#sleepy joe has got to go

[rabid-dog-steve-horn]

Listen up you ignorant sheep.

He lies about everything is the point of me posting this.

He didn't have the power himself to ban fracking cause the state and federal government have control of the land involved and the laws and the regulations they passed due to democrat climate change agenda which Joe Biden is a democrat and said he agrees with climate change many numerous times himself. Look that up. Strange how only democrat areas banned fracking, eh?

He didn't stop them, he didn't try to find any way to reach any compromises, he left them go ahead and push their agenda forward. Why? That's what democrats do.

Look online, I posted a few things to prove you jerks wrong and nobody said a word cause there's the proof. There's tons of stuff online about it across the country, but I'm from Pennsylvania so I found a few examples close to home. Believe me there's a shitload online. I only picked a few cause I shouldn't have to waste time looking shit up cause nobody else is willing to cause they're too busy posting TikTok videos of silly animals and crying on Facebook they had a bad hair day.

We were energy independent, we weren't relying on other countries for oil or fossil fuels of any kind until Joe Biden came in passing executive orders that reversed every single fucking thing Trump put into effect to better our country. And that's why Trump jokingly said he'd be a dictator on day one cause sleepy Joe did that exact same fucking thing to him & our entire fucking country.

You assholes must like paying more for gas and helping terrorist countries earn money to buy weapons to murder people. Where are we getting our oil from you idiots? Joe depleted our oil reserves and prevented the pipelines on American soil from being completed while letting Russia finish theirs. Then rejoined that Paris Agreement that Trump took us out of to be more energy independent and free from environmental climate regulation nonsense.

You like funding China so they gain power? They can frack & mine for minerals to build your fucking electric car batteries and cell phone batteries which we could be doing ourselves if not for the democrats.

You might wanna look online to learn gas and fossil fuels are used in a lot of everyday products not just to make your cars drivable and heat your homes.

Perhaps if you'd look things up and do some fucking research instead of playing candy crush and gambling online you'd realize how wrong the democrats really are.

[jangillman]

BREAKING: Prosecutors revealed to the jury that Hunter Biden didn't just sleep with his late brother Beau's wife Hallie, he also got her hooked on crack.

Hallie is set to testify in this case and mysteriously Joe Biden visited her a few days ago. Most likely trying to buy her silence about their family dealings

Dirty, low life scum bags, both father and son. They've turned one of the greatest countries in earth into a Worldwide laughing stock. 👹😡

[istesque]

[goldfades]

LATE-NIGHT CALLS ─── JOE BURROW

request: "I feel like Joe would always insist on calling you after every game even the late ones. Even if it’s just a sleepy, half-coherent conversation he refuses to go to bed without hearing your voice"

Joe's post-game ritual has always been the same: shake hands, hit the showers, face the press, and head home. But since the two of you started dating, he added a new step—one he never skips. No matter the hour, no matter how late the game runs or how exhausted he is from the rush of adrenaline and the strain of the field, he calls. Even if it’s the kind of late that makes your voice thick with sleep and your words slur together, he’ll still dial your number, waiting for the soft click of your sleepy “Hello?” on the other end.

You used to worry about his exhaustion, insisting he could wait until morning, but Joe’s stubbornness won out. It’s his way of winding down, he says, the easiest way to let the adrenaline taper off—to hear you, half-awake and warm under your blankets, murmuring about your day or teasing him for that one pass he wishes he’d thrown differently.

Tonight, the call comes later than usual, your phone buzzing on the nightstand as you squint at the clock—well past midnight. You know the routine by now, though. His name glows on the screen, and you don’t hesitate to answer, even if you’re barely awake yourself. Because somehow, even in those moments of barely-there conversation, there’s something grounding, something steady in the sound of his voice—low and sleepy and comfortable.

The phone buzzes again, and you let out a small sigh, rolling over in the sheets that are tangled around your legs. It’s late—way too late for anyone but him. You fumble for the phone, knocking your book off the nightstand in the process, and finally manage to answer on the last ring.

“Hey,” you say, voice thick with sleep, barely more than a mumble. Your eyes are still closed, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice before he even speaks.

“Hey,” he says, sounding tired but happy. There’s a warmth in his voice that makes you want to sink deeper into the blankets, your body relaxing even as you struggle to stay awake. You hear a faint rustling on his end of the line, the sound of him settling into whatever hotel bed or quiet corner he’s managed to find for this call.

“How’d it go?” you ask, even though you watched the whole game with half your attention, laptop open on your lap as you listened to the announcers shout his name. You already know he won. You can tell just by the way he’s breathing—steady and content, like the weight of the world isn’t pressing on his shoulders anymore.

“We got the win,” he says, and you can practically picture the satisfied grin tugging at his lips. “Defense pulled through. Felt good. Tired, though.” There’s a pause, just long enough for you to hear the creak of the bed as he stretches out, and you imagine him there, hair still damp from the shower, pillow propped against the headboard, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

“You sound tired,” you say, letting your own eyes drift shut again, his voice washing over you like a lullaby. He always sounds different after a game—softer, looser, the careful edges he keeps in place during the day falling away in the quiet of the night.

“Yeah,” he admits, a low chuckle humming in his throat. “Long night. But I’m good. Needed to call you first.” He says it like a fact, like calling you is as essential as breathing, and it makes something warm settle in your chest, even as you struggle to fight off sleep.

You know what he looks like right now—can see him so clearly it’s almost like you’re there. His face is flushed from the game, the last traces of exertion still lingering in his expression, and he’s got that soft, worn-out smile you only see when he’s alone with you. He’s probably half-reclined on some too-firm hotel bed, still wearing sweats and the hoodie he threw on over his jersey. You can picture the way his hand would brush over his face, rubbing at tired eyes, his fingers trailing down to the scruff along his jaw. He’s handsome in a way that doesn’t need effort, like he forgets sometimes that anyone’s looking.

“What’d you eat?” you ask, knowing he probably hasn’t had a proper meal yet. There’s a muffled sound, and you can almost see him shrug.

“Grabbed a sandwich at the stadium,” he says. “You know, the usual. But I’m not really hungry.” His voice is softer now, like he’s already sinking into the comfort of the call, the post-game rush fading away. There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything, just the quiet hum of the line connecting you, stretching across the miles.

His breathing evens out, and you know he’s lying back now, probably letting his eyes drift shut the way you are, letting the night pull him under. This is the quietest part of the day, the only time where everything seems to slow down, where it’s just you and him, your voices mingling in the spaces between words.

“Did you see the game?” he asks suddenly, and there’s a hint of teasing there, like he already knows the answer. He’s always known when you’re watching—can sense it in some unspoken way, even when you’re not at the stadium, cheering him on in person. You hum, the sound halfway between agreement and a sleepy sigh.

“Of course I did,” you say. “Saw that touchdown, too. You looked good out there.”

He chuckles, the sound low and deep, a bit self-conscious but pleased. “You think so?” he asks, his tone playful but with that slight, genuine curiosity you’ve come to love—like he still isn’t sure how you see him, even after all this time.

“Always,” you reply, and it’s true. Even when he’s a mess, jersey streaked with mud, hair wild from the helmet, he’s yours. There’s something honest about him on the field, something raw that you can’t help but admire. He doesn’t play with swagger—he plays with determination, with a kind of quiet, relentless grit that makes your chest tighten with pride.

“Wish you were here,” he murmurs, and there’s a softness to the words, a longing that cuts through the distance between you. You can hear the weight of it, the way he doesn’t mean for it to sound so heavy, but it does anyway.

“Me too,” you admit, turning onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You know he’s in some hotel room halfway across the country, the curtains drawn against the city lights, the room probably too cold for comfort.

And you’re here, in your own bed, miles apart but tethered by this line, by his voice, by the quiet spaces between breaths that are filled with the things neither of you say out loud.

It’s moments like this that make the distance feel bearable, moments where the miles don’t matter because it’s just you and him, lingering in the quiet of the night, holding on to the sound of each other’s voice like a promise.

“Get some sleep, Joey,” you say softly, knowing he won’t listen, that he’ll keep talking until he’s sure you’re drifting off, that he won’t hang up until he’s heard you yawn, heard the way your voice gets softer and softer until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

“Not yet,” he says, voice a bit firmer now, a smile tugging at the edges. “Just a few more minutes.”

You don’t argue, just let him fill the silence with the sound of his breath, the occasional murmur about a play or a moment you’d already forgotten, listening to the way his voice dips and slows, lulling you back to the edge of sleep. It’s the sound of home, you think, this quiet, late-night ritual that belongs only to the two of you—a secret shared in the dark, a comfort that’s become as essential as the game itself.

He keeps talking, his voice a low, steady hum, and you let yourself drift, knowing he’ll be there, knowing he won’t let you go until you’ve slipped back into the warmth of your dreams, his voice still echoing in the back of your mind long after you’ve hung up.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[v6quewrlds]

GOOD DAYS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀2.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀what gift do you get for a man who has the world at his fingertips? a really, really good day.

author's note⠀⁎⠀fluff to celebrate joey's 28th. warnings⠀⁎⠀crying, mentions of the jake paul mike tyson fight.

In the early morning light, the Cincinnati suburbs were habitually quiet. The calming silence was only broken by the occasional chirp of a bird or the distant sound of a neighbor's lawnmower. Inside Joe's sprawling home, he lay on his stomach in your plush, king-sized bed, his broad shoulders moving up and down in a steady rhythm as he quietly snored.

Your brown skin shuffled against the eggshell white comforter as you tried to slide away without disturbing him. But as soon as you moved, Joe's hand reached for your wrist, dragging you back into his grasp as you shrieked in response. Despite being a heavy sleeper, Joe always had a strange sixth sense that woke him up whenever you attempted to leave his warmth.

“Where do you think you're goin'?” he mumbled groggily, his blue eyes peeking open to find you pouting at him from underneath his arm.

You leaned in and kissed Joe's cheek, your voice soft with morning sweetness, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Joe's sleepy smile grew as he rolled over and pulled you closer, his hands feeling the fabric of your hoodie from your alma mater. “It’s too early for you to be sneakin' away from me. What are you up to?”

You chuckled and kissed him again, your face nestling into the crook of his neck as you whispered, “Just a little something for your birthday.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed playfully as he felt you trying to squirm out of his embrace. He tightened his grip and hummed skeptically, “Is that so?”

“I wanted to pamper you a little bit. Breakfast in bed, maybe?” you offered with a small smile, hoping to distract Joe with morning kisses and the promise of food.

“Mm, or you could stay here? Pamper me where it's warm and comfortable?” Joe's voice was a low rumble as he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly.

You rolled your eyes, picking up on the hidden innuendo in Joe's suggestion, but you were determined to stick to your plan. You shifted your weight, allowing Joe's head to rest on your chest as you ran your fingers through the soft strands of his messy hair. You whispered, “Later, maybe. Right now, I need to know how your knee's doing.”

Joe grunted, his hand reflexively moving to rub his left knee. “It's fine, just a little sore. Nothing too bad,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Your eyes searched his, knowing he was downplaying it. you had watched the game the night before, your heart in your throat every time he took a hit. “Joseph,” you warned, using the name that always made him squirm. “You need to be honest with me about these things. If it's bad, you need to tell me so I can take care of you properly."

Joe sighed, his hand moving from his knee to squeeze your thigh. “It's just a bruise, sweetheart. The trainer said I’ll be good to go in a few days.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced but deciding to let it go for now. You leaned over him to grab the bottle of painkillers and a water bottle from the nightstand. “Take these for now, and I'll get breakfast started. Try to get some sleep, Joey.”

Joe took the offered pills with a grateful smile, watching as you slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. You had insisted on cooking him breakfast yourself, despite his suggestion to order in from your favorite brunch place when he got in from his flight last night.

Joe settled back into the pillows, watching your retreating figure. The aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs began to waft into the bedroom, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Despite the pain in his knee, a sense of comfort washed over him knowing you were there to take care of him.

Meanwhile, you hummed to yourself in the kitchen, juggling pans and plates with an ease that belied the complexity of Joe's breakfast order. You had been planning this for weeks, eager to show your appreciation for his hard work and the sacrifices he made for his dreams. As you flipped the french toast just right, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement for the main surprise you had in store for him.

Once the breakfast was ready, you returned to the bedroom with a tray laden with food. You found Joe propped up against the headboard, his phone in hand as the sound of his parents' voices filled the room. You set the tray down gently on his lap, the aroma of cinnamon and butter floating through the air.

He looked up at you, reaching for you to return to bed, frowning slightly when you simply pressed a kiss to his temple and turned to leave the room again. He didn't dwell on it for too long, turning his attention back to his parents on FaceTime.

You retreated to the bathroom, your thoughts racing with excitement. You had been planning the next part of Joe's birthday surprise since the moment you had decided to put on this low-key, home-based celebration. You turned the tap on the bathtub, pouring in a generous amount of Epsom salts and bubble bath. The water began to froth and steam, filling the air with a calming scent of peppermint.

You knew Joe took his recovery days seriously, especially after a rough game, so you figured a warm bath would be perfect for his knee and aching muscles. You waited for Joe to finish his conversation with his parents, your smile growing wider as you listened to their laughter and shared stories. When the call ended, you poked your head into the room.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you called out, your voice bouncing off the walls with excitement. “Your bath's ready. No complaints.”

Joe groaned but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom with a grin he failed to suppress. You watched him carefully, your eyes tracking the movement of his injured knee. You knew he was in more pain than he let on, but you also knew that Joe was never one to make a fuss. Once Joe was undressed, you turned off the lights, allowing the natural light to flood in before leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Ja'Marr and Sam will be here in about an hour. I've got some errands to run, so just rest up, okay?” You called out as you left the bathroom.

Joe's voice echoed through the space, “You're the boss,” he joked, his smile fading into a grimace as he eased into the hot water. You knew he'd protest if you hovered too much, so you left him to soak while you started to clean up the kitchen.

Your mind raced with the final details of the surprise. The video montage you had been working on for the past two months had to be perfect. You had collected messages from everyone Joe cared about—from members of the Bengals organization to high school friends and family members—a testament to the love and support surrounding him. You hoped it would serve as a reminder that even on his toughest days, he wasn’t alone.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Sam, confirming his arrival. Ja'Marr, on the other hand, was running a few minutes "fashionably" late. You knew Joe would be thrilled to see two of his closest friends, especially on his birthday. You hoped that by inviting them over, they could keep Joe occupied while you set up your home theater for the nearly 30-minute-long video tribute you had painstakingly edited over the course of two months.

Ja'Marr, with his broad smile and infectious laugh, barged through the door a few minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand. “Happy birthday, Joey B!” he bellowed, the sound echoing through the hallways.

You emerged from the kitchen, pulling your hair into a ponytail as you gathered your purse and wallet to head out. “He should be down in a bit. I'm ordering from Jeff Ruby's, you guys want anything?”

As Ja'Marr and Sam took turns typing their orders into your notes, Joe emerged from his bath. He was now dressed in a comfortable pink hoodie and his Seinfeld sweats, thundering down the stairs, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw his friends. You noted the slight limp in his step but pushed aside your concern as he greeted them with enthusiastic handshakes and daps. You knew he was in good spirits, which was all that mattered for today.

“We still watching the fight?” Sam asked as you grabbed your keys from the counter.

Joe nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the Jake Paul v. Tyson fight they’d been dying to watch together. You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips, shaking your head in amusement. The fight had taken place nearly a month ago, but they had agreed to watch it again in greater detail as if there was much to miss the first time. But, you knew better than to stick around for the rewatch, knowing they'd be arguing over every jab, pausing and rewinding to analyze every hit.

“Alright, I'll be back in a few. You three behave yourselves,” you warned playfully, pointing a finger at them. “Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

Ja'Marr held up his hands in mock surrender, “I don't know what you're talkin' about, we're the perfect angels.”

you ignored him, simply calling out, “Sam, I'm trusting you.”

When you returned with the food, you found Joe and his friends engrossed in the fight, shouting at the TV as if they were ringside. You couldn't help but laugh at their passionate commentary and insistence they knew better than the professional boxers.

You quietly slipped upstairs to set up the final part of Joe’s birthday surprise. The video montage was ready to play on your home theater, and you had the room set with your favorite snacks and drinks, the ambiance perfect for a heartfelt moment. The anticipation grew as you thought about his reaction—how his face would light up when he saw the messages from his loved ones.

As you finished putting every thing in place, you heard Joe send Sam and Ja'Marr on their way, the fight having wrapped about an hour ago. You could feel your heart racing as you descended the stairs. Joe was waiting for you in the living room, his head bowed as he read through his texts, probably catching up on missed messages from his friends and family.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you approached him.

Joe looked up, his expression unreadable. “Just some birthday messages,” he said, his thumb scrolling through his phone. “Everyone's asking about my knee.”

Your eyes softened as you took in the weight of his words. He was always so private about his injuries, not wanting to be a burden on anyone. You knew he was trying to be strong, but you also knew that he needed this day to be about him, not football. You took a deep breath and announced, “You can respond tomorrow. I have one more surprise for you.”

Joe's curiosity piqued, and he followed you into the home theater, the room dimly lit and cozy as he took a seat. He glanced over his shoulder to see you approaching with a tiny, ridiculous party hat in hand.

“No.” Joe said firmly, eyeing the party hat with a disapproving squint.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “C’mon, it’s your birthday, you have to wear it!”

With a dramatic sigh, Joe allowed you to place the hat on his head, the elastic band snapping around his chin as you stepped back to admire your accessorizing touch. The hat was a neon pink monstrosity with a plume of feathers sticking out of the top. You giggled uncontrollably, pulling out a duplicate hat to put on yourself. The sight of the two of you with these absurd party hats brought a warmth to the room that Joe hadn’t felt in weeks. Joe couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Alright, alright, now that we're both looking like complete idiots, can we get on with this?” Joe teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he picked up the TV remote.

You grinned, taking a seat beside him. “Yes, sir, Mr. Grumpy Pants. But before we do, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you and how much everyone else does too.”

You took the remote from Joe and hit play on the video you had queued up. The screen flickered to life with a montage of photos and videos from Joe's life—his childhood, college days, and moments from his career. The first message was from Joe’s high school coach, who spoke about Joe’s unwavering dedication and talent on the field.

Joe's eyes grew misty as he watched, his chest swelling with pride and love. Each message brought a new face into your private sanctuary, sharing stories and well wishes. His parents talked about the first time they held him in their arms, and his brothers reminisced about the fierceness they recognized in his eyes from such a young age. His teammates praised his leadership and friendship, sharing inside jokes that made Joe's laugh echo through the room. You had managed to capture every aspect of his life, every person who had shaped him into the man he was today.

The video went on, each message more heartfelt than the last. You watched Joe's reaction, your heart swelling with joy at the sight of his tear-filled eyes and the occasional sniffle he tried to hide. When the video reached its final moments, you took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The screen filled with a picture of the two of you from your first date, both smiling awkwardly but eyes hopeful.

Your face appeared last on the screen, your eyes shining with love as you recorded your message.

“Happy Birthday, Joe. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life, for making me laugh, and for being the most dedicated, disciplined person I know. There's no one on Earth who deserves this love and appreciation more than you do. You inspire me every single day, and I am so proud of you. Everything you've accomplished in only 28 years is nothing short of incredible. And even though we all know you’re going to do so much more, we'll still celebrate all the wins, even the small ones. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I'm here for every hit, every victory, and every moment in between. Happy birthday, my love.”

Joe looked over at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned over, pulling you into a tight embrace, whispering into your ear, “Thank you for this. I had no idea you were going through this much trouble putting this together.”

You leaned into him, your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his heart pound against your chest. You whispered back, “It's nothing compared to what you do every day, Joe. You give everything for the people you love, and I just wanted to make sure you knew how much you're loved and cherished in return.”

You sat there, holding each other, as the final message from the video played out—a group of guys from his high school football team shouting “Happy Birthday, Joe!” in unison, their faces a blur of happiness. The screen went black, and the room grew quiet except for the soft background music that you had chosen for the end credits.

Joe pulled away, swiping at his eyes, trying to compose himself. You handed him a box of tissues from the side table, your own eyes misty with happy tears. “Was it okay? Did you like it?” you asked, your voice gentle.

“It's perfect, babe. Thank you,” Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. He took a tissue and dabbed at his eyes, trying to regain his composure. You sat next to him, your hand on the back of his neck, gently rubbing circles. You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the video’s messages lingering in the air.

Then, as if on cue, Joe’s stomach rumbled, and you both burst into laughter. It was a welcome relief from the emotional intensity of the video. You picked up the remote and paused the video, standing up. “I got your favorite from Jeff Ruby's. It's all ready for you in the dining room.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Joe murmured, following you out of the theater, the party hat still atop his head, taking your hand in his as you made their way back to the dining room.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “You’re worth every second of it and more.” Joe leaned down, kissing you softly on the forehead before allowing you to lead him to the dining room.

[starsinthesky5]

What about cute lowkey things songbird does to show her love to Joe??

a/n: follow-up to this blurb ask!

warnings: nsfw content below

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

aside from writing the loviest love songs about him...

she gives him those sleepy scalp massages

when he’s slumped on the couch after a long day—pads still on his thighs, hoodie tugged up around his waist

she knows before he even says a word. she slides in behind him, lets his head fall into her lap, and starts dragging her nails gently through his hair. slow, rhythmic, scratching lightly at his scalp until his whole body goes still

sometimes he sighs, sometimes he groans, sometimes he falls asleep right there, cheek pressed to her thigh, totally gone. she never rushes it. even if her fingers cramp

even if the show they were watching ends. she’ll just sit with him, keep her hands in his hair, and press soft kisses to his temple like i’ve got you. always

she keeps her hand on his back when they’re in crowds.

just a soft, steady palm at the center of his back...between his shoulder blades, calming him

she knows he’s good with people but not so good with attention, and even the strongest get overwhelmed. so when the flashes are going off or fans are pressing in too close, she touches him. not clingy, not possessive, just present

and if she feels him tense under her hand? she leans in close, brushes her mouth near his ear and whispers something only he can hear—sometimes funny, sometimes sweet, sometimes a simple “breathe, baby. i’ve got you,”

she stretches him out after practice

even when she’s tired. even when she’s been running around all day. she’ll kneel beside him with that focused little crease in her brow, guiding his legs, pressing into tight muscles with careful hands.

“okay, breathe out—good…too much? okay, i’ll ease up,”

she’s got a knack for finding the exact spot that needs attention, and joe, even with all his height and bulk and quarterback bravado, lets himself melt under her touch

half the time he ends up dozing off on the mat while she gently works out the tension in his shoulders, mumbling her name like it’s the only word he knows

she wears his favorite lingerie under the most boring outfits

it’ll be a lazy tuesday consisting of sweats, an old hoodie, hair up in a messy bun, and he’s got no idea what’s coming. until she reaches for the remote and the hem of her sweatshirt rides up just enough to show a flash of that lacy black strap he loves

his eyes go wide. her smile? innocent as sin. “what? this old thing?” and suddenly he’s canceling plans

she’ll fold laundry with her back to him, bent just enough, letting the lace peek out again—until he’s behind her, hoodie fisted in his hand, growling in her ear, “you really gonna tease me like that, baby?” and she just hums, smug and soft and already breathless

she kisses down his stomach when he’s tired

he’s sprawled on the bed, shirt bunched under his arms, breath still ragged from a hard day. she straddles his hips, starts at his chest, trailing warm, open-mouthed kisses down his stomach—slow and soft, her hands gliding over his sides, nails teasing lightly

he twitches under her touch, groans when she nips at the sharp cut of his hip. “just let me take care of you, baby,” she whispers, already working her way lower

when he tries to reach for her, she presses his wrists down, shakes her head—“uh-uh. tonight, you don’t lift a finger,”

she scratches his scalp while he’s going down on her

because she has to touch him

has to feel every inch of him. his mouth is between her thighs, tongue working slowly and skillfully, and her hands find his hair, burying in it, tugging when he hits that perfect spot

“fuck, joe,” she gasps, thighs tightening around his head, hips lifting to chase his mouth. her nails scratch gently at his scalp, not to guide—just to praise. she will always make it known how much she loves it...loves him

he moans against her, loving it, loving her, and when she sobs out “you’re so good, baby. fuck—just like that,” he doubles down, mouth relentless, hands holding her open like she’s the only thing that matters

she leaves him marked

she doesn’t always mean to. but sometimes she gets greedy. her mouth finds the open skin by his collarbone, her teeth sink in a little too hard, and suddenly there’s a blooming red mark on his skin

she’ll press soft kisses to it after, murmuring “sorry, couldn’t help it,” and joe? he just smirks when he catches a glimpse in the mirror, pulling his hoodie up a little higher to hide it. but he touches it absently during meetings. tugs at his collar in the locker room. because it’s hers

he is hers

she loves riding him when he’s all worked up and sore

especially after games. he’s still buzzing with adrenaline, sore and muscles tight, and she knows exactly how to help

she’ll guide him onto the bed, climb into his lap, and take her time. slow, deep rolls of her hips that make his head fall back and his fingers dig into her waist

“you’re so easy for me,” she whispers, breath ghosting against his lips, “all i have to do is get on top and you’re gone,” and he is—eyes hazy and glossed over from pleasure, voice raspy, begging her not to stop

he watches her like she hung the stars, like she’s salvation in human form, and when he finally breaks, he breaks hard

she knows when to drop the bravado and just hold him

when he’s hurting—physically or emotionally—she doesn’t ask questions

she just opens her arms. lets him bury his face in her neck, wraps herself around him like a blanket, rubs slow circles into his back until he relaxes. no words. just presence. just safety. just her

she does little skincare rituals on him even when he resists

“joey, you were rubbing your face all game, you’re dry as hell, c’mere,”

she’ll straddle him on the couch and dab eye cream under his lashes, tap moisturizer into his cheeks while he fake-grumbles, internally enjoying the way his skin was feeling cooler by the second

“you love it,” she teases, rubbing his temples with her thumbs until his eyes flutter shut. and he does love it. no one’s ever taken care of him like this. only her ;)

[padmesweetheart]

A London Made of Us

Pairing: Kit Connor x Reader

Genre: Pure fluff / established relationship / sightseeing in London

The morning starts like a dream.

You wake up to the softest touch on your cheek Kit’s knuckles brushing your skin, his sleepy smile already in full bloom. The sky beyond the windows is a hazy blue, the kind London specializes in cloudy with the occasional golden glow peeking through, like the sun is playing hide and seek.

“Rise and shine, love,” Kit murmurs, his voice rough with sleep as he dips his face close to yours. “I’ve got a surprise day planned. No phones. No work. Just you and me, yeah?”

You blink up at him, still cocooned in the soft duvet of his flat, your heart already melting. “A whole day? Just us?”

“All yours,” he says, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “London’s waiting My love .”

—————-

Stop One: Borough Market

The smell of fresh bread and sizzling food stalls wraps around you like a warm scarf. Kit’s hand is tucked firmly in yours as you wander past bakeries and flower stalls and an old man selling homemade jams. He insists on buying you a croissant (“for strength,” he claims), and you end up feeding each other flaky bites as you go.

You snap a silly picture of him holding up a sourdough loaf like it’s a trophy, and he grins at the camera, cheeks dusted with powdered sugar.

“That one’s going on the fridge,” you laugh.

He shrugs, smug. “I look good next to carbs.”

———-

Stop Two: South Bank Walk

You walk along the Thames, the wind playing with Kit’s hair as he points out every little detail “That’s where I used to sneak off with Joe after auditions,” he says, or, “That cafe over there has the best oat milk lattes in the city. You’re trying one. It’s law.”

He buys you a coffee and wraps both your hands around the cup because “You always forget gloves.”

When the London Eye looms in the distance, Kit tugs you toward it. “You’ve never been, have you?”

You shake your head, a little bashful. “I always thought it was too touristy.”

“Then we’re doing it. For the vibes.”

—————

Stop Three: London Eye

You’re in one of the pods, hovering high above the city. Kit stands behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. The view is stunning rooftops stretching into the distance, Big Ben standing tall, and the winding Thames like a silver ribbon.

But you can’t stop looking at his reflection in the glass, the way his eyes never leave you.

“This is my favorite view,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “All of London can wait.”

You blush, ducking your head, and he just presses a kiss to your temple and holds you tighter.

————

Stop Four: Bookstore Date in Notting Hill

Kit knows all the cozy, off-the-beaten-path places, and he takes you to a little shop tucked between rows of townhouses, its wooden sign hanging crooked over the door. Inside, it smells like old pages and rain.

You both split up to find a book for each other something that “reminds me of you.”

Kit returns with a worn poetry collection, and as he hands it to you, he says, “Because every line in here is soft, and smart, and full of feeling. Like you.”

You pretend you’re not crying. He doesn’t call you out on it—he just pulls you into a hug and sways a little, like you’re dancing in the quiet.

——————

Stop Five: Picnic in Hyde Park

He surprises you with a blanket, snacks he packed himself (even labeled them with cute sticky notes), and your favorite juice in a glass bottle.

You sit under a blooming tree, sharing strawberries and little stories from your childhoods. Kit lies back with his head in your lap, staring up at the sky while you card your fingers through his hair.

“I think I could live in this moment forever,” he murmurs, looking up at you like you hung the stars.

“Me too,” you whisper.

And he reaches up, tugging you down for the softest kiss slow and sweet and so full of love it hurts a little.

————

Stop Six: Home Again (But Not the End)

Back at his flat, you both collapse onto the couch, tangled in each other. Your feet ache, your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you’ve never felt so full.

Kit pulls the blanket over you, settling in close. His hand finds yours automatically, and he brings it to his lips for one last kiss.

“I love showing you my city,” he murmurs.

“I love seeing it through your eyes,” you reply.

And just before sleep tugs you under, you hear him whisper:

“You’re my favorite view in the whole world.”

THE END

(Or maybe just the beginning.)

[honeydippedfiction]

6 Months of Love, Forever to Go

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Synopsis: On a quiet spring morning, Angel reflects on how much life has changed in six short months. Between tender moments, shared laughter, and quiet milestones, she and Joe navigate the beautifully messy rhythm of new parenthood. With warmth, humor, and a love that deepens in the everyday, this story captures what it means to build a life together—one sleepy smile, one whispered promise, and one heartbeat at a time.

Warnings: emotional themes, growing pains?

WC: 4.2k

A/N: there's no 31 days in April I realized (little baby Z is a Halloween baby. Miss October 31st) This has been in the drafts for a hot minute, forgive me.

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The early morning light spilled into the Burrow home like a warm embrace, soft and golden as it stretched across the hardwood floors and gently kissed the pale walls of the nursery. April 30th, 2025. The date lingered in Angel’s mind like a whisper, echoing louder the longer she sat in stillness. It was a date she’d circled on the calendar in pink Sharpie months ago. A milestone.

Six months.

Half a year since the night her world shifted with the weight of 7 pounds, 12 ounces of love swaddled in hospital flannel.

Angel sat cross-legged on the plush ivory rug in their bedroom, wearing her silk robe, the champagne-colored one Joe always liked to slide his hand beneath, now loosely tied and slipping off one shoulder. Her phone was in one hand, the baby monitor app open in the other, showing a quiet screen. Zariyah lays still fast asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in that steady, sleepy rhythm, lashes dark against her warm brown cheeks, a pacifier nestled between rosebud lips.

The house was quiet, but Angel’s mind was full. A film reel of memories played behind her eyes—grainy, golden, sacred.

Her thumb swiped slowly through her camera roll, each photo a timestamp pressed into her heart. Zariyah’s very first cry. The way her little fist gripped Angel’s finger in those first trembling moments of life. Joe’s face—worn out and wide-eyed and completely undone—as he cradled both of them in a hospital chair, hoodie half zipped, tears unapologetic in his lashes.

She stopped at a video from November. Zariyah was only a few days old, and Joe was pacing their bedroom, shirtless, hair wild from sleep, gently patting her back in that uncoordinated sway new dads had.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby girl. Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s got you.”

Angel blinked fast and set the phone down, pressing her palm over her heart like it might still the ache building in her chest.

The nights in those first few weeks had blurred together—2AM feedings in the glow of the moonlight, her body still sore and healing, Joe rubbing her feet while she nursed. Skin-to-skin naps on the couch, Zariyah’s tiny body curled against Angel’s chest while Joe made them grilled cheese and protein shakes. Lullabies hummed into the quiet, whispered prayers when they didn’t know what they were doing but did it anyway.

She remembered Joe’s first diaper change vividly—hands trembling as he fumbled with the tabs, muttering curses under his breath.

“This little ass just spit up on me and peed. Is that normal? That can’t be normal.”

Angel had been doubled over with laughter, phone in hand, catching every second.

Or Zariyah’s first bath. Angel holding the baby while Joe tried to work the faucet attachment, only to end up soaking the entire counter—and himself.

“Okay, she’s slippery—Angel, I swear she’s built like a damn bar of soap!”

Now, Zariyah was sitting up on her own, pushing up to her elbows, smacking her hands on the tray of her high chair like she owned the place. Her bottom teeth had just poked through, and she’d started babbling “dada” and “buh buh” like she knew they were magic words.

“She was just in my belly,” Angel whispered aloud, voice tight with emotion. “She was just in there…”

Behind her, soft footsteps padded across the floor.

“You alright?” Joe’s voice, low and warm, broke the quiet.

Angel didn’t turn. She didn’t have to. She knew it was him—could feel the way the room settled with his presence.

He leaned against the doorway in grey sweatpants and a cream hoodie, barefoot, curls still damp from a shower, the scent of his lotion mixing with faint hints of Zariyah’s baby shampoo that clung to him like perfume.

Angel nodded slowly, wiping a tear from beneath her eye before it could fall. “Yeah. I just… I was looking at pictures.”

Joe crossed the room, knelt beside her, and gently pulled her into his arms. “Six months,” he murmured, his voice full of wonder and the tiniest hint of sadness. “I was just thinking the same thing. Feels like yesterday you were cussing me out between contractions.”

Angel let out a breathy laugh through her tears. “That’s because it was yesterday.”

Joe smiled, kissing the side of her head. “I think about that night all the time. How scared I was… and then they handed her to me and everything just clicked.”

“She made us parents,” Angel whispered, her fingers curling around his. “And she made us better.”

Joe reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his phone. “If you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it right,” he said, swiping to a picture. “Caught her mid-fart smile this morning. Look at this disrespect.”

Angel laughed, sniffling as she took the phone. Zariyah’s gummy grin was mid-pucker, clearly proud of herself.

“She got that from you,” Angel said.

“Good. Let her be cocky about her bodily functions. Confidence starts young.”

Angel leaned into him, her tears now replaced with laughter. “She’s your twin in the face though.”

“She’s got your eyes,” Joe countered softly. “And your fire.”

They sat there for a long while—limbs tangled on the rug in the glow of morning—just talking about nothing and everything, pausing to reflect, remembering details the other forgot.

And when Zariyah stirred awake, the soft coo coming through the baby monitor, Angel sighed and kissed Joe’s jaw. “You wanna go get her?”

“I already am.” Joe stood and stretched, smirking down at her. “Your girl needs me.”

“She only calls you when she wants to break something.”

He shot her a wink over his shoulder. “Takes after her mama.”

Angel followed a beat later, just in time to catch Joe tossing Zariyah in the air—safely, gently—and catching her to a chorus of baby giggles.

“Happy six months, pretty girl,” he said, bouncing her. “You’re halfway to crawling off our bed and giving me a heart attack.”

Angel wrapped her arms around them both, and for a moment, it was just the three of them in a bubble of joy.

No cameras. No schedules. Just this.

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A soft, golden April sun washed over the city, the kind that made everything feel slower, sweeter. The kind of day that begged to be savored. No calls from agents. No team meetings. No emails or influencer brand deadlines. Just Joe, Angel, and their baby girl on her half birthday—April 30th, 2025.

They started with a walk through Ault Park, the spring breeze ruffling the new green leaves, tulips in bloom along the winding paths. Zariyah rode like royalty in her stroller, little fists waving in the air, legs kicking with giddy delight. She cooed and chirped at every passing dog, her wide brown eyes tracking squirrels like they were celebrities.

Angel walked slowly beside Joe, her arm linked with his, her other hand adjusting Zariyah’s sunhat every few minutes. She wore soft joggers and a loose crop top, sunglasses perched on her nose, curls bouncing with each step. Joe kept one hand on the stroller and the other tucked into his pocket, walking in sync with his girls, glancing down every few seconds just to smile at Zariyah—then at Angel, like he still couldn’t believe either of them were real.

“She's so damn cute,” Joe murmured under his breath as Zariyah kicked her foot out of her sock again.

Angel laughed, bending to retrieve it. “That’s the fourth time. I think she does it on purpose.”

“She gets that from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“The petty,” Joe teased, slanting her a grin. “She's already plotting ways to do whatever she wants.”

Angel bumped her shoulder into his, smiling. “Well. You can’t argue with results.”

They paused by the overlook for a few minutes, Angel pulling Zariyah out of the stroller and holding her against her hip. The baby reached up, tugging Joe’s hoodie string, then shoving it straight into her mouth.

“Delicious,” Angel deadpanned. “Fiber.”

Joe leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “We’re gonna have to teach her taste eventually.”

“Can’t even taste it,” Angel said. “You still wear cologne when we go to the park.”

Joe shrugged. “Gotta stay ready.”

Angel tsked and shook her head before muttering, "Whore."

They wandered the gardens a little longer before heading back to the car, choosing a familiar lunch spot with a cozy patio draped in hanging ferns and warm string lights. Angel wore Zariyah in a sling this time, her tiny arms peeking out while she dozed on Angel’s chest. The server brought their usual drinks without asking. A perk of being regulars. A perk of being happy.

Joe ordered for both of them, and when their food arrived, he fed Zariyah little bits of mashed avocado with his pinky finger, making airplane noises while Angel pretended not to film him.

“She’s gonna be spoiled rotten,” he said between bites, dabbing avocado off Zariyah’s chin.

Angel gave him a look. “She already is. And so are you.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, leaning over to peck her lips. “Look at my girls.”

After lunch, Zariyah started rubbing her eyes, her fussing small and tired, not upset. Angel kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear as they packed up, coaxing her into sleep. By the time they got home, she was out cold in the car seat.

But Angel didn’t want to put her in the crib.

Instead, she carried her into their bedroom and gently laid her down in the middle of the bed she shared with Joe. Zariyah let out a sleepy sigh, curls soft against the sheets, pacifier bobbing rhythmically. Angel stood there watching her, one hand over her mouth, her chest trembling like she was trying not to fall apart all over again.

Joe came up behind her, arms slipping around her waist.

“She looks like a little angel,” he whispered against her shoulder.

Angel nodded, blinking quickly. “I just… I remember when this bed was covered in burp cloths. And bottles. And me crying every two hours. And now—” She sniffed hard. “She’s in the middle of the bed, Joe. She’s in the bed. Like a person.”

He pulled her closer. “She is a person.”

“I know,” she whispered. “That’s the part that hurts.”

Joe didn’t say anything for a moment. Just held her tighter, kissed her cheek. Let her feel it all.

“She’ll always be our baby,” he said quietly. “Even when she’s taller than you and yelling at us for posting old bath pics on her birthday.”

Angel laughed through her tears, resting her head against his chest. “We’re never deleting those.”

“Hell no.”

They stood there a while longer, just watching her sleep, the room thick with memories and new love and the kind of quiet that said: we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

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After Zariyah woke from her nap—eyes blinking up at the light like she hadn’t just caused a minor emotional crisis in her mother—Angel scooped her up with practiced ease, cradling her close and breathing in that sweet, powdery baby scent that still made her heart squeeze.

“Good morning again, mama’s big girl,” Angel whispered, swaying gently in the soft glow of the bedroom. She pressed kisses to both chubby cheeks, then to the silky swirl of curls at her crown. “You’re six whole months today. That means you get spoiled. Even more than usual.”

Zariyah responded with a squeal and a gummy smile, grabbing a fistful of Angel’s curls with the kind of grip only babies—or professional linebackers—seemed capable of.

“Okay, ouch,” Angel laughed, gently prying her hair from her daughter's grip. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Joe appeared in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a slow smile spreading across his face. He leaned against the frame for a moment, content to just watch them. His girls. His whole world wrapped up in a sun-drenched frame.

“You two need a minute?” he teased, stepping inside. He bent to kiss Zariyah’s cheek, then angled up to kiss Angel’s. “Did I miss the morning fan club meeting?”

“She’s the one with separation anxiety,” Angel replied, adjusting Zariyah higher on her hip. “But it’s fine. I’m obsessed with her too.”

Joe smiled, brushing his knuckle over Zariyah’s dimpled cheek. “She’s gonna have us both wrapped around her finger until college.”

Angel raised a brow. “Until college? She already does.”

They spent the rest of the morning in full celebration mode—not in an over-the-top, Pinterest-perfect kind of way, but in the quiet, cozy way that felt most like them.

Angel slipped into soft sage-green leggings and a cropped hoodie that showed just a hint of her postpartum curves, the ones Joe still couldn't keep his hands off of. Zariyah wore a white onesie with glittery gold lettering that read Halfway to One!, her legs poking out beneath a cloud of pastel tulle. A tiny white bow clipped into her curls completed the look.

Joe, naturally, wore his “#GirlDad” crewneck—the same one Angel had given him as a joke when Zariyah was born, but which he now wore unironically on every special occasion.

“You really committed to that sweatshirt, huh?” Angel said as she walked out of the nursery, phone in one hand, Zariyah balanced on her hip.

Joe grinned and tugged at the hem. “I don’t wear it. It wears me.”

Angel rolled her eyes, but her smile said she adored him.

They didn’t plan a party. No balloons. No elaborate cake. No stress. Just the three of them, their cozy home, and a shared understanding that every moment was already a celebration.

Angel opened the curtains wide, letting natural light flood the living room. She snapped picture after picture—Zariyah grinning with drool on her chin, staring directly into the lens with a deadpan baby model face that was somehow both dramatic and unimpressed.

“She’s already tired of the spotlight,” Angel laughed, crouching to get a better angle. “She’s gonna be one of those kids who refuses to smile on school picture day.”

Joe leaned in behind her, phone out, recording from a different angle. “She’s just warming up for her baby album debut. We’re giving her material.”

In the kitchen, they whipped up a makeshift “cake”—a mashed banana mixed with unsweetened applesauce, topped with a swirl of whipped cream that Angel piped from a Ziploc bag like she was on The Great British Bake Off!

“Don’t you dare judge me,” she warned, setting the tiny dessert on the tray of Zariyah’s high chair. “She doesn’t even have teeth yet. This is Michelin-star baby dining.”

Joe was already filming. “Alright, princess. Time to go full food fight.”

Zariyah stared at the offering for a moment, as if mentally assessing it. Then, without ceremony, she leaned forward and face-planted into the soft mess with wild determination.

Angel burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Joe—”

“She’s your child,” he said, zooming in. “You see that technique? Zero hesitation. That was full wide receiver instincts. Eyes on the prize.”

Banana was smeared across Zariyah’s cheeks, a chunk of whipped cream somehow lodged in her eyebrow. She looked up at them both with a triumphant expression and squealed.

Afterward, Joe gave her a warm bath while Angel rinsed the high chair and shook out the tutu. The baby tub became a splash zone, Joe soaked nearly to the elbows as Zariyah smacked the water gleefully with both hands.

“She’s part fish,” Joe said, lifting her out and wrapping her in a hooded towel shaped like a bunny. “A slippery, banana-scented fish.”

Clean and full, Zariyah went down for her second nap without protest, cheeks pink and warm from all the excitement. Her tiny arms flopped to the sides like she’d run a marathon.

Angel turned on the monitor, adjusted the volume, and made her way to the couch where Joe was already sprawled, a blanket draped across his lap.

She curled up beside him, tucking her legs beneath her and resting her head on his chest. One of her hands traced slow, lazy patterns over the cotton of his crewneck.

Joe turned his head and kissed the crown of hers.

“It’s crazy,” Angel murmured. “I still remember what she looked like in the delivery room. All wrinkly and loud and perfect. And now…”

“She’s got opinions,” Joe said, smiling. “And baby biceps.”

Angel chuckled softly. “She’s gonna walk soon. Then we’re screwed.”

Joe brushed his knuckles along her jaw, his touch light. “You did good, Angel.”

“We did good.”

There was a quiet moment between them. The kind of pause that didn’t ask to be filled. Only after a minute did Joe shift, speaking so softly it was almost like he didn’t want to break the spell.

“You wanna do it again?”

Angel blinked, lifting her head just slightly. “What, like… a whole other baby?”

He shrugged, playing it cool. But his eyes were warm. Honest. Hopeful. “Eventually. Not tomorrow. But she’s kinda fun.”

Angel narrowed her eyes. “You just want another excuse to buy matching sweatsuits.”

“And baby Jordans,” Joe added with a smirk. “Don’t forget those.”

Angel laughed, shaking her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He pulled her in tighter, kissed her slow and deep. It was a kiss that tasted like banana and home and everything they’d built in six months of wonder and exhaustion and love.

Outside, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting amber light across the living room. The soft hum of the baby monitor glowed faintly on the table beside them.

Their home was quiet.

Full.

Brimming.

Six months down.

Forever to go.

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The rest of the day unfolded gently. Lazy. Peaceful.

They napped with Zariyah between them, her fingers wrapped around Joe’s thumb while Angel rested her hand over both of theirs. They woke slowly, tangled and warm, with the kind of stillness that felt sacred.

Later, after dinner and bath time, after more kisses and another round of her favorite lullaby, Zariyah finally gave in to sleep again—this time in her crib.

Angel stood at the doorway for a few seconds longer than usual.

“You okay?” Joe asked softly, his hand on the small of her back.

She nodded, eyes still fixed on their daughter. “Yeah. I just want to remember this.”

“You will,” he promised, squeezing her gently. “Every second.”

And somehow, she believed him.

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The house was quiet by nightfall, bathed in the kind of stillness only new parents could truly understand. Not just the silence of a sleeping baby, but the sacred hush that settled over everything once the last lullaby faded and the last light in the nursery dimmed. It was peace bought with spit-up, swaddles, and hours of whispered patience.

Zariyah had gone down easy—miraculously—with no tears, no fighting sleep. Just warm milk, her soft plush bunny tucked under one arm, and the soothing hum of Angel’s voice as she rocked her gently beneath the star projector’s soft glow. The familiar lullaby—half sung, half hummed—was the same one Angel’s own mother used to sing to her, its melody now passed down like a quiet heirloom.

Now, the baby monitor rested on the nightstand, its small green light pulsing steady next to a half-full glass of red wine. A low instrumental playlist played faintly from the Bluetooth speaker, barely more than a suggestion in the background.

Angel emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, her face freshly washed, skin dewy, curls wrapped neatly beneath a silk bonnet. She wore a ribbed tank and soft cotton shorts—nothing fancy, but the kind of effortless beauty that came with motherhood and comfort. Her body, once unfamiliar to her in those early postpartum months, had become hers again in a new way—stronger, softer, sacred.

Joe was already in bed, lying against the headboard with the blanket low across his hips, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats that rode dangerously low. His arms were folded behind his head, exposing the full stretch of his torso—abs that were still somehow intact despite the snack binges and sleepless nights, and a chest that had become Angel’s favorite place to collapse into after long days.

He looked at her the way he always did when the world went quiet—like nothing else existed. Like she was the best part of his entire life.

“You look cozy,” he said, voice low and warm.

“Because I am cozy,” Angel murmured, crawling into bed beside him with the languid grace of a woman who had earnedevery second of rest. She stretched like a cat before settling into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to the warmth of his chest. “And because I bathed our child, did bedtime, read Goodnight Moon for the forty-ninth time, and managed not to cry again today. So, yes. I am cozy. I am victorious.”

Joe chuckled, the low sound rumbling through her. “You earned that glass of wine.”

“I’m drinking it in my spirit. This is mommy time.”

He kissed her forehead. “Happy half-year of being the best mom in the world.”

Angel tilted her face up to give him a look—mock skeptical, teasing. “Aww. Look at you trying to get laid.”

“Is it working?”

Instead of answering, she straddled him in one smooth movement, her knees bracketing his hips, her thighs warm against his skin. Her hands settled on his bare chest as she leaned in, her eyes playful, her voice soft.

“You tell me.”

Joe’s hands slid up the backs of her thighs, thumbs stroking lazy circles over her skin. His eyes darkened as he took her in—her smirk, her curves, the heat of her settling against him.

“This what ‘mommy time’ looks like now?” he asked, his voice gravel-thick with want.

“This,” she whispered, lowering her lips to his, “is what six months of practice looks like.”

Their kiss started slow—familiar but charged, the kind of kiss built on years of knowing each other’s rhythm. One hand slid up her back, the other curled protectively around her thigh as they melted deeper into the moment.

“I missed this,” Angel breathed against his mouth. “Being touched without worrying about spit-up or the damn baby monitor lighting up like a siren.”

“Might need to make this a nightly ritual,” Joe said, lips brushing hers. “Get in a little extra practice.”

Her eyes glittered with amusement as she leaned back just a touch, her hips still resting on his. “Practice for what?”

Joe gave her a slow, devilish smile. “Round two.”

Angel blinked. “Round two?”

Joe shrugged like it was nothing, though his hands gripped her hips with purpose. “Just saying… we’re already elite parents. Why not run it back?”

She laughed, loud and full-bodied, pressing her palms to his chest to steady herself. “Sir. You get emotional one time during a stroller walk and suddenly you want another baby?”

“I said eventually,” he countered, grinning. “Unless you’re ovulating. In which case, I can clear tomorrow’s schedule.”

Angel gasped in mock offense, slapping his chest. “Oh my God, Joseph!”

“What?” he asked innocently. “You were the one crying this morning because she outgrew the pink footie pajamas with the little clouds on the toes. Don’t act like you’re not a little baby crazy.”

She tried to glare but ended up laughing again, shaking her head as she collapsed against him.

“You are not slick.”

Joe’s smile softened, and his hand came to rest on her stomach, just below her belly button. His voice dropped, quieter this time. “You’ve been thinking about it though. Haven’t you?”

Angel stilled.

His thumb traced lazy, tender circles. “Zariyah with a little brother. Or sister. Her chasing somebody around with her kitchen set. You pregnant again, walking around the house in your bonnet and my shirts, rubbing your belly like you’re baking a whole miracle…”

Her eyes softened, the laughter fading into something far more vulnerable. “I do think about it,” she admitted, voice almost shy. “Sometimes when she wraps both arms around my neck and laughs at nothing for like ten minutes straight, or looks up at me while I’m feeding her like I’m her whole world... I think, ‘Damn. We really made her.’”

Joe nodded, eyes locked on hers. “We could do it again. Make another little you. Or another me—with your eyes and your attitude.”

“More like your stubbornness and your dramatic genes,” she teased, though her voice trembled slightly now.

He shrugged, grinning. “Fair trade.”

Angel leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Not now. But… yeah. One day? I could do this again. With you.”

Joe kissed her slowly—no rush, no heat, just love—hands cupping her face like she was something precious. Because she was.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

They stayed like that for a long time—wrapped up in each other, in the quiet thrum of the baby monitor, in the ache of how much they loved the life they’d built and the family they were still dreaming about.

Outside, the streetlights flickered on one by one. Inside, the bedroom glowed soft and gold. And somewhere, nestled between the laughter and the teasing, between Angel’s cotton shorts and Joe’s gray sweats and the steady pulse of something more, a new chapter began to write itself.

They didn’t know when.

But they knew one day… There would be one more heartbeat.

And they were already in love with it.

[eddiazx]

benefit part 2 - evan buckley x reader

part 1 here!

Buck wakes up with his nose pressed against your hair. You’ve slept at Buck’s multiple times, even shared beds once or twice, but he never realized just how clingy you are in your sleep. Half your body is on top of his: your head is tucked underneath his chin, your arm is splayed out over his bare torso, and your right leg is hooked over his left thigh, knee brushing up against his morning wood.

Buck likes this. The domesticity, the smell of you, your warmth; Buck could get used to waking up this way all the time.

Except, he thinks soberly, that’s not what the two of you had agreed on. This was supposed to be just sex. But Buck has come to the belated realization that it could never be just anything with you.

“Buck? You awake yet?”, Eddie’s voice comes ringing through the loft from his front door. Buck’s eyes widen; he had completely forgotten that he made plans to get breakfast with him that morning. He looks at you, who had woken up to the sound. With an impressive quickness, you roll off and drop down soundlessly to hide under the bed in all your naked glory. Buck would have busted out laughing if he wasn’t so scared that Eddie was going to catch the two of you together. Neither of you would hear the end of it if the rest of the team found out about your little arrangement.

Eddie makes his way up the loft stairs and gives Buck an unimpressed look over at his sleepy, shirtless form. Buck had had the sense to throw the covers over his legs to avoid flashing Eddie.

“Hey Eds”, Buck smiles weakly.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. You able to get ready in 5, at least? I’m craving that breakfast burrito from Joe’s.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Just…go watch TV and I’ll be ready in a bit.” Buck says, desperately hoping Eddie doesn’t look too closely at the fact that your bra was on the floor in the corner of the room.

Eddie nods, before saying, “Maybe we can text Y/N if she wants to join us too.”

Buck lets out a startled cough at your name, but Eddie already has his back to him, walking down the stairs. A few moments pass until Buck hears the sounds of Brooklyn 99 playing downstairs.

Buck leans over and peers down at you. You have an amused smile on your face, but Buck can’t help but mouth, “you okay?”

You nod, and give him a thumbs up. You gesture at your phone, which Buck hands over to you. He watches as you open up your notes app and type out 'go grab breakfast, I’ll let myself out and lock the door' before showing him the text.

Buck nods and walks to the bathroom, all the while wondering what the heck he got himself into.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Eddie is talking about a project Chris has for his history class while chewing on his burrito. Buck is trying really hard to pay attention, but his brain keeps providing him with unhelpful flashes of last night. He thinks he might be hallucinating, because he can even picture you sitting down in front of him.

Wait, that’s not a hallucination, you were actually here.

“Hi guys”, you smile, swiping a potato off of Eddie’s plate and popping it into your mouth, eyes sparkly and beautiful as usual. Buck is again met with a memory of last night, when you put something of his in your mouth.

Buck shakes his head, as if he can physically clear his mind from the memory. “Uh, what’re you doing here?”

“I knew you would forget so I sent her a text to join us while you were getting ready.” Eddie responds for you.

"Right, yeah." Buck nods quickly.

Eddie and you exchange glances. Buck was acting weird, weirder than normal.

While you order and promptly delve into a conversation with Eddie, Buck considers moving to another firehouse, one where he didn't have to see and work with his best friend that he was hopelessly in love with.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"Hen, can I talk to you?", Buck stammers, when they're the only two seated at the firehouse dinner table one evening.

"Sure, what's up?" Hen asks, closing the textbook she was reading.

"I... I think I have feelings for Y/N." Buck admits.

Hen continues to stare at Buck expectantly, not a single difference showing in her face after Buck's admission. "Wait, that's it? That's not news to anybody, Buck."

Buck blinks at Hen. "What?"

"Buck, you've been gone for her since she started at the 118. You've had permanent heart eyes for that girl."

"No... we're friends! Best friends!"

Hen shoots Buck a patient look. "Chim and I are best friends, Buck. You and Y/N are in a different category entirely."

"Okay, fine, whatever. It's bad, Hen. We started sleeping with each other last week and -"

"What?!"

"She's so smart and beautiful Hen, and she makes the hottest sounds when-"

"Okay, ew."

"But she doesn't want to be in a relationship and I don't know how to act around her now that I know I have feelings for her and-"

"Alright Buck, breathe." Hen motions for Buck to inhale and exhale with her hands. Hen seems thoughtful for a second, before she asks, "how do you know she doesn't want to be in a relationship?"

"I don't think a relationship was what she had in mind. She suggested we have sex casually; that it wouldn't be weird 'cause we're friends."

"That... was a horrible idea."

Buck groans and puts his head in his hands. "Well, I know that now!"

Hen smiles softly, prying Buck's hands away to hold onto them. "Buck, we all knew that you were in love with her, but she looks at you the same way. I think you guys should talk to each other. You guys might be on the same page."

Buck looks at Hen's earnest, honest face. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he knows that he couldn't keep avoiding you or clamming up the way he did at breakfast. He needed to come clean.

And then promptly move.

[jangillman]

[yuaa-haru]

Fiance!Satoru who, even if you said it was okay to not be present all the time, insists that you both should come to the family gathering that he, will soon be part of too.

Sighed as he closed the laptop and put the papers away. Today, he finished his work earlier than usual. He, then, texted you, his soon-to-be wife!

MESSAGE

Hi lovely, u home already? :

Wifey: hi love! i'm stuck w too much work, i'll try to be home in 30 mins ig >○<

i'll head home first then bring you change of clothes. :

I'll wait for you in the front ok? Love you <3 :

Wifey: aww u don't have too, but thank you! I love you more, mwuah <3333

He waited patiently for you to finish work and change out of your work clothes, then drove the two of you to your parent's house, a two and a half hour trip, for the family gathering.

As you both arrived at the house, Fiance!Satoru told you to go in first so you can rest better and he'd park by himself, however you saw your brother who *claimed* to be sober.

"Mother told me to quickly buy some more roasted chicken". he said. "Yah, look at you. You're drunk! You'd crash your motor" you replied.

"Is there something wrong?" Your fiance asked as he got closer to the both of you. "This boy want to drive drunk! I'll ask someone else to buy roasted chicken okay? Go back!" you said as your brother keep mumbling.

Your brother was met with a smack in the head by none other than your mother. "Idiot! I told you to ask your Uncle Joe, not drive by yourself, you‐!!!" He suddenly pout, whining as he took cover behind your fiance's back so he wouldn't be hit again.

He chuckled before volunteering to buy the chicken, as it looked like all the men in the house already had consumed alcohol in their system. Your mother was hesitant as you both were probably exhausted from the travel, but he insisted it was alright.

He turned to you and kissing your forehead "Go wash up, and don't wait for me. You need to sleep more, hmm?". Then drove off.

———————

You who headed straight towards your childhood bedroom to wash up before going back to the yard and greeting your other relatives, not noticing it has been half an hour already. After some time, while looking at the other side of the yard, you saw HIM. Holding the chicken and the key on the other side.

He, who caught you staring at him and gave you a wink before proceeding inside to where the foods are, setting the roasted chicken down.

"Go wash up, love. If you stay here, they won't let you go, especially the uncles." You said as you both headed to your room "Alright, what about you? Are you not tired yet?" he asked as he pulled you closer to him. "I'd prolly sleep as you wash up. The exhaustions getting to me." While laying your head to his shoulders.

———

Fiance!Satoru who drank only one shot and refused any more than that because you have to leave the next day. He instead roamed around to chat with the aunties, some cousins, and your parents, who were surprisingly still up, even though it was already midnight.

"Mother, you look sleepy. You should go to sleep, my wife have already been sleeping since earlier we came. You might get a cold if you don't go in now." He said as his hands were on her mother-in-law's shoulder, guiding her inside the house.

Your mother smiled at your name "You really are such a good son-in-law, I'm so happy that daughter of mine will marry you soon! Alright, alright, I'll go to sleep. If you're getting sleepy as well, then go back to her room, okay? You already know the things here. If you're hungry, the food's in the fridge. Don't mind those drunkards out there," she said before going inside the bedroom.

————————————————————————

| Nsfw content below! |

Fiance!Satoru who only had one shot of alcohol yet he feels the need to release the aching heat the moment he saw you sleeping peacefully on your bed, the blanket barely covering your shoulders. And the outline of your boobs peeking. "Shit, you look so gorgeous"

He layed behind you, slowly touching your shoulders, to your arms, your curves, and then he grabbed your boobs like a stress ball.

He cannot help but dip his hand inside, then slowly twirled and pinched your bud, watching it harden under his touch.

Your eyes widens awake because of the movement. You were a light sleeper.

All that sleepiness washing away when you realize what is happening. There is clearly something poking your ass, and definitely his as your fiance is laying behind you.

"Sorry lovely, did I wake you up? Please let me just have one round.. I can't help it" while taking your pants off along with your panties.

"'T-toru, love? W-wait, we can't do that here!" Whisper shout.

He didn't listen, and you heard his zipper down and let it out. "Fuckkk" He grabbed your hips as he slowly push it in. "So wet baby, didn't have to prep you? Have you been waiting for this, hmm?"

"Ha-ah~ W-what if they hear us?!" Tries to move away from you. He quickly grabbed both your hips and thrust fully inside. "AANGH—" he covered your mouth, still moving his hips to meet yours.

"Quiet down baby, you don't want them to hear that their daughter is getting fucked hard like this by her fiance hm?" You nodded, mind hazy as he speeds up, turning you to your stomach and that new angle made it much better.

"Ahhh~ t-too much 'toruu!" Biting your lips to quiet yourself down. "My baby can take it yeah?"

Your eyes rolls back, grabbing anything to hold yourself as you feel that thing snapped inside you, and he quickly covered your mouth cuz he knows your mouth very well.

"Shit, shit, shit. One more, love? Please? Please?" begging you while turning you around so he can see your fucked out face. "J-just, ONE more time...okay?" you said while catching your breath.

That was two hours ago.

"I can't loveeee— hngh!— please, no more. We-we'll get caught! They're all sleepi—nggh!" You can't see him, but you know he has that grinning face as he pounds you from behind. Knowing damn well how loud the squelching sound is, even louder than your moans.

"I-i'll fucking ban you from sex if you continue after this round! Hnggh! We have to sleep satoru! Ahhngh! You need to sleep—" "this is the last, i promise. l-let me just—fuck— you feel too good! shit shit. Take it baby! Take it, take it, take it!" He continously pound before shooting all his cum inside.

You pant as you layed beside each other. His hands masaging your hips that has his nail markings. You both look at the time, 4:00 am. "I'll clean you up babe, you want me to heat you up a bath?" He said as he sit up and face you.

"N-no need.. t-too tired, just clean me up please?" "Alright, you can sleep baby. I love you, thank you." Kissing your head, and you fall into dreamland.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

bonus ⋆ ˚｡⋆

Lunch time.

"I'm telling the truth! There really is a working ghost here at your house!" one of your cousin said.

"Scaryyyyy" Another one said with sarcasm.

"You were just scared because the lights at the hallway are off. Tsk tsk! Scaredy cat!" Your brother said, dismissing his cousin's accusations.

"Then what where those pounding sounds I heard, like someone was using a hammer and hitting a nail in the wall or whatever the freak it was doing! Surely a ghost would be the only one doing that at 3:00am and no freaking lights!"

"Surely, you are just frightened and hearing stuffs. And beside, you were too drunk last night! " our cousin's sister said.

"Are you calling me a delusional?! Sis Y/N, Bro Satoru! Did you guys hear anything yesterday night? These jerks won't believe me at all!" Pouting.

"Ah-erm.. I was sleeping the whole time, don't know about satoru here. Did you, love?" You asked, making sure to flash a little glare as you face him. He pause what he was cutting and looks at you both. "Nope, I fell asleep as soon as I got inside the bedroom. Maybe you were just too drunk?"

To which the others laughed.

[qqueenofhades]

I KNOW he’s gonna find a way to worm his way out of it like the Worlds Biggest Bitch Baby that he is but… the thought of watching our future president absolutely eviscerate that orange sack of pond scum in a debate on national television make me feel indescribable joy. The mere thought of it makes me feel A L I V E.

I hope that if he refuses to debate her, she still stands up there by herself, looks directly into the camera and lists all the ways he’s a Scaredy Little Punk Ass Bitch.

Listen, Democrats might still have some understandable nerves (though listen to me, LISTEN TO ME: this is NOT THE TIME FOR MORE PANIC, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT HOW SCARY THIS IS, WE KNOW! WE KNOW! THIS IS THE TIME TO GET TF IN FORMATION AND DO YOUR GODDAMN JOB!) but let me say this, the Republicans are LOSING it. They put ALL their chips on facing Sleepy Old Joe who don't talk so good anymore, and suddenly they have a 59-year-old lawyer and prosecutor who literally spent her whole elected career going after sex pests, frauds, and felons. (We remember how she made Brett Kavanaugh fucking cry at his confirmation hearing, right?) And suddenly, they have to bring it against Kamala. GODSPEED, DIPSHITS.

So yes, Trump is already whining SO hard about all the money they "wasted" going after Biden, laying the groundwork to escape getting his ass handed to him at the next debate, got stuck with a terriblawful VP pick (even Fucking FOX NEWS cut away from Vance's rally the other day because it was so boring) and suddenly realizing that he spent so much effort to make this election about age and mental competency when... now it's him. WHAT NOW, FUCKFACES. WHAT. NOW.

I'd also like to point out that abortion rights are going to be a HUGE issue, they have won everywhere they have been on the ballot (including in very red states) post-Dobbs, they will be on the ballot in several more important states (including Fucking Florida, not that I actually think we'll win there), and Kamala has a great record as a defender of reproductive freedom. Biden did his best, bless him, but sometimes the Old Catholic Man still leaped out. So the absolute fucking schadenfreude of having a black female president BEAT TRUMP IN A POST-DOBBS ELECTION??? MAGNIFICENT.

(As @silverbirching says: we wonder how many minutes it will take SCOTUS to row back the "president god-king" ruling if Kamala wins. We're guessing 15. That is, if Joe does not finally just embrace the fact that presidents are immune AND he is leaving office, and send Alito, Thomas, and Kav on a "special indefinite vacation" as an inauguration present.)

I am not overconfident. I know this is unprecedented. I know we don't have much time, and how hard this will be. This is not 2016 or 2020, and we all have to do the work and not let up. But if the Handmaid's Tale party is literally now trying to make "Kamala doesn't have children because she's an Evul Feminist" into their main line of attack, all I say is, Please proceed, chucklefucks. I'm sure that will go great.

[pankowcrumbs]

Heyy I absolutely love your Joe work and was wondering if you could do one where he introduces reader to his family and they absolutely love reader and tell joe that reader's the one and his mom's asking about their future like when is joe gonna propose and kids or something like that and its very domestic and fluffy and joe fell even more in love 🤍

The One My Mum Loves More Than Me X Joe Keery

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

AN: I know Joe has 4 sisters and only one website had their names so I'm just gonna gather that's correct info otherwise I have no idea what their names are. I also have no idea if they have kids for the sake of the story they do.

Joe's POV-

I’m not saying I was nervous, but I’d changed my shirt three times, and I’m not even the one meeting new people. Technically, Y/n had it worse she was about to meet the entire Keery family.

“You okay?” she asked softly, slipping her arms around my waist from behind as I fumbled with the buttons on a shirt I wasn’t sure I even liked.

“Yeah, yeah,” I lied, though my heart was pounding. “You sure you’re ready to meet the chaos that is my family?”

She grinned. “You do realise I love you, right? I’m not going to break up with you because your uncle tells the same story five times.”

“I just…” I turned around and rested my forehead against hers. “I really want them to like you.”

Her eyes softened. “And I want them to like me too. But even if they don’t, I’m not going anywhere, Keery.”

God, she was brilliant.

We pulled up outside my mum and dad's house in the suburbs of Boston just after noon. Mum was already waiting on the porch like we were celebrities. As soon as Y/n stepped out of the car, my mum was there, wrapping her in a hug that lasted at least thirty seconds.

“Look at you!” she cried. “You’re gorgeous Joe didn’t do you justice when he described you.”

I blushed. “Mum, please.”

“Oh, hush. Come inside, love. We’ve got enough food to feed the Red Sox.”

Y/n shot me a look that said what have I gotten myself into, but she was still smiling, and I loved her even more for it.

Inside, it was warm and chaotic in that very specific way only big families can manage. My sisters had brought their kids, my dad was already halfway through a story about a broken lawnmower, and my uncle had a beer in hand by 12:05.

But Y/n? She handled it like a pro.

She played with the twins on the living room floor, laughed at every one of my dad’s terrible jokes, and even helped Mum in the kitchen without being asked. I watched her seamlessly fit into every part of my life, like she’d always belonged there.

At one point, I caught my sisters pulling her aside. I edged closer just enough to hear.

“You’re the best thing to happen to my brother,” Caroline said.

“He’s lighter with you around.” Emma added

Lizzy and Kate nodded in agreement

Y/n looked flustered but happy. “That’s really sweet, thank you.”

“No,” Kate said, dead serious. “Thank you. He needed someone like you.”

I nearly melted on the spot.

Later, after we’d eaten ourselves into food comas and everyone was lounging around the house, Mum cornered me in the kitchen.

“Right,” she said, folding her arms. “When are you proposing?”

I nearly choked on my water. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act surprised. You brought her home, didn’t you? I know you. You only do that when it’s serious.”

“It is serious,” I admitted. “But… I mean, we haven’t even moved in together yet. And you’re jumping to proposals?”

“She’s the one,” Mum said firmly. “You’re a fool if you let her get away.”

I looked out into the living room where Y/n was curled up with my niece, letting her braid tiny flowers into her hair.

“I know,” I said quietly. “I know she is.”

That night, after the family had gone home or passed out in guest rooms, Y/n and I stayed in the guest bedroom at Mum and dad's. I watched her take off her earrings in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her hair a little messy from the day, her smile sleepy.

“You okay?” she asked, climbing into bed beside me.

“More than okay,” I murmured.

She snuggled into my chest, fitting there like a missing puzzle piece. “Your family’s lovely.”

“They’re obsessed with you.”

“Good.”

We both laughed, and for a while, it was quiet.

Then I whispered, “Mum asked me when I’m going to propose.”

Y/n looked up at me, surprised. “She did?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice was small. “And what did you say?”

“I said… not yet. But also that I know you’re it for me.”

Her eyes softened, and she touched my face gently. “That’s enough for now.”

I kissed her, and in that moment, with the house quiet and full of love, I thought about rings. Not to pressure her, not to rush anything but because I knew, deep in my bones, I wanted this forever.

The next day was more of the same. Pancakes, coffee, long walks around the neighbourhood. Y/n held my hand like she’d lived here her whole life.

We took the twins to the park, and one of them cheeky little Leo tugged on my sleeve and asked, “Is Y/n going to be our new auntie?”

Y/n overheard and giggled.

I crouched down. “Would you like that?”

He nodded vigorously. “She’s pretty. And she smells nice.”

Y/n ruffled his hair and whispered to me, “He’s not wrong.”

That evening, Mum set up a family movie night. Popcorn, duvets, a projector on the wall. She picked some cheesy romcom none of us had heard of, but it didn’t matter. Y/n lay on my chest the whole time, occasionally mouthing lines from the film and making me laugh.

Halfway through, Mum leaned across the sofa and whispered, “Promise me something.”

“Sure.”

“When you do ask her, don’t wait until she’s doubting herself. Let her know she’s yours every day.”

I looked down at Y/n, who was nodding off slightly, eyes fluttering as the light from the screen painted her face.

“I will.”

A few days later, when we got back to our flat, it felt empty in comparison. Still good, still home but I missed seeing Y/n surrounded by people who loved her. People who saw what I saw every day.

She flopped on the bed dramatically. “Your family are exhausting.”

“You’re saying that after they begged you to come back for Thanksgiving?”

“Your mum’s already planning the menu.”

I sat beside her and gently brushed her hair back. “You were perfect.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

“No, really. I was watching you all weekend like some love-struck idiot. I kept thinking, this is it. This is who I want my life to be with.”

Her gaze met mine, cautious but warm. “You really feel that?”

I took her hand. “I’ve never been more certain of anything. And not just because my mum loves you more than me.”

She laughed, and I knew when I did propose, it’d be simple. Maybe in this very flat. Maybe on a lazy Sunday. Something that felt like us.

Because I didn’t need grand gestures to prove I loved her.

I just needed her.

[lyrenminth]

have a request for a joe burrow fic can u do one where the reader has surgery and joe takes care of her in the hospital

Partnership

The pain started during the night. At the beginning you thought they were cramps, no big deal until the pain got worse and worse. You tried not to wake up Joe, who was peacefully sleeping next to you. You went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet and you saw blood like you were in your period. You changed your underwear for a pad, but you were bleeding a lot, and you couldn't stand up from the pain. You started gasping for air, and cried silently.

Something was wrong.

Joe knocked the door and open it. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, when he saw you crying, sitting on the toilet his face changed from sleepy to alarmed in matter of seconds. "What's happen? Are you having cramps?" he got closer.

"I'm bleeding a lot, and I'm having a-a lot of pain" you cried "I can't stand up and I'm feeling dizzy"

"I'm calling an ambulance" he went back to the room, looking for his phone. When you started feeling wet your legs you realized it was blood. "Joe!" You called him, weakly.

After a couple of minutes, you were on his arms, he was carrying you outside the bedroom and laid you on the floor. You closed your eyes, sleepy. "Baby, hey, it's not time to sleep, baby" you felt a hand touch your face. His voice sounded distant but you could hear the worry and anxiety. "Hey, honey please, wake up, the ambulance it's closer but I need you to stay up, okay?"

You nodded, opening your eyes only to look at his blue eyes. Joe seemed like an angel coming for you. But he was frowning and talking to the phone.

You wanted to stay awake but he was getting blurred, and the world was so slow. "Baby, don't sleep, don't do this to me" fear, Joe was scared.

***

You woke up with the beeping sound of some device. You looked around, confused. Your eyes stopped on Joe, sleeping on the couch. He looked so peaceful and handsome as always. When you tried to incorporate, a pain in your lower abdomen made you flinch. You hissed and laid back again.

Joe woke up, and stood up, rubbing his eyes. "Are you up" he stated. "What happened?" you asked. "You were losing a lot of blood" he took your hand and squeeze slightly "Damn, I thought...I thought you wouldn't-" he shook his head, keeping the thought away "You scared me,bad" he kissed your forehead and looked for any sign of discomfort.

"Sorry, I don't know what happened" you apologize. "The doc said something about your left ovary" he explained a little embarrassed he couldn't provide more info. "Let me call a nurse"

Minutes later a doctor and a nurse entered the room.

"Oh, Mrs Burrow. How are you feeling now?" The doctor said, she was friendly.

"Better" you replied.

"Yes, we have to do a emergency surgery for your left ovary. You had an enormous cyst that exploded" she explained "you lost blood but we could bring you back"

Your breathe shakily. The nurse checked your pressure, while the doctor explained the process and your recovery.

"No lifting heavy things, and you need to rest. We're going to have you here for the day but tomorrow you can go to your house" she looked at Joe "I'm sure you are in good hands, he was so worried about you"

You looked at Joe but he was serious. Did you really scared him? There was a turmoil of emotions inside you.

Once you were alone, he was still holding your hand. You touch his hand, playing with his fingers. "Are you ok?" he had bags under his eyes, and looked a little bit messy.

"Yes, I'm tired. I was calling your parents and everyone to let them know the situation" he replied. "So don't worry about that, you need to rest"

Joe was with you until the last minute you left to the hospital. He helped you to get into the car, bought the medicine the doctor gave you and healthy food your dinner. "I need to take a bath, I feel sticky" you confessed, he snorted but help you to undress. He was so gently with you, you almost cry. When he tried to get into the shower, you stopped him. "Baby, I think I'm alright" you said, giving him a kiss.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but he was holding your elbows like you were leaving forever.

"Yes, I-I can do this"

"Just yell my name if you need something"

Once the shower was over, he looked for your clothes and help you to dress again. "Do you want me to braid your hair?" It was one of his hidden talents. When you taught him, he learned fast and actually like to braid your hair. "I find it relaxing" he explained.

You nodded and sat on a chair, and his hands caressing your hair relaxed you so much you were falling asleep.

"Joe" you mumbled, "Mmm?"

"Did I scared you?" silence, he never stopped moving his hand though "Yes"

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize. You didn't know"

"Joe, the doctor told me she had to removed my left ovary" you starting saying, finding the courage to continue "it's going to be difficult for me to get pregnant"

"That's ok, you are here right now. That's what matters"

" I know you wanted a family"

"Yes, but I want my wife to be healthy too"

"Thank you" you cried. His reassurance was relieving. When he finished braiding your hair, he brought you a soft dinner, and while you ate he took a shower.

Joe always took care of you when he could. As you did with him. You were a couple.

A team.

Thank you for this request. I have a similar fanfiction written about Joe too, but it's shorter. You can check it on the masterlist!

[badlywritten-stuff2]

Noaughty Headcanons – Noa x reader Alphabet headcanons

I lost the idgaf battle so here are gross and explicit headcanons. I imagine that meme where my chains are broken and it’s sunset n shit like I am free- cue the music

If you actually want to listen to the music I was listening to while writing I was listening to Devil Eyes by Luke Muzzic, the rhythms of the song really scratched my brain for these

RELATIONSHIP: Noa x reader

MEDIA: Planet of the Apes, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

WORDS: 3.6k

SUMMARY: naoughty headcanons lmao

WARNINGS: HIGHLY INNAPPROPRIATE IMPLICATIONS, +18, written from an afab perspective so will be using and referencing the according anatomy, me in some places lowkey making fun of our bf lmao

---

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Noa will need a second to collect his bearings, but he’s very affectionate. He’ll pull you into his arms, allowing you to cuddle up into his warm body and his arms are wrapped around you. He nuzzles his face into the crown of your head and will sniff you (Joe Biden sniffing meme), letting your sweet and uniquely you smell relax him, which makes him sleepy. If you feel messy he’ll get up and find something pat you dry, he’ll bring you water and food, whatever you need after really. He’s really big on cuddling, after sex he needs to feel close to you to feel fully good, it makes him feel weird if you’re not snuggling with him after.

He’s totally willing to chat with you once he’s got more clarity, in fact it’s probably one of his favourite circumstances to talk to you in (not the only one, lets make that clear). He likes talking to you about your day, if you saw anything interesting, if you got a question to ask him and vice versa, what you’ve accomplished and what you still want to do, what’s on his mind and how he’s feeling or needs to do, have a good ole’ fashioned yap-sesh, how the sex was, etc. pillow talk stuff hehe

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Noa likes his hands very much. They’re strong and reliable, he’s very satisfied with what he’s been able to accomplish. He also really likes his hands because he likes holding your hands, his hands are much bigger than yours and it makes something in his brain go “I can protect my mate yahoo”. Makes him feel good. He also likes that his hands can make you squirm, that he’s learned your body (inside and out ;]) and can make you squeal and shake with pleasure. He likes that your hands tangle into his fur and pull tight, grounding him even further into you.

His favourite part of you, other than your hands, is your hair. It might sound a little boring at first, but he is lowkey obsessed with it. how different than his own, how it has different smells and moves differently. No matter how you wear it, he will be staring at it and admiring how versatile and gorgeous you are.

Also, if your hair is available for it, he likes it when he’s behind you while fucking you and he can wrap his own hand up in your hair. He likes to grip in tight and angle your head back, wrapping an arm across your torso and holding you close and holding your head back by your hair. He will totally take advantage of the vulnerability of the pose puts you in. And, he will only do this if he’s in a particular mood (smelling you ovulate), he will hold you down by your hair and he will just go to town on you. Yes you will feel it for days to come, and yes you will love it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

A decent amount? No more or less than what’s normal. He honestly prefers to cum inside of you, but he will cum elsewhere if you prefer without any bitching or groaning. Respectful King. He is lowkey the type to let you kiss him after he’s cum in your mouth, it for some reason doesn’t phase him and it tickles you immensely. He knows you will purposely kiss him if he’s finished in your mouth, and he’s amused that you’re amused.

Whore. This guy became a dirty whore when he got with you.

Noa likes it when his mouth is glazed in your cum, like he needs to get a hobby. He likes it when you cum around his dick, feeling you clamp down and convulse around him get him acting dumb real quick.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wishes you were naked more often. After you explained it to him, he can mostly grasp the concept of why you wear clothes and from his observations your clothes are necessary because you have no fur to keep you warm. Apes don’t wear clothes in the same way humans do, and they don’t really have a need for them as they’re covered head to toe in thick fur. He really likes seeing your body, how different but similar you are and he really enjoys when it’s late at night or early in the morning and he’s able to see your body while you’re almost or completely bare. Although he really likes that he’s the only one who gets to see your body in your entirety, like he’s special enough for you to be comfortable like that just around him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He can get the general gist of how your body works, but he didn’t have experience initially. Not really, and you’re the only one he’s ever been with. Noa was nervous when you and him got to that level of intimacy, he’s never seen these parts of your body uncovered before and he didn’t want to disappoint you. Overtime though, he became more confident in himself and he’s dedicated a lot of time to learning what makes you shiver. Now he knows exactly what he’s doing and wastes no time, he’s at the level where he could undo your bra without looking WITH ONE HAND. Mf obsessed over perfecting his dick game.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You’d think because he’s a young guy and has a ton of energy and youth he’d have you folded every which way, but positions don’t super matter to him. He just wants to get his hands on you, really; but if he had to choose it would be cowgirl. He likes tracing his hands up and down your sides and making your skin tremble, he’s able to grab and squeeze your hips, ass, thighs, breasts, wherever he sees fit or wherever you need him. He likes cowgirl especially when he’s more reclined as opposed to flat, so he can pull your bare chest down to his and smother himself in your neck and smell. He likes hearing your whimpers directly in his ear.

Although, there are some nights where he does push the levels of your flexibility. He has folded you like origami and will continue to do so. He thinks it’s funny seeing you writhe when he’s able to stuff you full at different angles.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

In the beginning he was wayyy too locked in on not fucking up, but as time progressed and you both got more comfortable with each other he felt like he could let himself be silly with you. He deeply values the intimacy of being with you and memorizing the surface of your body, but sharing a laugh with you enriches the experience.

He loves you as his mate, he loves you so much and deeply he cannot imagine a life without you but being able to have these moments reminds him of how much he just likes you. You’re his lover and his friend and he treasures that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bro is an ape. Like I said back in D, he’s covered head to toe in fur. However, this doesn’t mean he’s dirty, he’s neat and keeps himself clean. During the movie whenever he touched water he was like ‘thank fucking god’ or the ape equivalent of that and you can fact check me that I will back it up.

I’m inclined to think that you also have pubic hair, considering the world this takes place in but if you want to imagine bald coochie you can go right ahead I wont judge you babes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

One thing that plagues Noa both in and out of the bedroom is his craving for approval. He needs you close telling him how good he is and how well he pleases you, overtaking everything about him, he’d shove you inside his ribs if he could. He likes looking at you, gazing into your eyes as he’s deep inside you and watching your expression change with pleasure. He rubs his hands all over your body, squeezing your body and gripping his hand in your hair. He can’t get enough of you; he desires you in your entirety.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not a very foreign thing to him, but he’s noticed that’s it’s a very Echo thing to do. He doesn’t do it often because he’d rather be with you, but if you’re not near him and he’s in his nest alone he will allow himself to relax. He thinks of you the entire time he does it.

He likes watching you do it, he asked you if you would touch yourself in front of him and let him watch so he could learn how you liked being treated. Yes he could just let you tell him what you liked, but when he first asked you and you got all flustered and couldn’t look him in the face without flustering further and then averting your gaze—he got hooked on it.

It was very useful for him to build his knowledge of the human body, and it worked amazingly if he wanted to tease you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise, both giving and receiving. he is an absolute slut for that shit—he fiends for it. He loves hearing your voice purring for more, telling him how good he’s doing and that he’s so good to you. Additionally, he will sing your praises the whole night, saying how you perfect you are and how you’re so good for him. He’s sweet and will kiss and lick every part of your skin he can reach, especially if you’ve had a long or hard day. He also appreciates when you lather your lovin’ on him, telling him that he’s so strong and a good leader and that he takes care of you and the clan so well. Bro will bust.

Additionally... breeding. Hear me out. It is something so deeply ingrained into him, but he didn’t realize how much he’s addicted to the idea of knocking you up until you and him started having sex. He knows it’s not likely, but he cannot help himself. When he’s on top of you and you’re mewling so deliciously, struggling to say anything aside from a high-pitched moan, the dark and sinister voice of his unconscious murmurs in his ear about how great it would be to see your abdomen grow with your shared and beloved baby. He’d love to be the father of your children, to start a family with you and raise your babies together. It brings him such happiness and pride that you put that trust in him, he’d be honoured if you’d be willing to give him that opportunity.

Of course he’s thinking less about the raising part and more of the getting you pregnant part in the moment, but as your mate giving you a family is something that shoots chills up his spine. He likes watching his cum leak out when he pulls out of you, if he’s up to it he’ll shove his cock back inside you and fuck it deeper into you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your nest, duh. Or your shared nest. Somewhere that’s warm, safe, mostly private (privacy in a clan is challenging), and it’s high up. Your guys’ nest is big, branches and supports meticulously layered with hides and furs, cushioned with other soft materials. It’s supportive, you don’t have to worry about anything breaking or poking against you uncomfortably, and lucky the nest doesn’t creak underneath you while you and Noa are tangled with each other. So the only thing you need to focus on is monitoring the volume of your own noises.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As the saying goes, he’s young, dumb and full of cum, he’d be down for anything if you put more of a sway in your hip while walking away from him or staring him down while invading his space. He’s able to control himself obviously, but if you’re walking around the village doing chores or helping out where it’s needed, he wants nothing more than to throw you over his shoulder and vigorously fuck you in his nest. It really touches him that you’ve come around and are taking an active part in his clan, integrating yourself further. If he can’t get you alone all day and has to wait until the evening, he will take his adoration out on your body deep into the night.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sorry if you like impact play babe, Noa will never lay his hands on you. Most he’ll do is spank your ass cheek (or on your coochie if you ask him nicely), but he will never lay his hands on you anywhere else with any degree of force. He’s very aware that he’s much stronger than you, and if he left any lasting and painful marks on you, he’d feel like a monster. He doesn’t like hurting you in the slightest.

He will also not choke you like at all. For similar reasons, but he’s much firmer and more definitive with this hard no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He was so totally freaked when you first went down on him, he knows your teeth are so harmless but he’s still so nervous at the prospect of having teeth so close to a part of him that’s… not had teeth near it before.

However, you had been quite convincing, saying it was a regular custom amongst echo mates. During the process, both participating partners greatly enjoyed it. He came embarrassingly fast, his eyes rolled back into his head and his hands gripped the soft furs of the nest you were in like he was desperately clinging to his life. He really likes it he does, but he doesn’t super ask for it a ton he usually lets you initiate. However, it’s prob something he won’t be able to shake those beginning nerves from.

Now giving is a totally different story. You could call him a hypocrite, as he pretty much pounces the opportunity to shove his mouth into you and sloppily but enthusiastically lick and suck at your sex. You sometimes gotta tap the side of his head so this dumbass remembers to breathe because he will forget to breathe because he loves how you taste. Its so in his face (literally), and he loves smearing your juices over his lips and shoving his tongue inside. You gotta be careful around this man he will overstimulate you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Typically, Noa alternates. He builds you up slow, riling himself up in the process, teasing you until you start blathering at him and begging him to go harder, in which he will comply and roughly plow you into the furs that make your nest until he finishes deep inside of you. Other times he cannot wait to get his cock inside of you as soon as he can, his hands finding your hips and yanking your heat back onto himself relentless, his fingers leaving pressure indents in your skin. You love the firm hold he has on you, you feel like you can let your head roll back in ecstasy, your sounds permeating the air and overwhelming the senses.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Whenever he can get you alone; on a hunting trip, a fishing trip, foraging, hell anywhere it’s just you and him and no one else he’ll be holding you against his firm body as he lowers you both to softer ground or he’ll snatch you up into a tree. He only prefers to do quickies while you’re less likely to be bothered or seen, which is challenging when you try to have a quick fuck within the village (dragging you away from whatever you’re doing or whoever you’re talking to definitely earns some side-eye and laughs, which doesn’t bother him per se but he’s mindful of the fact that you might not want everyone in the village to know their leader is dragging his human mate off for freaky interspecies sex). Which is why out in the woods somewhere is the best choice if you don’t want to be needed or bothered by others during the day. Unfortunately, quickies don’t happen often. But just because they don’t happen often doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you and your body wrapping around him like a vice.

Even then, quickies in the woods last for quite a while with Noa. Which defeats the point of quickies!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he seemed very keen on the idea. It was shocking, because it seemed odd that he’d want to please you while in such an open place. In a caved-in room in a giant old human structure, made of metal and mossy stone. The floors of this monstrous building were caved in around some places, revealing you and Noa to the outside world. Moss and vines surrounded you, flowers growing here and there between the cracks. However, you couldn’t give more of a fuck, because Noa was licking the sensitive part of your neck, going down and ravenously sucking bruises into your exposed chest, your body squished beneath him, his tapered torso lodged between your thighs. His large hands kneaded the softness of your body, he kept huffing your smell like he was trying to drown himself in you. Noa was rutting over your clothed crotch, your heat was intoxicating against his own. You felt like you could hardly breathe. Noa grasped the back of your knee and lifted your leg over his shoulder.

You were certain this guy was trying to kill you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oouuuuuggggghhhhhh bro really had to work on this one. He is not used to the stamina it requires at all, and it took many nights for him to build up his stamina. One thing about him is that he is desperate to please. He has conditioned himself to be able to go long and go hard, he will fuck himself stupid inside of you if you need him to and he knows you love it when he does. He adores the sound of you moaning, listening to you whimper and gasp pushes him further than he thought he could. He gets off on knowing that you’re getting off and that he’s the one who turns you on, and if you need him to pound the shit outta you for four rounds and several hours he will somehow make that shit happen.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dawg. Be so fr rn. Ain’t nothing like that around here, unfortunately. Although, because of his hyperfocus tendencies, since you’re his first and only partner he’d want to do everything in his power to make you feel loved and aroused by him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Going back to an idea I brought up in J, Noa likes to tease you by making you jerk off in front of him while he watches. Legs spread and everything, fully facing that guy. He usually finds himself eager to touch you so it’s not every night that does this, but I’d definitely say 2 or 3 days out of a 7-day week Noa is asking you to open your legs and finger yourself. He doesn’t make you do it for long though because he wants to get in on it (“should be my fingers doing that. my fingers are gonna do that now”).

However, if you decide to be bratty about it and you refuse to open your legs, Noa will shove apart your thighs himself and he will finger you until you’re shaking and trying to get away. He will curl his fingers inside you, rapidly scissor his fingers in and out (you showed this mf goooood) and will smear your wetness over your clit. He won’t be too mean to you and make you apologize for being bratty, he’ll decide that you’ve had enough and he will kiss you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When he knows others are around, he makes little to no noise. Aside from the few hard exhales and low growls, getting him to make a noise outside of a groan will be challenging. He would hate if the sounds he made woke someone up or if someone was listening to you both. The only way you’ll be able to hear his sounds is if he’s thrusting into you and pressed against your chest, gripping your tightly to him and gripping your thighs hard and flush against his groin. How you handle your own sounds is up to you, but he knows you and your body so well you will have to either cover your mouth or shove your face into him to keep your sounds muffled.

Or you don’t have to. You can moan and whimper as loud as you want. Be warned though Noa has slight jealous inclinations and will cover your mouth with his hand and smirk at you. He knows he’s doing a good job but that doesn’t mean that everyone else needs to know that too.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He wishes that you’d bite him and bite him hard—like he understands that you’d get a mouthful of fur and it probably wouldn’t be super enjoyable for you, but he wishes that you would sink those blunt little teeth of yours into his skin. The idea of you leaving those kinds of marks on him gives him chills. He imagines that it won’t hurt a lot, especially considering the nature and build of your teeth, but he thinks that it would throb deliciously and he wants to feel your small, pointed canines dig into his own flesh. He’d let you bite him as much and as hard as you wanted and wherever you wanted, since it wouldn’t make him bleed (probably, but he wouldn’t mind if you did).

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes fur)

You know I refuse to look up on the internet for any kind of reference of this penis.

But. When I think about it, I think of something filling. Thick, can include three c’s. A little bit above average in length, he’s not dragging around some beast of a thing, but it is satisfying. It feels big and fat when fully erect. Will stretch you, will take a second to fully adjust both physically and the mental aspect of ‘holy fuck this isn’t another human and certainly something else’, but when you do you find it challenging to feel fulfilled when penetrated by something that isn’t him. Like… somehow his junk was made with your junk in mind.

Take that and go have fun with it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he had a day where he had no responsibilities to take care of, he would spend about 80% of that day with you. Spending the whole day just having sex wouldn’t be his first choice but that’s because he doesn’t want you to think that the only thing he desires from you is your body, but if you wanted him in bed and for him and you to stay there all day he’d be more than happy to. He does this funny thing where if he’s having a particularly long day or if he’s doing something he’d rather not be doing he’ll think to himself ‘I wish I was in my nest with my mate right now’.

But you can feel his eyes watching you throughout the day, they’re on you and drinking in all your features and details of your body. He wants you, and you know it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bro passes the fuck out after aftercare; he makes sure you’re all good and comfortable before he clocks out for the evening. He’ll stay up if you want some pillow talk, but it’s obvious that he is veryyy sleepy, so sleep is imminent. However, Noa is a light sleeper [not to the point where a pin dropping will wake him, but give him a few shakes and he’s up], so if you need something he’ll wake up just for you; all groggy n handsome n shit.

---

you know what's funny? the fact that i started an sfw alphabet before i started these ones, and these are the ones i finish and post first. i certainly got my priorities straight.

i also went thru each headcanon and counted the words INDIVIDUALLY so i could get an accurate word count. i am dedicated to the cause

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

what are domme & joe doing? she riding him into oblivion? 🤪

Joe did something exceedingly rare—he took time off. Yes, yes—OTAs are important. But this is the healthiest he’s been during the offseason so he’s going to enjoy it. Besides it’s the last weekend of his offseason that’s still technically he’s offseason. Domme maybe mentioned just wanted one weekend away with him. And by God, with that sapphire in her finger, Joe’s going to enjoy his life dammit.

He packs the bag for Domme, and his as well, slips a little something new for her to wear one night if she’s up for it. I’ll be napping before you get home. Setting an alarm but just want you to be aware. Make sure to change into something comfy once get home.

Domme’s reply comes a couple hours later, 👀 what do you have planned?

Just say yes.

Yes.

Domme comes home to Joe in the kitchen, cooking—pan’s sizzling, the hum of the oven hood going. She drops off her lunch bag at the sink, kisses his cheek and then heads to the bedroom. The bags are packed and waiting on the bench at the foot of the bed. A little postcard rests at the top of her bag with a view of a cabin on a lake—sleep on the road and soon the trees will call you home. Joe’s handwritten is nearer than usual. It’s clear he took his time.

And Domme’s no fool—she’s learn throughout the years it’s okay to let others take the lead. That it’s okay to ask for help, to relax. So she changes, brings the bags down the steps, and slips in next Joe. “A weekend getaway?”

“Yes—found a nice little secluded lake house. Just you, me, the water, and wildlife.”

They eat dinner—light for Joe so he doesn’t get sleepy on the drive, heartier for Domme so she can enjoy a few hours of sleep on the drive. By the time they reach the cabin, the moonlights thick through the trees, illuminating the gravel road. Domme’s swift to get Joe to the shower and when they crawl into bed, they find each other easy.

It’s the next morning that Domme showers, notices the sheer white lacy robe and the baby blue lingerie set and slips into it. The kitchen’s shockingly already stocked—maybe Joe paid extra for it, she doesn’t know. But she starts fixing breakfast—French toast, bacon, eggs, a fruit medley. When Joe rouses awake, to an empty bed, but the smell of food, he slips his way to the kitchen.

Breakfast is immediately paused when he spots her in the lingerie. His mouth salivates and he has to have a taste of her. The sweet huffy sighs escape her at the snap of his hips. Joe mouths at her shoulder, “Gorgeous like this. Fuck, you look so good. Good enough to eat. Good enough to fuck too.”

“Fuck, please, baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I got you.”

The window to the kitchen is opened and a flock of birds take off at Domme’s incessant chatter—punched out sighs, the exhale of his name, the utter desperation for “More, please, Joe. God, please, Joe.”

By the time it ends and Domme gets the oven aisles back on, Joe has worked up an appetite. He washes the dishes once they finish eating. Her gaze bores in the back of his head, feels it warming his naked back. But he feels good, satiated and hungry again. The second the drain is pulled, Domme pounces—corners him between the counter and the fridge, dropped to her knees, nails teasing at the edges of his kneecaps before they dig into the bottom of his thighs.

Her mouth is warm and Joe drops his head on his shoulder. “Baby, fuck,” he hums. “Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long weekend, Joe knew it the second he hit confirm payment on the booking, and he’s thrilled at that fact.