#!! sorry for the delay on this; I hope it works okay!

[avalonlights]

[occkalt]

"I've gotta say, I've never seen quite so many museums in one place. ...Someone's a fan of the fine arts, huh."

Kat muses to herself aloud as she walks down the street, a hot drink held in her gloved hands. The warmth it emanates is like a wonderful blanket in the cold winter night - and though she's not technically supposed to be here right now, she doesn't seem particularly concerned at all.

Of course, officially she's here as part of a weekend-long school trip - but as far as the teachers are aware, Kat's snuggled up in bed right now asleep like the rest of her classmates. As far as she's concerned, though, it's their fault she's here for doing such a bad job of keeping an eye on their students. ...Talk about irresponsible.

But as for what drove her to sneak out like this... honestly, she's not really sure. It was an impulse, a last-minute decision when she'd felt bored out of her mind and unable to sleep... maybe a part of her is hoping she'll find something worth her time out here, in such an interesting place.

"What's a girl gotta do to get some excitement around here?" Kat asks, taking a sip of her drink. It's probably time to start heading back, but... Just then, she notices something that catches her eye.

"Well, that's more like it. Hey - what are you doing over there?"

@dnangelic ( starter! )

[masquenoire]

"Roman, have you found someone else to entertain you? Have you grown tired of me?" (Matt)

It had been some time since Matt had last graced Roman's office with his presence. The window had been left unlocked since his last visit, the very same window the vigilante opted to use for his risqué ventures. Matt wasn't known as Daredevil for nothing; sneaking into Gotham's most vicious crime boss's private office was a feat only the bravest - or reckless - would dare attempt, yet Matt had done so not once, not even twice but a handful of times now. Each time the black-clad vigilante swore it would be the last time, that the next time they crossed paths, Matt would drag Roman to the courts himself so the criminal mastermind would at last face justice. Justice he couldn't bribe or threaten his way out of as Matt feared nothing, yet every mortal men had his weakness and the devil knew how to tempt every one of them. Weeks of being cooped up inside had taken their toll on Roman. Organizing drug rings, turf wars and illegal armament deals took time and patience Roman didn't always have, leaving him little to no time to focus on more pleasurable ventures of his own. He'd almost forgotten how shitty the air outside smelled, he'd been cooped up inside for that long. But that was how it went, didn't it? Roman wasn't built in a day and Gotham wasn't taken over in one either. Vices were a bitch to deal with and power, so intoxicating yet surprisingly fragile, needed constant supervision lest years of careful work got flushed down the drain in an instant. The sound of Matt's voice carrying over to his ears was more welcome than Roman had expected. Days of focusing on little else but securing the eastern half of Gotham's drug supplies was wearing on his focus and the vigilante was a devil in his own right in providing some much-needed distraction from his dark work. Had he found somebody else to entertain him? Had he fuck. Only little miss paperwork had his attention all this week and Roman was in sore need of being reminded as to the pleasures only carnal sin could give.

"How could you say such a thing? Ti ho pensato ogni giorno, I thought about you every day, wondering when you might slip through that window again..." The weight of the paper in his hand disgusted him and Roman immediately cast it aside out of sight and out of mind, his every thought now preoccupied by the very physical presence of the vigilante standing in his midst. Matt couldn't be ignored, not here not now and Roman wondered glumly if at last their game had come to an end. He'd waited for the man's return, albeit impatiently to see what his adversary might do now word had gotten around that Roman had been real busy at work securing his foothold on this troubled city. Hands moved, not to grab at Sodom and Gomorrah waiting in their holsters but instead two clean glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Years of heavy drinking taught Roman to pour without needing to watch, dark eyes growing darker with unbidden desire as he fixed Matt with a hungry look mere sustenance couldn't appease. "And to ask if I've grown tired of you, why, you wound my heart. There hasn't been entertainment like you in far too long, not since you last visited. Come, enjoy a drink and tell me how you've been. I'd hate to think that my favourite vigilante hasn't been getting enough action that he's starting to feel neglected. Mea Culpa, I have been a busy man..." It was as they said, the devil made work for idle thumbs and in this case he'd come calling, though as to how tonight's visit might go, Roman rather wanted their little game to continue. It had been far too long since he'd gotten his hands dirty and Matt had stopped by at a most opportune time.

[tiny-cloud-of-flowers]

a flower, returned (Clio/Aria)

A scene that takes place just after Aria is brought back to Daybreak Town by Clio, who wishes to finally reunite her with the piece of herself she had kept safe all this time. (1293 words) This piece is part of the Darkling AU, and directly follows my previous piece of writing for this selfship. Originally written for a "Welcome back kiss" prompt.

Tag list: @starlit-selfships | @edencantstopfallininlove | @yoomtahsgf | @sunlight-ships | @dragonsmooch | @thatslikesometaldude | @artificervaldi | @keyblade-ships (to be tagged in future work, please see this form!)

(Anyone is welcome to comment on and/or reblog my work, as long as my DNI is respected! A transcript of the document is under the readmore.)

The late morning sun had filled Clio's bedroom with light and warmth in the time since she had left it, but her first act upon getting back was to go over and pull the navy curtains closed, letting soothing shade settle over the space instead. Aria had kept close behind her the whole time, not only to hopefully be safer if she happened to be spotted on the way back, but also to simply appreciate the feeling of finally having someone else close by again.

"You can just sit down on my bed if you want." Clio was saying. "You look exhausted."

"Oh.. Thank you.." Aria quickly came over to perch on the end of the bed, watching as the room became darker and subsequently much easier to see in. This was her first time being invited into Clio's bedroom, so she was taking time to examine her surroundings - it was an open and spacious room with ample wardrobe space built into the wall near the doorway. A jewellery stand adorned with a number of pretty accessories stood on the dresser, and a many-flowered jasmine plant was growing in a terracotta pot sat next to it. It was this that she was staring at when Clio finished closing the curtains.

"I picked that one up from a shop not too far from here, back when I was out with some of the others." she explained, speaking up to fill the silence once she saw where Aria was looking. "I read that they don't like too much sunlight all at once, so I put it on the dresser in case today's mission took a while, and.. I mean, I don't want to jinx it, but it seems to be doing pretty well where I've left it!"

"Yes." Aria stated. "Constant light can be damaging in excess."

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know what this flower means, would you?" Clio asked casually, knowing the affinity she had always had for flower language.

There was then a long pause.

"..I can't remember." she admitted, and looked awfully downtrodden at the fact.

"Oh, that's alright!" Clio smiled to try and ease tension again. "It might say in the book I got, actually, so- don't worry!"

This did little to reassure her partner. "..I should be able to remember. No- I should be able to know. It's.. not good that I can't.."

In return, Clio couldn't help but be confused by her wording. "You should be able to? Did the.. do you think the darkness affected your memory?"

"Less memory, more.. instinct." Aria stated. Then she stopped. A lump caught in her throat, and Clio could see tears starting to form in her eyes again.

"Ari.."

"I have already lost so much.." she began to mumble, voice wavering now as she brought a clawed hand to where her heart would be. "I don't want- I refuse to let anything else of what I am be taken away. Whether by darkness, light, or any other aspect."

Clio opened her mouth to speak, but found she could not find the right words, so she settled for coming over and sitting on her bed next to Aria instead.

"..It'll be okay." she tried again. "You're back in Daybreak Town now."

"..A world of Dandelions, now." she muttered back. "The darkness was not safe for you, and it took something from me. But now, I fear the light here is not safe for me, for how much of it's present here."

Clio couldn't help but feel sad again at that, and reached out to take Aria's hand again, gently running her thumb over the hard parts of her claws, painfully aware of how cold she now was to the touch. In return, Aria simply leaned over to rest her head on Clio's shoulder, away from the spikes of her armour, tilting her wing to embrace her, trying to sense what warmth she still could.

There was a long, but not uncomfortable, silence as the two sat there together side-by-side.

It was Clio who spoke up again to break the silence, as a soft thought settled in her mind.

"Hey, um- There's something I've been meaning to give back to you."

"Mm..?"

Aria tilted her head in confusion as she watched Clio get off of the bed again, this time moving to the table right beside it. On it lay many items one would expect to find in such a spot - an alarm clock, a glass of water, a small pile of scrunchies and hairbands - but also a crown of clovers, woven together in a delicate yet strong wreath that Clio could gladly put back on her head now that she no longer needed to wear her helmet. However, before she did that, she set about dismantling her regalia, removing pieces of it one at a time and carefully setting them down on the floor away from Aria. Finally, her upper half was free of it, showing off her arms as all she was wearing underneath was a black short-sleeved shirt.

Even so, as she turned around, it could be seen that something was still fastened to her chest, right over her heart.

The flower still held the same softness and health as it had when it was gifted, all that time ago before the war - that much could be clearly discerned from the soft shine of its five pale pink petals. Two green leaves curled out from underneath the petals, one sitting just on top of the other, both pointing downwards like overlapping clock hands.

It was not just any cherry blossom, though that was clearly evident from its size - but above any other ways it stood out, it was her flower, a part of her still wholly untainted and free of the weight that the realm of darkness had worn the rest of her down with. A part of her willingly given up to someone who did not even know its true meaning, yet accepted it and treasured it for what it still was - who yet accepted her and treasured her for who she still was - nevertheless.

"You kept it.." was all that Aria could say, taking in the meaning of what she saw with an aura of what seemed like disbelief. She tentatively stood up from the bed to try and get a closer look.

"Of course I did." Clio said reassuringly, lifting the flower from her chest so that it could be put in its rightful place. "It was all I had left of you, and it was a promise that you would come back - so, how could I have not?"

"You really- I- I don't know what to say-" Aria's voice was now shaking with emotion, but she was interrupted when Clio reached out and pulled her cold body into an embrace, carefully placing the flower back where it belonged in the process with her other hand.

There was a moment of pause, as the flower settled back and found the rest - and then all Clio felt was a veritable glow of warmth and love as she held Aria close. She gently eased out of the hug, but only to get to be able to look down and see those catlike eyes of bright amber staring up at her - those eyes that held a visceral, and powerful, and yet no less adoring sense of life behind them now. Despite what the realm of darkness had done to her, and turned her into how she now appeared, no part of her seemed monstrous, anymore.

With a relieved and loving smile, all she could do was lean down and give her girlfriend a kiss on the lips.

"Welcome back, Aria."

[tattoobird]

@lovablenatsume requested their squid kid. I had a blast working on this one haha

[horrorvived]

Garry knows that he looks like a mess. Honestly, what he looks like should be the least of his concerns, but for some reason... it's sticking in his mind right now and he can't quite let it go. Maybe he desperately needs something to focus on that isn't his mental state - but in the end, doesn't it all come back to that, anyway?

He hasn't been sleeping, of course. The few friends he has have finally started showing some concern over him, saying he's acting strangely and asking if he's okay - which is appreciated, but it's not like they could ever actually help. The only one who understands is Ib, and she's... hard to see, right now. He understands that, and he wants her to live her own life too, but he worries, you know?

Well, maybe it's just as much a selfish desire on his end, too... to remind himself that he's not going crazy. And that something good came out of that hellish nightmare, too.

He tries to shake the thoughts aside. He can't go spending every moment of his life dwelling on his traumas, surely? But... maybe he'll see if he can buy Ib a present or something. It'd be nice to see if he can make her smile.

As he starts to browse through the store, though, Garry notices that someone's watching him. Trying to ignore the way his stomach lurches, and the uneasy paranoia in his gut, he finds himself regretting once more how awful he must look right now - goodness, he hopes he hasn't attracted the concern of a stranger now, too...

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry. ...Did you need something from me?"

@dnangelic ( starter! )

[eudikot]

you're a researcher!! that's so cool! if you don't mind me asking, what do you do?

Thank you for the ask, I love talking about my research!! Currently, I'm working on studying barley and its interaction with Pseudomonas fluorescens using a clear hydrogel media instead of soil. I got interested in this project because I think that the ability to grow plants in hydrogel instead of soil to study their roots is such a cool thing, and since I'm majoring in both plant and microbial biotechnology adding the bacterial aspect helps bring everything I'm working on all together (and is something I can make a paper out of). Then to add biotechnology into the equation, we added GFP (green fluorescent protein) into the bacteria, which causes them to glow green when hit with UV light and viewed under a filter. This makes it easier to see the bacteria on the roots.

Because this projects excites me so much and has some cool pictures, I have to share some. The first picture are roots without any bacteria and the second one has the bacteria. Feel free to take a second and see if you can identify any differences between the two images.

The first noticeable thing I see is within the hydrogel itself. The non-bacterial control has a much darker background, likely because there are no bacteria to fluoresce in it. However, you may notice that the roots still have a glow to them. That's actually because plants have autofluorescence based on the proteins/chemicals they produce which was visible through the filter. Now, the things that stand out to me on the bacterial roots compared to the regular ones are that they almost have a rougher appearance, likely due to the bacteria colonies growing on it. And then there is the bright spots of bacteria that are not present on the bacteria-free roots. Seeing such a stark difference so easily (since I have been looking at images of these for a while now and know what I'm looking for) honestly blew me away when this actually seemed to work.

Also, just to talk about autofluorescence again, the chlorophyll in the leaves make the plants so bright in this system. I mean look at that leaf!! I never though I'd see such a pretty plant (the last one looks slightly different from the rest because it was taken with my phone instead of the microscope camera, but catches the entire autofluorescence really well).

And to wrap this whole spiel up, let me give a little background on where I started with doing research. I actually started out by doing data analysis on differential gene expression, or the differences in expression under different conditions. A lot of analysis uses an "out of 100%" model if you will, and because of this if one gene changes expression a lot but everything else stays the same, it'll look like all those genes have lower expression compared to the one that changed even if they might not. You can see how that might be a bit of a problem. I was testing a new R package that would compare gene expression in a different way to bypass this problem and more clearly see what is actually happening to different genes.

Because I was just helping a bit on this project I never saw its conclusions before moving onto other things. I took a side off of that project to get a grant and do a systematic review on how other researchers are describing their gene expression clustering, since in R you need to define the clustering method (how different groups are compared to one another) and the number of clusters you want. Because these are human entered and can change the outcome of the data you're analyzing, it's important that what you do can be replicated, but a lot of researchers were very vague in even what packages they used to cluster. I'm still finishing up that work so hopefully I'll be able to publish a paper on it soon.

Then I've also had fun helping some of our grad students with barley biomass measurements and, my absolute favorite, soil microbe DNA extraction. That student is using differences in the soil microbiome to see if it has an impact on the growth of the barley, and is actually what inspired me to student plant-microbe interactions!

[love-shutdown]

@eusyram​ // starter !

Being sent to a new city was strange enough - but there were so many layers to everything about it! Because first of all - Agape, was sent somewhere. That shouldn’t be possible, given the PC was disconnected from everything. And now he was given a body too, letting him move around freely and interact with things beyond file folders and pictures.

Though it seemed like the phone he had been given didn’t have Internet access - he knew a great way to get information otherwise. Even if it was absolutely outdated.

Obviously, he had found himself in some kind of isekai setting! And isekais were a genre of books and shows. Shows weren’t an option without the Internet which meant...bookstore was his key to success!

...even if instead of looking for something helpful, he found himself floating over someone’s shoulder to peek down at the book they were reading. It seemed like...romance, maybe?

“Wow! Looks like you found a good one, huh?” 

[zenobomber]

@baddestdangerboy​ // spiralefes starter !

Okay, sure, Aki wasn’t really the most socially active guy in his early-twenties. Mostly due to the fact he had been experimented on for a year and then kept under a somewhat loose house arrest inside of the facility he worked in but-! Even he knew there was something up with the building he entered.

It wasn’t his job to judge people - not off the clock, anyways - but he was pretty sure normal nightclub chatter wasn’t people discussing villainous schemes over drinks. Probably. 

...right?

Oh well. The drinks were pretty good, and he couldn’t complain. A lot of the people in here seemed smart, and it was a good way to gather information. So he turned his attention to the first free person he saw and offered a small smile and a vague gesture with the drink he held in his free hand.

“Hey there! This place is pretty nice, huh? Sounds like everyone’s got some good stuff to talk about.”

[nulltune]

❛   ah—   ❜       the small sound leaves her before she could stifle it,  a dainty hand soon raising to her mouth following that slip - up.       ❛   excuse me,  mithra,  what are you eating .. ?   ❜       vocalizing her thoughts,  the question is posed rather evenly;  that soft voice a neutral monotone,  and always polite.   

—she'd asked,  but she had a feeling that whatever it is he's eating is ...  something one would typically not consume.  the thought itself is a bit worrying,  but would that sort of concern unneeded for a northern wizard ?   the answer doesn't come to her so easily,  head canting slightly.  but,  it's best not to do anything that might offend him.  it's no good to be rude.         ❛   ... well,  it is right around lunchtime,  isn't it.  would you like to join me for a meal ?   ❜       a proper one,  she notes that part to herself.

@mithra-del-nord 💀✨️

[bloodiedprints]

“   what   did   you   want   to   tell   me?   ”            //            from   @webreak   |   accepting

a   smirk   danced   across   painted   lips   ,   a   sly   dart   of   her   eyes   across   the   bar   to   peruse   who   was   nearby.      no   one   had   made   home   on   the   bar   stools   nearest   to   the   duo.      PERFECT.      she   rounded   on   fiadh   with   a   little   giggle.   rosie’s   movements   were   graceful   &   smooth;   a   gentleness   that   stood   in   juxtaposition   to   the   commonly   sharp   tone   of   voice.

“   weeeeeeell   honey…   ”   her   bronx   accent   as   thick   as   the   day   she   stepped   off   the   plane   in   london.   sometimes   the   flow   of   conversation   behind   the   bar   was   stilted   between   the   irish   and   new   york   natives,   the   music   often   too   loud   to   make   out   the   other’s   accent.   “   you   remember   whatshisname   from   the   bar   opposite?   the   one   who   came   in   yesterday   with   his   new   fiancée   …   ?   ”   her   eyebrows   raised   conspiratorily   at   reference   to   a   fellow   bartender   –   who   was   not   well   liked   in   the   juno   lounge.   “   well   last   night,   i   was   out   for   dinner   near   by   -   with   a   lovely   fella   off   tinder,   i’ll   tell   you   all   about   it   in   a   bit   -   and   he   walks   in   announcing   an   engagement…   and   darlin’   i   did   not   recognise   the   woman   on   his   arm.   ”

[vanteguccir]

All Too Well | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Chris misplace his priorities.

Warning: Fighting, crying, cursing. ANGST with a happy ending.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N felt her heart sink as she watched Chris frantically scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to her. The silence in the living room echoed the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks, the memory of the previous day's event still fresh in Y/N's mind.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N sighed contentedly as she set the dark wooden table carefully, placing the plates and cutlery impeccably. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing Chris's favorite dish, with fresh ingredients, for the romantic dinner they had planned to have after the triplets recorded the video that would be posted next Friday. Everything was perfect, except for the emptiness that began to settle in her chest as the hours passed and Chris didn't appear.

At eight sharp, Y/N sat at the table, her heart filled with anticipation and anxiety. She watched the stairs leading to the front door with every sound she heard, willing him to come. But as the minutes dragged on, anxiety turned to despair.

Nine o'clock passed, and Y/N was still sitting alone at the table, her stomach churning with hunger and worry and her eyes staring into space, small tears burning her cornea. She tried calling Chris several times, but every call went to voicemail, as well as her messages going unread.

At ten o'clock, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Thick tears began to stream down her face as she looked at the still untouched plate in front of her. The romantic dinner she had so lovingly prepared now seemed like a cruel reminder of her dashed hope.

With a choked sob, Y/N got up from the table, feeling completely desolate, her belly hurting from the weight and sobs that made her body shake. She carefully put the food away in the fridge, her hands shaking with disappointment.

That night, Y/N fell asleep in her boyfriend's room with a heavy heart and eyes swollen with tears, wondering if she would ever have the courage to take some initiative, before it was too late.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was standing in front of the cinema, her heart full of expectation as she held a bucket of popcorn in her hands. She looked from side to side nervously, trying to spot Chris among the crowds rushing along the sidewalk. Time was running out, and her nervousness increased as the clock on her phone showed just ten minutes until the start of the movie, and her boyfriend still hadn't appeared.

And then, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, Y/N's phone vibrated, indicating a new message. She grabbed the device anxiously, hoping to see an apology or explanation from Chris for the delay. But what she heard was something that made her shake with rage.

"Hi, baby." Chris’s voice sounded through the voicemail, but instead of an apology, there was a note of indifference in his words. "I know we planned to go to the movies today, but a last-minute party came up that I really need to go to. Do you remember Tara Yummy? It's hers! Well, I'm sorry for canceling like that at the last minute. Maybe we can meet up later, okay? Bye."

Y/N felt her world collapse upon hearing those words. Chris's betrayal, his indifference to her feelings as he sent her the message just to break her as if it was some kind of promise, cut like a sharp knife. She clutched her phone tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Anger and sadness consumed her, bubbling inside her chest like a volcano about to erupt. With a cry of frustration, Y/N threw the bucket of popcorn and the tickets into the nearest trash bin, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she felt suffocated by disappointment and pain.

And that night, Y/N walked away from the cinema, her heart broken and her confidence destroyed.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Chris." She began, shaking her head gently to shake the memories away, her voice trembling with the anguish she carried. "We need to talk."

Chris looked up from his phone for a moment, his tired eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the bright screen in his hands.

"Not now, Y/N. I'm busy."

Those words hit Y/N like a punch in the stomach. She felt increasingly isolated and neglected, while Chris's world revolved around his career and his influential friends.

"You're always busy, Chris." Y/N murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. "There's never time for us."

Chris sighed, irritation rising across his skin like a shiver. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking up at the girl again, giving her a look full of hatred, which she had never seen before.

"I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that. I can't just ignore my work to pay attention to you."

"I'm not asking you to ignore it." Y/N snapped, her voice rising in desperation. "I'm just asking for a little time for us. For our relationship. Yesterday you-"

Chris shook his head quickly, interrupting her, the traces of frustration deepening on his face.

"I already said I'm sorry! You always do this, Y/N. You're always trying to change who I am and what I do. You always try to change my priorities, like my world has to revolve around you. That's not how things work!"

Those words cut Y/N like a sharp blade, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She wasn't trying to change him. She just wanted to feel like he cared about her as much as he cared about his fame, but instead, he made her feel like a random crumpled up piece of paper.

"I just want you to include me in your life." Y/N whispered, her voice shaking with pain as her eyes blinked repeatedly, her eyelashes slowly becoming wet with tiny droplets from tears. "But it always seems like there's something more important."

Chris snorted, throwing the phone roughly onto his lap and turning abruptly to face her, an expression of disdain filling his eyes.

"You know what? Maybe it would be better if you took some time to think about what you really want, because it seems to me that everything I do isn't enough, and if you're not genuinely happy in this relationship, maybe you should evaluate your preferences!"

Chris' words echoed in Y/N's mind, leaving her stunned. She felt as if she had been hit by a train of conflicting emotions.

With a lump in her throat, the girl stood up from the couch abruptly, her legs shaking under the weight of her grief as her chest burned intensely, anguish gnawing at her insides.

"Maybe you're right." Y/N muttered, shrugging, her voice cracking with pain. "Maybe I need some time to figure out what I really want... Right?"

Chris watched in silence as Y/N walked away, her tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks, her lips pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the sobs that wanted to escape.

The brunette frowned, watching his girlfriend's wet cheeks against the cool light of the room, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten, begging to call her back, and apologize, but the words seemed to get stuck.

And so, Y/N left the triplets house that night, taking with her a broken heart and a soul full of uncertainty about the future of their relationship.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The frigid night air bit into Chris' skin as he walked through the empty streets of LA, his body shaking not only from the cold but also from the anxiety and remorse that consumed him. He couldn't bear another night without Y/N by his side, without feeling her comforting touch and hearing her soft laugh filling the silence.

His steps were heavy and slow, each carrying the weight of days of loneliness and regret that piled up on his shoulders. The memory of Y/N's desolate and disappointed face haunted his thoughts, an image that haunted him incessantly, preventing him from finding peace even at bedtime.

Chris knew he had done wrong, that he had hurt the person he loved most in the world with his negligence and misplaced priorities. He blamed himself for his actions, for putting his work and his friends before her, for leaving her alone and helpless at times when she needed him most, or just wanted his company and love.

The mere memory of coming home on Thursday before everything fell apart, and finally seeing all the lost messages from his girl, along with a plate full of his favorite food neatly packed in the fridge made his heart ache as if human hands were squeezing it.

As he made his way through the deserted streets, the silence of the night was deafening, a cruel metaphor for the loneliness he had caused himself. Each step brought him closer to the home that had once been his refuge, the place where he found comfort in Y/N's arms and where he hoped he could right the wrongs he had done.

Finally, the brunette arrived at the door of the small, simple house, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he hesitated to ring the doorbell. He knew he didn't deserve Y/N's forgiveness, that his empty words and broken promises couldn't erase the pain he caused.

But he had to try. He had to show her that he was sorry, that he loved her more than anything in this world, and that he would do anything to have her back by his side.

With a shaky sigh, Chris finally pressed the doorbell and waited, his heart hammering in his chest as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in an act of nervousness, the cold of the night penetrating his bones.

On the other side of the door, Y/N hesitated, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to gather the courage to face the stranger that was there. The last few days had been a storm of sadness and loneliness, her mind spinning in circles of anguish as she struggled to understand what had happened between her and Chris, where everything went wrong.

When she finally mustered enough courage to turn the doorknob, what she saw made her freeze in place. Chris was there, standing in front of her, his eyes red and swollen from crying. His face was contorted into an expression of pain and regret, and Y/N felt her heart tighten even more at the sight of the person she loved so much in a deplorable state.

"Chris." Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process the scene before her eyes.

Chris didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just sobbed, thick tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he fought to contain the overwhelming emotions that overwhelmed him. His body shook violently, each sob a painful reminder of all the mistakes he had made in the last few weeks.

Y/N felt tears in her own eyes as she looked at him, her heart breaking at the pain she saw reflected in his eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped Chris in a tight hug, letting him cry on her shoulder as she gently stroked his hair, her own tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

For long minutes, they stayed there, lost in each other's arms that transcended the words and hurts. It was as if, in that moment, their wounded souls found a refuge in each other, a source of comfort and peace amid the chaos their lives had become.

"Baby! B-baby, I'm- I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry-" The boy's words came out in broken sobs, his words almost incomprehensible.

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her heart clenching by her own pain. With a sigh, she pulled away lightly, holding his hand firmly and gently guiding him into her house, closing the door behind them, the warmth of the walls enveloping their cold bodies.

Y/N led Chris over to the living room couch, keeping a cautious distance as he sat down next to her on the cushioned seat. Uncomfortable silence hung between them, filled with tension and unspoken emotions, as Y/N waited patiently for Chris to find the words to express what was in his heart.

Finally, after a long moment, Chris broke the silence, his voice still cracked from his recent crying.

"Baby, I... I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you deeply with my actions, and I never wanted to make you feel that way."

Chris sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to find the right words, his right leg bouncing up and down in anxiety.

"I was so obsessed with YouTube, with my success, that I ended up neglecting the most important thing in my life: you. I got lost in the cool lights and the adrenaline of fame, and I forgot how much you mean to me. And I'm so fucking sorry for that." His lower lip trembled slightly, making him trap it between his teeth.

The boy's words cut deep into Y/N, reigniting the pain and hurt she had kept inside. She felt tempted to step away to protect her heart from the possibility of being hurt again. But something in Chris's eyes made her hesitate, something she recognized as genuine regret and love.

"Chris..." Y/N began, her voice shaky and filled with uncertainty. "You don't understand how much it hurt me every time you kept me waiting, every time you put your work and your friends before me. I felt so alone, so unappreciated."

"I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I would do anything to make things right, to prove that you're my real priority." Chris lowered his head, frowning and fixing his eyes on his legs, guilt weighing on his shoulders.

Y/N raised her right hand, taking it to his chin covered with the beard he had let grow in the last few days, pushing it up so that she could look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation reflected there.

She wanted to believe him and wanted to open her heart to forgiveness and the possibility of a future together again. But the pain of everything that had been done brought her such insecurity that she knew she needed time to heal.

"I don't know, Chris." Y/N murmured, the hand that was holding his chin falling with a thud onto her lap. "I'm still hurt, I'm still trying to process everything that happened. I don't know if I can just forgive and forget."

Chris swallowed hard, fear evident in his eyes as his mind screamed at him to do everything, anything. Even if he needed to kneel in front of his girl to get her back.

"Please, Y/N. I promise I'll do everything to make this right, to be the boyfriend you deserve. Just give me a chance to prove that I can change."

Y/N looked at him again, seeing the vulnerability in his gaze. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but there was something about Chris, something she couldn't ignore, something that gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to the way they were before.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N reached her hand out to Chris again, taking his and intertwining their fingers tightly, her heart warming with the touch she had missed so much.

"I forgive you, Chris." She murmured, her voice sounding soft but her eyes carrying an indescribable firmness. "But know that things are going to have to change. Your priorities are going to have to take the right path this time."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[fyodorloveclub]

I NEED YOU!

✩ pairing: alpha!fyodor x omega!reader

✩ cw: omegaverse, reader in heat, knotting, brief somno, piv missionary sex, mention of pups, mention of morning after pills. just kind of a quick fuck dsfklds 18+ minors DNI !!

✩ notes: breedtober fic 3!! so sorry for the delay!

want more of breedtober?

“F-Fyodor,” you whine, grabbing at his arm weakly. “Fedya, baby, please.”

The feeble attempt to wake your peacefully sleeping lover is about as successful as you thought it would be – completely futile. Well, if you were in a state of normal thought.

You yourself had just awoken only minutes before, clothes and sheets drenched in sweat as your skin burned, and your entire body shook as all of your nerve endings felt like they were on fire. It all could’ve been chalked up to a virus, as you did suspect a fever, but only one thing could be the culprit responsible for the all-too-familiar ache between your legs, paired with your clouded headspace.

You were in heat.

It was a whole month too early – it shouldn’t be happening, but it was. And there was no denying it – not when you reached down between your legs and your fingers returned soaked in slick and juices, and you found yourself groaning for more.

Heat affected and clouded your mind pretty badly – it wasn’t uncommon for you to not remember much of anything from a cycle, and that seemed to be the case now. You could barely tell your left from your right, but the one thing you did know above all else, was that you needed to get fucked, and now.

Despite your weakness and lack of coordination, you still found yourself climbing on top of your sleeping lover and tugging down his boxers before grinding against his soft cock. Still thinking it was worth a shot, you tried to slide it inside you for some relief as your oozing cunt ached, but it just wasn’t working. Spitting into your palm, your hands and thighs shake as you start to jack Fyodor off in hopes of getting him hard enough to fuck yourself on him.

And that’s what he woke up to – you straddling him, pumping and sucking on his soft cock as it slowly grew. And though your movements were erratic and not the most pleasurable, Fyodor’s body began to respond. By the time the man was fully awake, you were lining yourself up and trying to sink down onto him, but your aim just wasn’t good enough.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Fyodor asks, grabbing your waist to stabilize you before sitting up. “What’s wrong?” His eyes went wide as you started to break down.

“I’m in heat, Fedya,” you sobbed, falling against him.

“Wh-what?” he stammers, his fatigued brain trying to recall the date. “I thought it wasn’t due for another month.” Though the sickeningly sweet scent coming from you that filled his nostrils confirmed you were telling the truth.

“I don’t know,” you cried.

“It’s okay, my love,” he soothes, pulling you close to his chest and rocking you. “You’ll be okay. I’m here. What can I do to help?” His accent is thick, evidence of his exhaustion.

Your answer is immediate. “Please fuck me!”

The crude words briefly stun Fyodor, but he just nods before kissing your cheek. He is half-hard anyway.

Laying you gently on your back, your lover’s touch is soft as he hovers over you, spreading your legs apart. Normally he fingers you or pleasures you with his tongue before fucking you, but your whines and cries are shrill to his tired ears, and you are most certainly wet enough for it.

With his lips pressed to yours, Fyodor spreads your legs and lines himself up, groaning as he sinks his cock into your throbbing pussy.

“Going to take good care of you, my love,” he mutters into your ear, accent thick. You just nod mewl in response.

He begins to roll his hips against yours as you attach yourself to him, circling your arms around his neck and damn near howling as he bottoms out.

“Fedya!” you cry out, toes curling and spreading your legs even wider. “More, faster, please.”

“So, so needy, aren’t we?” he chuckles. And yes – you are. So fucking needy.

Fyodor gives you what you need, quickly building up a rhythm. The squelching sounds of sex and skin-on-skin fill the bedroom alongside both of your breathy moans.

He knows that when you’re in heat, your breasts tend to become really sore as well, so he takes the liberty of catching your nipple in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive bud and massaging the other breast with his hand in rhythm with his thrusts. You only howl and groan more at the welcome stimulation, whining his name over and over like a spell. The bed creaks and shakes with how hard he fucks you, now invested in chasing his own high.

“Please knot me, Fyodor, please,” you cry. “Need your pups.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” he’s soothing again after releasing your nipple from his mouth, petting your hair and kissing you.

It’s not long before he gives you what you desperately need. Alpha’s knots typically don’t swell during sex, but they can if their omega is in heat – and you were releasing more than enough pheromones to alert Fyodor’s body of that.

As he nears his high, the base of his cock swells, trapping him inside you before he’s spilling all of into you with a deep throaty groan. The two of you weren’t ready for pups yet, but it’s fine – you have a bathroom drawer of heat supplies well-stocked with morning after pills.

Though his knot wouldn’t be deflated enough to pull out for at least another twenty minutes you had already passed out, so Fyodor very gently maneuvered the two of you so that you were laying on top of him, allowing you to lay against his chest and for him to return to a sleeping position while he remained inside your tight cunt. You likely would need him again soon, anyway.

“Thank you, my sweet, sweet Fedya,” you mumble against his chest.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he smiles, kissing the top of your forehead. “Get some rest. We’ll need it.”

[the-doomed-witch]

SHOWER THOUGHTS

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: Wanda just kinda ✨punishing✨ you

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; MINORS+MEN DNI. not proof read. masturbation, exhibitionism but like in private?, top!wanda, degradation, kind of praise?, shower sex, heavy orgasm control, vibrators, oral (r receiving), fingering (both), etc etc you get all that. this is smutty

Author’s Note: well anyways hi i randomly had a ✨thot✨ about the shower thing, hope you like it ;)) besides, wanda with nipple piercings 🤤

(gif credits to creator)

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION // REQUESTS CLOSED

— ✦ —

The absence of Wanda was frustrating. Whenever she was off to work related trips, she always left with you begging for more. “Don’t touch yourself when mommy is away, okay baby?” she says, every single time before she leaves. And you nod like an obedient pup. So you are used to it all.

But it was different this time, she’d been gone for too long a trip. The heat between your thighs has been throbbing for days now. And today, it’s time for her to return.

Unfortunately for you, her flight has been delayed, and she’s gonna take a few more hours to arrive. You, a fully frustrated and wild driven person, had to wait another 6 hours for Wanda to come and take care of you.

It can’t be hard, a bit of dry humping here and there at every given instance should work for a few hours. Except it clearly doesn’t.

You do your everyday tasks, trying to distract the tingling sensation underneath. Fuck, it’s hard to even walk around in the supermarket. You go back home and lay down on the bed, try to sleep, and whatnot.

You estimate about 2 hours before Wanda reaches home, so your hands instinctively reach the belt around your waist, unlocking the buckle. The pants go down, and along goes the black lace you specifically picked out for the day.

Gently goes first finger in, then goes the second. Insert a third one, and you’re panting heavily. It’s not even close to the magic of Wanda’s hands. Wanda’s hands. Oh. You daydream of her fingering you instead of yourself. Soft, little moans and pants.

“Guess who hasn’t been a good girl for mommy.” you suddenly hear a familiar voice and freeze in your actions, fingers still deep inside of you. A part of you is overly excited to see her after more than a week, the other part is scared of all the things she would be doing to you just because of this.

“M-mommy I was so tired. I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll get to that later. But first, let me see how you fuck your dumb self honey. Move your fingers, show mommy what she’s taught you.”

You shift your position in bed to give her a better view of it all, legs spreading wider and wider. The wet sloshing sounds fill the bedroom when you thrust your fingers in and out of the pussy, as Wanda enjoys the show.

As your moans grow louder, she grabs your wrist and holds it in place. The sudden loss of pace made you shudder from head to toe. “Mommy!” you scream out loudly.

“What? You thought you could come despite not following my orders? You thought mommy wouldn’t punish you? What a whore.”

Her hand reaches your neck, holding you in place as she climbs on the top. Slowly, she bends down and captures your lips in a deep kiss. She then pulls away and caresses your forehead with her other hand, whispering, “I missed you, detka, so much. Care to take a shower with me? I could really use a hot shower today.” With a strained voice, you mumble a yes.

— ✦ —

She pulled your wet naked body against hers, behind you. Taking the handheld shower in her hands, she held it against your throbbing cunt. It felt fucking good, but the pressure was shaking your entire body.

“Tell mommy you’re sorry for touching the pussy that belongs to her.”

“I’m s-o-sorry, mommy. I promise I won’t do this again.”

“Say it again.” So you repeat it. “Tell me that this pussy belongs to me and me only.” The pressure of the water had left you incapable of speech. You pause for a moment and stutter, “Th-” Before any other word comes out of your mouth, she sets it to full speed. God.

“Say it, bitch. Or do you want me to punish you?” she pinches your right nipple hard and you let out an animalistic moan. Your back arches, as you keep a grip on the tiled bathroom wall and the fogged glass on the other side to stop yourself from falling down. “This p-pussy is all y-yours, mommy. N-no one else’s.”

“Good.” she speaks in a sultry voice against your earlobe. Her right hand is completely focused on ruining your cunt with just a hand shower, and the other is gripping your body. You can feel her wet tits behind you, along with their piercings.

She moves your slick hair out of her way and starts leaving bite marks all over your shoulders, collarbone, neck, and back. With each bite, you let out more and more shrieks. It all comes down to you asking permission to come, and her denying it.

She places the shower back and you arch at the loss of all the friction. “Let mommy play a little more.” she says, and you submit once again.

Throughout the steamy shower, besides relaxing herself, her hands glided along your whole body. She would grab your breasts, chin, waist, neck. Occasionally, she inserted a digit inside of you, and pulled out immediately. You would take it all just as she wanted, sometimes holding her tits and nibbling on her piercings, too.

It was a pleasing torture till she brought you back inside the bedroom, wrapped in a towel.

Wanda tells you to lay down on the bed. So you do, and spread yourself all over, finally excited for her to get rid of the burning sensation you’ve been feeling down there. She rummages through a drawer, searching for a nice toy for her to use.

Back to the bed, she brings a vibrator. “Aw honey, look at you, so needy that your legs are so apart. Why don’t you have some patience? Let mommy take care. I’m gonna tie your hands now, okay?” and here you nod like a pup yet again.

She ties your hands behind you, and makes you sit up. She sits opposite to you, and turns on the toy. Finally, you think, it’s the moment. She licks its head seductively till it’s drenching in her saliva before she places it on her own folds. “M-mommy-”

“Not now baby, mommy wants a good time for herself. You can watch her come, and maybe get to taste it if you’re good.”

Wanda’s moans are heavy, as she tortures her clit with the toy. Her legs tremble, trying to close in but she keeps them apart for you to see. The second you moan at the sight of her, she comes hard, making a mess on the bed.

She shifts her body, and rubs all of her cunt against yours till you are covered in her juices. Your now oversensitive body gives in and you come against her. She pulls you into a deep intense kiss as you both grind against each other. Drops of sweat roll down her face as she tries hard not to break eye contact with you.

Her hands grab the vibrator again, and she places it between the two of you. As if drinking your screams down, she holds you in for a kiss for longer than you could keep it. You come again, and when her fingers find their way in, you do it once again.

— ✦ —

“Mommy please. No more… hurts.”

“One small taste would do, baby? Can I taste you once again? Just a lick, I promise.”

“Mmhmm”

She goes down, and tastes your messy cunt, humming as she eats you out. You twitch at her nibbling on your folds. Your hands grab her auburn hair to pull her head away, but your thighs close in on her. You release yourself undone all over her face yet again. She gets back up, placing her lips against your lips softly, letting her tongue give you a taste of yourself.

She doesn’t stop soon, but when she does, your entire body is quivering and so is hers.

“Fuck Wanda, that was so… so fucking hot.”

“Oh Y/N… you don’t know how fucking needy I’ve been for as long as I’ve been away. I needed you so bad-” Looking at her state, she hasn’t clearly finished yet. You begin pumping your fingers in and out of her rapidly. Her head rises up as her chest contracts and expands with her puffs. She repeats, “Oh goodness- so bad.”

Her lips once again clash against your in a sloppy kiss, she’d been obviously desperate but hesitated to show it, unlike you.

“Wans, I love you so much. I’ll be a good girl next time, I promise.”

“Oh malyshka, you are a good girl to me. You’re my good girl.”

[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."