#all I wanted to do is take a nap and get some rest

[lost-st4rs]

Debt Collector AU >:)

Doodles based off of some scenes in the fic

Chapter 1

~2,461 words

Cuphead tosses and turns, trying so desperately to lull himself to sleep but it’s useless. With all of Porkrind’s snoring and his mind running a mile a minute, there’s no way he can get a good night’s rest. So, the teen sits up from his sleeping bag and carefully crawls out, being sure to stay quiet so as to not wake up the grumpy pig from his slumber. Cuphead grabs his shoes from the side of his sleeping bag and slips them on, then he leaves the small shop as quietly as he can.

He just needs to clear his head, he’ll be back in a bit to take a quick nap to replenish his energy.

“An’ where do you think yer’ goin’?” Cuphead stops dead in his tracks, frozen. After a second he then turns to face the pig standing at the door of his shop with his usual arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.

“I’m just goin’ on a walk.” Cuphead replies, but he supposes Porkrind didn’t like his tone because after he said that he got a mean glare.

“No yer’ not. Get back in ‘ere.” Cuphead looked off to the side and rolled his eyes, but the teen does as he’s told anyway and drags himself back inside the tiny shop. He’s seen Porkrind angrier than this before, and it ain’t pretty. Porkrind points at the back room as a silent demand telling Cuphead to go back to bed.

He knows that the older toon is only looking out for him since Cuphead lost everyone he loves in the span of one night, but he doesn’t have to act like his dang dad.

Cuphead takes off his shoes before tucking himself back into his sleeping bag. Great, now he’s alone with his thoughts again. But maybe he would’ve been either way, he just didn’t want Porkrind to see him when he’s most vulnerable… That’d be bad for his ego.

Porkrind walks into the back room, sitting down at his own sleeping bag. The pig lets out a grumbly sigh and Cuphead has the itching feeling that he’s about to have a serious talk with him.

“Alright, Cup. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’m alright.”

“I don’t believe that. Tell me ‘r else I won’t stop buggin’ you ‘bout it.” Cuphead groans quietly and he proceeds to turn his back on the pig and pull the blanket over his head.

Porkrind sighs again and rubs the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “Okay, I get it. ‘M sorry for bein’ nosy.” Cuphead stays quiet, Porkrind continues, “But you bein’ all… sad ‘n shit is… it’s worryin’ me.” Cuphead slowly pulls the blanket down a bit, just enough so that his eyes are peeking out and he listens intently. “So what I’m tryna’ say is… ugh, I’m tryna’ comfort you dammit.” Cuphead snickers softly and comes out from under the blanket and faces the older toon.

“Yer’ really bad at this.” He jokes with a small grin. Porkrind rolls his eyes and huffs out through his nose.

“Yeah, yeah, ya’ don’t need’a rub it in.” Cuphead chuckles dryly, Porkrind manages a smile at that. “But seriously, kid. What’s got ya’ all pent up?” Cuphead sighs heavily and holds his face in his hands.

“…Everything. I just- I’m such an idiot…”

Porkrind gets up from his spot across from Cuphead and goes to sit down beside the teenager. He pats his back lightly, and a bit awkwardly, but it doesn’t go unappreciated by the red cup.

“I…” Cuphead starts to fidget with the hem of his yellow gloves, trying to find the right words. “I was bein’ dumb an’ sold off my soul at the Dev’s casino. Again. And somehow I sold off Mugsy’s soul as well. But I just wanted to help! I- I really did..! I needed the money to help Elder Kettle with his illness…” The teen tries to compose himself, already feeling himself getting worked up just talking about the mess he’d made.

Porkrind hums thoughtfully, Cuphead continues, his voice getting a bit quieter and quieter the more he confides in the pig. He tries to hide the way his eyes start to swell and the way his voice croaks ever slightly the more he talks.

“When I had to fight all of those debtors back in the isles… I- I dunno… I wasn’t the same, I guess… I started havin’ nightmares about the Devil and fight’n my friends… And now I’m- I’m going through it all over again!” Cuphead shudders, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. You can’t cry, you can’t cry, he repeated to himself in his head.

“Sounds rough. How’ve you been handling it?” Porkrind doesn’t point out how Cuphead turned away from him to compose himself.

The red cup sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve. “I dunno… I’ve just kinda been- tryna’ not think ‘bout it and focus on getting contracts as fast as I can.” The pig hums again.

“Yeah, ya’ see, stop doin’ that, none of that anymore. Look, I know I’m no expert but I know enough to understand that ignorin’ serious issues like that isn’t the best way to solve ‘em.”

“Okay, wise guy. What should I do then?” Porkrind flicks Cuphead’s forehead. “AH- hey!”

“Don’t give me sass, kid.” Cuphead sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry. The older just rolls his eyes and lightly shoves him, to which earns a chuckle from the teen. He knows Porkrind isn’t actually mad or annoyed at him, that endeared grin on the pig’s face tells it all.

“It’s all ‘bout what works fer’ you. An’ clearly we’re two different people, so whatever I do might not work out fer’ you.” Cuphead nods, not really getting it but he’s willing to listen in order to understand the best he can. “Hmm… ‘kay, how ‘bout this? You try ta’ confront yer’ feelings and trauma, understand ‘em and accept that, yeah, it sucked, but what matters is how you’ll react to it. Will ya’ keep sulking like a baby or do something ‘bout it?”

Cuphead ponders on this, looking down at his hands. His mouth thins into a straight line and his brows furrowed as he thinks long and hard about the advice. It seems a bit impossible, Cuphead never was great at confronting his emotions, so this seemed like a rather daunting and intimidating task to overcome.

The pig pats the teen’s head, effectively breaking him out of his thoughts. “You can think ‘bout it in the morning. Go to bed, yer’ gonna need it.” Porkrind stands up, doing that old man groan that old guys always seem to do whenever they sit up and he walks over to his sleeping bag and lays down. Cuphead does the same, fluffing out his pillow before resting his head down.

It’s a lot to take in, but tomorrow is another day, so he’ll have plenty of time to think about it. Porkrind is right though, he needs to get as much rest as he can so he’ll be able to take on those debtors.

It isn’t long before Cuphead’s eyes are fluttering close and sleep pulls him in it’s comforting embrace. He feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and he can finally be at peace, if only for a little while.

—

The Devil said Cuphead had a month to collect all of the contracts, which was awfully generous of him considering the last time Cups worked for him he’d only given him a day. Cuphead wasn’t complaining though. He’s already collected six contracts out of the twenty-eight needed, he’d lost the seventh one from that annoying demon (Bendy he said his name was?) the other day, and he plans on getting it back and figuring out WHY they are stealing the other ones and if he’s another debt collector like him. Which would be a big problem for competition.

Walking on a dirt trail beside some green pastures with trees to his right shading him from the sun, Cuphead looks over his list, his eyes quickly skimming through all the names. Already defeated that guy… those guys too… her as well… He’s got six contracts right now out of all twenty-eight so that means he just needs twenty-two more. But if you count the ones that the stupid Ink Demon already took then that would be… sixteen. Good, okay so that demon has only collected six so far, which was already pretty bad but it could be worse. Cuphead will just have to steal them back from him. He doesn’t know how strong this guy is but he’ll take him on anyway, he’s fought the literal Devil (and won, mind you), so surely some imp or whatever should be a walk in the park.

Cuphead spots a crow up ahead on the old wood fence beside the dirt trail. Its eyes follow Cuphead as he approaches. The teen then stops in front of it, eyeing it curiously while tilting his head to the side, with the crow mimicking his movements. Cuphead reaches into his sweater’s pocket, fishing out some sunflower seeds and carefully offering them to the ebony bird. The crow looks down at the seeds then at Cuphead with interest. After a moment it eats the offering from the teen’s hand.

He didn’t think it would actually eat straight from his hand, but he’s a big animal lover so he doesn’t mind at all and he lets out a small smile. Once the crow is finished eating the sunflower seeds it caws at the red cup and flies away into the forest, Cuphead watching intently as it does so.

“Didn’t really take ya’ for someone who likes crows.” Cuphead whips his body around to see the ever annoying Ink Demon behind him wearing that stupid grin on his face. Cuphead glares daggers at the other and ignites a blue flame on his fingertip, just in case the other tries anything. “Whoa, whoa, calm down, sweet cakes. I only wanna talk.” The demon puts his hands up as a sign he was friendly. For now. Cuphead gives a look to Bendy at the strangely affectionate nickname, who in turn just grins wider at the red cup’s expression.

Cuphead untenses ever slightly, furrowing his brows he studies the demon for any signs of deceit, but he can’t really tell anyways so he just opts to hear what the other has to say for now.

“What is it you wanna talk about?” Cuphead asks finally.

“I just wanted to get some things straight that’ve been buggin’ me ever since I heard about a cup stealin’ my contracts.” The demon explains and Cuphead frowns at that.

“YOUR contracts?? No, no, those are MINE. I dunno know who ya’ think you are but I need all those damn contracts ta’ get rid of my own debt.” Bendy puts a hand to his mouth, thinking silently with his tail swishing lazily behind him.

“Wait, so… the Devil sent ya’ here too?” Cuphead hesitantly nods, but then it clicks, his eyes going wide. “Well, that sure is weird. You said ya’ needed all of the contracts but ya’ see, I need all of ‘em too.” Cuphead shifts his gaze down at the rocky ground, trying to wrap his mind around this- predicament that they’re both in.

“Only one of us can get them all.” He says after a quiet moment of silence and meets the Ink Demon’s gaze.

“And so it seems. Welp, I reallyy need those contracts so I’ll give you the chance to hand them over peacefully,” Bendy grins and outstretches his hand for the papers but Cuphead glares at him, going into a defensive stance.

“Last chance, Cupsy.” Something inside Cuphead snaps upon hearing that absolutely idiotic nickname and the next thing he knows he’s rapidly firing his finger gun at the sly demon who in turn just dodges all the bullets with swift ease. Bendy is light on his feet and Cuphead just can’t seem to land a hit and it angers him to no end. Then in the blink of an eye Bendy has disappeared from sight.

“Look-“ Cuphead shrieks and shoots at the demon who appeared beside him from an ink puddle below, but the bullet goes right through Bendy and the colour from Cuphead’s face drains. The demon merely snickers and melts into a mush of ink before Cuphead’s very eyes then TWO Bendy’s appear beside Cuphead.

“You can’t shoot ink, silly!” Cuphead punches one of the clones and they too melt, little bits of the black liquid stains his glove. It’s a little inconvenience really, but it still does the job at getting him angrier by the second. “I really like you, cupface,” Cuphead growls in frustration and punches the other clone, it splatters like a tiny ink explosion, the black liquid staining his sweater. OH JUST GREAT! How’s he gonna wash that out?!

Cuphead is clearly outnumbered and at a disadvantage, who knows what other tricks this demon has up his sleeve? Heck, with an ability like that he can probably do a bunch of different terrible things! And to top it all off it seems like his powers don’t even work on the guy!

Cuphead darts his eyes around, trying to search for the real Bendy.

“We can come to a compromise, yeah? You give me the contracts and I let you go alive, how ‘bout that?” Cuphead twists around and there the demon stands with his stupid smile and his hand outstretched once more. Cuphead stares at the other teen’s hand then his face then his hand again, contemplating. No, he can’t accept a deal like that! He has his brother Mugman and Elder Kettle to save! Cuphead glares at the other and slaps his hand away.

“No.” He simply says, but it for some reason just makes the other’s grin grow wider. As if this was all just some game. “You may have your reasons for dealing with the Devil, but I also have mine.” Bendy stares for a second, quiet. Then he snickers. And all Cuphead can think is how horrible that sound is.

“Okay, then so be it. But I'll be taking this one fer’ now. Try taking it back if ya can.” Bendy waves a contract in his hand and Cuphead takes a moment to process but then it finally does and in the next moment he’s frantically searching all of his pockets. Cuphead looks up glaring at the sneaky demon and Bendy only grins a cheeky smile before disappearing into a puddle of ink. Cuphead is left there fuming with his fists clenched and his head boiling.

He really hates that demon.

—

Bendy jumps up from an inky puddle in the grassy forest ground. He dusts himself off a bit then climbs up a decently sized tree, his movements resembling that of a cat. He leans his back against the trunk and crosses his legs onto each other with his arms resting on the back of his head.

He’s having way too much fun teasing that cup, isn’t he? The way Cuphead gets easily angered is truly a funny sight to the demon, and just thinking of the other teen’s reactions at the nicknames Bendy calls him makes the Ink Demon let out a satisfied grin.

Okay, okay, that’s enough fun though. He needs to focus on business. Bendy sits up straight and takes out the yellowed papers from his suit If his math is correct, (it rarely ever is) he currently has seven contracts, meaning that Cuphead now has five. Bendy thinks back on his visit with the hot headed cup. He honestly could have taken all of the contracts easily. But he didn’t. Hm. No, no, it doesn't mean anything. He’s just been super bored lately and Cuphead just happened to be the most interesting thing to cure the demon’s boredom.

Bendy is pulled away from his thoughts when he senses something coming. It isn’t anything dangerous, no, it’s actually a friendly crow. Bendy holds out his arm and the crow lands on it and caws. Bendy giggles and pets the crow gently on its tiny head.

“Got anythin’ good fer me, buddy?” The crow caws and Bendy’s grin grows wider. “Really?” It caws again. “Alright, alright. Thanks for yer service.” The crow bows its head politely then proceeds to melt into a jumble of ink, to which Bendy absorbs through the fabric of his clothes. “Maybe fooling around for a bit wouldn’t hurt, right? I’ve got a whole dang month to get these contracts. I’ve got time.” The Ink demon says to himself then jumps off of the tree and walks off through the woods.

( A/N: I LIVE!!! Yah sorry for taking super long for ch.2 😓 the people back on ao3 yearned for more BUT I GOT BUSY AGAIN AGHH. Anyways yah, take ye scraps. This was a bit of a short chapter, my usual word count goal is like 3-4k but we ball. ‘TILL NEXT TIME FOLKS! )

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

I just love thinking of shifter reader as different werebeast/animals like if we could shift into a fox there would just be the of giggling or high pitched laughing with the sound of quick pattering paws following or if we could change into a tiger and one of the bats hear a coo like moo sound and they end up thinking bat cow somehow got into the house but it was just us bored or smth (if I was a tiger I would definitely flop on the family members like there pillows lol -💠)

I love this idea!!! (small trigger warning: slight mention of self-harm).

Just imagine this, reader: a little baby who can't control their werebeast form. So every night, their form changes—one minute you're a tiny little lion cub, the next you're a tiny honey badger the size of your mommy's fist. One night, your mom wakes up to squeaks in the night; you've accidentally turned into a little bat and you can't turn back. You can barely use your echolocation, so you’re bumping into walls. Your mom can't help but laugh as she takes you to her room to put you to rest. The next morning, you're the same little old you, but you always seem to cause a ruckus in the night.

Half the house had chased you down once for not wanting to take a bath. You had turned into a cheetah cub just to dash away from them. Your little legs did not get you far, and Titus had picked you up by the scruff the second you were caught. But seeing that pool of bubbles and water, this had to be illegal! You let out little roars to scare Bruce away and nipped at Dick so he could put you down, but you barely had any big, sharp teeth, and your roar was just a really loud meow from their perspective.

You think you're a house cat when, in reality, you're just a very big tiger. You'll lounge on Jason's lap even though you're over 200 pounds, and you're particularly crushing him, but it's all worth it to snuggle with your big brother. Once, while Duke was doing homework in the living room, you laid completely on top of him and took a nap. He was on the floor for two hours straight, but he ended up sleeping because your purrs were like a lullaby.

Did you know that male lions will sometimes pretend to lose to their cubs to give their little babies an ego boost? Well, that's what Bruce does. You'll transform into a lion and jump on top of him from a very high place. He'll dramatically fall on his back and fake being wounded by your blow, even though it was just a paw slap in reality. But you'll get all sad if he stays on the ground for too long, and you'll whimper, licking at whatever small scratch you gave him, even though you did little to no damage. And you'll get fussy when he's laughing at you like nothing happened.

The Gotham press is on Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne ass! Why? Because every time he rolls up his sleeves, there are small scratches and marks on his arms, even when wearing a T-shirt. Some reporters think he's getting busy; others think he's been in a fistfight. Some say he's self-harming. When they finally ask him about the scars on his arms and legs, he answers, "Hyena," then leaves the reporters speechless. Well, he's not wrong; he has a little hyena at home who thinks it's so funny to use their older brother as a chew toy, even though they have their own toys. Even if you're just a pup, your roughhousing does nothing to him.

[rafeys-angel13]

subtle brat taming with jj

summary: ways jj subtly keeps you in line day to day

warnings: none

writers notes: uhh i can’t tell if i love or hate thisss

jj hates when you give him attitude, he always tells you that you’re the brattiest girl he’s ever met.

that doesn’t bother you one bit, you won’t admit it but you like when he tells you to tone down the attitude. it’s hot.

that little glare he gives you when you roll your eyes or say something rude gives you major butterflies.

one morning, he had woke you up to go to the beach. you really weren’t in the mood but you decided to go, for him. as you were walking there, he stops outside of a coffee shop.

“i’m gonna go get you a coffee, babe. i’ll be back in a sec.” he pats your butt and walks into the coffee shop.

once he comes back out, you’re leaning against the wall with a small pout on your face. he walks over and hands you the coffee with a kiss on the cheek.

“thanks…” you crack a small smile and lean into the kiss.

“no problem, cupcake. you definitely need it.” he taunts with a smirk as you start walking again. you scoff and roll your eyes, not in the mood to be teased.

jj snaps his head to look at you properly. he grabs your face and makes you look at him.

“don’t scoff at me, you little brat. i just bought you a coffee and you’re being rude to me?” his eyebrows furrow. “say sorry”

“i’m sorry… didn’t mean to..” you mumble and he nods, taking your hand again and continuing your walk.

-

there was another time when you were at a party. some girl shoved past you, hitting her shoulder against yours hard.

you turn to say something to her but you immediately feel jj pull you back into his chest and cover your mouth.

“you say something rude and we’re leaving.” he mutters in your ear. you pout and pull his hand off your mouth.

“she shoved me!” you defend.

“don’t care, i don’t want people thinking my girls a bitch. cuz you’re not..” he kisses your forehead and you rest your head against his chest, deciding to leave the girl alone.

-

you had been in the worst mood all day. snapping back at jj and rolling your eyes so much he was surprised they weren’t stuck in the back of your head.

when you get back home he immediately picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, helping you change into some pj’s and then helping you into bed.

he knew you were fully capable of doing all of it yourself but he knew you weren’t in the best of moods.

“i want you to take a nap now, baby…” he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. “you’re very grumpy and you keep rubbing your eyes…”

“i’m not tired…” you protest and roll your eyes for the millionth time today.

“yes you are, now stop being a brat. sleep” he rubs your nose bridge softly, watching as your eyes flutter shut.

“you’re so not fair…” you mumble before you drift off and he chuckles.

-

he can even sense a grumpy day coming as soon as you open your eyes. the little sleepy glare you give him every morning lets him know how grumpy you’re gonna be.

when he gently wakes you up and you glare at him straight away, he chuckles and nuzzles his nose into your neck.

“don’t give me that look, princess…”

dividers by @v6que + @strangergraphics

[blasphemyandbackshots]

before taking their final journey, they’re allowed a look into our world and see their impact…

— kento nanami, the reason someone stayed

He appears not in battle, nor on the edge of death, but in the hush of an early morning. That in-between hour when the world is still sleeping and the air feels sacred, like it’s holding its breath. There’s a glow from a laptop screen. A faint hum from a desk fan. Someone is sitting at their keyboard, wrapped in a worn hoodie, eyes red from tears that haven’t all dried yet.

Nanami lingers in the corner of the room. He doesn’t move at first, instead he watches. The screen is filled with him. Not in action. Not fighting. Not falling. But remembered.

There’s a small blog post, dated two days ago. The header reads, ‘Kento Nanami saved me. I was going through the worst week of my life. I couldn’t get out of bed. Everything felt like it was breaking. But then I rewatched that scene—you know the one. And I just… remembered him. How tired he was. How hard he kept trying. How much he wanted to believe it wasn’t all pointless. And I got up. Because if Nanami could keep going, so could I.’

Nanami’s brows lift slightly. He scrolls. More posts follow. Not loud. Not viral. But honest.

“He made me feel safe.”

“He was the kind of man I wish existed.”

“I think about how he carried all that weight, and I wish I could’ve told him he didn’t have to do it alone.”

“I light a candle for him sometimes. I know it’s silly, but it feels right.”

“He reminded me that even quiet people can be brave.”

There are art pieces too. Soft sketches of him drinking coffee in the morning, wearing sweaters, napping in sunlit chairs. Not as a soldier. Not as a martyr. Just a man, resting and being loved.

He sees someone’s journal entry from some time ago; ‘Kento Nanami made me feel like my exhaustion was valid. Like I didn’t have to be okay to still be worthy.’

He hadn’t expected this from the world beyond his own. There’s a foreign and yet familiar warmth blooming in his chest, like an old coat he thought he’d forgotten how to wear.

He looks at the screen one last time. “So I wasn’t just a man in a suit…” His voice is barely a whisper.

He turns from the desk, the early light catching on the edge of his face. His expression—so often flat, hardened by routine and war—is soft now. There’s a gentle smile there. Not forced. Not fleeting. The kind of smile that only comes when you realize you were seen. That you mattered.

“Thank you.” And then he steps into the light with his chest not feeling right and feeling free.

[anime-in-new-albion]

Be Prepared ~ Leona Kingscholar

Summary: Leona is sick and tired of constantly being the second. Now, he's ready to reclaim what should have been his in the first place. And he can't do it without you.

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar X G/N!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1645

Warning: overdramatic Leona

Masterlist

A/N: Inspired by Be Prepared from the Lion King

"Leona?" You call out to him in the botanical garden. If there was one place you were sure to always find the sleepy lion, it was the botanical garden. It was one of his favorite places to nap in, as it was perfectly warm and adequately shaded.

It didn't take you long to find him sleeping under a couple of palm trees, the fronds shading his face while the sun shone over his body to keep him warm. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, not like the grumpy lion you knew and cared about. You almost wanted to leave him to rest, but you had important information to give him.

Gently brushing some hair out of his face, you whispered to him. "Leona? I have something for you. It's very important."

He groans in his sleep. "If it's not a kiss, I don't want it."

You sigh and press a soft kiss to his forehead. "There. Now will you wake up or will I have to splash water on your face?"

He lets out another groan before slowly opening his eyes. "Come to nap with me, or are you just here to annoy me?"

You hold up a letter under his nose. "Ruggie said this came in for you. He says it's an urgent letter from your parents."

Leona scowls, baring his teeth, as he snatches the letter from you. Sitting up, he rips it open with his teeth and unfolds the letter. "This better be important."

As he reads you watch his already stormy demeanor get darker. His grip on the paper tightens and a low growl rumbles out of him. You bite your lip before placing a comforting hand on his bicep. He doesn't flinch but he doesn't acknowledge the gesture either.

"They have some nerve sending me this." He snaps, balling up the letter.

"What? What is it?"

"An invitation back to Sunset Savanna for a big celebration of my father's rule and my brother's future reign."

"Oh." Is all you can say. You know how he feels about his family and especially his role as the second prince. His parents saw him as spoiled and selfish, while his brother saw him as unambitious and awkward. You wouldn't wish that kind of familial misunderstanding on anyone, least of all Leona. So for them to basically invite him to a party that would rub it in his face that he's nothing special, you weren't surprised he wasn't taking it well.

Leona scowls and leans back, hurling the letter into a pool of water nearby to disintegrate. "This is stupid. Why should I have to make some big appearance just because I'm a member of that so-called family? They don't care about me! They're only doing it to save face or whatever."

You sigh and gently run your hand up and down his arm in a soothing manner. You had no idea how you could begin to console him. He was right, the whole situation was unfair. But you also knew he would face severe consequences if he didn't go.

"I know." You softly reply. "I get you don't want to go, but you should. If not for your parents and your brother, but for your nephew. Cheka will be so disappointed if his favorite uncle isn't there to see him!"

He scowls at you. "I'm his only uncle."

"All the more reason you're his favorite!"

As he rolls his eyes, he crosses his arms over his chest. "Still. I'm not going just for that pipsqueak. I'm not going, period. And there is nothing you or anyone else can say that will make me go."

Well, he was right. You didn't have any right to tell him what he should or shouldn't do. But you also knew that things would not go well for him if he ignored this invitation like he was so adamant on doing.

"So there's nothing I can say or do that would get you to change your mind?"

"Nothing?"

You give a small sigh. "Well, that's too bad. You could have shown your parents and your brother just how fine of a King you could be if you went. But I guess you don't want to do that."

His ears flicked with annoyance, but you could tell there was some genuine curiosity with the gesture. "What are you talking about?"

You shrug and lean back, letting your finger trace in the sand below you. "Well, you know, Kings are expected to do all kinds of things they don't want to do. And they're forced to talk and mingle with the people of their Kingdom. If you went and did all of that, showing everyone just how charming you can be when you put your mind to it, well, your family would have to seriously consider you as a contender for the throne, wouldn't they?"

Leona looks over at you with a small frown. He looks like he's trying very hard not to believe you, but you could see in his eyes he wanted to see how far you would go with this. "My parents have already decided the heir would be Farena. I have no contention in becoming the next King."

"Perhaps not." You shrug, keeping your gaze steady with his. "But even if you aren't being considered as a potential heir, maybe you could show them how good of a royal you are. Maybe not King but some other title where you could shine?"

Your suggestion has him sneering at you. "You really think that would work? I've tried every trick in the book and nothing has ever changed. It's only Farena and his greatness, and then it will be Cheka and his greatness. I am nothing and no one to them."

"But why not try? It's not like you have anything to lose, right?"

He scowls and turns away from you. "It won't work. They don't care about what I think. They don't care about my vision for Sunset Savanna if I were to ever have a chance to lead."

"What is your vision?"

Your question causes him to pause. He glances at you from over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing at you. "Why do you want to know? Why do you even care?"

You give a small shrug, moving closer to him and giving him a hopeful smile. "I care because you care. I want to know because it's as you said, no one else wants to know. So I want to know. To show you that at the very least one person cares."

Leona stares at you for a good long while before sighing. He leans back again, takes a moment, and then begins to speak. "Sunset Savanna has a food shortage problem. Many of our poorest citizens often go hungry. I've been devising a plan to give everyone a fair chance at food to sustain them. I've got programs in mind for children to receive access to free food. I have ideas to increase trade with other Kingdoms to increase our import of food. I want to make it so no one in the Sunset Savanna ever goes hungry again."

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops a little at his words. He really did have this all planned out. You were impressed. For someone who didn't seem like they cared all that much, he really did have the best interests of the Kingdom in mind.

"Why don't you share that with your family? You have wonderful ideas, Leona! Surely your brother can implement those ideas when he becomes King?"

He scoffs and turns away from you again. "They don't care."

"Have you tried?"

"No..."

You scowl at him and give his forehead a flick, earning a hiss from the grumpy lion. Before he can yell in response, you yell at him first. "That's your problem! You haven't told them! I get you've felt inferior your whole life being in Farena's shadow and all, and I know you think they won't listen to you. But the least you could do is try! And if they still don't listen, then there must be something we can do on our own to help!"

Leona pauses again, a look of shock crossing over his face. "What do you mean by we?"

"I mean you and me." You give him a bright, encouraging smile. "I want to help! I love your idea, Leona, and I want to help you put your plans into action!"

A different, warmer look passes in his eyes, one that almost looks like gratitude and admiration, before it cools into his usual indifference. "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not."

"You're being honest?"

"Yes."

"Swear on your life?"

"Cross my heart and everything." You make an X over your heart to further prove your point.

With a dramatic sigh, Leona throws his head back. "Why do I let you talk me into things? Fine. I'll go to the celebration."

You smile at him, and playfully punch his shoulder. "See? I knew you would come around."

He chuckles as he grabs your wrist. "On the condition that you come with me and help me present my ideas to my family."

You freeze at his words and feel all of the blood rush from your face. "A-are you sure you want me to go with you?"

"Didn't you just say you wanted to put my plans into action?" He raises an eyebrow at you. His gaze then drops down to his hand still around your wrist. "Besides, I want you to come with me."

You slightly hesitate before giving a small nod. "O-okay. Alright. I'll go with you."

Smiling, Leona presses a kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear. "I knew you would come around. I hope you're ready for what you got yourself into because it won't be easy. Be prepared."

[candybunnieholic]

Insomnia is one awful motherfucker of a bitch because I have been up since 6am in the morning and I couldn’t fall back asleep for many reasons due to the bright light shining through my curtains and my little brother have company over so it was hard to sleep with all of the loud noises anyway I’m a little bit grumpy as well.

[indiegame]

body let me sleep pls

[seventh-district]

.

[kingspuppet]

Also I had meant to say this yesterday, but thank you to those who read my 6 am extremely personal ramble post from the other day (or I guess it was yesterday but still). I honestly wasn't really expecting anyone to do that or interact with it in any way, and to be honest I was more than fine with that because I just wanted to clear my head before I tried to sleep. But the fact that ya'll did that even though you really didn't have to actually meant a lot to me. Just the silent support of the likes alone felt really encouraging and supportive, and I honestly can't thank you guys enough for that. Especially since cutting off a parent is never easy and probably one of the hardest things I'll ever do. I was already proud of myself for setting my boundaries, but it really did feel like solidifying that I did the right thing to protect my peace and that others were supportive of my decision. So seriously, thank you. 💙

[gutsby]

Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. It’s time you showed him what the real thing is like.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.

Note: ‘Just call me if anyone else checks in…and by anyone, I mean any swingin dick’ is a line from No Country for Old Men

Word count: 12.7k

Purple slime had been Sarah’s idea.

It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when she’d begged—‘Can we pleeeeease?!’—and who were you to tell her no?

You’d only be breaking one small rule of Joel’s, after all. One silly little admonition he’d made before leaving for work the first day you’d started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t even sounded that serious when he’d said it. He probably wouldn’t mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarah’s behest.

‘Don’t go in the computer room, please.’

Don’t use Joel’s desktop. Don’t rifle through any of the drawers in Joel’s office—it was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just don’t go in there.

But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, you’d promised to order her slime.

Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.

You weren’t sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadn’t been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.

It was just one rule.

Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, he’d be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.

Be quick, be quiet, it’s fine. It’s fine.

Purple goo—it was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.

What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?

You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.

Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.

P…

…ornhub.com

It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.

You couldn’t unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldn’t help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.

Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!

Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It

Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck

‘I’ve Never Done This!’ Babysitter Deepthroats Cock

“Oh…my gosh,” you said, words muffled by your palm.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.

The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didn’t relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasn’t the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time you’d been babysitting, you always thought you were just…invisible to Joel Miller.

Not this. Never this.

You were still staring at the screen when you realized that you’d missed one URL title from the list. It was long.

It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.

Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG Surprise—Her Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK

Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.

Something about this seemed familiar. Strangely…off.

You couldn’t explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadn’t even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.

It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.

The girl staring back from the scene was you.

Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.

It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, too—what you guessed wouldn’t be on her body for long—and you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgänger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.

You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millers’ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer camp—Joel had been so obliging.

So accommodating and sweet.

You never thought he’d be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.

“Hey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?”

The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.

You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.

You weren’t sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.

The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.

“Yes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?”

Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.

Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.

For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.

You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was needed—they just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.

Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, ‘More, daddy, more!’ this was all okay.

The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breast—and holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldn’t breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, ‘Attagirl.’

You’d heard your boss say that once.

It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, you’d struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once you’d narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, he’d laughed and rumbled: ‘Attagirl.’ Your face had warmed.

Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girl’s chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.

Before she’d even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gently—again, of their own volition, it seemed—toward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldn’t help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.

Silently, you wondered if Joel’s might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.

Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.

You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didn’t care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldn’t stop watching, or touching, until you’d had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.

Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girl’s throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the man’s cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your release…a door banged open downstairs.

You almost screamed.

As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.

Sweating.

Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.

“Long day?” you chirped while trying to mask the panic.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joel answered, voice wan, “How’s my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?”

Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.

“I put her down about an hour ago. She was great.”

You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.

“Perfect. Need me to give you a ride home?”

“No, no, you should stay here with Sar—”

“‘S’alright. Tommy’s right downstairs.”

Of course he’d brought him home.

“No, really, I can walk. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

Kiddo.

The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you ‘kiddo’?

You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him

You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.

Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time you’d climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: ‘Attagirl.’

Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldn’t stick again.

He had to stop.

It was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.

Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.

Sarah was at camp today. You’d had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? He’d told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.

Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.

Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairs—wearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all things—Joel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as he’d sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. He’d wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Was he really that much of a gooner he couldn’t let his kid’s babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?

Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.

He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.

Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.

If he couldn’t have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town would’ve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.

He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldn’t take long.

He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. He’d never forget it.

It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. You’d been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. You’d lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, you’d moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. You’d huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.

“Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!”

Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one you’d made. Joel repeated it.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he’d already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, can’t you see I’m practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!

Unfortunately, Joel’s head was turned the other direction—away from the screen, and toward the window—watching you where you sat out on the lawn.

He stroked harder. He groaned.

You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned they’d look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.

“Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.”

It wasn’t long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasure—the man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behave—and meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joel’s orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if you’d ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.

“Oh, daddy, it’s so big! Feels so good going inside me!”

“You love gettin’ fucked by an older man, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please don’t stop—oh, OHHH!”

Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.

If he wasn’t the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.

He could teach you so much, ruin you for any oth—

Shit.

What the fuck was this asshole doing here?

At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.

The man strolled across the lawn, and Joel’s orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.

No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.

Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joel’s way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be ‘lent’ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced to—he was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, he’d spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams

And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldn’t stand for that in any world.

Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive—he had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes ago—but now wasn’t the time for thinking. He had to act.

Protect, if he had to.

What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?

Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. You’d probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.

Joel decided he didn’t care, before plodding downstairs.

Outside, you lay in the same position he’d seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.

And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.

Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life might’ve depended on it. Scowling.

“—but getting cast in Gladiator II would’ve been wild—”

Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didn’t register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:

“Dieter! How’s it going?”

And he slowed down, too.

Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldn’t miss how his smile twitched down a little.

“Joel.”

Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.

“Doing alright, how ‘bout yourself?”

Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldn’t resist the chance to puff up and mention a school he’d been attending. Joel didn’t hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.

“Mr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,” you beamed.

Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.

“Dieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.”

Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.

“Germany, huh? What brings you here?”

No sense in beating around the bush.

Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.

Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.

“Oh, here. Yeah. I, um…I just wanted to see if you had that— that—” He snapped his fingers, “That leafblower.”

Leafblower?

He was so full of shit.

“My leafblower,” Joel repeated.

It was fucking July, for crying out loud.

Evidently, his neighbor didn’t seem to care. He met Joel’s gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.

He doubled down: “Yeah, the leafblower. I’ve had some debris pile up in my yard since I’ve been gone, y’know.”

“Are you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once you’ve had that casting call?” you asked.

You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle might’ve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.

“Oh, I’ll be here long enough, don’t you worry,” he said.

That was it.

Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarah’s pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joel’s. What do you think?”

You blinked a little quicker, like you weren’t quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.

“You don’t have any kids, Bravo,” he practically growled.

“I know. I’ve got cats, though,” Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. “And you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a man’s away.”

That was really all Joel could take. He didn’t even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.

“You and her can chat when she’s off the clock, how ‘bout that? Leafblower’s in the shed. Door’s unlocked.”

His words didn’t invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that he’d ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.

You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.

“He seemed like a funny gu—”

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

Joel’s words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, ‘What?’

“You know what. Don’t play innocent now,” Joel griped.

You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Don’t Mr. Miller me, either,” he snapped, far shorter than he’d ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, “You’re old enough to know better. You did all of that.”

“All of what?” you shot back.

“Attracted men like Dieter into my yard.”

“He’s your neighbor! What do you expect?”

Offense marred your tone. He didn’t entirely blame you.

“No, no—he never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.”

At that, your mouth fell open.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?”

“Language, young lady—”

“I don’t give a shit.” You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. “You invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?”

Joel blinked hard at that. He didn’t like being mocked.

“Still shouldn’t be that damn skimpy. And I said lang—”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Don’t act like you’re mine.”

Don’t act like you’re mine.

Joel’s chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself

He shouldn’t have gone there.

He shouldn’t have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.

And you weren’t shy to let him know it in the slightest.

Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if he’d had to guess.

“I watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you don’t want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But don’t blame me for him.”

Joel bristled at your words, though he wasn’t sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:

“And don’t blame me for that, either.”

Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.

Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.

Joel’s cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.

You’d just caught him. You’d seen his arousal.

And you were turning on your heels again.

Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.

Feeling stupid and inert beside you.

As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didn’t have a car, let him drive you back.

You didn’t even dignify his words with a verbal response.

You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.

And then the gate crashed shut behind you.

You would be walking home that day.

Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.

Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.

“Oh no, where’d sweet Sarah go?” you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where she’d just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.

Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.

A silly one at that—hide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldn’t figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.

“Whe-ere’s Sarah?” you sing-songed.

You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.

Your palm tapped right by those little feet.

And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadn’t quite mastered the art of being stealthy.

You’d cut her some slack. You always had.

Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.

“Is she…here?” You got a pillow.

“No!” Sarah shrieked back.

Such a helpful, obliging kid. She’d make a terrible spy.

“Is she…up here?” You rapped the headboard twice.

“No!!” she squealed.

You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldn’t keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic éclat, then started to walk away.

“Okay…I guess if Sarah’s not here I’ll have to leave…”

The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.

“No! No! I’m here! I’m here!”

You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.

“Sarah!”

And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.

“Your Sarah,” she corrected.

She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.

You nodded your head in agreement, “My Sarah. Sorry.”

She nodded too, like she’d just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.

“Stay,” she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.

“I will, baby. ‘Til your daddy gets back, I’ll be here.”

“I mean forever!” Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer you’d proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, “For-ever!”

If your daddy wasn’t such an ass, I might consider it.

Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.

“Then my family would miss me. I gotta see them.”

“Says who?” Sarah’s pout was unmistakable.

Before you could reply, she cut in again.

“You can be my family. My mommy.”

Your throat constricted at those words. You weren’t sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.

Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.

“I want you to be my mommy,” she told you quietly, “Then you’ll live here. With me and daddy. And you’ll never have to go home again and we can play all day!”

Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.

Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.

When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.

“Don’t you wanna be my mommy too?” she asked.

“‘Course I do, baby,” you answered without hesitation, “But…don’t you think your daddy should have a say too?”

Somehow, her face got even brighter.

“He will! He— he…”

Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didn’t understand what marriage meant. You’d help.

“Your daddy,” you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, “is a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Don’t you agree?”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, but—”

“And a mommy’s gotta be someone he really loves.”

“But he…”

She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.

“He is gonna find someone great someday. He’ll love you and her to bits, and y’all will get to play together all day.”

“But he loves you!” Sarah cried, at length.

A beat.

Your breath faltered.

The girl’s words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain

“Your daddy doesn’t love me, baby. I’m just his friend.”

“Yes, he does! He told me so himself!”

Again, you shook your head.

“You misunderstood him, sweetie.”

You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarah’s head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until she’d spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:

“Daddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.”

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenched—but not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didn’t have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didn’t love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.

But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didn’t cry herself to sleep thinking that you didn’t want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.

You lifted the covers back up from where they’d fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.

Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:

“I don’t know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.

“Anywhere,” she parroted back.

“Anywhere,” you said, again.

Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.

It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.

You couldn’t help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.

This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarah’s attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.

Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:

“Joel, we need to talk.”

It had been two years since he’d had a woman in here.

Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.

Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadn’t thought to hold it in:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He blinked.

Well, many things.

Joel wouldn’t have had the space to explain it all if you’d given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.

“I…I’m sorry.”

For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” you said. “Say sorry to Sarah.”

Sarah?

Before he could speak, you went on.

“You’re just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfish— how stupid could you possibly be?”

You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didn’t. This caught him off guard—his daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I’d be her mom, Joel!”

He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a line—really trying to fight the emotion behind it—and, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldn’t help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.

“Did— did she, uh…call you…mommy?” he said, pained.

“Yeah. And you let her believe she could,” you spat.

He hadn’t meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you weren’t around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, he’d just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, he’d just wanted to…pretend.

That was a running theme he had going with you.

Right now, you didn’t seem to care about that.

You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didn’t hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your age—the reality of you being his kid’s babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.

He wasn’t your father.

You weren’t Sarah’s mother, either.

You most certainly weren’t the girl on his computer screen, as much as he would’ve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.

That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.

You were visibly pissed and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is it really so bad if she says it?” he grit out.

Your eyes widened. You scoffed.

“Of course it is, Joel!”

You backed away.

He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitched—itched—at his side.

“Sarah’s young. She doesn’t…mean anything by it. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’ll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!” you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. “We’re not a family. I’m the goddamn babysitter, and— and— you’re Sarah’s father. Act like it, for Christ’s sake.”

That set his teeth on edge.

Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.

Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.

“Don’t tell me how to be a father.”

Something flared in your eyes.

“Why? I’m fucking right.”

“Language, young lady.”

That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.

“Yeah, well,” you started, accusing, “If we’re playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.”

“We are not playing hous—”

“But you want to, right? That’s why I’m always here.”

“No, I need a—”

“Maid? Mommy?”

You paced closer. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Obedient little housewife?” you sneered.

Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.

“C’mon, Mr. Miller,” you chided, voice low, “What is it?”

What he was, or what he’d stand to take. It wasn’t this.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, I’ll show you what.”

The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.

It was a reflex—something that had been stewing in his mind since the second you’d set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.

He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.

Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.

Joel had to fix it.

“That— that ain’t—” he began, already hating himself.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.

Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.

“Oh, I bet.”

You grinned, humorless.

You didn’t appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.

You pointed again. Joel didn’t need to look down.

“‘Don’t tell me how to be a father,’” you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.

Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.

It seemed you’d never let the latter slip past you.

“Is that what we’re gettin’ at here, Mr. Miller?” you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, “You showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you al—”

“No.”

Joel pushed off. He didn’t want to hear another thing.

He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.

When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.

“I’m just curious. Is that really what you meant?”

You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.

“Mean what? I didn’t…mean anything.”

His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.

Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.

“Just like you didn’t mean for Sarah to call me mommy?”

Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldn’t answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to be—decades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.

He was good at that, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.

“You wanna teach me, though. Don’t you, daddy?”

It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind—his memory—and the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldn’t have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you could’ve known what those lines meant to him.

‘Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.’

It made him ache.

Joel still wouldn’t move, but you could come to him.

He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.

This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.

He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.

And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric he’d seen far too many times on his computer screen and off it—on you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.

“Thought you didn’t wanna play mommy,” he growled.

If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.

“I don’t,” you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. “But you need to get this out of your system. Just once.”

Out of his system.

Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.

“Just once?” His voice cracked as he said it.

Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.

From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: ‘Once.’

The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.

And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else he’d seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.

This was his babysitter, his daughter’s companion, his—

“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he said when he first felt you there.

Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.

“Should I kiss you here, daddy?” Your mouth lowered.

“Right there, sweetie,” Joel breathed out.

He truly couldn’t believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.

And again. And again. And again.

You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.

The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.

“Baby, please—” he started, tone strained.

“What? Where does daddy want it?”

The question was so innocent.

It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.

“Let daddy show you,” he said, “Open your mouth.”

And you did.

Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.

No sight on a screen could’ve made him so hard.

He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.

“That alright, honey? Feel…nice goin’ in?”

“Yes, daddy,” you hummed obediently.

Your mouth opened wider.

“More, please?”

Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.

“Just like that, sweetie. Takin’ daddy so well.”

What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.

He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, ‘Faster now, atta girl’ and ‘Take daddy deeper’ and ‘Keep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.’ Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didn’t see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.

And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.

You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.

You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldn’t help it.

It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldn’t control—like his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. He’d scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.

Joel had never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.

“Is that how we ask to get fucked in this house?”

His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.

Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.

What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.

He’d lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. He’d tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. He’d tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. He’d take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and he’d kiss you again.

Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, ‘Daddy, please put it in.’ Your gaze was febrile as you did.

Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as you’d tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.

“Do you know what you and me are about to do, hm?”

His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.

Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?

These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldn’t fuck you if he wasn’t. He might feel lonely at times—desperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on it—but he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:

“Do you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?”

Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.

Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.

“Like this?” you murmured, words muffled against him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with his—Joel’s cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.

Except he wasn’t. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasn’t high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.

Now if he could just make sure she didn’t get a sibling…

Kidding.

“Pill,” Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, “Are— are you on the pill, or—”

Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I haven’t gotten laid in a year?

You grinned.

“IUD.”

That works, too.

Joel probably shouldn’t have seemed so eager. He probably shouldn’t have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his head—you didn’t want to know where it was. What he was thinking.

What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.

Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:

“Show me how you’d make me a mommy anyway.”

If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.

But this was all pretend, wasn’t it?

Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.

You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heat—he all but panted the words:

“Can daddy put it in?”

You spread your legs wider. You nodded.

Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot he’d only dreamed he’d ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.

Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.

Like you hadn’t just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: “He’s so big, daddy.”

Joel’s lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, “Ain’t that what mommy likes, though?”

Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.

The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasn’t a thought in Joel’s head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.

Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.

“Can mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?”

From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.

“Feels like a fucking dream, daddy,” you breathed.

Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.

Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!

Oh.

You couldn’t have known that.

There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.

Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:

“He’s so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.”

You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.

His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.

At his ear, whispering what he’d dreaded hearing most.

“You should really clear those PornHub searches after you’re done. Or at least lock your office while I’m here.”

Joel’s thrusts stopped completely.

He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.

Then his hips picked up; it wasn’t a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didn’t matter what you knew—your lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than he’d done before.

When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didn’t recognize his voice.

‘That so?’ was all it could manage to get out at present.

With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.

Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down

Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.

You looked perfect like this—better than any girl on camera could’ve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.

Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.

Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.

He didn’t think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:

“Wanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.”

The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.

“Yeah, Mr. Miller?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone.

You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joel’s grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.

You whined, and he mumbled against you, “That’s right.”

You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:

“Gonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippin’ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lov—”

He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldn’t say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.

And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.

“How much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.”

Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldn’t help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulity—you already knew what he felt, somehow.

“Sarah tell you that, too? That I love you?” he growled.

He’d said it once. At the time, he hadn’t thought he’d meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if he’d wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and he’d said he did. Looking back, it hadn’t felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.

Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixation—he needed to say it now.

“Daddy does love you,” he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, “Loves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?”

Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.

Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.

“I’ve never…had that,” you admitted quietly.

Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasn’t fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.

But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly

“Ain’t gotta be inside, then,” he murmured, assuring, “I’ll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?”

That made you whimper.

From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.

“Cum inside. I-I want it.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

“You sure, sugar? I can—”

Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.

“Cum. In. Me.”

It was the most decisive, and desperate, you’d sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.

With a look like that, Joel knew he couldn’t make you wait. He wouldn’t make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from below—he knew it wouldn’t take much.

“Mama goes first,” he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. “Cum for daddy now and he’ll give you his load, OK?”

Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.

“Daddy, I—” you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.

Joel circled faster.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t,” you cried, “Feels too—”

Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.

It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldn’t help but relish the sound. He smiled

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Give it to daddy.”

And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right here—in a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldn’t hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how you’d asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldn’t see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts

When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasn’t enough.

His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him before—what he should’ve said.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into your hair.

You just nuzzled your face deeper.

“Don’t be.”

“But I—”

Then you tilted your head—enough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.

“You’re a good dad, Joel.”

He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.

“And I don’t…mind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing won’t even matter.”

For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.

“No,” he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.

“No?”

You almost laughed.

It was insane, admittedly—just last night he’d been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.

You’d said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.

But for him, maybe, it wasn’t. He’d be remiss not to try.

If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.

With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.

A knock.

“Da-a-a-a-a-a-addy?”

Shit.

He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speech—or get a hand to the door

“Yeah, sweetie? Give— give daddy a—” ‘Fuck!’ he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, “—a minute. I’ll be right there. Just gimme a sec.”

Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you cold—again.

To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.

“Can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?”

You could’ve soundly beat Joel’s ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.

He didn’t blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.

“Mommy— mommy’s not here, honey. She went home.” Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikini’s bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.

He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:

I’m so, so sorry, baby.

But inside his head, he couldn’t help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.

“Yes, she is! I heard her,” Sarah huffed outside.

Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.

“Don’t be silly, Sar—”

“You’re having a sleepover!” she accused.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.

You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.

“Sleeping my ass—” you started in a whisper.

And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasn’t the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.

Admittedly, the timing was terrible—but he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bed—the same one drenched in sweat and your release, which he’d definitely need to change in a minute—and for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, I’m gonna kill you.

Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldn’t be ‘one-and-done’ here.

But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.

Joel didn’t want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughter’s voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.

All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.

“I heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?”

[navybrat817]

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. “Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[heartyluv]

cockwarming with caleb and zayne (separately) and they’re sleepy and clingy and won’t let you out of their sight 🫢 omg who said that…

Note: Righttt, like who said that.. 👀 But really, this was so fun, omg. I hope headcanons are okay. I just felt like all the ideas were flowing so easily like this. And I am so sorry if this is too freaked outtt LOLL!!! Thank you so much for the request, luvly!

Creds to @/enchanthings & @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Warning: I feel like cock warming being in this is enough for you guys to understand what’s going to be happening in here.

Caleb

ꨄ︎ Okay so for Caleb, I feel like he comes home after needing to be away for work. Your man is tired and jet lagged, and the first thing he wants to do after he washes the airport off of himself, is take a long nap with you.

ꨄ︎ And duhhh, you are climbing in that bed with him. You two fall asleep, but you wake up maybe an hour into it. He’s knocked out, even snoring a little. While being in his arms is where you’d want to be, you did have some chores to finish up before he got home. So you figure, why don’t I just get up and do them while he sleeps so he gets my undivided attention later?

ꨄ︎ So with the stealth of a ninja—an inexperienced one—you snake out of his hold. You wash dishes, prep for dinner, and you even take a shower. Like that’s how tired he is because I think Caleb would notice if you even twitched on a normal day, let alone sneaking out of the bed.

ꨄ︎ Then bam, another hour goes by, maybe an hour and a half. (I believe you wanted to get back into bed with him, but you didn’t want to wake your poor baby up.) Caleb isn’t necessarily awake, but you know those times where you wake up and you’re half aware for like a second? That’s what happens with him when he notices you’re gone. And he does not like that.

ꨄ︎ He’s like a lost puppy, getting out the bed, groggy, hair messy, and searching for you. It’s a quick search since he sees you as soon as he steps out the room. You’re in the living room, watching something on TV.

ꨄ︎ “Baby, you left me,” he says sleepily, eyes barely open. “Come back to bed. Please?”

ꨄ︎ And you think it’s all innocent, till you look over at him and he has a tent in his pantsss LOLLL. Like okay, it was completely innocent, but I firmly believe Caleb is always semi-hard around you. He actually can’t help it. It’s like his cock is always on go and just ready when you are.

ꨄ︎ He notices you staring and even when he looks like he needs to take his ass to bed, he can’t help but smirk. And don’t get him wrong, he wants to fuck you. But his body legitimately needs more rest, so he tells you what he’s thinking.

ꨄ︎ “Why don’t you come watch your show in the room with my cock inside you? Best of both worlds, don’t you think?”

ꨄ︎ Cock warming is y’all’s thingggg omg. So you make sure you’re quick to follow him. And Caleb doesn’t just want his dick inside of you, he wants skin to skin contact.

ꨄ︎ Now, I’m about to get freaky, so bare with me.

ꨄ︎ You both get undressed, you make sure you have the remote before you lay down, and Caleb’s strong body is right behind you.

ꨄ︎ “Go ahead and find what you were watching,” he kisses your neck. “Let me get you ready for me.”

ꨄ︎ Baby, you’re trying to just click on the damn app to open it but you’re struggling. And you wanna know why? BECAUSE WHILE YOU HOLD YOUR LEG UP, CALEB IS TEASING YOUR CLIT WITH THE TIP OF HIS COCK TO GET YOU WETTTT!!!!!

ꨄ︎ You keep squeezing and clenching around nothing, and the ache in between your thighs is making you dizzy. And mind you, HE’S DOING ALL OF THIS HALF SLEEP, SO IT’S SLOW AND LAZYYY.

ꨄ︎ “I’m about to slide in, okay?” He kisses your shoulder. “You have to stay with me. Don’t want to wake up and you’re not here, again.”

ꨄ︎ And guess what…? When his cock starts to fill you up and he’s a little more than halfway in… You… Have… An… ORGASM!!!!!! Shocked both him and you, but he wasn’t complaining, not one bit.

ꨄ︎ “Holy fuck… If my body wasn’t so tired…”

ꨄ︎ But you assure him it’s okay and he’s fully seated in your soaked cunt, his cock being warmed by your slick and comforted by your tightness.

ꨄ︎ He’s knocked out again shortly after, the sheets over your waists while you play your show on low volume. And you definitely feel him pulse inside of you. It’s comforting in a way.

ꨄ︎ Here’s your overall visual: You just came—unexpectedly—and Caleb’s cock is sitting inside of you. He’s sleeping with his face over your shoulder, his steady breathing in your ear. His big arms hold you so tight, you’re both fully naked, and his strong chest is against your back. And, his hand is on your boob, gently holding it like it’s a stress reliever LOLLLL. You already know, you’re not going anywhere for a good few hours.

Zayne

❄︎ Now for sweet Zayne, I think he’s coming home from the hospital and all he wants to do is be with you. You know those days where you just feel extra clingy for some reason? That’s what he’s feeling. I think between being sleepy and seeing you as his comfort makes his heart so full and warm.

❄︎ But, he frowns when he walks in and you’re not there. No music is playing, he doesn’t hear you humming, he just doesn’t see any sign of you. You’re always doing one of those things when he comes home, so he’s down that he doesn’t see any of it.

❄︎ When he went to text you, it came to him that you told him you were going out with a friend tonight for her birthday. But he smiles when he gets ready to put his phone away to see you had messaged him, telling him you’d be home in twenty minutes.

❄︎ He utilizes that time to do his nightly routine and when you walk through that door? Despite his tiredness, he is hands on.

❄︎ “You look nice,” he kisses your neck as he slides your purse off your shoulder, not even needing to look at the hook to hang it up. “I missed you.”

❄︎ Now, you can’t stop giggling at his ticklish kisses and grabby hands. But you see how tired he is and you’re just as tired from being out, so you know sex isn’t going to happen tonight. So, you suggest cock warming. I don’t think you’ve guys have done it before, honestly. I think you’ve had moments where he’d be sitting inside you for a little bit after having sex, but it’s never longer than a minute or two.

❄︎ “I’m willing to try it. If it lets me feel as close to you as possible, it will become my new favorite pastime.”

❄︎ Zayne doesn’t even want to be away from you while you get undressed. I even think he’s helping you LOLL. Helping you with your heels, sliding your dress off, and had he not showered before you got home, he would’ve been in there with you.

❄︎ But once all of that’s done, you know you have to help him get hard and with what he’s been expecting, he’s already halfway there.

❄︎ Zayne lovessss stimulation. He’s a whining mess when you start to stroke him in his pants, breathing heavily into your mouth as you kiss him tenderly. And the ways he’s talking.. GOOD GOD.. All the while, you’re getting soaked just by doing this. You didn’t even bother with putting panties on.

❄︎ “Is it normal to be so addicted to you? I don’t think I have it in me to be apart from you for any amount of time. Will you indulge me and my selfishness?”

❄︎ Once he lays in the bed, you climb in his lap while he holds his cock to guide himself into you. And it’s literally a breath of fresh air for him when your walls spread to accommodate him. AND WITH THE SLEEPY TONE OF HIS VOICE, IF YOU HAD IT IN YOU, YOU WOULD’VE JUST STARTING BOUNCING ON IT.

❄︎ “Oh, you’re so good to me,” he whispers when you gasp while his cock slides in. “I can’t believe I’ve deprived myself of something so intoxicating.”

❄︎ You actually have him shivering, that’s how good it is. It’s so tender, intimate, and he knows that if you’ll allow him, he’d prefer to be with you like this as much as possible.

❄︎ “Since it’s my day off, I intend to spend all day tomorrow, like this. Is that alright? Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

❄︎ Every gentle squeeze of your walls is like being welcomed home. And it’s not long till you both fall asleep like this. I just know every time you move even a little bit, he holds you tighter. He’s serious about not letting you go anywhere if he can help it. If he could cook dinner while you wrapped yourself around him, I’m so sure he’d do it LOLL.

❄︎ Between your weight on top of him and his cock seated in your pussy, the man is wrapped in the most luxurious cocoon. This was the closeness he was yearning for.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A little bit of jam [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!mutant!reader

wc: 2.5k

Marvel and I are so fucking back, baby!! I think this mass love hysteria toward Bob is the best, and I honestly wanted to play with the "found family" trope a little because I love it so much. I hope you like it!

and if u have any idea, let me know ;)

Two months had already passed.

Two months since the sky split in two, since the world almost went to hell—again—and since a dysfunctional group of dangerously competent people were thrust into the headlines as the new “heroes.” No one was sure if the title was too big or too accurate. The only clear thing was that, after surviving hell together, you had ended up sharing something more than a mission.

Now you lived in the old Avengers Tower. Together.

It wasn't an official government decision or part of any rehabilitation protocol. It just happened. Most of you didn't have a fixed place to return to, and the few who did... didn't want to return at all. So, without saying it out loud, you started staying. One night. Then a week. Then a sofa became a bed, a kitchen became a habit, and lights left on at all hours stopped seeming strange. Without seeking it, you had made it work. As if the disaster had woven an impossible routine between people who, otherwise, would never have shared more than one mission.

Nobody said it, but you knew it.

You finally, amid all that chaos, felt like you fit in somewhere. You weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t an X-Men, you were never officially from anywhere. You’d grown up far from anyone who could explain to you what to do about your mutation, and you’d spent more time evading labels than claiming them. But now… now you had a room with your name written on the door in permanent marker (thanks to Yelena), a mug for your coffee (which sometimes Alexei stole from you), and an old Bob sweatshirt that you’d sometimes find hanging on your desk chair for no reason; as if someone knew when you needed it more than you did.

So, little by little, you began to look more like a team, a real team. But also, in a way, you shared a certain familiarity that all of you definitely needed in your lives.

Weekends were occasions, without explicitly stating it, to spend time together. Sometimes you'd just gather in the living room, put on a movie, and the rest would join in, or someone would start drinking, and soon you were all doing it.

Speaking of which, that day you had decided that a few boxes of donuts wouldn't hurt you and your friends. Maybe you could even make some coffee, since with the rain that had started to fall in the city, that seemed like a good plan.

When you walked in, you could see most of them. Yelena was sitting on the floor, completely wrapped in a huge blanket, eating a bag of chips with her feet up on the coffee table. Ava was leaning against the wall, silently observing everything, her arms crossed and a neutral expression that didn't quite hide her curiosity. John Walker was flipping through a magazine upside down, clearly just pretending to read while he kept an eye on what you had brought. Alexei was snoring in the largest armchair, face up, a remote control resting on his chest, as if it were a sacred artifact. Bucky was leaning against the counter, probably making himself a drink or reviewing policy documents.

And Bob… Bob was probably in his room. You noticed he was sleeping a lot lately. Not because he was lazy, not because he was idle, but because he was carrying his own mind, his memories, The Void… exhausted him in ways the others could barely understand. So none of you blamed him for taking long naps.

“I brought donuts,” you announced, in case anyone hadn’t noticed the packages you were holding.

NO one refused the food, and even Alexei, who seemed to be asleep, got up to get a couple upon hearing your announcement. You'd bought a variety of flavors, a box of classics and some more sophisticated ones, so almost all of you sat down at the coffee table to enjoy.

You exchanged a few pleasantries, talked about things that had happened and possible future missions. At one point, when everyone had already eaten at least two pieces, you saw Walker's hand reach for the box of donuts.

Serious mistake.

“NO!” you screamed, almost like a spring.

John froze, his finger brushing the blackberry's glossy glaze.

“Why not?” he asked, offended, as if you had denied him the last glass of water on the planet.

“That one’s for Bob.”

“But Bob isn’t here.”

“But it’s for him!” you insisted, crossing your arms, as if that closed the case.

“There’s more!”

“But don’t eat that one. Eat anything else.”

“It’s my favorite!”

“Well, what a shame, there’s only one and it’s not yours.”

Suddenly, everyone seemed interested in the donut. It was a blackberry donut with vanilla glaze, a small work of art in dessert form. The fluffy, lightly browned dough was covered in a smooth, glossy glaze that smelled of natural vanilla extract, not the cheap, cloying imitation. Above the glaze, a purple swirl of homemade jam snaked like a miniature galaxy, with tiny pieces of blackberry peeking out here and there like barely revealed secrets.

“I saw it first,” he replied, his hand now closer to the box.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!”

By then, Ghost had already materialized behind John, her head peeking out from over his shoulder.

"What if I cut it into two equal parts? Half for each of you."

“I said no!” you shouted.

“Do it,” John concluded, lifting the box to give it to Ava.

Yelena, sitting on the couch, gave a curious look while she chewed her third donut with total shamelessness.

"Why don't we just hide it and see who finds it first? Like a stupid, grown-up version of a treasure hunt?"

“No one’s going to hide that donut. I already told you it’s Bob’s,” you complained, twisting around to shield the box with your body as if it were a nuclear device.

Alexei, sitting at the bar with a beer in his hand, licked his lips.

"I say the only fair solution is hand-to-hand combat. Whoever wins keeps it!"

“No!” you shouted, and Bucky joined in. However, your friends had a different opinion.

“I fight,” Ghost said.

“You didn’t even want it in the first place!”

“Me too,” Walker said, already taking off his jacket.

“I can eat it while you guys fight!” Yelena said, but you had already thrown a pillow at her with surgical precision.

The room became a chaotic choreography: Walker dodging Ava, Yelena climbing the back of the couch like a cat on sugar overload, you trying to put the box on top of the cupboard, Ghost dematerializing mid-leap.

From his position, Bucky watched you like an exhausted dad and issued a warning about not breaking any of the furniture. Alexei, at his side, was shouting to encourage the fight.

Peace only returned when a sleepy voice was heard from the hallway:

“Why are you shouting? What time is it?”

Bob peeked out, his hair a mess and his eyes still squinting from his nap. The chaos stopped. You all looked at him. And you held the box up in the air like it was a trophy.

“Take it away!”

"What?"

“Take it!” you practically ordered him.

The poor man stumbled over to you and snatched the box from you, hearing a collective sigh. You were relieved, the others were annoyed.

"What is this?"

“I bought you a donut,” you explained simply.

Then he frowned and opened the box. It was a little squashed, but the blackberry dessert was still in one piece.

Bob blinked.

“Were you all killing each other over a donut?”

Perhaps it was the incredulous tone of voice, or how ridiculous the situation sounded when said out loud, but suddenly all of you found yourself holding back a laugh. A few seconds later, laughter erupted.

“What a shitty team we are.”

“We can share it, if you want…”

"Yes!"

“No!” you shouted in unison. Bob flinched slightly at the tone of your voice. “Walker can choke on all that’s left, but that one’s for you.”

You said it in a way that left no room for argument and he smiled slightly.

“It’s my favorite.”

“That’s what I said!” John complained. However, he didn’t pursue the matter further and approached the others, taking two more donuts as a sign of resignation.

As quickly as chaos had appeared, it was gone.

Alexei occasionally expressed his approval of what had just happened, arguing that this kind of situation was an exercise in group bonding. You thought you heard Bucky call you idiots, but in a tone that made it clear he didn't mean it.

"Here"

Your murmur brought Bob out of his thoughts, and he smiled broadly when you placed a mug in his hand. It was a gift from Yelena and was inscribed with: Today is a good day. Very appropriate, in your opinion.

"Thanks”

“Two of milk and one of sugar,” you announced with satisfaction.

His happiness only increased when he realized that you were actually paying attention to him.

You plopped down next to him on the soft couch—most people's favorite when it came to a nap—and he shrank down to give you space, sitting in the lotus position as he always did.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. That day, he was wearing a thick, slightly baggy olive-green sweater with slightly long sleeves. The color had a muted hue, like moss or old pine, which brought out the sparkle in his eyes.

There was a white T-shirt underneath, barely visible at the neck. A pair of soft, dark gray sweatpants, the kind with drawstrings and deep pockets. And on his feet, a pair of dark socks with which he glided around the tower.

He didn't look scruffy, just comfortable.

“I got scared a little while ago. I thought something bad was happening.”

You let out a soft chuckle at his confession, feeling the tension in the air melt away.

“I’m sorry we woke you up.”

“Don’t worry. At least it wasn’t in vain,” he smiled reassuringly, taking a sip of his hot drink. The steam brushed his face before he opened the dessert box and looked at him with more than just hunger.

“How did you know this was my favorite?” he asked, surprised, as he carefully turned the box over in his hands.

“You told me.”

He looked up at you, clearly confused.

“Well… you didn’t tell me directly. I heard you muttering it in your sleep.”

“Do I talk in my sleep?”

“Apparently so. And you actually answer. Because when you said I'd give you a donut, I asked you what you were talking about… and you said you wanted this one.”

"How embarrassing.”

“It’s kinda cute, if you think about it.”

The rest of the group was absorbed in their conversations, muted laughter, and the occasional impromptu board game. Between you, the air felt more intimate, softer.

Bob took a bite of the donut. The slight crackle of the glaze broke with the sound of a deep sigh, as if something inside had loosened.

“When I was a good kid, my mom used to give me money to buy one of these,” his voice lowered slightly, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should share “It wasn’t all the time, of course. And sometimes we went together, on the… the better days, you know. I think everything seemed simpler back then.”

He was silent for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, maybe that’s why I mentioned it in my sleep.”

“Oh… I… had no idea.”

“But it's a good thing. I forgot how good it tastes” a soft, nostalgic smile spread across his face. “I always liked this flavor because it has just the right amount of sweetness, with a hint of sourness. “I feel like it’s very similar to what life is like.”

He was silent again for a second, fiddling with the napkin between his fingers.

“It’s probably not something you’re interested in, but…”

“Yes, I’m interested,” you quickly interrupted “Any story you want to tell us will interest us, Bob. There’s Alexei with all his anecdotes from his years in the service… we’ve never complained, even though he tells them over and over again.”

He laughed a little, brief but genuine.

“Do you want to try some?”

“But it’s yours”

“I'd like you to try it. It's something I want to share.”

You hesitated for only a second before accepting. You leaned closer and took a small bite from the side opposite the one he'd tried. The flavor was more intense than you expected: sweet, sour, and smooth all at the same time.

Bob watched you silently, as if observing your reactions was more important than the dessert itself. When your lips curved into a smile, he nodded, satisfied.

“It's delicious.”

“Um, you have a little bit of jam left…” he said softly, leaning slightly towards you. He raised a hand, hesitant, then pointed a finger at your lower lip “This way.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth. The air seemed to stop for a moment.

For a moment, just a moment, it seemed as if he was going to lean closer. That he was going to wipe the jam off with his lips instead of his hand.

His eyes searched yours. And then, he took a deep breath. He lowered his hand, barely brushing your chin with his fingertips, and pulled away with a shy smile.

"That's it."

You didn't say anything at first. The warmth was still there, floating in the air, unnamed.

“You should, uh, drink your coffee. Before it gets cold.”

Your friend nodded at your suggestion and after that you tried to shake the nervousness from your mind, ignoring the sting that still burned where he had touched you.

Minutes later, fatigue began to take its toll. The noise of the group became a distant murmur, almost like a lullaby in the background. Bob leaned back slightly on the couch, still holding his cup in one hand. Without thinking twice, you approached and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Do you mind if I stay like this for a while?” you asked quietly.

“No. Stay”

His words were gentle. There was something so serene about him that made you close your eyes. Your arm instinctively reached for his, wrapping it around him in a gesture that didn't ask for permission, only offered shelter.

Bob stayed still, careful with every movement, as if breathing deeply could bother you. He felt your weight against his side, your breathing slowing. The warmth of your body was unlike any blanket; it was human, alive.

He felt held, loved, in a way he hadn't known he needed so much.

The team was always affectionate toward him. Many patted him on the back, hugged him unexpectedly, or sat very close without question. But this… this was different. It wasn't a casual display of affection. It was something that asked him to stay. Something that said: you're safe here.

He looked at you once more. You were already asleep, your lips parted and your brow barely relaxed. And although the chair wasn't entirely comfortable, and the noise continued in the background, Bob didn't want to move.

Not that night.

[poguehearted77]

Baby Steps

Summary: You and Rafe are expecting your first child and decide to take a trip to the beach, not expecting to be joined by a guest with chubby cheeks and pull ups.

-some more domesticated rafe as per your request-

The golden hues of the late afternoon sun stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Rafe arrive. You smile at the feeling of the hot sand between your toes.

The waves lazily lap against the shore, creating a serene soundtrack to your special day. It was a beautiful day out, for sure. With the cooler gripped in one hand, with the umbrella on top, and the box containing a special mini cake in his other hand, Rafe is already in full preparation mode.

“Here, let me help with that,” you offer, but Rafe shakes his head, his grin both charming and determined. "You're already carrying something valuable, let me handle the rest, okay?" Rafe reassures you as he places the items down in a nice vacated space.

Far enough from the waves to not get wet, but close enough to still hear the water cracking against the sand at an amplified volume as the perfect white noise for you to do some beach reading. You glance down at your rounded belly, letting your left hand rest over the precious cargo he's referring to.

"I'm only four months, babe. I can still carry things. Just let me help you set up at least." You hold onto the muscle of his upper arm with a soft frown and he can't resist. An idea visibly dawned upon him. "Yeah, you know what." He props open the cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of water, "I need you to drink this, I don't want you to get too hot."

Your eyes roll and you take the bottle, about to ease yourself down onto the beach chair when Rafe is suddenly behind you, a guiding palm on your lower back to lighten your load as you sit down. "Rafe, you're joking, right? I know how to sit down by myself." You huff and he sees you're starting to get frustrated.

He crouches down to be near you, "Look, baby. I'm sorry, okay? It's all just so new to me and I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby especially not if I can help it." Your arms unfold, and your composure melts under his apologetic gaze.

How could you be mad at him? He was just so cute and excited to be a dad, he wanted to make sure you had the safest, most comfortable pregnancy possible, and he made sure of that at all times. He set up everything while you didn't lift a finger.

You'd even slipped into a light nap as he did so. Waking up under the shade of the beach umbrella and almost certain there was an extra layer of sunscreen on your arms that wasn't there before.

Your towels laid out on the sand in front of you where Rafe knelt, the cake now put away in the cooler as he organized the supplies in the first-aid kit he insisted on bringing along.

"Is this all you're gonna do all day?" You mumble, lifting up your sun hat a bit to see him better and he smiles. "Well, you fell asleep on me, so I was keeping myself busy." Taking that as your cue to stand, leaving your hat behind on the chair and untying the flowy coverup you'd been wearing.

"I'm up now, let's get in the water." He's right behind you as your heels kick up sand with your eager steps to the ocean. Your laughs blend harmoniously in the water. Playful splashes and stolen kisses fill your afternoon for the next hour until you're ready for lunch.

Now Rafe was lounging under the shade, sunglasses covering his sky-blue eyes as he relaxed on the chair. Meanwhile, you enjoyed the warm sun kissing your skin as you sat on the towel, preparing some sandwiches for you both to share.

That brings you to now, the two of you sitting on the sandy towels with satiated appetites and a pleased smile on your faces, enjoying each other's company. "You ready now?" Rafe proposes, referring to the mini cake in the cooler which had either a pink or blue filling. You shake your head.

"Not yet, I need more time." He laughs, "At this rate, you'll find out when the baby comes." He says casually and your brow arches, "Only me? Don't you mean the both of us?" His head shakes, "Uh uh, I'm eating that cake with or without you." He jokes and you swat at him, causing him to spill some water from the bottle he was sipping before putting it away.

His attention was stolen from you and focused on something behind you, before you could even turn your head, Rafe's reflexes are shown as his arms reach out for the tumbling toddler who'd tripped over the uneven terrain and it seems she'd been running at a pace faster than her chunky legs could keep up with.

"Woah! Hey there, pudding," The nickname rolls off Rafe's tongue so naturally you hardly even recognize it, she looks up at him from within his stronghold. "Hi!" She waves and Rafe smiles so big it warms your heart to see.

"Where are your parents?" He follows up but she busies herself with the chain around his neck, blabbering the words 'Dada' in the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.

Rafe's eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile as he looks at you, mouthing the words, "She's so cute" and you mouth back, "I know," "I wonder where her parents are." You say, checking the tag on her swim top for any signs of identification but nothing. The two of you stand, the toddler hanging off Rafe's side, having the time of her life with a cheeky smile.

The two of you paced the beach, up and down. "I know her parents are worried sick," You mutter, checking your phone for any services you can contact for a 'lost baby on the beach please help!'

"If they don't come back, do you think we can keep her?" Rafe inquires and you laugh, "It's probably every parent's nightmare to hear a stranger say that as you're holding their missing child." You say, stopping in your tracks and placing your hands on your back with a sigh, worn out from all the walking.

"Are you okay?" Rafe checks in and you nod, "Maybe we should just go back and wait? Her parents might be walking around too and we keep missing them." Rafe agrees and the three of you walk back to your place on the beach, each of you holding her hand as she had insisted on being put down.

You kept her busy once you returned to your spot, building sand castles and giving her some water and sunscreen to keep her hydrated and protected from the slowly setting sun.

"How old are you?" Rafe laughs at your attempts to have full conversations with who he assumes is a two-year-old, but your guess was three. "Me Ava." She says and your eyes widen. Your initial question remained unanswered but now you had other answers.

"Ava! Hi Ava!" You coo, tickling her tummy until she's a bundle of fits and giggles, completely oblivious to the longing look Rafe has on you. "Tummy!" She says, and you laugh, not sure what she's talking about until she places a hand on your belly. "Big tummy!" She repeats and Rafe can't help but stifle a laugh at her direct observation.

"That's right. There's a baby in here." You explain but her head tilts, lost. "Baby?" You gave the soft waves of her hair a gentle pat, admiring her innocence, "Yep, it's either a girl baby or a boy baby." To your surprise, she begins chanting for a 'boy baby'. "See, Ava gets it." Rafe teases, always taking the opportunity to talk about having the boy he so desperately begs you for as if you had any say in the matter.

"Hungry," She whines and that sends Rafe digging into the cooler for snacks. You let her decide which fruit she wanted but her eye had caught sight of the mini container of cake that had been taken out in order to find the other items.

"Looks like she knows what she wants," Rafe smiles and you think about it, "We can't give her sugar, Rafe. Here, do you want some watermelon?" Her focus now is on the juicy red fruit you presented to her on a plate.

She must be fond of it, slurping up the juices and making a mess of her top. Fortunately, it was later washed off with the salt water when Rafe insisted on playing with her after she'd digested her food.

The sun was slowly beginning to set and the three of you had been lounging around for the last thirty minutes or so, when Ava made a loud shriek, "Mama!" She yelled, hopping off the towel and into her mom's arms.

Ava's mom graces you with a tight hug and a desperate stream of never-ending apologies and gratitude. She congratulated you on the little one you were expecting, confident you'd be amazing parents. "Now, what do you say to the nice people who watched you, Ava?" Her mom prompts, with what you could imagine is a very secure hold on Ava's hand, ensuring she doesn't slip away again.

"Thank you!" She beams, showing off her tiny baby teeth and you feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The last two hours, though chaotic, gave you the reassurance you were looking for with the whole parenting thing.

You wave them goodbye and you take a deep breath, "I'm ready," You don't have to explain anything more and you're both walking back to your spot to cut the cake. Only to see a toddler-sized footprint in it that Ava must've caused as she got up, denting the container and the contents inside smushing against its confines.

Pink.

"Wait…" You say, in disbelief, kneeling down with Rafe doing the same. "Are we-" He says, eyes misting over and you call him out, "Hey, I thought you wanted a boy." He holds you close, "I thought so too, but I'm honestly just glad it's with you." He brings you in for a kiss on your forehead. She's so loved already and she doesn't even know it.

[from-izzy]

[00:35] | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

“And if I do?”

pairing » ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au

genre » very fluffy, falling asleep during studying and boyfriend san who is worried for you because you don't take the greatest care of yourself, (it really was supposed to be fluff all through the end) turns suggestive towards the last quarter of the story, reader is a bit playful, san is very in love with you, of course you are super in love with him too

word count; estimated reading time » 1032; ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » quite suggestive at the end, indeed...a suggestive sentence at the very end, san lifts the reader up, reader wears glasses, reader implied to be smaller than san, san restrains reader's hands, pet names (bubs, baby girl)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

my ateez debut! here it is @jaehunnyy !! i really wanted to post smth for your bday so please take this as a late bday present 😭 thanks for proofreading a bit of this one and finding the pictures for the banners 🥰 you saved me a bunch of tears fr 😀 have fun with the second one (even though it's the same...😭)

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to be staying up late at night and for San to find you draped over your books and worksheets when he gets home. In fact, it’s becoming such a usual occurrence that San is making it a habit to open the front door with such gentleness that the click of the door opening would be too loud for his liking. In reality, your study desk at your shared apartment is quite a distance from the entrance of the apartment, so if San wanted to, he could enter in the same way as if you were awake.

But he didn’t want to.

In the rare case that you decide to snooze off on the couch, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin your precious, peaceful sleeping time. Unfortunately for him, he would still be needing to do it one way or another if he ever finds you asleep on the couch or anywhere but your shared bed. The victorious smile from closing the front door quietly soon turns upside down, frowning at the sight of your head lying on your stack of handouts in the study room. The stack acted as your pillow, your arms around the rectangular pile. You look like you have been resting your body for some time now, given that San’s soft head pat didn’t faze you at all. With a slightly heavy sigh, San makes his way to the other side of the desk to get a better look at your face. He kneels on the floor, content with being more at eye level with you. 

He’s surprised to see that you must’ve been so exhausted that taking your glasses off might have been too much effort for you. The side frame completely rests on the paper, the nose pad of the glasses no longer resting properly on your nose. San hisses at how the hard plastic pushes against your nose, already imagining the pain when you wake up and realise tomorrow.

“Bubs,” he tests your consciousness with a whisper. “Your whole body is going to hurt when you wake up, you know?” Your breathing is still as even as before, and the no response from you deepens his frown. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to move you, okay?” 

San rises to his feet once again, grabbing the blanket drapped on your study desk that he has prepared. He’s told you multiple times to at least cover your body if you don’t plan to take a nap on the bed, but he should have known that when tiredness kicks in, all a person wants to do is to close their eyes. San spreads the light cotton across your back, kissing the side of your head and humming sweet melodies to avoid surprising you too much with his movement.

“San?” You slur sleepily, still unable to fully wake up. San clicks your desk light off and soon sees your content smile at his little gesture. “When did you get home?”

“Just a few seconds ago. When did you fall asleep?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” A raised eyebrow from your boyfriend is what prompts you to tell him the truth. “A little longer than that.”

San tuts disapprovingly, “You can’t keep slouching off on the table. It’s not good for your body. And this,” he takes your glasses off by the hinges, “it’s not comfortable for you.”

You hum at his loving lecture for you, beginning to straighten your back from the long nap. Truthfully, if San weren’t beside you right now, you would be sending complaints to your past self for dozing off at the table, your back cramping and sore. But Choi San knows you too well, and the creases between your eyebrows tell him everything.

“See?” He reprimands. 

You’re not given another chance to rebut when he swivels the chair around for you to face him. In a second, you’re in his arms, the back of your knee and back supported securely with his arms, and your shoulder pressed against his chest. San looks down at you, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead that you respond to by pressing yours along his jawline. Along the short walk to the adjacent room, you plant kisses all over his face, giggling at the way his cheeks grow red with every second. 

Just a few seconds before San would rest you gently on the mattress, you steal a kiss from his plump lips, arms wrapped around his nape and threading your fingers into the strands of his hair. San almost stumbles but soon regains balance when he registers the way you delicately take his lips. Along with the giggles and fabric rustling against each other in the small room, it’s not long until your head properly lays on a pillow. San doesn’t let you breathe after, climbing on top of your figure with his palms beside your head to support himself. His knees sink to the mattress beside your thighs, and you’re left breathless with the man before you. The remnants of his cologne are clearer now, and the proximity leaves you curling up a side of your lips.

Your boyfriend knows the meaning of your expression well from experience. “Don’t rile me up, baby girl…”

Just like he did a second ago, your eyebrow rises. Your pointer traces along the center of his exposed neck, feeling the gulp and his intense stare on you. You glide across his skin, tracing along his collarbones slowly, making sure that your touch lingers on his skin. When your finger slides down to the neckline of his fabric, it curls around his shirt to pull his tense expression closer to you. A quick touch of your lips is all you spare him before regaining eye contact with him.

“And if I do?”

Those words are enough for San to lose control, pulling the sheets to his palms as he fists them tightly. One hand leaves the bed, restraining both your wrists under his hold above your head. He dives closer to the crook of your neck, ragged breathing and warm breath against your skin.

“I’ll make sure you’ll sleep peacefully for days.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet

@haneul-and-clouds @jaehunnyy @mars101

[pbpressure]

capture | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff (reader sounds a little clingy but its cute), fingering (reader receiving), oral (paige receiving), some yearning, hair pulling, slight dom sub dynamics but nothing too serious. lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.3k (slight pwp, cmon act like you know me)

summary: paige and reader are out of the country but want to be inside each other LMAO

authors note: i don’t even know what to call this, i barely proofread it. i’ve honestly been having such a hard time writing but hopefully this suffices for now! munch madness i mean march madness is upon us hehe

enjoy! x

when paige told you that she booked you two a getaway for spring break you had no idea that it would be this luxurious.

the room alone was huge. windows covering an entire wall from ceiling to floor. most surfaces were covered in beautiful decor and the bed faced the humongous pool that sat just beyond the deck outside. it was perfect.

you couldn’t actually fuss about the cost or how hard it must’ve been to book because paige was quick to hush you with a kiss on your forehead and mutter how she’d always “do anything for you.”

the vacation honestly felt more like you both ran away. off of your phones for days, with the exception of checking in with family and taking numerous photos. although it wasn’t intentionally secretive that made it even more enjoyable.

the beach, which you had visited every day thus far due to its close proximity, was perfect. the area surrounding your villa nice and quiet as well. 

of course with the extra rest time that comes with a vacation you had encouraged paige to rest, that’s all you wanted for the both of you. but after the first two days you realized that even you could only nap so much. 

today after a little more exploring the amenities of your villa you did lay down together and close your eyes for a bit. when you open them again you don’t know how much time has passed, but paige was knocked out of course.

you had been awake for a good 20 minutes. in your defense you did try to close your eyes again but it was unsuccessful.

your body was draped over paige’s, one of her hands resting naturally on your thigh that was slung across her hips. her bicep flexed slightly as it was propping her head up on the pillow. you catch yourself silently chuckling when you realize you were just staring at her in awe.

it was all so domestic. from the sleeping position to the way that one of the only noises you could hear were little puffs of air from paige’s parted lips. if you could capture the feeling into one world it would be complete. or maybe absolute.

you’re aching at this point from craning your neck to gawk at paige and you honestly feel ridiculous for how long you’ve been laying like this.

with the urge to bask in the sun and swim a little you gently turn over, lifting paige’s arm from you. you slip out of bed, careful not to wake her and you quietly get changed and head outside. 

the wide window in the room gave her a clear view of the pool. hopefully she’d wake up, see you perched in a chair, and come join you.

her nap actually lasts way longer than you anticipated and you were getting antsy. you read your book until you couldn't anymore and switched your lying position too many times to count. it had already been about an hour and a half since you’d got up from the bed and paige was still asleep.

the sun was starting to set and you hoped she would get up soon, but alas the impatience was becoming a bit painful. 

you pick up your phone deciding to text paige and immediately open the camera. putting a slight pout in your lips you take a selfie, tits perky and in frame. then you flip the camera and angle your phone down to get your entire lower body and the pool in one picture. you take the photo, press send and quickly type up something to emphasize on the amount of notifications she’d get. 

*buzz* 1 attachment 

*buzz* p, can you nap faster? i’m…bored.

*buzz* 1 attachment 

of course paige was still on dnd so naturally you pressed the notify anyway button. sighing in contentment you decide to get up off your ass (hardly) and sit in the hot tub that was adjacent, waiting for your girlfriend.

your texts didn’t wake paige, she had already started tossing and turning a bit ago signaling the end of her nap.

however, when she did pick up the phone after realizing you were no longer lying beside her she felt her eyes go so wide that they could have bulged out of her head.

she looks at both the pictures you sent and exhales sharply, running a hand over her face in disbelief.

the blonde couldn’t help but glance outside, eyes instantly making contact with your bikini clad figure. she bit her lip as her eyes ran up and down your body.

your hair had gotten wet and began to cling to your chest and neck that was now glistening and catching a slight glow from the fluorescent lights in the hot tub. your lips were glossy, as always, and they were parted while you let out what looked like a sigh.

she lifts her phone from the bed swiping the camera icon at the bottom of the screen.

these photos were for her, but also to show you how good you really did look.

your head is slightly tilted to the side when she snaps the photo. you’re standing to adjust yourself so your hips come up to the surface of the water. she almost drools looking back at the way she had captured you before she presses the blue arrow in the text bar. 

getting up and changing out of her clothes and into her swimsuit she hurries outside. 

when you hear the sliding door your attention is on paige as she makes her way to the hot tub.

your eyes light up and you grin, pleased to see her awake. when you notice that she’s getting in the water, you have to force yourself not to stare.

her abdomen toned and flexing with each step she took. chest exposed and already showing a tan as a result of earlier time spent in the sun.

“so you missed me?” paige breaks the silence once she’s settled into the water across from you.

“don’t act shocked.” you scoff.

“oh, i’m not. it’s just…cute ‘s all.” she says, lifting her eyebrow a bit and stifling a giggle when she sees you roll your eyes.

“i sat out here for almost two hours while you slept, it got boring fast. plus i knew you’d want to watch the sunset so i hoped you’d wake up in time.”

paige’s heart swells at the confession. she had just been a threshold away from you asleep and still the only thing on your mind. it was never a secret between the two of you or to anyone else how obsessed you were with each other. but that didn’t mean it got old. 

“as great as it is to rest, i'm glad i woke up in time to catch the sunset,” paige starts. “and you in this…this bikini?”

“what do you mean? it is a bikini.” you contest, raising your own eyebrow now and anticipating how paige would admit that your bathing suit barely covering anything was causing her own skin to run hot.

her cheeks are beet red and she purses her lips together to stop herself from smiling like an idiot.

“you know exactly what i mean.” she mutters, voice suggestive. 

you do fully giggle this time, leaning your head back. when you’re done laughing you unintentionally press your entire body forward for a second when you rest your arms on the sides of the hot tub. 

you watch the blonde across from you lick her lips as her eyes travel straight to your tits, back up to your face, and then to your tits one last time before she opens her mouth once more.

“I loved the photos by the way. can’t say they compare to having you right here within my reach, but you look amazing.”

“thank you baby. wanna say it again and look me in the eyes this time?”

tonguing her cheek to hold in a laugh she shakes her head. partially because she was caught ogling and partially at how bratty you were being.

“i can show you better than i can tell you.”

“yeah?” you taunt, tilting your head.

“get over here.”

you practically pounce on her with how quickly you travel from your end of the water to her lap. she wastes no time grabbing your hips so you’re comfortably straddling her.

you let out a hiss when she presses your hips down, forcing you to sit on her completely. you had been riled up since she stepped outside, the friction on your clit from the material of your swim bottoms wasn’t helping.

paige brings a wet hand up to cradle your chin, turning your head to face her completely. she pulls you closer, not kissing you yet.

“you really are so gorgeous, you know that?” paige mutters, lips ghosting over yours.

“p, have you seen yourself? cmon now–“ 

“this isn’t about me, baby.” 

she stops you mid thought with a soft peck on the lips. although it’s feather light a smack sounds between you both at how quickly it happened.

you whine when she pulls back and you don’t miss how she smirks at your reaction.

“don’t be a brat.”

“okay, then kiss me.” you groan, bringing your arms above the water to wrap around her neck, closing the bit of distance that's between your lips.

it’s already warm in the water that’s ricocheting against the walls of the hot tub and your bodies, but the way that paige moans into your mouth when she kisses you back heats you up more.

for a while you’re just kissing like horny teenagers. it’s sloppy and wet and you pull away panting a little. 

you run your hands through paige’s hair and study her features before leaning in to kiss her again, stopping just barely before your lips meet. she closes her eyes in anticipation but opens them after she realizes you’re not gonna kiss her. 

“like i was saying,” you whisper, struggling to hold eye contact when you feel her breath hitch against your lips. 

“i could look at you all day.” you lean in, intending just to give her a peck like she did you earlier. but the moment your lips lock one of her hands is holding you by the back of the neck, it was firm but she knew you weren’t gonna pull away.

she parts your lips with her tongue and it’s your turn to moan into her mouth. you can’t help the grinding of your hips, rutting against her eager for your clit to make contact with part of her somehow. she takes note of this and takes her hand off of your neck, it disappears under the water quickly. 

she uses two fingers to push your bathing suit to the side, immediately pressing onto your clit. you pull back from the kiss to gasp, eyes heavy as you try to keep them open and on paige.

“just look? i mean, i’m flattered but there’s a lot that i’d rather do to you all day.” she trails off, now circling your clit with her fingers, watching your reaction intently.

“f-fuck, you know what i m-mean. i always want to look at you, kiss you, touch and feel you. i’m so in love with you baby. you’re so good to me.” you ramble, bucking your hips to signal that you wanted her fingers inside.

“yeah?” she was mocking you. “sure you’re not just saying that because you want something from me right now?” 

her voice was low and her eyes never left yours. hearing her say that while her hand was between your legs caused you to clench around nothing.

of course it wasn’t true, and you both knew it, before you could give her any attitude her middle and ring finger were thrusting into your cunt. 

“p, oh my god–“ you don’t even finish your sentence.

the ease in which the heel of her palm met your clit was almost embarrassing. it was like your pussy was made to take her fingers. 

your jaw goes slack, and you struggle to breathe out for a split second. since you were on top of her she was already prodding at the spongy spot you knew all too well, each thrust making you shudder and clench harder around her fingers.

“‘s so good, so deep!” you pant.

“i know pretty girl,” she pants, placing kisses your chest. her tongue is hot when it comes in contact with the same spots she pecked. she uses her free hand to move your hips until you get the idea and start riding her fingers, already close to your release from how long you'd waited to have her.

“keep it up, i can feel how close you are baby.” she says, voice muffled by the skin of your tits that she’s still burying her face in.

it doesn’t take long for your hips to begin to circle messily, your eyes are squeezed shut and your entire body is on fire. 

curling her fingers as they drilled into your hole, paige uses her thumb to fondle your clit. not letting up on her thrusts she leans forward to tongue your nipple through your bikini top and your head falls back as you let out a sound that mimics sob. you take in one sharp breath before letting out a moan that’s borderline pornographic. 

paige’s eyes are on you, watching your face and body contort with pleasure. her lips are parted, eyebrows furrowed, and she’s moaning occasionally too with the way your cunt was fluttering around her fingers. she was getting off on this just as much as you were.

“shit! p-please don’t stop, i’m so close.” you choke, hands gripping onto her shoulders like she had intentions to run away.

“you wanna cum for me?” she coos, once again in a mocking manner.

you attempt to nod but paige starts making a scissoring motion inside of you with her fingers and you’re already feeling static from head to toe. 

you do cum, literally into the palm of her hand. she can’t hide how badly she’s into this shit and you can feel her smiling against your skin as she kisses any part of you that her lips can reach, milking you through the rest of your high. 

when you’re starting to catch your breath you feel paige curl her fingers inside you again. 

choking on a mixture of a scream and a moan you have to reach down and hold her wrist to stop her from stimulating you more.

“p that’s enough, what about you?” you ask, already licking your lips at the thought of getting to have your way with her next.

“what about me?” she responds, placing another hot kiss on your neck and making zero effort to move from her current position: beneath you with her hand between your legs.

“i want to taste you. please?” you whisper the last part. it came out as more of a plea than you realized but you didn’t care. 

on wobbly legs you stand, pulling paige to her feet as well. 

she towers over you, bending down to kiss you again. you kiss back hungrily and place your hands on her hips and guide her to sit on the edge of the hot tub.

she parts her legs for you and you grip onto her thighs with gentle hands. looking up at her as you kneel and begin to pepper light kisses on her damp skin. her breathing gets harder the closer you get to where she wants to feel you the most.

“you were just begging to taste me, don’t tease me.” paige groans, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you. 

you place an open mouthed kiss on her clit through her swim bottoms and she shudders at the feeling. using two fingers you pull them to the side and kiss the same spot, this time skin to skin.

paige gasps, the hand that was on the back of your head threading through your hair for a better grip. 

you lift your other hand and use two fingers to part her lips. as slow as you can manage you lick sloppily from her clit to her hole and your eyes roll back into your head when you feel her gush into your mouth. 

“fuck!” paige whines, throwing her head back. 

you relax your jaw and stick your tongue out again, shaking your head from side to side, intentionally making a little extra noise to add to the crudeness of the act.

paige’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as she pants, simultaneously trying to watching you pleasure her. when you both lock eyes you moan and take her clit between your lips sucking on it messily. 

this sends her into a frenzy. 

although paige was never afraid to be vocal with you, this was possibly the loudest she had ever been during oral. you’re gloating mentally as you start literally making out with her cunt. 

it’s lewd and you love it, clearly she does too. you feel her thighs start to close around your head and when you force them apart you watch her throw her head back and reach up to play with her nipples.

“you’re doing so good for me baby, it’s almost like you were made for this.” paige groans, pulling on your hair a little harder than she had intended, almost cumming from the moan you let out against her.

“i was made for you.” you pull back and pant before lowering your head again and thrusting your tongue into her, using your thumb to circle her clit.

paige is a babbling mess and you can feel her start to thrash around slightly.

“f-fuck! i’m almost there.” she manages to spit out, a yelp following as her thighs start to shake.

it doesn't take much more and as soon as you can hear her you can taste her. she cums, hot and immediately coating your lips and chin. 

paige’s back is arched as she tries to close her legs around your head. you’re pussy drunk and have no intentions of pulling back despite the way that she’s nearly sobbing every time you flick her aching clit with your tongue. 

one final harsh tug at your hair causes you to pull away from her breathing heavily and with a groan. instantly she’s pulling you to your feet and against her body. 

when you’re face to face you’re obsessed with how fucked out paige looks. her lips pink and puffy, eyes glossed over, and hair a mess.

when she pulls you in your lips make contact and you smirk into the kiss at the thought of her being so eager to taste herself.

after a few more sloppy languid kisses you drop your head to her shoulder and she leans forward,

submerging you both into the warm water once again.

“that was so sexy.” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

“you need to wear this bikini anytime we are near a body of water, for the rest of this trip.” paige says, causing a giggle to bubble in your chest that pressed against hers.

“whatever you say, p.” you reply, tone singsong like.

your back hits the wall of the other side of the hot tub and paige wraps your legs around her waist and stands again.

reaching behind you towards your towel and other belongings you grab your phone, thinking of how much you wanted to capture this moment.

when the screen lights up and you see the last text you received your mouth opens in shock and you can’t help the way that your cheeks rise. you're grinning like an idiot.

2 attachments

i need that.

“paige!” you say, looking up from behind your phone to catch her already smiling back at you, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“i mean...i got it, didn’t i?”