#please feel free to fall into my inbox

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Can you tell us about flow laying? Like what are some of the cards used and what do they mean, how it's decided there should do one and who should be invited to it?

Do I have more info about flow laying? Oh boy, do I have more info about flow laying. (I have hand drawn charts!)

(This will be all over the place and very long, but please, bear with me.)

First off, the name. Why is it called flow laying? Well, because the cards literally read the flow of power travelling through the world. That way they can give information about the past and present, while they can only make guesses about the future. (Though most of the time they're very good guesses.)

Each card represents a person, a being, a concept, or a seat of power. Like the Black Ships represent the concept of unsuspecting danger drawing closer.

To your last question: In the case of The Games We Play, Rhea - as the owner of the cards - made the decision to lay them. (The reason was the too long and too cold winter) There's a preliminary reading upon which Rhea decides which people need to be present. It's an art form to read the cards and interpret who represents who and who to invite.

There are three big categories the cards fall into:

Active cards, sleeping cards and dead cards.

Active cards are depicting those beings/people/concepts which are actively part of what you want to know. Sleeping cards depict those who don't/can't actively play a part, but are still a factor to be considered. And dead cards are remnants that are still important, but are quite literally dead.

The next biggest categories are the domains in which the cards take their places. There are two of them. The Greater Domains and the Lesser Domains. Which Domain (group of cards) falls into which is dependent on infulence and power, so there's a certain amount of fluidity. Though it is considered a Big Deal when a Domain changes place.

Under the Greater Domains fall The Hunt, The Astrals, The Night, The Day and The Wilds. The Lesser Domains contain The Fire, The Black and the Royal Domain. There's also a group of neutral cards that don't owe their allegiance to one Domain or another, so they make a group of their own.

How many cards there are exactly constantly changes and depends on what the person/people laying the cards want to know. (The Greater Domain of The Astrals is the most stable at 30 cards. The six Astrals and the 24 messengers.)

The Domains of The Hunt and The Wilds represent those belonging to the Wooden Throne, which represents Galahd. The card Wooden Throne itself is considered neutral, since it doesn't belong to one Domain or another.

The Astrals are pretty self explanatory, I think.

The Night and The Day represent the Sister Goddesses and their servants. (Etro, for example, it the Queen of The Night. She is a sleeping card, because she cannot actively intervene in anything going on. Eos is the Queen of The Day. She is a dead card for obvious reasons.)

The Black is the starscourge with Ardyn as the Herold. He switches from a sleeping card to an active one, and it makes people in the kow very nervous.

The Royal Domain represents the roayal houses of Lucis and Tenebrae. The King is the king of Lucis, the Queen the queen of Tenebrae. There's also cards called the Shield (Amicitia), and the General (currently Cor).

The Fire is an interesting one because no one is quite sure what that one is about. It slowly cropped up over the span of decades and is mostly made up of sleeping cards with the odd active one.

Neutral cards other than the Black Ships and the Wooden Throne would be the Gates (Death) and the Chained Heart (the Crystal/Light/healing).

[xazse]

hiii pookie I LOVED your hybrid post like it got me foaming from the mouth ngl 🫶 you're so talented!!

If you're into it, can we get cowhybrid! reader and Farmer!Gojo specifically please and thank you? I need to see the reader all needy and desperate and Gojo being the only one who can truly give her release and and what she truly needs (feel free to remix or add anyone/anything that you please)

If you're not into it, please ignore this ask instead of refusing because I get embarrassed hihi🎀🫶 anyways mwah mwah love u take care pookie

ANOTHER TRY?

Notes: THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED MY WORK!!! and to the second ask I’m very happy you requested that bull!hybrid work lLOVEDDD WORKING ON IT!! You guys are so creative I need to eat ur brain!!! THIS IS FOR ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR A PT2 I SEE YOU GUYS!!! (IF UR READING THIS TO MY OTHER INBOX OFC YOU CAN BE 🪬 ANON!!)

Pairings: CowHybrid!Reader x Farmer!Gojo

Warnings: Lactation + big!boobedReader + implied chubby!reader + nipplesucking + grinding + mean!Satoru + pussy!slapping + teasing.

Gojo has spoiled you for far too long it makes his blood boil and temples wrinkle when you continue to go see Toji and Suguru, it becomes a habit for you to come back in the early mornings after having a night of “fun.”

Confronting said men proved to be so fucking useless, they just laughed in his face when he said he’d kick both of them to the curb should they continue to corrupt you.

“You need us Satoru, why are you allowed to have your nightly routines but she cant? It was gonna happen eventually.” Tojis face was decorated with a fat sneer, all those times he tried to make sure you stayed as far as possible were all for naught, it’s hilarious seeing him seething behind a cool facade.

“Never knew what Toji seen in the woman but now I completely understand his point.” Suguru yelled from where he was transporting some wood.

Talking to them proved to be useless, as a little payback he made them clean the shed from top to bottom.

Trudging back to the main house in his thick boots Satoru comes to face you relaxing on the couch without a damn care in the world.

Why is he trying to get them to be on his level when he should be punishing you, you’re the one who didn’t listen, you’re the one sneaking out every night. He doesn’t know why he feels this hold on you, you’re such a beautiful girl that he can’t help but keep you in this small bubble.

When your eyes land on him you don’t say any kind of greeting, simply ignoring his presence for the movie on the huge ass tv he bought for you and eating the expensive food he bought for you.

You look extremely good right now, your fat boobs not swollen, but your pretty lips are. Satoru won’t say it but his pants tighten at the thought of what they do to you.

He needs you right now, he’ll make it up to you as much as he can.

He approaches you calmly and collected, sitting down at the edge of the couch where your legs are propped up, you still don’t acknowledge him. His trained hands start circling on your soft supple skin, you surprisingly don’t push him away. You give Satoru an inch he’ll take a mile.

He starts groping your thighs, the pudgy things hold within the creases of his hand. He pushes your thighs apart and gets a good look at your panties: you always choose to walk around the house like this.

They’re extra tight the way they emphasize your fat pussy, the groan that slips from his lips aren’t-something he tries to hold back, he needs you to know how much he wants you, especially wants you all to himself.

The rise and fall of your chest makes you look so cute, why are you so shy all of a sudden? You’re averting your eyes as well.

Satoru starts teasing your clothed folds, dragging his thick finger up and down, he pushes extra hard on your clit eliciting a small moan from you. He continues this for a little, he needs you wet to take him properly.

He peels off your soddened panties and positions himself above you, finally face to face with you. Your boobs are the first thing he attacks, pulling on your shirt and letting them spill out, the little droplets of milk call to him. He’s grabbing one and putting it into his mouth: he loves your taste so sweet like honey as it cascades down his throat so smoothly.

“Nghm… Toru..” finally you’ve decided to grace him with your sultry voice.

He bites down a little on your nipple making you jump away. He reels you right back in and sucks even harsher, there’s barely any milk left but he’s going to make sure he gets his full.

“Toru.” You call his name so panicked and yet you’re grinding against his fully hard cock. He’s so desperate in the moment that he unbuckles his belt and lets his cock bob free.

His fat tip prods agaisnt your folds, messing with your sticky wetness, he smears it on his tip even grinding down on your clit, but he doesn’t put it in, you don’t deserve that.

He teases you, pretending he’s going to give you what you want just to take it all away.

“Please…” a harsh and loud smack is delivered straight to your clit, you yelp and buckle your legs closed.

“Shirt, take your shirt off.” He commands, of course you’re gonna listen, Satoru has never taken that tone with you.

Your boobs now freely spill for him to gaze at. He spreads your legs back open.

“I’m gonna give you ten slaps, close your legs for even one I’m restarting. Understood?” You nod and your ears move along with it. He likes this look on your face: confusion, arousal and a little bit of fear.

On the first slap you make the mistake of shutting your legs closed: completely an accident but he’s having none of it, he hits your little clit again and again.

“Ahn..” you’re still so fucking wet by the sixth slap, creating a nasty mess that drips to your ass. Gojo’s cock is still throbbing, he jerks himself off, smearing his pre all over.

By the tenth slap you’re gone, completely dazed and only able to whine outloud, he decides that you’ve had enough with the tears that sit on your eye line. He pushes your legs back and lines his weeping tip. The feeling of sliding into your sopping wet cunt is better than any pussy he’s ever had.

His strokes against you are fast even though he should be letting you adjust, the sounds of skin against skin meeting each other is downright lewd.

He tells you to rub your nipples, it adds so much more stimulation that you can’t find it in you to hate it.

His cock drags agaisnt your walls over and over, till you can’t feel anything but the sensitivity of your nipples and the twitching of his fat cock.

He fucks you like that all night, even when you’re meant to meet Toji and Suguru, you can’t stop creaming around farmer Gojos length and nor do you want to.

[caitified]

Hi can you please try to do Paige x reader wife. Where in they both want to have kids so they do IVF and after a year of trying reader is finally pregnant and Paige is so thrilled. Also, can it please be like first trim, second trim, and last trim until she gives birth? I hope you try this one out please. Thank you so much! And I just want to say how I love your witting!🩷

beginning

paige bueckers x reader

warnings:none, this will be the start of my new paige family series! feel free to drop ideas in my inbox. hope this is ok for you, i can into more detail if you’d like!

the first time you see the positive pregnancy test, you don’t believe it. after months of negative results, doctors�� appointments, and so many nights spent comforting each other when it felt like nothing was working, it doesn’t feel real.

but it is.

you call paige into the bathroom, your hands trembling as you hold the stick. “paige,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

she looks at you, confused for a second, before her eyes fall on the test. when she sees the two pink lines, her face lights up like you’ve never seen before.

“oh my god,” she breathes, taking the test from your hands and staring at it, her lips curving into a shaky smile.

“it’s happening,” you whisper, tears spilling down your cheeks.

paige pulls you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. “we’re having a baby,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

the first trimester is a mix of excitement and nerves. paige is constantly hovering, making sure you’re eating enough, resting enough, and not lifting anything heavier than a pillow.

“babe, i can carry the groceries,” you laugh one afternoon as she insists on hauling every single bag into the house.

“not a chance,” she replies, grinning. “our baby’s in there, and i’m not taking any risks.”

she spends hours reading parenting books, bookmarking baby names on her phone, and talking to your growing belly even when it’s too early for the baby to hear.

“hi, little one,” she whispers one night, her hand resting gently on your stomach as you lie in bed. “it’s me, your mama. i can’t wait to meet you.”

you can’t help but fall more in love with her every day.

by the second trimester, your bump has started to show, and paige is obsessed.

“look at you,” she says one morning, her hands gently cupping your belly as you get dressed. “you’re glowing.”

“i’m sweating,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but her grin is contagious.

she goes with you to every doctor’s appointment, holding your hand during the ultrasounds and tearing up when you hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

“that’s our baby,” she whispers, her voice full of wonder.

she also becomes extremely protective. when a random person at the grocery store tries to touch your belly, paige steps in with a polite but firm, “please don’t.”

“you’re like a guard dog,” you tease later, and she shrugs, unapologetic.

“i’m just taking care of my girls,” she says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

the third trimester is harder. your back aches, your feet are swollen, and you’re more exhausted than ever. but paige is there for you through it all, rubbing your feet at night, running out to get your weird cravings, and reminding you how beautiful you are even when you don’t feel like it.

“you’re amazing,” she says one night as she helps you settle into bed, her hand resting on your belly. “i don’t know how you’re doing this.”

“because i have you,” you reply, your heart swelling as she leans down to kiss you softly.

she’s the one who sets up the nursery, carefully assembling the crib and decorating the walls with soft colors and tiny basketball decals.

“our kid’s going to be a baller,” she says proudly, and you laugh, knowing she’s probably right.

when the contractions finally start, paige is a mix of nerves and excitement. she holds your hand the entire time, whispering words of encouragement and brushing your hair out of your face.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” she murmurs, her voice steady even though you can see the tears in her eyes. “i’m so proud of you.”

and when your baby is finally born—a tiny, perfect girl—paige is the first to hold her, her hands trembling as she cradles your daughter against her chest.

“she’s perfect,” paige whispers, tears streaming down her face as she looks at you. “thank you. thank you for her.”

you smile, exhausted but so full of love, watching as paige presses a gentle kiss to your daughter’s forehead.

“we did it,” you say softly, and paige nods, her eyes never leaving your baby.

“yeah,” she whispers, her voice full of awe. “we did.”

[ramp-it-up]

Boss

Next part: Bossed

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. Here it is. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, a tinge of lonliness, no work/life balance, jerk Henry, slightly insecure, but smart reader. Jealous Henry, references to male masturbation, wild thoughts on both of your parts, references to oral sex (f receiving), whoo boy, the kiss. And the challenge.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You never meant for this to happen.

You were just practicing self care in the season of love. 

The flowers weren’t for anyone but you, a way to remind yourself that you were worth it, even if no one else thought that. 

You knew the office would be flooded with bouquets today, desks overflowing with flowers, cards, and candies. It was the one happenstance of your first whirlwind month on the job that stuck with you.

You vowed that your desk wouldn’t be empty this year, and no one would look at you with pity while asking you what you were doing that night. 

So you sent flowers to yourself. 

They were nothing dramatic, just some pretty little pink peonies and roses with a card that you’d written to yourself.

But Henry, your boss, your gruff, frustrating, inspiring, six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dark haired, storm-eyed asshole of a boss, apparently, didn’t see it that way. 

—--

You’d worked for Henry for a little over 14 months, and there had been a tension between you since your interview when he just sat there and stared at you as if you were some alien sent from a distant world. 

Despite that, he grilled you about your personal vision, told you he admired your qualifications and you were hired. 

What ensued was a year of hard, but gratifying work with a company that valued diversity and helping the planet. Henry Cavil was the CEO of that company, and as his assistant, you weren’t just a glorified secretary. 

You were right-hand to changing the world.

Henry seemed to care for nothing but work, and was professional to the point of extreme with you, even when you two worked late and long hours side by side.

Holidays were unimportant to him, weekends were just another day, and he didn’t seem to notice that you might feel differently.

You didn’t, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

It would have been nice if he noticed you as a human, if he asked about your family, what you liked to do in your free time....Whatever that was. 

And sometimes, you looked up to see him looking at you as if he were going to ask about one of those things, but in each instance, he just looked back down to what he was working on, continuing with the discussion at hand. 

You let it slide, because being by his side was all that you wanted. Even if he just tolerated you. 

Because you were in love with him. Since the moment before he offered you the job at the end of your interview. 

You could help millions of people around the world, but you couldn’t help yourself from falling in love with Henry, a man at least ten years your senior who was emotionally unavailable.

You were a sad case.

Your boss was your secret obsession, the man who’d starred in your most delicious fantasies for far too long. 

But Henry would never take a second look at you romantically. 

You were doll-sized next to him, you’re too nerdy, too curvy, and too headstrong to be the kind of compliant arm candy that you heard he went for. You were destined to pine for your boss with the superhero looks, destined to be the sidekick in the romance of his life.

—---

Henry had been in torment for 14 months 12 days, and 7 hours, the moment you walked into his office for your interview. And he’d been in love with you for 14 months, 12 days, 6 hours and 45 minutes.

But he vowed that you should never know how he felt while sentencing himself to the daily torture of working side by side with you every day.

He tried to put you out of his head, but his favorite thing was to send you ahead of him to meetings and to fall in behind you on the long walk to the boardroom, your sumptuous ass giving him lots of spank bank material. 

Every night he went home to shower, fuck his hand, and paint the tiled wall with copious amounts of spend as he thought of the way you looked that day and your adorable little quirks: 

The faint smiles you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

How you nibbled on that fucking sexy bottom lip when you were deep in thought and gazing at him, or hunched over your laptop and typing away. 

The way that you walked, those tempting curves of yours that made him ache to throw you over his shoulder and have his way with you.

Henry had ordered you the finest oak desk that he could find during your first week on the job. The glass one in the office was fine, but would be a bit flimsy in the off chance that he should throw you over it and eat you out until his jaw was sore and until your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name.

You’d been the fire in his blood for the entire time he’d known you, and he couldn’t help himself from being irretrievably under your spell.

But instead of telling you that, for the last 14 months, he'd settled for every minute that he could wring from you for work, because there could never be anything more than that.

—---

This evening, Henry had stopped in your office doorway with menus for dinner, when he saw the flowers and crossed his arms over his huge chest.

Your eyes slid down his form, noticing how the sleeves of his crisp white button down strained around his biceps, the vest he was wearing highlighted the thick inverted triangle of his body, and his dark slacks hugged his muscular thighs. 

It should be illegal for him to look that fucking good, especially at this hour in the evening, on this night of love. You looked up at him, at his dark eyebrows drawn together over those piercing blue eyes, looking at the bouquet like it personally insulted him. 

Then he looked at you.

There was heat in his gaze, something that made your toes curl in your heels, and for a moment you were frozen. Damn, he was hot, especially when he was perturbed. 

"Who sent them?"

His deep voice was low and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to his sexy ass British accent. Goosebumps raised on your skin.

You were caught between confusion and a being flustered from direct attention from him. He usually avoided eye contact and more than a few grunts at a time, so this was new.

Henry was always intimidating, but tonight, he was also extra attractive, with his tie loosened, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark curls slightly messy as if he'd been running his hands through it.

Oh, and it didn’t help that his jaw was clenching and his blue eyes seemed to be burning.

"Excuse me?" you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. 

You were tired, but there was a deadline to meet, despite the fact that this was a night for lovers. 

You two were the perfect pair to still be at work, because you were the furthest thing from romantics. You and Henry were workaholics, dedicated to your job, with no time for love.

Henry’s gaze flicked to the small card nestled between the flowers. 

You knew exactly what it said.

You are desirable. You are unforgettable. You deserve to be loved the way you love others.

A self-affirmation just for you. Something no one else was supposed to see.

But when Henry read it, he mistook the meaning.

"So who is he?"

His look was dark and his eyes were stormy, causing your stomach to drop.

"What?"

Henry’s fists clenched at his sides. 

"The person who sent these. The one who wrote you that." 

His voice dropped lower, like he was trying to hold back something. 

"Who. Is. He?"

You realized that he thought you had someone. And he sounded jealous. But that would be…

No. It was impossible. 

Your pulse became erratic with the thought

Henry was always particular: demanding, impatient, exacting. But he was also never unfair and never once let you fail. He always pushed you to be better and gave you glowing performance reviews, even when his actions conveyed that you were the most frustrating person on the planet to him.

You always assumed that he just tolerated you. That you annoyed him. But at the moment, he looked like a man barely holding himself together because he thought someone else had sent you flowers.

This was a development.

Before you could respond, Henry stepped closer to you. You tilted your head back to gaze up at him towering over you, broad and built like a damn brick wall. One that you wanted and needed to climb. 

"You didn’t answer me," he murmured, voice rough. Boy, those eyes could chill you to the bone.

"Why do you care?"

You were perturbed now, and it was clear in your response. 

Henry’s jaw ticked and something flashed in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to analyze.

“Careful, Little One.”

He’d never called you that, so you cocked your head with curiosity and watched as he sat on the edge of your desk, hiking his pants up on his legs, showcasing his massive thighs, and yes, the long, thick rod between them. 

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes went wide, too surprised at his words and actions to pull the well-practiced mask over your features.

Henry caught you looking, but you didn’t catch the way his mouth hooked up in a half smile at your reaction. 

You licked your lips and watched as his hand moved slowly upward, until he was brushing his fingers over the petals of one of the roses. The act felt intimate, like he was imagining something else beneath his fingertips. 

Or maybe you were the one imagining.

“You deserve to be loved the way you love others," he repeated, more softly. 

He gazed at you, eyes blazing. 

"And you think this guy, whoever he is, can give you that?"

Your throat went dry. You should’ve just told him the truth. But you didn’t.

Because you knew he was jealous. And he was about to lose it. And you wanted to see what happened when he did. 

You chucked your chin up at him, a challenge.

"And what if he can?"

Henry knew he was pathetic because you were his employee, and he had no claim to you, no right to feel possessive at the thought of you with another man. 

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track down the mutherfucker that sent you those flowers and beat him to a bloody pulp. And that didn't stop him from wanting to grab you and kiss you until you realized that you were fucking his. 

That you’d always been his, from the moment you first looked him in the eye.

The air between you crackled with energy as his entire body tensed as he stood up again, those massive hands curling into fists like he was restraining himself from something. His jaw flexed, his breath deepened, and he reached out for you, hand on your waist, drawing you in to press you against his very solid body. 

And then Henry’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding and so fucking perfect that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

You grunted in surprise as his full lips pressed on yours and his delicious tongue slid inside your mouth. All of your senses came alive in a cacophony of sight, taste, smell, and sound. And of course, touch.

You let yourself melt into his kiss, reaching up and tugging at the soft curls rioting over his collar, and then he pulled back, panting. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from your lips with his thumb, which he then inserted into his mouth and kept eye contact with you as he suckled his digit.

You imagined those lips doing the same to various points on your body and you nearly swooned, especially when he pulled his thumb out with a plop and then released you. 

Henry stepped back, baring his teeth in a dangerous smile. 

Your mind was scrambled, but you knew one thing for certain: Henry was attracted to you. Just as much as you were attracted to him.

Who would have thunk?

Henry adjusted his cuffs, highlighting those distracting veins on the back of his hands. He nodded at the flowers, then at you, a dangerous smile on his lips.

"Hope he’s ready to compete," he murmured, leaving you stunned.

“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

And then he walked back into his office, leaving you staring after him, heart slamming against your ribs, lips feeling swollen and bruised from the kiss.

You had no idea what those flowers just unleashed in him. 

But you were about to find out.

——-

Next part: Bossed

[freaktoru]

summary: sung jinwoo x fem!reader -you fly to the international guild conference with your rich s-rank hunter boyfriend, sung jinwoo in a private jet. wc; 2k+ warnings: minor manhwa spoilers, smut, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, creampie, fingering, pnv, pwp, female bodied reader, not proofread lol authors note: hi! this is my first fic. please enjoy, and please feel free to send any ideas into my inbox, i'm happy to chat and excited to write more for jinwoo. [best viewed in dark mode]

since becoming an s-rank hunter and the guild master of the Ahjin guild, there was no doubt about the fact that your boyfriend, sung jinwoo, was in high demand. as expected, jinwoo was invited to attend this year’s international guild conference to represent south korea and of course, asked you to join him. this conference was important to jinwoo as it would host all of the strongest hunters in the world and discuss the rise in numbers of gates spawning globally. 

sung jinwoo had made a lot of money since becoming an s-rank hunter, you knew this very well and experienced it first hand with him constantly spoiling you with your favourite food, new clothes, expensive jewelry and your shared penthouse apartment in the heart of seoul. jinwoo was not one to make a statement with his money, but when it came to you, he had no limits. thats why jinwoo decided to take you with him on a private jet to fly to america for this years conference. and that’s exactly where you currently found yourself—miles high in the air with your s-rank hunter boyfriend. 

“thank you, that’ll be all for now” you heard jinwoo say to the only flight attendant on the plane. you walk out of the washroom, hearing the flight attendant’s footsteps fade as you return to your seat. the interior of the jet was a smooth ivory colour with black accents and clean leather seats. you sat down in your seat across from your boyfriend who was looking out the window with a bored expression on his face, listening to the low hum of the plane engine. 

“sung” you say softly, drawing his attention away from the window. 

“hm?” he replies, his eyes darting in your direction and his gaze falling on your face. 

“what’s on your mind?” you ask.

“nothing, just thinking about the conference” he replies in an indifferent tone, clearly caught up in his own thoughts.

“i’m sure it’ll be fine, you’re one of the strongest hunters in the world right now, if not the strongest, i’m sure you can handle whatever is going to happen” you reassure him, hoping to pull him out of whatever he was thinking about. this happened often—jinwoo got caught up in his own thoughts and strength, and found it hard to pull himself back to reality.

“you’re right” he mumbled quickly and after a brief moment of silence he added, “come here baby” while patting his thigh, indicating that he wanted you on his lap. his voice alone was enough to send what felt like a current of electricity through your body.

since the press would be waiting when you landed, jinwoo was dressed in his usual expensive black outfit with black trousers, polished black shoes, a fine black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an expensive black and silver watch on his left wrist. as an upper A rank hunter yourself, you were also dressed to impress, wearing a cream coloured blouse, a black pencil skirt with black heels to match and expensive jewelry purchased for you by none other than sung jinwoo himself.

you stood up from your seat and took a few steps over to where your boyfriend currently sat. as soon as you were within his reach, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his lap. you felt your cheeks heat as he looked up at you with half lidded eyes, a lustful expression painted on his face.

“sung..” the words died on your lips as jinwoo strengthened his grip on your waist with one hand and lifted the other to your cheek. 

“shhh baby, i want to spend these last few hours of the flight with just you before we get hounded by the press and the public” he explains in a slightly annoyed tone, lightly pulling at your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“m’kay” you reply, too busy to utter a full reply as you wrap your arms around jinwoo’s neck, entangling your fingers in his hair and pressing a soft, wet kiss on his lips. sung jinwoo rarely loses his composure, but when you’re sitting on his lap, looking like that and placing such an innocent, soft kiss on his lips, he simply cannot contain himself any longer.

he pulls you close instantly—as if on instinct, as close as he can get you while you’re already on his lap. he deepens the kiss, one hand glued to your waist and the other tangled playfully in your hair. you moan, feeling jinwoo harden underneath you. 

“jinwoo- ah” you gasp breathlessly, pulling away from the kiss as you feel him move his fingers under your pencil skirt to rub lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit. 

“look who’s already wet” he points out in a mocking tone all while ignoring your gasps and pleas. he pulls his hand away, unbuttoning your blouse and skillfully unclipping your bra with one hand, letting your breasts spill out into his ready hands. he grabs hold of one, squishing the soft skin of it while lowering his lips to your other nipple. you whimper at the feeling of his teeth grazing your nipple. you think to yourself that it must be the change in pressure from being miles high in the air because you feel so sensitive to his touch, almost feeling like your skin is melting under his hands. 

his fingers make their way back under your skirt while his mouth moves on to the other nipple, lightly biting and licking it, sending pulses of pleasure to your throbbing core. he moves his hands over your clit but this time, pushes aside your thong to coat his fingers in your slick. he slides in two of his slender fingers with ease and starts lazily pumping in and out of you. it feels so so good, his fingers knowingly hitting the exact spot to make you melt. jinwoo wears a seductive smirk on his face as he quickens his pace and watches you mutter incoherent words while gasping and moaning from the sheer pleasure of just his fingers. he pinches your nipple with his other hand and lowers his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive flesh. this feeling simply surpasses anything you’ve ever felt before, sending you into oblivion. you feel the flame inside you spread throughout your whole body as you release onto his fingers. 

“ah baby-” you gasp, your words cut off as jinwoo slowly pulls his cum coated fingers out of you, making you go limp from the orgasm. 

“clean up your mess kitten” he orders, tone bordering on serious. he brings his fingers up to your panting mouth, sliding them past your soft lips. you welcome his fingers, sucking your cum off of them and gazing at jinwoo suggestively as he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth. once clean, he removes his fingers from your mouth and inhales sharply when you move your hand over the bulge in his pants. “my turn” you coo, while unzipping his pants slowly, freeing his cock. 

jinwoo was pretty, everyone knew this— and his cock certainly did not deviate from that description. it wasn’t wide but it made up for that in its length. it looked almost elegant in your hands as you started running your fingers gently along his shaft, always noticing that one vein that ran down the side of it. you watched any remaining tension leave his body as he groaned and relaxed into the seat. you pumped his cock teasingly for a couple of minutes and momentarily lowered yourself onto your knees to lick the beads of precum off the head of his cock. this is where sung jinwoo’s composure completely snapped. 

“stop teasing” he grit out as he lifted you up from your knees and back onto his lap. the movement was fast, almost animalistic. with the way he manhandled you, you could tell that jinwoo was simmering with need, and could wait no longer to get himself inside of you. 

he gave you no warning as he slid himself inside you, practically impaling you on his cock. you whimpered at the sudden intrusion, gripping jinwoo's shoulders so hard that your knuckles were turning white. he gave you a minute to adjust and you felt the pleasure override the initial pain. even though this wasn’t your first time with jinwoo, his sheer length was still difficult to adjust to every time. 

“fuck you feel so good” he rasped as he slowly starting moving your hips up and down on his cock. you were convinced this bliss would never go away, even after countless times with jinwoo, it was still the most euphoric feeling you’ve ever felt. this would beat any drug, you were sure of it.

this went on for a couple more minutes, jinwoo quickening his pace and hitting that sweet spot again and again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“nnngh baby please” you moaned, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. you looked down at jinwoo, his head thrown back against the seat, his jet black hair tousled and messy with stray strands sticking to his sweat covered forehead. the scene was a pure depiction of lust. his half lidded eyes and the slight smirk he wore on his face was enough to make you absolutely melt. 

“please jinwoo, i’m going to cum” you uttered breathless, tears beading at the corners of your eyes, hoping that jinwoo was close. “not until i say so baby” he replied, just as breathless as you. this was a rule jinwoo had for you, he would never let you come alone and would make you wait until he was ready to cum with you. this always pushed you over the edge because it took him longer to get there, however the wait was always worth it. 

“aaah” you gasped, feeling your boyfriend tense underneath you, indicating that he was going to cum. “cum for me baby” he said, and you felt yourself snap free. you crashed your lips onto his to seal the moment and felt that warm flame spread through your body once again. you felt the tension erase from jinwoo’s body and before you knew it, you went limp in his arms. 

jinwoo stayed buried in your warmth for a couple of minutes as you both came down from your high. you placed your head in the crook of his neck and the two of you stayed there like that, panting and catching your breath. 

“you did so good f’me” he rasped, his voice sending a warm tingle down your spine. you moved your head to look up at him and gave him a quick smile before pressing a kiss to his lips. jinwoo finally pulled out and quickly cleaned you and himself up with some napkins he found nearby. 

he then placed you back in his lap so that your head was back in the crook of his neck and you were both facing the window looking out at the clouds, still miles away from your destination. he ran his fingers through your hair softly, placing warm kisses on your forehead occasionally. you enjoyed the view and being in his arms more than anything, and mentally prepared for the inevitable doom that you knew would soon descend over the earth.

“sung?” you murmured the question, slowly feeling yourself getting emotional. 

“hm?” he responded, looking down at the frown on your face with confusion. “what’s wrong?” he asked. 

“we’re going to be okay right?” you asked in a worried tone. jinwoo instantly picked up on your worry and understood your stress.  

“of course. i’ll make sure of it” he replied softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“i love you” you whispered, followed by a quick peck. when you pulled back, you saw your favourite sight: sung jinwoo’s most genuine smile, the one he only reserved for you. 

“i love you too” he replied and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. you felt yourself slowly drifting off into sleep, and heard the flight attendant come back out to inform jinwoo of the arrival time as you fell limp from sleep in his strong arms. 

no matter what, as long as you were with sung jinwoo, you knew that you would be okay.

© @blessedmisery 2025.

[kkentobox]

I’m not sure if you take requests but would love to see your take on some schlatt smut. Maybe in the vibe of the way you’ve been writing him - just super sweet and loving and reassuring, love your writing 💜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀i was made to love you! w/ jschlatt.

description: jonathan schlatt found a new reason to live when you stepped into his life, allow him to show you how much you truly mean to him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀tags: afab!reader, smut, established relationship, praising, munch schlatt! munch schlatt! breeding, no mention of condom use (always use protection pookies), soft passionate sex with schlatt.

author’s note: my first schlatt smut post! remember my inbox are open for ideas/requests, always feel free to send me something ^_^ mwah! do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

⠀⠀the bedroom walls echoed with the moans falling from your lips, the sounds only the man between your legs could make you do. schlatt had been eating you out for what felt like hours now, his hunger for you never ending. with both arms tucked underneath your thighs to stop you from running, his tongue continued to lick every drop of the juices your cunt was spilling.

⠀⠀“c’mon baby, you can give me one more, right?” he mumbled against your lips.

⠀⠀having been the chasing your third orgasm, he refused to stop until he was satisfied. the entire time schlatt had been rutting his hips into the mattress trying to relieve the ache in his boxers, having shot his cum in them when you came around his tongue the first time.

⠀⠀“fuck jay, i can’t— please, please, please” growing louder by the second with your climax arising, your hands were tangled deep into his hair as you began to move your hips against his lips. your entire body felt like it was floating as you came, your eyes having rolled back into your skull with his name sounding like a mantra.

⠀⠀with heavy pants coming from the both of you, jay gently kissed your inner thighs. rubbing your hips, trying to bring you back down from the rush you were currently feeling. “you did so good for me, doll. deep breaths, you’re okay.”

⠀⠀when he felt your shaky hands grab his and squeeze his palms, he took that as a green light to come up. his soft smile easing you into relaxing once more, leaning down to pepper your face with sweet kisses. “my pretty girl,” you knew he wasn’t done with you yet, feeling his hips slowly begin to buck into yours as he comfortably positioned himself in between your legs, “can’t get enough of you.”

⠀⠀“you take such good care of me, jay.” your hands reaching down to palm his erection through his boxers, feeling the girth of it in your palm making you hum in excitement. before you could get up to go further, “don’t worry about that, baby.” the man above you intertwined your fingers together before kissing the back of your hand.

⠀⠀schlatt was in those moods where all he wanted to do was please you, he wanted everything to be about you.

⠀⠀freeing himself from his boxers, his cock immediately slapping against his tummy. he didn’t hesitate to get you in the position he loves; missionary. his big hands wrapping your legs around his waist before he began to pump his cock, not being able to resist slapping the tip on your clit to watch you grow impatient. “don’t be a tease, jay.” you whined, craving the stretch he gives you.

⠀⠀“so impatient, toots.” he tsk’d softly, a teasing grin on his lips. “i need you, please?” pouting up at him as you leaned to wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him in close to whisper against his lips, “please? pretty please?” pecking kisses to his mouth to sweeten up your pleas.

⠀⠀“how could i say no to you?” he whispered, his eyes flickering between yours as he inserted himself into your slippery cunt.

⠀⠀the two of you moaning in unison into each other’s mouths at the feeling, you couldn’t help but dig your nails slightly into his bare skin causing him to groan. staying still inside you, his hands holding your body close to him; so close your chests were bound to become one. “jay, pl— please move.”

⠀⠀given the green light, schlatt thrusted his cock deeper into you, keeping a slow yet hard pace. your eyebrows furrowing as your lips fell into an ‘o’ shape, you couldn’t help the noises you were making when his hips were moving so sensually. “look at me baby— fuck, keep your eyes on me, sweetheart” his cock sliding out so slowly, just for his harsh thrust making your body slide up against the bedsheets.

⠀⠀his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck, stopping in between to quietly groan against the skin. with your moans spilling directly into his ear, the audible noise of how good he’s making you feel, he feels his cock twitch inside you. “you feel so good, jay — can feel you in my stomach” you panted. he swore everything about you made him more addicted, more sensitive to pleasure.

⠀⠀“i can keep you like this all day, i need to keep you like this all day.” jay always became more vocal whenever he was close. “you’d let me, right?” kissing his way back up to your lips, his passionate kiss making you dizzy. “only you, jay. you could do whatever you wanted to me.”

⠀⠀“you’re trouble, baby. fuck, i love you— love you so much.” his hands gripped your hips, your cunt squeezing him and sucking him back in for more.

⠀⠀your hands running across his shoulder blades, reaching to pull the hairs on the nape of his neck. “want you to cum inside me, jay, i need it.” your pussy fluttering at the thought. “i’ll give you all of it, don’t worry, doll.” he could feel the slick pooling underneath the two of you, your pussy leaving white rings around the base of his cock. “you’ll be a good girl and come with me, yeah?”

⠀⠀whimpering in agreement, your hips began to move against his to meet his thrusts making his forehead to meet yours, his eyes screwed shut as a low groan left him. “jesus, i’m gonna cum.” “give it to me, baby, come on.” your sweet words making him melt. your orgasms building up so quickly together, the two of you gripping onto each other. his dick painting your womb white as your pussy spasmed around him, your back arching into his chest causing him to hold you there tightly.

⠀⠀his face was buried in your chest, panting as he recovered from his climax. he didn’t want to remove himself from you, so he gently laid his all his weight on you. your frame being encased by his larger one, his weight comforting you from the aftershocks. his hand came up to brush the hair out of your face, before resting on your jaw. your limbs felt like jello, but you continued to run your fingers across his back.

⠀⠀the two of you remained in that position, comforting the other silently before he spoke, “let me get you some water, baby.” though you needed it, you softly whined as your grasp on him tightened. “stay like this with me . . just a couple more minutes?” his eyes finding yours and seeing how you truly didn’t want him to leave, “. . okay, baby. just five more minutes.”

⠀⠀he never had the heart to leave after five minutes, not after you fell asleep against him with the cutest pout. doing his best to clean you up without waking you up, he quickly found himself dozing off with you. the two of you entangled with each other, just as your hearts were.

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. 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: 12k

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

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking about an isekaied reader and a yandere noble boy...

(gn reader x male noble yandere)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

tw: yandere and manipulative behavior

about a week has passed since you collapsed. after reading the letters, your parents insisted that you should reply with a short note stating that you had recovered. eventually you caved, concerned about the contents of the letters this... guy sent you, but not enough that you felt particularly threatened.

less than a week later, an oliver northwood appeared unannounced near the gated entrance of your family's estate.

everyone was caught off guard, but he was let in regardless. your parents were the count and countess of the land you resided in, but he was the son of a marquis. this placed him at a higher rank then your family. plus, the both of you had been friends since childhood, so your parents caved even with the sudden intrusion.

after he entered, you find yourself sitting in awkward silence having an impromptu tea party with him in the estate's garden.

"so uh, it feels like its been so long since we've seen each other" he said.

"yes... it has" you replied

"are you feeling better?"

"yes i am..."

following this short interaction was about three minutes of silence. he had seemed so... energetic in his letters, but in person he appears much more reserved.

"um... you seem different"

you felt your chest start pounding. your thoughts start rushing while you try to keep your face neutral. it hasnt even been 10 minutes and hes already figured out who you actually were? is he going to expose me? no, that would make him look crazy...

as you started spiraling he spoke up again, "it almost feels like you are a different person" he pauses before continuing, "your parents said that you were having some trouble with your memory... do you... not... remember me?"

this snapped you out of your thoughts, he had figured out that you were, in fact, a different person, while giving you a potential way out.

"oh im so sorry... my memory has been spotty, i didnt want to be rude. honestly i couldnt even remember who i was when i woke up, hehe~" you mentally screamed at yourself because he did NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT!!!

your thoughts were interrupted by his response, "oh im... sorry, that sounds awful." you saw fragments of a sly smile and a darkness in his eyes for a split second. the shift in expression disappeared so quickly you thought that you had imagined it.

he continues, "do you want me to try to fill in the gaps?"

"please do..." you reply.

"hmm.. ill start from the beginning." his eyes shift to make direct eye contact you. while he appears with soft eyes and a small smile, something about his expression feels a little unsettling. "well for starters, we have been friends since we were little. my parents are the marquis and marquess of the land just west of here. they had known each other for a while and had children around the same time, so they introduced us!"

his smiled widened as he continued speaking, "although we were only friends as children, as we got older we ended up becoming lovers!!"

the look of shock on your face didn't seem to surprise him. you begun trying to string words together into a coherent sentence when he follows up his previous statement.

"although... no one knows right now, we were keeping it secret to... avoid drawing unnecessary attention." the last part was spoken quickly and softly, making him sound unsure.

he takes your hand, "please love, i know you may not remember, but i have no problem waiting for you to fall in love with me."

"or... fall in love with me again i mean, hehe~"

should there be a part three?

feel free to drop in my inbox to ask any questions about him!!

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 teaser

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it, so you ask your two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– Choi Soobin x fem!reader

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, uni romance, he falls first and harder, inexperienced!Soobin, and more

established wc– Like 20k maybe idek

established publish date– mid May

── .✦

There is a smile on your face as you hold up the paper proudly, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “I told you you’d do great,” Soobin smiles back, his eyes scanning the A- written in red on top of the paper. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the test in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the school hallways just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

“Let’s go. We’re going to be late for our next class,” he says instead, averting his eyes from you for the first time that day.

── .✦

↪ izzy adds... okay, time to bring back this big boy. God, this idea has been in my drafts for like 2 years and I'm so excited to finally write it and edit everything I've made for it those years back loll

if you wish to be tagged in the story, feel free to leave an ask here or in my inbox! The permanent taglist still applies for this though!

[emchante]

Divorced dad!Daniel + “Sighing softly at the shell of your ear so you can hear how much you affect them” -> imagine you’re the first person he’s with after a long time and he’s so vocal when you palm him through his boxers 🙏🏼

~🫠

sweet temptations | d. ricciardo

summary: daniel had been relieved from dad duties for the weekend, so he invited you over for dinner. not long after, you’re on top of him and helping him get off— something he hasn’t experienced in a while.

prompt: “sighing softly at the shell of your ear so you can hear how much you affect them” + divorced dad!daniel

warnings: 18+ content, post-divorce daniel, handjob through clothing, dirty talk.

w.c. 1.3k+

masterlist | requesting rules

a/n hello lovelies! divorced dad!daniel series finally has it’s first official blurb and i’m so happy with it. thank you to my wonderful anon for requesting, i loved writing this. please let me guys know what you think, i would love to hear your thoughts and would be honoured if anyone wanted to drop into my inbox so we can explore this series together <3

the night was cool, the streetlights of the neighborhood glowing dimly through the thin curtains of daniel’s living room. you could count how many times you had been round at his place on a single hand, as he often came to your house, whether that be with or without his kids.

this weekend he was free from dad duties, and he had invited you to his house for dinner. this.. thing you both had going on was still new. it was more than a casual fling, but nothing had been set in stone or defined as of yet.

that didn’t matter currently, not when you found yourselves entangled on his sofa, the fingers of your right hand tracing lines up his exposed chest.

daniel’s breathing was heavy, his rose-inked hand was firm on your waist, pulling you closer. your left hand trailed down his body, brushing over the hardness straining against his trousers. a shudder ripples through daniel’s body, a low groan erupting from him.

“god,” he breathes as his head falls back, sunken eyes dark and hooded as he gazes up at you, full of need. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

you smirk at his words, giving him another gentle squeeze. his response is immediate— a long-drawn moan, his hips shifting toward your touch, craving more. “i think i have a small idea,” you tease, winking as your thumb circles over his hardening cock.

you relish in the whimper that escapes him at the small movement, enjoying the jerking of his hips at any touch. your eyes trailed over him, taking in the sight in front of you. the older, handsome and —quite frankly— powerful man that everyone seemed to fawn over, was currently beneath you on his worn down sofa, cock straining as he moans for your touch.

you lean on your right hand, using it to ground yourself as you move closer to daniel’s face. you place a line of soft kisses from his chin, up his jaw and one final kiss on top of the freckle that resides under his ear, before moving your lips up.

“but still, tell me,” you whisper, biting on the bottom of his earlobe and gaining a soft gasp from him before continuing. “tell me what i do to you, daniel.”

a deep flush creeps over daniel’s cheeks, but he doesn’t shy away. instead, his right hand moves to your face, nudging it until you’re both eye-to-eye. his dark eyes were clouded with desire and need, staring deeply into you.

“every time you touch me, it’s like— i don’t know,” he stammers, voice quiet as he tries to gather his thoughts. “it’s been so long since someone made me feel like this. it’s like im re-experiencing everything all over again, like this is all new to me,” he explains, licking his lips as he stares at you, waiting.

you lean down and press your lips into his, capturing him in a slow kiss as you let your fingers work him slowly; palming him through the fabric of his trousers. his reaction was instant, another low, guttural moan erupting against your lips; and it sent heat pooling in your belly.

“god, you’re so sensitive,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back and pointing your head down to watch. you press your hand a little harder, and are rewarded with a twitch beneath your palm.

daniel nods quickly, head tilting to the side so his lips are against your ear. you bite your lip while he pants into your ear, swallowing thickly before sighing softly. “yeah, you— you have no idea,” he stammers, hips bucking up into your hand again desperately. “please.. don’t stop.”

your fingers found the button of his jeans, and another shaky breath escaped him. you tilt your head back up to look at him, and his eyes meet yours with a look was half-desperation, half-anticipation.

“is this okay?” you whisper, wanting to double-check he really was okay with this. despite his eagerness, you wanted to make sure.

any doubts you had were shut down in an instant as his hand grabbed your face, pulling you closer to capture your lips in a fervent kiss. “more than okay.”

your hand makes its way into daniel’s jeans, cupping his straining cock through his boxers. you give him another squeeze, enjoying the warmth in your hand now you were closer to his cock than before. the sound that escapes daniel can only be described as pure, unfiltered relief. “oh— oh my god,” he chokes out, his voice straining as he stretches his head back against the couch.

you could feel him pulsing beneath your hand, the heat building as you continued. you were drawing needy sounds from him that made your own heart race, desperate to hear more. the sight before you was one you wanted to memorize, so you kept your eyes trained on his body the entire time.

as you kept stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers, you bit your lip as you listened to the string of soft moans fall from his lips. his head was writhing from side to side, hips shaking and jerking almost uncontrollably as the pleasure started to truly overtake him.

he tried to get into somewhat of a rhythm, focusing on trying to grind his aching cock against the palm of your hand. another deep groan escaped him as his body started to tighten, and you knew he was nearing the edge.

you move your face closer to daniel’s again as your lips ghost his own, his eyes opening as he tries to keep them trained on you. you can tell that daniel wants you to lean in that inch closer, connect your lips and kiss him hungrily again.

but you don’t.

you keep your lips brushing his own as you continue to stroke him, eyes boring into his own. daniel gets bored of your little game fast, and leans forward to capture you in another kiss. he kisses you like his life depends on it, tongue grazing your bottom lip slowly before slipping it into your mouth. his hips continue to buck into your hand, thrusts becoming more hurried.

“come on, daniel,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back. you lick your lips before taking you bottom lip between your teeth, squeezing his aching cock and sighing. you move to his ear again, kissing just behind it before whispering to him. “let go for me.”

daniel’s body shuddered, his breath hitching as his whole body went rigid, and with a final strangled moan, he did as you said. you could feel the heat and dampness through the fabric as daniel finished, his head falling back against the couch while squeezing his eyes shut, riding out the waves of pleasure as small whimpers and groans escaped him.

you continued to cup him through his boxers, your thumb slowly rubbing against his softening dick through his boxers. when his breathing was starting to even out, his eyes opened slowly and he lifted his head to look at you. you slide your hand out from his unbothered jeans. you wink at him, licking the slight wetness off your thumb which causes a low groan to come from daniel.

daniel uses his hands to push himself up, back resting against the armchair before moving one of his hands onto your waist, and pulling you into him. you rest your forehead against his own, and daniel takes it upon himself to place a soft kiss onto your lips.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy the fic? come chat to me through my ask box, publicly or on anon! i’d love to talk to you and hear your thoughts about it <3

[menagerofmischief]

hi!! i have a big order i hope it’s not too much trouble :’)

could i get a charcuterie board (but maybe married instead of dating) with a cold appetizer? for the mains, i’d like lobster, gyros, sausage rolls, and sarma. and for drinks: white wine, fanta, coca cola, coke zero and a strawberry lemonade all served by sir lewis hamilton, please and thank you!!

my favourite track on the calendar is zandvoort because of the banked curves 😋

charcuterie board dating/married cold appetizer rough sex lobster "I love watching my cum leak out from your pussy" gyros "Gonna fill you up" sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" sarma "Gonna put a baby in you" white wine sir kink fanta size kink coca cola somnophillia coke zero free use strawberry lemonade breeding kink + sweet tea morning sex

lewis hamilton x wife!reader

cw: somno, waking up with sex, no plot just porn, seriously straight to smut no intro, oral sex f!receiving, PiV, unprotected sex, cumming inside, bit of breeding, aftercare implied not included

wc: 0.9k

a/n: back to diner orders because I have over a 100 in my inbox and they're fun. this is short, and probably shit, but I hope you enjoy.

You woke up with a gasp, mouth falling open as a moan slid past your lips, body jerking upwards as pleasure coiled in your belly.

“Fuck, ah, Lewis!” You moaned, fingers tightening around the edges of the blanket as you lifted it up, your eyes meeting his. Your husband looks up at you, his strong hands pushing apart your thighs, lips wrapped around your clit

You go to speak when he nips at your clit and then sucks immediately afterwards, like he’s trying to soothe you, and your head falls further back into the pillow, a gasp of pleasure slipping past your lips. 

You push your tongue out, running it over you lips as Lewis continues to eat you with more excitement that he’s ever shown any food. Finally you find your voice to speak. “Holy shit!” You breathe out, pushing the blanket completely aside and bringing one hand down to rest on his hair, careful of the braids. “Good morning, baby.”

He hummed in reply, sending vibrations straight into your core. “Good morning,” he said, pulling back a bit, a string of saliva still connecting him to your clit. He flashed you a smile before dipping his head back down and pushing his tongue inside of you, his thumb coming up to rub your clit. 

It’s not long after that your legs are shaking, still held down by his hands, and you can feel your gut tighten with every stroke of his thumb and tongue. “I’m gonna cum!” You whine, fingers grasping onto the bed sheets.

“If you wanna cum then go ahead and beg for it,” he orders, thrusting two fingers into you and stroking against your g-spot as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

He doesn’t really have to say anything more, you already know what he wants. And like rehearsed speech, pleas start falling from your lips as you beg for your approaching orgasm. “Oh sir!” You whine, your voice high pitched. “Please let me cum, sir. I wanna cum for you, please.”

“Cum,” he uttered, his voice muffled by his face being buried in your folds. That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you, tipping you over the edge.

Lewis pulls back, giving you a few moments to calm down before he’s pulling down his sleep shorts and briefs and crawling over you. He leans down to kiss you, lips pressing against your in a gentle show of affection and you can taste your arousal on him.

His cock slides through your folds, the tip nudging against your overworked clit, which has you whining as you grab onto his biceps. “Too big, Lew.” You whine, feeling his hardness pressing against you.

He chuckles his eyes meeting yours as he guides the tip of his leaking cock to your entrance, the mushroom head barely slipping in. “Don’t worry baby,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your forehead in a calming manner. “I’ll make it fit, yeah. I always make it fit.”

Lewis pushed himself inside inch by inch until his hips were flush with yours. After all this time, taking him fully was still a stretch. One you would welcome with open arms every time.

He started thrusting slowly, groaning leaving his mouth. “Fuck you feel so good, baby, so tight. Squeezing my dick so well.”

You nodded back at him, too overwhelmed with pleasure to properly speak and he started speeding up his actions. His thrusts holding a bit more power behind them now as he fucked you into the mattress, shaking the bed with each thrust and driving the headboard into the wall.

It wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm approaching, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your head back in pleasure. “Fuck, Lew, gonna cum. Cum with me please.” You begged, your nails digging into the skin of his back.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He teased, the rhythm of his hips not slowing down. “Go on, be a good girl and cum for me. Then I’m gonna fill you up.”

You moaned at his words, clenching around him as your second orgasm crashed over you, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you clawed at his back. Still, he kept thrusting.

“Yeah, you want that. Don’t worry, sweet girl, you’ll get my cum.” He groaned, his hips faltering as his dick twitched inside of you before you felt his cum spilling along your walls. “Gonna put a baby in you, you want that? Want to be all round and swollen with my child. You’d look so good, the prettiest mama.”

He pulled his now softening dick out of the warmth of your pussy, his cum spilling immediately now that his dick was no longer acting like a makeshift plug. He groaned at the sight, his fingers sliding down to collect the spilled cum and push it back into you, making you whine at the overstimulation he was providing. 

He hummed, bringing his coated fingers up to your lips. You wasted no time to lean forward and take his fingers into your mouth, licking them clean. “I love to watch my cum leak out from your pussy.” He told you, his words making you shiver in delight.

Lewis leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, his hands stroking the skin of your arms. “Let me pamper you a little, baby.” He asked, and you found yourself nodding back at him. It was a very good morning, indeed.

[g0niki]

camera's on: take two ── y.jw p.js

camera's on (pt.1) (read me first!!!)

pairing: bf!jungwon x afab!reader x classmate!jay

word count: 2.3k+

content: no protection (don't be like them.), oral (m&f receiving), mxm (no penetration, but more than kissing), exhibitionism, dom!jay, switch!won, sub!reader, jw and reader are no thoughts head empty, creampies, recording. lmk if i missed anything! minors dni.

a/n: i was feeling silly and i didn't proof read🤸. please share your thoughts with me in the comments, reblogs, or my inbox! I also won't be adding more to 'camera's on' (at least as of right now) but i will still write for jaywon and other duos!! going to try and write more about the other members 🤞

jungwon had been standing on the tip of his toes for the whole week, eager for the upcoming friday. 

won bit on the end of his pencil, uninterested in his lecture about the mayan empire and the legacy they left behind. his focus was completely locked in on the analog clock dangling above the exit. the hands ticking and taunting him with every passing second, the pencil sitting in between his teeth being bent up as he bit down harder and harder.

unfortunately, the first tape had been lost but luckily for him, jay was feeling generous enough to allow another session free of charge (as long as he would have a feature). 

he knew you would already be home getting ready, probably letting jay get comfortable and set up while he’s forced to miss out on even the smallest of interactions. 

the thought of you and jay getting started up without him almost being enough to make him leave his lecture early.. yet at the same time he wouldn’t mind.

god, he hopes that’s what the two of you are doing. 

and just before he could get lost in the thought, imagining jay’s name rolling off the tip of your tongue as he rushes down the hall of your shared apartment, his professor is dismissing the class.

【☆】★【☆】

jungwon fumbles with his keys, struggling to get the right one into the keyhole. his bag tugging down on his shoulder as he fumbles with the doorknob, forcing his way into the small apartment.

only to be welcomed by silence. 

he knew you were home, you hadn’t told him about a change of plans. he lets his bag fall onto the floor next to your couch, eyeing the two pairs of shoes next to the entrance, clearly indicating the presence of both you and jay. 

“baby? did you guys set up?” he calls out as he creeps towards the room, the only place you and jay could be.

his stomach turned, anticipating what was going on behind the closed door. he could hear jay’s hushed whispers, the conversation between you too being inaudible. 

jungwon opened the door to the very scene he was wishing for. you were sitting between jay’s legs, your own splayed open as the older boy spread your folds,  the camera pointing directly towards the two of you. 

“good girl, you held in your sounds til jungwon could make it home.” jay used his free hand to push back the sweaty strands of hair off of your face. 

your cheeks were flushed, your face scrunched up as you used all your might to try and not make a single sound. 

“she’s waiting on you won,” jungwon's jaw slightly dropped, admiring the sight of the two of you. your naked forms pressed up against each other and waiting for him.

“you can let it all out now pretty.” the moment you heard your boyfriend’s smooth voice you were throwing your head back against jay’s shoulder, a strained moan leaving your throat as your back slightly arched and you forced your pelvis further into jay’s hand.

jay hadn’t even put his fingers inside of you, only playing with your clit and tracing the outsides of your hole lightly. he wouldn’t go as far as penetrating you in any sort of way without your boyfriend around and he was glad he didn’t. the way you were dripping down onto his fingers and leaving his hand soaked was amusing to him. 

you were so easy to toy with, almost as if you had never been fucked. and that made him want to tease you even more.

“why don’t you come warm up too jungwon?” jay so easily picked you up, moving your body next to him and signaling won to him. “this week looks like it’s been hard to you, hasn’t it?”

jungwon dumbly nodded, walking over to stand in between jay’s open legs. 

“mm, both of you are too dumb to use your words today. maybe if i help you relax a bit you’ll start speaking up, yeah pretty boy?” 

jay’s hands found jungwon’s, the older boy standing up to now tower over him. moving the two of them around and giving jungwon his former place on the edge of the bed. 

you watched in awe as jay tugged down jungwon’s loose sweats. freeing his painfully hard and swollen member, letting it slap against his hoodie. 

won moaned at the feeling, his sensitive tip rubbing against the cotton material and leaving a dab of precum. 

“both of you are so needy, look at this.” jay lightly blew on jungwon’s tip, his cock jumping in response.

“please hyung.” won’s voice was whiney, and you clenched your legs together watching. your boyfriend’s needy response has you pouting, you hated seeing him not get taken care of.

“come on jay, he’s asking nicely.” you crawled up behind your boyfriend, sitting on your knees and placing light kisses and licks along your boyfriend’s neck. 

“oh, so you can speak?” jay laughed lightly, slapping jungwon’s thigh just to get a reaction. “lucky i’m feeling extra nice today.”

before the two of you could even process it, jay is wrapping his lips around jungwon’s cock. his tongue gently tracing the underside of his tip, won’s body shuddering in response.

jay didn’t bother to take any more of jungwon in his mouth, only paying the swollen end any attention. the both of you knew not to ask for more.

jay’s eyes looking up at the both of you. you were doing your best to feel included, marking up every open surface and leaving the prettiest purple marks on jungwon’s neck, but jay could see the subtle pout on your face. he knew you wanted to feel included. 

he slowly pulled off of jungwon’s tip, letting it rest against his bottom lip for a moment. the saliva serving as a gloss for his lips, jungwon’s member getting more excited by the moment, jumping as jungwon let every single groan and moan leave his throat.

“oh my fucking gosh hyung.” jay wasn’t even doing anything at the current moment yet won felt like he was about to spill all over the cameraman’s face. 

“hey pretty, go grab the camera for me.” your eyes immediately lit up at jay’s command, pushing yourself off the mattress and grabbing the device. “now hand it to jungwonnie and get down here with me.” 

won felt like he was going to faint. the image of you sitting on your knees next to jongseong sends his brain into overdrive. the evident size difference between you two, the rough and dark look jay had in comparison to your soft and head-empty appearance giving him whiplash. 

he watched as jay grabbed the back of your head and had you lean closer to jungwon’s stiff cock, forcefully placing you face-to-face with it.

jay places the tip of jungwon’s cock onto your lips, tapping it against the bottom of your mouth a couple of times, the both of them groaning at the sight.  

“i can’t take this anymore.” 

almost as if it were on cue, jay is leaning forward and sandwiching jungwon’s tip between the two of your lips. his tongue coming out to fight with yours and caress the sensitive end all at the same time.

jungwon’s hands gripped the camera. he could’ve sworn he was hearing colors at this point. 

the way you whined against him was driving him insane. the two tongues providing extra stimulation and the whole view being displayed on the camera’s monitor getting him even harder. 

he could see the tears pricking your eyes, how desperate you were to please him and keep up with jay. 

he felt bad looking at his pretty girl lack so much attention, so he did what any good boyfriend would do. 

he pushed his leg closer to your core, watching as you immediately used it to get yourself off. the material of his sweats rubbing against your clit and giving you the extra energy you needed to drool on his cock and start kissing down the base. 

won tangles his hand in the older’s hair, pulling the boy off of him and admiring his lustful eyes and sharp jaw. 

“what won?” he looked uninterested in what jungwon had to say, if it wasn't for the bulge firmly pressing against his pants jungwon would've almost thought he didn't want to be there.

“look at her. she’ll take anything right now.” won gave jay a fake pout, the two of them watching how you licked up and down won’s member, paying special attention to your favorite vein. 

jay quickly grabbed the camera from won’s hands and focused the lens on you. capturing your eyes pinched tightly together as your hips desperately rutted up and down. 

"holy shit..." won’s neck was thrown back, his member shooting out cum and decorating your cheeks and eyelashes. 

the two of them watch as you swipe the fluid off your face and scoop it into your mouth instead, locking eyes with the camera and giggling.

“camera’s going back up, get on the bed.” jay moves towards the tripod, setting up his camera once again, slightly zooming in and only keeping the bed within the frame. “look at you two, so desperate.”

the camera displays both you and won laying on your sides and sloppily making out. won’s hands clutch at your waist, pulling you closer and rubbing his cock against your clit. the repeated nudging of his head making you whine into his mouth and he can’t help but suck up every single noise you make.

jay lets his cock throb at the view, his head dripping beads of precum as he uses his pointer finger to lightly graze the end of his cock. 

“go on jungwonnie~ fuck her already.” 

you pull away for a moment, hands in his hair and admiring his glassy eyes. “I want it so bad, give it to me please~” you slide your hand between the two of your bodies,  lifting your leg and lining up his member with your entrance. 

jungwon’s hips jump forward on instinct. his dick pushing into you and feeling the warmth of your velvety walls, squeezing his eyes shut and rutting into you. the thrust are short, only pulling out maybe an inch or two before slamming his hips back into yours as he eagerly chases his release. 

“please, fuck- fuck i’m going to cum.” he buries his face into your chest, kissing the tops of your breast. his kisses become messier and messier, leaving marks behind as he speeds up the pace of his hips, his pelvis coming into contact with your clit every time he fucks up into you, ticking you closer and closer to your high . “i’m filling you up- fuck…”.

the warm thick liquid coating your inside, sending you over the edge. he pushes this face into your boobs more, biting down on the supple flesh. his teeth sinking in hard enough to have you squirming, possibly drawing a bit of blood. 

the both of you panting in silence for a moment before jay speaks up, startling the both of you. 

“let’s get our final scene, okay?” he gets in the bed behind you, grabbing your smaller frame and sliding you off of won’s sensitive cock. “gonna make you feel real good princess.” 

he lays flat on his back, pulling you on top of him and pressing your back on top of his chest. his dick now aligned with your cunt, the mixture of you and jungwon dripping down onto his thick shaft.

without warning he’s pushing you down onto his length, won’s cum helping ease the stretch.

“so fucking tight, no wonder he cums so quick.”  jay uses his hand to lightly apply pressure on your lower stomach, heightening the feeling of his dick.

won dumbly watches, his mouth slightly hanging open in awe at the sight. 

“won… need more~” you squeak out to him. you were so close to being gone, his pretty girl being so so good for jay. taking him so well and still wanting more. 

no one would ever be able to satisfy you the way he does. fucking jay, yet still needing him. 

and who was he to deny you?

jungwon crawled over and settled himself between the tangled mess of legs.

leaning down so closely to your stuffed cunt and blowing against it. your body jolting at the feeling, making his eyes light up and a light smirk settle on his lips.

“look at that pretty, the way you clench around him is so cute.” your back arches against jay’s chest. the older wrapping his arms around you to hold you still.

looking down you see won lean in and wrap his soft lips around your clit. suckling on it softly, giving you the last bit of pleasure you needed, but he doesn’t stop there. 

his tongue lolling out of his mouth and moving down to circle your cunt, bringing pleasure to both you and jay. 

jay’s thighs shake at the feeling, and jungwon likes that reaction. 

the younger boy moves down even further, taking jay’s balls into his mouth and sucking on them for a moment before pulling them out of his mouth with a pop. won sticks out his tongue and licks jay from his balls up to where he is inside of you. 

sliding his wet muscle into your cunt alongside jongseong’s cock, sliding against the sensitive vein. 

the feeling of won’s nose bumping against your bruised clit making you squirm and scream, tears welling up in your eyes as you babble out nonsensical begs and pleases as you cum. 

 jay adding more to the mess inside you with the final flick of jungwon’s tongue against his thick cock. 

jungwon sits back, watching the two of you grab onto each other and ride out your highs with a satisfied smile on his face.

“that was better than the take we lost.”

“oh yeah about that, i never lost the take.” you and won snapping your necks to look at jay. “what? i couldn’t pass up on another threesome with you two.” 

ᯓ★

@g0niki all rights reserved. do not translate or post my work anywhere without permission.

🏷️: @pansies-garden

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. abuse is depicted in this one right off the bat,ptsd/nightmares, panty sniffing, face sitting, over stim, biting, squirting, i think our wolf just hates us okay? because everytime i write her, she comes out so mean.

please click this link! each click helps me earn some extra money, as well as each person that clicks the link and signs up (its completely free, and takes 0 time), a completely harmless way to earn some extra cash that doesn't involve giving me any of your own!

happy new years :) feel free to send thots/ideas to my inbox for these babes (or even for the other 141 fellas)

series masterlist here.

PART THREE: hurts si’

“You dumb bitch, look what you did!” Glass clattered and a hand made contact with your face, causing something to drop from your hands as they flew to your face for protection, a whimper leaving your puckered lips as sharp shards scatter about the ground and imbed in the skin of your legs, stinging. “Are you fuckin’ dropping shit now? Huh?” Another blow, this one landing on your ear, causing it to ring and your eyes to blur for a moment as you wobbled on the balls of your feet, swaying from side to side. The man yelling at you was larger than you, older. His breath was hot and sour as he screamed in your face, his words sounding a million miles away as you tried to focus. What had you done this time? It wasn’t you that had knocked over the glass of water..you weren’t even near that side of the table..it was all your brother, all the boy who sat and watched as your father threatened to beat you black and blue again for something that you didn’t do. 

The ringing becomes too much, you fall to your knees and groan, head pounding and eyesight blurry, you barely notice the shards of whatever dish had fallen from your hands pushing further into the skin of your shins as you sink to the rough wood floor of the kitchen. 

“...OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, OMEGA!” He screamed, your hearing seeming to come back around, or maybe he just bellowed loud enough to overpower the ringing..you shook violently, fear and pain ringing through your body as he grabbed you by the hair on your scalp, dragging you across the ground, pushing the sharp bits of glass deeper into your skin..you would have to go digging to get them out now..

“No!NO! Papa, Papa please!” Your voice was frantic, shrill eyes wide as they finally focused enough to comprehend where he was pulling you off to, the familiar dingey wooden door of your own personal hell hole coming into sight. You’d only just been allowed out after..you couldn’t even remember how long..long enough that the days blurred together and you couldn’t tell how many tomorrows had come and passed. “No! I’ll be good, i’ll be good!” You clawed at his arm above you, trying desperately to pry his alpha strength off of your head, kicking your legs in an effort to slow him down, to buy yourself enough time to talk him out of it. 

“There’s no such thing as a good Omega, you’re living proof!” He growls, throwing open the deadbolt to the door before swinging it open. The darkness awaiting you seemed thicker than usual. “You all deserve to be punished! To be hid, to be locked away and never looked at again! You deserve to be treated like the runts and vermin you fucking are! Your mother tricked me into thinking that she was sweet and innocent, that she needed me to protect her, to fill her with little alpha pups, and then she gave me you! And then you killed her when you breathed life and stole hers, and i saw you for what you are, nothing but a conniving, evil monster!” He held your hair tightly at the top of the stairs, forcing you to look up into his eyes as he ranted at you, for something that you didn’t even remember. Weren’t capable of remembering..

He raised you off of your feet and your eyes widened, a shrill plea leaving your chest “NO, NO! N-AHHGH!”

Simon lay in bed, hands balled into fists behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, the moon dancing across it as it shined through his window, jaw clenched as he listened to you whimper and moan through the thin wall separating your room from his. His senses were on high alert, his wolf haywire in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to jerk off to the smell of you, once he started he knows he probably wouldn’t ever stop, not until he’d had the real thing and not just the thought of you. He knew that his cock was probably going to be perpetually hard now, never going to go down until he’d stuffed the meaty length of it into your sweet smelling cunt, not until he’d fucked it good and stuffed it full of his pups would he even be able to think like a normal alpha again. 

The smell of you was intoxicating. It flooded his senses and over powered his mind. You were sweet smelling, decadent he could even say. He had noted it before you’d been in heat but now that you were, even in just the beginning stages, it was more powerful, more endearing and mouth watering. It was enough to make a man forget how to behave. It was enough to drive an Alpha into delirium, to trigger his own rut. 

He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think about anything other than you, shoving a knife into someone's chest, pizza and a cheap pint, johnny- no! Not that scottish prick! His wolf howled and he grunted, fisting his own hair just to feel something to keep himself grounded. Johnny wouldn’t shut his trap, his intrusive thoughts and his lack of a thought process allowing him to just blurt out how good you smelled, he could just hear his voice in his head, could hear him “Bet that lit’le cunt is nie’ n warm, wet ‘n sloppy, eh LT? Smells like a fookin’ dream..” He was just shooting up in bed with a growl at imaginary Johnny when your scream pierced his ears, his bedroom door slammed against the wall, ricocheting as he busted through yours after flying down the hallway, practically ripping it off of its hinges. He looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an intruder, ready to fight off some stray Alpha or Beta that might have followed your pheromones from town in hopes of mating and breeding you against your will in the middle of the night. 

He saw nobody, saw nothing but you thrashing wildly in the middle of the king sized bed you had built your nest upon, spotting the hoodie he’d shrugged off of his body and laid in the middle of your spot while you took a hot bath earlier in the day, satisfied that he could leave you alone with something to scent to help calm you down. He had paid enough attention in Omega anatomy class to remember that that was something that you guys craved, and just the scent of a strong Alpha could help ease the pain wrought by your heat. You were in pain, he decided, that was why you had screamed as you had, there was nothing for him to protect you from, nothing for him to keep you safe from in your vulnerable state. 

He had just wrestled his wolf back from the forefront of his mind and was slowly backing away from your bed and back towards the hallway when you let loose another scream, this one was one of pure terror. You were sat straight up in bed, his fight or flight triggered, he throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he throws you back down, tucking you into his body as he looses a mean growl, baring his teeth as he looked all about, trying to find what you were so terrified of. 

“No!NO!” You screamed, thrashing and bucking under him, your eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, wolf going crazy. “Help her! HELP HER YOU BIG DUMB OAF CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S SCARED?!” His wolf whimpered, howled, only making Simon’s heart race more as he tried to form a coherent thought. 

“Rosie..” He grunted, patting your face lightly,  still clutching you to his body as best as he could, legs on either side of you as he hovered over you on the bed. “Rosie, lovie, wake up-wake up, lovie..” He patted your face, again, a little harder this time and your eyes finally fluttered, looking up at him. 

“S’mon?” You whispered, hands clutching the chest of his tank top from where your arms were trapped between the both of your bodies, unable to move with his weight pressed against yours. “Had a bad dream..”

He sighs, head leaning down so his forehead is touching yours, noses brushing against each other. “I know, lovie, i know.” He says after a moment, shifting his body so that you’re laying on top of him, using his chest and shoulders as a pillow, legs entwined with his own. All thoughts of breeding you gone and out the window for now, his only thought and instinct to keep you safe. “Not goin’ anywhere okay? Gonna stay right 

‘ere an’ keep you safe..” 

And he did, letting you doze back off on top of him, his mind still reeling as he tried to imagine exactly what had happened in that head of yours to make you scream with such terror, to have you so scared that he could feel your body shaking. He wanted, no he needed to know so that he could make sure you were never scared of it again. So he could take it and obliterate it for ever making you feel anything but safe under the same roof as him. 

Eventually, his wolf and his mind calmed down and he was able to lull himself into a light sleep of his own, his arms not moving from around you. 

You wake to a warmth spread from your head to your toes, a dampness to your skin that had you wriggling out of your sleep shirt with eyes closed still, not registering the soft body beneath you until you went to plop your head back down and it didn’t sink into the soft down of your pillow, but the scraggly hairs of a muscular, wide chest that was poking out of the top of a gray tank top, the kind a man would wear under his tshirt if he wanted the extra layers, or sleep in, you supposed. You knew immediately that it was Simon and as if on cue your wolf fought her way to to the front of your mind, your aching cunt clenching around nothing but your sopping panties as you realized that your mound wasn’t too far from where his cock would be, your leg thrown over his waist, held there by one of his large, meaty hands gripping your equally meaty thigh. 

“Look at him, our pretty Alpha..so handsome, so strong..” She wasn’t wrong, he was pretty. His skull mask was nowhere to be found, and to say it was strange to not see it adorned on his face would be an understatement, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. “Want to give him pretty little pups, let him fill us, please, please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise!” You groan, trying to shut her voice out, though it was hard to do. At this stage, your mind belonged to her, this was her time, and you had always let it be, but you hadn’t had an Alpha home during your heat in..awhile. 

You let your eyes roam over his face for a while, failing to notice the way his breathing changes as he fully wakes up, aware of your gaze. He has such a strong jaw, a strong, handsome face, sweet looking even, you would say, despite the scars lingering along his pale skin. Your lips quiver at the realization that someone had probably put them there and that thought alone made you want to cry because how could anyone ever want to hurt this perfect specimen of an alpha? His nose is terribly crooked, as if it had been broken on more than one occasion..you would know, yours had been broken at least three times that you remembered. You wanted to sit on it. To feel his nose brush against your aching, throbbing clit, to feel his scruff of a beard that had grown over night against the apex of your thighs, leaving beard burn as he fucks you with his wet, strong tongue. 

You don’t notice that your hips are bucking against the side of his hard stomach, don’t realize you’ve whimpered until his hand squeezes your thigh, fingers marking the skin from the way that he grips at it, brown eyes suddenly shot open and staring you down, full lips tugged into a wicked smirk. 

“Easy there, babygirl..” He grunts, voice thick and raspy after not having used it for a bit. 

You pout at his words,  wolf whimpering. The desperate noise leaves your throat and you feel no shame as your hips buck again, needing the friction. 

“Hurts Si’..” You whimper, not giving a damn to ask why he was in your bed in the first place. You remembered having a nightmare, remembered him vaguely waking you from it. You assume he had stayed to make sure you were okay. “Need you..need you to help me, Simon..please?” 

He closes his own eyes at your words, fingers digging further into the fat of your thigh, as if he’s trying to control himself. You don’t want him to, you want hm to lose control, to use you in any way he saw fit, you wouldn’t fight him, would be as pliable for him as you could possibly be, you just wanted to breathe in his scent, suck his cock into your aching pussy for a bit..like a chew toy for the wolf taking over your mind. 

You can’t help but to giggle for a second at the thought, you couldn’t help but to think that his cock was probably big enough to pose as a chew toy anyway, no way you could get your mouth all the way around it if he let suck it. 

“Rosi-”

“Simonnn” You preen, pouting at him and you can just feel the resolve break. Oh! What a good Alpha, not making us beg! “Please help me..hurts..need you so bad..please!”

A growl bubbles in his chest and you could how in excitement knowing you’ve won, “Fine!” Knowing he’s about to bully his cock into your cunt until he’s had his fill, until you’re crying and begging him for more, until he’s knocked you up good with one of his little blonde pups- “But i’m not going to fuck you,” A whine as you pout and you watch his eyes widen, watch him fight with himself for a second as he shakes his head, as if shutting up that voice that you  know he hears too. “No-don’t do that babygirl..You listen to me now.” The sternness in his voice catches your attention, your cunt pulsing at the way it radiates through you. “I want to fuck you so bad, lovie, want to sit you on my cock for fuckin’ hours, believe me, it’s all ‘ve been able to think about since I walked into that garden..but I can’t do it when you’re not all the way there, when you’re delirious in heat..” A pout that damn near breaks him, that definitely breaks the wolf in his head, howling ricocheting in his ears as he tries to talk. “I’m going to fuck you, lovie, but not until your heat is done, yeah? Don’t worry babygirl, m’still gonna help you though, know it hurts, baby, know you need my help..” 

You hadn’t realized he had bunched the waistband of your panties in his hand until then, letting go of your thigh to pull at the seam of the fabric, ripping it apart and tugging it from your mound. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the soaked cotton to his crooked nose, closing his eyes as he takes a long sniff, a deep growl radiating through the room as he opens his eyes, staring straight into yours as his fist clenches around your panties. 

“Cm’ere, babygirl.” He grunts, pulling at you so that you’re sitting directly on his chest, pussy leaving a wet swatch in his chest hairs as he squeezes both hips. “Wanna sit on my face, don’t you? Saw the way you were looking at me, know just what you were thinkin’ huh?” You nod your head, but make no move to actually do it. You’re so big? What if you suffocate him? Bitch shut the fuck up and let him eat your fucking pussy, you whiney brat! He’s a big boy, he can fucking take it! You had the random thought that your wolf might actually try and kill you if you didn’t let her enjoy this, if you didn’t swallow your self conscious thoughts and let this glorious man eat you for breakfast. “Aht-aht, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking-” He pulls your hips so you’re sitting just below his neck now, your hands immediately catching yourself on the headboard, preventing him from pulling you up past his chin. He narrows his eyes at you, you see him shake his head, the firm line his plus lips are set in. A warning to behave and let him be in control. “Don’t-you want this, don’t you..want me to help you? Need me to make it better?” 

“Pleas-ungh” In a show of pure strength, he has you fully sat on his face before you can finish the word, warm, thick tongue devouring you as swirls it around your clit, you can’t help the rock of your hips or the way your head throws back as you moan when his tongue teases your aching whole, nose rubbing against your clit the way you imagined it when you tilted your hips. 

He groans beneath you, hands splayed on your bare ass cheeks, holding you in place as he grips so hard you’re sure his fingerprints will be permanently indented into your skin, not that you think you’d really mind it. “That’s it lovie, ride my face..”

You didn’t have to be told twice now that you had started. The way his tongue worked you open, the way he held you in place but still let you rut your hips against his face, making a slimy, glistening mess..his stubble brushed against your inner thighs, keeping you grounded from coming on the spot, though it doesn’t last for long. He’s got you coming within moments, skilled tongue going between clit and your pulsing hole, giving you what you needed as you rocked back and forth, taking what you wanted. “Tha’s a good girl, lovie..give me one more?” 

You’re not sure how many ‘one more’s’ you give him, but by the time he’s got you on the brink of over stimulation, he’s got his whole tongue buried in your hole, his teeth nibbling at your clit as you buck and tremble, tears brimming your eyes as you grip his hair in each hand, tugging harshly. His hands pushed up your shirt, exposing your soft, pudgy belly to him as he squeezed your tits in each of his large palms, fingers playing with your nipples as he fucks you with his mouth, cries and whimpers leaving your own. 

“Si-oh-mm, please! I can-so good, feel’s so good!” You’re a babbling mess, cheeks red as your thighs shake, still clenched around his head. He’s been at it for almost an hour and you swear he’s barely come up from air, he’s barely let you move off of his face for more than a moment, his mouth leaving your cunt only to praise you or bite into meat of your thighs, leaving a harsh imprint of his mouth, a reminder that this is in fact real. You’re on the brink of another when you realize that this one feels different, feels almost painful, even. “Si-mo-n, si-ugh-umf..hur-urts…” You screech out, swatting at the top of his head, he only grunts, pulling you down farther onto his mouth, his hands going back to grip your tighs, leaving your precious tits unattended as he does, holding you there as he brings another harsh bite to your clit, sending you over the edge. “Simon!” You shout, vision going blurry as something snaps in your lower belly, a gush of fluid coming from your cunt that has your cheeks heating as Simon groans out below you, lapping it up as quickly as it comes out, slurping even as he continues to make out with your pussy as you slouch against the headboard, being sure to avoid your overly sensitive clit as he does, leaving open mouthed kisses to your mound that honestly could have had you coming again if you weren’t entirely fucked out just from his mouth. How many was that? Five? Six? 

“You okay up there babygirl?” His voice is thick and raspy, sexy as he peeks up at you from between your still shaking legs. All you can do is nod meekly, unsure of what to say, mind oddly quiet as you pant out breaths, trying to come down from such an epic high. “Squirted al’over me lovie, legs are still shakin’” He’s chuckling at you, big warm hands rubbing your thighs in an effort to soothe the shaking. 

“M’sleepy, si’” You whimper out, still sagged against the headboard, mind gone numb, legs gone soft, heat and wolf satiated for the time being. 

“Yeah?” He asks, voice soft as he sits up slowly, sliding you down his body. Your clit catches on his chest hairs and the fabric of his now soaked tank top on the way down and your hips jumps, your whimper ringing out as he shushes you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Need’ta nap baby?” 

Your eyes are already closing before you can get the words out, before you can even nod your head, you barely register the way his lips kiss the side of your head as he leans back with you in his arms, the way his scent floods your senses, easing you into an easy slumber, as if that had been his plan all along. The last thing you remember before sleep takes you completely is wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into with him..

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree

[streamofcolors]

ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰.

Cregan Stark x Reader.

Summary: You become jealous when you see a serving girl attempt to seduce your husband.

Based on request: Hello love! I'd like to request a Cregan Stark x Reader piece where she sees him being touched on by some prostitutes at a feast, and she gets jealous. Smut or not, I'll leave it up to you.

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, mutual orgasm.

Author's note: This was the last request in my inbox, so please feel free to send a request. 🖤

You return to the feast after putting your son to bed, leaving him in the capable hands of your dedicated servants. Upon entering the hall, you are greeted by the lively melodies reverberating within the stone walls. Some guests are dancing, and everyone appears to be enjoying the refreshments provided.

Cregan is seated at the head of the Great Hall. His solemn expression softens slightly as he notices your return. He raises his mug of beer to his lips and watches as you navigate through the crowd.

“My lord, would you like me to refill your mug?” one of the serving girls approaches Cregan.

He glances up at the serving girl before returning his gaze to you. You are stuck in a conversation with a lord you have mentioned disliking. A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Cregan sets his mug down and pushes it toward the girl, not bothering to take his eyes off you.

The serving girl exaggeratedly bends over the table to refill Cregan’s mug, her provocative eyes fixed on him.

His smile fades from his face as he notices the girl’s exaggerated movements from the corner of his eye. He chooses to ignore her obvious attempts to seduce him, clearly uninterested. The smile that was there before reappears as he thinks to himself, as if the girl is even a sliver of the woman you are.

“Congratulations on your son’s second name day, my lord,” the serving girl makes another attempt to capture Cregan’s attention, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Cregan responds gruffly, his gaze briefly falling on the girl’s hand on his shoulder. Unfazed, he reaches for his now-refilled mug of beer and lifts it to his mouth, taking a sip from it. His gaze returns to you as he speaks in a composed tone. “You may take your hand off me, girl.”

Your eyes harden as you make your way through the crowd, watching the serving girl attempt to seduce Cregan from a distance.

Cregan catches your darkened gaze from across the room, noticing the hardness in your eyes. He raises an eyebrow in response, as if daring you to say something.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking my seat,” you say as you reach the table, a hint of irritation in your voice as you address the serving girl.

The serving girl turns her head in your direction, and her seductive demeanour immediately falters. Her hand falls from Cregan’s shoulder as she realizes she is in your way. “Of course, my Lady,” she says, her voice lacking any sort of challenge. She steps aside so you can sit in the empty chair next to Cregan.

Instead of taking your seat, you approach Cregan and sit on his lap.

Cregan’s lips twitch into an amused smile. His hand immediately finds its way to your hip, his fingers gently caressing your skin through the material of your dress. He leans back in his chair and brings his mug to his mouth, taking another sip.

He lowers the mug from his mouth before speaking, his voice deep and husky. “Feeling possessive, are we, Lady Stark?”

“I am merely claiming what is rightfully mine,” you murmur as you watch the serving girl scurry away.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound of it nearly lost in the noise of the feast. Cregan’s hand on your hip tightens its grip slightly. “Rightfully yours, indeed,” he agrees quietly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

-

The wait until all your guests had left was tedious, but here you were, dragging Cregan back to your chamber. He stays silent as you drag him through the dimly lit corridors. He does not question where you are taking him because he already knows.

With each step, his pulse quickens in anticipation, his mind growing more and more clouded with thoughts of you. He wants you, needs you, yearns for you. He needs to feel you.

“Out, all of you. You are dismissed for the night,” you order the servants in your chamber as you drag Cregan inside. The servants, who were tidying your chamber and preparing it for the night, drop their tasks and quickly exit the chamber, leaving the two of you alone.

You close the distance between yourself and Cregan, pinning him against the door. Your fingers fumble to undo him of his cloak.

Cregan’s eyes darken with a mixture of anticipation and desire as he watches your fingers fumble with the clasps of his cloak. As his cloak falls to the ground with a thud, your hands move to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips meet yours hungrily, the intensity of the kiss almost overwhelming. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer, wanting to feel the heat of your body against his own.

“Stupid girl, thinking she could seduce you,” you murmur against Cregan’s lips as you continue to undress him.

Cregan’s breath hitches as you speak, your words sending a shiver through his body. “She never stood a chance,” he agrees in a deep voice, his hands moving to the laces of your dress, loosening them with practiced fingers.

“You know I have no interest in other women,” he adds, a hint of amusement in his tone as he pushes your dress off your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your exposed shift.

You hum in response as you lift Cregan’s blue tunic over his head, your fingers hooking into his breeches and tugging him with you as you walk backward to the bed.

“Off,” you gesture to his breeches as you crawl onto the bed.

Cregan’s eyes darken at your command. He obeys without hesitation, unfastening the laces of his breeches and pushing them down along with his smallclothes. He follows you onto the bed with a sense of urgency, his body craving yours. He positions himself between your legs, his hands roaming over your thighs, pushing the bunched-up fabric of your shift even higher up.

Using all your strength, you manage to push Cregan onto his back. You move to straddle him, lifting your shift up over your head and tossing it to the side. The sight of you straddling him, bare and exposed, leaves Cregan breathless. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every curve, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips.

“Gods,” he groans, his fingers digging into your flesh, his voice strangled with desire.

You lean forward, hovering your face above Cregan’s. “You’re mine,” you murmur seductively. Your hardened nipples brushing against Cregan’s chest.

“I’m yours,” he agrees immediately, his voice rough with desire.

You sit back up and raise your hips, guiding Cregan’s hardened length towards your entrance. You gasp as you sink down on his length, your eyes fluttering shut at the familiar stretch.

Cregan’s head falls back against the furs, a guttural moan escaping his lips as you flutter around his length.

Your trembling hands rest on his muscular chest, stabilizing yourself as you begin to ride him at a slow pace.

Cregan’s heartbeat quickens beneath your hands. He watches you with a sense of awe and admiration, his eyes filled with longing. His hands are on your hips guiding your movements. He wants more, needs more.

You pick up your pace, your thrusting turning into desperate grinding, your face scrunching up with pleasure.

His hands tighten on your hips, and a low growl escapes from the back of his throat. He watches you intently, his eyes drinking in every expression you make. He craves to make you come undone. He plants his feet into the bed, thrusting up into you.

You slump forward, a whimper escaping your throat as Cregan thrusts up into you. Your head gently rests against the crook of his neck.

Cregan’s arms immediately wrap around you, holding you close against his chest. He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin, your body trembling against his.

“Oh, Cregan,” you gasp as your orgasm washes over you, your walls clenching around him.

The feeling of you clenching around him pushes Cregan over the edge. He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning lowly as he spills his seed inside of you.

You chuckle against Cregan’s neck, your breath coming out in shallow puffs. Your tired body slumps on top of him.

Cregan wraps his arms around you, holding you close. His fingers gently trace patterns along the curve of your back.

“I’m yours,” he whispers softly.

“You’re mine,” you repeat his words.

Cregan cranes his neck to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Only yours,” he confirms, holding you tighter against him.

[logans-whore]

Back from the dead to talk about Logan with a reader with an eating disorder. This was requested by @laiiis-stuff .Please note, that this mostly based on my experience, and I don't speak for everyone.

Okay. So let's be real, this man is OLD. He won't understand what a disorder is . But he'll notice the way your face falls whenever someone mentions dieting or weight, and the way you eat less, and less, when someone does.

And he notices when you skip meals, giving the excuse that you're not hungry, even as you eye food longingly

And ( I say this with all the love in my heart), this man is a dumbass, he’s going to think something is wrong. He’s going to worry like crazy about why you’re not eating. Are you sick? He can’t smell any sickness on you.

And his anxiety is gonna grow, and grow, and grow until it bubbles over and he panics. Cornering you in your shared room.

“Are you okay? Are you sick? You can tell me, I can handle it”

You’re confused, wondering what on earth he’s talking about, till he says he’s seen you not eating and you freeze

Hesitantly you explain. That food means weight, and weight is bad, even though you know it is’nt really, that food is fuel and that you would never say it or think it about any of your heavier friends, your brain won’t get the memo that it it’s that way for you too.

Once he finds out though? Hoooooo boy, he will be supportive.

The morning after you talk you come down to all the calories on the food you guys have scratched out. Like they were clawed out (I wonder who’d do that?)

He’ll take care to praise all the parts of your body that you’re insecure about, and bless his heart, he is not subtle about it, but he is trying and that matters.

Looking in the mirror in a too tight top? Like he has a super sense for when you’re feeling insecure, hes behind you, squeezing your tummy, mumbling about how much he loves it. Walking down the street with him? He'll slip his hand into your back pocket and squeeze your ass. At your smacking his hand away, he’ll grin, putting his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, doll, can't help myself. ‘S too addictive”

And he's had his own troubles with insecurities, and he's had his own problems with self-worth, (Just saying, with Jean and Scott, to constantly hear that Scott's better than him and that's why she chooses him? You're gonna need to reassure him sometimes too. That you love him and that hes the one you want.) and he hates to know that you're feeling the same way about yourself.

Just- even if he doesn't understand, he will be so, so supportive, and never fail to make you feel loved and beautiful.

(NOTE FROM ME! I'm taking requests now, so feel free to come scream (or cream) about Logan in my inbox!)

[pedgito]

february is over and i can feel the seasonal depression leaving my body as we speak, i was a little lacking on reading this month being so busy irl, but i still have so many goodies on this list. i'd also like to add that some lovely mutuals are spreading much needed love to our BIPOC writers, so if you have any recs that you'd like to give some extra attention to you can check out these posts linked below (& feel free send them to my inbox too! i'm always looking for more fics to read!) x — x also, i've said this a few times in the past but i do have a tracked tagged #useralii and that isn't just for gifs (so if you have fics or edit that you'd like to tag me in, please feel free!)

this key will help you figure out which fics are more your vibe, or if you’re just curious of the contents before you dive in:

smut = 🌶️, fluff = ☁️ angst = ☄️

total fics listed below: 21

✎ — 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

↝ prisonic fairytale by @kedsandtubesocks — 🌶️, ☄️

You’re looking for someone… what you find here in the fog instead has you staring into the abyss - and you discover it stares back (& wears the face of someone terrifyingly handsome)

↝ what remains of a man by @jolapeno — 🌶️, ☄️ (AO3)

Joel Miller doesn't care. Not about Pretty Eyes. Not how she feels beside him. Not when she's under him. Not when she's hurt and she doesn't come to him. Not. At. All.

↝ just this once by @punkshort — 🌶️

After yet another argument with your dad, his buddy across the street is there to help make you feel better.

↝ trashed by @gutsby — 🌶️

You fuck Joel in his filthy double-wide.

↝ see you at three (series - ongoing) by @/almostfoxglove — 🌶️, ☄️, ☁️

When your sister starts working nights, you're stuck with afterschool pickup duty for your eight-year-old niece. You love the kid, so you don't mind. And, sure—maybe you don't mind having an excuse to check out her classmate's dad, Joel, five times a week, either.

↝ the fuck it list (series — ongoing) by @auteurdelabre — 🌶️, ☄️, ☁️

During work at your father’s construction company, you’re inspired by your sexually liberated bestie to create a F*ck-It List of sexy experiences you’ve always wanted to try. But when the list accidentally ends up in the hands of Joel Miller— your dad’s best friend, the company’s co-CEO, and your immediate supervisor—things take an unexpected turn. Initially shocked by the discovery, Joel eventually agrees to help you tackle the list, leading to sexual adventures and undeniable chemistry.  However as you begin to fall for Joel the complications of your relationship come into focus, leading you both to realize that love may be one item you won’t be able to check off your list.

✎ — 𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀

↝ visitation by @gothcsz — 🌶️

Javier visits you in prison after putting you in there.

✎ — 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐔𝐒

↝ guilty as sin (series — in progress) by @ovaryacted — 🌶️, ☄️

Being the daughter of a Senator of Rome has it's pros and cons, you lived comfortably while constantly being reminded of your insubordinate position in society. However, upon meeting General Acacius, your life changes as you begin to grow fond of him. The question is, will he reciprocate your feelings, or cast you out to suffer your impending doom of unwanted courtship?

✎ — 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

↝ golden kisses by @mrsmando — 🌶️

Newly single, Dave finds comfort in life’s simple pleasures; among other things.

✎ — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

↝ the mirage of a goodbye by @sawymredfox — ☄️

Forgiveness and healing are heavy words. They come with a price, one that may be life-changing tonight.

✎ — 𝐄𝐙𝐑𝐀 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓)

↝ wash & hold by @ak-vintage — 🌶️, ☁️

After discovering some unfamiliar clothes in your laundry (and losing some of your own in return), you begin exchanging messages with another resident in your apartment complex.

✎ — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

↝ of death and butterflies by @galway-girlatwork — ☄️

Everyone’s heard the stories of Lilith. Of how she came to be. But are the stories true? Is she really a demon or something else? She was not born of angels but created by Death himself. To walk between the land of the living and dead. But what happens when The Fates intervene and present her soulmate? Countless lives and re-incarnations have been lived and lost. Will Oberyn remember before another life slips between their fingers like sand?

✎ — 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 (𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒)

↝ leverage by @/ovaryacted — 🌶️

Clint kidnaps you and takes you on a crime filled cross country roadtrip where you slowly start to fall in love with him.

✎ — 𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒

↝ sounds dangerous by @almostfoxglove — ☄️

When you reply to a bizarre craigslist ad, a stranger on the other side of the country charms his way into your life.

↝ the prettiest (series — in progress) by @/almostfoxglove — 🌶️

After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in. Now he'll do anything it takes to have you.

✎ — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒

↝ double lovin' (+ dieter bravo) by @iamasaddie — 🌶️

You doomed yourself to spend Valentine's day alone, buried in blankets and sobbing over Bridgit Jones' love story, but a surprise visit from Lucien and his friend turns your plans to waste.

✎ — 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐎

↝ cowboy like me by @chaotic-mystery — ☄️, ☁️

Dieter is terrible at accents for his new cowboy role, and an even more terrible neighbor.

✎ — 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

↝ cherry stems by @gracieheartspedro — 🌶️

Eddie rejects your advances because his friends are around. So you use them to your advantage. Piss Eddie off and maybe you'll get what you want. Maybe.

↝ eat your heart out by @eiightysixbaby — 🌶️

In which Eddie masters Valentine’s Day through the art of eating pussy.

↝ make me feel (+ gareth emerson) by @/gracieheartspedro — 🌶️

You fly out to reunite with your rockstar boyfriend Eddie Munson. After a long day, you decide to return to his bed on the tour bus, but it seems like it is already occupied by his bandmate, Gareth.

↝ the hat rule by @ghost-proofbaby — 🌶️

When eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.

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