#or the day my mom texted me to say that she knew who he was | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 6 months

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come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you.

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.

“Nice, nice. What else?”

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.

“Then I’m on my way.”

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”

You shake your head and gasp a small sob.

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.

His hand smooths over the back of your hair.

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.

At least, until he goes home.

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.

“That among other things.”

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.

“Okay.”

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

His lips pull into a melancholy smile.

“Anytime.”

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.

“I can’t do that, honey.”

“Why not?”

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.

“Because we’re not together anymore.”

“Why not?”

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”

When he kisses you, it feels like home.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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macfrog · 8 months

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sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She��s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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flkwh0re · 6 months

Text

Team Player

Pairing: Step-mom! Wanda Maximoff x Coach! Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Age gap (Legal), Step-mom/Step-daughter relationship, Coach/Player relationship, Cheating, Manipulation(??), Threesome, Mommy Kink (W), Degrading, Spitting, Cum play(??), Fingering, Oral, Dom/Dom/Sub dynamic, Natasha has a penis, Unprotected sex, Brief breeding kink, Face riding

A/n: Love this dynamic, very odd unusual pairing tho 😭

Word count: 1,568

Today was the day of your final game of your college teams basketball game. You anxiously waited around for your dad to show, knowing he’d probably not. He always had some excuse like being busy at work, or having made plans already.

That was never the case though, it was always the fact that he was just pure lazy and didn’t give two fucks about you and the stuff you did.

It hurt you, it hurt you badly. Your step mom, Wanda, on the other hand was amazing. Stepping up to take his place any moment she could. You honestly didn’t believe how the woman married that man, but little did you know she only stayed for you.

Wanda had developed a small crush on you, then it grew. Anytime she watched one of your games, she’d have an aching throb between her thighs. Watching your skilled body move around the court, the sweat dripping down your body. The tone in your voice as you yelled at your teammates, trying to get their attention. You truly were the mvp of the team, and everyone adored you.

As you stood around by the door waiting for him, one of your teammates informed you that your couch wanted you in the locker room. You huffed and began to walk away from the entrance, until the door flew open. You craned your head around and there stood Wanda.

“Oh my god Wanda you made it!” You yelped as your arms flew around her body, your taller figure towering her. “I couldn’t miss my favorite girls final game, now could I?” She chuckled, earning a giggling and smile from you.

“I’d walk you to the gymnasium, but coach wants me. Plus the game starts soon, so I’ll see you after?” You asked. “Why don’t I come with you? I have something I wanna try on you.” She hummed, to which you shuddered and nodded with confusion.

What could she possibly want to try, were your thoughts while you two walked to the locker room. Her hand resting on your back, almost too close to your ass.

Once the two of you reached the locker room, you guided her into where your coach was. “Coach Romanoff?” You asked, the older woman turning around. “Oh hello Y/n, I needed to discuss some things with you before the game. Who’s this?” Natasha pointed to Wanda.

“Oh this is Wanda, my step-mom.” Wanda extended her hand to Natasha. “Nice to meet you..?” Wanda paused, “Natasha.” She responded. Wanda nodded, “Nice to meet you Natasha.” Natasha nodded and took her hand, “Like wise.”

After a while of Natasha discussing game plans with you, Wanda’s hands rested on your shoulders. Massaging the tense muscles. “Detka, you’re so tense. What’s wrong?” She quipped, and you nervously eyed the two women. “I- just nervous I guess.”

You lied as well as you could, you knew it wasn’t believable thought. It was hard to hide the fact you had a massive crush on your step-mom, alone with your coach. You knew it was wrong, all so very wrong.

Natasha and you messed around a couple times, quickly shutting it down when you two were almost caught by one of your teammates. You didn’t know that Wanda knew though.

She had caught you texting her multiple times about non-basketball related things, but chose not to say anything. She did feel rather protective of you, which is why she insisted on coming with you to see Nat before the game.

Wanda hummed, then glanced up at Natasha. “I know that’s not the reason, it’s because your step-mom’s hands are rubbing across your muscles and your filthy coach keeps eyeing you. Such a dirty girl you are.”

A gasp escaped your lips, Natasha eyes painfully trained on Wanda. “What do you mean by that, Wanda?” She asked sternly, her teeth gritted.

“Oh don’t act like a fool, I know that you know you get Y/n here to whore herself out to you.” Another gasped came from you, Wanda’s fingers found your lips and pushed past them.

“Hush you little slut, don’t you act surprised either.” Whimpers escaped your lips, a groan erupted from Natasha. Wanda laughed darkly, her fingers toying with your mouth.

“Why don’t we help you out before the game? We can’t have you this tense before the game, it is the final after all.” Wanda suggested, and Natasha thought for a second before agreeing.

Wanda retracted her fingers from your mouth, earning a whine from you. Her hands slide down to the hem of your jersey, pulling it over your head followed by your bra.

Her long fingers tugged at your perky nipples, using your spit that lingered on her fingers to wet them. Wanda looked up at Natasha, “Don’t just stand there, get over here.” Natasha hurriedly walked over to the bench, sitting down next to you.

Her lips attach to your nipple, biting and sucking. As she did this, Wanda’s hands worked at your tense arms and shoulders. It drove you crazy having your step-mom standing behind you, while your coach was latched to your nipple.

Natasha’s hands wandered across your stomach, tracing your abs. Her hand then slipped past the hem of your basketball shorts, teasing your clit through your soaked panties. Her mouth left your tit, capturing your lips.

Her tongue tangled with yours, and you were so caught up in the kiss you hadn’t noticed Wanda moving to sit on the opposite side of you. Wanda watched the two of you as Nat pumped her fingers into your pussy, and your tongues dancing with one another. She also hadn’t failed to realize the prominent bulge in Nat’s pants.

She kneeled down in front of Natasha, unbuckling her belt and tugging her pants down. Wanda’s hand rubbed Natasha through her boxers, causing her to groan into your mouth.

Wanda pulled her boxers down, her cock springing free from its restraints. Wanda admired the woman’s size, her hands pumped at Natasha cock a few times. Her tip leaked with pre-cum.

Wanda’s lips wrapped around the coach’s cock, sheathing her cock down her throat. The sight of Wanda sucking off your coach quickened the arrival of your orgasm. Nat removed her hands from your panties, making a show of her cleaning them off. Even having Wanda lick your arousal off them.

“C’mon baby, come help mommy suck your coach’s cock.” Wanda suggested, as she grabbed your hand leading you to kneel in front of Natasha. Your tongue ran down Natasha’s dick, as so did Wanda’s.

You both took turns sucking her off, but Natasha was most fond of the way Wanda pumped the base of her cock and sucked her balls, while you sucked the tip of her cock.

With one final squeeze at the base of her cock, Natasha’s cum spurted into your mouth, you taking everything she gave. “Open your mouth, let me see her cum in your mouth.” Wanda demanded, so you stuck your tongue out. “Spit it into my mouth.”

You complied, trying your best to spit Nat’s cum into her mouth. Once you did, Wanda’s lips latched to yours. Your lips moved hungry against each other, cum dripping down both of your mouths.

Natasha pulled you to your feet, pulling off your pants and panties then, onto her lap. Giving you a searing kiss on the lips. Wanda took hold of Natasha’s cock, guiding it to your pussy. As you sunk down on Natasha, you whined at her size.

She began to bounce you on her cock, while Wanda took your hand and guided you to her pussy. Natasha lips suckled at your nipples, her fingers dug into your hips. You tried your best to finger Wanda as well as possible, but Nat’s erratic pace made all thoughts in your head disappear.

“M’ gonna breed this little pussy.” Natasha husked against your chest, throwing all abilities to think out the door. “Here, come eat mommy out while Natasha fucks you.” Wanda spoke up, aching for her own release.

Natasha helped you lay down, spreading her legs and shoving her cock back into you. Wanda straddled your face, her pussy hovered over your mouth. Your tongue flattened out past your lips, and Wanda began using your tongue to get off.

Wanda and Natasha shared a kiss as they both used you to get them own orgasms. Wanda furiously rode your face, while Natasha’s pace became unsteady. Her cock twitched, then her cum spilt from her cock. Yours and Wanda’s orgasms following quickly behind.

You lapped at Wanda’s pussy, drinking up all of her arousal. Nat pulled her cock out of you, your hole clenching around nothing. You whine at the empty feeling. “Hush baby, you gotta get out of here quickly. The game is about to start.” Natasha said.

Wanda quickly hopped of your face, then helped you collect your clothing and redress. She pressed a quick kiss on your lips. “You do good out there and I’ll reward you later on. Okay?” She whispered in your ear and you nodded, then she sent you on your way.

“What did you say to her?” Natasha asked as her eyebrow cocked. “Don’t worry about it coach, you better get out there too.” Wanda teased, and they both slipped back into their clothes.

Your team winded up winning the game, and Wanda kept her promise. Natasha also followed along.

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hello-eden · 2 months

Text

In Plan sight 3

p1 p2

Tim has no idea why Jason texted him.

Jason took the rest of the week off after he texted him so it can't be anything good. Tim landed on the fire escape and pulled himself through the window. Jason was sitting on the couch on the side farthest from the window. he was reading but when he noticed Tim he put the book down beside him.

“ What do you need Jason? I really just want to go to bed.” Tim was tired; he just wanted to take a long hot shower and slip into one of his oversized hoodies.

“ Are you actually wanting to go to bed or are you going to try for 10 minutes and then go back to the casework?” Jason said like he knew the answer already.

“no need to call me out.” Tim whined

“ You need to sit down.”

Jason motioned to the couch beside him.

“I'm not going to fall over on my feet.” Tim replied as he took off his mask and utility belt.

“ yeah well what I'm about to tell you I think you need to sit down.” Jason patted the seat beside him to get his point across.

“Did someone die?”

“ No one died, actually quite the opposite.”

“What does that mean?” Tim reluctantly sat down and waved his hand as if to motion to get this over with.

“ So two days ago I woke up with a kid in my safe house and didn't really think anything of it until later when she came out to me asking me to save for Mom.”

“ I do not like where this is going. Is the mom okay?”

“I have no idea. I'm hoping you have a lead for me.” Tim thought that was weird as Jason hates when people try and help with his case.

“ Are you asking for my help? “

“no but I'll get to that. I look up the birth certificate and it goes to a woman that doesn't exist so obviously this is going to be hard.”

“still not getting what you need me here for if you don't want me to join the case.” If Jason needed help looking for someone he usually goes to Barbara and Tim knows she isn't busy.

“you're probably going to want to join the case but for now,”Jason throws his hands up to point at Tim and makes it zipping motion in front of his lips ”shut up.”

“ okay okay”

“As I was saying I couldn't really find anything so I obviously do a DNA test to guess who's DNA pops up.”

“ Is it someone I know?” Tim tries to think of any one that can cause this reaction.

“yeah you.”

“What.”

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dc x dp crossover #batfam #batfamily #dcxdp #dead tired

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redflagshipwriter · 2 months

Text

Mama Bat 9: Dinner Out

masterpost

After her promise, the bats were a whirlwind of activity. He didn’t know where Uncle D or Alfred went, but Cass and Bruce gently bustled him across the house to plan his ecto dinner like it was an attack on an enemy base.

“I think it was around here,” Danny said uncertainly over the map in Bruce’s study. “I don’t know the names of any of these places. But there was this abandoned-looking theme park that had a lot of what I need.”

He didn’t have to be the world’s smartest ghost to recognize that there was a lot of tension in the air after he said that. That tracked. There were not many pleasant ways for a place in the human realm to accumulate a glut of deathly energy.

“That makes sense,” Bruce said. “Cass, honey, do you think we should ask Dick and Jason?” He folded the map back up along the same lines as before without even looking. Danny wondered at why he had that muscle memory. Did he fold everything in the same pattern?

“Big visible muscle,” Cass agreed. Her phone appeared out of nearly nowhere. “Danny.”

He stood up even straighter.

“Is Amity dangerous?” She pinned him in a look, her soft brown eyes arresting. “Dangerous to Jasmine Fenton?”

“Jazz,” he corrected automatically. Cass nodded. He rolled his ankles around, stimming below their line of sight. “Uh.” Danny faltered. “Um.” He bit his lower lip and tried to feel less like there was a painful hand around his heart.

He hadn’t thought so. But he would never have thought that he and Vlad were in serious danger, either. Now that the GIW and Mom and Dad knew… They would know who to ask for more information.

His parents would never push his friends or Jazz too hard. But the idea of the GIW trying to intimidate his friends and family was almost too upsetting to consider.

“Batdad extracts them?” Cass cocked her head at him to make it even more of a question. It was up to him. Was it a good idea?

Danny licked his lips. His mouth was so dry. He struggled for words. “Maybe.” One shaky inhalation. “If, um.” It sounded like someone else’s voice. It couldn’t be him saying that right now. “If it wouldn’t be too obtrusive… I don’t want to extract them and then, like, they can’t go back if they wanna.”

“We can handle that.” Bruce made eye contact to promise. He looked, Danny thought, like a more responsible, boring version of Jack Fenton. His eyes burned.

“That would be, uh. Cool.” Danny managed to get that out and avert his eyes, but he felt like everyone could see that he was about to cry.

Whatever. He leaned to the left before he consciously knew that Cass was lifting an arm to put over his shoulder. It slotted in place like they’d done it a billion times. Danny tilted his head towards the nails she gently scratched through his hair.

“Batdad, Damibat, Timbird, Stephanie,” Cass listed easily. “Amity.” She jostled Danny a little. “And we get dinner. You only need me. I’m the best. But we bring boys too, Dickbird and Jason.” She blew a raspberry.

Bruce looked exhausted and fond. “She is the best,” he agreed. Danny watched their interplay like it was a pingpong match. “I think you ought to go tonight to get something to eat. Would you recommend that we contact Jazz and your friends in the daytime, or should we leave as soon as possible?”

…They all had school in the day. Even Jazz was still in high school. Danny eyed Bruce doubtfully. He did know about school, right? “Night is probably better.”

“I’ll make a few calls.” Bruce sat back and seemed to flip a switch into planning mode.

“Text!” Cass said, disagreeing strongly. She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t too mean. “Grandfather Bat.”

“Oh!” Danny startled. “Um, I should contact Sam and Tucker. So that they know to expect you.”

Bruce balked. “We don't normally contact civilians about ongoing investigations…” He looked constipated about it.

Danny crossed his arms. He wanted to think it was stubbornness more than self comfort. “You're not going to like, creep up on my friends. If they want to go, they need some time to get ready.”

“Preparing could give away the plan to observers.”

“Is Amity Park Batman's domicile?” Cass asked archly. “Batdad.” She put both her hands on his desk and leaned forward to give her father an unimpressed look. “Mayor of Amity Park?”

Bruce snorted and then covered his mouth guiltily. “Point taken.” He cleared his throat, trying to retain some dignity. “Danny, do you need help to contact your friends?”

He shrugged. “Just a computer.” Danny fiddled with the strings on his hoodie. Tucker's hoodie. “I know you gave me a phone, but we thought -”

“That communications might be intercepted,” Bruce said, nodding as if that kind of paranoia was commonplace. “It's the first thing I would do if I expected a person of interest to contact a friend. What's your workaround?”

Danny bit his lip. It sounded stupid when he said it aloud.

Ten minutes later, Damian joined Cass in her perch on the back of the sofa and watched with morbid curiosity as Danny joined Doomed chatroom after chatroom, scanning for Sam's username. “She’ll leave it running whenever she's home in case I ping her,” Danny defended weakly. He left another chatroom.

Damian hummed, two pitches that came off incredibly doubtful. He had a gift for that.

“No, really, this- yes!” Danny pumped a fist and sent a HEY ITS YA BOI message.

It took seconds for Sam to get to it and add his temporary account as a friend. She sent a DM before he could and then ignored his response to start a voice chat.

Once he'd confirmed to her satisfaction that he was himself and that he hadn't gotten any deader in Gotham, he passed on the information that the friggin Batman was going to stop by Amity and wanted to check in. “But don’t worry, he’s kinda cool,” Danny added. “I gotta go. I am starving.”

Sam said all the rude words that she knew in quick succession. Damian looked sort of impressed. “Fine,” she said, obviously annoyed about it. “I’ll meet with Batman, but only because I hate the GIW more.”

“You hate Batman?” Damian asked. It was hard to tell from his tone if he had any feelings about that.

“That’s Damian,” Danny introduced. “He’s cool.”

“Hey,” Sam said shortly. “Yeah, he’s basically a cop. You have a problem with that?” Her voice went a little too aggressive.

“Just so you know, Damian is a child,” Danny said warily.

Sam scoffed. “You said he’s cool. I respect him enough to fight him if he’s wrong.”

“Batman may be improved by your feedback,” Damian said idly, as if he wasn’t making trouble for his father on purpose. “You should be certain to give it to him as soon as you see him. Do you have time to prepare a presentation?”

Danny sniggered into his hand.

“I can reuse the posterboard from Current Events class, yeah.” Sam mused. “Good idea. Alright, thanks for the heads up. It’s really good to hear from you. We were starting to get worried here. You missed a check in, you know.” She was trying to sound tough, but there was a hint of strain.

Danny flushed. “Yeah, I had logistical difficulties,” he said, which sounded less pathetic than “I got robbed while I was sleeping outside and had no money to use to access a computer.”

He ignored the thoughtful look he knew he was getting from Cass and signed off. He avoided making eye contact with anyone as he stretched, hands over his head. Then Danny put his hands on his hips and kind of stretched by rotating his back around. “Well, that’s done. Have fun with Sam, Uncle D.”

Damian made a hum in the back of his throat, eyes lost in thought. “I think I will.” Then he stalked away without a proper goodbye. Just a big housecat, that kid.

“Do you think Jason and Dick will be here soon?” Don’t ask, don’t ask, Danny silently hoped.

Cass looked at him for a long moment, silently weighing options and odds behind her dark eyes. Then she nodded. She turned on her heel and left, obviously expecting him to follow.

Danny jogged to keep up. How did she move so fast without running? She had short legs, too. He was still busy pondering when they rounded a hallway corner and heard male voices from the entryway.

“Wait.” Cass shoved him the last step with a gentle palm press to the shoulder and then flitted back down the hallway.

“Hey, buddy,” Dick said.

Danny managed a nod in return. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and tried not to look like he was hiding.

Jason all but oozed reassurance at him, without ever looking at him. As far as the eye could tell, the blonde was barely aware that Danny was present. But under the surface of his skin, his masses of ectoplasm were roiling with a sort of proprietary indulgence.

It was a kindness, probably, that the two men continued their conversation as if they were still alone. Danny didn’t really pay attention, thoughts consumed with a mixture of nerves about his worlds colliding and sobbing relief that he might get really, genuinely full for the first time since he had to run away from Amity Park. He edged a little closer to Jason without thinking about it consciously.

Cass arrived silently. Danny looked up as she entered the room only because he could sense her steady presence. “Time to go,” he said.

Jason startled with a very small jump. His expression instantly changed to exhausted resignation.

“Haha,” Cass said, pointing at him.

“Poor scared little guy,” Dick cooed. “You can’t sneak up on him like that.”

“Too scary,” Cass said, nowhere near as convincing as Dick at empathy.

Jason scowled. “Shut up,” he complained. He zipped up his jacket and yanked the door open. The sound of early crickets immediately cut into the house along with a fresh, cool breeze. “You both suck.”

Danny felt a faint smile pull at his face. He ducked his head and fell in, following at Jason’s heels. He didn’t look back to see who shut the door.

Dick drove them all. They parked a few blocks away and made it across the barren, creepy fairgrounds in utter silence. Danny followed his instincts and the source that he’d sensed from kilometers away in the city center but had been too worn down to even try to trek to without at least feeding his human body.

“So, what now?” Dick turned a cautious circle. “I didn’t exactly expect to see a physical object for you to eat, but I did sort of expect something.”

Danny made a face. “If I had the right tech I could filter and extract it out of the air, condense it into a really dense, liquid form. But, uh.” He turned a little to the side to avoid eye contact and hunched into his hoodie. “I sort of need to just hang out and…filter feed.” He grimaced. He sounded like a dumb fish.

“Inefficient,” Cass observed.

He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m really drained, so I need to be around a high concentration to get a jumpstart. If I needed less, I could probably just…” Danny made a circle gesture and sort of pointed at Jason. “Hang around him, I guess.”

Cass hummed in the back of her throat. “Perimeter.” Then she ran directly at a wall and hefted herself up onto the roof of the derelict funhouse. She was out of sight in seconds, which was impressive athleticism. Danny watched her go with raised eyebrows.

Dick huffed and shuffled even closer to Jason, clearly wary of Cass. “You can’t be the favorite uncle,” he lamented. “That should be me.” Danny choked down a laugh and pretended to be very busy filter feeding.

“You’re just crabby because you aren’t full of delicious ghost juice,” Jason muttered into Dick’s ear at a volume that he clearly thought Danny wouldn’t hear. The banter didn’t stop him from making periodic glances around the area. He caught an elbow to the gut from Dick for the comment and the inattention. Danny took a step further away from jabbing range.

“We aren’t here to hear you brag about how juicy you are,” Dick said out of the side of his mouth.

EW. But Danny felt smug satisfaction in Jason’s aura at that answer, so apparently it wasn’t as nasty sounding to him as it was to Danny. He made a blegh face, scraping his tongue against his teeth.

‘Maybe I should tell them at some point that I have better than human hearing.’ He pointedly wandered a few steps further away and pretended to be occupied with sniffing out the highest concentration of ectoplasm.

Jason grinned unpleasantly. “No, I usually have that conversation with all of your exes- oof.” Jason bent over and tried to breathe through the hit to his diaphragm.

Danny did his best to ignore the commentary from the peanut gallery. He took deep breaths and tried to keep an eye on all the shadows.

Amusement Mile wasn’t saturated with high quality ectoplasm like Amity Park, but nothing ever should be. Danny licked his lips and tried to stay alert. There could be any number of distressed or territorial dead around a place like this. It was eerily still.

“This place is just plain creepy.” Danny hid a shudder. “What happened here?”

Jason huffed a laugh with absolutely no joy in it. “It’s more like what keeps happening here.�� Danny glanced over at just the right angle to realize that Jason had a gun in his pocket. Holy shit. A gun. His eyes went wide.

“But nothing should happen tonight,” Dick cut in. His eyes looked tight and tense in a way that his breezy tone didn’t hint at. “The person who likes to use this area as a staging ground is currently in lockup. We double checked before we came out here.”

All three of them tensed when Cass jumped back down off the same building she’d climbed earlier. “Suspicious,” she said flatly.

Dick and Jason instantly lost their facades of ease. Danny realized, a bit late, that this place was really fucking concerning even to the living. “What’s wrong?” Dick snapped out. His posture changed and somehow his shoulders looked broader. Alarmed, Danny glanced between the adults.

“Someone was here.” Cass held up a very familiar piece of tech. “Inside vent.”

Danny felt the blood drain out of his face. Cass zeroed in on the expression. “GIW,” he said. “Uh, that measures… that senses ghosts.” He licked his lips. “I think we should go.”

“Are you- are you going to be hungry?” Jason’s brow furrowed fiercely. “You think they might have an alert that you came out here?”

“We are more capable than we look.” Dick promised. And his serious voice was pretty reassuring, actually, all things considered. But Danny still felt like he was going to be sick.

Tires screeched. It was too late to get out of here.

#red mama bat #dp x dc #dc x dp

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starkeygirlposts · 3 months

Text

Boyfriend turned Step-Bro Rafe Cameron x Reader

-----

FULL FIC HERE

Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married.

This is a snippet of a fic I'm going to see if I want to continue writing. Please let me know if you'd like it to be continued.

I'm not diving too deep on details or character traits in this, as it's just a blurb/idea for a full fic.

Trigger warnings: stepcest, underage, drugs, pregnancy

----

The Rafe Cameron who became your boyfriend when you were sixteen years old was not the Rafe Cameron who people referred to your step-brother at eighteen.

The complete opposite, really.

Your parents separated when you were in your sophomore year of high school, your dad moving across the country to California when he met his mistress on a business trip while you and your mom kept a tidy home. The affair nearly killed your mom, and she learned to lean on none other than your boyfriends dad.

Ward was the perfect fill-in for your mom for a while. She was just having a good time, she'd told you. "He occupies my mind Y/N, does that make me such a bad mom?" Like you being upset with your mother being however which way involved with your boyfriends dad was so out-of-this-world believable. Truth was, yes it made her a bad mom. Not just because it put you and Rafe in an uncomfortable position, but because you were struggling yourself after having your family as you knew it blown apart.

But she wasn't just "having a good time." Or rather, maybe she was having too good a time. Because on a Thursday evening at the Cameron's dinner table that you all had gathered for, Ward held your moms hand and told you all that they were getting married.

That day, your world fell apart, and Rafe started to become someone you soon would not recognize. Rafe's hand slipped from your thigh, gone the tender loving warm fingertips, drawing lazy hearts on your skin.

You looked over at Rafe before doing or saying anything to anyone else, and his eyes were higher than yours, connecting with his father's in an expression you could only imagine was pure hatred. Because Rafe could never live up to his father in any sense, and now he was taking away the one thing that kept his feet planted to the earth. Of course he was. You flinched when Rafe's chair scraped like nails on the tile flooring, as he darted from the table outside to his truck, leaving you to pick up the pieces. How badly you'd wanted to chase after him. But when your eyes connected with Ward's, the decision made for you.

You didn't even need to ask.

"Unless you want to live with your father in California, you and Rafe will stop whatever it is you two have going on." Ward had told you.

You looked to your mom as if she'd help you - feel some semblance of remorse for you. You'd met Rafe first. Three years ago. You'd been the only reason your mother even met Ward. But why should you be so surprised that what she wanted was more important than your happiness?

From that day, Rafe started slowly slipping from you. A hollow shell of the boy you loved so deeply and painfully. He'd drink himself to sleep every Friday and Saturday night, breathe cocaine on the other nights, and wave you off when you tried to ask him to slow down.

"Y/N, you want me to stop? To make you happy? What do you do anymore that makes me happy?" You'd touch his cheek and guide his head down to make his eyes meet yours, and you'd stare into them - hoping for a shimmer of your boyfriend to snap back and remember.

He'd shrug away from you, his hand brushing you off and leave you watching his back as he'd resume slowly killing not only himself, but you too. But his coldness didn't stop him from sneaking into your room past midnight to have sex with you. Not that you wish he'd stop, because you so badly craved his touch, eager for it any way he'd offer it. Mean, rough, kind, tender; you'd take any of him just to feel connected.

So when you'd texted Rafe to meet you in your room after dinner on Thursday night nearly one year after your world truly blew apart, hoping you'd get to him before the white powder did, he locked the door behind him and the black in his eyes told you he'd already gotten his fix. But your small hand came up to his chest as he approached you, seated cross legged on your pink floral bed spread, clutching the stick in your other hand. You looked up at him and when you locked eyes, he understood, because he took your hand from his chest and squeezed it in his own before leaning down to touch his lips to yours.

"I miss you, baby. My beautiful girl."

His breath was hot against your mouth, his scent so familiar and home to you. You couldn't stop the tears from falling from your eyes, your hand loosening from his hand to hold onto his forearm that connected to the fingers clutching your jaw tenderly but firmly in place, kissing you like he loved you again.

How badly you missed him, too.

"Rafe, please..."

Your hand falls and his breaks from your jaw, and you take this moment to capture his hand with your fingers and place the stick into his palm. His eyes break away from yours to look down at what you've given him, and you watch with tears streaming down your face as his brows furrow, his feet shuffling to back up and you brace yourself.

He doesn't do what you expect him to do, though. He stares so deeply down into his palm that when his eyes do reconnect with yours, confusion in his own eyes, his head tilting just the slightest and you're trembling, waiting for the shoe to drop.

"This...this is a -- you're..." His eyes screw up shut and he shakes his head like he's imagining things and he's crazy. "A baby?" He finally asks, looking up at you again and you can only nod.

"My baby?" He asks again, and you nearly scoff, because really? Was he kidding? Who else was sneaking into your room after midnight, invading your body and your thoughts?

"Yes, Rafe, I'm pregnant with your baby." You tell him, standing and he's still shaking his head, eyes bunching up as if he's being told the craziest thing in the world - because really, he is. But you've sat with this for the entire day and while your reaction wasn't as confused, you too felt the familiar disbelief.

You watch his chest rise and fall, deep breaths in and out before you're in a whirlwind and he closes the distance between you and pulls you to him, tucking your head underneath his chin, the back of your skull rested protectively in his large palm. His lips are at your forehead when he tells you

"I'm going to take care of it. They're not keeping me from my kid."

----

AH, what do you think? My ask box is open for feedback. Please feel free to use it to ask for what you'd like to see from this fic!

#rafe cameron pregnant #Rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #drew starkey #drew Starkey x reader #stepbrother!rafe #angst #rafe cameron angst

388 notes · View notes

ist4rgirlo · 1 year

Note

all i can think about is conrad bringing home bimbo!reader. like everyone knows belly likes conrad but he sees her as a sister so belly’s being rude and asking snide backhand comments but she’s not realizing it and actually thanking and answering belly with a smile. so now everyone realizes she’s not the smartest person but susannah LOVES her! (and connie baby is looking so happy and proud 🥹)!!! i’ve been looking for one like this but i can’t find it and can’t stop thinking of it!!!!!

────────────── 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

warnings: FLUFF, belly being a b*tch, shit talking, physical touch (LMK IF IS MISSED ANYTHING)

requested by: anonymous

To be honest, no one expected Conrad to have a girlfriend like you. Everyone said that you were far from his type, you weren't dumb - you were just slow and doesn't know certain types of words or slangs. For Conrad, you were one of the most smartest person that he knew, well basically because he got to know you. You don't really show it but you have so much potential especially when it comes to fashion and make-up! a plus is that you are really good with art.

About his type, they always thought that it would be Belly and Conrad that would end up together, knowing that Belly is literally in love with him ever since they were kids, before you happened, they had a special bond - a bond that to the point where they were just inseparable, Belly thought that it was something so beautiful, It was her dream to be with Conrad.

Not until she knew that he had a girlfriend, and that he just treats him like a sister and nothing else.

───────────────────────────

Conrad's Pov

"Connie, you should bring that girlfriend of yours here sometimes!" Mom exclaimed, happily. Ever since I brought Y/N here, she was all mom asked from me, even her and Jeremiah instantly clicked. You can say that amongst the girls that I have been with, Y/N is surely my mom's favorite.

I smiled proudly, "I'll try, Mom. She's busy and I don't want to interfere with her personal life, but I'll ask. I'm sure she'll say yes especially if it's your request" I rubbed my mom's shoulder, she nodded.

She stood up and walked towards the kitchen, "Well tell me when she's coming so I can invite the Conklin's too, I'm sure her and Belly will get along really well." I just hummed and nodded. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Y/N asking if she can come here for dinner, she immediately responded saying yes. I smiled.

I saw my mom's figure come into the living room, I looked up - smiling at her, she tilted her head looking at me confused, "Well, it looks like you favorite girl is coming" I said giddily. My mom squealed, "Omg! I am so excited, I will cook her her favorite!" she said before going to the kitchen, to list down foods that she know's Y/N will like.

───────────────────────────

FEW DAYS LATER

Y/N's Pov

"Mom! We're here!" Conrad yelled, his hand rubbing your waist gently. You saw Susannah walked towards us, she went up to me and hugged me "Oh gosh! You're finally here, I missed you" she cooed, pulling away - placing her hands on your face gently. You smiled, looking at her "Oh Susannah, I missed you too! Here I got you your favorite" You said, handing her the dessert that she liked. She gasped, and grabbed it from you gently "Oh you didn't have to!" she said, pouting a little. You shook your head "It's okay! I wanted to" You smiled before looking up to Conrad who was already looking at you - smiling lovingly.

Jeremiah came into the view, walking towards you - pulling you in for a hug. "Hey, you!" he said, smiling. "Hi, Jere" I looked at him, smiling. "Looking good as always" he said, twirling me a little bit. It wasn't anything that was awkward between you and Jeremiah, even Conrad doesn't find it awkward. Ever since Conrad brought you here for the first time, you and Jeremiah just had that sister & brother bond.

You felt Conrad hand on your waist, "Baby, this is the Conklin's. This is Steven, Belly, and Laurel. You already know who they are since I did talk about them to you." Conrad said - smiling, turning you gently to face the Conklin's. You saw Laurel smile at you before walking towards you for a hug, "It is nice to finally meet you" she said, before pulling away. You saw Steven wave while Belly was just there, looking at you up and down, but you just chose to ignore it and just smiled at her.

After a while, you all went to the dining room to start eating. "Here you go, sweets. Eat lots yeah?" Conrad said, grabbing food for you - placing it on your plate, you heard Belly scoff "What? you got no hands? can't get your own food?" she mocked you, you looked at her confused. Steven nudged her with his elbow "Belly, stop it" he said, you looked around, all of them were looking at her, Susannah had a stern look on her face. Belly rolled her eyes, groaning "Calm down you guys, it was a joke!" she said, looking at you smiling, Susannah sighed "That wasn't a good joke, Belly" she said, reaching for you gently. Belly looked at her and said sorry. You just smiled back nodding, going back to eating your food.

You felt Conrad's hand on your thigh, you placed your hand on top of his - you felt his hands lock in with yours. You looked up and saw him give you a reassuring smile, you nodded and smile, telling him that you were okay. "So Y/N.. what is your major?" Laurel asked, you furrowed your brows, not familiar with the word until Conrad whispered to you "It’s what you do in school, baby" he said smiling, Belly chuckled - not believing what she just saw "Oh! Uhm I major in fashion design!" you exclaimed happily, smiling at Laurel. She nodded before smiling at you "Well It is obvious, just look at what you are wearing." Belly said, looking at you up and down, "Isabella." Laurel warned her, grabbing her arm gently

you smiled - thinking that it was a compliment. "Thank you!" you said, looking at Belly - she just looked at you like you were crazy which made you shrug you shoulders - looking at Conrad. He was looking at them, his brows furrowed. You felt his hand tighten around your thigh, you placed your hand above his - rubbing it gently, He looked at you - his gaze softened, he smiled.

After you guys were done with dinner, Conrad decided to walk you around the house. You guys were now at the back of the house, at the pool with your feet's dipped in it. Conrad reached for your hand, caressing it gently "Sorry for earlier, darling. I'm sorry for not defending you or saying anything to Belly" he said, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You turned to him, brow furrowed, shaking your head "Why are you sorry? nothing happened earlier, Connie. I am okay, whatever they said didn't hurt me okay? I'll try my best to get along with Belly." you said, smiling still unaware of Belly's action.

Conrad eyes softened "Oh my love, you are too kind. Sometimes it scares because then people will try to get advantage of you" he paused, caressing your face "but it's okay, i'll be here yeah? I'll defend you and I will stay right by your side, always so don't worry about getting along with her. You don't have to do that, baby. Just think about mom and everyone else, they absolutely love you." he said, before pulling you in for a kiss.

Conrad is just deeply in love with you, he doesn't care what other people think as long as you are there beside him. He was just high over heels, he absolutely adores you and treasure you, he wouldn't ask for more. He just felt like the luckiest guy to have someone like you.

───────────────────────────

I JUST LOVED WRITING THIS! it is honestly one of the cutest and wholesome oneshot i've ever written. Conrad is just so inlove with reader and I AM UP FOR IT, I want a love like this UGH. Thank you, anon for requesting this <3

#tsitp #tsitp conrad #tsitp fic #tsitp oneshot #tsitp imagine #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher angst #the summer i turned pretty #abtconrad fics #bimbo reader

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coco-loco-nut · 5 months

Text

In Sickness and In Health

Pairing: Charles Leclrec x Reader

Summary: Charles taking care of you when sick, great practice for married life, short blurb

requests open masterlist

—————

You tried to hide it, you really did, but it was game over when Charles saw your pale skin and tired eyes.

“Mon amour, go back to bed,” he says immediately. And there he was, overprotective Charles was back.

“Charles, I’m fine, promise,” you hide your sniffle, as you reach for the tea kettle. You aren’t fine, your whole body aches, your head hurts, and you are absolutely freezing. Charles shakes his head, giving you a few seconds before picking you up and carrying you back to bed.

“Stay put, I’ll make you your tea,” he instructs, putting the back of his hand on your forehead to check your temperature. With a hum he removed his hand, going back to the kitchen. Charles sends a text to his mom, asking her for the soup she always makes when he is sick, before making some toast and steeping the tea.

You are already asleep by the time he gets back to the bedroom, so he quickly grabs a damp washcloth from the bathroom to rest on your head after he wakes you up.

“Charles, you didn’t have to, I’m ok,” you are only trying to convince yourself. Charles usually loves your stubborn nature, but not when you are sick.

“Y/n, you have a fever, and I know you don’t feel well. Eat and drink your tea, it will help you feel better. I put some medicine there on the tray too,” He lays down beside you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, not wanting to fight it anymore.

“You know I love taking care of you,” he smiles, turning on your favorite movie, around halfway through you fall asleep. Charles replaces your now warm towel with a cool one.

Charles slips out of bed when you are in a deep sleep to clean up your breakfast and do his daily workout. Pascale shows up with soup not too long after.

"Thank you, Maman. I'll make sure she eats it," Charles reassures his mom, putting the container in the fridge.

"I'll go check her temp, you eat something. I know you didn't eat yet today," Pascale, who is arguably more overprotective than Charles, says, hurrying off to the bedroom.

"Drink some water, sweetheart," Charles walks in on his mom fussing over you, and you -to his surprise- seem to be enjoying it. "It's probably just the stomach flu, you'll be ok in a couple days," she is brushing back your hair, putting it in a braid.

"Charles, go heat up the soup," Pascale tells her son, who obliges.

"Thank you, Maman," you tell the older woman, who has helped you to feel at home in Monaco with your fiance.

"When you need help with Charles in a couple days because he is sick, just give me a call. Remember to eat and drink lots of fluids, and maybe some fresh air," she hums, patting your hand, and standing up.

"Thank you for the soup, Maman," Charles hugs his mom as she leaves.

You spend the rest of the day trying to keep food down and sleeping, and in a few days, you are back to normal thanks to Charles' care. Naturally, the day you wake up perfectly healthy, Charles is hugging the toilet bowl. You pull out your phone and dial a number you knew by heart.

"Hello, Maman. Do you still have that soup?"

"I'm on my way,"

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

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Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?

Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^

CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)

He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.

She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!”

König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.

He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.

Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.

Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.

He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.

Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.

“Are you done shopping…?”

Still no answer.

She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight.

It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.

His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?

“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand.

Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.

Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine.

She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her.

“Here. Give it to me.”

He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.

“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her.

She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.

“But... Then you’ll know where I live…”

“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.

“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”

“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”

She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease.

“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.

“Really? I’m a student, too.”

“Oh…? What are you studying?”

“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles.

He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl.

They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.

What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.

But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home.

She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.

She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.

“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”

“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”

She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”

He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.

“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there.

A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm.

Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?

“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile.

“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it.

“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.

“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”

“I… I… Sure.”

…

It’s a catastrophe.

His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...

He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.

The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…

“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”

“At this hour...?”

“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.

His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug.

Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?

“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”

“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’

She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…

His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears.

“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.

His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.

“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.

“I always do…”

He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.

There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.

On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.

The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.

The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.

“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.

“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”

The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.

His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed.

He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into.

She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.

She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable.

As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…

“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Remember what you wrote to me?”

“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”

“You told me that you love me.”

Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.

“...Oh God.”

“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”

She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.

“That’s it?”

“That’s mostly it, yes…”

He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…

His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants.

How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?

“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.

And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.

“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”

He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.

She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.

“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”

He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along…

“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”

“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”

Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth.

That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.

The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.

“The flower...”

The flower... Of course.

The flower from the rowan tree.

He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.

It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.

“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”

Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love.

“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”

It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping.

He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along.

She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.

“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.

“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.

“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”

He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care.

“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.

It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.

He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…

“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”

When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.

“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”

I always was….

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to.

He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks.

Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.

After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.

He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.

“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.

She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth.

When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.

“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.

The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.

“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”

“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.

“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm.

He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly.

“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves.

It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?

#könig x you #könig x reader #könig fluff #soft!könig #strangers to lovers

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past-the-comfortzone · 8 months

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Little things I'm catching on a rewatch:

From "who would wanna use their last days not fucking and fighting?"

"Last day of the afterlife and you're not off snorting a line off some hunk's abs?"

"Eh. You fucked one cannibal pool boy, you've fucked them all."

"I guess you have changed."

"Hey, Charlie said live tonight however we wanted, so pour me a fresh one! And lets get to living!"

(I am sobbing, you hear me? SOBBING)

(Also if you listen very closely to this scene while they talk at the bar you can hear a slowed down version of Loser, Baby in the background) (Once again: SOBBING)

"I can sense they're planning to kill me. But when?! How?!"

(Bro thats's so meta. They didn't need to do him dirty like that.)

"Don't worry mom, I'll make u proud."

"Only...seven...years. Off doing something important, I'm sure! But this kingdom was really something she cared about"

Welp. She's relaxing is heaven.

(Really love how Lucifer was built up to be this awful person, and Lilith a very loving person, but so far it seems to be the other way around.)

Funny things I missed the first time around:

THE TEXT.

"Bad. It makes us look bad!"

"Funny, I was going for hilarious."

Vaggie doesn't know what she's saying. Alastor was right. The text had me dying fr.

Never noticed Alastor had a little tux get-up for a few seconds I feel so robbed. Also in the commercial, he has his back to the camera and I just LOVE the possibilities as to WHY.

Did Vaggie force him to participate?

Did he still want to be included bc he's a little egotistical attention seeker?

Did he do it it bc he knew Vox would see it and it would fuck with him?

I need to know because like why are you even there little red demon man if you're gonna be barely out of frame and looking away??

Either vox had two mugs made except one with extra text OR (and my personal headcanon) he rushed to write "FUCK ALASTOR" on his mug just before Stayed Gone.

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cuntycheol · 1 year

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To You (C.SC)

Summary: Silence has always been a long-term paying guest between you and your husband. It took a cohabitation and more, to turn things around for Seungcheol and you, to figure out your true feelings.

Themes: romance, fluff, smutty, old money Seungcheol cuz he's your rich, cold but tender husband and you're his smart wifey, scenes of a firebreakout(please skip if you're triggered), some nice scenes of Singapore, and the first smut happens already (virgin!couple, slight inexperiences, orals, vanilla!) Cheol's very warm please I love him so much we'll save the real Cheol monstercock for the future ;3

WC: 7.7K

Playlist: Seventeen's (To You, All My Love, Falling for You SDSMSN, Darling), By My Side by Junny, Better Siopaolo , Alina Baraz (Floating, Alone with you, if you let me) I.M Flower-ed, Bibi Step

feel free to arrange them sowwy they're a lil mis arranged

A/N: helloo carats!! Had to make my first post about my man Cheol(thank u to my man) with the good ol' husband!au. It's evident im in my "oh husband cheol feelings" where we loving him real good! I've been impatient so I posted it a bit earlier than expected :D my comfort loving carats, this is based off All My Love and To You lyrics <3 I hope you enjoy this piece of writing as much as I enjoyed writing this! Happy Cheol Day you living legend coupranghae btches :")

Updated: mini sequel here <3

Life was divided into four distinct categories, after one whole month of your brand new status as Mrs. Choi, or Mr. Choi Seungcheol's wife:

Breakfasts with and for Seungcheol because he confessed he anticipates what you offer in the am

Touring the exquisite royalty of the mansion built by his great grandparents(specially the crimson paints)

Spending time with Seungcheol's Mom since she adores you more than her son!

Dinner n Slumber, where you sleep with a wall that separates you from your husband.

You don't exactly think it'd change; however you do expect it to. Everyday, you wake up in your own room, without the warmth of your husband because neither of you are exactly ready to sleep on the same bed together, and neither of you can sacrifice your comfort on the couch. Therefore a shared decision convinces your elders to grant your marriage the gift of time, a chance to understand one another before embracing a shared room and shared life. All credit to Seungcheol's mom, who chose you to be her son's perfect match, a decade ago. She envisioned you as the one to be her son's beacon of illumination in his life, and the way your personality coincides with his. Who knew you'd be repaid for your kindness of tagging along with your grandfather to meet his ailing friend, (Seungcheol's grandfather) with a coerced, arranged marriage to their youngest grandson. It was on you to navigate this relationship towards love and the more easier it sounds, the harder it gets.

Your husband's honesty shines through, expressing that his family holds the utmost importance in his heart, and he could never deny his mother's wishes. Although he initially declined the marriage proposal, the elders' persuasion led him to reluctantly agree. Absolute zero differences in both of your situations. Despite the arranged marriage, he promises to ensure your comfort and well-being. Polite knocks on your door in the morning signify his presence, seeking breakfast if you're up for the task, and he would either leave a note saying "ThankYou" or he would leave a fresh flower on the dining table as a small gesture of appreciation for your efforts in preparing breakfast, letting your pride swell with all this generosity, although you'd wish he says it with his own mouth, overcoming those barriers. Considerate compliments follow whether you're dressed in your best, try some new hairstyles, or ofcourse, after enjoying your delightful meals, was one thing that made you hopeful about this relationship.

It's evident he lacks communication, since he only speaks to you at mornings and occasionally on texts, whenever he's late. He possesses no punctuality but you're quick to realize he has a pattern in timings of when he wakes up, when he returns, when he sleeps. Throughout the day, you don't exactly see him. At nights you barely sit with him. He's either in his room or on his laptop. Nothing, among you two, seems like you're in a bond with the youngest heir of this luxurious business.

"Don't forget, the dinner's scheduled tonight" you chime, while he was leaving. He nods and drives his way out for another busy day.

Marrying a business tycoon of "old money" and serving him great breakfasts, were the last thing you expected in your simple life, where you were focused on academic and personal glowups, and rarely had any serious past relationships, or have slept with anyone.

You just believed better things await for you, and if those better things were in the shape of a young handsome husband, who were you to complain.

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"So! Have you decided a honeymoon destination?" Seungcheol's sister-in-law questions, at a calm family dinner. Seungcheol takes a sip from the drink, "I'm positively considering Greece or Bali, or maybe Fiji. We haven't played rock papers scissors yet to choose one destination" earning a small chuckle from everyone, Seungcheol continues to feast on the delicious dinner you had prepared. A variety of topics continue to be discussed and that was the only response Seungcheol ever said throughout dinner.

While the family members took their departure, after another hour of dessert sessions, you thought about his remark, if there's any depth to it. The honeymoon idea and what he has said so far, made you a bit ecstatic.

Seungcheol's seated on the couch, of the lounge upstairs, sipping his usual coffee. you lean towards the railings of the top floor, where yours and Seungcheol's bedrooms neighbored. He looks at you, with tender eyes, yet a cold expression. "So, about the whole honeymoon thing, are you-"

"Oh "don't worry about it," Seungcheol's dismissively remarks, taking another sip of his coffee. "Family dinners are meant for prying into things we wouldn't discuss on a typical morning," he explains. "And Honestly, I don't see the need for a honeymoon." Your heart sinks at his response, disappointment clouding your expression. "But I thought we could at least look at brochures together? Atleast discuss this thoroughly" you respond, trying to mask your disappointment with a glimmer of hope that he might consider it.

Seungcheol lets out a weary sigh, his tone becoming more serious. "You don't have to give in to everything my family demands. They can be nosy, but they'll eventually drop the topic after a few days." He glances down at his laptop, signaling that the matter is closed.

You can't help but feel a pang of hurt as Seungcheol's words crush your hopeful expectations. The thought of a romantic getaway had brought some solace, but now it seems like a distant dream.

"But Seungcheol," you protest softly, trying to keep your emotions without losing your temper, "it's just that a honeymoon could be a chance for us to spend some quality time together, away from only meeting on breakfasts, away from the hustle of daily life, away from being silent everyday, and both of us make an effort, to get to know each other better" He glances up from his laptop, his expression stoic, but you can sense a hint of frustration in his eyes. "I understand your perspective," he replies calmly, "but I'm not sure a honeymoon is the right way to achieve that. We can spend time together here, without the pressure of a fancy trip. We're not close enough nor we're a match to be doing this in the first place"

at this moment, you find yourself getting defensive...

"It's not about a fancy trip, Seungcheol. It's about creating memories, experiencing new things together, and building a connection outside of this huge mansion... where we live in distant bedrooms" you gesture around you, emphasizing the splendor of the place that seems to distance you both from the real world.

His eyes widen momentarily at your words, and you see a flash of emotion that he quickly hides. "It's not that," he retorts yet defensively, "I just think this honeymoon is an unnecessary pressure, and we should be honest about our feelings and not pretend."

You take a step back, hurt and anger welling up inside you. "So, all this time, we were just a pretense? You're quite audacious to say we're incompatible, considering the amount of time you spend with me. Count the days we ever went out? That's right. Zero" you scoff, "you know what, let's just forget this. Forget I ever asked you anything. Thankyou, for lightening my evening, Good Night" Before he could utter a response or rephrase everything, you stomp your way into your bedroom, hiding your face in your palms, feeling a bit guilty of losing your cool already when it hadn't been a while.

Seungcheol stood there, a mix of regret and realization washing over him. He knew he had made a mistake, once again, with his poorly chosen words to convey his thoughts. The truth was, he had never really learned how to express himself properly; heck he couldn't even say a proper "you're so pretty, I think I have started to find some meaning into this relationship?" to the woman he's been living with, in the same house. Unfortunately words often tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought, and he rarely considered how they might sound or how they could impact the other person. As a result, he found himself remaining silent at critical moments, fearing that his words might only cause more harm than good.

The argument with you had brought this flaw to the forefront of his mind. He recognized that his lack of effective communication had hurt you, leaving you disappointed and disheartened. He raises his fist to knock at your door, wishing he could take back his words and find a way to bridge the growing distance between the two of you, yet again, he retreats.

The same gesture was for you standing in front of your door, trying to atleast add a subtle apology, but an instant realization made you stomp your foot dramatically and jump into the warm bed.

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The next day, you refuse to make any breakfast, or contribute to the daily household activities like you usually do. You sulk in your room, either pacing back and forth, ordering your meal,coffee and everything upstairs.

It angered you how much you like Seungcheol. How deep of an infatuation you've developed towards him, in such a short time, finding glimpses of someone beneath the surface that you want to know better. Yet, the argument hangs heavy in the air, making you doubt whether your budding emotions stand a chance. You journal everything; how much of an asshole he is to not communicate properly, how many layers are there to him, and the only time you two talk, is for an arguement? Everything frustrated you. You hear Seungcheol in the distant, and as much as you were cross with him, you want to look at him, and admire his presence. Although its the first ever arguement you two share, the typical wife in you, expects flowers and apologies first from your husband.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, would often glance upstairs, or at your door. He would expect to see your charming face, he silently admires. Only to slump his shoulders and leave for work everyday.

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Two days pass by, and midnights strike, as you sit alone in your room, the argument with Seungcheol still fresh in your mind, you try to calm your emotions, occassionally collecting your thoughts in process of reading. Lost in your contemplation, you fail to notice the faint smell of burning wires in the air. The faulty switch connected to the lamp had been giving you trouble for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention to it, thinking it was a minor inconvenience, and indeed the most minor issues ignite major disasters.

Suddenly, a small spark ignites near the switch, and within seconds, the flames start to spread rapidly. Second situation of the night escalating this quick. Panic sets in as you realize the danger you're in.

Your heart races as you rush to the door, only to find that it's jammed, likely due to the fire's heat warping the frame. Fear grips you, knowing you're trapped. With no time to waste, you quickly grab your phone and dial the emergency number. Your voice trembles as you explain the situation and your exact location in the house. You yell out Seungcheol's name, as loud as possible, but unable to do so with the smoke rising.

Soon it starts to fill the room, making it hard to breathe. You look around for something to cover your mouth and nose, finding a nearby cloth to protect yourself as you wait for help to arrive. With all your remaining strength, you fan the rising smoke outside the door, to trigger the smoke alarms.

Seungcheol, who was now downstairs fetching a glass of wine trying to prompt an apology for the day he gathers his courage to, smells the smoke and hears the faint crackling of flames; soon he's shaken by the fire alarms sensing smoke. Panic overtakes him as he realizes this leads to your room. As he rushes upstairs, he hears faint bangings from your room, which stops. He calls out your name, but there's no response. Fear for your safety drives him to take action.

Seungcheol approaches the door, with all his force, he breaks it open. only to find the room engulfed in flames. Your figure is barely visible through the dense smoke. He rushes towards your feeble helpless frame, ignoring the scorching heat and billowing smoke. He finds you near window, trying to escape the inferno. With tears in his eyes, he wraps you in his arms and guides you towards the window, with the flames slowly engulfing the entrance door of your room.

In a span of a few minutes, sirens grows louder, and moments later, paramedics and fire brigades arrive, rushing to extinguish the flames and rescue both of you. They break through the main gates, helping you and Seungcheol escape to safety.

"Please check on her! She was unconcious and barely breathing I'm -I Plea-" Seungcheol fails to form a proper sentence.

"Please calm down sir, we're checking on her, and we'll assisst you. You are...?"

"Her husband! Please hurry and check on her god damnit!!" He yells in frustration hoping you're safe.

Soon, you were able to breathe on your own, and slowly you flutter your eyes open, chest heaving from the sudden attack of the horrific accident. Before it could escalate any further, you were given appropriate medications to trigger your drowsiness.

In the aftermath tranquility of this burning situation, Seungcheol stand outside, watching as firefighters work tirelessly to put out the remaining flames. Grateful to have survived the terrifying ordeal, he holds onto your numb hands, finaly letting his tears slip his eyes. He was so grateful to stop a major tragedy, and you're safe, with him.

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The morning sunlight gently seeps through the curtains as you feel it, only to be met with haunting flashbacks of the previous night's terrifying fire, your hopeless voice calling your husband's name, beneath your vision. You shot your eyes open and sit up, heart pounding in your chest as the vivid memories replay in your mind, leaving you trembling with fear. Tears stream down your cheeks as the trauma overwhelms you, and you find it hard to catch your breath.

Seungcheol's immediately awaken by your distress, pulling you into his arms. " I'm here y/n calm down shush..." he whispers tenderly, stroking your head, trying to comfort your trembling body as best as he can. He embraces you tightly in his arms, allowing you to cry and release the floodgates of emotions open from the harrowing experience.

He listens to your trembling sobs, his heartbeats a steady rhythm against your ear, and he continues to stroke your arms and back, comforting you through the turmoil. As you find consolation in his warmth, your clenched fists loosen their grip on the fabric of his shirt, his touch brings a sense of safety and reassurance that you desperately need in this moment. You look at him through your red eyes, as he smiles at you endearingly.

"Seungcheol- I...I'm so sorry" you sniff, gripping his hand, "I never knew that faulty switch would bring this huge mess upon us. You must be the one affected the most. I'm so sorry you had to go through this because of me. I should've let you known" you sob.

He gently wipes your tears, resting your head back on his shoulders "as long as you're safe, I'm at peace. It is my fault that I'm so...uh..quite unapproachable? But I went through hell when I saw you. I was sick worried. I'm sorry I should've protected you better. I should've run a new repair scheme as soon as you moved in. It was my insensitivity to let the most minor things slide" he slowly lies down, with you close to him. He smelled nothing like how the entire house did. He smelled sweet and strong. Everything indeed happens for a reason, as you sense how you're into the man, who rarely touches you, holding you dear.

Throughout the day, your husband Seungcheol stayed by your side, enveloping you in comforting embraces. He ordered breakfast to be delivered to his room, encouraging you to take small steps towards regaining your strength and energy to get on your feet. He offered the support you needed to gather the courage to move on your own and freshen up with a soothing shower.

While you were in the shower, he quietly left the room, allowing you some privacy to release the pent-up emotions that had been bottled up inside you. As the water washed away your tears, the conversations from two nights ago still loomed heavily, unresolved between you both. Yet, amidst the silence and uncertainty, there were his tender gazes - soft and caring. They were like ice on a sunburn, cooling your worries and offering a glimpse of hope. Though words may not have been spoken, his presence spoke volumes, showing that he was there for you in this trying time. You peer outside the window, to see the iron gates glistening with the fog, pitch black sky and the time's almost 11.

Once again, your husband returns into his room, after confirming you've changed, and he smiles at you, approaching with a plate of fruits and berries of all kinds. He was unsure of what your favorite fruit was. He felt unfortunate, of how unaware he is of your preferences. He hands you a bowl of strawberries, and elegantly peels an orange, handing the fruit to you.

"I'm sorry about the previous night" he begins. It catches you off-guard, yet you figure out you're the listener now. "I'm not the best with words, and I do realize I've hurt you-or even worse, left you disheartened. Yet again, I'm at a loss of what should I say, except that let's go on with the honeymoon plans. It may not be the best time right now, but whenever you're sure of doing this, tell me every detail about it; everything you desire for. We'll discuss it." he lifts his eyes towards you, with a subtle smile.

"I thought about everything, and upon contemplation, I realize I do want to give us a chance" you couldn't contain the bubbling happiness, and immediately hug him "thankyou so so so much Seungcheol. I'm glad you get my point" he was frozen at this sudden gesture, yet didn't fail to chuckle. Although he smiled discreetly knowing how wife-coded you are. "Let's begin as friends? Married friends? We'll know each other little by little" you suggest. "Sure, whatever you suggest" he smiles, shaking your hand.

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Amidst the haunting shadows of the accident's aftermath, and quite some insomnias later, time became your ally, gently coaxing you out of the horrors that had shaken your world. However you found an unexpected haven of love and affection with your husband. In your head, this friendship has escalated rapidly. A realization dawned upon you - the past may have shaped your paths, but the present had the power to rewrite destinies. Over time you had found solace in cohabitation with your husband, late-night conversations about life's intricacies, you delved into shared preferences, whispered dreams, cherished birthdays, and bittersweet memories of childhood. And everyday you discover new sides of him. Soon, you call him "husband" essentially finding pride and power in doing so. He was surprised at first, yet now he loves being called nicknames like "Cheol" or "Cheollie".

In Seungcheol, you found everything you admired in a man - daring, possessive, with a stunning face and a strong physique. He loved to be in shape, and encouraged you to stay fit, though romance wasn't his forte, he never faltered in taking care of necessities. While you weren't sure if you brightened his world, he became your epiphany. His struggles with eye contact and occasional mindless words unveiled the emotions he guarded, making you grateful for the accident that brought you together; without it, you might have given up on him. Now, you cherished the connection that had grown, exploring the depths of both your hearts.

Seungcheol realized soon that the collision of your worlds had a purpose, unveiling the potential for love and connection he hadn't dared to imagine. He slowly felt a major change in himself. Slowly, a transformation took place within him. Moments that were once filled with hesitation and distance, now became opportunities for seeking your attention, for his eyes to meet yours. He longed to be closer to you, finding comfort in watching you sleep peacefully at night and waking up to your smile each morning.

However, amidst this newfound affection, he couldn't decipher where his heart truly lay. Your mother's loving gestures and his sister-in-law's respectful fondness were easy to understand, but when it came to your feelings, he was left uncertain. Did you like him back? Would you ever be able to reciprocate his love? The questions lingered, leaving him vulnerable to the unknown, anxiously awaiting the day he could unravel the mysteries of your heart. It's an endless marathon in his mind.

It took him 4 days to gather his courage and ask you for coffee. You laugh and obviously agreed to accompany him to the city's famous coffee spot. Like the man he was, he memorizes your order and pulls into a drive thru.

Seungcheol drives to a spot he usually stops by, to ease his frustrations; Parks. Laughter of children, romantic couples sharing pda, and a bridge that separates cherry blossoms from the playground, you're immediately in love with this scenario. Both of you share some laughter, and enjoy your coffees and croissants, while the petals of the blossoms shed upon you. The look of love you two exchanged was long; to leave your coffees cold and croissants dry. Both of your worlds revolved around each other, only for Kkuma's barks to bring you back in reality, being greeted by Seungcheol's brother and his wife. Your delightful evening ends with a comfortable dinner and living your best chances of being Kkuma's mother, something your two month marriage with Seungcheol lacked.

Soon enough, you persuaded Seungcheol to shift houses permanently. Despite your old room being perfectly repaired, the trauma of sleeping alone had left a lasting impact. Bonus was Kkuma finally moving in with you and Seungcheol. Understanding your perspective, Seungcheol readily accepted to have you in his room in this house, and the new one seeking, welcoming the idea without hesitation.

Within a mere three days, you both found yourselves settling into your new furnished apartment, which, wasn't expansive, it rather held the essence of a cozy aesthetic. With only one guest room upstairs and a spacious bedroom, you had insisted on sharing the same space, declining any notions of personal separation. He made sure to double check every single thing, to disapprove any mishaps.

"Cheol, this is beautiful! I-I love it!! Thankyou so much, husband!" To him it's no new information, but his cheeks flushed shades of cherries. You were too busy exploring your new house, and he couldn't help but adore every inch of your ecstacy.

"Any time, wife" he replies after clearing his throat, and containing his ecstacy.

You poured your gratitudes to Seungcheol the entire day and actively joined hands with you, playfully engaging in household tasks, cherishing every moment as you transformed the apartment into your shared abode, a place that signified the start of your new world together. Nothing changed in terms of routine, however, you two communicate often,and now there were sparks of mischief from Seungcheol, indicating that silence was no more a welcoming guest. And now Kkuma being an addition, you enjoyed being indoors and outdoors with her. It wasn't often both of you enjoy going out often unless its something such as icecream dates or coffee, or some relaxing walks, because neither of you go anywhere out of your comfort zone; except for a business trip or grocery shopping, however the joy of turning down people who ask for your status, was thrilling. You felt a sense of superiority.

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The next evening he returns home a little earlier than expected, searching for an important flash drive in his drawer. It seemed you were in shower, considering how loud you were singing. He smiles, hearing your soft voice echoing in the room, and suddenly the door knob twisting open. Seungcheol quickly slides open the closet door and gets inside.

It was foolish of him to hide instead of leave, but he thought maybe his presence would freak you out. He slowly opens a little to take notes of the surrounding and was taken aback, seeing you in a towel, and your hair wrapped. He gulps, seeing your glistening body smell like lavender, spreading in the room.

Seeing you in this new light, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire mixed with love. He had never viewed you with such intense admiration before. Tempted to touch and hold you, he controlled his impulses, knowing it was too soon for his hands to explore your curves yet this is the most skin he's seen of you.

You lie down on the bed, laughing and smiling to everything that went in your beautiful mind. Soon you dial your best friend and start off a conversation. Seungcheol senses this was a grave mistake, because phonecalls are obviously long. He had no choice but to stay inside until you're distracted. He facepalms himself, and slowly leans towards the side. You put the phone on speaker while you do your post shower rituals, moisturizing yourself in view of the full length mirror.

"Is Seungcheol home right now? Or should I say your husband" your friend teases you

"Good lord, no he's not. Infact a business trip awaits his presence"

"Tch that's sad. No wonder why you're calling me and not him"

"My man's busy. Sometimes I just hope come early one day and catch me like this? My mind goes places whenever I get out of shower and think of him coming in without notice" you smile coyly "darling you're on my to-do list tonight" you chuckle. Seungcheol could only smirk, after hearing your fantasies.

"Honey you're too inexperienced for this" she retorts

"Inexperienced my foot, I miss my husband already.... and safe to say I actually love him" you sigh.

"Have you told him about your feelings? Have you told him you've never been laid and are deprived" Seungcheol closely listens to everything, occasionally holding his laughter.

"No" you pout again, falling on your back, unaware of seungcheol who was shamelessly hearing you, while admiring your raised chest, that was swollen out off the unknown feelings of you, from him.

"I want to. Everytime I look at him, I want to tell him 'oh Cheollie I love you' " you laugh with your friend, "I'm seriously in love with him and it scares me how quick and sudden it all was. And now its- he's giving me mixed signals. Sometimes he's distant, and sometimes he makes me the most lucky woman ever. I want to tell him I love him, I just don't know when or how" you continue

"Dont say anything. Just go on your honeymoon, and sit on his face, the 2nd hour. Afterall actions speak louder than words" both of you laugh heartily. Seungcheol breathes out a laugh yet onto it, knowing it's over if he's caught.

"Tell me about it" you sigh.

"Seriously! Talk with him and confess! Since when did you become such a big pussy"

"Honey I'm the one with the pussy"

"Goddamn, you- seriously- talk to him. What if he s involved in someone else the time you say the words"

You went silent, the thought just made you sit back up, nd think about it. Could he really have someone else?

"I...highly doubt that. My mother-in-law said he's never really had a serious relationship, since he was focused on training back then"

"Honey its not written on your face that you've never had a man, it aint written on his face that he may have a potential girlfriend before you. What you'll be doing then?" Your friend continues "I hope he's not doing this out of sympathy, considering that whole incident"

Again you felt numb all over, it would've killed you inside out if the signs of Seungcheol's empathy and love was all out of sympathy. However you shake your thoughts, and put a heavy heart on your words, "Then what I'm the one who married him, and I get to choose if I stay or take the other way"

Seungcheol gulped, knowing time is definitely ticking and if he still don't do anything, he'll surely regret.

"Atta girl!"

Suddenly Kkuma runs out from underneath your bed and into the bathroom, and you chase her. "Ahhhhh kkuma stop you frenzy lil- I'll call back later" you chase your daughter, and Seungcheol seeks this as a perfect opportunity to escape.

"Kkuma!!!! That's your dad's favorite shampooo aaa!" You exclaim. Seungcheol takes this opportunity to sprint out of the room, laughing a little at your banter. The smile plastered on his face was priceless. His chest heaved with happiness, ego swollen with pride, heart relieved and thrilled with all the revelations. If he knew anything as a businessman, it was to have a plan. He needs to be prepared for everything beforehand and time was a precious investment. And it was finally time he need to make his first move.

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"Are you interested in accompanying me to this business trip?" Seungcheol asks, out of the blue during breakfast.

"Well, I don't see exactly why wouldn't I" you raise your brows "thought I'd say no"

"Hey hey, it's not that! I just wondered if you'd be up for some adventure, that's all."

"Adventure, huh?" you reply, pretending to ponder dramatically. "Hmm, only if you promise to bring some fun into this 'business' trip."

He smirks, tapping his fingers on the table. "Deal! I'll make sure it's the most adventurous business trip you've ever been on" you're aware of your husband's antics, and it's evident he's brewing something.

You laugh, finding his playful demeanor contagious. "Alright then, you've got yourself a travel buddy. But you better keep your promise, Mr. Businessman."

Seungcheol winks, flashing you a charismatic smile. "Oh, don't you worry, Mrs. Businesswoman. It'll be an unforgettable journey" Kkuma barks in excitement

"Exactly Kkuma" he cheers.

You couldn't help but smile, at how domestic life has turned ever since the coast is clear between you two. The idea of being overseas with Seungcheol sparked a new imagination for you.

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Whoever said travelling is easy, it never is.

After hours of a tiring flight, you found yourself in Singapore, the astonishing city of tourism. The sights were indeed beautiful, with city skyscrapers and landscapes that mesmerized you. The fresh air was a welcome change, adding a touch of excitement to this trip. Your husband, with his penchant for luxury, had chosen a hotel room at a height, providing a stunning view of the city and the rivers below."It must be even more beautiful at night," you thought, taking in the scenery.

Seungcheol's voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, looking incredibly attractive in his white shirt.

"Like what you see?" he teased, clearly enjoying the attention he was receiving.

"Sure I do," you replied with a nervous smile, trying to contain your admiration for him.

"I'll shower first then! I'll be heading out soon, so please order lunch for me as well," he said, scrunching his nose playfully before disappearing into the bathroom.

Following his request, you ordered lunch and kept yourself busy taking pictures of the breathtaking views from your room. Lost in the beauty of the city, you were interrupted by the doorbell, and to your surprise, there stood Seungcheol, clad only in sweatpants, with the towel hanging around his shoulders. You tried your best to keep composure "Oop! Quite a timing, lunch is here" you tried to maintain eye contact but it was hard; both for your eyes to keep to his face, and for his nipples to remain soft in the chilly air of the A/C. It was thrilling and embarassing, considering you now know what he is inside that white shirt he always wears.

"Sure, Thanks. Heard my phone ring" he walks over to the side table for his phone "I'll be quick" he chuckles knowing the effect he had on you. You swore you felt tingles everywhere, and bury your face in your hands, hiding the flusters of your red face and feels. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol could see your flustered reactions through the reflection of the window; full enough to capture the city's highlights. He knew he has unlocked a new level.

"Sure this journey will be unforgettable"

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While Seungcheol's been busy attending meetings and chats with his clients, you took this opportunity to explore the city's famous landmarks, enjoying some street shows, and a visit to art galleries and ice cream parlors. The times he's available, he shines as usual; enjoying different flavors, mingling with the dancers, and spending like anything on ferris wheel rides, and to exquisite places you've either seen on searches, or never heard of it.

"So Mrs Businesswoman how are you enjoying your stay so far?" He inquires, leaning rowards the railings of the bridge.

"Amazing, you really know how to explore, Mr Dora" you smile. "How long is your business work though?"

"Why is it? Don't you like it here?" He frowns

"No no, it's that you must be tired commuting back and forth, just making sure you don't get sick"

"Don't worry, besides, weren't you the one to be enthusiastic about a honeymoon" he looks up at the starry sky. An instant realization came to you

"Ooh.... I-damn you sneaky lil I should've known why would you ask me to accompany you all of a sudden" you squint at him "I'm not complaining though. You have quite an elite taste" you smile

"Then lets go get dinner and we'll chill on some champagne later" the idea sounds wonderful already. Seungcheol holds your hand, and your heartbeat accelerated at this gesture

"You don't mind...this do you?" He asks, eyes glistening with innocence as if he doesn't tease you every morning.

"No, Honey" you smile. Despite Seungcheol's occasional flirty tactics, you realized that he had eyes only for you.

The next hour after a delicious dinner, you were in shower, and decided to make him suffer twice the time he does, so you come out in slippers, and a piece of towel barely covering your body, just enough to enhance your curves. Your husband who was pouring champagnes, turns around, to his absolute shock, he was foaming, eye-fucking you. You instantly knew you hit the bullseye.

"Forgot my toner here" you smile innocently, and unintentionally fulfilling your fantasies. Whatever was hard, was definitely not because of the temperature. Soon you return in just an oversized shirt and some shorts, that has been your usual night-fit. He hands you your glass, looking a bit horny. There was silence. Quite a sexually tempting one. Lights were dim, the view was spectacular.

It's when he realized he's had enough and pulls you on top of him, your lingerie-less body hitting his hard chest

"God..Seungcheol what is-"

"I'm I hav- Oh god I don't know how to say this" he contemplates, as you see his soft lips between his teeth

"What the hell you're the one to pull me on you" you roll your eyes

"Sorry I'm I-"

"Never mind" you hold his face and attach your lips with his. To be frank, you've had tolerated enough and it's time you do sit on his face.

The synchronization of your lips moving with his, was very perfect for a first time. You kept on kissing and kissing, exploring every inch of his mouth until he pushes you for a catch of breath. You flutter your eyes open and smile, slowly transcending to a laugh

"God you're so...menacing" he speaks "about time you finally do what you said to your frien-" he stops knowing he said a little too much. You look at him in shock "does that mean you-"

"Sorry" he nervously says. You squint your eyes at him again, very suspiciously "how much did you listen"

"Everything" he confessed "it was unintentional, you were busy on the call and I came for something then I forgot common sense. Sorry" he apologizes. You knew the cat had been out of the box, you were unable to notice it. You sigh, after a quick contemplation

"Well, it's no secret anymore. Here I'll say it fir-" he puts a finger on your lip, switching positions, where he is on top of you now. It earned a small squeak from you, yet you felt your core getting a bit wet by how attractive that was. His leg rested between yours.

"Let me" he stares in your soul. You gulped, kind of getting wet by how his built is hovering on you.

"Y/N, I'm foolishly, in fucking love with you" the sudden profanity made you grin a little harder, all while he strokes a loose strand off your face "honestly. I can't believe it took me this long to express my..sheer love for you, y/n. Back then, i would've died without you but now I...would die for you. I can't imagine a world without you, so if you please let me be yours forever?"

"I hated every inch of air I shared with you then, and how we were just bonded without sharing a hello" you smile, cupping his face "I never imagined I'd find every moment with you, so profound. Every minute with you was magical, and it only concludes how destined we are for each other"

"I love you Seungcheol"

"I love you too..."

With that, he took the "action speak louder than words" a little too serious. His lips wrestle for dominance with yours, and the thigh that was calm, started stirring up a storm between your legs, as he continuously grinds on you. You pull onto the hem of his shirt, and he immediately does, while his hands explore your body inside your shirt. He slowly makes his way from your lips to your neck. Everything felt so ecstatic; it was your new high. You clenched onto the soft pillows for dear life, when Seungcheol slides himself into your oversized shirt, his lips between the valley of your perky breasts, craving his attention. He admires every inch of your perfectly created body.

"Stop...teasing" you moan. He feigned ignorance, continuing to play with your sensations. He pulls you up by your back, and swiftly removes the shirt and throws it on the floor. "There's no stopping me tonight y/n," is the last thing he says before pinching your nipples, and making the best use of his mouth on them. He enjoys hearing the profanities escape your lips, and how your voice changes upon pleasure.

You push him by his shoulders and get down on him, sliding the waistband of his shorts down to his knees, his dick springing high on your face. You gaze at his length before mindlessly taking every inch in your hands. "You..you..do..nt hhhave to ddoo t-ohhh" he groans. "You don't tell me what to do...."

"Such a brat" he smirks, letting you rule his excitement. He felt his high, once you slowly took him in your mouth, taking in as much as you could without gagging (yet) it's a matter of time he shifts from a thread of "oh ffuckk" "you're doing it so good" to "I'm gonna cum" and it's when you stop. You hastily take your shorts off and slowly grind on him. Seungcheol was panting manic. He was a mess. The entire room reeked of lust and his musky scent overshadowing, with his sweat. It proved how much of an authority you held on him

"Slide all the way up to my face beautiful I don't bite"

That's all you needed for your dripping core to slide on his nose, to his mouth. His tongue did wonders. You were sure you wouldn't last long considering this is your first oral ever, and sure you didn't, his tongue toyed with your nerves, and used every "shits" "fucks" "oh cheol" as his drive to go deeper in your cunt. "I'll cum I'm cumming I-" you release on his lips, and like a man, he devours it all.

"Delicious"

"You...you sound like cand..candy crush for god's sake" you breathily chuckle, and he follows, slowly getting up, to position himself on you.

"Then allow me to...'smash' " he presses a tender kiss on your forehead, before entering your core. You squeezed his hand, asking him to be gentle and burying your face in his neck, fingers in his back. It felt so...weird the first few minutes, but as he slowly moves, the funky feeling, the pain, it all vanishes. It's all when you realize you're actually getting laid. The sounds you've never considered you'd make, were too loud, way too unholy. Seungcheol was holding your leg, and was going slow till you adjust to him. His low groans and breathy moans turned you on even further, where you move your head to face him and slap his arm

"Giv...give me e...every..thing, husband. Take me all the way up" you breathe out. It's when he increases his pace, once he received your green signal. The slow slaps, were now louder and faster. Your bed was also giving up on concealing it's squeaks. He holds you in his arms, and continues thrusting in you.

Nothing else in the world mattered but the pressure you felt in between your legs and your delicious heat wrapping around him, engulfing him in until he bottomed out. His head falling into the crock of your neck, whispering sweet nothings against it while he started to fuck you slowly.

“Y-You feel so good, so w-warm.” Seungcheol kissed you, feverishly, swallowing your moans. His soft lips whimpering against yours. “I want to be inside you forever.” His hips moving against yours slowly, making sure you could feel all of him inside you. His hands never leave from your back and pushed you against him, chests heaving against one another’s. You arched your back, gripping the blankets underneath you. "Oh Seungcheo...god....cheol..." you breathe. He continued tinting your neck with his masterwork, and swiftly positions you on all fours. The joy you felt by the way he dominated you, and messed with your fucked out state, was bringing you heaven. You go low, arms stretching towards the headboard, while he grabs them, locking them behind your back, and even going hard.

There was no stopping him, all while the whole city from your foggy windows witness you making love witb your husband.

"Look at yourself, love" he turns your head to the mirror on the right "look at us..mmm..." he moans in your ear his hand snaking in between your bodies searching for the little bud of pleasure. You scream in pure ecstscy.

He turns you around, so swiftly, with his thumb hovering over it, the suspense had you withering, begging for him to touch you the only way he knew how. You whimpered feeling the ghost of his touch, your fingers tweaking at your nipple, sending a rush of pleasure through your body. "C..ch..chheoll..., mmm, I-I need to cum.” You pressed your chest into his back, turning your head all the way up, watching as his face contorted into pure bliss, his thrusts getting sloppier, his connected thumb with your clit and rubbing slow figure eight, constrasting the speed of his thrusts. You gasped raising your hips rocking against his hips and hand, feeling the sweet coil start to build up "im..fucking serious oh....my..."

"Release all on me, love" he demands amidst moans "Cum with me. Savour every drop of it" and it's all you needed to finally finish on him. He groaned finding your free hand and interlocking your fingers with his. You clenched around him. He was pumping as well, and you felt all warmth being filled inside you. Every thing about this was so surreal, so new, so perfect. You breathe as if you had run a marathon; a marathon of lust. Seungcheol hugs you, and stays inside you, caressing your head, showering you with compliments that you were brave and did well for your first time. The sense of encouragement brought tears to your eyes as you bury your face in his chest. He caressed your back with tender touches, and slowly lays you on your back, plopping down next to you.

"You're officially all mine" he kisses your shoulder. You hold his hand tightly, "you're mine as well, babe"

For the first time, you felt real comfort, real love, and an unimaginable intimate experience with your husband. And a shower too.

Seungcheol's heart hadn’t stopped palpitating since. His stomach erupted into butterflies whenever he had held you close throughout the immoral escapades the two of you had engaged in all night. He never wanted to let you go and now as he looked down into your glittering eyes with the heat of the golden sun rays hitting your sensitive bodies.

"Wake up husband"

"I think I want to sleep all day tonight" he shuffles closer to you.

"Oh who knew it would hard to wake my husband up from his slumber"

"Blaming on your irresistable charm" he squeezes your butt under covers.

"Owh! I'll need my own room again if you do th.." his hands cup your clothed core

"Hmmm...you were saying?"

"You.." you fail to form sentences once he starts rubbing your core, slow dense circles.

"Hands to yoursel..f or I'll bite" you whisper

"Oh, my damsel in distress" his voice is contagiously attractive;waste no time as he goes down on you undercovers.

═════════════════════

"We're really leaving Singapore as lovers" he chimes, an ear-to-ear grin fixed on, enhancing his dimples.

"Yeah if it weren't you to have the same traits as you family, you nosy lil witch" you exhale, standing in front of the fountains, almost nearing the airport

"I'm always nosy about everything" he smirks

"Honesty is not always the best policy Mr Choi"

He pulls you dangerously close "You have no idea, Mrs Choi"

"You need a haircut"

"All I'll ever need is...you" he holds onto you like a sloth on a branch, as you two harmonize in a melodious laugh.

It is you, he wants to tell everything to. He'll express his love for you, while he holds your hands in his.

And if there's eternal love, Seungcheol is that person for you.

✿═✿═✿═✿═✿═✿c✿═✿═✿═✿═✿═✿

Thenkyoui for reading!! Stay bias wrecked by him <3

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sinnersweets · 7 months

Text

DogDay x Reader part 9

<-----part 8, part 10----->

When I woke up I could tell that DogDay had left. The bed smelled like him which made me miss him more. Having a broken ankle was not fun at all. I was given crutches but honestly who likes using those. Not me. And to make this worse; the doctor said I should heal up in four weeks. That’s right near Christmas time! He said as long as I keep my ankle elevated and follow his directions I should be all healed up in no time. Yay.

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

I was on my phone texting my mom when someone knocked on my door. “Who is it?” “Hoppy!” Hoppy? That’s new. “Come in!” She opened the door and right away I saw that she had a basket with plushies and candy. “Brought you something; DogDay had all of us put together this ‘get well’ basket.” She placed the basket on the nightstand next to me. “That’s sweet of you all, thank you.” I reached over, picked up the basket and started looking through it. “Sorry about your ankle; I wasn’t in the theater room when it happened, but DogDay told me what happened.” “Yeah, it’s so weird that the day Bobby asked to be my understudy, I get injured so that she could take my place. I bet you she somehow spoke to the universe to send a storm over and have the power go out.” I spoke while opening a piece of candy. “The power went out? That’s odd. All the lights were on everywhere else in Playcare.”

When she said that I almost choked on the candy that I had just put in my mouth. “What did you say?” Hoppy looked confused but she said what she had said just a second ago. “Yeah...the power didn’t go out.” I sat in silence and started thinking. The power didn’t go out; so that means someone cut the power in the room. But what about the trap door? It was closed the whole time and would’ve made a noise when it opened.... The thunder. It was really loud and someone must’ve been waiting for that to happen in order to open the door without anyone hearing it. This was planned.

I started to clench my fists in anger. “Y/N? You okay?” Hoppy sat down at the end of my bed. “This was all planned! Haha oh my gosh.... Bobby. She did this. She cut the lights, she opened the trap door, hell she even placed a spider on top of my head!” I started laughing historically. Bobby just looked at me with her eyes wide open. “Y’know what? I could totally see her doing something like that. She's not keen on someone trying to steal her 'man' from her. Especially since you and DogDay are getting close.” She clicked her tongue and moved her eyebrows up and down.

My face started to feel warm. “We’re just friends!” Hoppy then started to laugh and pound her fist on the bed. “Uh huh sure~ When you’re not here DogDay talks about you nonstop! It’s cute but can get tiring.” She laughed while saying that last part. “He talks about me? What does he say?!” “Nope; can’t say. I’m sworn to secrecy by my leader and friend.” I playfully rolled my eyes at her.

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

Hoppy and I chatted for a little bit longer before she had to go back to rehearsal. When she left, I was all alone for like five seconds and then my phone started ringing. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my mother. I took a deep breath in before answering her call. “Hi mom.” “Y/N M/N L/N what’s this I hear that you broke your ankle?!” “Oh thanks mom I’m doing fine thanks for asking.” I could hear my mom sigh through the phone. “Y/N I’m serious! All you texted your father was that you broke your ankle and that’s it! You didn’t even tell me your own mother!”

I was thankful that she couldn't see my face right now. I know my mother meant well but she was just so over barring. “I didn’t tell you because I knew how you would react and guess what? This is exactly how I pictured it.” “I’m not going to argue with you. Where are you right now?” “Um...work?” I had to pull the phone away from my face because my mothers voice got louder. “You’re at work! Young lady you shouldn’t be at work. You should be at home so someone can look after you.” “I live alone mom, and besides I have doctors here to look after me.” And DogDay. “Where do you work that has doctors on board?” “Playtime mom.”

I stopped listining to her because the door started to open and DogDay poked his head in. I waved at him to come in. “Hey mom-listen I’ll call you back one of the doctors just came in.” “Well then put me on the phone with them I want to have a word with them because-” Click. “Oh no we got disconnected.” I laughed and set my phone on the nightstand. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your call Angel.” DogDay walked over to me and pulled up a chair. “Oh no you weren’t interrupting at all.” We both chuckled. DogDay was resting his head on his paw as he looked at me. “I missed you Angel.” I smiled and said, “I missed you too. How was rehearsal?” DogDay sighed before saying, “Long. Especially now that BB is in it.” I thought about telling him that I’m most likely like this because of her, but I also didn’t know how he would take the news. They were all supposed to be friends.

“CatNap wanted me to tell you that he hopes you’ll recover soon. Oh, and that he hopes that he didn’t scare you when you fell.” I didn’t remember seeing him around me. “He was there?” “Mhm, he’s the one that put you to sleep. He’s not really a fan of seeing anyone cry.” As I put two and two together it made sense. “Oh, I totally forgot that he has the sleeping gas.” DogDay nodded.

“Where’s Damian at? I miss the little kiddo.” “He’s in the counselors office with Mrs. Stella I think.” Odd. I wondered what he was doing in there. “You look a little down Angel.” “Hm? Oh no I'm just bored.” “Hmm...Ah ha! I’ll be right back Angel.” Before I could ask where he was going, he zoomed out of the room. Double odd.

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

Half an hour went by and DogDay had yet to come back. I could feel myself starting to get sleepy when a knock jolted me up. “C-come in!” As the door opened, in stepped in DogDay; wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope, and a clip board. A huge grin appeared on my face.

“Good evening, Angel, I am doctor DogDay here to do a check up on you.” I chuckled at how silly and cute this was. DogDay walked over to me and placed his clip board down. “First things first I will be listening to your heart.” You’d expect him to use the stethoscope but no. He leaned down and pressed his ear against my chest. I froze and felt my face heat up. “Mhm heart rate is a little elevated.” “I wonder why haha....” DogDay moved away from my chest and scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Next your temperature.” His paw moved to my forehead and rested there for a few seconds. “A little warm.” DogDays paw then slid down to my cheek and he rubbed his thumb there while asking me some questions. “Elevated heart and warm face, can you think of why this may be happening Angel?”

I just stared blankly at him. “I-I um couldn’t say.” DogDay nodded his head and went to go write something else down. “Well Angel, there’s only one thing that could describe these symptoms.” “Oh? And what’s that?” His other paw grabbed onto my face and pulled me closer to his. My heart started beating faster and faster as my face got close to his. I closed my eyes not knowing what to expect. “Mwah.” He kissed my nose. I fluttered my eyes open not expecting that. “You have a crush on me~” I chuckled nervously. “Whaaat?” “Don’t deny is Angel.” I tried thinking of something, anything! But couldn’t. I sighed in defeat and nodded. “I do.”

DogDays tail started wagging. “Well Angel I think you’ll be happy to know that I too, have a crush on you.” I smiled widely and pulled him into a hug. “Haha, oh I would’ve been crushed if it was one sided.” “Me too Angel. Thankfully Hoppy told me today after she visited you.” I pulled back and looked at him. “Hoppy?! She told you? I didn’t even say anything to her!! What did she say?!!” “Sorry Angel, I was sworn to secrecy.” I fell back onto the bed and laughed while shaking my head. “You guys and your secrecy.” We both laughed and spent the rest of the day together; now knowing that we both liked each other.

A/N: Yay he likes us back!!! Next chapter is the show!!

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #x reader #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #hoppy hopscotch

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babybluebex · 2 months

Text

happy sad confused | joseph quinn blurb

this is a sequel to off menu that i wrote nearly two years ago to the day (wow time flies jfc i wrote that in my mom's hotel room as i was moving lmao), so if you haven't read that yet, pop on over to that link, it'll take like 3 minutes, it's very short :)

"Do you have strong food tastes?" Josh asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

As opposed to the last podcast about food that Joe was on, you were present for the recording of this one. You remembered that day two years ago, right as everything was changing for you and your beau, when he had texted you asking if you listened to the Off Menu Podcast, and you had had to break James Acaster and Ed Gambles' hearts. Later, you had bumped into James at the BRIT Awards and were able to apologize for such a betrayal, and he had forgiven you, with the caveat that you did a shot with him (which you unfortunately had to decline, seeing as you were about 35 weeks into the standard pregnancy 40, and James accepted an alternate apology in the form of a hug).

Joe cast you a look from his place on the couch, a mortified smile playing at his lips. You knew he was thinking something like "Not this again", and you scoffed out a laugh. He was so funny sometimes that it made you sick, and you watched as Josh added, "Are you like, cilantro must be burned at the stake?"

Joe laughed. "Of all the herbs to bring up," he giggled. "Just, umm, a few weeks ago, my family was in Italy, all of us, my mum and stepdad and sister, the wife and boy, the whole lot, and, y'know, coriander is big over there— or cilantro, whatever you'd like to call it— and we were trying to convince our son, who's just turned a year old, to try something with coriander on it..." Joe paused, ruminating on the meal, and he looked at you, more distinctly and blatantly than before. "Babe? What were we trying to feed him when he wasn't havin' it?"

Your eyes widened, and you gulped as the entire room's attention shifted to you. Where your husband was a natural in front of people and cameras, it didn't come quite as painlessly to you. Especially since Anthony was born, you've been hyper-aware of the way people perceive you. You hoped, for your sake, that the focus was on your words and not you, and that people's eyes instead landed on the little tot standing with you. Little Anthony Quinn was holding both your hands, standing up but balanced on top of your feet, swinging and fidgeting about, waiting for Daddy to be done with work to come for a cuddle. "Just your garden-variety spaghetti," you said. "Not even with meat sauce or anything. The tomato sauce had cilantro, and he was not into it."

"Does he say it tastes like soap?" Josh asked. "'Cause that's some people's complaint."

"Well, he isn't really saying much of anything yet," Joe chuckled. "He's just one, remember. We've got 'Mama' in our arsenal, and 'juice', sometimes 'bankie' when he wants his blanket, but bankie can also mean his pacifier, so his 'binkie'— we haven't quite worked out the difference between bankie and binkie yet, but we're getting there."

"Regardless," Josh laughed. "Not a fan of the herb."

"He is the rest of the time," Joe said. "We do a roast every Sunday, and my wife taps me to do the chicken because she doesn't like handling meat, which I understand and, because I'm a good husband, I handle that for her so she can do the rest of the meal— but I put cilantro on the roast chicken and he eats it every week."

"No complaints?" Josh asked.

"None!" Joe exclaimed. "Eats it, eats the potatos, does the whole bit, and he always wants more! My kid doesn't like cilantro in spaghetti, but will eat a whole chicken by himself— make it make sense!"

"Well, with a baby around, I'm sure there's different food around than before," Josh asked. "My niece is into those, like, Gerber cheese snacks that are essentially Cheetos but not really—"

"Oh, we're familiar with the Lil' Crunchies," Joe nodded smoothly. "The mild cheddar flavor. What my son does is, he'll eat 'em by the fistful, yeah? And he decides to be nice and to share with us, which is very good of him, but he'll hand us a wet cheese puff that's half-disintegrated from the force of his little fist, and me and his mummy have gotta pretend like 'oh, yummy, thank you, Ant'."

“You brought up your girlfriend last time food was discussed,” Josh said, and Anthony stamped his little feet as he clearly wanted to run out to Daddy. “On the Off-Menu Podcast with James and Ed, who are just loads of fun. Is she still the same way, no mushrooms or anything?”

“Well, she’s my old lady now,” Joe chuckled. “We got married a few months after that podcast, just tired of not being married to each other yet, y’know? Plus, we found out that the boy was on his way, so it felt like as good a time as any. She's still picky, but there was a small time during her third trimester where she was eating everything in sight. For a few days there, she was doing popcorn with this, I don't know, novelty salt she bought at some shop in America? Anyway, it was pickle-flavored salt, and my girl... I love her, but pickle-salt popcorn... I have to draw a line somewhere."

"And that's the line," Josh chuckled. "Does she do pickles usually?"

"Um, yeah," Joe replied, and he bit his bottom lip as he smiled. "I guess I oughta get off my high horse, I don't like pickles. I'll eat 'em if they come on a sandwich or whatever, but I don't like it. But she'll take them off my hands and eat them for me; at the deli or whatever and I get one of those spears with my sandwich, and she's eating it for me before we're even out the door."

"Joseph Quinn, you hypocrite!" Josh exclaimed and Joe chortled. "Making fun of picky eaters but not eating pickles! For shame, sir!"

"It's my one flaw!" Joe cried. "Otherwise I'm perfect!"

You couldn't help your snort, and Joe turned to you in a flash. "Oh, do you have something to say, Mrs. Quinn?" he asked. "Something to add?"

"You thinking not eating pickles is your one flaw is very funny," you told him, smoothing your hand down Anthony's hair. "I could talk about the sock situation in our laundry room at the moment, or how your windowsill herb garden has spilled out onto our balcony, or how you always rile up the dog and Ant before bedtime, or—"

"Alright!" Joe whined playfully, and Anthony squealed out a laugh, recognizing Daddy's play-voice. "I get it! Stop the attack, woman, jeez."

"She's got a list," Josh smiled. "Are there any foods that are, like, special to you? Make you think of home or anything like that?"

"Um, yeah," Joe said thoughtfully. "Obviously a roast chicken. Umm, oddly, we have these little biscuits in the U.K., like it's a layer of sponge, then orange jam, then chocolate, but they're small, we have 'em with tea— they're called Jaffa cakes, and I don't have strong opinions on them, but my wife calls me Jaffa Cake when she's being sweet to me."

"Why Jaffa Cake?" Josh wheezed. "Are you just particularly sweet like one of those cookies?"

"Well, my initials," Joe began. "They're J.A.F, and one time a while ago, when we first started dating, we went out and she got very drunk. I ended up bringing her back to my flat because I didn't want her having to get an Uber alone back to her's, and she raided the pantry while I was showering, and she was eating out a packet of Jaffa cakes that my roommate had when I got back, and... I don't know, she was hammered and started laughing and calling me that, and she's never stopped."

You were glad he cut the story off there, because the detail Joe neglected to mention was that he had given you his bed to sleep in, and when you woke up the next morning, you had gotten ill in his bathroom. He had held your hair back and wiped your mouth with a washcloth when you were done, and he had kissed you for the very first time, even after you warned him that he probably didn't want to do that. While it was a very sweet story, you still burned with embarrassment at the memory of how drunk you had gotten that night.

"But yeah," Joe said. "Whenever I'm away from home and missing her, I track down a package of Jaffa cakes, and just even the smell of 'em make me think of my girl."

"Along with a roast chicken," Josh added, and Joe sputtered through his lips.

"Chicken and biscuits, the perfect way to think of my wife," Joe said. "You should come over next time you're in London. I'll roast you a chicken."

"That was... A lot of eye contact just then," Josh laughed. "I'm almost nervous now."

"Nah, don't be," Joe smiled. "I'll roast you a chicken, my son will show you his LEGO collection, we'll have a grand time."

#bex says #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x reader fluff

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eleganzadellarosa · 1 year

Text

Coparenting

pairing: babydaddy!Jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI)

warnings: dom!Jaehyun, slight breeding kink, daddy kink, rough sex, make up sex, hair pulling, spanking, manhandling, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, pet names (baby, my girl, sunshine, baby mama(he literally calls her this once as a joke), baby girl), slight pussydrunk Jae, mentions of underage drinking

word count: 10,373

AN: I wanted to write something for Jaehyun and this plot came to me so I wrote it out :) enjoy and thanks for reading! <3

You: You really fucked up this time Jae

Jae: I don’t know what to say…

You: Maybe sorry? You never actually say sorry

Jae: I’ll be there for you both, you know that

You: Whatever Jae, you know where to send the money

You kept the last text messages you sent each other to read them whenever you felt yourself falling back into an unrealistic fantasy, just to remind you why you broke up in the first place.

You were young, he was young. 19 to be exact. It was freshman year of college and one thing lead to another and you decided to keep the baby. He wasn’t against it but deep down you both knew you weren’t ready for parenthood quite yet. You had 6 years of dating history with him, having met him in your first year of high school. It wasn’t until you got pregnant that his personality changed and it lead him to do stupid things.

“You’re going to be a dad soon Jae, you can’t just act like that’s not a thing.”

“Who said I wasn’t? I’m literally just trying to live my life as a normal 19 year old! We’re not getting this age back so you can’t be mad!”

He didn’t understand at the time and you haven’t spoken to him since you broke up to know if he’s matured in any way. You loved him and you know he loved you, but there was no way you could handle the stress of him changing so suddenly.

“Come on baby, you have to come put your shoes on now” you called from the kitchen as you packed the small lunchbox into a backpack not much larger.

Being a single mom was difficult but you loved your daughter enough to look past all the hardships. You worked your ass off to make sure she went to a good school to get the best education since you didn’t have the luxury of staying home to teach her yourself.

She runs into the living room across from the kitchen and sits on the floor by the front door to slip on her shoes. You smile to yourself when you see she’s getting the hang of putting them on the correct foot.

You grabbed her backpack and your lunch bag and rushed to put your shoes on as well. You checked her outfit one last time before walking out the door.

It was routine to take her inside and to her classroom, making sure she made it safely and to greet her teacher every morning.

“Hi Mia! Let’s all say good morning to Mia!” the teacher waved both her hands to get the kids’ attention.

“Good morning Mia!” they all shouted in unison and a few of them ran up to hug her.

You stopped her to exchange your goodbye kisses before she ran off with her friends. “Thank you so much, I will be back later to pick her up.” You waved to her teacher as you walked toward the door.

“Of course, you have a great day!”

It was also routine for you to make a quick stop at the local cafe for a hot drink before work, usually choosing anything that goes good with two shots of espresso. When you walked in, a mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg and every other fall scent filled the air, making it clear of the changing seasons.

The man in front of you stood tall and browsed the many options on the overhead menu. “Must be new”you thought. Ever since you moved to this small town, you’ve grown used to seeing familiar faces, so someone not knowing what they wanted from the menu in such a popular cafe was strange.

He was handsome from the back. Dark chocolate locks slightly slicked back minus the few strands that fell to the front and a great sense of style. He wore a simple brown turtleneck under a black jacket with black pants and shoes to match. He looked expensive. You stopped staring at him so intensely when he finally spoke up to order.

“I’ll go with the pumpkin spice latte, and add two shots of espresso please.”

Funny, that’s exactly what you planned on ordering. Great fashion sense and good taste? Now you were curious if his face matched his handsome image from the back. To your dismay, he went straight over to sit at one of the corner tables by the window, back turned toward you.

“Hey, great morning we’re having! What can I get ya?” the cashier at the front greeted you as she always does, seeming to always have a smile on her face.

“Uh, I’ll actually order what he did” you pointed in the dapper man’s direction and she nodded her head as she pressed a few buttons on the screen.

“That’ll be $3.75”

You took your card out of your wallet and tapped it against the card reader. You went to sit at your favorite seat and wait for your order to be called.

“Pumpkin spice latte, two shots of espresso!”

You looked up from your phone and watched the barista push two identical cups forward on the counter in the pickup area. As you approached your drink, you looked over to see the man still sitting in his seat. He must not have heard them call out the order, but taking a quick glance at your watch there was no way you had time to be a good samaritan and make it to work on time.

You picked up your latte and walked toward the door, taking one last look back to see if you would witness him getting his drink before you fully stepped out. Surprisingly, he got up from his seat and turned around to go over and retrieve his order. You felt cold, body frozen with your hand on the “push to open” door. Your hands were trembling, drink barely secure in them. Your heart dropped.

There he was, in the flesh. The father of your child and the man you once called “the love of your life”. You moved to this town to start a new life and get away from having possible run ins with him, but seeing as he was standing in the cafe you visited everyday like clockwork, your plan to stay hidden had been ruined. You quickly turned around before he looked in your direction and pushed the door open.

You stared at the road in a daze, driving with your limbs on autopilot. It’s going on 5 years since you’ve seen him last and could have gone the rest of your life without doing so.

You had to admit, seeing him made you realize how much he blossomed more into an adult in such a short amount of time. You missed him, but had to think of the text messages that still sat in your phone today. You could never let yourself fall down that hole again, especially for your daughter’s sake. You hated Mia not knowing her father, but it was best for now that she didn’t get attached to someone who might not stay.

You parked your car in the lot, hands still gripping the steering wheel, your head falling forward on the horn. It was going to be tough getting through your shift today with the anxiety bubbling up in you. What was he doing here anyways? To you, he had no business in this small town. There was nothing too exciting about the place and it seemed to house mostly people 30 and above.

Whatever he was here for, you hoped it was only for today and you didn’t have to go through seeing him on a regular basis.

4 o’clock came sooner than you expected, probably thanks to how unfocused you were all day. Right now your daughter was the only thing on your mind and you wanted to pick her up quickly so she didn’t wait longer than need be.

“Mommy mommy! Look, I got a sticker!” she runs up to you with her arm extended to show you the sticky image on the back of her hand.

“Wooow baby, it’s so nice! Who gave that to you?”

“Mrs. Burgess! She said I did really good on my writing my name today!”

You smiled and patted her on the head, picking her up and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Great job my Mia, mommy’s so proud! You have to show mommy how you write your name later okay?”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around your neck as you opened the back passenger door for her to sit in her car seat. After strapping her in, you slid in the front ready to get home and end the day.

“Mommy, next week is parent’s day! Everyone made paper flowers for their mommies and daddies.”

“Ooo a surprise for mommy? I can’t wait to see it!”

“Yes! I made one for daddy too so tell him to come too!”

You froze in your seat, taking a peek at her from the rear view mirror. “Mia…daddy’s not here remember?” you swallowed thickly, hoping that she would skip over her mistake and leave the conversation alone.

“Why can’t daddy come this one time? I want to give daddy his flower.”

You were stumped. As much as you tried to prepare yourself for this day, your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to contact him, you didn’t want to see him, you just didn’t want to get hurt again. You weren’t even sure if he had the same number if you did want to shoot him a text. You were the one to break up with him because of his antics and you were also the reason why he had never come to visit. From changing your number to moving to a whole different city, you tried to erase your identity from his memory.

It wasn’t something you wanted to worry about and you hoped your daughter would simply forget by the time next week came around.

The next morning, you went back to the cafe, heart not racing until you look over at where he sat yesterday. Thankfully no one who matched the description sat there now and you considered yourself off the hook. What were the chances he had actually moved to this city and yesterday was one of many days you’d run into each other?

“Hey Emma, same as yesterday please!” you smiled at your normal cashier and went to go sit in your usual spot after you paid.

“Y/N?” The voice sounded unsure, cautious, in disbelief. When you turned around, his eyes matched the tone of the words that left his mouth. “Oh my god, it really is you! You look…good.”

Your mind was going haywire. Jaehyun was standing merely inches away from you, looking just as good as he did yesterday in much more comfortable attire.

“Hey Jae.” you said weakly, “Yeah, you too.”

“I uh…would have paid for your drink if I knew it was you.” He smiled his signature smile. That damn smile and those stupid dimples. It took everything in you to not slap the look off his face. “C-can you talk? It’s been a while.”

Admittedly you didn’t have to be to work for another hour and a half, so you had time since it was only 30 minutes away and traffic was still good. You were indeed curious what he wanted to talk about but didn’t want it to turn out like it did the many times you played it out in your head. It wouldn’t hurt to try though.

“Uhhhh yeah sure.”

He smiled as if he high-fived himself for getting you to agree and he followed you back to your table after grabbing the drinks.

“How have you been? I hadn’t seen you around and now I know why.”

“I’ve been good, just working. And yeah, I’ve been here. How have you been?” You looked down at your cup and let your thumbs play with the sides.

“I’ve been good too. Working mostly, nothing special.”

You nodded your head and gave him a small smile, having the courage to finally look up at him.

“How’s the little one?” he asked hesitantly but you knew it would come out eventually.

“Mia? She’s good. She’s in kindergarten now.”

His eyes widened and the grip on his cup got a bit tighter. You forgot he didn’t know the name you chose since you moved before you went into labor and never got the chance to discuss any of those things.

“Wow, I see I missed a lot…”

“Yeah Jae, you did.”

“Well if you don’t mind, I can change that. I’m actually in the process of moving here in like 2 weeks. I can take her to school some days and watch her too to take something off your plate.”

Fear welled up in your chest at the mention of him taking her since it felt like he would never bring her back. “I’m actually not comfortable with that at all. I’m not sure she needs someone so unstable this early in her life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well I don’t know Jae, I was alone my entire pregnancy so I’m not sure I can trust you to be there for her.”

He looked down and his jaw shifted, mouth hanging from the scoff he let out. “I know what I did was wrong and I’m very sorry about that, but you moved and changed your number before you even had her so what the hell was I supposed to do?!”

You knew he was right but you hated that he dismissed the reason you left in the first place. This conversation was a bad idea just like you thought it would be and you didn’t want it to last any longer than it needed to. You stared at him with a deadpan expression and stood up from your seat. He grabbed your arm and sat you back down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come across so harshly. I just wanted to be there for the both of you and that wasn’t the easiest thing. I know I made some mistakes but I would never leave our daughter like that.”

“My daughter and I don’t know if I can trust that Jae. I don’t want to see her sad.”

“I promise you I wouldn’t want to see either of my girls sad. Give me your number, I can text you when I get settled in and we can discuss this some more.”

It felt like the energy in the earth shifted while you handed him your phone. That “my girls” shit you completely ignored and had no time to fall for one of his tricks. Why did it have to come to this, you not trusting anything he says?

When you got in your car and drove off, tears streamed down your face. In some way you felt defeated like he broke through the defenses that you so effortlessly built. It was scary, him reentering your life right after your daughter mentioned the parent event at school.

A week passed and you had forgotten all about parent’s day until the morning of when Mia told you “not to forget to tell daddy to come”. She never worried about this man before or maybe you were so stuck on keeping him away that you didn’t notice how much she wanted him around.

Ding

Jae: Hey, I just wanted to ask if you could send me some pictures of Mia? I don’t want to go crazy and ask for all of them, but I wanna see her from day one.

You stared down at the text and then looked at the date. According to him at the cafe, he should be here next week and you knew he’d want to see her. You also knew that if you told him about Mia’s flower for him, he’d be over asap. Not yet you thought. Him meeting her would have to wait until he got here and until you were ready. For now, pictures would have to suffice.

Jae: She’s so gorgeous 💕

Jae: She looks a lot like you I think but she definitely has my dimples!

The comparison made you sick. You knew it was his kid but you tried not to see his side of it. Fuck, this was gonna end so badly, you could feel it. One more week, one more week before you had to deal with whatever he threw your way and truthfully you weren’t ready to catch it.

It was time to pick up Mia and attend the parent’s day event. You walked inside the classroom and smiled at all the other parents and teachers that you passed by. Seeing all the couples made you realize just how single you were and you lowkey wished Jaehyun was here to make it not feel so awkward.

Mia’s eyes lit up when she saw you and ran over with your flower in one hand and his in the other.

“Did daddy come too?!”

You chuckled awkwardly and shook your head. She looked up at you for a few seconds before bursting out into tears, shocking you and everyone else in the classroom. You quickly picked her up to shush her but her feelings were hurt and you would be trying to comfort her for a while. Your poor baby, you hated doing this to her but she didn’t know how scary the whole situation was.

Maybe it was only scary for you and she would be just fine with everything if he decided to leave again. You missed him. His presence, his laugh…his dick. The relationship was going so strong and one small mistake messed it all up. Boys are so stupid you said to yourself while you rubbed her back and fought the tears building up in your eyes.

He never told you what day exactly he would be here but when the next week hit, your anxiety increased tenfold. He probably felt so good about himself for knowing you anticipated his call, text or even seeing him in the cafe again. You actually hadn’t seen him since the last time and you guessed it was because he had a few more things to sort out before he moved.

Ding

You looked down at your phone when you heard the notification. His name shines brightly on your phone and your palms get sweaty.

Jae: Hey Y/N, I just finished moving all my stuff in. I wanted to take you and Mia out to the park this weekend if you weren’t busy.

There it was. The time you knew was coming but still didn’t fully prepare for. He was once again taking control of the situation and you detest not being able to gain it back.

You: Hey Jae, sure what time and which park did you want to meet at?

He turned his read receipts on for you, so you knew he checked your message almost immediately. He gave you a time and place and said to also let him know if you were down for lunch. You felt the slight warmth in your heart, feeling like you did back when you used to date. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want your feelings for him to come back just because he was around again because you knew it would cloud your judgement.

If he messed up again, you would have the pleasure of telling him “I told you so” which gave you something to look forward to. When you got home and told Mia that "daddy wanted to see her", she almost went through the roof with how high she jumped. She even went to school and told all her friends about it. You had never seen her so excited for something and you hoped he didn't let her down.

When the weekend approached, you stood in front of your mirror staring at your outfit for too long. In reality, you weren't really looking at your outfit, you were stuck in another daze not mentally ready for what the day had to bring. You chose something between casual and cute just in case the park got you dirty. An oversized argyle sweater tucked in a pair of light blue jeans. As for your hair, you settled on some loose curls.

"Come on mommy, let's go see daddy!" Mia was already by the door putting on her shoes.

"Are you sure you're ready to see daddy?" you spoke to her as you straightened her clothes and added bows to her two pigtails. If she said no, you would have made up any excuse for her, but seeing how she couldn't sit still while you added her accessories meant that her backing out wasn't an option.

Ding

Jae: I'm omw there now, it's not too far from me so it won't take me long.

You: Okay, we're otw too.

You took your last deep breath before walking out the door. When you stepped out the car with Mia, she immediately ran over to get on the slide. You took a seat on the bench across from her, keeping an eye on her around all the other kids. You watched her aimlessly, thumbs twiddling as you waited.

"Hey."

You turned to see Jaehyun walking up to you with a bag in hand. He was dressed in a plain black tee covered by a burgundy cardigan, black jeans and black sneakers. God he looked so good, why did he have to be so damn fine?

"Oh hey." you smiled and waved lightly.

He sat next to you on the bench, knees touching.

"I brought Mia a gift. I'm not really sure what she likes but she always had a bear with her in her baby pics, figured she'd want an upgrade." He reached into the bag and pulled out a small plush rabbit, something you knew Mia would love. He reached in for something else, and pulled out a small box, handing it over to you. "I got you a little something too."

You raised both your eyebrows in shock and grabbed the box from him. You opened it to see a spa voucher for a full body massage and under it was a small dainty necklace with a single diamond on it. You loved simple jewelry liked this and apparently he remembered.

"Oh that's so thoughtful of you Jae, I really love it. Thank you."

He look relieved that he properly guessed what you'd like as a gift. He opened his mouth to say something but got cut off by Mia.

"Daddy! Hi daddy!" she came running over to you both when she saw him sitting next to you.

Your heads shot in her direction and you looked over at him, the biggest smile spread across his face. He opened his arms and she crashed into the hug as he picked her up and sat her on his lap.

"Hi Mia! I'm so glad to see you, you look so pretty!"

"You look pretty too daddy, I'm so happy you came! Since you didn't come to my school, I'm going to give you your flower now!"

He looked over at you confused and you felt guilty for not telling him about the special day. She reached into her bag that sat next to you and pulled out the paper flower similar to the one she made for you. His face brightened and he leaned over to grab it.

"Wow Mia you did such a great job! Daddy has something for you too!"

Her face lights up and she jumps up and down. "Daddy has a gift for me mommy!" You laugh at her excitement and nod your head. She squealed and spun around with the rabbit he gave her and thanked him multiple times in a short minute. She went over to hug him again and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you daddy! She's my favorite!"

He laughed and rubbed her head before she sped off, back to whatever kids she made friends with.

"It's kind of unbelievable."

"What?" you didn't know what he meant but patiently waited for his answer.

"I can't believe we have a kid together and she's already this big. 5 years seems like such a long time."

"It is. A very long time actually." You caught a lump in your throat when you were forced back to the reality of the situation. Seeing him and Mia interact so well together makes you wish you could turn back time and start things off on a better foot. Jaehyun was a great guy and you knew that, but you couldn't forgive him for his immaturity back then.

You sat on top of the toilet, hands shaking and eyes watery looking at the positive result on the pregnancy test. You didn't mean for this to happen and didn't think it actually would happen. It's not like you and Jae never fucked raw, but his pullout game was usually top tier. You both got too caught up in the moment and he came in you with no hesitation. You thought everything would be fine since you immediately went to the bathroom, but the double lines staring back at you told you a different story.

You were scared, not because you didn't want a baby with him but that was a plan you made for years down the line. You were both freshmen in college and this would ultimately throw a few wrenches in both your plans. You knew he would be understanding though and that helped ease your mind some.

You: come over after the game, we gotta talk

Jae: 👀 uh oh babe, don't scare me like this. Is it bad?

You: not exactly...

You: just come over when you're done

There was a knock on your dorm door within the next 10 minutes and you know he stopped the game of basketball he was playing with his friends for you. Your feet dragged you to the door and you opened it, Jaehyun out of breath on the other side. His shirt was missing and sweat dripped off his body.

"What's wrong baby? Is everything okay?" he asked walking in and closing the door behind him.

You hated that the moment couldn't be better than you telling him in the living room of your slightly run down dorm. You grabbed the test out the pocket of your red pajama shorts and held it up so he could see it.

"Jae, I'm pregnant."

His eyes grew to the size of tomatoes as everything sank in and he stood there stiff as a board. You were starting to get nervous when he didn't say anything and wasn't really sure how to handle his reaction.

"Jae say something, you're scaring me..."

"I-oh my god...I mean baby I'm so happy but this is just so sudden."

"You came in me last month Jae, there was always a possibility. And you don't really look happy."

"I know baby, I know, I just didn't think it would actually happen." He pulled you into a hug a rubbed your back. "I'm happy for us, I really am and I know you'll be a great mom."

This all came as a shock to you too so his reaction wasn't far fetched. Everything that followed after is what surprised you. He barely ever spent time with you anymore and he was always out sneaking drinks with his friends. Jaehyun was never a fan of alcohol but the news of your pregnancy seemed to unleash a new side of him and you hated it.

One night a friend of his texted you to come get him because he was so drunk and feeling up on every girl at the party. It was disappointing and embarrassing, his behavior was outta control and he never had an explanation for it. You got to the party and saw him hugged up on some random girl who was taking advantage of the attention. You went over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Ooooooooh, hey babe. I didn't know you were invited." His eyes were droopy and he slurred every word. He grabbed around your waist from the couch he sat on and leaned his head against your stomach.

You pushed his head off and dragged him by the arm, pulling hard as he resisted.

"Get the fuck off me! Why are you trying to ruin this for me?"

The words came out harshly and you couldn't help but think he wasn't talking about the party when he said "ruin". Most people stopped to look at the fight brewing between you and Jae, and you felt the heat rise in your face. Tears threatened to fall when he shoved you away again and walked off, leaving you to stand in the crowd by yourself.

It was that night you made up your mind that he wouldn't be the partner you thought him to be and you had to move on without him. That's the night the messages were exchanged and you changed your number not long after, not waiting to hear whatever shitty excuse he came up with.

As you sat on the bench with him looking at the daughter that formed from you two, you wanted things to be different. You wanted to be able to lock your fingers with his and know that he was going back to a home you shared.

All of it was as true as a pig flying. As if being able to feel the shift in energy from you, Jaehyun looks over and watches how you watch Mia in a daze, eyes showing sadness he’s never witnessed. He wanted to pull you in for a hug, kiss your forehead and rub your back but he knew the reason behind that sadness was him.

He hated what he did to you and how he acted. Everything was just so sudden and truthfully it scared him. The idea of being a dad but the expectation of being a GOOD dad. He was fucking terrified and he made the wrong decision of trying to drink and party his fears away.

Before he could apologize you were already gone. Dropped out as if school no longer mattered, or most importantly, him. He loved you more than words could describe and he messed it all up, possibly never having the chance of getting it back. Not being able to handle the sorrow you tried to conceal, he suggested you all went for lunch since Mia had been playing continuously for the hour you had been here.

“Come on Mia, let’s go eat with…let’s go eat.” you stopped yourself from referring to him as “daddy” simply because you’re not sure how long this relationship would last and it would feel weird calling him that all of a sudden.

Mia runs over and grabs Jaehyun’s hand and looks up at him with a wide smile. He looks down and returns the smile and tightens his grip. He looked good as a dad and it was something you never doubted, just unfortunate circumstances that made you think otherwise.

“You guys can ride with me and I can just bring you back here to your car when we’re done. Is that okay?” He looks at you as he stands at his car, hand resting on the roof of the driver’s side.

Before you could speak, Mia shouted excitedly that she wanted to ride with him so there was no way you could say no especially since you weren’t ready to have him be alone with her.

He smiled and jogged over to the passenger side where you thought he’d be opening the door for Mia but opens your door instead. You turned around to thank him as you got in, but he was already buckling her in the backseat. It felt weird not being the one to drive around wherever you needed to go but it felt nice at the same time. Being a passenger princess eased your mind some and you felt like a chore had been crossed off your list.

“Everyone buckled in?” He hopped into the driver’s seat and looked in the rearview mirror at his daughter before looking at you and you give him a nod.

You kept your eyes on the road as best as you could but they would occasionally slide over and watch him drive. You rolled your eyes for constantly letting his looks distract you. You couldn’t help but notice how much more toned his body seemed under his clothing, and remembering how your nails would dig into his back while he roughly thrusted into you.

Ugh. You clenched your jaw and shooed the image in your head away, sitting in silence for the remainder of the ride. When he pulled into the parking lot, his arm instinctively reached behind your seat to boost him up high so he could see as he parked. You didn’t expect to blush so hard, but having him this close and smelling his cologne had you sidetracked.

“Daddy you’re a good driver, I’m going to drive like daddy when I get big!” Mia exclaims when Jaehyun opens her door and unbuckles her.

He chuckled and smiled as he picked her up, “Thank you baby, daddy will teach you okay?”

He carries her to the door of the restaurant and opens it for you. When you enter, you can feel his eyes watching you. After sitting down and ordering, there was a slight awkward silence besides the few times Mia would think of something she wanted to tell him. You and Jae ordered pasta and Mia wanted a sandwich.

"Daddy can you cut my sandwich please? It's too big." She pouted as she pushed her plate closer to Jaehyun's side of the table.

"Mia, honey you have to do some things yourself…”

He waved his hand dismissing whatever you just said. “No it’s okay, I’ll cut her sandwich for her especially because she asked very politely, good job Mia.” He patted her head and grabbed her plate.

Just watching their interactions showed you just how much Mia is falling in love with being around him and you can’t help but want to cry. You want this relationship between them to work, you don’t want her to feel the sadness you did. A part of you also wants you and Jaehyun to work but you brushed it off as a rekindling feeling because you haven’t been with anyone like this in a long time.

“How’s your food? I saw this place had good reviews so I’m hoping it lives up to the expectations.”

“Oh, it’s actually really good. I’ve never been here before so it felt nice to try somewhere new.”

“Oh really? How come you’ve never come here?” He leaned forward, chin resting in the palm of his hand, attentive and ready to listen.

You stared at him for a second. Gosh he’s so gorgeous, you see why you started dating him in the first place. But it was this moment now, the way all his attention was focused on you that made your heart flutter and you suddenly felt 19 again. He had always been so good with listening to whatever problems you had and never made you feel like you couldn’t talk to him. You missed that and with the lack of friends in the past few years, it felt good to have an adult to hang out with.

Being a single mother made you have to put in the extra work so you never stopped to make friends. It was your fault but it didn’t help knowing that you were only overworking yourself to keep your mind off of him. You wanted him to hug you, hold you tight and tell you everything was okay. That all the years you spent apart were worth it and necessary.

“Uh, I don’t know. I guess I usually just don’t have time for myself.”

“You don’t hang out with your friends?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I…don’t have any friends. I’ve been working a lot since Mia was born, so I don’t really have time to make friends. And I also don’t have a babysitter nor would I trust a random person to watch her.”

Although he tried to hide it, there was a gloominess in his eyes as he listened to you. "I understand and I'm sorry you went through so much. I'm serious when I say I will always be here for the both of you no matter what. I lov-I care about you and Mia so much and would never do anything else to hurt you. I promise." He grabbed your hand that rested on the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

You caught how he almost said he loved you. Did he really or was he just saying that to make you trust him? The feeling felt foreign after so many years and you weren’t sure how to handle it.

“I had fun today daddy!" Mia rushes over to hug him and he picks her up and squeezes her tight.

"Aww I'm so glad you did, daddy had fun too. I'll come see you and mommy again soon okay?" He put her down and watched her run back to you. He walked over to hug you also, hesitating a bit but went through with it when you didn't back away.

It was more like a side hug because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it was a hug nonetheless. You surprised yourself letting him get so close but even with the 2 seconds his arm wrapped around you, it felt so nice to be in his arms again. He was softening the walls you built up and it made you feel stupid for letting it happen so quickly.

"Thank you for taking care of her for so long, you're such a good mother. I'm going to keep my promise to the both of you, I'm very serious about this. You have my number, so don't hesitate to call me and ask for anything. I'm right here and from now on I will always be here."

You bit on the inside of your lip and focused your gaze toward the ground. You weren't sure if you wanted to slap him then hug him or just hug him. You waited this long to have someone by your side to make you feel like you weren't alone in all this but it still made you feel so uneasy, and truthfully it was stressful. You were going to trust him this time and see where it got you, already preparing yourself for the worst.

In the next few weeks, he kept in touch to either check on you and Mia or to ask if you needed anything from him. You were growing soft to him, falling in love with him all over. You felt like you were finally getting the attention you'd been missing all this time and it felt weird knowing it was coming from him.

Today, he was coming over to help with grocery shopping. You told him he didn't have to but he insisted on helping and carrying the groceries in the house so you wouldn't have to move a muscle.

"That's what I'm here for" he said when you told him you'd been doing it by yourself this whole time. "You don't have to worry about that type of thing anymore with me here."

Shopping went well until some jerk decided to hit you with his cart because you stood in front of something he wanted.

Jaehyun went over and shoved him on the shoulder. "What’s wrong with you man?! You couldn't just say excuse me?!"

The man went to shove Jaehyun back but he slapped the guy's hand away before it connected. "Maybe tell your stupid girlfriend to read the room and not stand in front of stuff, asshole."

"Hey man, watch your mouth around my daughter and don't talk about my girl like that.” He took a step closer to the man. “You better apologize before I fuck you up."

A blush painted your cheeks hearing the conversation between the two men. You looked over at Mia whose lip was pouting as she tried not to cry. You hurried to the front of the cart and hugged her against your chest to shush her. They argued continuously and you saw Jaehyun's hand ball into a fist. You went over and rubbed his arm to hopefully ease his anger.

"Jae it's not worth it, people like him don't deserve your time.”

His jaw clenched and his fist unclenched. He goes to turn around and the man says one last thing to tip Jaehyun over the top.

"Yeah man listen to your girlfriend, she's a keeper. If you don't fuck her, I will."

Jaehyun turns around and punches the man in the face, causing him to stumble back against the shelves. Both you and Mia scream and you stop Jaehyun from landing another punch. Security comes to further break up the fight and ask about what happened. Thankfully there were witnesses who vouched for Jaehyun and the guard let him off the hook while escorting the belligerent man out the store.

Jae went back to pushing Mia in the cart and thumbed away her drying tears. "I'm so sorry Mia, daddy didn't mean for you to see him that way. He doesn't like for anyone to say bad things about his girls." He looked up at you and offered an apologetic smile.

Back in the car, you noticed his knuckles slightly bruised as his hand rests on top of the gear shift. You looked up at him and could tell he was still slightly annoyed by the situation from earlier. You placed your hand on top of his and his expression softened.

"Thank you for earlier, for protecting us. I don't want you getting yourself into trouble over anything like that though."

"Y/N I know, I'm sorry. I just couldn't handle him talking about you like that."

"Jae...I'm not even your girlfriend though."

"You're special to me and the mother of my child, so it doesn't really matter." he says as he backs into your driveway. He looks back at you, slightly leaning onto your armrest. "Don't ever think that someone will be able to talk crazy about you in front of me."

You quickly avoided his gaze and unbuckled your seat belt. "I have to get her inside so she can eat and get ready for bed, it's late."

He sighed to himself and pressed the button to open the trunk. "Okay I'll get the bags, just get Mia and open the door for me."

He helped you bring in all the bags and even put the groceries away. This was his first time being in your home and it truly felt odd.

"Daddy, are you going to stay and eat dinner with me and mommy?"

He stopped playing with her and looked up at you, who looked back at him.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure mommy is sleepy baby, maybe another time? You have to get to sleep soon after you eat."

She pouted her lips and looked at you. It wouldn't hurt to have him stay since he was so nice and helpful today.

"No, I'm actually fine and I would love to repay you for your kindness. Stay with us for dinner Jae."

He looked down at Mia and they both smiled. He kissed her forehead and got up to come into the kitchen with you. "Well at least let me help with dinner." He grabbed your waist and slid past you to get to the fridge. "Lemme know what you need and I'll cut, chop or whatever else for you."

For dinner, you made chicken parmesan and caesar salad. He did a lot of the prep work and set the table after. You caught yourself blushing a few times having him stand next to you and from the overall interactions.

"Come on Mia, let's eat!" you had to get her attention since she was fully focused on whatever storyline she made up for her dolls.

"It smells so good mommy, I'm so hungry!"

Jaehyun chuckled and you smiled at her compliments. "Well daddy helped too so you have to tell him that too."

Her mouth formed a small "oh" and her eyebrows stood in shock. "Daddy's a chef!"

You both laugh at her choice of words and get settled at the table, ready to eat. Dinner was a success, everyone had perfectly clean plates and bowls. Maybe it was because you were happy, but dinner just tasted so much better. Maybe you should have him over more often.

"Daddy...do you love mommy?" The sudden question from Mia made both you and Jaehyun quickly look up at her, you almost choking on the drink you were sipping.

"Why do you ask Mia?" Jaehyun is the first to speak up after the slightly long silence.

"Well...you always tell me you love me but you never say it to mommy and mommy never says it to you. But you should love each other because that's just how mommies and daddies are."

He chuckled nervously, unsure of how to respond. He cleared his throat when he felt your eyes on him, waiting to see what he would tell her.

"Yes...I do love mommy. I will always love her so don't you worry okay? Come on, let's go get ready for bed. I want to say goodnight to you before I go."

He got up from the table and took her in the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. You wanted to pull your hair out. Knowing he still had feelings for you made this so much harder. You loved him too, you know you did and you never doubted it. It was just still so hard to accept that he wouldn't do anything to mess up whatever you had now.

After cleaning the dinner dishes, you went and sat on the couch and opened a bottle of wine you had stored for a few months. You set down your glass and pulled out the cork. You weren't much of a drinker, but tonight you were in need.

You turned around when you heard the door to Mia's room close and saw Jaehyun tiptoeing away from it. He put his finger to his lips to tell you to stay quiet.

"She's asleep, she was so tired." He came around and sat on the couch with you, eyeing the bottle of wine on the coffee table. "Mind if I stay for a drink?"

You shook your head and pointed to the cabinet containing the glasses and he grabbed one before reclaiming his spot on the couch. You both sat in silence having finished your quarter full glasses a while ago. You looked in the direction of Mia's room and looked back at Jaehyun, both of your elbows resting on the back of the couch.

"You mean a lot to her Jae, I can see how much she loves spending time with you."

"What about you?"

The question threw you off guard but you should have expected it after he confessed his feelings at the dinner table. "What about me?"

"Do I mean a lot to you? I know I messed up a lot in the past, but I'm really trying Y/N."

Your eyes met his again and if there was one word that would describe the way he looked at you, it would be genuine. You knew he was telling the truth and you knew he expected an answer.

"I-I...I don't know Jae, honestly this whole thing has been terrifying and I can't help but want to keep my guard up. I've been so alone these past few years that accepting you back into my life scares me so much. I just don't want to be alone again..."

He grabbed your face in his hands and softly kissed your forehead. "I know, I know and I'm sorry. My babygirl didn't deserve that and I really want to make it up to you. Just trust me and let me take care of you and Mia, let me be in your life again. Please."

You felt stuck, stuck in between wanting to hate him and wanting to let him love you, leaning more toward the latter. Perhaps it was the tiny bit of wine in your system, definitely not enough to get you drunk, but enough to give you confidence.

You leaned forward and kissed him, heart beating fast enough to power a machine. When you leaned back, he looked at you with an unreadable expression. The alcohol immediately left your bloodstream and your face burned with embarrassment.

"Jae I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

He pulls you back into the kiss, hand dragging you in by the waist. He put his all into it and you were starting to feel dizzy. The last time you kissed him was before you had Mia, so to say the kiss had your body heating with lust was an understatement.

He tugged at you and pulled you into his lap, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck. His hands were everywhere, never stopping in one place for too long. He slid his hands under your shirt, playing with your boobs for a quick second before tossing the shirt over your head. He broke the kiss and looked at your chest like a kid in a candy store. You wanted to cover them with your hands, but he slipped a hand behind your back to unclasp your bra before you could.

Your breasts fell free and he wasted no time in letting his lips wrap around your nipple. His hand came up to massage the other one and your hands came up to tangle in his hair. After not being with him for so long, you forgot just how much you missed the sex with him. He was always a giver and always made sure you came even if he didn't. Eventually his hands traveled down your back and landed on your hips. He rolled his hips up into you and you both moaned into the kiss.

You reached down between your bodies and palmed him through the pants he wore. He ground up into your hand and you felt just how hard he was. As you began to fiddle with the waistband, he shifted and eased you down onto the couch as he moved between your legs.

"Jae-"

"Shh shh baby, let me take care of you tonight. Let me show you how much I missed you."

He kissed his way down your stomach, placing a kiss on each side of your hip bones. He slipped off your skirt and panties in one go, a string of your arousal sticking to your underwear.

"Fuck, you're so wet..." He bit his lip and dragged a finger through your folds, playing with the slippery mess between them.

He bent down to connect his lips to your pussy. He made a few circles around your clit with his tongue, earning moans from you, before slipping a finger in. You gasped and your hips bucked involuntarily. He moved them faster and faster, holding your thigh down with the hand not in use. You can tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were with his heavy breathing and the way he slightly humped the couch beneath him.

He then used the hand holding down your thigh to rub circles on your clit as his tongue joined his fingers.

“Jae, I’m so close!”

Your legs tried closing but he used his elbows to stop them.

“Cum for me baby, let it out.” The vibrations of his voice sent shockwaves through your nerves.

The simultaneous stimulation sent you over the edge and your toes curled almost cramping your foot. He brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact.

He moved up your body to trap you in another kiss, this time your hand finding a way to his nether regions. You dipped your hands into his pants and into his underwear to stroke his length. He stopped focusing on the kiss for a few seconds and rutted into your hand.

“Jae, please fuck me while my mind is clear.”

He quickly removed everything from the waist down and now you both lay naked on the couch. He tapped his dick on your clit and rubbed it through your folds a few times to get it wet. He eased into you and cursed under his breath. It’s been so long that you forgot just how big he was, stretching you to new lengths but it felt so good.

“Fuck, you’re so big.”

“Did you forget already?” he laughed with his brows furrowed as he concentrated on not cumming too quickly. “Fuck you’re so fucking wet.”

You grabbed onto his biceps as he got balls deep, feeling so stretched and full. You moaned when he started thrusting into you slowly, bucking your hips to match his speed. He grabbed onto your waist and sped up his pace, skin slapping against each other.

“Fuck Daddy that feels so good~” you tried to stop your eyes from rolling back from the pleasure.

“Shit, if you call me that again I might get too rough.”

You looked up at him through hooded lids, his lip caught between teeth as he tried to keep it together. But you didn’t want that, you wanted him to fuck you into an empty headspace. You wanted to forget everything he’s ever done wrong and trust him as he is now.

“Fuck me harder Daddy, don’t hold back.” You wrapped your legs around his waist and you could see the switch in his eyes.

He pulled out of you and flipped you over with ease. Now you laid in a “face down ass up” position ready to take whatever he gave you. He rubbed his hands up and down your body, grinding his dick against your folds.

“Gosh I missed this pussy so much…” He lined himself up and slammed back in making you gasp.

This angle and the speed he chose truly did make you feel like he was fucking your thoughts away. By this time you were basically screaming, not able to make full sentences. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you up as he bent down and whispered in your ear.

“Not too loud, you don’t want Mia to wake up and hear how much of a slut you are.” He tugged on your hair harder and thrust into you harder, your moans getting louder. He landed a slap on your ass and covered your mouth with the other.

“Fuck Jae! I’m gonna cum!” You tried moving your body forward to give yourself some time to breathe, your heart pumping like you were on a treadmill.

The hand over your mouth slid down and wrapped around your throat and he was back at your ear.

“Stop running and take this dick. Let Daddy fuck the stress out of you.” He reached down with his other hand and rubbed harsh circles on your clit. He felt your walls squeeze around his girth and he knew you were close and he wasn’t too far himself. “Cum for me baby, I know you want to.”

“Oh god Jae! It feels so fucking good~”

Your toes were curling, your walls were clenching and your vision was dimming. Your orgasm was approaching quickly and you knew it would be mind blowing. His thrusts were getting sloppier so you knew the way your pussy sucked him in had his head spinning.

“Fuck, where you want my cum baby?”

“Inside Jae, please!” You knew you hadn’t been on birth control in a while but something in you made you feel safe enough to choose the most dangerous answer.

He loved fucking you raw, but getting to also cum inside did something to him. Telling him that seemed to power his thrusts, they were now like he wanted to split you in half.

“Missed Daddy so much you want him to fuck another baby in you?” His hips were starting to stutter, you felt way too good around him. “Fuck, please cum with me, cum all over me baby. God you feel so good around my dick.”

His hand moved from your clit to go up and squeeze your nipple while he bit down on you shoulder. The mixed pain and pleasure pushed you to your orgasm and you squeezing around him pushed him to his, both screaming out each other’s name. He pulled out and watched his cum drip out of you, the sight alone could make him hard again.

Him inching out of you was just as euphoric but your body had no strength to keep itself up for another round. You laid there evening out your breaths with a smile spread across your face. You heard him shuffling around behind you and eventually he came back with a warm towel to clean you up.

He placed gentle kisses down your spine and rubbed where he left a handprint on your ass. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

“You were rough, but you know that’s how I like it.” You chuckled and built up enough strength to sit up and look at him. He looked amazing all fucked out and sweaty, you wanted to pounce on him again. “Thank you for helping to ease my mind.”

“I want to do that for you more often, I wanna be your man again Y/N. I’m sorry for everything I said and did to you to make you feel like I didn’t love you anymore. I love you so much and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.”

You quickly wiped the tears that threatened to fall and looked away from him. He pulled you into a hug and rubbed your head and back. You wrapped your arms around him and fully embraced the hug. There was no holding back now, you accepted him and was ready to give him another chance.

“Don’t go, stay with me tonight.”

“Of course baby, I’m never leaving you again.”

Over the next few months, Jaehyun frequented your home, whether it was to run errands with you, drop Mia off from school or just to spend time with the both of you. There were days you also spent nights at his place. The sex was also constant. No matter where or when, he would have you bent over or pinned up against something as he slammed into you.

You loved every second of it, having him by your side on the daily again. He often brought you and Mia around his job to meet his coworkers whenever they had events, even making friends with one of the other families who had kids around Mia’s age. He showed you off like an art piece, one that only he possessed. You were his to keep and everyone else barely had the privilege to look.

“Hey baby mama, so the office is having a party to celebrate the collab of our international partnership and I want you to come with me.” He stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, peppering kisses on your neck as you stood making your cup of tea.

“Haha ew Jae do not call me that. Of course I’ll go baby, when is it?” You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

He sighed happily. “I will never get tired of your kisses babygirl. It’s next week and it starts at 8 and I know you’re worried about a babysitter for Mia, but Tracy said she could watch her because she didn’t want to go.”

It didn’t hurt to let her watch Mia, this would be the first time you and Jae did something together without her. You thought about it for a few seconds more then nodded your head. He smiled brightly and kissed you again.

The venue was classy and you understood why Jaehyun told you to get so dressed up. You didn’t have anything to wear so he took you shopping the day before to get everything you needed. With him by your side, you felt like a billionaire. You wore a long black draped collar dress that was made with a sparkly fabric, a slit going up your right leg.

Jae loved it on you, bending you over in it when he came to see it on you in the dressing room. Speaking of him, he wore a plain black suit with a matching tie and white button down. He looked good and with the way his hand kept rubbing your ass, you knew he’d take you somewhere later to fuck you.

Everyone commented on how great you two looked as a couple as you walked to your table. The event wasn’t very long so there were only standing tables with drinks and small hors d’oeuvres. His boss stood in the middle of the large open space and tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention.

“First and foremost I’d like to thank everyone for coming. Today we celebrate the long awaited partnership with Korea in order to expand our company. It is thanks to all of you that we were able to achieve such a wonderful thing and hopefully we continue to grow.” He turns to look in the direction of you and Jaehyun. “We have also gathered here today for something else special, so if you would all please turn your attention this way.”

You were confused and when you went to turn and ask Jaehyun what was going on, you looked down and saw him on one knee. Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth with your hands. You blinked back as many tears as you could while he spoke.

“Babygirl, I know we’ve gone through some rough times, you more than me, but I’m going to continue to keep my promise to you and Mia for as long as I live. You are my sunshine, my rock, my everything and I love you so much. You are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, not as your boyfriend but as your husband. Y/N will you marry me?”

There was no fighting off the tears this time and you nodded your head as you continued to say yes. The whole room filled with cheers as he placed the ring on your finger and stood up to pull you into a kiss. You hugged him tight and his hand rested on the small of your back.

“Yay mommy and daddy are going to get married!”

Shocked, you turn around and see Mia all dressed up. You look up and see Tracy waving at you from the other side and you wave back. Jaehyun picks Mia up and holds her between the both of you.

“See, daddy told you he would love mommy forever.”

#nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun

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