#she's my baby. she's my mom. she's my wife. she's my best friend. she's my boss. she's everything

[asterdeer]

omg myth for blorbo bingo pls pls do lucretia adventurezone....

BLESS U

we got a BINGO, friends and enemies, lucretia adventurezone is the most important person in the world

[fandomsandfeminism]

Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?

Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.

All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)

But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.

But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.

I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?

It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.

Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.

Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)

[chuluoyi]

the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

[kookslastbutton]

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[pedrospatch]

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

��Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, the godfather

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - a collection of max fewtrell's importance to your son as his favorite godfather.

masterlist 

-

the big question

“y’know i’ve been thinking,” lando mumbles into your stomach, the comfortable home of baby finn as he grows at just four months, “we should figure out godparents,” your husband suggests. 

“oh yeah,” you sigh, continuing your motions of combing lando’s hair with your fingers as his head rests on your chest in order to have his nightly conversation with the baby, “we’ve been so wrapped up in names, i haven’t even thought about godparents,”

“i know,” lando shrugs, moving his hand gently up and down your bump, “should we do siblings or friends?” 

“hmm,” you think to yourself before voicing your opinion, “i think friends,” you feel your husband nod his head in agreement, “i mean our siblings already have a place in our baby’s life, we should involve our friends in a more meaningful manner,”

“i agree,” lando nods again, “do you mind if i pick the godfather, and then you could pick the godmother?”

“already itching to ask max, huh?” you giggle as your husband joins in with your laughter. 

“how’d you know?” he asks sarcastically as you continue your laughs. 

“do you wanna ask him tomorrow when he comes over to stream?” with that question, lando’s ears perk up in excitement as he moves his head off your chest in order to meet your eyes.

“yes!” he exclaims, “who are you gonna ask?” he questions, leaning in quickly to peck your lips as you think for a moment, “y/b/f/n?”

“yeah, that’s what i was thinking, she’s really been there for me with the pregnancy and we’ve been best friends forever,”

“invite her over tomorrow,” lando suggests, “her and max get on well, we can all have dinner after max and i stream and we’ll ask them,” you nod at his request, beginning to pull out your phone to text her and invite her over tomorrow. she replies quickly that she’s free and would love to come. you show lando the text as you smile together in triumph and excitement. 

the next day, max had come around four in the afternoon in order to stream for a few hours. you could hear the boys yelling and laughing while live as you moved around the nursery, sorting through different items. a few moments later, the knock on your door brings butterflies to your stomach, nerves rattling you about your question later. 

“hi!!” you giggle as your best friend greets you with a hug after opening the door, “i’m just getting some stuff together in the nursery before i start dinner, wanna help?”

“of course!” she cries out, “i can’t wait to see all the new stuff you got since i’ve been here last,”

“oh my gosh, so much,” you smile, “lando’s mom stopped by a few days ago with a bunch of things, that’s what i’m mainly sorting now,”

“ugh, that’s so sweet,” she holds a hand over her heart as you begin to walk back towards the nursery, “are they live in there?”

“i think so,”

“is it just fewtrell and lando?”

“yeah,”

“i’m gonna pop in really quick to say hi,”

“okay, just meet me in the nursery,”

after a plethora of clothes and toys sorted, two different video games conquered, you head to the kitchen in order to prepare dinner. 

“oh how i’ve missed your cooking, y/n,” max sighs out, rubbing his stomach as him and lando enter the kitchen. he hops onto the barstool at the counter next to your best friend as lando makes his way towards you, placing a gentle kiss to your neck. 

“and i’ve missed you eating all our food, fewtrell,” you bite back quickly, pointing your spoon at him jokingly. 

“need any help, baby?” lando quietly asks you, a hand coming up to run over your stomach. 

“i think i’m fine, it’s almost ready,” you turn a bit, kissing his cheek in appreciation, “you wanna get them drinks?”

“what are you guys drinking?” lando directs to your friends. 

“i’m drinking double for miss momma over there,” your best friend laughs, waving a finger at you. 

“i think that’s my job,” lando jokes along with her, “if i have to put up with the hormones, i get to drink double,”

“hey!” you exclaim with a small hit to your husband’s stomach, “i haven’t been that bad,” you look up from the food and find three pairs of eyes staring back at you with raised eyebrows, “what?”

“oh honey…” your best friend trails off, “lando’s a saint,”

“wow,” you sigh out, “i’m rethinking my decision right now,”

“what decision?” max asks, cracking three beers open and passing them around.

“well,” you pause and glance at lando, him giving you a slight nod to keep going, “we had ulterior motives in inviting you both here tonight,”

“a foursome?” your best friend jokes, “listen, guys, you’re great but i don’t see you like that-”

“shut up,” you cut her off with a laugh, “we were hoping you’d be baby norris’ godparents,” you and lando look at them, hope buzzing around you that they’d accept. 

“oh my god…” fewtrell trails off, a hand coming to cover his mouth in disbelief. 

“yes! a thousand times yes!” your best friend cries out beside him.

“what she said!” max joins in, both of them sliding off the barstools and running around the counter to hug the both of you. 

-

their first meeting

“hey mate, yeah she did great,” you hear lando mumbling into his phone as you continue to coo at the little baby boy in your arms, “why don’t you drop by? i’m sure she’ll be okay with it,” with that new sentence, you tear your eyes away from finn and meet lando’s gaze. he mouths a quick ‘max’ and you nod in approval to his visitation, “alright, we’ll see you soon,”

“max fewtrell, right?” you ask once your husband gets off the phone. he nods at your question, moving to be right back by your side, adoring his baby boy and his gorgeous wife.

“i don’t think verstappen is itching to see him like fewtrell is,” lando giggles as his hand comes up to brush some hair out of your eyes, “you did so good, love,” after the praise, he leans in for a kiss, happily reciprocated by you. 

“thank you, lan,” you breath out, “when will max be here?”

“about an hour,” he answers quietly, still adoring the little baby in front of him, “do you want to nap?”

“you read my mind, love,” relief lacing your tired voice as you begin to hand finn off to his father, “just wake me a few minutes before max arrives, please,”

“of course, get some rest, baby,” he holds finn in his arm with one hand as his other comes to pull the blankets higher onto your body. leaning over slightly, careful of the newborn in his arms, he pecks your lips lightly before you fall asleep. 

forty-five minutes later, you’re gently being shaken awake, finn safely in his hospital-given bassinet, “baby,” lando quietly speaks, careful not to startle you or wake the baby. 

“is max almost here?” you groggily ask, beginning to rub the sleep from your eye.

“yes, love, in about ten minutes,” he assures you. 

“okay, is finn alright?”

“sleeping happily beside you,”

“thank you, does he need to be fed?”

“the nurse said that your next feeding would be in another hour,”

“okay,” you let out a breath, “will you help me up? i want to change before he comes,”

“oh baby, you don’t have to change for him, just relax,” lando pushes, but you just look down at your shirt and up at him. 

“lan, i appreciate that, i really do,” you start, “but my tits leaked milk in my sleep, i’m soaked,”

“oh,” lando laughs, you joining him, “okay let me get you a new shirt,”

after you had changed into your clean and dry shirt, you scooped up your baby boy just as max begins to walk into the room. he’s holding a large bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. 

“hiii,” he whispers out into the room, “congratulations,” you keep quiet, letting your husband share this moment with his best friend. 

“thanks for coming, mate,” lando walks over to him, pulling him into a brief hug. 

“are you kidding? i wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he laughs, “these are for you,” he waves the flowers around before setting them down on the table next to you, “and this is for you too,” he waves the bottle of champagne as well, “for the sleepless nights,” he finishes with a wink. 

“that is so sweet, max, you didn’t have to do that,” you reply to his thoughtful gesture. 

“of course i did,”

“no i mean the champagne,” you nod in its direction on your bedside table, “that won’t be opened for months, i’m breastfeeding,”

“oh,” he retracts a bit before picking it up and moving towards your husband, “this is for you-”

“shut up,” lando laughs, grabbing the bottle and setting it down, “do you want to meet him?”

“yes,” he whispers out, eyes turning back to you and the bundle of joy in your arms. 

“c’mere,” you usher him over, moving the baby into his arms as he begins to melt at the sight. 

“he’s adorable,” max croaks out, emotions overflowing as he stares down at his godson, “thank god he takes after you, y/n,” you and lando share a laugh, and you eye your husband, urging him to tell his best friend the news. 

“um,” lando starts, moving to sit next to you on your bed, “do you want to know his name?”

“yes,” max replies quickly, his eyes never leaving the newborn in his arms. 

“its uh,” lando coughs, clearing his throat from nerves, “finn maxwell norris,”

“what?” fewtrell stares at your husband in disbelief, tears beginning to form in his waterline. 

“you heard me, mate,” lando nods his head, emotions clouding his face as well. 

“oh my go- oh my god,” max stutters out, eyes now moving back down to finn, “you are named after such a great guy,” he jokes, causing erupted laughter throughout the hospital room. 

-

babysitting

“okay, you’ve got the list right there with his schedule,” you point out to max, finn running around in circles with lando chasing right behind him, “and you’ve got everyone's numbers that you need,”

“i think so,” max nods, “i think i still have your mom’s from last time,”

“okay good,” you nod, “if there’s a real emergency and we can’t be reached call lando’s dad first, he’s closest,”

“got it,” max states, “you know i’ve done this a lot, y/n. i’ve been babysitting him since he was a newborn, now he’s three,”

“so you know i’m a paranoid first time mother,” you laugh at him, “i have to go through the motions,”

“i know, but he’ll be fine,” max laughs, pulling you into a hug, “i haven’t killed him yet,”

“very true,”

“and i’m more responsible than your husband over there,” fewtrell nods his head in the direction of lando and finn, running around like madmen in the living room, cackling with each other at their antics. 

“you are so right,” you laugh at the scene in front of you, “alright norris!” you call out, both your boys whipping their heads in your direction, “the big one,” you clarify, “we’ve got to go,”

“right, right,” he agrees, bending down to give finn the talk about behavior. after a few ‘yes dada’s’ and giggles shared between the two, your husband is walking over to your place at the door, “ready?”

“yes, love,” you give him a quick peck to the cheek, “finn?”

“momma?” he asks from his spot in between max’s legs.

“best behavior?”

“yes, momma,” he nods, gripping onto max as you just smile at him, “alright, we’ll be back late, max the guest room is all set up for you,”

“i know the drill, y/n,” he laughs at you.

“paranoid mother, remember?” you direct back. 

“yes, i will check in on the hour if i have to,”

“much appreciated, mate,” lando finishes the conversation, pushing you out the door, “we’ll see you tonight,”

the door shuts behind you and lando, max now bending over to meet the little blue eyes staring back up at him. 

“are we playing monster tonight?” he asks the little boy. 

“MONSTA!” finn screeches in excitement, running towards the living room and away from max as he starts chasing him. 

“i’m gonna get you!” fewtrell screams out as he chases finn, “monsters coming!”

“NOO!” your baby cries out, laughter evident in the home as the two boys continue the chase. 

that night, you and lando arrive back to a dark home, holding each other up a bit as you were both carrying a slight alcohol buzz. you giggle into lando’s lips as they continue their attack on your own. 

“lan,” you laugh into his mouth, “mmph, save it for the bedroom,”

“i can’t help it my wife looks so so good tonight,” he replies, voice in a dropped octave, his hands grabbing your ass with no shame. 

“mm,” you hum again into his mouth, “and my husband looks fantastic every night,”

“that’s not fair,” he laughs, one hand moving to grab your chest as his other hand stays on your bum, “i think you look good every night too, you one upped my compliment,”

“well, i’m sorry,” you feign innocence, “why don’t you just show me how beautiful i am every night,”

“oh baby, i plan on it,”

“c’mon let’s go to our room,” you begin to drag him down the hall, but not without halting your movements due to the slightly ajar door to your right. lando, still kind of tipsy, runs right into your back as you’re stopped. 

“what, y/n?”

“look,” you nod your head into the room, lando following your gaze, his glossed over eyes softening at the sight. 

“they’re so cute,” he laughs from behind you. you both take another moment, staring into your guest room at max and finn passed out in the bed together. max was pushed onto the left side with finn’s little body sprawled across him, “should i move finn into his room?” 

“no, let them sleep,” you turn your attention towards your husband again, “you owe me some compliments in the bedroom,” you grab lando’s hand and start your way to the bedroom once again. 

“i like the sound of that, love,” he whispers in giggles, you both a tipsy mess, running to your room. 

-

running away

“FINN!” you yell at your four year old, “i told you to pick up and put away your toys two hours ago, what is this?” 

“i don’t wannnaa,” he whines, stomping his foot down. 

“i don’t care,” you firmly push, “put away your toys now. otherwise your father will hear about this when he gets back,”

“i’m not gonna,” he huffs out, crossing his arms over his little chest, challenging you to break.

“fine,” you turn away from him and to the mess littered across your entire apartment, taking in a deep breath before you did snap, “wait until your father gets home,” finn doesn’t like the sound of this, beginning to cry and run away to his room, “DON’T SLAM THAT DOOR!” you shout down the hall. bang. it slammed. you breathe one more time, and wait for lando to walk through the door and handle his mini-me. 

you were five months pregnant, and too exhausted to deal with his temper tantrum. finn was always a good kid, and the tantrums were never often. but when they came, they came in hard. it was usually after not enough sleep, or not enough food, but only a few times a year, thankfully. you and lando always joked that all the built up little tantrums he didn’t have morph into a few gigantic ones a year. 

finally after an hour you hear the front door open, heaving yourself up and off the couch, you make your way into lando’s arms. 

“hey, baby,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around you as you just sink further into him, “what’s wrong?”

“finn, he’s having a tantrum day,” you sigh, waving one of your arms not wrapped around your husband to the mess that was your home, “he wouldn’t pick up his toys, he screamed, cried, slammed the door,” you breathe out, letting your emotions finally wash over you since your rock was finally home. lando wraps his arms around you tighter, letting you finally calm down a little. he sways you a bit as he hears you fight the tears back, rubbing your shoulder.

“i’m sorry, love,” he tries to calm you, “i’ll talk to him, okay?” you nod your head in his chest, “are you alright?”

“better now that you’re here,” you mumble, “i’m sorry i had to welcome you home like this-”

“hey, hey,” he stops you quickly, “don’t apologize, i’m gonna talk to him,” lando leads you back over to the couch, propping your feet up and then moving towards his son’s room. 

knocking twice on the door, he hears a quiet, but stern, ‘come in’. 

“hey, bubs,” lando greets the four year old, “i heard about today,” your husband tries to talk to finn, but he won’t look away from the coloring book he’s using, sprawled across the floor, “finn,” lando puts sharper, but finn just keeps coloring.

lando rolls his eyes quickly, moving towards his son and grabbing the coloring book from him.

“HEY!” finn shouts at his dad. 

“now i’ve got your attention?” lando asks him, “i should’ve had your attention when i called your name the first time- actually, your mother should have had your attention when she asked you to complete a simple task!” your husband begins to raise his voice at finn, not shouting, but definitely not coddling the boy.

“but dada-” he begins to whine. 

“no finn, no ‘buts’. you have been very bad today and you owe your mother an apology,” lando stands in front of him, hands on hips, and finn just continues to whine on the floor, “get up, finn, go apologize and clean up your toys,” he watches as his son doesn’t move an inch, “NOW!” he shouts, but the young four year old is unbothered. 

“no, i go live with uncle max!” he shouts back, now getting up to grab his small suitcase. 

“finn maxwell norris,” lando gives his warning tone to the boy, the one that usually scares the shit out of him, but he just keeps packing, “fine, go live with him,” he attempts to call his sons bluff, moving out of the room and back to his wife on the couch. 

“what happened? i heard you yelling,” you ask lando as he sits down with a sigh, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

“i hate yelling at him, i do, it’s just when he gets like this-”

“i know, lan,” you reassure him, “i think we got blessed with such a sweet boy on most days that his hard days are worse than normal,”

“he says he’s moving in with max,” lando chuckles, “i’d love to see him go one night without our goodnight cuddles to him,”

you laugh along with your husband before adding on, “or he’ll come out of his tantrum fog and realize he misses his parents that he loves so much,”

“for sure,” he giggles with you, just as your son stomps out of his room and towards the door. 

“where ya going, finn?” you ask in innocence, already knowing the answer.

“to live with uncle max,” he huffs out. even in his terrible mood, you can’t help but find him just a bit adorable.

“okay,” your husband speaks to him, both of you beginning to get up and walk towards the door, “have fun,” lando opens the door, watching your son walk one door down the hall and knock. the door creaks open, max looking down at the little boy and his suitcase. 

“was there a sleepover i didn’t know about?” he asks you and lando as you watch from your doorway. 

“oh no,” your husband laughs, “finn tell him,”

“i move in with you,” he grunts out, making his way towards max. 

“i’m sorry, what?” fewtrell looks at the both of you again, searching for some sort of answer. 

“oh yeah,” you nod, “he wants to live with you now,”

“um,” max starts, letting the little boy walk through his legs and into his apartment, “okay?”

“don’t worry, mate,” lando laughs, “he’ll be back tomorrow,”

“i’m sure,” max agrees, “the kid hates the food in my house,”

“that’s because you have no food in your house, fewtrell,” you laugh.

“and that’s why i alway eat dinner at your house, y/l/n,”

“and that’s why i don’t feel bad about my kid crashing with you tonight,” you jab back. you all say your goodnights and head back into your respective apartments, you and lando heading straight to bed after the long day. 

three in the morning and the pounding on your door is not from your dream. you and lando shuffle out of bed and towards the door, already knowing who is on the other side. your husband swings the door open, coming face to face with his teary-eyed son. max is standing there, clearly half asleep, and holding the boy up by his waist. 

“this belongs to you,” he mumbles out, pushing finn into lando’s arms and tossing his suitcase past you both and into your home. you both are too tired to even say goodnight, choosing instead to shut the door and head directly back to your bedroom.

“tomorrow morning finn,” you start as you all climb into bed together, “you’re cleaning and apologizing,”

“i know, momma. i sowwy,” he curls up beside lando, your husbands arm instinctively wrapping around his son.

“we’ll worry about that tomorrow, baby,” lando kisses his and your forehead’s, falling back into his sleep as quick as he was brought out of it. 

“uncle max had no food momma,” finn quietly admits, causing you to let out a few giggles. 

“goodnight, finn, dada and i are happy you’re back home,”

“me too, momma,”

-

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire us • l.n c.l ❞ i

part two

➪ life changed after you decided to go through it as a single woman, offering your daughter the best life she deserves, focusing on work, friends and family but damn, that guy.

➪ life is good and so is your 'friendship' with lando

➪ mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ book two is here & im so so sorry it took so long :( this takes place 2/3 years after desire. I kept the taglist from the first part of this series but let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore. Comments and feedback are welcome <3 **I fucked up with Shangai gp and Suzuka, please pretend you never saw that 😭

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y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by manon_roux, charles_leclerc and 578,982 others

y/nusername meeting manon's mini 👶🏻

tagged manon_roux

view all 1,212 comments

norrizz welcome to the world manon's mini! <3

milliexoxo he's here! Will drop by soon 💙

↳ manon_roux still in florida with your boy?

milliexoxo yessss ☺

logansargeant what's his name, logan?

manon_roux boy you wish :')

logiebear still not over the fact logan is a part of this silly ass friend group 😂

norry4 congrats to Manon & Alice 🍼

joris__trouche bienvenue petit garçon 💙 (welcome baby boy)

landooooo zoe would make a great big sister 👀

↳ carlandooo bet lando would love to volunteer 👀

landooooo lando give y/n a 2nd baby pls 😭

norrisgp what the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?

landonorris thanks for the nephew 💙

landonorris his name's lando right?

↳ alicedidier 🖕

landonorris classy

yukisan MANON HAD A BABY?!

↳ landoscar girl her and her wife have a whole football team already 💀

yukisan WIFE?!

charles_leclerc bébé, tu es déjà tellement aimé 👶🏻💙 (baby boy, you're so loved already)

leclerc_16 all these men in the comments having massive baby fever lmao

charlos16 I personally think Charles and y/n should give zoe a sibling

↳ norry4 leave them alone jfc

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y/nusername

📍 Australia

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 462,781 others

y/nusername straya 🇦🇺

view all 1,222 comments

oscarpiastri would've given you a tour if you'd told me you were here

↳ y/nusername I've been here before, I know my way around :')

oscarpiastri I guess what i'm trying to ask is; do you want to hang out?

y/nusername no, I only want to hang out with lily

oscarpiastri that's fair and totally understandable

landoscar I love them your honor 😭

norrizz just two girlie girls living their best lives 🥺

charles_leclerc c'est définitivement ta fille 😂 (definitely the your daughter)

↳ arthur_leclerc deux divas (two divas)

y/nusername tu devrais peut-être te regarder dans le miroir une seconde ;) (maybe you should look in the mirror for a second)

joris__trouche trois divas dont Arthur 😂 (three divas including Arthur)

y/nusername fais-en quatre parce que tu es le plus grand de tous 🤣 (make that four because you are the biggest one of them all)

norry4 can't wait to see your pretty face on TV again <3

milliexoxo thanks for the invite..

↳ y/nusername you're welcome 😘

logansarge mom abandoning her child again lol

hamilt44n pls continue to humble Danica this season 😂

sharl16 I'm counting 3 adorable koalas in this post 🐨

landonorris do you want to build a snowman?

↳ y/nusername no

landonorris oh ☹️

y/nlando please y'all still so cute :(

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y/nusername

liked by manon_roux, oscarpiastri and 413,678 other

y/nusername osc & co.

tagged: milliexoxo, oscarpiastri, landonorris

view all 1,319 comments

mrsnorris interesting

oscarpiastri knew I was being watched

norrisfour in the mclaren garage again? Interesting indeed 👀

↳ bott_ass she was in Oscar's side of the garage, calm your tits

norrizz yall need to chill out, she's with mclaren, ferrari and williams most of the time. She's friends with their drivers. Give it a break.

logansarge what the hell millie, a mclaren hoodie?! 😭

↳ milliexoxo I'm sorry, it was the first thing I found in y/n her suitcase!

landoscar it's alright bestie, we know it's your favorite team <3

milliexoxo don't tell my bf :(

charlos16 dinner with lando you say?

maxfnorris where's zoë?

↳ sharl16 she's got a dad too yknow?

maxfnorris I never see them together

sharl16 then you need a pair of glasses cause youre blind as shit, Charles loves to show off his daughter 💀

landonorris starting to feel you're a bit obsessed with osc

↳ y/nusername just a bit?

landonorris a bit too much

manon_roux same 🥰

y/nusername yeah, don't you just want to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair?

manon_roux i just want to kidnap him and put him in my basement

oscarpiastri this is getting weird now, should I be worried?

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y/nusername posted to their story

manon_roux replied to your story

manon_roux

What are you doing in London?

I mean I know why you're in London but want to see if you're going to be secretive about it again 😂

y/nusername

?

manon_roux

No shame in visiting the people you'll call your in laws in a couple of months 😉

y/nusername

Don't you have a newborn to look after?

manon_roux

He's taking a nap

If he let's me, I'll have 20-30 minutes to annoy you

Are you staying at his place?

y/nusername

I hope Noah keeps you up at night

manon_roux

He's got a one bedroom flat, right?

y/nusername

He's got a couch

manon_roux

lol and who's sleeping on it? You?

He's not letting you sleep on his couch and you're not letting him sleep on the couch either

y/nusername

People can sleep in the same bed without anything going on

We did it before

manon_roux

we never dated nor do we still have feelings for each other

y/nusername

I'm glad you know how I feel

manon_roux

Bubs you're an open book to me, it's written all over your face

Even your baby daddy is trying to get you two back together

y/nusername

what?

manon_roux

oh c'mon charles is trying so damn hard to get you and lando back together, don't play dumb with me 😂

you meeting up with mum and dad norris? 🥰

y/nusername

You've been hanging out with millie too much

manon_roux

and you've been hanging out with my wife too much because why are you ignoring my questions?

y/nusername

Suck my nonexistent dick babes

manon_roux

I tried for years babes but turns out your into British goblins :(

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseoki @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @devineendevers @celestialend @jsjcue @d3kstar @themislovesf1 @geehsf @mehrmonga @gentlemonsterworld

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew @mcmuppet @justdreamersdream

Desire taglist; @fangirl-dot-cm @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse @nerdreader @norwayxo @sunny44 @honeymoonelvis47

[musaslullaby]

Being a future bride is torture

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The wedding preparations are starting, and fans believe they’ve officially figured out who the princess is dating.

Face claim: People on Pinterest and Charles Leclerc.

Warning: Fluff, Instagram AU.

A/N: Maybe there will be a third part, i don't know.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸/

Ynofficial

Description: I’m so honored to introduce you to my future wife.

Liked by charles_leclerc, kellypiquet, and other 6.366.362.

imrebecca: I can’t wait for the big day, I love you so much.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I love you too.

imrebecca: No, I love you more. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: And I love you even more.

charles_leclerc: Please, stop.

georgerussell63: Don’t be jealous!

user45: Are the Ferrari WAG and Red Bull WAG best friends?

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Exactly, baby.

04_81: Aww, how cute!

carlossainz55: Rebecca is the most beautiful woman in the world.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Mine.

imrebecca: Hey, the annoying princess is beautiful too.

charles_leclerc: I can confirm that.

francisca.cgomes: Don’t leave out my little star.

carlossainz55: Let me rephrase: these two girls are the most beautiful women in the world.

carmenmmundt: Much better.

lilymhe: We’re watching you, Carlos.

maxverstappen1: Can I have the number of the girl in the red dress?

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Stop it, you're making me blush.

user56: They already act like a married couple.

Ynofficial: Married for twenty years.

lan_: So cute!

maxie_: I wonder where Kelly is right now.

Ynofficial: In the likes.

op81: Do you think they’re on good terms?

04_81: Rumor has it on Messenger that they had a fight.

ynqueen: Maybe.

Ynofficial

Description: We’ve picked the date but are still missing the location. We might end up getting married in the streets.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxvertappen1, and other 7.766.222

maxverstappen1: The streets of Monaco do have a certain charm.

Ynofficial: With the circuit in the background.

imrebecca: Let’s get married on a yacht! ❤️ Like to author

landonorris: Please no.

georgerussell63: No, please, otherwise Lando might throw up on me.

Ynofficial: Seems like an extra reason to do it.

charles_leclerc: We’ve figured out that Yn loves sunsets.

lilymhe: You’re just figuring that out now?

carmenmmundt: We’ve known for a while.

Ynofficial: Charles, you should be ashamed.

yourbrother: Actually, I didn’t know this either.

Ynofficial: I’d kick you out of the house.

yourbrother: But the house isn’t yours.

Ynofficial: I’ll ask Mom to do it. We all know who the favorite child is.

yourbrother: That’s not true.

Ynofficial: You can leave crying now.

user32: If you ever listen to us, Yn, I like the second location.

❤️ Like to author

race_: It gives off Rapunzel vibes. ❤️ Like to author

f1_: I can totally see Yn as Rapunzel. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I’d need to grow my hair and eat a magic flower.

user21: I love you, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Love you too.

user21: I’m dying.

Ynofficial: Hold on, I’ll catch you.

Imrebecca

Description: A glass of wine while we wait for Yn.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8,483,939.

Ynofficial: I won’t be satisfied with the next 20 dresses either.

kellypiquet: They all look beautiful on you, darling. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Thanks for your patience, hello Kelly.

user43: Wait, didn’t these two hate each other?

maxie_: I’m so confused now.

1_11: Maybe we got everything wrong.

mad_max: Impossible, she’s with Max.

cl16: And you invite his ex to pick out a wedding dress? ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Good observation.

user67: Yn, we can’t take this anymore.

user21: Stop messing with us.

Ynofficial: Why should I stop? I’m having fun.

francisca.cgomes: Your face doesn’t look happy at all.

Ynofficial: I still feel too much like a princess.

imrebecca: Off to the next boutique!

lilymhe: I’ll join as soon as I can. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I’ll wait for you.

Ynlife: You’re gorgeous, Yn.

Ynqueen_: It’s so strange seeing Yn so elegant.

Ynofficial: It feels weird to me too.

maxverstappen1: Can I suggest a tighter dress?

❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: Since when are you a fashion expert?

Ynofficial: Since when do you have the right to comment on my posts?

charles_leclerc: Your brother gave me his blessing.

user45: Poor Charles.

charles_: What do you mean, blessing?

Ynqueenofworld: New couple: Yn and Charles!

charles_leclerc

Description: Elegant men, baby.

Liked by maxverstappen1, Ynofficial, and other 6.862.261.

user32: Charles, no smoking!

Ynofficial: No one will want to kiss you after that.

charles_leclerc: I know someone who would.

Ynofficial: I think you’re wrong.

charlie: Are they flirting?

vroom: No, they’re not.

race_: Yn, what are you doing? You’re getting married!

04_81: Esteban’s proud face though.

lan_: I love the pink suit!

charles_: Can we talk about the pattern on Charles’s shirt?

georgerussell63: Men in tuxedos!

lewishamilton: Never seen them so elegant.

landonorris: Max’s casual photo is hilarious.

estebanocon: Looks like he’s tampering with Charles’s car brakes.

maxverstappen1: Who said I wasn’t?

Ynofficial: I’m surprised you didn’t crash since Charles was driving.

estebanocon: We came close.

carlossainz55: Charles can’t drive at normal speed.

charles_leclerc: You’re exaggerating.

user67: Max trying to get rid of the guy in love with his wife.

maxie_: Charles, back off!

ynqueen: Can’t believe they’re getting married soon!

max1__: Neither can I.

11_1_: Can’t wait!

f1star_: Guys, help! We’re not understanding anything Max is with Yn?

estebanocon: Max is laughing.

francisca.cgomes: So is Yn.

Ynofficial

Description: I didn’t think planning a wedding would be so difficult.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8,483,939.

francisca.cgomes: That’s why I brought you on vacation.

❤️ Like to author

lilymhe: You see Yn looking relaxed, but she’s super anxious inside.

Ynofficial: That’s not true!

kellypiquet: I found you at 2 PM looking for ways to decorate the restaurant.

carmenmmundt: Sweetie, there’s no shame in admitting you’re anxious about this. You’re with us now, away from Monaco and your fiancé, just enjoy it. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Carmen.

georgerussell63: Not fair, girls!

landonorris: We want to come too.

Ynofficial: Sorry, but no boys allowed.

carlossainz55: I don’t trust leaving all of you together alone.

charles_leclerc: Girls, I want Yn back home in one piece.

imrebecca: Not even a scratch! ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I have my personal bodyguard.

maxverstappen1: Don’t drink too much.

Ynofficial: You’re not here, so I’ll do whatever I want.

yourbrother: You should listen to him for once.

Ynofficial: Don’t ruin our vacation!

user45: How cute, they all want to protect Yn.

charles_: You need some rest, girl.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Being a future bride is torture.

maxie_: Oops, Max is going to be mad!

Ynofficial: Leave him alone, he’ll calm down eventually.

Yn_max: I find it so funny that Kelly is just relaxing on a lounge chair.

Ynofficial: Not for long, though.

francisca.cgomes: Let’s say she had her share of fun.

op81: Tell us more!

lan_: We need to know!

kellypiquet: They threw a bottle of ice-cold wine at me.

Ynofficial: Sorry, but I won’t apologize!

user21: Oh my god!

f1world: Poor thing!

race: It must have been fun!

Ynofficial: It was!

user67: So, Yn and Kelly are friends, meaning either Max isn’t engaged to Yn, or they broke up and stayed friends.

f1star_: Guys, I think it’s the second option.

ynlife: No, I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have taken her to pick out the wedding dress.

user1: I think Max and Yn are just friends.

maxieeee___: No way, they’re together!

Ynqueen: Okay, but then it wouldn’t make sense for Kelly to be part of the wedding preparations.

11_1max: Maybe she just wants to be a good friend.

Ynofficial: Or maybe you’re all just way off track.

user56: What???

f1racelover: Are we wrong about everything?

Ynandmax: Yn, we can’t take it anymore!

charles_leclerc

Description: This girl wants me dead.

Liked by Ynofficial, carlossainz55, and other 636.261.737

f1lover: I can't believe it, even Charles with the soft launch.

race_: I hate you, Charles.

charles_: Tell us right now who this girl is.

charlos: Also tell this girl we need you alive.

cl16: Look how he looks at her.

user32: In my life, I want someone to look at me like that.

Ynofficial: I could look at you like that.

maxverstappen1: You're creepy.

charles_leclerc: Let her dream.

Ynofficial: You know I can read you, right?

user98: Free abs.

user87: Let's thank this woman for the photo.

Ynofficial: Girls, I know Charles is handsome, but a bit of restraint.

user12: Says the girl who's with Max Verstappen.

landonorris: Dude, did you let her walk all over you?

charles_leclerc: What can I do?

Ynofficial: She appreciates your obedience.

user1: YN KNOWS HER.

Ynofficial: Probably.

f1world: Can you tell us about her?

user99: Please, we want to know something about her.

Ynofficial: No

georgerussell63: Ask "her" why she didn't invite me.

carlossainz55: I wish I had seen everything live.

Ynofficial: I had to help him fasten her bra.

lovef1: You were there?

Ynofficial: Oops.

maxverstappen1: Yn, it's time for you to leave.

Ynofficial: Goodbye!

user54: What the...?

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸/

Tag list

@bookishnerd1132 @gigicisneros @lunamelona @raizelchrysanderoctavius @chocolatepoetryfun @imherenows-blog @iamkaku @scopeiguess

[fallstaticexit]

The Art of Being Seen - a Nancy Landgraab story

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢- 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

Part III - Wife - Nancy recalls her life as a wife, mother, and businesswoman (we begin at the year 1998 and then time skip to 2007 and again to 2015). Nancy has chosen to put her past behind her and is working hard to continue elevating her family's business while raising two rambunctious boys with her husband and business partner, but is it all truly enough to keep her past and her desires at bay? Can she continue playing the perfect wife and mother when temptation shows up at her front door?

Trigger Warnings: infidelity, drug use, sex and nudity.

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [Geoffrey proposed our junior year of university. I said yes]

Nancy Narrates: [Not a minute after graduation, I was walking down the aisle. I was ready to become a wife]

Nancy Narrates: [Ready for my parents to look at me with pride in their eyes]

Nancy Narrates: [I was going to be great]

Nancy Narrates: [On that day, I made a vow to my best friend]

Nancy Narrates: [A promise to stand by his side, in sickness and in health]

Nancy Narrates: [To be true and faithful to him]

Nancy Narrates: [So help me God]

Nancy Narrates: [I decided to pack away my past and leave it all behind me. This was the life I chose. I chose to be good. Normal. I chose him, and all that came with it]

Geoffrey: Goinggg uuup!

Nancy: [laughs]

Nancy: [whispers] Hey, you’re not asleep, are you?

Geoffrey: [grumbles] M’sorry. Too drunk for more, I think.

Nancy: [chuckles] It’s fine. You can sleep.

Geoffrey: [sighs] Hey. I wanna have a buncha babies.

Nancy: Oh, so you’re really drunk then.

Geoffrey: M’serious. Want 4 boys, 4 girls. All name Geoffrey Jr. and Nancy Jr. At least one’s named is Zachary.

Nancy: Hey, listen here, lover boy. Let’s just enjoy this. Just you and me and us trying not to drown in the work my parents give us.

Geoffrey: And then babies?

Nancy: [hums] Maybe babies. Give me a year to think about it, ok?

Geoffrey: [sighs happily] I love you. My wife.

Nancy: I love you too.

Nancy Narrates: [I was elated. I was a woman who was capable of loving a man. I was a woman who was capable of making love. I’ve never felt more hopeful. My future never felt so bright-]

Nancy Narrates: [And just like that, the high was over]

Geoffrey: Hey, Nance? Are you missing work again today? Your mom has been really... erm, Queenie-ish the past week with you being out. I’m scared she’s going to actually bite me. [chuckles nervously]

Nancy: Damn you, Geoffrey! What happened to a year? It’s barely been 90 days!

Geoffrey: Wha-

Nancy: I should have known, you can barely pull out of the driveway properly!

Geoffrey: Wait, you’re pregnant?

Nancy: [scoffs] You don’t sound very sorry about it!

Geoffrey: You’re pregnant! I’m going to be a dad?!

Geoffrey: [sings] I’m your baby’s daaadddy!

Nancy: [sniffles, laughs] I can’t believe you did this. I could strangle you.

Geoffrey: Hey, we did this. Me and you.

Nancy: God, what are we going to do with a baby? I don’t even think I’ve ever met a baby.

Geoffrey: We got this, Nancy. It’s us, we’re talking about. We’ll be great!

Nancy Narrates: [Who would have thought; a wife and soon a mother. This was the life I chose]

-

Queenie: You should head home, Nancy. I’ve scheduled you a prenatal massage to your residence for this evening. I’ll have my intern take over your projects for the time being.

Nancy: Oh. Thank you, mother. That’s very kind of you.

Queenie: It’s the least I could do. You are carrying my grandson, after all.

Queenie: [murmurs] My lucky girl.

Nancy Narrates: [A wife, a mother, the perfect daughter]

-

Nancy: [howls]

Doctor: We’re going to give one big push, ok mom? You’re doing great! Ok, now push, Mrs. Landgraab!

Geoffrey: You are doing great, Nancy! Wow! You’re amazing! That’s it, just keep breathing. In and out. In and out-

Nancy: Aughhhh! Geoffrey, shut the fuck up!

Geoffrey: Okay!

Doctor: And push!

[infant wails]

Doctor: Congratulations mom and dad! A boy!

Nancy Narrates: [This was the life I chose]

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

hii I don’t know if you are doing requests but if you are could you please do one with toto Wolff x wife reader where she’s just given birth and her in-laws make fun of her or give her mean comments and she gets all upset but doesn’t tell toto to keep the family peace but he finds out and gets a tad upset at her for hiding it but he rips his family a new one please please!!

Unconditional Support

Word Count: 999

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

Summary: Y/n shares her vulnerability after giving birth, revealing the hurtful comments from Toto's family that make her question her worth, prompting Toto to confront them with fierce protectiveness

I don't speak Polish so if something isn't right pleas let me know so i can change it.

Also my requests are still open

______________________________________________________________

Toto stood at the window, the hospital room filled with a serene quiet. You rocked the baby gently in your arms, trying to focus on the peaceful moment, but your mind kept drifting back to the things his family had said. Every comment felt like a dagger, cutting deeper than you’d let yourself admit. You’d spent so much time second-guessing your own reactions, wondering if you were being too sensitive—just like your ex-friends and ex-boyfriend had always claimed.

But this felt different. You had just given birth. You were vulnerable, exposed, and instead of support, all you got was veiled judgment.

Toto turned around, sensing your unease. He crossed the room in a few strides, sitting beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly, his dark eyes filled with concern. "You’re not yourself."

You tried to smile, to push it down, but the weight of it all was pressing on you too hard. "I don’t know," you whispered. "I don’t want to make it a big deal. Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe I’m just being sensitive."

Toto frowned, his grip on your knee tightening slightly. "Sensitive about what?"

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But the memory of Eva’s voice, sharp and critical, wouldn’t leave your mind.

"Your mom…" you started slowly, "she said, *‘Ach, du siehst müde aus’* (Oh, you look tired), and I know I *am* tired, but the way she said it—it wasn’t just concern. It was like I was already failing somehow. Like I should be doing more, looking better. I’ve just had a baby, and instead of asking how I feel, she’s telling me I look bad."

Toto’s jaw clenched, but you continued, the words pouring out now.

"And then Katharina, she didn’t even say congratulations before she looked me up and down and said, *‘You’ll want to lose the baby weight quickly, right? There’s a Pilates instructor in Vienna…’* I know I’ve gained weight—of course I have, I just carried a child—but she made me feel like it’s a race to get rid of it. Like my worth is tied to how fast I look ‘normal’ again."

Your voice wavered, but you pushed on. "And Margit—she took the baby right out of my hands and said, *‘Das ist nicht richtig. Soll ich es dir zeigen?’* (That’s not right. Should I show you?) I was trying my best, and she acted like I didn’t even know how to hold my own baby. I already feel like I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and she just made me feel… useless."

Toto stood up, his face dark with anger. He started pacing, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "Why did you let them say those things to you?"

"I didn’t want to cause problems," you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the floor. "I thought… maybe I was just seeing it wrong, like I always do. Maybe I was interpreting everything too negatively again. But the more I think about it, the more I realize… it wasn’t okay. They made me feel small. Like I wasn’t good enough."

Toto stopped pacing, his expression hardening. "You were right. They were out of line. I’m not letting this slide."

Before you could stop him, he grabbed his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as he found his mother’s number.

"Toto, wait," you pleaded, "don’t make this worse—"

But his face was set, determined. He brought the phone to his ear, speaking in rapid Polish as soon as his mother picked up. "Mamo, musimy porozmawiać." (Mom, we need to talk.)

You could hear the faint sound of his mother’s voice on the other end, but Toto’s expression didn’t soften.

"Nie, nie później. Teraz." (No, not later. Now.)

He glanced at you, his eyes blazing with a protective fury. "Dlaczego mówili takie rzeczy do Y/n?" (Why did they say those things to Y/n?) His voice was cold, demanding answers.

You watched, feeling torn between relief and anxiety as Toto continued to tear into his mother over the phone. You couldn’t understand everything, but the tone was unmistakable—he was furious, and he wasn’t going to let this slide. He paced back and forth, his voice low and dangerous as he spoke in quick bursts of Polish, likely recounting every hurtful comment you had shared with him.

After a few moments, his voice softened slightly, but his anger was still clear. "Nie obchodzi mnie, czy miały dobre intencje. Nie pozwolę, żeby tak traktowali moją żonę." (I don’t care if they meant well. I won’t let them treat my wife like that.)

He paused, listening to his mother’s response, before he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "To musi się skończyć. Teraz." (This has to stop. Now.)

He hung up the phone, his face still tense, and turned back to you. "I’ve told them," he said, his voice softer now but still firm. "They won’t be speaking to you like that again."

You looked down, guilt flooding through you. "I didn’t mean for this to turn into a big thing…"

Toto knelt beside the bed, taking your hand in his. "It’s not your fault. They were out of line, and you deserve better. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I just didn’t want to cause problems. I was so scared I was overreacting."

Toto cupped your face gently, his thumb wiping away a tear that slipped down your cheek. "You’re not overreacting. You’re not being too sensitive. You’re my wife, the mother of our child, and no one gets to make you feel less than the incredible woman you are. Not even my family."

You let out a shaky breath, finally feeling the weight of their comments lift just a little. You had doubted yourself, but Toto was making sure you’d never have to doubt him.

[wonderjanga]

Marilyn Gets Revived

In this AU, the time bubble was formed in 62, Billy got his powers in 59, and the twin’s parents died in 58. There was also the fact that her body was found, but C.C.’s never was. So, as for how this works, I don’t particularly know. Maybe, since Fawcett is weird, the magic of the city revived her? You decide.

The point is, Marilyn Batson crawls out of her grave, Jason Todd style, and wanders the streets in the funeral dress she was buried in.

Marvel: *patrolling when he sees a woman, dirtied with bloodied hands* (from both crawling out of the grave and breaking the coffin)

Marilyn: *walking down the street, trying to get to get to Ebenezer’s house to ask what the hell is going on*

Marvel: *flies down* “Miss? Are you alright?”

Marilyn: “Oh uhm… Yes, I’m fine.” *looks up to Marvel and literally freezes when she sees her husband*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I can take you to the hospital. Your hands are bleeding heavily.” *doesn’t recognize her*

Marilyn: “C.C.?”

Marvel: “Huh?” *confused as to if she either said his dad’s name, or if she said ‘see see’*

Marilyn: “C.C. it’s me. What’s going on? Why’re you dressed like that?” *happy to see her husband even though she doesn’t know he’s not her husband*

Marvel: *computing* “Mo-” *looks around before leaning in to whisper* “You’re Marilyn Batson??” *sounds completely baffled* “Are you real?”

Marilyn: “Wha- Clarence Charles Batson, of course I’m real!”

Being called by his dad’s name made Billy’s mind blank. He didn’t really know what to do except take her to the Watchtower’s medbay because he isn’t going to take his mom to just any hospital. His mom deserves the best. And so, the JL were graced with the image of the eight foot five Cap, with a seven foot ten woman who looks like she’s been through hell and back. And yes, Marilyn is 7’10 because if Captain Marvel is a copy of C.C. Batson, he would’ve been 8’5 so he needs an almost equally as tall wife.

Marilyn: *hands bandaged* “So… What happened to archeology?”

Marvel: *awkward* “Oh right, uh… I’m not da-” *slowly looks over to see Flash and GL spying from the doorway*

Marilyn: *also looks over to them*

GL: *clears throat and walks over* “Who’s this lovely lady, hmm?”

Marvel: “This is Marilyn. Marilyn, that’s Green Lantern. The guy over there still lurking and stalking is Flash.”

Marilyn: *bright ahh smile* “It’s lovely to meet you. When did you become friends with my husband?”

Flash: *zooms over* “Husband?” *jaw is on the floor*

Marvel: “Mari-”

GL: *summons a metal clamp to shut Billy’s mouth* “Sooooo how long have you two been married?”

Marilyn: “Since we were nineteen. So twenty years!”

Flash: “Twenty years…?” *looks between Marilyn and Marvel* “Dude. How do you just forget to tell us that?!”

Marvel: “Uh…” *just grabs Marilyn, and dips out, dragging her to the zeta tubes*

Marilyn: “C.C. what’s wrong?”

Marvel: “Nothing at all. We just need to talk. Not here.”

Marilyn: “Okay…?”

So, Billy drags them to one of the buildings Billy and Mary live in. When Marilyn saw Mary she immediately hugged her baby.

Marilyn: “You’re so big, yet so tiny! You haven’t been eating enough have you?!” *hugging the life out of Mary*

Mary: *getting suffocated while crying*

Marilyn: “Has your father not been feeding you enough?” *glares over at Marvel*

Mary: “What? No, dad’s… dead.”

Marilyn: *slowly looks confused* “Then who…?”

Marvel: “Shazam.”

Billy: “Surprise…?”

Yeah, Marilyn spoiled your two with lots and lots and lots of motherly affection after this. The twins were just happy to have their mommy back.

Bonus:

Billy: “Shazam!”

Marilyn: *standing nearby, gets hit by stray lightning* “Huh…?”

Marilyn Batson now has a Marvel form and she gets to fight with her babies.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙i see u everywhere | 2023 grid˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pt1

pairing: 2023 f1 grid x nepo baby y/n prost reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: nepo baby spoiled girl tbh!!! her father is alain prost :-)

summary: in which she is famous for doing almost nothing and being best friends with f1 drivers

a/n: multiple parts tehe this is so fun tbh hope u enjoy i loved this request 😊

request!!!!: I would love a smau with reader who’s a nepo baby but is everyone’s fave nepo because she’s just living life aesthetically and the grid loves her and she’s hinting at a soft launch (idrc with which driver)

fc: gracie burns

my masterlist

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 •

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lance_stroll, and 738,193 others

yourusername get u a man that looks at u the way charles looks at the puppy

view all 11,103 comments

user4 get u a girl tht looks like y/n. period

yourusername that too

charles_leclerc why you sharing private moments

yourusername it's just a dog

charles_leclerc this is why you are single y/n

danielricciardo no it's actually because she keeps rejecting lando's advances

landonorris even i wouldn't want a dog hater

yourusername can you all piss off my post the reason im single is because im a feminist

charles_leclerc you weren't a feminist on friday night lance has the texts to prove it

yourusername im blocking you

user5 SHE IS SO INSANELY GORGEOUS

user6 someone leak lance's texts from friday night

lilymhe

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 523,182 others

lilymhe can you tell my girl came to visit

tagged: yourusername

view all 6,819 comments

alex_albon oh so this is why my girlfriend hasnt text me back

yourusername my bad

alex_albon someone please wife her up

danielricciardo @.landonorris that's ur cue mate

landonorris she keeps rejecting me don't rub it in i beg

lilymhe shut up everyone me & y/n are trying to make out i mean hang out

user7 i love them

user8 oh to be y/n prost

user9 does anyone else lowkey ship y/n & lando

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, 909,783 others

yourusername visiting my second fav ferrari driver in his home cuntry

view all 14,193 comments

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️

landonorris put some clothes on y/n!

danielricciardo jealousy jealousy

user10 omg lando is down bad for her

carlossainz55 second favourite??? huh this is not what you were saying last night

yourusername WHAT??!

landonorris ????

lance_stroll carlos sainz u dirty dog

carlossainz55 what!!! it was because i cooked her favourite dish

user11 omg i screamed at this...

user12 there r two types of ppl: y/n x lando shippers or y/n x carlos shippers

user13 no im a secret third thing.. a y/n x charles shipper

user14 why is it crickets for y/n x lance????

user15 y/n x daniel found dead

twitter ->

instagram ->

lance_stroll posted a story

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 827,102 others

danielricciardo pls invite me next time

user16 ugh i love her

user17 she is the prettiest girl in the world

landonorris put in a good word for me

user18 how does she do it fr

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, georgerussell63, and 698,293 others

yourusername girls girls girls

tagged: yourbff, lilymhe

view all 7,830 comments

lilymhe hot moms hot moms hot moms

yourbff u cant say we're moms ppl will think ur pregnant lily

yourusername no it's me😊 im a mother to the entire grid

user22 Omg not y/n calling the grid children

yukitsunoda0511 hi y/n

landonorris heyyy

danielricciardo what's up?

charles_leclerc hello y/n/n

yourbff wtf why is everyone down bad for you

yourusername they just want attention

user23 the comments 💀 so real

user24 who wants y/n more me or every single f1 driver

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourbff, oscarpiastri, and 385,231 others

user25 URMMM LANDO?

user26 GET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER

lilymhe dating rumours in 3, 2,...

landonorris delusional if anyone thinks i could pull y/n

yourbff how badly do u want her

landonorris no comments

user27 in my mind u & y/n have been together for 5 years and u got married recently

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, taylorswift, and 1021,183 others

yourusername met u at the riiight time

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user28 is that...... hear me out.... lando norris?

lilymhe ❤️

yourbff 🧡

user29 THE HEARTS I CANT

user30 Y/N ARE YOU EFFING SOFT LAUNCHING RIGHT NOW

user31 her soft launching after the undeniable gf material pic of her on lando's story yesterday???

danielricciardo aww y/n has a soft spot

yourusername not for you i dont

danielricciardo you have so much anger in you y/n

oscarpiastri i suggest therapy to her almost everyday

yourusername u ppl are so mean dont be surprised when im not around next season

landonorris dont make unfunny jokes y/n

user32 hmmmm 🧐

twitter ->

instagram ->

ynprostupdates

liked by user15, user34, and 39,293 others

ynprostupdates an instagram post from y/n today including what looks to be a soft launch picture, along with an instagram story posted by f1 mclaren driver lando norris last night has led to connections being made that the two are dating. this is 100% alleged with little further connections being made outside of flirty comments on y/n's social medias. other connections being made by fans include other f1 drivers charles leclerc, carlos sainz and oscar piastri. what are everyone's thoughts on y/n's potential new f1 man?

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user37 LOL stop this madness!!!

user38 i rly think it's someone we wouldn't expect at all

user39 me too if they were trying to be subtle about it they wouldnt be posting stories & flirting like with lando, this feels like a distraction from the truth so they can fly under the radar !!

user40 y/n seems more like the grid mother atp

user41 i would love for it to be charles besties to lovers🥹🥹

user42 imagine it's someone random she barely interacts with like max or pierre

yourusername hahah all will be revealed in time my lovelies

ynprostupdates omg y/n🥹 leak to us!!

twitter ->

THE END 🤍

[babygirl-riley]

Hii🌸 if u don't mind would u pls write for simon w fem reader who's having a difficult pregnancy??:'( if not that's ok, luv ur stuff btw🩷

In Sickness and Health

Simon’s heart breaks when watching going through your first pregnancy

A/N: Omg i watched my old co worked go through a hard pregnancy. It never looks easy no matter how it is going. I love this idea too ❤️

Warnings: sickness, pregnancy, hard pregnancy, underlining depression, arguments, marriage, soft!simon, husband!simon, dad!simon, fluff, little angst, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

When you found out you were pregnant, it was obvious. No period. Your cravings became intense. You threw up every fucking morning. Simon and you were excited that you were pregnant, people encouraging you that the morning sickness would pass. Instead. It came harder and longer. You cramped all the time, you bled once. Thinking you lost the baby when in fact you didn’t. Doctor reassured that it was normal in some women.

However, both of you didn’t expect the pregnancy to get harder than what people said it would have been. Your mom even said that what you are going through isn’t what she did. You are through your third trimester and nothing changed. Eventually your midwife came to put fluids in you since you couldn’t hold anything in. Throwing up was your new aesthetic. It got harder for you to work so you had to quit your job and stay home. Best friends with your toilet, you slept there day and night until your body grew bigger.

Simon was ordered from Price to stay home until the baby arrived and settled. Price heard from Simon about how the pregnancy has been not the best. You been up all night not being able to sleep from being too hot to throwing up to not being comfortable. Which caused Simon not to sleep, due to being worried about you. He would hold your hair up if you were too tired to even notice it was falling inside the toilet. Simon would wash your hair as you cried. Shushing you to keep you from having a panic attack.

You hated all of what was happening to you where you couldn’t enjoy being pregnant. Counting the days not to see your kid but to have her out. It was like you were hating the fact of everything no that was happening. Feeling like a curse then a miracle. Simon was the opposite even though he was heartbroken to see his love going through only hardship, the thought of having a mini both of you made him warm inside. Bringing it up once had you excited until you would hurl once more.

Simon would bend over backwards for anything you needed. Needed a bath Done. Needed a craving. Done and done again. Needed to be carried to the bed. Done. Needed a belly lift. Done. Anything was possible for Simon if it was for you. Nothing would stop him from helping you.

Was it perfect? Not always. Even when you both were tired and exhausted, you would fight, he would always be right by you. No matter what the fight was about, lately things that were ridiculous.

You both finished a fight and made up as he pet your damp hair, rubbing his other hand on your swollen belly. You were laying on his chest in bed, having your belly rest on the comfort of the mattress.

Sweat consumed you, your body working overboard on making your child and keeping you from not dying from everything else. It was silent before you sobbed. You were done, nothing for you. Your feet hurt. You felt like a whale. And your husband hated you. You’ve been only a bitch since you got pregnant and you were done.

You kept repeating in your head that he truly didn’t want to be here that you were just an excuse of a wife. That he never wanted to help you. That he wished you were gone. All because he didn’t get you your pebble ice. Simon had to leave the house for a while and what did he bring back? The stupid fucking ice. You called him a coward for leaving and not say anything about you said just for him to gift you?

Simon’s heart broke when your son burst out, your body shaking. Concern written on his face as he made your face turn to him. “Love what’s wrong?”

You cried harder as you laid your face in his shirt. “I want her out. And I feel terrible that I don’t want to do this anymore. That I have been a bitch. That I can’t stop throwing up. That this whole pregnancy hasn’t been what people have been saying.” He listened to you rubbing your back in soothing patterns. “I’ve been a terrible wife. I can’t believe I have been awful to you. You only been kind and generous and loving.”

Simon shook his head. “I could never do what you are doin’ dove,” He said quickly as he rubbed your shoulders. “This pregnancy is not been the best for ya.”

You sobbed harder as you clenched your hands into his shirt. Simon started to hush you quietly and soothingly. “You don’t deserve me.”

Simon froze from the comment, he used to say that to you at the beginning of your relationship. Telling you that he is a monster and that he would plague you with his darkness. That you were the angel and he was a demon, instead you showed him that he was the opposite. He was just lost in a broken world of his. Simon knew you were not like this. Not confident. Angry. Negative. No, you were the opposite of all of it.

Simon scooted so he would have you sit up against the frame. “Don’t you say that.” He said sternly.

You scoffed. “It’s true, I called you mean things. I said mean nasty things that are not true. Just over ice? Like how…”

“Stop,” He said stopping you dead in your tracks. “I know you didn’t mean it. Never have you showed me that. Baby,” He watched as your lips trembled, as your skin paled. “I know you love me, you are in pain just like I was. Let me help you bring yourself back as you make our child. You’re almost there love.”

You inhaled deeply as you looked away. “I’m sorry,” You turned to him and placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you Simon.”

Simon smiled and grabbed your hand kissing your knuckles. “I love you too. This is through sickness and health yeah? We promised each other that. So that is what gonna happen.”

You laid back down on him, your heart swelled with joy. You didn’t know how you got such an amazing husband. But all you knew is that he was your soulmate and you were his.

Another month went by and the baby was in distress from your body. She would be a month and half early which could lead into problems. However since your was fighting off too many things it wanted the baby to come out. You laid in the hospital bed as they induced you to push your baby girl out. You cried as Simon held his hand on yours and a cloth against your forehead.

“You got this mama,” The gynecologist announced looking up at you. “She is almost there!”

You looked at Simon concern written on your face and his. “It’s al’ight mamas. ‘M right here.” He whispered soothing you by brushing your damp strands back.

With a couple last pushes you heard a wail. Immediately relief went through your body as you laid all the way down into the bed. You panted as nurses and the doctor tended to the baby. Simon watched back and forth between you and the baby. “Go-Go see her.” You whispered gulping air.

You watched as he gave you a concerned look then nodded. You watched as he looked over the shoulders and smiled. Your heart fluttering. One of the nurses came to look over you. She said something but you couldn’t hear her. You felt nauseous and weak, lightheadedness coming in full swing.

The nurse called out as you felt your eyes roll. After that it was dark, you felt like actual sleep took hold. When you woke up, you were in a different room in the hospital, mouth was dry. When you looked over you saw Simon asleep with your baby girl against his bare chest.

You smiled. “They have been so cute,” You turned your head to see the doctor walking in. “How are you feeling?”

You hummed and coughed a bit. “Thirsty.”

“I bet. You had a blood clot form after giving birth to your baby girl. It can be common and could cause from your body being on overdrive to fix you. You are on blood thinners so take it easy. You have a healthy baby girl, she might be a little smaller than usual but that is expected from a early birth,” she explained looking over your vitals. “Your husband knows what to do. Just get to know your baby and rest.”

That you did, Simon once again by both you and both of your baby girl. Never have you felt so much relief and love. You smiled as Simon changed her diaper humming softly to her. In sickness and health. Is all you thought of as he gave you a kiss handing you your baby girl.

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── hanma loves his sweet wife, and he loves it even more when you’re barefoot and pregnant for him. but, when you complain he needs to lay of off you for a bit, he decides he's never going to fill you up again. unless you beg nicely, of course.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 + 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with hanma shuji

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── wife!reader, fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, reader is breastfeeding, unprotected s[e]x, oral s[e]x, established marriage, mentions of babies, shuji is obssessed with knocking us up, orgasm denial, future toman!shuji, hanma as a dad, mom!reader, loosely based off the characters in my series back to us

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

It's no secret that Hanma Shuji is a difficult man.

His subordinates, old gang members and even his boss slash best friend, Kisaki Tetta, would bet on saying the same. 

He was brash, violent and impulsive all rolled into one neatly pressed pinstripe suit and nicotine-roughened voice. The tattoos on the back of his hand shone more often than not with blood and gore than anything else, and he grew up on a steady diet of abuse and cheap thrills. 

But, despite all of his atrocities, he was your husband and you loved him.

Even if you were currently exasperated over his determination to knock you up again when you had just came back from the hospital 8 weeks ago.

“Shuji, you have to stop,” your pleading tone slowed the roll of his hips.

Frowning, Hanma took a hard pause from fucking you, the look on his face laced with both confusion and worry.

“Shit, baby,” he plucked your hand from between your legs where it was steadily stimulating your clit, kissing the rise of your knuckles. “Did I hurt you?” 

You shook your head, unable to voice out the anxiety clouding your mind. Shuji, however, was always patient with your unravelling thoughts, and gave you the space you needed to sort out your emotions. 

He had ceased every movement, waiting for you to speak.

“The babies,” you finally managed to mumble. “They’re still so young.” 

Referring to your two sons and daughter, your strange observation had him cocking his head to the side.

“Uh-huh. Shusei is eight, Shiori is two, and Shunki is three months old. Am I missing something here?” 

His tone was tainted with a sheen of frustration, and you could plainly hear the thoughts bouncing in his head: Did she really stop our love making just to ask about the kids?

“N-no,” you whispered, trying to get him to understand. “They’re still so young, Shuji. We… I don’t think we should have any more babies… for now.”

Your voice turned meek towards the end of your suggestion, and you braced yourself for Shuji’s uproar. If there was one thing your husband loved more than pleasing Kisaki and expensive cigars, it was the sight of you swollen and pretty with his babies.

And it wasn’t because of some weird masculine need to spread his seed thoroughly—Shuji actually enjoyed the pregnancy process together with you. 

The six foot five Reaper would shrug off other people’s judgement to get you anything you were craving for even if he was in the middle of a deadly meeting. He was present for every single one of his children’s ultrasounds without fail—except for Shusei’s, but that was a prickly past you had learned to make peace with. Shuji would follow you wherever you went if he wasn’t busy with work, and if he was, he always had a group of men shadowing your every movement, terrified that someone would hurt his precious family once his back was turned. 

As shocking as it was, the great Reaper of Tokyo was actually a fantastic family man. 

Never would anyone in a million years come to that conclusion, but it was the truth. Shuji lived and breathed to take care of his small family… and unfortunately, it came with the territory of knocking you up whenever he felt like it.

Which was currently the issue you were trying to get him to see.

“I need to rest, baby,” you murmured, cupping his face to ease the sting of disappointment you knew he was feeling. “I’ve been pushing out babies for the past three years. My body, it’s… it’s not what it used to be.” 

You gestured at your obvious stretch marks, at the cellulite speckling your thighs and abdomen. “It looks bad… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I felt like I needed to tell you this because I’m… I’m ovulating today.” 

Usually, those golden words would have Shuji seeing red for the whole evening. And you did notice your husband’s throat bobbing at the knowledge of your body being fertile and ready for his cum. 

But, he tried to understand where you were coming from, even if he didn’t like it. 

“Baby,” Shuji cooed, caressing your face with one large palm, inked knuckles grazing your wobbling lower lip. “You’re so fucking beautiful to me, don’t you know? I don’t care about what your body looks like. I love you for you. Plus—” he grabbed your breast fondly, squeezing it much to your gasp of surprise. “—I love how these tits have fed my babies.” He moved his hand lower to your hip, kneading the plush flesh with a playful grin. “And these fucking hips? Majestic, baby. I could live in between your thighs forever.”

His words made your cheeks burn hotly, and you struggled to not let him derail you. Focus on the end goal, Y/N. 

But, it wasn’t like you were going to lie to yourself—you wanted a huge family just like Shuji did. But, he had to understand about spacing out conception times so you didn’t feel like a big, ol’ baby making machine from the 1700s. 

“Shuji, that’s not what I’m saying,” you whined, pouting. He sighed, and rolled you over, his softening cock slipping out of your twitching heat. 

“What is it, darling?” he asked, intent on uncovering what’s got your thoughts in a twist. “If you’re worried I would find you unattractive, I won’t. Every time I remember I’m married to you, I get really nervous like… like, fuck—she’s still with me? I have the most beautiful woman as my wife?” His tone turned teasing, like it always did when he was trying to fluster you. “Give me a bit more credit, will you?”

Of course, you did, and you rolled your eyes, half in exasperation and half in spellbound charm for his sincere words.

“I know, baby,” you said, and took his face in your hands again, willing for him to understand. “But, I need you to promise me one thing—no getting me pregnant this year. Not until Shunki is at least two.” 

Shuji looked like you had just told him to jump off a cliff. His golden eyes widened with disbelief, mouth falling slack. 

“Baby—”

“I mean it, Shuji.”

And he knew you did. His sweet wife rarely sets such harsh boundaries, and he was coming to realise how much he had fucked up. 

“Are you angry with me?” 

The little glimmer of uncertainty and fear that you might leave him again reared its ugly head—something uncommon but understood when memories of what you both went through filled your uneasy mind.

“No, Shuji,” you took his face in your hands, tilting it close enough for your foreheads to touch. “I’m not. I love you. I just… want to not be pregnant for a bit.”

He hummed, the sound slightly fractured towards the end. You could tell Shuji hated this idea with every fibre of his being, but he wasn’t the one physically carrying any of the children. Despite how he had tried to make each of your pregnancies comfortable by constantly being at your beck and call, your reality was different. The swollen ankles, aching muscles, sleepless nights and horrifying cravings were all starting to catch up with you.

If you wanted to give Hanma a big family, you needed to take some breaks in between or else you would lose your mind.

“I get it,” he sighed, those brilliant golden eyes downcast. “It’s your body so it’s your choice. I understand, baby.”

You internally exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank you, baby,” you sealed your appreciation with a kiss, and Shuji returned the gesture back half-heartedly. Your husband was pouting like a kid whose candy got stolen, and you couldn’t resist a quiet chuckle at his expense.

“Look on the bright side—we could save up a little extra to take the kids for another holiday instead of buying diapers all the time.” 

He met your optimism with a sour expression. “Yeah—if condoms weren’t so damn expensive.”

You fixed him with a disapproving look. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Shuji rolled his eyes and then pinned you down into the bed with his bigger frame. “So, lemme get this straight—I can still fuck you, still cum in you… but you don’t want my babies?” 

His words ignited a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and you cursed how susceptible you were to your husband’s seduction. Shuji could turn you on simply by lowering his voice and fixing you with his melting stare.

You swallowed hard, unsure how to reply to him. “W-well, yes—”

“Okay, fine,” he mumbled sourly. “Won’t do it, then.” 

Sighing, you shook your head. “Okay, Shuji. Are you okay?” 

He fixed you with an unfathomable look, and you were sure he would say something sarcastic. But, all your husband did was pull you into his embrace, kissing your hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

Then, he mumbled, “I won’t cum in you tonight, baby. You can trust me on that.”

And, you did. Shuji had proven to you time and time again how he religiously kept his word. Everytime he said that you were the only one or how he only wanted you in his life, he backed it up with real actions—like spending an entire night awake to take care of Shiori when she was down with a flu while you got your much needed rest; your pregnancy with Shunki wearing you out more than usual. 

You should’ve known Shuji was a man of his words, but like two extremes, Shuji could never find a balance.

And this time, he took his promise overboard. 

“Shuji,” you sobbed, completely lost in your pleasure. “A-Ah, I’m close!” 

Your nails bit into his shoulders, the bathroom tiles shimmering in your periphery. Shuji had your knees pressed to your chest, rearranging your guts with languid strokes as the bath steam perfumed the air with lavender fragrance. 

Your back was pressed to the grand mirror, and his lips were on yours, drinking every honeyed moan you had to offer him. 

Hanging by a single thread of your sanity, you were close enough to taste your orgasm.

Shuji was steadily wrecking you, hellbent on bringing you past the threshold of pleasure that you both barely cared to keep it down.

His hoarse groans were swallowed by your eager mouth, and your every purr went straight to his overstimulated cock.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he groaned, crowding you further up the cool glass, intent on invading every inch of your space with his dominating presence. “Wanna hear you scream my name—w-wanna… ah, fuck, you don’t want t’get knocked up.”

At the mention of getting you pregnant again, you whined, shaking your head.

“D-don’t—please, Shu.” 

He shook his head, reassuring you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh. “I won’t doll, I won’t. You know I won’t.” 

Your syrupy hiccup was met with a soft, sympathetic kiss on your jaw. 

“Ssh, ssh, darling. Don’t worry your head off, okay—a-ah, oh f—you feel so good.” Shuji’s beautiful golden eyes were heavy with lust, every weighty snap of his hips pushing his shaft to rub your sensitive spots deeper, making you see stars.

“I’m gonna cum,” every fibre of your soul was aching for your husband, your body echoing the same feat—demanding for Shuji to fulfil your gnawing lust. “G-gah, I-I’m g-gonna cum, Shuji—”

“F-fuck, me too, doll—fuck, fuck, you gotta—shit, shit, m’cumming—fuck!” Your husband’s guttural groan right in your ear made your insides flutter around his thick length, and you were rapidly melting for him; first your bones turning jelly, your muscles screaming and then your pussy was pulsing around him, ready to drop over the sweet, sinful edg e—

Shuji yanked you back from the edge when he practically ripped his cock from your swollen depths, jerking his raw and red cock hard. You barely had time to cry out in despair when you felt a hot spray coating your pelvis and thighs. 

The room was spinning, your whited-out mind reemerging back from the fog as one singular thought blared loudly like a hurricane siren: Shuji denied my orgasm. 

The devil in question exhaled out a laugh which stirred the loose hairs stuck to your neck with sweat. “You alright, baby?” 

Your mouth fell open, about to whine out your displeasure, when he tilted your face up, handsome face completely suffused with love as he kissed you slow and deep.

“You should get cleaned up,” he murmured, lips a heated stroke from yours, and yet so far away.

“Shuji—”

“I have some documents to wrap up,” he pried himself free from the beckoning circle of your arms, his smile touched with regret.

All you could do was gawk at him, dumbfounded by how he brushed your arousal aside like it barely even mattered. This was out of character for the man you intimately knew as your husband. Shuji had once eaten you out until his jaw went numb just so he could feel you cum on his tongue—his blase attitude towards your denied orgasm didn’t make sense.

“H-hey, I didn’t cum yet—”

“Hmm?” he cut you off, a pinch in his brow. “What do you mean, baby?” 

Flushing in anger, you pried him back into your arms, jaw clenched in fury. “Don’t be an asshole, Shu. I didn’t cum yet and I was so close. You knew I was close—”

“Sheesh, okay,” Shuji gently disentangled your hands from his body, giving you a smug grin. “I know you’re always a bitch in heat for me, but I honestly thought you came already.” 

Your jaw fell open, the anger giving way to disbelief. Your husband quickly pecked your cheek, backing away on his long legs in preparation for your mounting wrath. 

Quickly hopping onto your feet, you fully intended to chase him down and make him get on his knees for being so mean to you, when a familiar cry over the baby monitor stopped you short.

Shuji had already disappeared into his office, and you were left with the selfish decision of marching in to give him a piece of your frazzled mind, or tending to your baby. In the end, your motherly instinct won out, and you quickly slipped on your night robe, wincing at how you had to wash it now that the material had touched your husband’s cum as you hurried down the hallway to Shunki’s room.

Your baby boy was red in the face, screaming at the top of his lungs to be fed. You didn’t hesitate to shrug off one shoulder of your robe, placating him with your milk as he latched on hungrily. You fed your son and rocked him gently, brushing the baby fuzz on his head to get him to calm down. Once Shunki had his fill, you burped and cuddled him, waiting for his eyes to slip close after a fulfilling feeding.

Setting your son down to sleep in the crib, you had to take a quick shower and hurry to tuck both Shiori and Shusei in.

Once the children were all asleep, you had almost forgotten about the simmering lust in your veins, until the reminder of your soiled robe in the hamper stopped you up short.

Shuji would be working till late tonight, and there was no chance of him tending to your needs.

Somehow, you sensed it was because of the boundary you placed on him a few days ago which incited your husband’s petty actions. Which was a shame, because you were about to suggest hopping back on the pill if he refused to wear a condom. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before; at least one of you had to be responsible for the family planning, and unfortunately, the onus seemed to fall on your shoulders. 

So, you trudged back to bed, too tired to deal with your arousal and hoping it would go away when morning came.

… Only, you couldn’t fall asleep.

You stayed awake, tossing and turning; wishing Shuji were here to hold you. 

Unbidden, you reached for his side of the bed and found it empty. 

Lying up, you rubbed your eyes, reaching for your thin cardigan. Even though you were angry with him, you still wanted his comfort and love. Without a second thought, you trudged into his office, startling him from his papers.

“Oh? Darling.” 

Like a child, you padded over to him, throwing yourself onto his lap and burying your face in his neck. 

Shuji held you close, inhaling the scent of lavender from your hair greedily. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Mhm,” you smacked his chest lightly. “‘Cause of you, dumbass.”

His deep laughter rumbled under your cheek. “What did I do now?”

“Don’t act stupid,” you grumbled under your breath. 

“Baby, I’m serious.”

This close to him, your senses were ignited and tingling; a rush of desire flooding south to stain your innocent cotton panties with a bone-deep need for your husband.

“You’re so mean, Shuji,” your whine reached his heated ears, and he strangled back a chuckle at your expense. Sensing your cresting arousal, he ran his rough palms down your back, warming you up under your thin night clothes. 

“Yeah, I guess I was. I didn’t make my baby cum. I’m a bad husband for that.” 

“Mhm hmm,” you petulantly agreed. Sitting straighter, you inched off his lap to perch on the edge of his desk. Parting your legs, you dangled your arousal right in front of him, the innocence on the curve of your brow contrasting vividly with the wet spot his sights immediately latched onto. “So, what’re you going to do to make it up to me?” 

His hollow chuckle sounded strained, even to his own ears. He wrapped an inked palm on your bare thigh, calloused thumb rubbing circles into the heated flesh. 

“I guess you have to show me, darling.” 

This was the thing about your husband; while you were given full reign on the house and his emotions, Shuji still held all the cards when it came to your body. You had barely cared before; he had always made sure to put your pleasure above anything else in his life. But, in this instant, when you could feel the tides of power shifting uncertainty from one stubborn end to another, the ball was in your court to determine how you wanted this night to end.

Shuji was giving you both an out and an in—waiting on the choice you were going to make.

Without a word, you nudged his hand away, and parted your thighs further, slowly inching down your panties. His pen dug into your side, and you impatiently shoved it away, the pesky item rolling down the desk to clatter onto the floor. 

Once your cunt was naked and dripping in front of him, you didn’t hesitate to rub your clit, literally taking your pleasure into your own hands.

“Is this how you wanted me to react?” you quietly goaded, a fire in your eyes he found breathtakingly beautiful. Shuji responded by sitting back into his chair to get a good look at you touching yourself, those golden eyes infuriatingly unreadable. “By forcing your hand? You’re sick, Shuji. J-just because I enforced a boundary, you—nghh—want to punish me.” 

Your circles turned jerky, the previously denied orgasm he didn’t give you rearing fully back to the surface. The room was sticky and hot, the air saturated with the smell of seduction and repressed need.

You couldn’t see it, but Shuji was holding tightly to the arms of his desk chair, outwardly patient while you got yourself off; inwardly dying to feel your walls choke his cock. 

However, he hesitated to react; in some sick, twisted sense, he wanted to see how far he could push you—how much you could take until you crumbled.

He was always the more active one in pursuing your physical pleasure while you allowed him to dominate you and lead you down endless carnal paths. This time, Shuji took one step back, letting you decide what you wanted—because to him, your words and actions weren’t matching. The woman who didn’t want him to breed her, was displaying her pussy fully just for him; begging him earlier this now to make her cum. Every part of you begged for him deep inside you, but he had to make sure this was what you truly wanted.

“Shuji,” your sweet whine made his cock throb. “God—f-fuck—must I beg you to touch me?”

Immediately he pushed your hand aside, cheek pressed to the inside of your thigh as he greedily inhaled your arousal. In hindsight, it was your fault for goading him, because for the next hour, Shuji ate you out until you were dripping onto his proposal papers, smearing Toman’s next steps around your sweaty, writhing body as you came again and again for your husband.

His tongue rubbed on your tender spots deep inside you, his nose pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing back and forth back and forth until you cried out gonna cum again Shu, g-gonna cum again—

He let you grind your pussy all over his face, let your hands twine in his hair to hold him in place while you found your unravelling for the third time tonight.

Once your thighs had stopped spasming, he eased back, lips glossy and lower chin drenched in your juices. 

Pulling you into his lap, Shuji’s hard cock strained against his slacks, surely leaking now from how long he had teased himself—held himself back from ravaging you like you deserved. But, even saints were humans who had a limit to their patience, and Shuji would never delude himself to believe he was a good man.

He was as rotten as they came—corrupted both inside and out. But, his love for you would always be his salvation. 

You brought out the man underneath the monster; only you were able to claw him out from the dark and into your arms. 

You were his salvation, and Shuji was going to make sure you were ruined for him. 

“Undress me.” 

Those hooded golden eyes pushed you to unbuckle his belt first, your shaky hands pressing down on his broad pecs, trembling when they unbuttoned his dress shirt. 

Shuji simply sat back, studying the adorable concentration scrunching your brow as you tried to quickly take what you wanted. His dress shirt slid down his scarred shoulders, and his cock finally sprang free from behind the restrictive material of his slacks. 

It was your turn to undress. You eased the flimsy silk nightgown from your shoulders, letting it fall in a pool by your waist. Shuji’s intensity threatened to swallow you whole—from the smouldering heat in his amber eyes to his parted lips, he was looking at you like you were a rare feast laid out for him.

Those large palms cupped your breasts, massaging your swollen nipples and toying with them until you winced. He lifted you up slightly to slide the pretty black nightgown fully off you, leaving you bare and vulnerable just for his scrutiny. 

Shuji’s lips were on yours, drowning you with his kisses that tasted of whisky and cloying impatience. You drank him in deeply, until you felt like your lungs would puncture and overflow. His tongue slipped past the shaky barrier of your mouth, intimately dancing with yours as you both savoured and teased each other.

“Shuji…” your breathless sigh never failed to get him light-headed. He loved how his name always sounded coming from your sacred lips. 

Cupping your face in his hands, he gently pecked your nose, cheeks and lips, while subtly nudging you further up his torso so his cock could brush your entrance. Your first gasp rang through the room, the sensation of his fat tip pushing past the tight muscle an experience you never wanted to give up.

Suddenly, this game of cat and mouse snapped your patience in half, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hot cum flooding your womb.

“Shuji…” your gasp was swallowed by his feral mouth on yours, kissing away any of your anticipated complaints.

But, you were done restricting your husband from the most tender parts of yourself. It was his right to defile you; to drive his hips deeper and deeper into you until you bore him the fruits of both your labours.

Sacrilege was never giving Hanma Shuji what he wanted when all he wanted was you.

“I need you…” 

Hanma’s ears pricked, hearing something more than desperation in your sweet request.

“Yeah, doll? What do you need?”

He would always have a sixth sense whenever you were struggling with piecing together your needs. Shuji wanted to count all of your insecurities and pin them onto the bruises of his body just so he could brush them softly whenever they started to hurt.

Lifting your glossy, tear-filled eyes, you hiccuped: “You.”

His chuckle brushed your parted mouth, nose grazing yours. “You already have me.”

“No,” you whined, bucking your hips to take him at a deeper angle. The both of you hissed out curses, the sloppy sounds of your pussy taking his dick growing louder and fervent. “No, I want you. A-all of you.”

The pricking in his ears turned into a roaring. Shuji couldn’t make out a maths equation for his life, but he was pretty sure he counted every cadence of desire in your tone which led him to one singular conclusion: you were begging to be bred.

A smile of pure triumph spread across his face, hidden in your hair. “Yeah?” he struggled to keep his voice from shaking in excitement. “But, you already have me, doll. What more could you want?” 

He meant to tease you; to goad you further until you broke and bent just for him.

Shuji needed to hear those words leaving your lips, all for the sake of his bruised ego.

“I… I need you.” Your soft bleat went straight to his heart. God, he was so fucking in love with you; no one could change that fact. Come hell or high water, Shuji was all fucking yours till the end. 

He kissed your temple, soft and unhurried with his thrusts. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Close. He was so close to breaking you.

You groaned, the sound filled with lust and frustration—a little bit of your insanity leaking through. “Shuji!” 

If your whine was meant to scare him into acting, all it did was make his bastard grin grow wider. Hanma kissed down your neck, placating your impatience with the sweet temptation of his lips. You tensed in his arms, ready to slip down the freefall. But, his hesitation was keeping you from fulfilling your high.

One minute turned into two. The inner restraint you harboured fraying at the edges, like a glass dome showing cracks in the middle. Rocked by an earthquake, your resolve was fracturing bit by bit. Shiny shards slipped down your cheeks when the axis tilted and spun but never broke you—and so, you decided to take a sledgehammer to your own stubbornness and shatter those walls.

“Inside!” Your cry could’ve woken up the neighbours if Shuji hadn’t smartly made his entire office soundproof. “I want you—ngh—inside!” 

Your husband didn’t waste a single second. Grabbing you by the plush fat of your thighs, he nudged you up in one swift move, spreading you across his wide, oak desk. Shuji’s snarl would’ve been terrifying if you weren’t so relieved to feel him going deeper, throwing your legs over his shoulders to touch that spot inside that always made you melt for him.

His face was between your breasts, peppering the jiggling flesh with soft kisses and sharp nips which made you squeal. Shuji used every bit of his strength to push his hips forward, over and over again until you saw stars in the back of your eyelids—your orgasm threatening to explode like the formation of a new universe.

You welcomed the implosion with open arms, your lips on his; the desk rattling and eventually groaning as the full effects of your passions ricocheted around the room. 

Shuji’s gritted cry of your name, and your delirious moan melted into a sloppy meeting of tongues and teeth, his warmth filling you up, right where he belonged in the deep embrace of your body. 

You held him close to your thrumming heart, feeling him soften and relax in your hold. 

For a long minute, neither of you spoke—Shuji was afraid to look up in case he crossed a line, and you were dazed, trying to recover from your earth-shattering release.

He felt your fingers scratching his scalp, and that little move was enough for him to summon a shred of courage to look you in the eye. Your smile was soft, if a little hazy, those pretty eyes latched onto him with a woozy affection. 

“Are you okay?” Shuji gripped your hand tightly in his, hoping he hadn’t scared you away again. 

But, you shook your head, beaming angelically at him. “I’m fine, Shu.”

His nickname and your relaxed countenance made some of the fears stop dancing in his mind. He heaved a sigh of relief, pressing his forehead to your neck and inhaling your sweet scent lightly.

How could you have ever denied your husband what he wanted whenever he looked at you with such pure love in his eyes?

Every fibre of his body echoed an affection which remained steadfast and sure—you were positive if it resulted in more love to bring into this household, you would welcome those blessings with open arms.

“What changed your mind?” 

You hummed, relaxing further into the unyielding wood, safe and sound in his embrace. 

“You.” 

Shuji furrowed his brow, glancing up into your serene expression. “Huh?” 

Your laughter was pure and unaffected. “I want only you, Shuji. How could I say ‘no’ to more babies if it means we have more proof of our love? We always wanted to build a big family, and I want to do that with you.” 

Unexpectedly, he felt a lump grow in his throat. “Doll, you don’t have to do this for me. It’s your body—”

You shushed his complaints, giving him a look. “I want this,” you emphasised. “I want this with you—forever. So, you better make sure we have enough money to send the kids to college, Shuji… because we’ll be paying tuition fees for a long time.”

His answering giggle made more sticky sweet love bloom in your soul. “You got it, doll. I’ll work my ass off for you. Break more rules for ya. Up the drug prices to squeeze everyone dry till our babies are big enough. I love you.” 

And you knew Shuji would keep his word—he was a man of integrity as much as he was rotten on the inside. A man of trust and fulfilment only for you. 

Just then, the baby monitor he kept in his desk crackled, and Shunki cried out for his nightly feed.

Both you and Shuji lurched into action, slipping on your clothes in record speed. Your baby boy’s cries even catalysed Shuji into sprinting down the hallways, and he was there first thanks to his longer legs, cradling his son close to his chest while you caught up. 

“Give him here,” you hummed, taking the wailing bundle from Shuji and slipping down your nightgown to press one plump nipple past his tiny lips. 

Shuji watched you feed his son with pure love in his eyes, leaning back against the old, chipped yellow crib with arms loosely perched on his side. Absorbing this scene and imprinting it onto his brain as the idea of his perfect version of heaven.

If fate would allow it, he wanted a moment like this with you for forever. 

Nevermind his dangerous occupation or the nature of his lifestyle. You, Shunki, Shusei and Shiori were the only specks of light in his otherwise fucked up world. Hanma would fight tooth and nail to keep every one of you safe, and he would put every dream of his own on hold just to see his little family happy.

As soon as that thought arose, the door to the nursery swung open, and Shiori crept in, curious by her two parents who were still awake. Hanma lifted her into his arms, cooing softly at his sleepy, baby girl. Shusei, too, ignored your rule for sleeping early on school nights to peek into Shunki’s room. His father called him over, and Shuji easily lifted his other baby boy into the seam of his side, cradling them both while you fed your youngest.

All three of them were piled onto the soft couch you often sat on as you pumped more milk for Shunki, and Shuji was drowsily recounting a story for his other two children.

“... the elephant then said to the fairy: I want to be a cat today, and the fairy—” 

You sat down next to him, Shunki still in your arms, and admired how both your children looked at their father with honest admiration and adoration in their twin golden eyes. 

Shusei, who was following the story with rapt attention, smirked at his sister.

“I told you the elephant became a cat but you didn’t believe me.” 

In answer, Shiori stuck out her tongue. “No!” 

They were both about to bicker when Shuji stopped them with one large palm on each of their tinier heads. “Kids, let’s not start to fight, yeah? You’ll wake your baby brother up.”

All three golden eyes latched onto the sleeping infant in your arms, and you smiled at them. “Your tou-chan’s right. Shunki is really grumpy at night when he doesn’t sleep well.” Levelling them a look, you had to play the stern parent when you realised Shuji wasn’t going to say a word about how they both were up past their bedtime.

“Speaking of, aren’t you two supposed to be asleep?” 

Cheekily, Shusei shook his head. “Can’t sleep, mama. Wanna see Shunki again.”

Like the adoring big brother he was, your oldest son clambered towards you, his head on your shoulder as he stared intently at his baby brother. Shiori, too, was curious and Shuji let her go, carefully helping her down the sofa so she could rest her head on your knee. Carefully, you untucked one arm to pat her messy bedhead, fondly smiling down at your daughter. 

Shunki gurgled and burped in his sleep, eliciting giggles from all four of you. 

“He’s like a doll,” Shusei murmured.

“A doll,” Shiori echoed, always following her brother’s lead. 

“Yeah,” Shuji leaned forward, taking a spare moment out of his busy day to have this time with his family. “The cutest doll. Makes you want to have another sibling, huh?” 

Shusei groused, “Mama just gave birth.”

Shiori giggled. “More, more.” 

Hanma smiled at his daughter’s excitement, knowing his middle child was the most excited for a baby sister so she wouldn’t be the only girl in the line-up.

“We’ll get you both another sister.”

Again, you were scandalised by Shuji’s blatant promise to the kids, like he did a year ago before Shunki’s conception. He was filling the children with hope, cornering your decision so you couldn’t change your mind, not when they were already this invested. 

What a scheming, cunning asshole.

“Maybe we can all ask papa to take us to Disney World when Shunki is a little older—would you want that? And your new sister can join, too. We’ll make papa carry all the bags.”

Your quick plan was met with pure excitement from both of your children, and Shunki nearly roused awake if you hadn’t clamped one hand around his ear to block out their hushed squeals.

“Disney World!” 

“Didney World!” 

Shuji winced, and you knew you were triumphant when he conceded letting his children clamber back into his lap, pawing at his clothes and face as they excitedly enthused about a trip which hadn't even happened yet.

As your husband shot you a look of exasperation, all you did was grin cheekily back at him, your baby still miraculously asleep in your arms.

All was perfect in the Hanmas’ house and your life.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

[thatnewweeb]

Baby Fever | My Hero Academia

Characters | Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Toya, Kirishima Eijiro

CW | mentions of pregnancy, suggestive content, reader agreeing to get pregnant, kinda jealousy in Bakugo's, kinda pressure in Midoriya's (from his mom) but also wanting it too

A/N | I love the idea of the boys having baby fever (even though not all of these are them having baby fever), I just think it's so cute

Bakugo Katsuki

Deku was having a kid?!

Katsuki was stunned as he held his phone to his ear, listening to his childhood friend and perpetual rival talking excitedly about the news his wife recently gave him. His grip tightens on the phone as he listens to the green haired man on the other side of the phone gushing about how excited he is.

As soon as Izuku hangs up, he calls out to you, his own wife. When you walk into the room, he walks over to you quickly, long strides leaving him stood very close to you, his arms caging you against the wall.

The look you give as you look up at him makes him smile softly, biting his lower lip a little. He tells you the news about Izuku's first child being on the way, which of course makes you excited, happy for your friends.

"We should have a baby too," he smirks slightly, whispering into your ear. When you give him a surprised, slightly confused look, he smirks, leaning down to kiss you. "C'mon, babe. I can't let that bastard get that far ahead of me. Gonna help me keep up?"

There's no way you could possibly say no when he speaks and looks at you like that. There's no time wasted in trying, him immediately taking you to your shared bed. He can't let that bastard Deku get too far ahead after all, can he?

Todoroki Shoto

Shoto was never really sure if he wanted to have a child or not. He didn't have the best childhood, and he was scared that he would end up being a bad parent.

He was still scared of that, he couldn't deny it, but when you're cuddling with him on the couch, watching television, he can't help but consider the idea whenever a child actor comes on the screen.

This weird feeling had been following him for months now. He found himself doing things he wouldn't usually, resting his hand on your stomach more when you're cuddling, imagining you clinging onto him, heavily pregnant and somehow looking more beautiful than ever.

He had no idea you were also having these thoughts. You hadn't brought it up because you knew he was a little hesitant about the idea. You figured you'd wait for him to bring up the topic first so he doesn't feel pressured, but now, every part of your being aching for a baby, you know you just can't wait any longer.

On one of his days off, you walk up to your fiancé and tell him to put a baby in you. The look on his face is both cute and hilarious. Despite how demanding your initial request was, the two of you sit and talk for a while, getting both of your feelings out there.

When you both agree that you both definitely want a baby, you decide you'll start trying as soon as the wedding is over.

Midoriya Izuku

It had been 4 months since you and Izuku had gotten married in a beautiful ceremony in front of your family and closest friends. Both your groom and your new mother-in-law cried a lot.

Speaking of Izuku's wonderful mother, you were visiting her one day, as you and your husband typically do at least once a week. You absolutely don't mind doing this, I mean it when I say Inko is wonderful, and that includes to you. She fully welcomed you into her little family.

"So, when am I getting a grandchild?"

The question comes out of nowhere, Izuku choking on the water he unfortunately happened to be drinking. "Mom!"

"What?" she asks with a smile. "You've been married for a little while now, surely that's the next step, right?"

Izuku laughs nervously, glancing at you briefly and squeezing your hand. "We don't know when that'll be happening yet."

The entirety of the rest of the time you spend at Inko's home that day, he can't take his mind off what his mom said. He hadn't really even thought about it since you got married, content with his life the way it is now. Now an idea has been planted in his head.

When you're back in the car, driving back to your own house, Izuku interrupts you while you're speaking (he didn't mean to, he was just so deep in thought that he didn't even realise you were talking). He asks if you want to have a baby, and it takes you almost no time to say you do.

Todoroki Toya

There's nothing you could think of that triggered your baby fever. You just wanted a baby, and you wanted one bad. You know your boyfriend will be a good dad, even if he doesn't seem to believe it.

He doesn't seem to believe that he has any kind of soft side. The big idiot obviously doesn't realise the way he acts with you, and you know that he'll be similar with your baby.

He wasn't even considering the idea before you brought it up to him. You weren't exactly subtle about it either, practically jumping on him and telling him to give you his baby. The demand shocks him, but there's something about hearing it come from your mouth that made him want it, made him feel like it would be okay for that to happen. He trusts you, and if that's what you think is best and what you want, he'll give you that.

There is no time wasted, Toya happily spending the rest of the night making sure that you'll get his baby as soon as possible.

Kirishima Eijiro

Eijiro has always liked kids, he thinks they're just adorable! How could he not like them? Being a pro hero means that there are so many children that look up to him, and it isn't an unusual occurrence for him to be swarmed by young fans while he's on patrol.

The baby fever really kicks in for him when a family of three come up to him while he's out on patrol, an excited baby babbling in his mother's arms as he reaches out towards the hero.

The baby's mother explains to him that he's her son's favourite hero. He always smiles and babbles and points whenever Red Riot is on television. It goes without saying that hearing that makes your boyfriend's soft heart melt.

As soon as they leave, he decides he'll have to bring this up with you as soon as he gets back to you. He's known for a while that he wants a baby, but after that reaction, he knows he has to bring it up to you.

Of course, he does bring it up to you very quickly when he gets home after patrol is over. It's pretty much the first thing he says to you when he walks through the door, picking you up and spinning you around when you agree to start trying. He wastes no time in starting to try for a baby with you.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Alpine Meeting Yours and Bucky’s Newborn Baby

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Sierra and Alpine

Summary: Alpine meets yours and Bucky’s newborn daughter.

Warnings: nothing but Fluff and cuteness

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“There’s mommy’s and daddy’s favorite fluffy princess.” Bucky coos at Alpine as she rubbed against Bucky’s legs. “Did you miss us?” He asks.

Alpine looks up at the two of you and meowed. She followed close behind you guys as you two went to the living room. You carefully sat down on the couch with yours and Bucky’s newborn baby girl Sierra in your arms. Bucky sat down next to you and Alpine jumped up on the arm of the couch, curious looking at Sierra.

“This is Sierra, Alpine. She’s going to be your new best friend.” You say softly.

You and Bucky watched closely as Alpine got on your lap to get a closer look at Sierra. Sierra made a cooing noise when Alpine’s whiskers tickled her tiny hand. Alpine softly nudged her head against Sierra’s hand before giving her little kisses on her little hand. Yours and Bucky’s hearts melted with cuteness as you two watched Alpine giving Sierra kisses. Alpine then moved herself to Bucky’s lap and made herself comfortable.

“It’s safe to say that Alpine is in love with Sierra.” Bucky says, gently petting Alpine.

Alpine jumped when Sierra started crying. She approached her to see what was wrong.

“I’ll make her a bottle.” Bucky says.

Bucky got up and went to the kitchen to make a bottle for Sierra while Alpine stayed in the living room, watching as you tried to get Sierra to stop crying.

“I’ll feed her.” He says, sitting down next to you.

You carefully placed Sierra in Bucky’s arms and watched as he fed her. Alpine curious tapped the bottle with her paw, wanting the milk that’s inside of it.

“No, no, Alpine.” Bucky coos at her. “This isn’t milk for kitties.” He tells her.

“I’ll get you some milk that you can drink.” You say, petting her.

You got up and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet and poured a decent amount in it. You went back to the living room and placed the small bowl on the floor next to the coffee table. Alpine jumped off the couch and went to the bowl of milk. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Alpine’s little tongue dip into the milk as she drank it. The next morning, Sierra woke up crying, wanting something to eat. You went to get up to feed her, but Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you back in bed.

“I’ll feed her, doll.” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“I can feed my baby, Bucky.” You say.

“I know you can, but you, my sweet doll, had a C-Section a few days ago and I can tell you’re still in pain. Besides you need your beauty sleep.” He says.

You looked at your husband and pouted, not wanting to argue with him. Bucky kissed your lips before getting up to check on Sierra. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when her cries slowly came to a stop. Bucky walked in the nursery to see Alpine in the crib with Sierra. He smiled widely.

“I see you’re doing your part, princess.” Bucky says, giving Alpine scratches behind her ears.

Alpine purred in response.

“You keep Sierra company while I make her a bottle, ok?” He says to Alpine.

Alpine looked at Bucky as if she understood what he was saying. Bucky went downstairs to the kitchen and made a bottle and went back to the nursery. He picked up Sierra and sat down in the rocking chair in her nursery to feed her. Alpine jumped out of the crib and jumped up onto the changing table to watch Bucky feed Sierra. A moment later, you walked in the nursery, smiling at the cuteness in front of you. Alpine meowed and jumped down from the changing table to greet you.

“Good morning, princess.” You smiled, reaching down to pet her. “Are you helping daddy with Sierra?” You asked her.

Alpine head butted your hand in response. You walked over to your husband and daughter, giving them a kiss on their foreheads. Alpine jumped back to her spot on the changing table.

“Our little family.” You say with a smile.

“Hmm.” Bucky hums, smiling.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll