#I have so so much on this pairing. I’m INSANE

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

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Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.9 K Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort (but also not?) Prompt: It was nice to be in Remus' arms, but now it's time to face the real world. Will you be able to do it? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Disclaimer: Vixen’s coping mechanisms are not healthy, please go to therapy and actually process your feelings instead <3

Chapter 47: Let Me Take You Home Tonight

You walked alongside Remus through the tunnel. The floor was cold against your bare feet, and the more you walked, the more you could feel the pain caused by the blisters in your soles. You wondered for a moment if that’s what ballerinas felt after wearing pointe shoes. 

Remus kept throwing glances at you as you walked, you thought you were good at hiding it, but he could hear your jaw clenching and your ragged breath as you moved, sometimes cutting short from stepping on something sharp. 

“Do you want to take my shoes?” he asked you. 

“What?” you asked confused as you turned to him. “No, I’m–” you wanted to say fine, you weren’t sure you could make it sound believable, “It’ll be better once Pomfrey gets a look, I’m sure.” 

“But until then, you’d be in pain.”

You sighed, “You know fae don’t normally wear shoes.” 

“You’re only a quarter fae,” he responded. “And they live in the woods, and fly.”  

You huffed in response to that, he wasn’t wrong. But still, you weren’t going to take his shoes. Your feet were already hurt, his weren’t. 

“Can I borrow your wand?” you asked as you turned to him, he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. 

You took it in your hands and waved it over your feet “Episkey,” you whispered, the same spell you had used to fix Peter’s nose before his date. It didn’t completely heal your feet, but the blisters were gone and walking wasn’t as painful as before. 

You didn’t like using healing spells, they tended to be complicated and could go awfully wrong, especially without your actual wand, but you already knew Remus’ wand liked you since she had allowed you to use it in the past, so you decided to risk it, if only to bring Remus some peace of mind. 

“Thank you,” you added as you straightened back up and handed over his wand. 

“Are you sure you don’t want them?” he insisted, half pulling one and you just shook your head again in response. His offer was sweet, awfully sweet, but you wouldn’t have him feel pain at your stake, two people had done that for you in the last 24 hours, and neither of them had survived. 

Remus still wasn’t convinced, but he walked alongside you, nonetheless. He knew you were still in pain, and he wanted to do anything he could to help you, but he also knew what it was like to be in pain and be constantly reminded about it by people, so he decided to let you have it, he’d take care of you once you were with Pomfrey. 

By the time you arrived at the end of the hallway, you saw the small hole you’d have to climb, the one that was much easier to climb as Vixen than as yourself, and you wondered how Remus had gotten used to it. 

“Wait here,” he said as he climbed up the area with ease, placing his feet and hand on strategic places to make his ascent much easier. He was insanely good at it, almost like Spider-Man. A few seconds passed and then you saw his hand drop back inside, “All right, the Willow is calm now, come on up.” 

You used one of the spots he had used to propel yourself forward and grabbed onto his outstretched hand, your own closing around his forearm as he did the same to yours. And then he helped you up almost the rest of the way. Hauling you towards him like you weighed nothing. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you stepped outside, the light being a little harsh on your dark accustomed eyes, which had you narrow them as you looked ahead. The ground was still filled with snow, and you still didn’t have shoes. You looked at your bare feet for a second before turning to Remus. 

“May I borrow your wand again?” you asked with a sigh. 

“What are you going to do? Melt the snow?” he asked in disbelief. 

“I was planning to use a warming spell…” you admitted.

“Ridiculous.” 

“I’m still not going to take your shoes.”

“Yeah I know, you’re stubborn as hell,” he said with a huff as he crouched down in front of you, “Come on, hop in.” 

“You’re planning to piggyback ride me all the way to the castle? You are the ridiculous one!” 

“What? Like it would be hard,” he said as he turned his head towards you. You gave him a suspicious look in return. “Hello? The best friend who also happens to be a werewolf? Superhuman strength, and all that, ringing any bells?” 

You sighed, “But Remus–” 

“But Remus me one more time and I will carry you without consent, you have been warned.” 

“You wouldn’t dare!” 

“Wanna test it?” he asked, as he raised one of his eyebrows. 

He just might, you thought as you shook your head and did what you were told. 

“See?” he said as he straightened up and started to walk, “Was it that hard?”

“Yes,” you said with a pout as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Remus was awfully comfortable, but you supposed he had always been, “I don’t want to be burdensome,” you mumbled, “the moon was just a couple of days ago, you must still be sore–”

“You are not burdensome,” he said almost instantly. Emphasising the “not” in the very articulated way he used to talk when he was in presentations. 

“You’re too nice,” you mumbled as you dug your head deeper into his shoulder, your lips brushing against his neck causing him to shiver. “You cold?” you asked. 

“No,” he responded. 

“Are you sure?” you insisted, you had felt him tremble, “I could cast a warming spell around the two of us,” you added as you extended your hand in an attempt to get a hold of his wand, but that just caused your lips to brush against his neck again. 

“I’m good,” he repeated as he shoved you back with his shoulder, not too sharp, but enough to drive your mouth away from his neck. That’s when you noticed. 

You frowned, and then a devious smile appeared on your lips, “Are you… ticklish?” you asked tentatively. 

“What? Why do you want to know?” Remus asked with a frown, his head turning your way. 

“Just curious,” you replied with an innocent shrug. Remus gave you a side glance and then turned back to the castle. You had already crossed the entrance archway and were a lot closer than you’d been before. You smiled, and leaned a little closer to him again, taking in a deep breath and blowing some warm air straight to his neck. 

Remus’ hair stood on end as you did that, and his step faltered as if he was about to trip, but he recovered, “What the–” he couldn’t even finish since you did it again. 

“Vixen!” he complained, you just laughed. It was torture, but there was something magical about your unabashed laugh that he wasn’t sure if he really wanted you to stop or not. When you did it again, this time blowing closer to his ear, he couldn’t hold back the cackle that escaped his lips.

“Oi! Please stop!” He managed to say in between chuckles. 

“But I’m trying to warm you,” you said innocently and blew again. 

Remus tried to use his shoulder to push you away from his neck but was unsuccessful, he didn’t want to let go of your legs since he knew then you’d slide off him so he continued moving his shoulders in an attempt to stop you. 

“Little Witch!” he whined. 

“What?” you asked, “You’re cold, I’m just trying to help.” 

“Such a vicious lie–” he couldn’t even finish, since you blew again, this time, he actually tripped and the two of you ended up spiralling down in the snow. 

Remus attempted to break the fall, but the way he tripped didn’t help him much, so you were the one to hit the snow first, and due to the way you were grabbing onto him, he ended up in between your legs with his head being cushioned by your stomach. 

There was a second of silence, in which you tried to breathe in some of the air that had escaped your lungs from the sharp fall, but you started to laugh right after. Remus raised his head from your stomach to look at you, to check if you were all right and was surprised to see you smiling so brightly. 

“Look at you,” you said as you grabbed his head with both of your hands. “You’re so red, I had no idea you were that ticklish! The mighty werewolf, who would have thought?”

“I thought you were hungry,” he said as he tried to shake your hands off. He hadn’t blushed just because you were blowing air in his neck, or perhaps it had been because it was you the one doing it. 

“I am, but messing with you is better than eating,” you replied with a smile and then shivered involuntarily. 

He noticed instantly and scrambled into a standing position. Pulling you up so fast it took you some time to regain balance, “Remus!” you argued at his harshness but he ignored you, pulling you up and slinging you across his shoulder. “Remus!” 

“I warned you, Sweetheart,” he said simply, starting a much quicker pace to the castle, even inside, he didn’t let go of you. 

“Remus, what are you–” you asked as you noticed the path he was taking, “I would have walked to the infirmary,” you said with a huff. 

“Rather not to risk it,” he said simply. 

When you reached the infirmary, he dropped you into one of the beds and went straight to talk to Pomfrey as you stretched and sat on the edge of the mattress.  

She looked at you with a worried sigh as she passed her wand over your body. “You were slightly hypothermic when he found you,” she said as she leaned down to check both of your feet. It felt weird, you had gotten hurt so often lately and you had avoided the infirmary like the plague most of the times that, being checked by a medic felt odd. Like you couldn’t deal with your pain by yourself, which was absolutely ridiculous, even Remus went to the infirmary and he was tougher than you.

You hummed in response to that, “Rem helped me warm up,” you added. She gave a side glance to the boy, he was blushing, and Remus didn’t blush often, she nodded. 

“Remus, darling, could you please leave us alone for a second?” He hesitated but nodded, and walked outside. “Darling, he did more than just warm you,” she said. “News fly fast here, I heard of everything that happened, how’s your magic?” 

You took a deep breath, “It’s… It’s all right,” you said honestly. “It was almost gone after the Fiendfyre but it’s much better today.” 

She nodded, she could feel it, you were pretty much refuelled, it would have taken any normal witch days to refuel after something like that, she had heard about you being mixed race but she suspected your speed recovery had a lot more to do with Remus than it did with you.  

“Please lay on the bed.” She was checking your knees and dabbing some potions on them with a small cotton ball. “Why did you come here?” 

“Here?” you asked with a frown. 

“Instead of Saint Mungo’s, instead of home?” 

“I don’t think I have one of those anymore,” you admitted as you avoided her gaze. “My father cannot be happy with what I did. Hogwarts was the safest place for me. And… I should probably speak to Dumbledore.” 

“You should rest first,” she corrected, “politics can wait.” 

You threw her a worried glance, and she gave you a “no-nonsense” sort of gaze, you had you hold back your argument. 

Still, it wasn’t politics, it was a matter of life and…

 You didn’t want to think much about it either. She checked your breathing, and your face, even pulling your sleeve up slightly to check the bite you had given yourself. 

“That’ll take a bit longer to heal,” she said, she easily noticed it hadn’t been a simple human tooth to tear through the skin, and while she wasn’t sure how exactly you had managed to do it, she knew it had to do with a transfiguration. 

“I assumed it would,” you agreed and covered your arm with your sleeve again. You were pretty sure Remus hadn’t seen it, and you didn’t need him to see yet another way in which you had been hurt. Seeing you bawl your eyes out last night was enough. Merlin, he must think I’m so weak. 

“I don’t know the full scope of the story, luv,” she said slowly as if she wasn’t sure if he should speak or not. “But… From what Dumbledore told me in his note, which he heard from someone who was also at the dinner, you ended up in the situation you did because you tried to help a muggle-born who was being tortured by the Dark Lord. That was very brave of you.” 

You turned to look at her, there was somewhat of a reverential tone in the way she was looking at you that made your throat knot. You weren’t a hero, you didn’t want to be perceived as one either, especially not with how things had ended up. 

Nina was gone and you would have diеd if Barty Crouch of all people hadn’t helped you get the fuck out. You would have cried over her until Lucius used a spell that wiped you off the map. You had tried to make justice and you had succeeded at nothing but making things worse and getting people killed. 

You tried and failed. You weren’t a hero, you were a failure. You hadn’t been brave, you had been reckless and stupid. But if things happened all over again, would you have allowed Nina to be tortured? Would you have allowed Bellatrix to kill her? 

Of course not. 

“She still diеd,” you said, avoiding her gaze entirely. 

Pomfrey placed her hand over yours, “I don’t know many that would have tried, darling,” she reassured. “She was lucky to have you as a friend.” 

You didn’t want to cry again, but her words had been enough to crack you up. She brought you close to her chest and rubbed your back as you sobbed. You hated it, the feeling of tears streaming down your face, it made you feel weak. 

After a few minutes, you sniffed and tried to wipe your face again. Pomfrey had been patient and kind and she even handed over a small, cloth handkerchief for you to wipe the tears away. “Here, take this, darling,” she said as she handed over a bottle of pepperup potion. “It’ll help the rest of the chills go away,” she explained. “One sip every two hours, It’s just for precautions.” 

She had cured your feet and knees, the bite you had given yourself didn’t hurt anymore and after taking a bit of the potion, the shivering was gone. 

“Will I have to stay the night?” you asked her. 

She gave you a long look, after what you’d been through, the last thing that you’d want was to stay at an infirmary. Would she rather have you stay? Sure she would. But while she was worried about your physical state, she also knew the emotional one was important, and you looked like you needed a bit of normalcy and quiet. She sighed, “You may go back to your common room.” 

You took a deep breath and nodded. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and then Remus walked inside. He had a backpack slung across his shoulder as he walked inside. “Will she stay the night?” he asked. 

“Just got cleared up,” you replied. He could see you had been crying again. 

“Really?” He asked Pomfrey with a frown. He had planned to stay at the infirmary overnight with you. 

“Really,” Pomfrey nodded. “But no walking around barefoot. A warm bath will probably do you good.” 

Remus gave you the “I told you so” look and pulled a pair of slippers you must have left in his room one of the nights you stayed over. 

You smiled and stood up while popping them on, then the two of you walked towards the exit. 

“Remus?” The Mediwitch called as he was about to step out. 

“Yes?” he asked, turning his head towards her.

“Keep taking care of her like you’ve been doing.” 

He smiled and nodded, “Will do!”

“I brought you some of Sirius’ clothes,” Remus said as he nodded to the backpack behind him, "I thought she’d have you stay the night.”

“Me too,” you admitted. “But it looks like I wasn’t that bad off to begin with. She said you helped a lot last night.” 

Remus shrugged in response. 

You got to the common room and it was completely empty, “No other Gryffindors stayed over?” You asked as you walked the stairs alongside him.

“A first year and a third year,” he said. “They must be in Hogsmeade with Minnie now,” he said with a shrug. 

“Oh,” you responded simply. He opened the door to his room and the two of you walked inside.

“Remus,” a voice said from the radio. “Remus, are you there?” 

You smiled, it was Sirius. You turned to Remus, questioning and he nodded. You walked straight to his bed, where the radio lay and sat down right in front of him, looking for the microphone. Once you got a hold of it, you pressed the side button like you had seen people do in movies. “Roger that soldier, the squad is on their way,” you said in a deeper voice. 

There was no answer from the other side, Remus pulled out the mirror to see what was happening. Sirius was looking at James with a confused face. 

“Soldier, do you copy?” you insisted. 

Remus barely kept a straight face. 

“…Starshine?!” Sirius asked, half doubtful. 

You smiled, debating whether to continue with the prank or not, “Indeed, Pups,” you replied, in your voice. 

Remus saw the instant relief of Sirius through the mirror, and James leaned a little bit closer to the radio as well. 

“How ARE you?” he asked. 

Right, Sirius had seen it all. 

“Well, Remus and Pomfrey took care of me,” you replied with a shrug, even if he couldn���t see it. Your demeanour had changed like rapid fire, it’s like you did everything you could to shove last night to a dark part and completely forget about it but people kept bringing it up. 

He saw Sirius sigh on the other side, and he turned to the mirror, spotting Remus looking at him attentively, he pressed the button. “Kit, that’s not what I–” He sent Remus a questioning look, Remus shook his head in response. He could talk to you about it later when you actually wanted to talk about it. “Did you like my gift?” 

“I loved it!” you said, happy he didn’t ask much more about last night. Remus walked next to you on the bed and handed the mirror over. 

You looked at both Sirius and James sitting on the bed, Sirius looked like he had slept about as well as you had, there were deep dark circles under his eyes. If he had seen what you had… He might be the only person besides Remus, who understood what you were feeling, or at least had a vague idea of it, and yet… you refused to talk about it. 

Not now, not through the damn radio, you tried to justify yourself. You were well aware ignoring your feelings wasn’t quite healthy, but you didn’t know a better way to cope either. Crying until you were tired wasn’t exactly a better option either, not now when you still had things to do. Maybe after the war was over, after your friends were safe, then you’d allow yourself to cry. 

“Yeah?” Sirius asked with a smile. You nodded in return, looking at him through the mirror. He was wearing one of the shirts you’d gotten him. “I loved what you sent me,” he responded. “I’ve already been practising some watercolour stuff.” 

Good, this was good, as if nothing had happened. 

“Me too,” James intervened by snatching the microphone away from Sirius. “I mean I haven’t been practising watercolour, but I loved your gifts.” 

You send him a wink through the mirror and spend about half an hour chatting with them about anything other than what had happened. 

At some point, the boys had to go for lunch and you said a quick goodbye to them before allowing yourself to recline back on Remus’ bed. You wanted to keep your mind entertained, “We should go to the library,” you said out of a sudden, “or to eat, you said I could eat after Pomfrey.” 

“You should bathe first, she said a warm bath should help you feel better,” Remus said as he placed his hand on your head to check your temperature. You were still borderline cold.  

You checked the clock and took a sip of the pepperup potion Pomfrey had given you. Smoke came out of your ears for a couple of seconds. You were thankful for the fact that you didn’t have to drink it all in one go, you didn’t like the smoke thing one bit. It wasn’t painful, but you didn’t find it exactly comfortable either. 

“Yes Mum,” you said as you let yourself sink deeper into the bed. 

“Well then?” 

“I don’t want to leave,” you whined, and you really didn’t. Being alone would only have you spiralling deep in your head, and in your thoughts, and nothing good could come from that. You turned to look at him, “Why don’t you read to me instead?” 

“Why don’t you get an audiobook?” he retorted almost without thinking, “Besides I thought you were hungry.” 

“Doesn’t sound as nice as you do, and I’m starving,” you said as you turned back to the ceiling with a sigh. Remus attempted to hide the blush that crept up his cheeks by turning to the side.

“I’ll read to you after you take a warm bath like Pomfrey instructed. I’ll even read while you eat if you want.”  

You pouted in return, but you did want to change into anything other than the black dress you still had on –even if Remus’ jumper over it was warm– so you decided the deal was fair. 

You stood up and walked towards the door. “What are you doing? Just use our bathroom,” Remus said as he pointed to said place’s door. 

“Clothes,” you said as if it were obvious. 

“Want me to get them for you?” 

“And you’ll pick my underwear?” you teased with a smile. Remus couldn’t help but blush at the thought and you laughed openly at him. “Ugh, you’re such a prude. I can barely believe you were fucking Alice for like 3 months.”

“Oi!” he complained with a frown. “She never asked me to pick out her underwear.” 

“Poor thing,” you said with a pout. 

“As if Sirius had ever picked your underwear.” 

“Oh, do you wanna know what else he got me for Christmas?” He hadn’t gotten you anything of the sort, but the more you spoke, the redder Remus became, and you thought it was adorable. 

“Get your clothes, I’ll run the bath for you,” he said as he pretty much pushed you out of the room. 

“Not too hot!” you said as he closed the door in your face. He heard you say a short “hmph” and walked down the stairs. He leaned his head against the door and had to breathe deeply for a couple of seconds to cool down. 

Had Sirius really gotten you underwear for Christmas? He didn’t tell him about it… And they had discussed presents rather often. Then again, would he even mention that sort of stuff to me? he wondered. He stayed at the door for a few more minutes and then he walked to the bathroom, sitting down on the edge of the tub as he opened the water tap, first hot, and then just a bit of cold. 

Remus was a hot water shower kind of guy, borderline scalding, so when he measured the temperature, he picked it a little hotter than the standard person would. But then again, he didn’t know how long you’d take, so the water might cool down by the time you came back. 

No such luck, you had been quick on your feet, as soon as you got to the room stripping the black dress you’d been wearing. It was a stunning piece at the beginning of the night, now it had been torn and worn out from the fall, there was dried bIood clinging to the skirt and to the edges of the sleeves, both yours and Nina’s. You didn’t want to see the dress again, so you threw it in the laundry with a note for the elves, asking them kindly to get rid of it. 

You would have done it yourself, but you still didn’t have a wand and attempting evanesco without one seemed like the recipe for disaster. 

After that, you grabbed a simple pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. You also took a jumper that you had swiped from Remus and then placed it all in your backpack along with some toiletries. You were thankful you hadn’t packed any of your clothes to take home, although there were some things there you would miss. The clothes you had been wearing on the trip –Remus’ brown jumper and Sirius’ shirt–, the cute stuffed animal you’d gotten from the Slytherins, the books, and… of course, Sirius’ lovely drawing.

You almost broke down to cry again, the realisation that you’d never be able to go back home, that you would never eat your mother’s soup, hitting you like a truck as you thought of the things left behind. But as your eyes watered and your breath started running short you stood up hastily. Tears wouldn’t come if you didn’t give them enough time. 

You took a bathrobe, wrapped it around yourself, and then took hold of the clothing assortment you’d picked, walking back to the boys’ room faster than you could process your feelings. You had to make sure the other students weren’t around as you crossed the common room, without a wand, there was no disillusionment charm, and without that, you could easily be spotted. 

You walked inside the boys’ room as fast as you could, and you heard the water running, you assumed Remus was still inside, so you knocked lightly on the door. 

“Come in,” Remus said softly. “You okay?” he asked the minute he saw your face.

“Totally,” you lied. However, could you be okay? “I got the clothes,” you added as you moved the heap up just a bit to call attention to it. Remus looked at you as he dipped his hand in the water, it was bubbly and it smelled really nice. 

“I added some pain reliever potions Pomfrey’s given me,” he said. You gave him a look. Last time you’d taken his medicine, things had been problematic. “I checked a book, it says they’re safe. And I didn’t use that much either.” 

“You know, I’m not really in pain,” you said, not physical, at least. 

“Yeah bet,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. You reached towards the tub and dug your hand in as well, pulling it out almost an instant later.

“Shit, it’s too hot.” 

“It’s just warm,” Remus argued. 

You shook your head in response. It was hot enough to be uncomfortable. You pulled his hand out of the water and took it in yours, “Have you already fried your heat receptors?” 

Remus narrowed his eyes at you and pulled his hand away from your grasp “Haha, very funny” -he stood- “Hurry up, I’m hungry too.” 

He was about to leave the bathroom when you stood up as well, “Wait, may I borrow your wand?” 

Remus handed it over without questioning and then exited the room. You turned back at the tub, it was scalding. 

“Relashio gelida,” you said, a stream of freezing cold water left Remus’ wand. After a couple of minutes, you stopped the stream and checked the water again. It was still warm but not scalding anymore. You stripped and got in. The smell and the potions relaxing you in an instant. You didn’t want to take too long, so you busied yourself rubbing off some of the dirt and cleaning the dried patches of bIood. You sank completely under the water, blinking as you looked up at the stone ceiling, a little blurry due to the bubbly water. I didn’t hurt your eyes though, whatever potions Remus had used, prevented the soap from actually sinking into them. 

Not that you would have minded the little sting, all you wanted was a little moment of quiet under the water. She had always been a calming force for you. You remembered once reading that mermaids couldn’t cry, since they were already inside the water. You liked the idea of being able to cry without people noticing. You stayed there until your lungs cried for air and you resurfaced enough to let your face out of the water, you took a deep breath and sighed, closing your eyes and figuring it was about time for you to finish up.

You changed quickly and found Remus sitting outside, a book in his hands. You were still drying your hair as you stepped into his room. Remus thought you looked adorable as you brushed the towel over your head. The crisp white shirt you’d chosen made you look angelic in his eyes. 

“Let’s get some food,” you said as you left your hair alone and brushed it with your fingers. You’d let it air dry as you ate. The castle was warm enough to not have to worry about drying it. 

Remus nodded and the two of you walked down to the Great Hall. It was almost empty, there were a few students cuddled up at some tables. Like 5 Slytherins sitting with Ravenclaws, and then there were 3 younger Hufflepuffs at their own table. 

“I guess they chose not to go to Hogsmeade,” you said as you sat down.

“Some of them didn’t get permission from their parents,” Remus explained. “Enid and Niall for example,” he said pointing at the Hufflepuffs, “they are half-bIoods, their parents forbade them from going because of all the incidents they’ve read in the papers, they were scared.” 

“And they should be,” you said, thinking back to the pile of dеad bodies back in Rosier Manor.  The feast wasn’t as big as it was normally, but a decent assortment of food appeared right in front of you as you sat. There were desserts, and fruits and pasta and even some pies, but most importantly for you at that moment, there was meat. 

You grabbed onto a few sausages bacon and a piece of steak and started munching on it the instant they appeared. Remus helpfully filled up a cup of your favourite juice for you and passed it over, before serving himself one. 

He, despite claiming he was hungry earlier, took his time preparing himself a sandwich before he placed anything in his mouth. You felt like you were devouring your food in comparison to the much calmer demeanour he kept as he munched on his sandwich and ate some chips. 

“I’m thinking about writing my parents,” he said after taking a sip from his juice. You turned to him and nodded. “But I’m not sure if… I mean would you rather stay here or do you wanna come with us?” 

“You mean come to your house?”

Remus shrugged in response “I mean, the change of scenery could help clear your mind… and we could visit James and Sirius at some point too…” He seemed slightly hesitant as he spoke. 

“Are you sure your parents would want me at their house, though?” 

He frowned, “why wouldn’t they?” 

“I mean… Pomfrey’d heard about the dinner, I pretty much openly opposed Voldemort, there’s probably a huge target for my head, that’s why I came straight to Hogwarts.” 

“Oh, they won’t care,” Remus said. “We can ask Dumbledore if he thinks it’s safe if you want. If not we can just stay here until the break is over–“

“–I can stay here,” you interrupted. “Remus, your mum must miss you a lot. She hasn’t seen you in months, you’re not going to stay just because of me.”

“Mum has Dad, she won’t be alone if I don’t go,” he said simply. “If you stay, I’ll stay.” 

“Talk to them first,” you insisted. “When were you supposed to leave?” 

“Tonight,” he admitted. “I’m meant to see Dumbledore after dinner, he’ll let me use his office’s floo network.”

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but the idea of spending tonight alone was unnerving. Of course, you couldn’t keep clinging onto Remus like a leech, no matter how comforting he might be. 

“I’m going to the owlery,” he said as he stood up, “I’ll write them, we’ll have an answer before then.” 

“I should speak to Dumbledore,” you said as you too stood up, you turned towards the teacher’s table, “you think he’ll be at his office?”

He shrugged, “I’ll come with, it’s on my way anyway.”

You nodded, secretly thankful that he’d offered to walk you there, since you weren’t sure how to get to Dumbledore’s office. Yes, you had been at the school and you knew your way around secret passageways and to and from classrooms as much as anyone, but you hadn’t been to his office since the very start of the year, you didn’t even remember ever seeing it again. 

Once the two of you were in front of the statue, Remus waited for you to ring the bell and for the statue to roll around revealing the set of stairs before nodding at you and continuing on his way. It was strangely reminiscent of that time you’d met him, the sexy pirate from the romance novels, you remembered. You had been through so much with him, that the initial meeting seemed to you like it had been years ago, instead of months. 

The statue behind you clicked into position and you took a deep breath and walked upstairs, ready to talk to Dumbledore, even if you weren’t eager to relive the night’s events.

“I was expecting you to come,” he said calmly, “please sit,” he added as he gestured towards his chair. You swallowed and did as told. “How are you?” 

“Surprisingly, still alive,” you responded. 

There was a faint smile on his face, almost imperceptible, but you had noticed the way the corner of his mouth curled, even if just for a second. “I wouldn’t say surprising,” he said, “I’ve been informed you’re a very capable witch.” 

You held back the amused scoff that threatened to leave your mouth by clenching your jaw before you decided to speak again, changing the drive of the conversation. “How much do you know?” He curled an eyebrow. “Of last night, I mean.” 

“There was a fire at the Christmas Party, people diеd, your mother, among them.” 

“It was a Deatheater Party,” you said coldly, “Voldemort was there, they called him Tom.” 

He nodded as if he was aware of that. “They were torturing people, you intervened to stop Mrs. Lestrange from using an unforgivable on Nina Blythe. Her mother had already passed, unfortunately. Nobody’s seen her since the disaster.” 

You struggled to say the next words, “She didn’t make it.” 

The man nodded, somberly, “I assumed as much when you arrived with Madam Pomfrey and she didn’t. You wouldn’t have left her behind.” 

He was right, you didn’t even want to leave her behind when she had passed. “Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier helped me escape.” 

“The same Slytherins that–” 

“–Yes,” you cut him off, you didn’t like being rude to your elders, but you didn’t want to hear from that moon either. The fact that the two boys had helped you still being hard to process. The same hands that had left you bruised one night had grabbed onto you to get you out of there alive, it didn’t make sense. “There were a lot of people there. I don’t know all of their names, but I tried to gather as many as I could. I’m sorry if I can no longer be of use.”

Dumbledore frowned, “No longer be of use?” 

“I can’t spy for you anymore.” 

“Ahhh,” he said, seeming to understand. “Nightshade didn’t ask to train you just because she thought you’d be a useful spy. Neither did I. We wanted you to join the Order of the Phoenix.” 

“The what?” 

Dumbledore explained to you what the Order was, that while your family connections had been initially a big reason for your recruitment, it had been your performance in classes, and the friendships you had formed that really got Nightshade to choose you. You had shown no bIood-based bias, you had openly defied pure-bIoods. 

“We think you’d be an incredible addition to our ranks,” he added. 

You gulped as you stared at his desk, trying to process everything he’d told you, “You… you want me to fight in the war,” you said, as if putting it into words made it any more real than it already was. 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as he stared at you and nodded, “Perhaps then you’ll be able to continue protecting those you love.” 

“But– there are much more experienced wizards, there– I almost diеd last night.” 

“Yes, and you were willing to risk your life to protect someone you love,” he said. “That makes you better for the task of fighting a war than most, no matter how qualified they might be.” 

You swallowed again, be it bravery or recklessness the reason that you had done what you did, you were now being offered…

“A chance to stop it from happening again,” he finished. 

You looked at him with a frown, you were sure your occlumency was up, and you instantly tested your mind shields. They were still up, Dumbledore gave you a long look, and you realised he hadn’t been reading your mind, but rather your reactions and your body language. The way your jaw clenched and your body tensed when he said certain things. You breathed, relaxing your body as much as you could before speaking again, “Okay,” you said simply. 

Dumbledore nodded, and you were about to stand, halfway up your chair before you sat down again and leaned a little closer, “I came here because it was the only safe place I could think of that Barty could help me apparate to.” 

“It was very wise,” he noted. 

“But… Remus will leave tonight. He asked his parents if I could come with them, but I won’t if my being with them puts them at risk.” 

“Do you want to go?” He asked calmly. 

You were taken aback by his question. Of course you did, you didn’t want to be left alone. “Not if it risks anyone’s life,” you repeated. 

He nodded and gave you a long look, “From what I gather, the deatheaters are not looking for you at the present moment. They think you’re too weak, and that you’ll return home by yourself. Your father will probably be there, waiting for you.” He took a deep breath and then continued, “Is there a way in which he can track you? A magic item or something he’s given you?” 

“No,” you responded. You had many magic items, but none by which he could track you. Not even the ring your mother had given you. 

“Then it should be safe for you to go, as long as you don’t call too much attention to yourself. The Lupins live in a cottage near the sea in Wales at the moment. Small muggle town, no wizards live there to my knowledge.” 

You nodded as he gave you all the information, “So, I wouldn’t put them in danger by going?” 

“You would not,” he reassured. 

“Okay, thank you,” you said as you stood up, something akin to a smile drawing itself on your lips.

Dumbledore merely nodded as he saw you walk towards his door and descend down the stairs, a mischievous look on his face, as if he was both amazed by and compassionate of you. 

You walked down and found Remus sitting on a nearby bench, writing some things down in a small notebook. His face lit up when he spotted you, “How did it go?” he asked. 

“He knew a lot of it already, I gave him the details and wrote a list of all the names I remembered. 

The two of you walked towards the common room by each other and sat near the fire. Remus had extended his legs over the table and you let your head fall over his lap, closing your eyes when he turned on the radio and played one of the tapes you had sent them. “You still want me to read?” he asked. 

You shrugged in response. “I’ve got this book,” he told you, pulling it out of his back, “or we could do one of yours?” 

“Your book,” you said, you hadn’t even opened your eyes.

“You really want me to read advanced arithmancy?” he asked. You frowned and opened your eyes, he gave you an amused look as you took the book from his hand to revise the title. 

“Your nose will grow,” you said as you read the title. It was not Advanced Arithmancy. 

“You weren’t even looking,” he said simply. “The book’s fine?” 

You nodded, and he started reading. Remus was an incredibly good reader, and you lost yourself on the story as he read, his hand had absentmindedly found your hair and he was carefully brushing his fingers over your scalp, like he often saw you do to comfort Sirius, you had done it to him a couple of times too, and he loved every minute of it. 

You were both so immersed in the story that neither of you realised there was an owl knocking on a window until a boy from 2nd year walked down the stairs and asked if anyone was expecting mail. 

You turned to look at Remus and he moved the book away to be able to see your face, you lifted yourself up while he stood and walked towards the window, opened it and retrieved a small letter from an owl’s beak. 

“Thank you,” you said to the boy with a polite smile. 

“You’re welcome,” he said before giving you a court nod and leaving, waving a polite goodbye. 

“They said you can come,” Remus said as he sat down next to you again, showing you the letter. You took a deep breath and smiled. You wouldn’t have to spend the night alone. “Want me to help you pack?” 

You nodded with a smile and the two of you walked to your room. Remus had been there before, back at the Halloween party, a soft smile played on his lips as he looked back at the memory. 

Meanwhile, you took the small bag from the party that you had somehow managed to keep slung across your shoulder during the entire ordeal and started dumping everything onto your bed. Remus looked at you surprised since he had no idea you had also charmed your bag to keep so many things inside. 

“Why would you take so many things to the party,” he asked as he pulled one of the three books inside the bag and started to inspect it. 

“I was originally planning to sit in a corner and read something,” you admitted, “was not expecting a bigotry celebration.” 

“I loved this, by the way,” you said as you pulled out the book of poems he’d made you and placed it on the desk carefully. 

“You took it as well?” 

You shrugged, “I wanted to read it, I haven’t gotten through all the pages,” you said honestly. Then you leaned down and picked out a small suitcase from under your bed. 

Remus smiled as he looked at you, you had been so talkative at Slughorn’s party, perfectly entertaining both adult guests and other kids your age, he could barely imagine you sitting in a corner with a book in your hand, you clearly hadn’t been eager to attend said party in the first place. 

“Do your parents celebrate an elegant New Year?” You asked as you pulled a few simpler clothes from your trunk, some jeans, a couple of jumpers, some thermal clothes and a couple of graphic tees. 

“No wonder I can’t find my jumpers,” he said as he grabbed three of the jumpers you had pulled out. 

“Sorry,” you said with a wince and a small shrug, they were all his. “So, elegant?” 

“Not really?” he said with a shrug. “I mean Mum wears something nice, but it’s not like elegant wizard stuff either.” 

“You think this would work?” You asked as you pulled out a simple blue dress. It had sleeves that would reach just past your elbows and a square neckline. 

Remus nodded with a shrug, “Just wear something comfortable,” he said as he sat on the bed and helped bend some of the clothes you’d picked out. 

“Oh, Rem, don’t worry about that, it’s–” 

“Shhh,” he interrupted, “just focus on finding the stuff, we should hurry.” 

You gave him a look but nodded, picking out some more stuff quickly and starting to bend it all. When you opened your suitcase he realised it had also been charmed, two rows of drawers pulled out and moved to the side, enough for you to place all you had picked and at least another 3 times that. Of course, you wouldn’t need that many clothes, so it didn’t matter if some parts of it stayed empty. 

“You’re taking pyjamas?” he asked. 

You hadn’t even thought about it, and quickly dug through your trunk to pull some shorts, fluffy socks, long sleeve shirts, and also some thick pants, in case it got too cold. You also walked towards the bathroom and got a toothbrush and a small set of toiletries. When you walked back, Remus was already placing all of your sleep clothes in one of the drawers. 

“Thanks,” you said with an awkward smile and pulled a brush from the vanity. 

Remus just shrugged in response, “No problem, luv.”

You heard a small tap on the window and walked towards it, a large black owl was leaning against the window seal. He carried a small square package in its claw, Narrow and long, wrapped in black fabric and with a letter tucked in the side. The owl waited for you to open, left the package with a small nod and flew away. 

Remus and you exchanged looks before you picked it up and walked over to the bed, sitting next to him. You pulled the green ribbon and found a small letter on top, it was more of a note than a letter, though. 

We attempted to retrieve your wand, unfortunately, and as you’ll see, we were late, Bella had already broken it in two. You’ll have to get a new one. Barty mentioned that you asked for the one that belonged to the girl. We had to dig through, but we found it. Hope it serves you for whatever purpose it is that you need it. 

-E

“They got it back,” you whispered as you took the box and pulled it open. Your wand, like Evan said, was there in two pieces, completely broken. You pulled out the pieces with a sigh, a sad look as you stared at them. 

“You’ve had it all your life?” 

“Yeah,” you answered, “I got it when I was 9 so I could study ahead.” Remus gave you an incredulous look, and you shrugged. “They wanted me to perform well in my first year. They wouldn’t let me use it all the time, but Mum taught me all the basic spells, and I pinched a book of duels from my father. I accidentally charred a tree before they realised.” 

Remus scoffed with a smile on his face. He shouldn’t have been surprised, you had always been a bit of a troublemaker, but imagining a little Vixen with a wand burning a tree down was certainly amusing. Either way, there was still another wand in the box. It was narrow and long, about as long as James’, perhaps a little longer, it was carved like Sirius’ but the insides had a tinge of blue, and seemed to shine as it caught the light. “Is that–”

“Nina’s wand,” you finished, swallowing thickly as you too looked inside the box. “They found it,” you added with a sad smile. 

“What will you do with it?” he asked. 

You shook your head, “I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I just knew I didn’t want it to be lost forever.” 

“Do you know what type of wand it is?” he asked. 

You shook your head in response, “Nina almost always kept her in her pocket, she tended to avoid the subject… I never asked her why.” That last part was a little harder to say, mostly because of the thought that came to your head after it, you’d never be able to ask why.

“Maybe we can give it back to a family member?” 

“Her mum was there too,” you responded. “Perhaps Sybil would know,” you added with a shrug.

“If–” Remus hesitated, “If I were her, I’d want you to keep it.” 

You gave him a look, and picked the wand up, shaking your head, “I doubt it.” 

“No, I’m sure,” Remus insisted. “She pushed you out of the way of a spell, she would want you to be protected. If her wand could protect you the same way you protected her–”

“Tried,” you corrected. “I tried to protect her.” 

Remus placed his arm over your shoulders and brought you closer to him, “Sometimes we do all that’s within our power and we still lose. It doesn’t make us any less worthy.” 

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “If I take it” –you took in a breath– “If I take it then I can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen.” Your eyes were watering again. “I’d have to face it, every time I do magic, I’ll have to–”

“Hey,” Remus said softly, as he rubbed his hand on your shoulder. “Breathe, luv. Let’s leave it here for now. You can borrow my wand whenever you need magic and we’ll go to Diagon sometime on the break so you can get a wand. How does that sound?” 

You blinked the tears away, quickly cleaning one that had slipped and nodded. “I’ll bring it, just in case,” you said, and gently placed the one on the drawer near the bottom. You didn’t want to see it when you looked for clothes. 

Remus didn’t think it was healthy to ignore your feelings, he knew what you were doing to yourself wasn’t any better than actually processing your loss, but he had been trying to ignore his feelings for you and Sirius the last few months, and he wasn’t hypocritical enough tell you how you should process things when he himself could barely do it. 

Eventually, you took a deep breath and pressed a button on the side of the suitcase. The drawers went back inside and the suitcase closed shut. You took some of the books and placed them inside the smaller bag you had taken to the party. “We’ve got books at home too,” Remus teased with a smile and you elbowed him gently. 

“You said after dinner, right?” He nodded, and you turned to the clock, “We should probably go see Dumbledore then… Perhaps we can get some snacks from the kitchen on our way.” 

Remus shook his head, “Mum will have dinner for us,” Remus said, "she used to be a chef, she’s always loved cooking.” 

“I had no idea,” you said as you grabbed the suitcase and the bag, you left them in the common room and walked with Remus to get his own suitcase and backpack and then the two of you walked towards Dumbledore’s office. 

“I see you’ve decided to go,” Dumbledore said as he saw you with the suitcase in hand. 

“Remus can be very persuasive,” you replied. 

He nodded and moved out of the way to let you walk towards his chimney. 

Dumbledore handed over a small piece of paper to you, in neat gold, you read: Lupin’s cottage, Wales. 

“Thank you,” you said as you walked over to the chimney.

“Mr. Lupin, perhaps you should go first,” Dumbledore suggested. 

Remus nodded in agreement and walked inside, taking some powder from the bag and then throwing it against the floor, “Lupin’s cottage, Wales,” he said, articulating every word carefully. 

“Ready?” Dumbledore asked as he offered the bag for you to take some of the green powder. You nodded and dug your hand into the bag, taking a good deal of powder and holding your fist closed tight. “Take care,” he said simply. 

“Thank you, Professor,” you said as you walked inside the chimney. “Happy New Year,” you added right before taking a deep breath and saying “Lupin’s cottage, Wales.” 

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A/N: I little bit of fluff so we can start processing all that's been going on in GC lately. I feel like it's much needed.

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[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 6

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, sexually charged conversations, teasing/banter. Smut, sex toys, minor bondage, spanking. A guest star of Anthony DiNozzo! I didn't really want to bring in a whole THIRD fandom into this but it ended up working out really nicely and I can play around with it in future chapters too! It feels like it's been ages since I've updated this so clearly the last week was a long one lol. Remember how I said I wanted to be a chapter ahead from now on with my series? Yeah that quickly did not happen. LOL. I'm gonna try to keep up with it, and I promise y'all won't wait longer than a week between chapters, I just need to hunker down and write!

Working for Heather meant that you worked insane hours that could change at the drop of a hat, but it also meant that you could essentially make your own schedule whenever you wanted. You could do most of your job from home or a hotel, as long as you had Wi-Fi you were in the clear, you spent a lot of your time gallivanting around D.C to finish whatever tasks you needed to. Shuffling your schedule around constantly meant that you were more than given the liberty to a Thursday afternoon off and that is exactly why you were meandering down Wisconsin Avenue with Tony in tow. Some of your friends questioned why you always went shopping with him, but the truth was he knew style, understood expensive taste, always told the truth if something looked bad and the entire experience was more efficient. If you went out with your girlfriends on a shopping spree you got dragged into twelve stores you needed nothing from and had to wait while they tried on countless amounts of outfits. With Tony the most that would happen would you’d have some extra browsing time at L. Priori because he got distracted by the watches.

“You got some big White House party coming up or something?” He asked, taking a sip of the coffee you’d bought him earlier.

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulder as you picked up the small bag, “no.”

“We’ve done jewels, we’ve done shoes,” he pushed the door open for you, holding it while you crossed through the entry way and back out onto the street, “you dropped off three dresses for alterations and looked through the catalogue of what’s coming in…”

“I just want to revamp my closet a little bit, make sure I’m prepared for summer, you know how many extra garden parties I end up at.”

“And your boss is okay with that amount of cleavage?” He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “I think you’re bullshitting me.”

“I got a little carried away doing spring cleaning and tossed half my closet.” You bluffed, “I work so much I forgot I actually wore the other shit and now need to replace it.” Veering off to the side your hand tugged open the door to Jaryam and Tony followed you inside.

“When’s your next date?” He asked with a grin.

“I never said anything about a date.”

“Then why did you just drag me into a lingerie store?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I didn’t drag you anywhere, you love this shit. I just want some new pieces; you’ve got the right eye for colour and the masculine fetishistic imagination to tell me which ones I’ll look the best in.”

He chuckled darkly, not bothering to disagree with you as you made your way further into the shop, he was a pace behind you, fiddling with a price tag when he scoffed and you turned back to him with a raised brow, “I’ve heard you complain about the prices in Victoria’s Secret and that’s got nothing on this, a thong for a hundred and fifty dollars?”

“It’s… about the quality.” You shrugged, “thirty dollars for a scrap of fabric that falls apart in a month made in a sweatshop isn’t a good investment.” You picked up the pair that he was looking at, reading through the tag, “something hand stitched made with quality fabric that’s going to last? Worth it.”

“Hmm.” He replied, surveying you for a minute as you put the thong back on the rack, “you know, I noticed when you picked up the coffee that you used a black card…”

“You’re really working those sleuthing skills today, aren’t ya?” You teased back with a grin, moving onto a wall of lace bras.

“It’s not exactly a difficult mystery.” He smirked, following you, “fancy shoes, nice jewels, new clothes, expensive lingerie,” you turned back to face him, an unimpressed look on your face and he practically caged you into the wall, “who’s your daddy?”

“Ew, Tony, fuck off.” You groaned, shoving at his chest as he laughed, “coffee and meals can be turned into a write off. I used Heather’s card.”

“Bah! Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll just run your financials when I get back to the office.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “they call you a very Special Agent DiNozzo?”

“Why yes, yes they do.” He smiled, getting a little smug about it and you shook your head at him.

“Then explain to me how running my financials would let you in on whose card I’m using.” You asked, watching as he opened his mouth to give you some witty response but he couldn’t find one, gaping for a minute before he let out a defeated huff and you tugged him in the other direction, “now c’mon, I know you have a good eye for lingerie.”

“Now that, I will not deny.” He replied with a smile and you did roll your eyes as he followed you deeper into the shop.

You combed through practically every shelf in the place, trying to figure out what kind of styles you were going to settle on before Tony started to share his opinions. He reminded you how good blue looked on you when you picked up a soft pink set and suggested the lace florals over lace butterflies. You were narrowing it down between a handful of choices and he was quick to intervene when he noticed you were eliminating all the variation.

“Wait,” he cut in, swiping the one you were trying to put back on the shelf, “keep that one. Get rid of this one.” He plucked the peach set from your collection, tossing it into the return pile.

“It’s cute!” You protested.

“Exactly. Everything you’re keeping is ‘cute’, you’re playing it too safe and I know that’s not you. The lilac one is the nicest, little hint of lace for a bonus, so get it.” He started flicking through the rack you had your favourites on, “keep the teal one for the crystals, plus it matches that pair of heels you bought. The rest of this batch can go but add these to your buying list.” He picked up a lacy black and red set that was mostly see through and included a garter belt, handing it off to you, and a gorgeous deep green set. “That’ll look great with your skin,” his brow furrowed for a second as he examined it, “wait it’s not your size, you’re what?” His eyes were suddenly on you and you groaned,

“Stop staring at my tits.” You stated dryly as he turned around, grabbing another one of the green set from the shelf.

“Thirty four C, right?”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or grossed out that you were able to figure that out.”

“They don’t call me Very Special Agent DiNozzo for nothing.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to go try these on.” You scooped up the remaining sets, “not for your viewing pleasure! Occupy yourself.”

You weren’t surprised in the least when all of Tony’s recommendations were right and you were happy to be leaving with a variety of options. Returning from the dressing room you found him near the till looking through accessories and he shot you a cocky grin as you placed all of his choices down on the counter. You shuffled the shopping bags in your hand over to the other one,

“Can you hold this?” You asked, handing him your purse as you pulled Emily’s card from within it, passing it off to the cashier. Once the purchase was completed and the cashier was wrapping up the lingerie, she placed the card down on the counter and out of the corner of your eye you saw Tony making a move for it, managing to swipe it up before he could get to it.

“Hey!” You swatted the back of his head and he grimaced.

“Ow. That was worse than Gibbs.” He muttered.

“You fuck around and you’ll find out.” You returned but he was too busy on his phone to really pay attention.

You took your purse back from him, tossing it over your shoulder as you thanked the clerk and added the bag of lingerie to the others with your shopping and the two of you made your way back onto the street. You jumped when Tony’s fingers prodded at your side, digging into your ribs.

“C’mon… let me know something, please.” He batted his eyes at you, “I just helped you pick lingerie; I deserve to know something. Doctor? Artist? App developer? Congressman?”

“Nope, nope, nope and hard nope.” You replied with a huff and he groaned so you finally turned back to him, stalling in your steps, “what I will tell you, is that she most definitely outranks NCIS, so you can officially drop it.”

“Ohoho… a new lady friend…” It was his turn to slow in his tracks, eyes lingering in the window of the next shop, “you need any special accessories for that?”

“Tony you’re insane if you think I’m taking you into a sex toy store.”

“Meh, doesn’t really matter since you’ve already covered that step.” He grinned and your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Swiped your phone and went through your emails.” With a laugh he tossed the device back to you as you let out a gasp, “peach flavoured lube, nice. Nipple clamps? Kinky, didn’t realize you were into that kinda pain.” That earned him a hard punch on the arm, “but that double sided dildo with vibration? Now that sounds like a real party.”

“Anothony DiNozzo!” You scolded and he let out a small whine of a scoff, gesturing toward the sex store.

“I’m the perfect person to give sex toy recommendations, c’mon.” He protested and you sighed.

“Tony. You are a straight man. What could you possibly known about sex toys for me to use with another woman?”

“One of those wand things, Hibachi?”

“That’s Japanese barbecue, but nice try.”

“The wands!”

“You’re going for Hitachi.”

“Close enough!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “the big one’s better but I think they sell smaller ones too, more portable.” He waggled his eyebrows at you and you sighed.

“Think? Tony, pull your head outta your ass. Any self respecting person with a clit already owns one of those.”

“Really?” He smirked at you and you did your best not to groan.

“I’ve got three, a mini pink, a mini green and the big one, which yes, is far superior. Can we go now?”

“Fine.” He groaned, feigning annoyance, “you dragging me to a nail appointment next?”

“No, I was gonna buy you a late lunch.”

“You were? Or is your mommy dearest gonna buy lunch.” He exaggerated the word, nearly moaning as he said it and you immediately grimaced.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“Yup, that one felt wrong coming out. My bad, that’s on me.”

**

Emily turned down dessert service, asking for the cheque instead as she gave the server a soft smile, picking up her cocktail once again as she turned back to you. In turn, you finished your drink, placing the glass down on the table as you stood, your hand coming to squeeze at Emily’s thigh softly as your lips brushed against her cheek.

“Give me a five minute head start, I’ve got a surprise for you.” You scooped up your phone, shooting Emily a wink as you sauntered away from the table in the direction of the elevator.

Her eyes followed you through the entrance of the lounge, narrowing in on your ass as you pushed the elevator button and the sparks began to fly through her body. It hadn’t been a particularly long week, but it was very safe to say that you had been on her mind more often than not. Images of your naked body strewn across the bed floating into her brain, making her cheeks flush while she was torturously bored with paperwork. A too long tedious conference call lead to her zoning out, daydreaming all the things she wanted to do to you, the noises you made echoing through her mind. It was almost a given that night that she had a rather self soothing shower when she got home, pulling her laptop out when she finally crawled into bed to take a look at what fun things she could buy to occupy your time with in the future weekends.

Emily settled the bill, slowly draining the rest of her cocktail until she was certain she’d given you enough time to do whatever it was you had planned before she finally left the restaurant. The key card beeped against the lock and she stepped inside the suite, letting the door swing shut behind her before she made sure it was locked. She stepped out of her heels, dropping her purse on the side table in the entry way before rounding the bed into the suite, catching a glimpse of you laid out on the bed and her lips twitched up into a grin.

“Well that certainly is a welcome sight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sitting up and shifting onto your knees, “you see something you like?”

“I see plenty I like.” She walked up to the foot of the bed as you crawled on your knees to greet her, your hands settling on her hips as one of hers curled around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers for a kiss.

Her tongue easily slipped into your mouth when you let out a satisfied groan, both of you relaxing into the kiss, lips dancing with grace against each other. Her hand slipped into your hair, pulling out the pins to let it fall loose around your shoulders, pulling at it lightly. When her teeth scraped against your lip you couldn’t help but moan, your hands drifting up her body as you slowly began to unbutton her shirt. She broke the kiss to help you untuck the fabric from her pants, letting it drop to the floor behind her before her fingers began to trace the lines of the teal lingerie set, floating over the gems decorating your chest.

“You like the crystals?” You asked, small grin on your lips and she nodded.

“They’re gorgeous.”

“They’re Swarovski.” You replied with a near smirk and she let out a huff of a laugh.

“You really went all in, hey?”

“Just wanted to make sure I looked nice and pretty for you.” You shrugged coyly and she chuckled, giving you a once over.

“Well you do.” She leant down, kissing you gently before her hands nudged at your shoulders, “you’re not the only one who brought something fun, lie back princess.”

“I noticed.” You replied, a gleam in your eye as you dropped into the pillows, an arm extending to the nightstand where you picked up a silk tie, “multifaceted, curious as to what your intentions are.”

“First…” Emily rounded the side of the bed, “I want to see what’s under that gorgeous bra.” She nodded at you and you sat up, hands flying behind you to unclip it, gently tossing it to the side, “good girl.” She plucked the fabric from your hands, picking up a longer one from the nightstand before kneeling on the bed. “Give me your hands.” She instructed and you held your hands out for her, wrists gently pressed together as she began to wind the fabric around them, “is this okay?”

“Absolutely.” You replied, looking up at her with darkening eyes as she tightened the silk.

“Do you have a word?”

“I’m fond of peach.”

“Perfect.” With a wicked grin she placed a gentle kiss on your wrist before guiding you to lie back with your arms over your head and she looped the shorter piece through your bonds, securing the other end to the golden bar of the headboard. “No surprises there.” She purred as she slid off the bed, letting out a satisfied hum as her eyes dragged over your body.

“Hm?” You raised a brow, watching as she moved back to a spare chair.

“Just how pretty you look tied up like that.” Emily tossed a grin over her shoulder, “but you are going to need to roll over for the second part of your treat.”

You nearly let out a whine when her hands came to her belt buckle, eager to be able to see both what was coming next and what she had under her clothes. Instead of risking it you decided to behave, rolling onto your stomach, your arms stretching over your head as you twisted it to the side, just barely able to see Emily under your arm. She had busied herself with getting rid of her clothing, a neat pile forming on the small bench next to her bag as she pulled out the strap, swiftly stepping into it and securing it around her hips. Your mouth was practically watering already and then she reached into her bag again, pulling out a crop with a cute little heart on the end and you had to hold back a moan.

Emily could see the way your body tensed, how your hips ground down into the bed as she reapproached it and a dark chuckle escaped her lips. Kneeling on the bed behind you her hand grasped your ankle, spreading your legs further apart and you did your best to arch your back, presenting yourself to her.

“Such obedience.” She murmured, letting the crop lightly trace up your inseam as you let out an airy breath.

Emily slowly trailed the crop up and down your legs, just the slightest hint of touch that she knew you were absolutely begging for in your head. She could see the way your body twitched whenever it got close to the heat between your legs and a wicked grin took over her lips. The crop finally came up over the swell of your ass, softly circling and tracing patterns on your skin and you finally let out a whine. Since this was the first time you’d actually made a louder noise, Emily figured this was the time to both give in and start to really tantalize you now. She raised the crop, swatting it down onto your ass and you let out a low moan.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You eagerly nodded into the pillows and the crop trailed across to the other cheek, repeating the circles before coming down harder on that side and your breath caught in your throat.

“Ohh…” Your fingers interlaced, squeezing tightly, “harder, please.”

“My little princess likes it rough.” Emily husked from behind you, “somehow I’m not that surprised.”

The crop came down on the same spot harder than the first before she flicked it over your other cheek, swatting just as hard, watching the way your body reacted, jolting at the touch before grinding your cunt down onto the bed. She brought the head of the crop between your legs, pushing the fabric of your panties into your pussy, rubbing the leather up and down your folds as you moaned, arching into the touch.

“Fuuckk…”

Emily chuckled darkly, bringing the crop up before hitting your ass with more force, smirking at the louder moans leaving your lips, the way you were pulling against your bonds, wishing your hands were free. The sounds of the spanks echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as your moans grew louder and longer, every time the crop was brought down onto your body it grew from a tingle to a pleasurable burn. Emily continued to trail the leather across your skin, occasionally her hand gently rubbing across the spot to sooth the burn, little praises and coos leaving her lips. The tingles each time she spanked you began to build, growing together with each hit of the crop until there was a fire building right under your skin, whimpers and whines leaving your lips as you buried your face into the pillows. Every swat of the crop made your entire body shiver and you were nearly about to start begging for more when she moved it back between your legs.

“You really like this, hmm?” She asked, pressing it against your cunt again, “making such a big wet spot on these nice panties.” She rubbed it harder against you, watching the way your wetness continued to soak the fabric, “you know, I’d take them off and stuff them in your mouth if you didn’t make such pretty noises…”

You groaned softly, your hips rocking back toward the touch, a little whimper leaving your throat when the crop nearly rubbed against your clit. Emily hummed softly, lifting the crop up before bringing it back down, this time onto your pussy and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped you.

“Oh fuucck…” Your head buried deeper into the pillows, your eyes scrunching shut as you felt your pussy fluttering around nothing, your clit nearly pulsing already, juices smearing across your underwear.

Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, flipping you onto your back watching as your legs instinctively fell open for her to see the growing wet spot on your panties. She brought the crop back to your cunt, rubbing it harder against you as you started to whine, resulting in another swat that brought a gasp from your lips.

“You like this even more, don’t you princess?” She asked with a grin and you nodded, “you want your pussy spanked too?” Spank. “Think you can come from just this?” Spank.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “more, please.”

“Always such nice manners.” She praised, her fingers slipping into the waistband of your thong, tugging the fabric down your legs and tossing it behind her. Her hands soothed up your legs, spreading them even further apart from each other as her thumbs dared to brush the edges of your cunt. “Such a pretty pussy. God you’re just fucking drenched already.”

Emily picked the crop back up, rubbing it through your slick folds, pressing harder as she brought it to your clit.

“Please.” You whimpered and she chuckled softly.

The first hit was on the gentle side, her eyes tracing up your naked body, watching your face for any sign of discomfort but all she found was a look of sheer pleasure. Your eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as breathy moans escaped them, it was all she needed to bring the crop down even harder the next time.

“Fuck.” Your body twitched off the bed, cunt pulsing as more juices dribbled out of it.

“That’s it princess.” Spank. “You’re doing so good for me.” Spank.

“Oh god…” Your hands clutched at the silk ties as your body shivered, pleasure building higher and higher with each time the crop hit your cunt.

“I know you’re close.” Spank. “Just a few more.” Spank. “Pussy’s so wet.” Spank. “Let go for me.” Spank.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your back arching off the bed, pulling against the restraints as your orgasm shot through you, pussy pulsating around nothing as your juices dripped onto the bedspread.

“That’s it.” Emily cooed, the crop gently rubbing against your cunt, smearing your wetness all around it and your thighs. “So pretty when you come for me.”

“Please…” you whimpered, “need you.”

“You want more?” She asked, gently spanking your pussy again and you whined.

“No, please! Need your cock.” You were absolutely begging, pussy fluttering, feeling so entirely empty. Despite the powerful orgasm you needed to be filled, stretched around Emily to finally feel completely satisfied.

“So needy tonight.” Emily teased, dropping the crop to the side as she climbed over you, running the tip of the toy through your folds, “this what you want?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously, “please.”

“Alright.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, knowing you were absolutely drenched she sunk her cock fully into you until her hips met yours and you let out a very satisfied moan. She pulled back just enough to sneak her hand between your bodies, turning on the vibration on the base of the toy, just against her clit and a breathy sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her hips, pulling out until just the tip was left inside you and set a steady pace, fucking you thoroughly. Each thrust of her hips had your body twitching up off the bed, pulling against your restraints as you ached to touch her, pleasure shooting through your limbs.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “feels so good.”

Each thrust of her cock the head brushed right over your g-spot, pulling louder moans from you each time as your pussy began to clench down around her. You could feel your juices smearing across both of your bodies as she fucked deeper into you, picking up the pace as she knew you were getting close again.

“Are you going to come again for me angel?” She cooed, her hands gliding up your body to toy with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in time with her thrusts.

“S-s’close.” You moaned, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet hers with each thrust.

Your hands tugged against the silk ties again, gasping when Emily’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into her mouth for her tongue to flick patterns across it. The double, nearly triple sensation if you counted the vibrations hitting your clit each time your bodies met was nearly too much, your pussy making almost more noise than the ones coming from your mouth. All you could do was whimper and whine, your head too fuzzy to get actual words to come out, the coil inside you got tighter and tighter until Emily’s teeth sunk into your chest and it burst through you.

“Fuck!”

Your body trembled, the tingles shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes as Emily continued to fuck you. Her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a low swear, now focused on chasing her own release. She sunk fully into you, pressing the vibrating part of the toy directly against her clit and it gave you the opportunity to roll your hips against hers, grinding the base harder onto her. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as your eyes scrunched shut, another orgasm bursting through you from the sensation and Emily let out a soft cry.

“Oh god.” Her hand slipped between your bodies, switching the vibrations off before she sat up.

Emily panted slightly, attempting to catch her breath as she reached out, swiftly undoing the ties and your arms were finally free to drop to the bed. You let out a soft groan, flexing your hands before Emily caught them in hers, examining your wrists to make sure you hadn’t pulled too hard and hurt yourself. Once satisfied that you hadn’t she let them drop and shifted on her knees, slipping out of you and watching your juices dribble onto the bed.

“Mmm…” you sighed, your lips curving up into a grin.

“What?” She asked with a raised brow.

“That was hot.” You replied, “kinda wish you could come inside me though.”

“Well…” she leant over you, kissing you before nipping at your lower lip, “I’m sure that can be arranged for next time.”

_____________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sires-blog

[creative-heart]

"Love's Blossom"| Enzo Vogrincic

Chapter 1: "Nurturing Beginnings"

Lucia’s notes: Here goes the first chapter of my new Enzo x Reader Series. It’s a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it as a way to get you into this world.

Content Warning: Baby Fever, slight brief talk of sex. I don’t think I’m missing anymore, but if I am, please let me know.

Word Count: 1.3 k

It only took for Enzo’s cousin Juan to put his newborn baby boy in Y/N’s arms for the baby fever to ignite a new kind of fire in her gut, one that she had never felt before, and it burnt so bright she thought it might consume her. The Brunette was so taken by the little boy’s hand grabbing her pinky with his whole little fist that she didn’t realize Enzo was looking at the image in front of him as if it was the air he lacked to live; a new urge of making Y/N a mom growing in his heart.

The afternoon went by basically with them two gawking at the infant boy and as soon as they sat down in their car to head home Y/N looked over at her boyfriend “How crazy would it be if I said I want to have a baby?” she bit her lip a bit scared of the dark-haired man’s reaction to this revelation even though she didn’t quite expect the response she got back. Enzo snapped his head to look at her as soon as she said that the widest brightest smile spreading across his face, “I was thinking the same, for some reason seeing you with Luca made me think about how cute a mini us would be”.

And so they came up with a plan, Y/N went to see her doctor and explained the situation and she took the girl off her contraceptives starting her on some vitamins and folic acid as well, to help boost her reproductive system. For the next three months or so, it wouldn’t be successful according to the doctor, as Y/N’s body needed to get rid of all the hormones before any baby-making could happen, not that they couldn’t try anyway. 

Two months into this endeavor, they had agreed not to try testing before the three months had passed so they wouldn’t get too anxious about it, not that it was working for Y/N, the brunette was going insane with the wait. So when Juan and his wife asked the pair to look after little Luca for the night as they had a child-free wedding, Enzo and Y/N jumped at the opportunity to try to get as much hands-on experience with a baby as they could before they got their little one.

Leading up to the day they’d be taking baby Luca, Y/N walked in on Enzo reading a parenting blog and trying to understand what he needed to do with him, as she silently approached him from behind kissing his cheek while he sat on the couch she asked “What are you doing my love? reading up on baby care?” The older man looked at his girlfriend blushing a deep shade of red “It’s just that I want to make sure I know what to do with him tomorrow, like, what temperature do babies take their bottles? How will I know when he needs a diaper change? Like he’s my nephew, I need to do a good job, plus I know nothing about babies.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable he looked all worried.

When Saturday rolled around, Juan and his wife dropped Luca off at Y/N and Enzo’s place at around six pm with his diaper bag with all the essentials needed for the night. “Right, so in there are enough diapers to last him like a day, in case there are any emergencies, a couple of clothes changes, and his pjs, his pacifier, and all the bottles he’ll need until we’re back with Camila’s milk in them, you only need to warm them up, and they’re microwave safe” Y/N smiled holding the baby kissing his head “Don’t worry guys, we’ve got you covered, you go have fun, if there’s anything you must know about we’ll make sure to let you know”. As both Juan and Camila kissed their baby’s head and left the brunette turned around rocking the sleeping baby in her arms to look at Enzo “you alright there?” she smiled as he stood frozen holding the bag.

“Yeah..” He replied absentmindedly “It’s just I didn’t ask them how will we know if he’s too hot, or too cold? won’t he need another blanket? what if he doesn’t like the way we change his diaper?” Y/N laughed standing on her tiptoes to plant a loving smooch on the taller one’s lips “As adorable as I find the way you panic, you need to relax baby, you’ll see it’s more intuitive than you think, plus, I’ve changed diapers before, so we’re good” He nodded softly as Y/N went to lay the sleeping infant in the traveling cot they had set up in the guests room for the night turning the monitor on before walking back out. It always amazed Enzo how much of a natural his girlfriend was with kids, they seemed to just be naturally attracted to her like bees to honey were and he loved seeing how much she enjoyed playing with the little ones at all social gatherings they attended.

As the evening went on they found themselves taking turns to play with and hold the baby, Enzo took most of the feedings and Y/N took the diaper changes under the attentive gaze of her boyfriend who wanted to soak up all the knowledge he could on this. Once they had Luca in his pjs Y/N gently paced around their living room after dinner trying to make the baby go down for the night as the raven-haired man laid back on the couch watching her, his eyes never leaving her body as she kept going “come on bubba, I know you’re tired, go to sleep” she pleaded at the whiny, fussy baby as he was overtired.

When he finally gave in to sleep she sat down with him laying on her chest as she rested back against Enzo “Finally, he was so overstimulated he couldn’t even fall asleep” she whispered rubbing his back gently and watching him sleep. Enzo hummed softly as he just looked at her with loving and reflecting eyes “I wish I could be the little man right now” he whispered and smiled at Y/N’s quizzical look “so that I could be laying my face on those perfect boobs of yours, little sucker” he chuckled lowly at her glare “What? You can’t blame me they’re just way too amazing, I would die a happy man in there” Y/N rolled her eyes smiling feeling the warmth grow up her face.

A while later she went to put Luca down in the guest room tucking him in before walking back out to the living room and taking the tea Enzo offered her sitting back down with him “You think they’ll get bigger?” Y/N looked at him “Your boobs, you think they’ll get bigger when you get pregnant? Because if they will, I’m taking you to our room right now and we’re not getting out until we get a little Vogrincic in there” he smirked as she smacked his arm playfully “we can’t tonight Mr. there’s a sleeping baby in our guest room, I won’t be fucking you, not that I don’t want to tho” the hazel-eyed woman said lowly sitting on his lap straddling him stroking his chest playfully.

“Then you’re being especially mean right now because you know what you’re doing” Enzo smirked at her innocent-looking smile “Oh yeah, don’t play innocent, we both know exactly what you’re doing grinding against me like this baby girl” he whispered against the skin on her neck kissing softly going to her soft spot slowly grazing over it with his teeth a shaky breath getting caught in the back of her throat her eyes fluttering closed as he kept kissing up and down her sensitive skin. As she ran her hands through his dark locks she heard the baby start crying and sighed pulling away from Enzo “I’ll get him” Y/N got up and walked to the bedroom picking him up from his crib, checking his diaper before laying him down to change him. As the older man looked at her walk away she sighed this has to be the only downfall of babies he thought running his hands through his hair.

Taglist: @madame-fear @lastflowrr @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @deepinsideyourbeing @koiibiito @espinasrubi @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred

P.S: If you enjoyed this and want to be tagged in upcoming work, leave a comment down below.

[drewsbuzzcut]

https://www.tumblr.com/drewsbuzzcut/750397731058630656/theres-just-something-about-a-guy-wearing-grey

Please do a blurb of this in detail- 🤭🫣

Warnings: smut and unedited

You’re laid out on Mat’s bed when he walks in. He’s fresh out of the shower with his hair wet and chest bare. A pair of grey sweatpants hang loosely around his hips. Not so subtly your eyes dip down to where his cock is outlined through the material. So he isn’t wearing any underwear. You force the moan at the base of your throat further down. You love when he wears sweatpants without underwear. There’s just something about it that drives you insanely feral.

“Hey, hotshot. Come here,” you whine and hold out your arms for him.

He gives you a little smirk, his feet quickly carrying him to you. He leans down on his arms, hovering over you. His eyes roam your face and settle on your lips. You lift yourself up so you can attach yours to his, a hum vibrating in his mouth after his tongue comes in contact with yours.

“Hey, baby. I love you,” Mat whispers into your mouth.

“I love you. Lie down with me,” you say and spread your legs so he can love himself between them.

As he settles on top of you, his cock softly drags against your panty clad core and you shudder. Your hips subtly jut up, searching for more friction.

“Fuck, you’re such a tease,” you moan, hands holding onto his biceps as you continue to grind up into him.

You toss your head back with your eyes closed and a soft sigh escaping your lips. A furious blush starts to spread up from your chest to your cheeks. Mat makes you so hot it’s actually crazy.

Mat starts to thrust his hips into yours, igniting a fire within you. You’re not sure why today you’re so sensitive to his touch.

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull his lips onto yours. You’re quick to thrust your tongue down his throat.

“You’re so sexy, pretty girl,” Mat says, pulling away with swollen lips.

“Just like that,” you whimper at the pressure his cock applies to your aching pussy. You’re so sure your panties aren’t doing much to cover how wet you are. You can feel your slick ready to spill.

Mat rubs your clit through the material of your underwear. His eyes are glued to the wet patch and the way you clench around nothing. Your hips are relentless and the constant friction has his balls tightening and his cock pulsing.

The knot in your stomach is being pulled every which way and it makes your body shake with exertion.

“I’m going to come,” you announce while you continue to buck your hips.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” Mat whispers hotly in your ear. His lips wrap around your earlobe and suck, helping your orgasm rip through your body.

You wrap your arms and legs around his body and bring him flush against you. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, but having Mat on top of you keeps you breathless. His skin is hot and taut over his thick muscles. He’s a wet dream personified.

“It’s been a while since you’ve made me come in my pants,” Mat huffs with a small laugh.

His lips attack your neck and work you through your release.

“Yeah well that’s what happens when you don’t wear any underwear, and I can see your cock through your pants,” you him and softly rut your hips into him again. Your action has both of you moaning through a shudder.

Mat smirks down at you and pride blooms in his chest, knowing that you find him irresistible.

[burnt-toast-life]

♡ Chidou ♡

[ID: fanart of Tartaglia and Beidou from Genshin Impact. Tartaglia is stood behind Beidou, hugging her from behind and looking away with a slight blush, most of his face being hidden. Beidou looks behind her at Tartaglia, seeming a bit surprised with a slight blush, her left hand raised. Tartaglia’s cowlick is in the shape of a heart. The background is a dull red with, presumably, a pink heart right behind the two characters. /end ID]

@faemesbond @swanslament @mzukis @abnormaloracle

[field-s-of-flowers]

Honestly I think Tamsyn Muir made Harrow Nova specifically to cater to my all-consuming love of roleswap aus

[kastukj]

Oh dear oh no apparently both Loucha AND Jing yuan are supposed to be rerunning in new Honkai update it’s over for me goodbye February paychecks

[annoyinglibra]

Living in a state with recreational weed is so nice :)

[urbanfiltered]

▪️

[arthur-r]

going mildly insane while online thrifting somebody help me (/lh but /gen)

[phantom-does-a-thing]

Guys I have real and adult money and I can just like… buy things… if I want them

[loststolenorstrayed]

You all gotta watch Flip Flappers it’s such a fucking trip

[opalici0us]

I Dare You || Ryomen Sukuna

| pairings- Sukuna x fem!reader

synopsis- Two weeks of no sex is too much for poor Sukuna.

content- 18+ MNDI, smut, mean Sukuna, unrealistic car sex (classic handprint), unprotected sex, p in v, MAKEUP SEX, Sukuna is a bit rough, spit, soft Sukuna at the end, fingering, pet names (babe, pretty, my girl), established relationship

wc-2.1k

a/n: I am a whore for Sukuna :(((

Sukuna knew you were stubborn when you first started dating. You hated backing down and always had to have the last word. Sukuna thought it was hot for the most part until you guys got into a fight that has lasted almost two weeks. Two weeks of sleeping on the couch in your shared home, two weeks of non-stop belittling and snarky comments, and most importantly two weeks of no sex. 

To many people, Sukuna's desperation sounded ridiculous but they didn’t get it. You two were extremely sexually active, almost fucking every day. Sukuna felt like he was going crazy, not only was he pissed and hurt but he was extremely horny. No amount of jerking off and porn can live up to your warm n’ tight little cunt. 

When he’d see you in nothing but one of his t-shirts, or those cute sundresses he bought you, and especially those damn short skirts, he wanted nothing more than just to back down and apologize first so he could be balls deep inside you. It wasn’t that easy. Anytime he’d try you’d stop him. 

“What are you doing…?” You immediately paused as you felt Sukuna wrap his arms around your waist, not even trying to be subtle about the massive problem currently pressed right against you. You felt him grind his massive erection right against you, a low not-so-subtle grunt escaping from his throat.

 “Nothin’, you just look so fuckin’ sexy in this dress. This is the one I got ya’, right?” He whispered right against your ear, making chills go up your spine. It took everything in your body not to give in to him. His tongue ventured out, licking the lobe of your ear. A soft puff of frustration left your lips.

 “You gonna apologize, hmm?” Your tone was fiery as ever. Sukuna stopped his tormenting and rolled his eyes. “Now go away, I’m trying to do the dishes.” You ripped his arms off of you. Trying your best to ignore the arousal pooling in your panties. 

“God, you’re so stubborn, I don’t even know what I have to apologize for! I’ll just go fuck myself then!” Sukuna spat and stormed off to the bathroom, making sure to slam the door behind him, rattling the house. 

Rolling your eyes at him, really wishing he was making your eyes roll back from his cock. You went back to your original task. As you were finally back in the zone with no thoughts in mind, loud groans could be heard…coming from the bathroom.

You drop the plate you were washing back into the sink. As if your feet had a mind of their own, you made your way to the bathroom, placing your ear against the cold door. “Mmm fuuuck, just like Y/N, wanna make a mess on your face.” You heard your boyfriend's muffled groans, the bastard was doing it on purpose. 

You scoff silently, as much as you wanted to ignore him but you couldn’t ignore the heartbeat felt down there. Sighing in frustration, you squeeze your thighs together to bring some relief to your poor untouched clit. Sukuna continued his sultry groans, babbling out “Lemme fill you up baby.” and “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

Of course, when he came out he had that damn smirk on his face. The kind you wanted to slap off his face, Sukuna was truly going to drive you insane.

The two of you were currently standing inside Yuuji's place for a housewarming party. The smell of cheap liquor and weed filled the air, the scent mixed was almost sickening. Though you and Sukuna couldn’t bother to care. 

“We are not doing this here, Sukuna.” You spat at him. It was barely 10 minutes of being here and you and Sukuna were already fighting in the corner of the living room. His large frame, cornering you against the wall. 

“Doing what Y/N?” He spoke sarcastically, a smirk etched onto his lips.

 “I mean it, I refuse to fight with you in front of your brother and his friends.” You tried to move but he leaned in, successfully trapping you. 

“I’m just saying, I would have preferred if you didn’t wear this skirt here.” He said, lowly. 

“Are we really going to argue about this right now?” You scoffed, an amused smile adorned your face.

“Don’t play dumb with me right now,” He grabbed your chin. “This skirt is so damn short, you could bend over and everyone could see your fucking pussy,” Sukuna furrowed his eyebrows together. “It’s like you wore it on purpose, fuckin’ attention whore, you’re embarrassing me,” He bit his tongue back realizing the words that just came from his mouth, especially seeing the look on your face. Your mouth was opened slightly, and your eyes widened. That familiar lump forming in your throat. You swiftly pushed past him and walked out of the house, Sukuna was close behind on your heels.

“Y/N, c’mon babe! I didn’t mean it like that.” He held onto your arm.

 “Then what did you mean it like then?” You ripped your arm from his grasp, turning around to face him as you two stood under the street lights.

 “We haven’t had sex in two weeks Y/N! We can’t even be in a room together without fighting! Can you blame me? You’re beautiful and everyone can see that, are you even attracted to me anymore?!” Sukuna berated you, raising his voice. 

“Of course, I’m still attracted to you!” You defended yourself, trying to reassure him. 

“Sure, doesn’t feel like it, Y/N,” Sukuna rubbed his face. You could see the frustration written in bold in his expression. “I don’t even know why we are fighting… Are you trying to push me away? Break up with me?” Sukuna looked down, not wanting you to see him look so weak.

“No! Sukuna…I don’t want to break up.” You hesitantly reached out to him, only for him to back away. 

“Then why are you acting like such a bitch?!” Sukuna finally broke, his sadness turning into rage.

 “Excuse me? You have no room to talk! You’re such a dick Sukuna!” You yelled back at him, feeling tears brim your eyes. “You can’t even apologize!” You looked up at him, fighting the urge to break down in front of him.

“What am I supposed to apologize for?” Sukuna stepped towards you, getting into your face. 

“You’re so insufferable,” You spat at him. “Maybe I do want to break up.” You said looking straight into his eyes. 

“Yeah? Then fuckin’ do it, I dare you.” Sukuna inched closer to your face, you could feel his hot breath.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” 

In a matter of seconds, your lips were smashed together, his tongue invading your mouth while your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life. His hands tangled in your hair. You bit down on his bottom lip, a growl escaping from his mouth. He removed his hands from your head to your waist, trying to be as close to you as possible. You felt his hard cock pressing against you, making you moan, instinctively you brought your hand down to palm him through his jeans.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned. “Want me fuck ya? Hmm?” He smacked your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Get in the car.” He demanded and pulled the keys out to unlock it. He crawled into the passenger seat, scooting and leaning the seat back as far as he could get it. 

 “C’mere pretty,” Sukuna pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle him. He slammed the car door shut, maintaining eye contact with you. His hands dipped between your legs, rubbing your mound through your panties. “You soaked through your panties, ha-ah!”

He pulled your panties to the side running his fingers between your folds. You moan loudly, his rough skin sending tingles throughout your body. He started to teasingly rub your clit, barely giving it any stimulation. He moved down your slit once again, probing your tight little entrance. Slipping two fingers inside, thrusting in n’ out at a painfully slow speed.

“P-please Kuna, feel s’ good, w-want more.” Desperate whimpers spilling from your mouth. Your hands clinging onto his biceps to keep your upper body stable. Sukuna's fingers pick up speed, creating loud ‘squelch’ sounds from your wet cunt. 

“Fuckin’ pathetic, got this pussy so sloppy just from kissing.” He said cockily, acting like his dick wasn’t about to burst through the zipper of his jeans. 

“S-shut up, I see t-the wet spot on your jeans.” You smirked and motioned to the spot of pre-cum, seeping through his boxers onto his jeans. 

A scowl formed on Sukunas face, he pulled his hand back and swiftly smacked your pussy, making you yelp. “Yeah? You like pissin’ me off, don’t you?” He landed another harsh smack before, shoving two fingers into your tight hole. You gasped loudly at the feeling, his fingers curling into your sensitive spot, over and over again.

“I…I’m g-gonna cum nngh, if you k-keep doing t-that.” Your legs were trembling with pleasure, a knot forming in your stomach. Your orgasm was so close. Then he stopped…

“I don’t think so,” He chuckled and removed his fingers from your wet warmth. “Want you to cum on my cock, can you do that for me, ride this cock?” His tone was menacing, hiding the desperation in his words. 

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” A little pout on your lips. He chuckled and started to unbutton his jeans, your mouth watering at the sight of his hard length, hidden underneath his boxers. What you’ve been craving for two weeks now. 

Impatiently you reached down to help him, hands fumbling with the waistband. “Impatient? Huh?” Sukuna chuckled, a smirk on his face. His massive member finally free. “Want you to ride me, you know how I like it.” He demanded and helped you guide your hips onto his length. Pulling your skirt up to your waist to watch your bodies connect.

“Shittt, s’ big Kuna.” You squeezed your eyes shut. Never getting used to his size.

“Tsk, this slutty pussy seems to take me fine all those other times, don’t lie to me now.” Sukuna shook his head, pretending to be disappointed. There was an undertone in his words. With no warnings, he thrusted up into you. 

“Oh fuck!” You yelped, his cockhead kissing your cervix perfectly. “D-don’t do that!” You were unable to protest, despite Sukuna saying he wanted YOU to ride him; he's doing all the work.

“Fuck! Always so tight….shittt!” He babbled on and on. His hands dug into your waist, holding you in place so he could violently pound his cock into you with no mercy. His tip was brushing against the bundle of nerves that makes you go crazy. “Yesyesyes, ohmy- Sukuna!” Your screams of pleasure only flued him more.

“Just w-wanna fuck you good, show how I missed fuckin’ my girl.” He groaned loudly. Unable to comprehend anything but the pleasure you’re feeling, your mouth falls open, the drool spilling out, dripping down your chin. Sukuna leans up, his tongue coming out to lick the liquid up.

“Y-you’re s-so sick.” You managed to choke out. Sukuna pulled you down with him, wrapping his arms around your waist. The pace of his thrust never died down, if anything they picked up. The sudden new intensity made him much deeper than before. “So f-fuckin deep Kuna.” 

Your hand slammed against the foggy window, creating a nice hand print. 

“I’m sorry Y/N…m’ really sorry baby.” He suddenly slowed his pace down. His rough grip loosened, hands migrated down to your hips, encouraging you to take over.

Silently you complied, moving against him in circular motions. “N-no I’m sorry, mmph, baby.” You whimpered and pressed your forehead against his. “I s-should have just talked…t-to you.” Your body began to shake again. Your orgasm was creeping up.

“I don’t wanna b-break up.” He admits, his red eyes gazing into yours. “I love you.” He slowly began to thrust back into you, meeting your hips halfway. “Don’t wanna fight with you anymore.” He sounded so desperate.

“I love you too.” Your lips met his for a soft kiss, humming at the feeling. Your release was so close, your walls started to pulse around him. “M’ gonna cum.” Sukuna's ears perked up, he almost came just from hearing your words and feeling the way you squeezed so tightly around him. 

“Yeah? Me too, cum with me baby,” He picked up the pace once again. “Milk this cock.” Heavy groans coming from him. His cum painting your tight walls, your own orgasm hitting you. Pulsating around him, milking every drop of his release. “So good baby, that’s it…” He cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your hips. 

“I forgive you by the way…” You kissed his forehead. 

“Let me eat that pretty pussy first and I’ll forgive you too.”

“Sukuna!”

“Just kidding…”

[euaphoric]

𝟎𝟏. 🥛 ✶𓏲ּ “ i want to sew all my love into you ” — [ 정국이 ]

he was comfort, security, and need, all in one. it had a name; home <3

pairing ◞⁺⊹ husband!jk x wife!reader genre ◞⁺⊹ married/domestic au, pwp, slight age difference (jk is older by 5 years)

warnings ◞⁺⊹ insane tooth-rotting fluff bc i’m in need of high dopamine levels, cute n soft smut, you’re a clingy wifey, minor mentions of anxious/sad thoughts, o/c is kinda whiny and hella attention/touch-starved, o/c just misses her bby fr, daddy kink, major impreg kink, foreplay, they get all sentimental n mushy gushy at the end agghhh, aftercare bc koo is the literal definition of the perfect husband ^_^ wc ◞⁺⊹ 4.6k

音楽 — eyes locked, hands locked by rv

i’m vv excited to be back and writing again, i missed it sm ;(( i did this poll i few days ago and this idea won but i’ve decided to write them all so this is the first of three !! (〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ+°

summer days grew humid, each was hotter than the last. though it isn’t your least favorite season, you prefer to spend most of your time indoors as the heat often makes you feel faint and the air can be suffocating. usually these lazy, torrid afternoons were shared with your lovely husband, either you two would be laid up on the sofa or in bed watching your favorite shows/movies but today went a little off schedule.

you were all alone in your bedroom, feeling a bit sulky as your husband wasn’t around to tend to your needs or give you any affection. it’s not jungkook’s fault though; he’s been toiled away since this morning, offering to help your parents move and rearrange some of the new furniture that arrived today. you decided to stay at your family beach house this summer for a change of scenery, you hadn’t been here since you were seventeen, let alone seen your parents in person since last year. spending some quality time together has been long overdue and you couldn’t be any happier about it.

both your parents absolutely adore jungkook, they thought he was the sweetest, kindest, most generous person they’ve ever met— which says a lot considering they’ve never been a fan of anyone you dated previously. when you introduced him to them a few years ago, they had slightly pre-judged him based off his outward appearance, assuming that he wouldn’t be the type to take relationships seriously or even want to settle down and get married someday. but not even hours later their perceptions of him changed drastically, your parents could tell that he was a genuine soul who loved you unconditionally and would do absolutely anything for you.

that very same day, your mom spoke with you privately to express her virtuous first impressions, saying how much she loves him already and this is who you should’ve been dating from the start. your parents had extremely high standards for your future partner, especially your mom— but jungkook exceeded every single one of their expectations, checking all the boxes off their list. “i can tell just by the glint in his eyes whenever he looks at you… he’s more than in love, he’s infatuated. the way he talks about you as if you’re the most wonderful thing to have ever came into his life— he’s definitely going to be the one you’ll marry.” your mom gets all teary eyed as she spoke those last few words, picturing her one and only daughter all grown up, in a beautiful wedding dress, finally getting to see you live your happily ever after.

not even a couple months after graduating from uni you got engaged to the love of your life, proudly getting your degree you worked your ass off for and becoming a soon to be wife. you had to move across the country for a job offer of a lifetime but it was worth it, jungkook was beyond supportive in any decision you made and was there with you every step of the way, holding your hand through it all.

shortly after moving, you two got married and the rest was history, it was stressful dealing with so many life changing events all within a span of such a short time but you somehow managed. had it not been for jungkook’s constant encouragement and willingness to work/talk things out, you would’ve been a complete trainwreck. he was the balance you needed to keep yourself afloat, you felt so lucky, more than blessed to have a caring, understanding man like him.

the more you daydream about him, the more you wished he was holding you right now. you’re feeling lonely, so empty, and a little sad, his absence fills your mind with restless thoughts, hoping that he’ll come to your rescue soon enough. before jungkook, you were highly independent, never needed anyone to take care of you because you did everything for yourself; he never gave up on gaining your trust and has shown time and time again how dependable he is. you’ll forever admire how much effort he’s put into getting to know you over the years, that no one’s ever came close to making you feel the way he does— so high as if you’re soaring through the sky, living in heaven on earth.

he was the main provider of the household, you didn’t have to worry about anything nor lift a finger, all you did was focus on your career. you had a worry free lifestyle, the perfect job, perfect husband, what was there to possibly complain about? most aren’t so fortunate to be in your position so you never took any of it for granted. you love him more than anything in this world, you couldn’t stand to be away from him for another minute, you miss your hubby so much :( you craved his presence near you, needing him around you physically, wanting his soothing touch to ease your mind.

you wanna feel his sunkissed skin against yours, his warmth, the way his scent clouds your senses as he trails kisses down the curve of your neck, tangling your fingers in his dark, wispy hair. you want to lay your head on his broadened chest while snuggling up into him, hearing the gentle sounds of his heartbeat, intertwining your small hands with his large ones. you desire for him to kiss you everywhere, leaving no surface of you going untouched, pinning your body down between him and the mattress, like a flower pressed into the pages of a book and all that’s written is his name over and over. so many different scenarios play in your head as a means to pass the time, but they can only keep you sane for so long.

you’ve grown desperate for him at this point, finally coming out of your room to see what he might be up to now, searching the entirety of the house. you ended up finding him downstairs in the living room with your mom right beside as verbal assistance, not only did he lift and move most of the furniture but now he’s helping to mount up the new TV without even breaking a sweat in the process. was there anything he couldn’t do? probably not, he was a man of endless talents. your dad was sent out to go grocery shopping so your husband was pretty much doing everything on his own while your mom simply watches in amusement.

she was yet again impressed by your husband’s handy work, “wow jungkook, you’re really strong!” he was indeed. now you’re getting flashbacks to when he’d manhandle you and lift your body with ease in one swift motion to switch positions. his hands needed to be all over you right this second or else you’ll simply die of attention starvation. “mom, are you gonna keep him busy all day? ‘m getting really boreddd.” you childishly whine as if you weren’t a fully grown, married adult. to be fair though, it’s been hours since you’ve seen him and as much as you wanted to give him some space to help out around the house, you still had your needs to. the need in question being him in your bed, immediately.

“why don’t you go sit by the pool or something? you’ve been cooped up in that room since this morning, get some fresh air!” your mom suggests an alternative to wait but you shook your head in an instant, “nuh uh, too hot, i’ll melt like an ice cream cone!” you’d rather stay locked inside your air conditioned room than having to deal with the searing hot sun baking you well done at 450 degrees. “i’m almost done sweetheart, promise.” jungkook quickly reassures before hammering one of the nails into the wall, the way his veins would protrude through his arms as he repeats the action made you mindlessly clench your thighs together. he could make anything look insanely hot, it was almost unfair.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

after another twenty minutes or so he was finally done and now free to go, thrilled to have him all to yourself once again. you practically yanked his arm off as you led him up the staircase but your mom had one more thing to say, “will you be helping us tonight with dinner? i’m making your favorite!” he turns for a second to answer, “uh- yes of course !” that enthusiastic, bunny-like smile of his that you’ve grown to love for so long never fails to make you melt, just so effortlessly pretty without even trying.

but now you realize that you only have a limited amount of time with him, great… you’ll have to wait even longer to have him exactly as you’ve imagined. there’s only so much pent up sexual frustration you can take, you’ve been patient for almost eight hours. that’s probably the longest you two might’ve gone without having sex— okay maybe that’s an exaggeration but you do have a very active sex life with your husband, you try to do it at least twice a day and if you’re both feeling a little friskier it can sometimes go up to 4-5 times~.

your sex drive used to be quite low, never really seeing it as a huge necessity for you— until you met jungkook, of course. there was an immediate sexual attraction that you felt towards him, you’ve never felt so drawn to anyone before, he was irresistible. you’ve had some internal issues with your performance in the bedroom, it took a lot for you to reach your peak but could never get yourself to finish (unless you did it yourself) but with jungkook? that’s a whole different ballgame. you could simply cream in your panties just from kissing those luscious lips of his, he ignites a fire in you that’ll never wither into ashes.

once the door to your room was closed, both his hands found purchase around your waist, caging you into him and pulling you in for a deep kiss, melting right into his hold. your bodies flowing with pure lust and greed for him, not even thinking twice as your hand travels down lower to palm him through his sweats. he let out a breathy chuckle from your sudden actions once he pulled away, “someone’s feelin’ kinda slutty tonight.” he teased, which you took no offense since that’s just your collective humor.

“mhmm, ‘m only the biggest slut for you. now stop neglecting your wifey and gimme all your love.” since he hasn’t been giving you much attention all day you were acting a bit whiny about it, jungkook didn’t like that word though, neglect? that just wasn’t something in his vocabulary when it came to you. “huh? don’t ever say that again, you know i’d never purposefully neglect you, ever.” he made sure to emphasize that, he knows you weren’t being serious but it does hurt a little to know you may secretly feel this way. he loves you and you can feel it without him even needing to say it, that’s how intense it is.

“it was just a joke koo… didn’t mean it like that.” you jut your lip into a tiny pout, leaning in to kiss him again but he turns away, denying you the void of what you wanted most. “a joke is supposed to be funny last time i checked.” he retorts before sneaking off to make a beeline towards the bed, confused when you don’t follow suit after him. “what’re you standing there for? get your little butt over here.” he impatiently demands, patting his lap for you to sit on top. you listen and make your way over to him, straddling his lap with both legs on either side of him as he brings you in closer. he wraps his arms around your waist again, tightly holding you in his grasp, your frame sinks right into his chest.

he locks his lips with yours, kissing you slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time; what’s the rush? you had the rest of the night at your disposal. needy hips languidly rock back and forth against his semi hard-on, the fabric of the pajamas shorts you wore were so thin you could feel his cock throbbing underneath. you audibly gasped when he brushes up against your weak spot, it feels amazing, your panties turned into a sticky puddle from the pleasure; moaning into the kiss as he inhales your sighs. you were more than hungry for him, you were ravenous— only the taste of him could quench your avid thirst. you’re already as close as you can be but you wish to be even closer, if it was impossible you’d crawl into his skin and fuse your bones together to become one, you’re so in love it sickens you.

“need you to touch me,” you whimper for more when his lips drew from yours momentarily, “please.”

jungkook loves seeing you like this, his pretty wife acting all hot and bothered just for him, but he’d lying if he said it wasn’t the same way for you too. “where baby ?” his warm breath against you leaves a shiver to your spine, his voice low and raspy. “everywhere.” you beg in desperation, “just wanna to feel you, need you so bad…” you continued to grind your core onto his clothed erection, becoming even whinier as time passes.

he smirks at that answer, knowing that he’s the only one that can have you in this way. “need you too baby,” his tone is nothing short of a whisper, lazily rutting his hips up to match the pace of your movement, “been thinkin’ about you all day, can’t wait to fuck this little pussy.” his middle and index finds your clit to rub through your pajamas, making you bite your lip so hard it’ll leave a bruise. you’re both so horny and desperate for each other like some hormonal teens, you’re about to explode from how sensitive you are, your whole body feels tingly.

“jungkook!” a familiar voice shouts from a distance, it was muffled but you know that was definitely your mom who just called for him. “come back downstairs, i think something’s wrong with the remote, it’s not working— help !” she sounded a bit overdramatic which is how she usually is most of the time. you groan in annoyance, getting even more frustrated that you had to stop, all you want is some private alone time with your husband but no, the universe said not today! you really wanna curse your mom for being a total cock block right now .. -_-

๑ ๑ ๑

“i’m gonna put a baby in you someday.” your husband casually says while rubbing your stomach, his inked skin splayed across your bare form. “in this cute little tummy right here.” he points near your belly button, planting a small kiss to it. you two were finally alone once again and this time it was for good. after jungkook helped your mom figure out what was wrong with the remote (it wasn’t broken, she just forgot to put a new set of batteries in) and ate dinner with you and your parents, the night was bound to end like this.

this isn’t the first time he’s said something like this and it surely won’t be the last, but you burst into a giggle, “quit kidding around kook.” he’s always playing around but you can count on one hand how many times he’s actually finished inside you, since you’re not on birth control for health reasons you have to be extra careful to not end up getting pregnant. there’s been a handful of times where he’s had to run to the store and get you a morning after pill which you’d just hope for the best and leave it up to the universe. you have noticed that jungkook has been more vocal about wanting children lately, so maybe he’s hinting at finally taking the next step.

“and if i told you i wasn’t?” he shifts slightly, eyes flickering up to stare into your gaze. “would you let me paint your walls ? give you a baby so i can see my stunning wife bear our children?” the thought of you carrying his child pops into his head a lot, probably on an hourly basis— he’s more than ready to start a family, but he’s still not sure where you stand 100% on the idea. there was no pressure on his side, but it’s important to make sure you’re both on the same page.

your hands snake up to his chin, cupping it firmly, ready to make the final say once and for all. “yes koo, i’ll let you do anything to me. i trust you, i trust us.” that’s all you need to withstand through any obstacle(s), trust and trust alone. if that doesn’t exist, the foundation will be sure to crumble— disintegrating into nothing. you’ve never trusted someone as much as you do jungkook, he’s the reason you even get out of bed at times, makes you want to push yourself to become a better person. real love is the refusal to never give up on one another, even through the toughest, most ugliest moments.

what you’ve come to realize is that you have all of him and everything he’s promised to provide is all yours; his heart, his last name, his vow to stay by your side forever— through sickness and health. he’s given every single aspect of himself he has to offer, the only thing left that’s missing is a tiny addition that carries both you and jungkook’s DNA. you’re more than curious to see what the outcome will be, harboring no regrets inside. jungkook’s smile grew wider, feeling faint tears rim his eyes at the thought of you putting all your trust in him. you have no idea just how much that means to him.

his head lowers back to your torso, imprinting a trail of kisses, slowly making his way down further and further. your skin feels as if it’s on fire, boiling hot like the scorching summer heat. he took an ample amount of time to worship your body, leaving wet kisses to your inner thighs, “i’ve wanted this for so long…” he hums against your flesh, insides buzzing with raw passion and desire. “want to finally do this together.” he gently nibbles, a faint bite mark appears to which he repeats on the other side. “your tits are gonna get even bigger, more plump and so full of milk,” he continues, elated with so much enthusiasm, “that pregnancy glow will make you even more gorgeous.” he wasn’t saying all of this for nothing, he truly cannot wait to experience it all, how your belly will grow each month, all the random/weird food cravings you’ll get, and gracefully handle any sudden mood swings.

you were aching for him, you couldn’t even answer back, your heads reeling with too many thoughts— the thought of him stuffing you to the brim with his cock. you were topless but wanted him to take off the rest, wanted him to fuck you until your body physically shakes and you can’t think of anything but him being buried balls deep into your sousing cunt. you had to savour every last bit of this though, etch every little detail in your brain to replay as a supercut one day; remembering the time you two made love to conceive your first child.

jungkook’s slender digits move skillfully to hook around the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down along with your drenched panties. “it’s crazy to me how this is all mine,” he pauses to admire your glistening arousal, scooping it up with his one of his fingers to have a quick taste. saccharine. “i have the prettiest, sexiest, hottest wife in the whole fucking world.” he’ll never not compliment you, even when you’re old and gray he will always remain the same. “stopp~” you toy with your bottom lip, cheeks turning rosy at his constant sweet talk. then you become a pile of mush, simply too absorbed with pleasure as he sunk one of his digits into you, thrusting in and out slowly. “fuck.. feels s’good- please don’t stop.” you beg for this to never end, bidding all concept of time to vanish in hopes of it lasting infinitely.

“we’re going to create the most beautiful family,” he coos, licking a stripe to your clit, swiping up and down as he continued pumping his fingers in your wetness, “just you and me.” he only came up for air to say those last few lines, diving right back in to drink up your deliciousness. his tongue adds light pressure to your overly sensitive bud, making you twitch and subconsciously jolt up— his free hand forcibly brings your hips back down, locking you in place so you have nowhere to go— forced to take all that he gives you. paradise. that’s what this is. you’re already close to the edge, the broken moans that escaped your lips are like a soft ballad to his ears, cursing under your breath, panting, crying out his name repeatedly.

“ah! s’close… don’t stop, don’t stop..” you plea so pathetically, voice getting shakier as you reach your climax, his face was soaked, fucking drenched. he’ll willingly drown, submerge himself into the flood of you, no other place he’d rather be than between these perfect, plush thighs. he drives you into further insanity when his pace drew more rapid, finding the ultimate sweet spot. the lethal combination of his fingers and his tongue working to give you a mind blowing orgasm, all you could do was utter feeble, plaintive cries, latching onto his fluffy hair as you ride out your sudden high that’s stampeding into you full force. your body goes inert, limbs pliant beneath his embrace. “you did so good for me angel, m’so proud of you.” jungkook briefly pecks both your thighs, giving it a little smack once he comes back up to face you again.

he quickly discards the rest of his clothes, but everything’s moving in slow motion. his movements are frantic yet it still wasn’t quick enough, he needs to feel you so badly. his manhood throbs against your folds, sliding his shaft between the puffy, saturated lips, making such delightful sounds. “quit teasin’,” you whine, not in the mood for prolonging this anymore. he doesn’t say anything, just twisting a smile in response, but he’ll give you exactly what you want. who is he to deny his wife’s orders? so he finally enters you, filling you up little by little, inch by inch; and when he’s fully settled in, your walls clench around his length immediately. “never fails to amaze me how i fuck this little pussy on the daily but you’re still so fuckin’ tight… always squeezin’ me babe.” his breath hitched towards the end, already sounding so pussydrunk from the way you suck in the entirety of him.

your legs hook around each side of his waist, keening at the way his cock drives into you, slow but sensual, moving your hips to match his rhythm. “be good for daddy and wait for me. wanna cum together.” he husks, to which you obediently nod at his request. your jaw slacks open wide from his cock hitting your walls beautifully, each stroke he gave sent you to a further state of delirium. he picks up his speed a little more, his brain empty with no thoughts but this warm, dewy pussy swallowing him up, groaning as you leave scratches along his back. jungkook’s sweet compliments never stop, they only intensify. ‘you’re all mine, and i’m all yours baby’ ‘your face looks so pretty when it’s all fucked out’ ‘love fucking this perfect little cunt’ and ‘i love you so much, my angel baby.’ it brings you to the verge, strings of shattered moans evade your senses.

your hands greedily come up the sides of his face, pulling him in for a frenzied, yet passionate kiss caging him in just in case he has second thoughts, trapping him with no choice but to cum inside. “shit— keep going like that and you’re def getting pregnant tonight.” he groans against your lips, this only made you clench around him tighter, “please daddy- wan’ your cum, put your babies in me..” you want him to paint your walls white, milk him for all he’s worth and some. his strokes get sloppier as his high approaches, squeezing your thighs as he plunges deeper. it doesn’t take much longer for him to shoot a hefty in load inside, planting every bit of his seed as the waves of your second orgasm ripples through you. you’re both heavily panting and gasping for air, when he pulls out you’re left empty again, but at least you were stuffed with his hot cum. he looks down at the mess he’s made, sodden and creamy, picking up some that’s spilled out of your cunt to push back in. “we can’t let any go to waste, right ?” “mm… yea.” you bit your lip, still shaking, electricity flowing through your veins.

he topples over in exhaustion, way too tired to move. well, at least for now— he’ll be able to go again in another hour or so. “you’re going to be such an amazing mom,” he says while snuggling up in the crook of your neck, “remember the day i asked you out? i thought you were gonna say no.” that was random… but also jungkook is known for saying the most unexpected shit at the oddest times. “what ?” you were so confused, firstly this came out of nowhere but also why would he ever think that? it was basically love at first sight with each other. “wasn’t nearly as confident back then, i used to practice in the mirror how i’d do it.” he chuckles at those old memories, in hindsight none of it was necessary because he didn’t say any of the lines he rehearsed. defeated the whole purpose.

“since the day we first met i knew you were the girl i’d spend the rest of eternity with.” his fingers trace down your spine as he spoke, you’re so overfilled with joy that you could cry. you regret absolutely nothing, the only thing you do is all the other men who came before jungkook, all those losers who were wastes of time, but that journey has led you here and this is where you’ll stay for the rest of your life. it still feels like the honeymoon stage with him, a never ending blissful rollercoaster. “i want to sew all my love into you,” his hands danced around your skin, inhaling your natural scent, you feel so soft and smooth. “thread by thread, seam by seam, i’ll tether our intricate souls together.” you hummed to his words, he’s a romantic at heart just like you, he still writes occasional love letters to you and is always doing something to bring a smile to your face— whether it be coming home with your favorite candy, buying you flowers, or taking you out on cute, fun dates. every day is like a new surprise, never knowing what you’re gonna get when it comes to your husband’s spontaneity.

you’re both a little sticky, sweaty, and smell of nothing but pure sex. jungkook ends up carrying you all the way to the bathroom, deciding to run a nice, relaxing bath for the two of you. he adds your favorite lavender bubble bath, making the water extra bubbly and soapy for you which he knows you love. when you're both in the bathtub, your backs facing him as he uses a pink loofah to clean you up, embedding gentle kisses to the nape of your neck and shoulders as he does it. he held you for what seemed like forever, just admiring each other’s company while under the water, almost falling asleep right in his arms.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

let’s make the circle

that’s inside of us.

every day it rotates like that,

color me ☆ 彡

am trying to write longer stufff, i enjoyed writing this story a lot, lmk what you think . ! ! !

to see more chaos click here (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ♡♡♡ (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

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

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

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

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

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

It’s September twenty-third.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time in a year, it –

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

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

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

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

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

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

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

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

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

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

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. They’re half you.

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

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

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

Fuck it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

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

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

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

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

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

Joel’s panicking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

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

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

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

“Am I what, darlin’?”

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

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

Knock knock knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

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

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

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

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

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

It’s a fucking nightmare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

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

You blink your eyes open.

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

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

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

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

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

But – he’s here. He made it.

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

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

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

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

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

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always watching, always listening.

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

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

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

“I’ll call,” he assures.

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

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

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

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

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

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

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

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

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

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

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

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

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

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

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

Mom.

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

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

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

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

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

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

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

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

You.

Her mom.

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

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

You turn to look up at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally fucking get it.

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

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

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

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

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

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

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

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

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

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

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

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

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

“Me, either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sarah.

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

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

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

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

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

More than the whole world, Mama.

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

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

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

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

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

Just for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

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

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

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

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

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

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

“I don’t doubt it.”

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

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

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

You linger in the living room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

“You mean the three of us?”

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

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

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

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

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

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

He takes another unsteady breath.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you ask.

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

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

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

He’s hungry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he pushes in.

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

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

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

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

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

You agree, “Tighter.”

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

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

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

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

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

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

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

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

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

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

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

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

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

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

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

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

“Needed a little help, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Made for each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. Her, and her little sister.

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

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

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

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

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”