you said, painting your eyelashes with mascara. “If you go any slower, we’ll be late to the ceremony.”

“We can just sit in the back,” he mumbled, continuing to put one strand over the other. “I need to make sure it’s well-done so it doesn’t just knot your hair even worse than leaving it down does.”

You sighed, a little smile appearing on your face. “Whatever makes you happy,” you sighed, continuing to put on your mascara. “Who am I to say no?”

zhang hao

i feel like the most prominent part of dating zhang hao is trying to figure out how you scored him LOL

i mean look at him … he's so perfect it’s almost painful

and he’s such a good boyfriend that literally all of your friends are so jealous … and he’s the only guy they haven’t called ugly so that’s a plus LOL

i will say though dating him has to mean you’re really comfortable with yourself because just about everyone shoots their shot with him

obviously he turns them down but he’s too nice to do it in a way where they’ll actually be scared off (cough jiwoong cough)

he’s very loving and very appreciative, and loves hearing about everything you do

tbh he just loves you

his love language is definitely physical touch, but in the like sweetest way possible

he holds your hand and swings it around when you’re out and about, he leans his head on your shoulder when you watch movies, he puts his head in your lap when you’re sitting on the couch…

and he always stares at you, which is super nerve-wracking, but he just loves you so much that he can’t help it

seriously has heart eyes for you

IT’S NOT ALWAYS that your mom calls, but you supposed today just had to be the day. As much as you love her, she tends to talk your ear off, which is something you’d rather not deal with at a random time in the middle of your day. Nevertheless, it was better to get it over with now rather than later.

Hao had been napping with his head on your lap when she called, and you’d hoped that would be a good excuse to hang up. Except, when you pleaded with your mom, telling her that Hao was sleeping and you didn’t want to wake him, she insisted that she needed to talk to you right then. So, for the past twenty minutes, you’d been listening to her talk about her knitting club while you ran your hand through his hair.

You’d also failed to notice that Hao had been awake since before she’d even called. Initially, he just wanted a few more seconds laying on you before you kicked him off (because your thighs were cramping and you needed to stretch), but he’d been pleasantly surprised when your attention was stolen by the phone call.

So, when you looked down and saw him staring at you oh-so-lovingly, you choked on air, causing your mom to frantically ask you what was wrong. All the while, he stared at you, wondering how he managed to find you (but shouldn’t you be asking that)?

hanbin

if you’re feeling unloved, just date hanbin and he will fix it right up for you

he is an endless pit of love and is just waiting to give it to someone (that someone happens to be you)

you’re like 90% sure he popped out of a cheesy romance novel and wandered straight to your door but i digress

everything about this guy is so pleasant that it’s almost nauseating

his mom, how clean his bedroom is, how much he happens to enjoy cooking, how much he loves all the things you suggest as date ideas, it’s so much that your friends are suspicious that he’s hiding something incredibly unforgivable

he’s not, though, he’s just like that

and he just happened to be truly, madly, deeply in love with you so congrats on that one!!!

hanbin’s love language is also physical touch (shocker)

he’s super clingy, especially when you go out together, and has to have a hand on you at all times (if you get separated it will literally ruin his day)

really loves to cuddle with you…for example, if you decide to take a nap without him, you will wake up wrapped in his impossible to escape koala hug

he also loves kisses. forehead kisses, cheek kisses, all kisses … he especially loves it when you kiss his tattoos

he gets super enamored with you when you give him the same energy back, so try that out, too

EVERY DAY, YOU GET HOME from work around the time Hanbin’s decided to start dinner, and, every day, you attempt the same little prank. Slowly, you enter your home, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

The sound of the nightly news fills your ears, and the smell of whatever Hanbin decided to make attacks your nose. As subtly as possible, you put your bag and keys down on a dresser you have in the entryway, removing your shoes and tiptoeing through the house as quietly as possible.

As usual, Hanbin’s back is facing the doorway, and he’s hunched over the stove, fiddling with whatever he’s making. You tip-toe run up to him, bumping into him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He giggles, as usual, and puts his hands on your arms.

“Hi,” you say into his back, which prompts him to turn around in your embrace, staring down at you with the most loving expression he could muster up.

And, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, he says, “I missed you.”

matthew

CUTE BOYFRIEND!!!

matthew is like so clueless in a relationship and he’s just kind of winging everything, which makes him about 70% funnier

you’ll be out shopping and he’ll pick something up, usually a trinket of sorts, look you dead in the eyes, and say, “is this something people get for their partners?”

if you say yes, it will magically appear in your bedroom like 4 days later and he’ll be oh-so proud of himself

your parents LOVE matthew, to the point where you begin to wonder if they like him more than they like you

it’s nice, though, because they’re more willing to help pay for your utility bill if they know matthew’s benefitting from it too LOL

he’s such a sweet boyfriend that sometimes you like need to stop and put your phone down

his love languages are words of affirmation on the receiving end and gift giving on the giving end

when you’re away from one another, he texts you selfies along with cute little summaries of what he’s doing and absolutely expects you to do the same

also sends good morning/good night texts if he can’t say it in person for whatever reason

also has some like tiktok-worthy beige flags (the comments say they’re all green flags)

like he asks you what your ring size is like once a month and then comes home with ring pops and goes “i had them custom made to fit your finger”

and you’re like “omg matthew i can’t believe you would do that for me!!!”

MATTHEW’S HANDS ARE poorly covering your eyes as he leads you to this mystery-location that he’d spent the entire day hyping up. He swore it was going to absolutely blow you away, and had even said that you’d be at a loss for words.

“We’re almost there,” he said, excitement dripping from his words. “Be careful, there’s a couple of steps here.”

You did your best to ascend without face planting, although it was a bit difficult given that Matthew was unknowingly rushing you due to his excitement. “Okay, are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

In a flash, he removed his hands from your eyes, and it takes you a second to realize what you’re staring at. It’s a table cutely decorated for some sort of picnic, with string lights overhead and a candle burning on the table. You realize you’re in your parents backyard pretty quickly, but the thing that really has you confused is the teddy bear sitting on the edge. It looks exactly like the one you carried around as a kid, albeit much cleaner—but you’d lost it when you were 10.

“I tore apart your house looking for it,” Matthew said, putting his head on your shoulder. “Mr. Tumnus, right? Like the Narnia character? He was behind the couch. I got him cleaned, too. Do you like it?”

taerae

swoon

UGHHHH taerae is so perfect

like he’s totally the boy next door, locker neighbor, church boy type of boyfriend

he asked you out on valentine’s day with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of like really pretty chocolate-covered strawberries and you’ve been whipped since

you’re both wrapped around each other’s fingers in the most severe way possible

you’re also definitely like a married couple, specifically a couple of grandparents who’ve been retired for like 30 years

you probably share a friend group, and everyone in the group considers you two the parents of the group (you’re the dad)

almost always, you have a third wheel, but that’s fine because you and taerae are good at making sure it’s not awkward (which is why people always want to come on your dates)

taerae’s love language is definitely quality time

more often than not you’re both doing something completely separate from one another and he doesn’t care, he just likes knowing that you’re around

i don’t see him being the touchiest person, even in a relationship, so spending time together is the only thing taerae needs to feel loved. if you never blow him off and spend all of your free time just sitting next to him, he’ll be entirely pleased forever and ever

SOMETIMES, YOU FORGET that Taerae is in the room with you, which tends to be more embarrassing than you’d have wanted it to be.

Once, early in your relationship, he’d come over and you’d been spending time in your room. Except, hours had passed without you saying a word to each other, and you’d forgotten he was even there in the first place. You were so engrossed in your latest craft project, attempting to crochet, that he’d blended into the scenery of your bedroom.

So, when you kept messing up on a particular stitch, you found it fit to stand up and absolutely scream at the top of your lungs. When you got done, you planned to sit down and keep doing, but you heard Taerae laugh nervously behind you, causing you to freeze up.

“Uh, what was that?”

You turned around, staring at him with what could only be described as horror written on your face. You stared at one another in complete silence for what felt like hours, although in reality it must’ve been no more than five or six seconds.

“I forgot you were here,” you finally choked out, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Taerae just laughed, and it only made you feel more miserable.

“You’re adorable, you know?”

ricky

ricky is such a sweet boyfriend

even if he’s a bit awkward at times he’s so nice to be around

i think he just cares about you so much that he fluctuates in the same way that you do…if you’re happy, he’s happy, if you’re sad, he’s sad, etc…

at the same, he’s always completely panicked that he is not doing enough for you

he constantly checks in to make sure that you are getting what you need from him, and, while he wouldn’t say it aloud, he appreciates it when you do the same

he doesn’t like conflict so he pretty much does anything he can to get rid of the problem before it happens

as such, if he finds out anything upsetting, he will approach you about it instantaneously

i think ricky’s love language is gift giving, though, both on the receiving end and on the giving end

whether it’s an origami flower made out of a receipt you got or a pretty necklace you found while out and about with friends, ricky treasures it like it’s his child

almost every gift you’ve gotten him is displayed in his room somewhere, like he’s got a whole shelf dedicated to things that you gave him …

all of his gifts are incredibly well thought out too even if they’re last minute

he also tends to just give you anything that you express literally any interest in

you like the hat he’s wearing? okay it’s yours now

“no i mean that i like it on you!!”

he doesn’t care it’s yours now

THANKS TO A FAMILY VACATION, you hadn’t been able to see Ricky for a week, which had been the end of the world for both of you. So, the moment you got back home, you ditched the comfort of your room to head straight to his house.

The moment he opened his front door, you collapsed into his arms, taking in the scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of laundry detergent coming from his sweater. Then, you realized that the sweater he was wearing was new.

You leaned back to get a better look at it, taking it in. “I like it!” you exclaimed, smiling up at him. He tilted his head in confusion, staring back down at you.

“Like what?”

“The new sweater.”

Without even skipping a beat, Ricky tugged it over his head, causing your mouth to drop open a bit. “Wait, no—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he’d pulled it over your head, and was waiting for you to put your arms through the sleeves. He smiled, happy with his sudden attack. “I knew you would, so I got two.”

gyuvin

dating gyuvin is so much fun

you were probably friends before you started dating, so when you start dating, it’s like your friendship amped up 200% along with like some kissing and stuff LOL

he knows you inside and out, to the point where you wonder if he knows you better than you know you

he also definitely had a crush on you for a loooong time before he acted on it so he remembers little details you shared in passing from years in the past

as such he’s constantly taking you out on the most lovely dates you could possibly imagine

you mentioned you like hot chocolate two years ago on a friend group outing? well good news! gyuvin remembered and he’s taking you to a world-renowned cafe that’s specifically noted for its hot chocolate

you like barbie movies???? every single one is downloaded onto his computer. every one. and he knows which one is your favorite

i think gyuvin’s love languages are acts of service + quality time

he just likes doing things for you and he likes doing things with you too … he just likes you tbh

he’d be heartbroken if you ever said no to one of his meticulously planned out dates so make sure to never do that (his friends would also hate you instantly and being hated by sung hanbin AND park gunwook is terrifying so don’t do that)

strangely enough, when you reciprocate the energy and plan out intense dates based on little tiny information, he gets super flustered, so try it out if you can

THE FIRST THING that comes out of Gyuvin’s mouth when he comes into your living room is, “You remembered?”

You’re almost taken aback by the question, eyes widening the moment the words leave his mouth. He was asking you that? After he remembered every little detail about you, from your favorite episode of your favorite show to your favorite breed of dog?

“Of course I remembered that you like soccer. How could I forget that you like soccer?”

You’d set up a little mini-party for the both of you to watch the World Cup, equipped with snacks and a jersey for his favorite team. And, somehow, he was a blushing mess, as if he didn’t expect you to remember something so basic about him.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, turning away from you as he turned beet red. “I just…I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well, expect it more often,” you said, linking your arm with his, a bright smile on your face. “Cause I love you. And I love doing things for you.”

gunwook

yea gunwook is definitely your first love and you’re really hoping he’ll be the last

you probably had some sort of super dramatic lead-up to you actually getting into a relationship, so you’re also probably super attached to each other by the first day you’re calling him “boyfriend”

even though he’s young, gunwook feels a lot of responsibility for everything in his life, so being with you is essentially his wind-down time

as a result you have a lot of sleepovers, which include doing facemasks and going to bed at like 9pm because he’s so tired

and you just generally spend a lot of time together because you’re an oasis in the middle of the desert for him

gunwook feels really proud that he gets to have the title of “your boyfriend,” so be prepared for him to call himself that a lot

it makes him all giggly and happy, which makes you all giggly and happy, so you’re pretty much giggly and happy 24/7

gunwook’s love language is absolutely words of affirmation

he’s under a lot of pressure (student council vice president, class president, like good lord he is leading the people) so he just wants to hear that he’s doing well, especially from someone he cares so much about

even just telling him that he’s doing his best will make him melt in a pile of i-love-you putty

and he makes sure to do the same for you :)

IT’S NOT OFTEN THAT Gunwook breaks under the pressure, but when he does, it breaks your heart, too. It’s inevitable that he loses his balance sometimes, given the fact that he often takes on way more than he can handle, but you’re always there to pick up the pieces.

“You need to go to bed,” you say as warmly as possible, placing a hand on his shoulder. He continues to write a flurry of numbers onto his paper, trying to fulfill his plans of finishing all his weekend homework so he could spend the majority of it hanging out with you. “You can finish tomorrow morning, okay?”

Gunwook stops, finally, leaning back in his chair. He looks up at you, a frown on his face, and you can tell that he’s starting to unravel. You cup his face in your hands, looking down at him with the calmest smile you can muster.

“You did a good job, tonight. And calculus will be there for you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

You smile, a feeling of triumph overtaking you. “Thank you very much!”

thank you for reading!

[silverhairsimp]

The dad osamu brain rot has been unbelievably real.

AN: complete and utter fluff. Osamu and reader have a daughter. Minimal dialogue.

Also: how is this my first Osamu fic/drabble??? I love this man. thinking of doing an entire dad series... lemme know if you're interested. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Find: dad!Atsumu here

Banner from @cafekitsune

Your daughter is only four and osamu is convinced that these last four years have been some of the best of his life. Learning how to be a dad, watching you become a mom, coming up with ways to parent together, figuring out his daughter’s interests… there was such a sense of sentimental pride when his daughter begged to go to work with him on the weekends.

Which is where your husband can be found without fail. He’s got your daughter on the counter, lending a hand while she shapes her onigiri. She’s doing her best, which is why every time the two of them do this, Osamu asks his little girl “you sure you don’t wanna be like yer mama? Or find yer own thing you love?”

She might have his dark eye brows and those beautiful grey-blue eyes, but she looks like you, and it makes him love her even more. She just shakes her head and looks up at him with big eyes and a smile while she eats the sticky rice off her fingers. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

Her cheeks also have grains of rice sticking to them and osamu can’t help the way he wraps his arms around his little girl. Clinging to these moments for dear life because he knows how fast she’ll grow up. How distant these memories will seem one day...

She’ll probably change her mind about wanting to be just like him. Who knows, maybe she’ll start to look up to her uncle Atsumu and wanna be just like him. Or she really find her own interests and forget all about the times they spent in this kitchen together. He hopes that never happens and this will always be something the two can bond over, even when he starts to age and she goes off to start her own family. He knows that’s years and years away, but he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the future, then back to the past.

He thought he was getting his hopes up, but when you surprised him with that going home outfit: a dusty pink onesie decorated with tiny onigiri on it. He should’ve known then, that his baby would be a daddy’s girl through and through.

And it’s no surprise that when she could start talking and asking for things, that the first item she asked for was an apron to match her daddy. You and Atsumu had worked together to surprise them both with new ones, since your husband’s old one was more than a little worn out.

At just two and a half years old, your baby girl was jumping up and down with excitement, waving the apron in the air and running straight to her daddy so he could put it on for her. Osamu remembers looking at her with the softest smile and tears brimming his lash line while he held her close.

Her little voice pulls him out of thought once more, “daddy? Did I do good?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods his head, “you did great, sweetheart. Wanna try to wrap it now that you’ve got the shape?” She’s already reaching for the nori with a frustrated little pout when more than one piece sticks to her fingers. “Here,” he brings a wash cloth over, with a little dish of water, “let’s wipe your hands. It’ll make it easier.”

She follows his every instruction, folding the nori where Osamu pre-creased it. “Should we make mommy some for dinner? We can bring them home and surprise her?” The light in her eyes is one he remembers fondly. He and his brother used to get that same shimmer in their eyes when they’d land a perfect set in a volleyball match. And he’s caught himself even more often now that he has you, his beautiful wife, and his perfect daughter.

There’s so much in his life that he’s thankful for and it’s all started with you.

[spookysteddie]

Always Comin’ Home to You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ MINOR DNI

dec: after a fight with his step-mother Gator comes home late, scaring you. His bruises tell you of the day he had and all he wants is to feel you.

cw: Swearing, abandonment, mental / physical abuse (Roy to Gator), domestic abuse (Roy to Karen), bruises, mention of death, implication of anxiety, murder, toxic religion themes, gator calls his step-mom a cunt, crying, fingering, daddy kink, dd/lg themes if you squint, Gator calls himself her God (what's the name for that?), unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, promises. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.7k

a/n: I need Gator Tillman like I need to fucking breathe. This man is WOW. I just want to pet him and tell him he is, in fact, a winner and then suck him off. Anyway, I hope y'all like this heheh

...

Gator Tillman didn’t have a lot of good things in his life. 

Between his mother leaving, his father being as asshole and everything in between, Gator was a little fucked up and very morally gray. Doing his daddy's dirty work in the hopes Roy will finally be proud of him. 

Now, there was one good thing (or person) in his life, one human who brought out the best in him. One person who saw him for the person he was deep inside. The one who saw him as a winner. 

You. 

You were everything Gator could ever dream of, his perfect girl. 

“Gator? Baby have you seen my sunglasses?” You pull some clothes out of the hamper, double (triple) checking that they weren’t in there. “Do you have them? Are they in your cruiser?!” 

You hear Gators heavy footsteps before he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, “have ya checked on top of ya head?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and instantly you want to punch him. 

You were an angel and subsequently the sweetest girl. Shit, you make Gator catch and release the spiders you find in the house because you ‘want someone to grant you the same kindness in life’. Whatever that means. But of course he does it, because the last thing he wants is to make you cry. 

Well, that’s not true. He loves making you cry while your wrapped around his cock, fucking you so deep and hard that you can’t form a complete thought. Only then does he enjoy the tears streaming down your face. 

But at the same time, you had a wicked attitude. One he liked to fuck outta you at every opportunity. And when you look up at him he knows it’s coming. 

“Do they look like they’re on my fuckin’ head, Gator? Jesus Christ.” But he doesn't fail to notice you subtly check in the mirror to make sure they aren’t actually on your head. They aren’t, for the record. 

Gator is not like his daddy. Does he have his fathers attitude? Absolutely. But he has never raised his hand to you outside of the bedroom, much to his fathers dislike. Claiming he’s watched his father beat on his step-mother and even though he hates her – only because she gave birth to his twin sisters, giving his father two more chances to fuck their futures up – he doesn’t think it’s right. 

He balls his fists, nails digging into the center of his hand. He has too much shit to do today and, frankly, doesn’t have time for this shit. “Watch ya mouth bunny. Lucky my dad aint home to hear you take Christs name in vain.” 

Gator is right. His daddy already doesn't like you, doesn’t think you’re Godly enough. He also seems to think you’re an idiot simply because Gator does everything for you, even down to tying your shoes. It’s something Gator likes doing, taking care of you as it helps ease his mind. 

But at the same time Roy wonders how his son could catch and keep a girl like you. It’s emotional whiplash most of the time. Of course, Gator takes the brunt of his daddy's issues when it comes to you, never letting his daddy so much as look wrong in your direction. 

You sigh, running your hands down your pink skirt, “look, can you please help me find them? You know my eyes don’t do well with the sun bouncing off the snow.” 

His eyes soften, loving when you need his help, “I’m willin’ to bet they’re in the cruiser on the floor boards.” 

Your face heats as you remember exactly why they’d be on the floor of the cruiser, your escapades from your little meeting at the police station last night. There was always that preliminary fuck before going back to Roys (cause God forbid Gator ever come stay at your place. His daddy needs him nice and close.) considering you don’t know how to keep your moans quiet. So, he tires you out, not so much that you can’t drive back to his place, but just enough to where you’re silent during round two and three and four. 

The cold nips at your bare legs, winter just as brutal as every other year in this godforsaken state. You swear it never gets easier, winter, and the older you get the more you think about moving south. You think Gator would like the warmer weather, probably find the warmth soothing. 

“Ah ha! Got ‘em!” Gator hands them to you with a huge smile on his face. He looks almost boy-like. It’s rare he has a genuine smile, especially when his daddy is around. 

“Gator,” his step-mothers voice rings out from the porch, making you both jump. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his frustration. “Stop yellin’ cause your sisters are sleepin’!” 

“Karen, they’re at the other end of this fuckin house and your scratchy ass voice is louder than me.” 

You can see her huff, “I should call your father!” 

He sighs, turning on his heel, “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. Dad’s… a little busy today.” Gator knows exactly what his daddy is busy with, not that he’d ever tell you. Terrified that he would somehow put you in danger. 

You know that there was shit his daddy made him do. Things that forced him to come home with black eyes, bloody lips and bruises on his knuckles and body. It hurt your heart every time he came home like that, telling you it was nothing while he winces as he takes off his clothes. 

Karen seethes from the porch and you see her look from Gator to you and back. Gator, who notices everything, sees it and steps in front of you, pushing you behind him. “Don’t look at her like that, Karen.” 

That seems to annoy her more, “she better not be here tonight. You hear me? Don’t need your sisters hearin the stuff you two get up to at night.” 

“Not any worse than dads hands hittin’ your face while they sit at the kitchen table.” You cringe at his statement, seeing Roy hit Karen more times than you can count. “You don’t run this house. Or tell me what to do.” He spits on the ground and turns away, waiting till he hears the door slam to speak. 

“I fuckin hate her. She’s sucha little bitch.” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, breathing him in. “Can stay at mine tonight if you want. Don’t wanna get you in trouble,” you murmur into his shirt. “O-or we can spend a night apart. I know we haven’t done that inna while but just till this blows over an’ we know she didn’t say nothin’ to your father.” 

You know you're rambling, but all you want is to make Gators life comfortable and safe. You know there is a small chance that Karen will call Roy, tell him what happened, maybe even lie (she’s done that before) and say you upset her. If that happens, Gator will get it good, possibly another broken arm or dislocated jaw. That’s the last thing you want. You can feel you chest ache, eyes burning at the idea of Roy hurtin’ him. 

Gator pulls your face back from his chest, making you look up at him, “don’t you be worryin’ bout me now. Roy ain’t gonna do shit and I don’t sleep when you aren’t curled up next to me,” he kisses your forehead. “I’ll put some feelers out to see if that little bitch called him. Gotta meeting at 3 with him.” 

You nod, your hand coming up to fix his jacket. In reality, you just need something to distract from the burning behind your eyes. 

“Hey? I’m serious. I’ll be fine, okay?” He lets you go to reach into his pocket, pulling out some cash and handing it to you, “why don’t you go get your nails done or something, yeah?” 

You know refusing to take the money wont go well, so you take it, putting it in the pocket of your jacket. “Thank you, daddy,” you whisper out, knowing you aren’t really supposed to say that outside of Gators locked bedroom door. 

He lets it slide, the day has been stressful enough for you. “That’s my good bunny. Now, run along and I’ll meet you here at six okay?” 

You tilt your head, “no station tonight?” 

“Nah… Jerry is working and he’s got a starin’ problem when it comes to ya. Don’t feel like scoopin’ eyeballs out. Too messy.” 

You shudder but kiss him goodbye before getting in your car. You have a very bad feeling his 3pm meeting isn’t going to go how he expects. 

… 

You were right. 

You knew you were right the second you pulled up to his house at six on the dot and he wasn’t home. You reach for your phone, looking to see if maybe you’d missed a text, phone call, shit even an email from your boyfriend. 

Nothing. 

Even when you try to call him, you're met with a voicemail. You can feel the bile rise in the back of your throat, fear making your skin itch. Was this it? Was this the time Roy sends him out there to do his dirty work and he doesn’t make it home? 

He could be anywhere right now. Not only that, if he was dead, no one would do shit for him. No funeral, no service, nothing. His dad would go on and wipe his hands clean of his “loser” son, probably more than happy that the ties of his first wife are gone for good. 

Oh God, what if he was dying, the cold freezing the blood onto his skin, frostbite settling in. He could be so scared, praying to the God he doesn’t believe in that you come find him. His clothes are probably wet too, sticking to him thanks to the sn-

A knock on your window makes you jump, a yelp falling from your lips. You look over, seeing the blue of his jacket in your peripheral and the sight makes you gasp. You’re quick to shut off the car, jumping out and getting a closer look at him. 

He looks… awful. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, dry blood sticking to his split brow. There is a bruise on the other side of his face and under his left eyes, clearly he got hit in the nose. 

“Baby…” this time you can't stop the tears from falling. “Baby what happened?” 

He lets out a long, deep sigh, his hands resting on your cheeks. “Fuckin’ cunt called dad. Said I needed a lesson in respect. S’how I got the bruise on my left eye.” He wipes the tear that falls from your eye, his touch soft and kind, “sent me to do some shit across state lines. Guy beat the fuck outta me. He ain’t alive no more though.” 

You sniffle, “is it just your face?” 

He shakes his head but doesn’t say more. He knows you’ll see the rest once he gets you inside. Well … “we-I can’t let you sleep here tonight, Gator.” 

He shakes his head, “it’s fine. Dad said so himself. Come on.” 

And so he drags you inside, Karen looking like the cat that caught the canary as she watches you help Gator walk. You make a mental note to never forget this, never forget how she treats her step-son.

You push open Gators bedroom door, making sure to shut it silently and lock it before settling Gator on the bed. “Let’s get ya into some comfy clothes, yeah?” 

You crouch down in front of him, making quick work of untying his boots. 

“Baby, I can do this. I’m the one who's supposed to help you.” 

That only makes more tears burn your eyes. You hated that he never let anyone help him, hated that he always had to be strong, couldn’t ever cry, nothing. You hated Roy for making him like this and you hated his mother for leaving and not saving her only son from a life of pain. 

“Stop. Just-just let me help you, Gator please.”  You pull at the laces to loosen them and make it easier to slide off his boot, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. 

His boot comes off easy and you make sure you keep your hold on it so it doesn’t make any noise on the floor. Same with the second one. 

You stand, unclipping his thigh holster and setting it on the nightstand where he likes it. Incase of emergencies. Next is his belt, coming off with ease. He stops you when you get to his pants, making you look up at him. He hates the silver shining along your waterline. 

“I love you, little bunny.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it. 

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks as you say. 

You work on his pants, popping open the buttons with ease. Next you pull his shirt out of his pants and pull it over his head. By the time his shirt hits the floor, you’ve gotten a full look at his bare torso. A bruise is forming along his ribs, it’s really red and slightly turning purple. 

“Jeez baby,” your hands gently touch his skin and he hisses a little. “S-sorry.” 

He says nothing as he helps you pull off his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. 

“Stay here,” you tell him as you collect his dirty clothes and go into his attached bathroom. You sigh as you grab a face cloth, turning the water on so it heats up. It, of course, takes forever for the water to warm. Nothing like shit water heating thanks to the frigid winter. But once it does you wet the cloth and grab the first aid kit and go back to him. 

You’ve done this before, cleaned him up, you’ve even stitched him up. You’d like to thank the internet for telling you how to do that and you’ve gotten good over the last two years. 

“S’is gonna hurt. Luckily it looks like you don’t need stitches. Just don’t move while I work okay?” 

He nods, “yes, baby. Ya don’t have to do this. I know you don’t like blood.” This was true, you didn’t like blood at all, barely even being able to handle papercuts. But for some reason, when it comes to him, you can manage to push it aside. Cuts can get infected and when they’re on his face it means it could go to the brain faster. 

You carefully dab the wet rag around his split eyebrow, gently clearing off the blood and making sure that you don’t resplit the cut open. “I think it split from the swellin’ but I don’t think it needs stitches.” 

He nods slightly, “good. I was hoping it’d close on its own.” 

You put some wound cleaner on it before you bandage it. He might have a scar there unless he leaves it alone. But knowing Gator, it’ll open again. You clean up around his face and causing a hiss to leave his lips once you touch his cheek and eye. You apologize, applying some cream that makes bruises heal faster to his face and ribs. 

“That’s everything.” You force a small smile at him, tossing the wet cloth into the hamper and putting the first aid kit away. You get undressed, needing skin to skin contact. Then, you climb into bed, snuggling up to him, resting your head on the safe side of his chest. 

The silence stretches, Gators arm around your shoulders, his thumb moving softly. 

“I thought you were dead in the snow,” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them. 

He thumb stills for a heartbeat before resuming, “but m’not.” 

“I’m sorry this is the life you were forced into. It is not fair.” 

He kisses your head, breathing you in for a moment, “it’s not your fault, bunny. You didn’t do any of this. Shoulda kept my mouth shut when it came to Karen. Just… smile an’ wave.” 

You shake your head, kissing his chest, “not how it’s supposed to be.”

Gator rolls over you, forcing you on your back. He bites back a pained groan. “My sweet bunny, listen to me. I am here. I am safe. S’gonna take a lot more to kill me.” He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. 

You let your hands slide into his hair, deepening the kiss. Honestly, you just need to feel him. He knows it and if he’s being honest, he needs to feel you too. He’ll never say it out loud, but as he laid in the snow, doing his best to get the fucker he was sent to kill off of him, he was scared. 

Scared he would die and you’d spend the rest of you life wondering. He knew no one would fill you in and he knew his daddy wouldn’t have a service for him. You’d be alone, wondering what happened to him, praying to the god you don’t believe in that he’d come home again. So, he fought like hell and now, he really needs you. Needs to be inside you. 

You pull back, breaking the kiss, “Gator, we can’t.” 

“We can. Please baby.” Gator doesn’t beg, he didn’t need to when it came to you. Always more than willing to do what he says and give him what he wants. His begging makes you give in. 

His hands push your underwear aside, feeling how ready you already are for him. Always ready, always wanting and only for him. 

You pull him in for a kiss while his fingers find your clit with ease, swallowing your moans. He always knows exactly how you like it, fingers moving in swift circles and just the right amount of pressure. 

“So fucking pretty when you’re at my mercy,” he pushes two fingers inside you, the stretch making your brain go fuzzy. “Looked so fucking pretty in your little skirt and frilly socks. My little angel.” 

The way Gator is cooing at you, his fingers crooked up to touch the one spot that drives you nuts and you can feel yourself slipping into that headspace you both love. You’re trying so hard to be logical, knowing he’s hurt and can hurt himself further. 

“Thank you, daddy. Bought it because I thought you’d like it.” Your voice is getting small, breathy. 

He grins, kissing down your neck, “I love it. Love everything you wear. Look so pretty in your pastels.” His thumb finds your clit, a soft moan falling from your lips. It’s embarrasing how quickly you are to coming around his fingers. 

“P-please. Gator please.” 

He smirks, “use your words, sweet girl. Tell me what you want.” 

You can feel your body heat up from both the coil inside you winding tighter and the embarrassment of having to say what you want. “I-I need to cum. So bad.” 

The second the words are in the air, Gator pulls his hands away, leaving your orgasm to fade away. “NO! No, no, no, no please!” 

He sucks a mark into your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to sooth it.

“Need ya to cum on my cock, baby.” 

Before your brain can catch up, he’s sliding inside you. The stretch is something you haven't gotten used to in the last two years. It feels like he's splitting you in half, his cock filling you completely. 

“OH! Oh my god.” You're already panting, squeezing him so hard he’s fighting to not bust prematurely. 

Gator drops to his forearms and pumps his hips, getting right in your face. He’s so close you can smell the fruity scent from the vape he was no doubt huffing on before coming to see you. 

“S’right baby, I am your God and I love when ya pray to me.” 

You can’t help the way your cunt clenches, a moan falling from your lips that is just slightly too loud for either of your comforts. At the moment, you don’t care. You know Roy already got his fill of kicking Gatos' ass. He’s not going to worry about it tonight. 

“Daddy, please. I’m so close.” 

His hips are snapping hard, cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. He feels like he’s inside your throat and you can’t tell if his grunts are from pain, pleasure, or both. 

“Not yet. Almost there. D-don’t cum yet.” 

Your nails sink into his biceps, hips starting to stutter. 

“Please! Fuck! Oh god…” 

He smirks, eyes meeting yours, “yeah? I know how bad ya need it. How bad ya need me to fill this pretty, little cunt up. Breed an own ya f’ever? Hm?” His eyes are black and he looks absolutely feral. Primal.  

His hand snakes down the front of your body, finding your clit with ease. You gasp, thighs starting to shake. You knew you weren’t going to last but you needed his permission. You craved his praise and being in his good graces. You’d let him do anything to you, that’s how much you trust him. 

“Yes! Yes! Whatever you want. Anything.” You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, too cock drunk to think of anything besides him and what he’s doing to you. 

He laughs, seeing your eyes glazed over and tears of pleasure lining your eyes, “cum for me bunny. Do it.” 

It’s all you need to fall into bliss. 

His hand covers your mouth knowing how loud you’re about to be. His face drops into your neck as he cums with you, both of your moans muffled by each other's bodies. His cum fills you, leaking out as he brings you both down. 

His hand slowly leaves your mouth, head lifting to look at you. 

“I love you. I fuckin’ love you so fuckin’ much.” He leaves little kisses all over your face, trying to bring you back to him. “You hear me? M’never leavin’ you.” 

You take a shuddering inhale, trying to form a coherent thought, “P-promise?” 

You hold your pinky up to him, hands shaking while adrenalin continues to run through your veins. He giggles, hooking his pinky with yours, “promise. I’ll always come home to you. I will always fall asleep next to you.” 

He looks down, flipping your hand over and checking out your nails, “I can’t wait for these pretty, red claws to be wrapped around my cock.” 

Your chest lightens as you both laugh together.

[norizz-nation]

Hi, can you do readers spending summer holidays with the Sainz family and they are caught up because the reader is being loud with Carlos, pls

Girl, can’t blame reader for being too loud, carlos is just 😩🤌🏼

Sweaty summer ❤️

Summary: vacation with the sainz family was pretty fun until you both were caught up for being too damn loud, especially you

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, dacryphilia, daddy kink, face fucking, slut shaming

This year’s summer vacation was so much fun because you were spending your holidays with carlos’ family. Spending much more time with his mum, his cousins, his dad everything was so nice. They were treating you like a part of their family. You were loving every moment. You learned how to make carlos’ favorite childhood dish from his mom. She adored you. She loved the way you’d do anything for her son.

“Yes love, like that. You’re gonna have to let it boil for a while” carlos’ mother said as you did. You both were in the kitchen. Carlos was watching you from a distance, smirking. You looked at him catching his eyes as you smiled at him. His mom then left for some other work, carlos then got up and came closer to you. He then hugged you from behind as his face snuggled in your neck, kissing you softly. “So now you’re learning to cook my favorite dishes?” He asked teasingly as he swayed your hips along with his side to side. “Obviously” you said as you rolled your eyes at him sarcastically. You then turned around to hug him, wrapping your arms around him, feeling so safe and relaxed. His touch made you so complete and happy.

You’ve spent the rest of the evening with his family at the beach. You wore a dark red swimsuit that made your tan look so hot. You loved how carlos’ eyes never left your body. He was staring at you the whole time. Being so hungry for you. Its so cute how you could effortlessly make carlos horny. “Stop teasing me like that, you’ll regret it later love. You’ll beg for me to stop” he whispered in your ear as you smiled innocently at him. “Maybe that is what I want daddy” you said softly so then only he could hear your words. His jaw clenched at your words as you kept on pushing his buttons. But you knew you would definitely regret it later.

God, you really were regretting it. Although the house was supposed to be soundproof but at this point you’re not sure if it could protect your screams. The bed was squeaking loudly as carlos went deeper, thrusts getting harder. His breath getting heavier as his whole body started to get sweaty. You always loved sweaty summer sex with carlos. You were practically sobbing at this point, the pleasure being too much for you. Your ass making wet sounds every time his hips thrusted. “F-fuck fuckkk daddy, s-so good nghh!” You screamed as your body became sticky because of the sweat. Carlos then groaned loudly as he pushed your head down on the pillow, leaving muffled screams down your throat. “Stay quiet baby. Or else my family’s gonna know how much of a slut you are for me. You dont want them to think that now do you?” He said as his grip on the back of your head became stronger. You couldn’t take this anymore, it was too much for you. But you loved it. Every single moment of it. You grabbed his bedsheet as your vision started to get blurry.

Your muffled screams became louder as his thrusts became sloppier. You came already but carlos just couldn’t stop. He was definitely making sure you dont push his buttons in front of his family. Your pussy was sore at this point. “D-daddy its t-too much please” you begged as carlos slowed his pace, panting. He then smirked at you, running his hand down your shoulder. He then turned you over and grabbed your jaw making you look at him. His thumb brushed your bottom lip as he looked at it with a smirk on his face. “Daddy needs to cum you know that right? Be a good girl and take all of it. Let me fill your pretty little mouth with my cum. Because good girls always get rewards, right princess?” He said softly as your mouth opened at his words. He then brushed his tip on your bottom lip. His dick smelled like you, like your cum. Carlos’ hands cupped your face as he pushed his dick inside. You chocked instantly as your cheeks went red. “You can breathe through your nose baby” he said calmly but you were in such a great situation. Your spit dropped down your tits as your eyes teared up. Cheeks swelling up. His head fell back as his groan became louder. His dick twitched as your mouth tasted that perfect combination of sweet and salty cum of his. You moaned at the taste as you swallowed it all.

The morning was really refreshing. You saw carlos already brushing his teeth when you woke up. Towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, he showered. You both talked for a while as you got ready and got out of the room. You both stopped talking as you noticed everyone was eyeing you guys down. God, they were defined judging you two. You started to get embarrassed as you realized that maybe they heard you two. They heard you moan. They heard you call carlos daddy. Oh it was so embarrassing. “What is going on?” Carlos asked as he tried to put some levity in the situation. “Nothing son, just had trouble sleeping last night. It was quite loud” his mom said as your cheek turned red. You couldn’t even bear to look at her as carlos giggled. “Well you guys should’ve just ignored it” carlos said and you shook your head. “No no carlos. Im so sorry everyone, i know this was really immature of us” you said as you looked at carlos. “No love dont apologize, well at least we know that you guys truly love each other” his mom said as she came to hug you softly and all his cousins agreed to it. “Come on guys, she’s embarrassed” carlos said as he brushed your hair gently. “Its alright y/n, dont be embarrassed about it. Making love is so pure. Love shouldn’t be something to be embarrassed about sweetheart” his mom said as you laughed. The room filled with giggles and laughs. You then looked at carlos mouthing “i fucking hate you” as he started to laugh.

A/N: requests are open! feel free to ask what you want me to write! luv you ❤️

[pt2change]

my only one — park jihyo

pairing: mom!jihyo x mom!reader

genre: parents au, fluff, jihyo gets jealous, and it’s ceo!jihyo, she’s a hardworking woman, but always makes time for her family: ’))

word count: 1,060

↣ jihyo masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

it’s honestly not jihyo’s fault that she has to work on jay’s first day of kindergarten……

she was supposed to have the day off but things happened at the office and now she HAS to go in

but she put on a brave face and acted like it didn’t matter

……

but it did!!!!!

in fact she even cried out of frustration while she showered

she was missing her son’s first ever day of school

jihyo saw him in the morning before leaving and she just couldn’t bare the thought of missing him when he gets out in the afternoon :(

you and jihyo lived a few streets down from the school, so you ended up walking jay to school in the morning

you told jihyo that you were able to pick him up again when he gets out

which was fine but jihyo hoped she would make it out early

it’s 3pm when jihyo finds herself parked in front of the school waiting for you and jay so you could all ride home together

she leans on outside of her car after receiving your text about being at the entrance of the school waiting for the bell to ring

and minutes later the bell rings and jihyo spots jay walking out with his large backpack on

jihyo just can’t help but smile to herself when she sees the backpack bouncing up and down on his shoulders

or how his hair is ruffled compared to how nice and sleek it was this morning

or how he’s talking and laughing with another boy who jihyo assumes must be is a classmate

as jihyo looks past her son, shortly behind him is you, and her heart begins to flutter

you and jihyo met during a college class you both shared, and it took you both a while to come to terms with your feelings for each other and begin dating

3 years later and jihyo decided to propose, and that’s where you both are now; happily married with a little boy

and jihyo couldn’t be happier with how her future turned out

you were glowing, having your eyes set on your son as you talked with a man…

a man who jihyo can only assume was the father of the other boy jay was playing with

jihyo leans off her car and crosses her arms

and when you bend over slightly to hear what jay is trying to you amongst all the commotion of the other kids yelling and laughing

that’s when jihyo notices the man eyeing you up and down….

jihyo feels a hint of jealousy and anger because he totally just checked you out…..

and you turn back to the man to speak to him quickly, jay looks around and sees jihyo standing by her car

jay’s entire face lights up, “mommy!”

and jihyo pouts and feels her heart flutter again at the sight of her son running towards her

she squats down, opening her arms in time for jay to cling onto her, “hi baby”

she wraps her arms around jay and his tiny hands latched onto the back of jihyo’s shoulders

you smile to yourself as you watch from a distance

as you watch your wife and son hug, you notice jihyo staring at you

so you say goodbye to the man you had been making small conversation with and begin walking towards jihyo and jay

jihyo glares over to the tall man who’s holding his child’s hand

….. and he is checking out your ass as your walking towards her

jihyo’s focus changes when she hears your voice, “i thought it was just gonna be me picking him up”

and jihyo hikes jay on her hip, “i couldn’t miss the chance of picking him up on his first day”

she tickles his side making him giggle uncontrollably

right when you get closer to jihyo, she uses her spare hand to pull you in and gives you a hard, deep kiss

you laugh against her lips and and tap her on the shoulder, pushing her away slightly

your cheeks heat up, “hey, there’s people watching!”

jihyo lowers her hand to your waist, and grins “good”

and that’s when you put 2 and 2 together

“oh my god,” you cover your mouth as you let out a laugh, “you’re jealous”

jihyo shakes her head no, but you raise your eyebrows at her

she smacks her lips together, “he was staring at your ass!”

there’s a small gasp from jay’s mouth, “ooo, mommy said a bad word”

you open your lips and look back and forth between your wife and son

you furrowed your eyebrows, “yeah, mommy’s gonna be in trouble for saying a bad word”

jihyo faces jay, “oh you’re gonna snitch on me, huh?”

she tickles him again, and he squirms out of her grip and runs over to you holding your hand

you walk with jay to the back of the car and open the door, buckling him in

jihyo closes the car door, and right before she walks over to the drivers side you grab her by the hips

you kiss her softly, wrapping one hand around her waist and the other around her shoulders

you pull away from her soft lips and smile at her, “don’t be so jealous, babe. no one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

jihyo pecks your cheek, “you’re gonna make it up to me later.”

you nodded getting into the passenger seat, and jihyo makes her way around to the drivers side

and just before she gets in, she waves at the other parent who you had been speaking to.

……..

………

when it’s 11 pm and you and jihyo are laying next to each other in bed, she presses your side

“so what did you two talk about?”

you jokingly roll your eyes, “oh my god, you’re so jealous, it’s not even funny anymore.”

jihyo lays her arm over your abdomen, “but i just want to kn-”

she stops talking when you’ve turned to face her

“you know what?” you reach over to her give her a peck on the cheek

you move down to her neck and start kissing it slowly, “i’m pretty sure i have to make it up to now, huh?”

and you place kisses all over her neck and shoulders

“mmhm, you do”