#i have a shit load of work to do but i really should do laundry tonight as im apparently meeting friends tomorrow.

[matchawhippedcreamlatte]

tagged by the wonderful @softwarmlight​! <3333

tagging @breadgrl​ @mhtyr​ @sadspicychilli​ @candlesoul​ @diospyros​ and anyone else that would like to participate (only if you would like to)

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[robthegoodfellow]

Let's Hear It for the Boy

Praise Kink for Day 3 of @harringrovekinktober

(roommates, kink experimentation, billy is a good boy, nsfw)

Steve felt like a real asshole when Robin asked out of the blue one day, maybe a month after he and Billy became roommates, if Billy was paying part of his rent in labor. Shave some off if he agreed to be your housekeeper? And, at Steve’s incredulous bafflement, had clarified: Every time I’m over he’s cooking or doing laundry or—cleaning shit! To his horror, a highlight reel started up in his mind, a montage of Billy doing all those chores and more, and worse, Steve realized he’d contributed approximately nothing to the daily maintenance of their shared living space. Steve! Robin had scolded, correctly interpreting his guilty grimace. 

So he’d promised to talk to Billy about it—assure him that keeping the place sparkling was in no way required or expected or—or if that was just how he preferred to live, then he’d promise to do his fair share from now on. Only, bringing it up over pizza and beer, a basketball game on TV, had produced an unexpected reaction. Billy… kinda… froze? Went bug-eyed, like Steve had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. He looked embarrassed.

“Man, it’s fine,” Steve said, tripping over himself to explain—put him at ease. “I really don’t care either way. I just wanted to check and make sure you knew I wasn’t gonna, like—kick you out if you let up on the Cinderella routine.”

Billy flushed more, beet red, and Steve resisted smacking himself in the face. He was fucking this up so bad.

“I mean—”

“I don’t mind,” Billy mumbled, avoiding Steve’s eye as he reached for his beer. “I like it.”

“Okay,” Steve said, over the top encouraging. “Great. Well, I’ll at least pitch in more—”

“You don’t have to do that.” Billy’s throat worked, gulping, plush lips pursed on the can. Steve blinked, shook his head, tuned back in to catch the muttered aside, blue gaze locked on the Michelob commercial. “It’s all good. Nothing has to change.”

Why the hell was he being so weird about this? Did he think Steve couldn’t chip in? Pull his own weight?

“Just because I grew up with a nanny doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do stuff. Vacuum and dishes and—”

Billy grunted, annoyed, throwing his shoulders back to wedge himself into the couch, a mulish slouch. “Just drop it, will ya? I like things how they are, so what’s the fucking problem?”

“All right, jeez,” Steve cried, holding up his hands. “Touchy.”

They were quiet, both ticked, but the kind that would drain away by halftime. Except—he felt shitty just leaving it like this, having semi-acknowledged that Billy was acting like his maid.

“Is there anything I can do?” Steve asked, his tone deliberately mild, not looking away from the freethrow swishing on screen. “That you don’t like?”

No explosion—good sign. After a long, loaded pause, Billy sighed. “Take out the trash.”

“Got it,” Steve said. And let it go.

But from then on, he kept watch, determined to figure out the source of the weirdness. Almost positive it wasn’t a control freak thing or a neat freak thing—it wasn’t like the apartment was pristine. It was more that… everyday, Billy had done something obvious enough that Steve commented on it—always had. Nothing major, just Oh, hey—you got that stain out of the carpet or Holy shit, it smells so good—what is that? or How’d you unclog that drain? Wasn’t like he thanked Billy, though he probably should have been—although maybe Billy didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it?—but he’d always notice and say something admiring because Billy was good at stuff. Good at so much stuff.

He started taking out the trash, and Billy never let on that he noticed, but Steve thought he did. And he kept up the compliments whenever Billy did something nice, since that hadn’t been explicitly forbidden. But since he was paying more attention now, he—noticed some things. Only when he was pretending to look elsewhere, monitoring Billy in his periphery or in the reflection of the window or decorative mirrors his mom had foisted on him. He noticed that, those times, Billy sort of… ducked his head, hiding a grin that bordered on… bashful? And his shoulders bowed a bit, like he was—curling in on himself. Like—in delight?

Like—he secretly really liked it? When Steve noticed he’d done something nice? When Steve said something nice about it?

So… he decided to test it. Nothing too overbearing or obvious, just—instead of merely noticing, he was sure to compliment. Because why not, if Billy liked it and still wouldn’t let Steve lift a finger except on garbage day?

Good became his go-to. This tastes so good. That looks so good. Good, good, good.

Which is when it clicked for him—that Billy didn’t do chores and stuff because he liked the chores. But because… he liked Steve’s reaction?

And—that would explain his weirdness. Why he didn’t want to talk about it. Like maybe he was worried Steve would think Billy liked being his bitch or something—Steve winced, anticipating the whack from the Robin who lived in his head—not that Steve thought of him that way.

…Though if he didn’t mind Steve thinking of him that way—or even liked it, then…

Well, Steve didn’t—dislike that. Like the general concept. Held a certain—

Anyway, in the interest of further—ah, testing, Steve mentioned, casually, on his way to work one morning, “I’ve been craving that pasta salad you made.”

Billy cut him a glance over his coffee where he was hunched at the kitchen table. Grunted, and Steve quirked a grin, tossed him a salute goodbye. It wasn’t even a lie—the pasta thing—he’d been salivating at the memory. This version with Italian dressing instead of mayo, with olives and stuff. 

Lo, late that afternoon, when he got back, there was a big Tupperware of it in the fridge. Billy wandered in halfway through his second helping. They paused, wide-eyed at the sudden charge buzzing in the air, and Steve’s stomach clenched.

“It’s—good,” he managed, hands suddenly clammy around his fork and bowl. Billy was staring at Steve’s hands, held awkwardly aloft where he leaned on the counter. The stare was strangely heavy—hooded lids. Steve cleared his throat. “You—did good.”

Billy’s cheeks were as flushed as that day on the couch, watching basketball, insisting he liked—

Abruptly aware his boner was starting to tent his shorts, Steve turned to face the counter, ducking to shovel more pasta in his idiot mouth. Heard Billy go to the cabinet, fetch a glass. Fill it. Walk back out.

Heaving an unwinding breath, Steve set down the bowl, let his elbows bear the weight of this latest sexual awakening.

So that was a thing, apparently—and for Billy, too, potentially. Probably. Because, without quite meaning to, they fell into this little routine where, before Steve left for work, he’d pause, and Billy would look up from his coffee, and Steve would mention something—a rental movie he wanted to see, or a sale at the liquor store, or if Billy would mind throwing Steve’s whites in with his so he’d have a shirt to wear to this meeting later in the week…

And the VHS would be waiting on the counter. And a six-pack would be waiting in the fridge. And his shirt would be washed and ironed and waiting in his closet. And everytime Billy would be lingering nearby, not quite meeting his eyes, and Steve’s pulse would pound even though technically there was nothing sexy about an ironed shirt, and Steve would say Good. You did good.

Billy would sometimes clench his fist, when Steve said it. Or squirm in his seat a bit. Or swallow, throat bobbing. Color rising. And the sight hit Steve like a load of bricks. A load of bricks to the head.

It was the weirdest game of gay chicken—scrambling to find mundane tasks for Billy to complete for the prize of a pat on the back, when all Steve wanted, and he bet Billy felt similarly, was to order Billy to his knees.

He thought about it whenever they were on the couch watching TV, whenever they were eating in the kitchen or drinking on the balcony or passing each other outside the bathroom in the morning.

So he tested further. Came home and went to see if Billy had done it—and there he was, standing by Steve’s bed. The neatly made bed. 

Steve’s heart was rabbiting out of his chest, too on the fritz to form words, and his feet weren’t much better, charting a crooked, clumsy course until they were toe to toe, Billy’s gaze downcast, his lips parted, breaths shallow. 

He didn’t know whether it’d sound stupid if he said it out loud, what he’d been wanting to say for days—whether Billy wanted to hear, or would consider it a step too far.

They’d come this far, though. Steve wet his lips, took a calming breath, and Billy seemed to brace for it. “Good,” Steve said, and it came out breathy. “Good boy.”

Billy curled—did that thing where he ducked, hunching around something invisible—and the sound punched out of him, this pained gasp. Steve’s hands moved on their own, reaching to cradle Billy’s head, step close to whisper in his ear, his brow at Steve’s shoulder: “Good? Is this good?” Felt more than saw him nodding. “You want to be good for me?”

“Fuck,” Billy whispered—bit wheezing. Wet. “Fuck.”

“What do you want?” Steve asked, fumbling at his heated neck. “What do you—?”

“Be good.” It was mumbled, cringing. “Wanna be good.” A shaky inhale. “Make you feel good.”

Steve’s blood was roaring everywhere but his brain—would’ve fallen over if he weren’t clutching Billy. “Want that, too.”

He heard a thready laugh, and Billy straightened, leaning back into his hold, face tipped, lidded gaze on Steve’s chin. “So?”

So what’ll it be?

Buying himself time to gather his wits, some composure lest he combust, Steve tilted his head, assessing. Adjusting his hold, ran a thumb across Billy’s lower lip, firm enough to pull at the skin. “Want this.” Another swipe, exposing teeth, his curving tongue. “Make me feel good with this.”

A tug at his belt, and Billy was nodding, making short work of the button and zip—movements quick and precise. He sank, kneeling at Steve’s feet, tugging the pants to hang at midthigh, and finally looked up. 

Steve swept blond curls off his forehead. “Like you like this.”

Billy stared, eyes gleaming. Seemed to be—waiting.

“So good like this,” Steve corrected. “Now show me how good.”

Swaying, Billy buried his face in Steve’s briefs, nosing him through straining cotton, and huffed hot air at the crown. Steve compulsively gripped fistfuls of hair, still using Billy’s ears as handlebars, and resolved not to let go—to let Billy show him.

And, boy, did he. Laved at his dick until the fabric was soaked, the white gone translucent—white gone flushed pink, twitching under kitten licks—and Steve was on the verge of begging when a pull at his waistband freed his cock, bobbing only a sec before swallowed in Billy’s grip, fed into his greedy mouth.

Steve’s entire vocabulary had been reduced to one word, babbled at the ceiling behind closed lids: good, good, good, only sometimes it came out guh, guh, guh. One hand cupped the back of Billy’s head, and it was when his hips were on a steady grinding roll that he realized he’d caged Billy against him, locked the gulping heat around his cock as he plugged toward the peak.

Billy wasn’t struggling, though—his fingers biting into the meat of Steve’s ass, moaning so deep in his chest that Steve felt it more than heard it.

Steve grappled for a new word—close, close—but Billy didn’t stop, didn’t let up a second, and when Steve grunted his release, the throat worked around him still. 

The moment Billy pulled off, lungs heaving, face ruby red and shining, Steve flopped to his knees, blindly reached for Billy, draping loose arms around his neck, his ribs, waiting for his own breaths to slow.

“Was it,” Billy asked, tight. “Was it—?”

“Good,” Steve said, huffing a laugh, coasting hands across the bellows of his back. “So good—you’re so good. Always so good for me.”

Billy burrowed his face into Steve’s throat, his collarbone, looping him in an uncertain hug. He was hard, pressed against where Steve’s clothes gaped open. Working a hand between them, Steve rubbed his palm along rigid heat. 

“What do you want?” he asked, nuzzling the nest of blond. “Since you been so good?”

A shudder ran up the sloping spine. Steve smoothed his free hand down to Billy’s waist and back up, waiting.

“I—cleaned the shower,” Billy said, halting. “I could—show you, and—?”

Steve kissed his temple, quick, so helplessly fond. Overwhelmed.

“Good boy wants a wash?” Steve suggested, and tightened his arms when Billy tried to do his pillbug thing. “Be my good boy,” he said, hushed, nosing Billy’s flushed ear. “You want to?”

And Billy curled again, only this time around him. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

.

Now with added sequel: Let's Give the Boy a Hand

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Friday Fight Night

Chapter Four of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Five

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.4K

Chapter Overview: You help Benny and the guys get ready for FFN.

Notes: this chapter is just a bit shorter than what i usually like to post, but i didn't have a lot of time to write this week & i'm actually content with where i ended it ! sometimes u just have to stop a little short so u don't just start typing random shit to meet a bullshit word count u give urself u know? i updated the tag list so if i missed u PLZ LET ME KNOW & i will add u asap !! well as usual...my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Why is this so difficult? It's just like every other day at work, except for the fact that it's not. You have been standing in front of your closet for a good 10 minutes now just looking at your clothes. Suddenly nothing seems good enough to wear. Maybe something would be good enough if you knew how to dress for a fight. Should you wear workout gear? No, you weren’t the one fighting. Should you wear a tank top and a tennis skirt? Probably not if it gets as rowdy as Benny says it will. 

“Just pick a fucking outfit, you idiot.” You chastise. 

After yet another once over of your closet you pick out a worn, white t-shirt with an image of Speed Racer on it. It had definitely seen its glory days years ago when you were still in college. If it worked then, it should work now. You take it off its hanger, along with some jeans, and put it all on. You’re tying your shoes when your phone chimes next to you. 

???: Hey, we will be getting to the gym around closing time. Are you staying to help Benny set up? 

???: Oh, this is Frankie BTW

Seeing his name on your screen makes your chest tighten with excitement. You obviously gave him your number so he could text you, but now it feels so real. Something about Frankie texting ‘BTW’ makes you giggle to yourself as you sit on the floor.

You: Yes, I figured I would make myself useful. No point in going home since the fights start at 10:00 P.M. and I might lose my parking spot.

You have to set your phone down before you overthink the most basic text you have ever sent in your life. Just for good measure, you leave it on your bed while you go into the bathroom. Despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant about the whole situation, you find yourself putting on a little more makeup than usual. By the time you have wrapped up and returned to your room an unread text is waiting for you. 

Frankie: Good thinking. See you tonight then.

The rest of your morning has a bit more pep in it than before.

***

Your day at the gym passes by as usual. The only two exceptions were a truck load of last minute Friday Fight Night tickets sales and then compliments on how the gym was smelling. You made a mental note to smack Benny upside the head for throwing such a temper tantrum about it. In between customers you found yourself checking your phone more than you regularly do. You told yourself that it was just because you were excited about the fights and were counting down the minutes and not because you were hoping to receive another text from Frankie. Unfortunately, lying to yourself never really works out. 

In an effort to keep yourself occupied, you answer emails from people that are applying for a gym membership, make laps around the gym to see if you need to replace any of the wipes used to clean the machines, and collect all of the dirty towels for a load of laundry. Much to your dismay, these tasks don’t take very long to complete. By 3:30 P.M. you reluctantly slink back to the front desk where the single most unwanted guest is waiting. 

“There she is! My favorite receptionist! I’m still interested in knowing your name, darlin’.” 

“Good afternoon, Brunson.” You plop yourself down in your chair and pull up the schedule on the computer. “Just working out today? I don’t see that you’re with Benny.”

“You caught me. I want to make sure that I’m in good shape when I fight in a few weeks time.” 

For a few blissful seconds you allow yourself to indulge in the idea of Brunson getting clocked, hard, right in the jaw. 

“Well, enjoy yourself.” You scan his card quickly in an attempt to move him on his way.

“I always do so when you’re here.” He clicks his tongue at you while he walks past your desk. 

“God, he’s insufferable.” You mumble to yourself.

It’s 4:00 P.M. when Benny finally ventures up to the front lobby with you.

“Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day, man.”

“Because you haven’t,” He covers his face with his hands and whines into them before coming back up for air. “At first I couldn’t find where the white board I used to write out the fightin’ pairs was. Then there was somethin’ wrong with the beer delivery and they kept me out back for fuckin’ ever. That isn’t even coverin’ all the one on one sessions I've had today or the ones I’m still goin’ to have.”

It’s breaking your heart to see how stressed out he’s getting with all of the things he has to juggle today. You get out of your chair, walk over to him, and rub on his shoulder comfortingly. 

“It’s going to be alright, Benny. I’m staying after work to help you set up and Frankie told me that the guys are coming to help around closing too. You won't be in this alone for much longer.”

He places both of his hands on his hips and exhales deeply.

“Thank you,” You can see the earnestness in his eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

He smiles down at you from his 6’2 frame and before you can move he pulls you in for a deadly tight hug.

“Benny!” You can’t stop laughing. “Let me go this fucking instant!”

“Friends like hugs from other friends, right?” He yells over your incessant protesting. 

“I’m going to kill you, you know that?!” Your tone of voice doesn’t even sound remotely serious. 

Eventually you get him to unlatch himself from you so the two of you can finish up the work day in order to prepare for this evening.

***

You stand back proudly and admire all of your handiwork. Benny put you in charge of setting up the beer table, so set up the beer table you did. You designed a poster to hang on the wall above the table so people would be able to clearly see their options and their respective prices. You set a long, metal tub in the center of the table and filled it halfway with ice. Then you made a little arrangement out of the beer and poured the last half of the ice on it to keep it cold. The cash box was fully stocked and set to the side. All in all, you did a pretty good job. Thankfully, one of Benny’s regulars volunteered to work it this evening.

“All done over here!” You call over to Benny. “How’s the sign coming?”

You watch in horror as he stands up to reveal a barely legible fighting roster. He must have seen your face flounder when you looked at it because he just tosses the dry erase marker over to you and crosses his arms. 

“Oh, Benny I-”

“I know it looks bad. I’ve never had a knack for all this creative shit.”

You squeeze his hand as you pass him while heading to the white board. He slides over the roster that has been printed on paper for you to use as your guide. You’re so engrossed with your new task that you don’t notice when the guys come in around 8:30 P.M..

“You sure are givin’ Benny a run for his money this evenin’. The place hasn’t looked this put together in…well ever.” That sugary, sweet southern drawl could only belong to one man. 

“Thank you, Will!” You toss over your shoulder.

“Aw screw you, dude. Maybe it would have been if y’all had gotten here when y’all said you would.” Benny notes.

“Blame Fish.” Pope snickers. “He couldn’t find the perfect outfit.” 

That got your interest peaked. You turn around to look at what Frankie is wearing. Regular work boots, soft looking denim jeans, a black undershirt, a worn blue button up with the top few buttons left undone, and finally his cap- oh god he’s looking at you. If you had been a smarter woman, you would have noticed that two thirds of the group standing behind you were looking at your sign. That damned one third of the group was watching you trail your way up his whole body. He’s like an oak; completely unwavering as you take him in. 

“Well, I like it. ” You squeak out as you turn your attention back to the roster. “Now why don’t you guys go make yourselves useful and help Benny?”

You hear a unified ‘yes ma’am’ come from behind you followed by the scattering of three pairs of feet. There truly isn't anything more sexy than men who can follow orders.

All five of y’all work tirelessly for the next hour to get everything finished before the doors open to the public. When you cross off the last item on your to-do list, you decide that you have earned a drink. You sneak over to the beer table and open one of the coolers that you set up behind it that contains the excess bottles. Much to your dismay, the bottle caps don't twist off like you originally thought. You’re on your knees looking around in the extra bags and praying that Benny had the foresight to get a bottle opener when Frankie walks up next to you. 

“Lose something?”

“Just my dignity trying to locate the stupid fucking bottle opener.”

He laughs jovially as he extends his hand to help you up. You take it and sheepishly hand him your bottle when he motions for it. The two of you walk around to the front of the table and you watch as he easily takes out his keys and pops the cap open with a bottle opener he had attached to them. You notice that instead of tossing the cap in the trash he places it back in his pocket along with his keys. Right when he starts to hand the drink back to you he pulls it back towards him. 

“Hey! What gives?”

“I have to test it to make sure it isn’t poisonous or something.”

“Oh my god, you dick.” You lean back on the table behind you.

“You won’t be saying that when I save your life.” He takes a small sip and passes it over to you. “Nope. It’s not poison. You’re in the clear.”

Now it’s your turn. You turn to look out at the gym while you take a drink of your well deserved reward. 

“Wait,” You look over at Frankie. “What if it's a slow acting poison and now we are both infected? I guess you have to stay here and finish this with me so we can go out together.”

He leisurely reclines next to you on the table and takes the bottle in his hand when you offer it to him. “That's some pretty sound logic. I can’t argue with that.”

You try to stop yourself, but you watch as he brings the frosty glass to his pouty lips. They look more pink than usual against the dark color of the bottle. His hands make the beer bottle look so much smaller than it really is. Your eyes wander to that nose you’re so fond of. God, what would it feel like on your clit as he ate his fill of you? Now that you’re closer to him you’re able to see the gray that's intricately woven into his beard and hair. Would it tickle the inside of your thighs when he buried his face in your pussy? Feelings you haven’t had for a man in a long time rock through your body the further you sink into your fantasy. Drifting even further, his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the chilled liquid. You want to decorate the sensitive skin with blossoming purple marks. 

“What?” He’s looking at you now. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” You say almost breathlessly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hog it all.”

“I would never.” The low baritone of his voice reverberates through you. 

Benny, thankfully, yells from across the gym at the both of y’all before you do something questionable. 

“Hey, lazy asses! It’s showtime!”

You and Frankie both let out a breath neither of y’all realized you were holding. He looks down at his watch and then faces his friend with a mild look of annoyance.

“It’s 9:30, man. It’s just the boxers and the ring girls coming in right now.”

You notice that Frankie’s body immediately tenses up after he says this. Confused, you look over at Benny who has eyes as bright as the sun and is making a beeline towards you. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers down to you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Benny? What are you-?”

“I have a proposition for you.” He says while gripping both sides of your arms. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“I don’t think I have a choice by the look of things.”

“Please be my ring girl.” He gasps.

“Oh my god.” You let your head roll back. “Benny, are you serious right now?”

“Don’t say no yet. Just think about it before you decide.” 

You roll your head over to face Frankie and raise your eyebrows. You’re met with a shrug that is just as innocent as his grin.

“Does this offer have an expiration date?” You inquire shifting your focus back to the man that currently has you in a vice grip. 

“Just think about it.” He pleads.

“Fine, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say n-”

“La-la-la! I can’t hear you! La-la-la!”

“Don’t you have fighters to go hype up in the locker room?” Frankie cuts in.

“Nothin’ I hate more than when you’re right, Fish. Catch y’all in between the matches!”

With one final ‘think about it’, he bounds off into the locker rooms. All you can do is laugh hysterically at what just transpired. Frankie probably thinks you have lost your mind with the way you are doubled over right now. 

“Hey let us in on the joke, why don’t you?” Pope sits next to you on the table. 

“I could use a good laugh as well.” Will adds blithely.

“What you two could use is a reality check.” you walk around the table and grab a beer for each of them. “God, I can’t believe him.”

You hand Will and Pope their drinks completely forgetting about taking the tops off. Fortunately, that didn’t stop them. Will snatches Pope’s beer out of his hand and positions the bottles where one has its cap resting just barely on the edge of the other's cap. Then he slams them down on his knee and Pope’s opens with ease. After he hands the open one off, he pops his own with a thick ring he’s wearing. 

“I’m thoroughly impressed, Will. What the hell was that?”

“You just gotta learn to make due sometimes.” 

Frankie and Pope both mutter ‘show-off’ under their breaths as Will explains to you the physics behind his little trick. 

“Okay, now back to what Benny was talking about.” You adjust your stance so you can better face the group. “Are y’all in on this? This ‘ring girl’ shit?”

“Can’t say it wouldn’t be fun though.” Pope prods his finger at you. 

“Oh, yes I can.” You say swatting at him.

“You know, Benny. Once he sets his mind to somethin’ he’s pretty determined to see it through.”

“That doesn’t even begin to answer my question, Will.” You groan as you take the beer from Frankie’s hand. 

The movements between y’all are so natural, so fluid that it feels like something you have been doing for years. You see Pope, almost in shock, watch you as you take a drink.

“Can I get some of that?”

“No way, man.” You shelter the bottle against your body. “Three is a crowd and you literally have an open one in your hand.”

“Will’s right,” Frankie reasons with you. “Benny is as one track minded as they come.”

“Tell him to get on another track then.”

“How about this?” Pope counters. “You go into the locker room with Benny and see what it takes to be a ring girl. Then and only then will he accept your answer of ‘no’ if that’s still what you want.”

“If that will get him off my case then that's fine with me.” 

You start to turn towards the locker room doors when a blue sleeved arm reaches over your shoulder and plucks the beer from you. 

“Hey, give that back!”

“I just want to make sure you don’t hog it all.” Frankie’s tone is thick with sarcasm.

“I would never.” You grin.

Pope waits until you have cleared the locker room doors before he whacks Frankie in the shoulder. Unfortunately, Frankie doesn’t see it coming because he is too busy hoping to catch one more glimpse of you.

“If that's how you act around women you think are ‘just cool’ then I’m terrified to see how you act around women you actually like.”

“The fuck was that for? And the fuck are you talking about, man?” He massages the spot where Pope smacked him. 

“Will, please tell me you aren’t as blind as he is?”

“Sorry, Fish. I see it too.”

“See what?”

“That you look like a goddamn catfish whenever you look at her! Eyes all big and mouth agape.”

“I do not.” Frankie mutters. 

“Come on.” Pope folds his arms across his chest. “You think she’s cute.”

“What are we in middle school? You’re being ridiculous. Will?” 

“I’ll be honest, I wanna know too.” He flashes that signature boyish Miller smile.

All Frankie can do is laugh nervously while he removes his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows that he’s in the middle of a losing battle and that he’ll have to concede. They are going to be ecstatic that a woman other than Rochelle has caught his eye. Especially when it's a woman that meshes so naturally with their group. No, what’s stopping him is that a part of himself wants to keep it a secret. To have something that is just his. No prying eyes, no unwanted advice, no consequences, and no one else has to get hurt but him. As soon as the acknowledgement of his affection for you falls from his lips, it's real. As selfish as it sounds, he wants to keep you at arms length. He feels like everything he touches breaks and he doesn’t want you to become the next casualty. You wouldn’t want him if you knew the truth about the things he has done. But then you smile or laugh and he can feel himself falling deeper and deeper into his delusions of grandeur. 

“Well, if you don’t like her then maybe I’ll ask her out.”

“No, you won't because,” Frankie puts his cap back on. “I think she’s cute. Are y’all happy? I like her.”

“Atta boy, Fish!” Will cheers. 

“I knew it!” Pope says as he pulls Frankie in for a hug. “She’s a good one, man.”

“I know she is. I just don’t know if I’m going to do anything about it right now.”

Will’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Why’s that?” 

“I don’t want to fuck it up. To drag her into the shit show that is my life. I don’t even know if she feels the same way either!”

The two other men nod in understanding. Frankie takes a sip of the drink he stole from you and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling. 

“All I know is…is that I like her.”

“Shh!” 

“Pope, you were the one that wanted to talk about this!”

“Shut the fuck up! She's coming!”

“Y’all ready? I’m going to open the doors for everyone!”

The three of them use the time it takes you to unlock the doors and arrive back in order to regroup from their previous conversation.

“Did you,” Will clears his throat. “Did you like the view back there? See a future in being Benny’s ring girl?”

“I like the view from right here, thank you very much.” 

“So,” Pope rubs his hands together. “Who ready to see some dudes get the shit beat out of them?”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson }

[octuscle]

My boyfriend is cute, but he’s also so weak. I wish he was tougher, like his redneck brother.

Allow me to ask you why you are with your friend who is passionate about 19th century English poetry and baroque trumpet concertos. And not with his brother, who shoots cats and empty tin cans with a shotgun and claims to be a "monster truck mechanic". Okay, your boyfriend is gay, his brother isn't. That's a pretty good argument.

You lie together in your room, cuddle a bit, read and listen to music. Each with their own headphones. He Johann Sebastian Bach, you Taylor Swift. He reads Byron, you read a Superman comic book. He looks really cute lying on the bed. But a bit rougher, a bit more masculine… That would be cool…

Out of the blue, your boyfriend says he needs to take a shit. You are shocked. He's never expressed himself like that before. He's in the bathroom for a surprisingly long time. When he comes back, he has a copy of "Four Wheelers" under his arm. And he's turned the music up so loud that you can hear the bass from his headphones. What's he listening to, you ask. "The Cadillac Three" he answers. Never heard it, you think to yourself… He rolls himself a cigarette. And asks if you'd like one too. Neither of you has ever smoked before…

After you've spent most of the afternoon chilling without saying a word, your boyfriend says "Babe, when are you making dinner? A proper chili would be great, I'm hungry as a horse." You ask if he's gone completely mad now, you're not his cook and especially not his babe. He rolls over to you, unzips your pants and pulls them down. You start moaning in anticipation. He's about to suck you off. And he sucks like the devil. To your amazement, he pulls his pants down too. His boner pops out of his pants like a jack-in-the-box. He spits on his cock and slowly inserts it into your hole. And then he fucks you like a devil. You squeal with pleasure like a guinea pig. His huge uncut cock feels so great in your tight hole. He starts to quiver. And he fills you up with his load until his sperm drips out of your ass. You say that was the best sex of your life. He replies that he's really hungry now and needs a big portion of chili.

You've never cooked a chili in your life. You've never cooked anything at all. You usually go out to eat. You ask how a chili is cooked. He says that at least you have a tight ass. And takes two large cans of chili from the kitchen cupboard, puts them in a pot and gives you a slap on your ass. Where the hell did these cans come from? Your boyfriend says that he's watching a bit of football and that you should please serve the food in front of the TV. Well, he put it a bit more rustic. When you come into the living room with two bowls of steaming chili, he's lounging on the couch. His cowboy boots on the coffee table. His thumbs under the big belt buckle. And the hair on the back of his neck almost long enough to fall over his shoulder.

It annoys you a little that he doesn't really eat anything else apart from chili. Scrambled eggs with black beans maybe. He only drinks beer and coffee. He does fuck you two or three times a day, but he farts and sometimes he watches football on TV at the same time. Your favorite thing is when he has breakfast at the gas station. Then you get woken up with a fuck and then have a few hours of rest before you have to go to work. But you also need them to prepare lunch and dinner, clean and do the laundry. Your husband has expectations. And Babe has to fulfill them.

[maladaptive-day-dreams]

IM SORRY FOR THIS IN ADVANCE

But boyfriend or roomate!spencer who accidentally got into the habit of stealing your panties🫣

OKAY LOVE YA CEEBS, BYE-🍓

akj;dsg fkj;as this got a lil out of hand OOPS PLS ENJOY

Thief

perv!roomate!spencer x fem!reader, smut 18+, 1.7k words CW: masturbation, degrading, annoyed!spencer, oral (m-recieving), unprotected piv (don’t forget to wrap it up pls), he's kinda a dick at the end tbh

This is the third week in a row that you’ve had to go out and buy more panties. You have no idea where they’re disappearing to, maybe the washer is eating them? Or the dryer? At least that’s what your roommate, Spencer, said.

It makes a little sense, especially since your washer and dryer are old as shit.

But it’s really annoying.

“Spence! I’m back!” you say as you open the door to your shared apartment. “I grabbed us some snacks for movie night tonight.”

You don’t hear him acknowledge you coming home but you don’t think anything of it. Until you walk towards your room and notice it’s propped open slightly when you remember closed it before you left.

You step in and notice some dirty laundry that was definitely in your hamper is now on the floor.

Odd.

“Hey Spence? You’re here right? Did you go through my laundry?” you ask at his door.

You hear a grunt or two from Spencer’s room before he responds, “one sec, I’m cleaning my room real quick.”

You wait patiently until his door opens and he pops his head out, “what’s up?”

“Did you go through my laundry? My door was closed when I left and it looks like my hamper was gone through?”

“Oh yeah, sorry you borrowed a shirt from me last week remember? I need it for work tomorrow so I grabbed it from your hamper so I could put it in my laundry load earlier.”

“Oh right right, makes sense,” you laugh. “Is your stuff out of the wash? I gotta put one in too.”

“Yup it’s out, I finished that all an hour ago.”

“Ok great! Thanks, I’m gonna start that, when do you wanna do dinner and our movie?”

“How about an hour or two? Maybe once you’re done with your load, that way there’s no background noice for us.”

“Sounds good to me,” you smile.

Spencer smiles back at you and you turn to get your laundry started, his door closing again echos behind you as you walk back to your room down the hall. You put your headphones in and start on your laundry and chores, so you don’t notice the moaning and grunting happening in the other room.

What you do notice though, is your favorite pair of black lace panties not being in your basket like they should be. And the only person who had been in your room, and your hamper, since this morning was Spencer.

Before thinking about any kind of repercussions, you stop the washer and barge into Spencer’s room, taking off your headphones as you enter.

“Did you take my panties?” you accuse, but your voice falls when you see and hear him.

“Fuck, ah, yeah y/n, yeah,” Spencer moans as he fucks his hand. You’re silent, mouth agape as you take in his long, thick cock and his hand with a familiar piece of fabric wrapped around it. His eyes are closed when he addresses you, his hand never stopping it’s movements. “Don’t you know how to knock?” he spits out.

“I-“

His eyes meet your own, “are you going to stand there and watch or-?”

You spin around. “I-I’m sorry. I-“

A deep moan interrupts your thought.

“Are you not going to stop? Do you have no shame?”

“You’re—fuck—you’re the one who barged in on me,” he says, a groan punctuating his statement.

“You stole my panties!” you huff, crossing your arms angrily.

The slick sound of his lubed up hand on his cock is making you wet, you clench your thighs together as you think about how big he was.

“Are you going to leave?”

“No I-I want my panties back.”

“Suit yourself,” he replies, you can feel the words laced with a grin. Behind you, he pumps his cock a few more times before moaning out your name and cumming in his hand, all over your panties. His bed creaks as he gets up, and you hear his footsteps move towards you.

Spencer’s arm stretches out beside you and holds out your cum covered black panties.

You turn around and are met with a smirking, and pants-less, Spencer. “Well?“ he questions, still holding your soiled panties out to you. “You wanted to wash them right?”

“You’ve been stealing my panties?”

“Yeah.”

You wait for a minute, patient for an apology that doesn’t look like it’ll come. “Are you not gonna apologize? Really?”

“Nah, I’m not sorry about it, I am annoyed that I got caught. I really thought you’d be out for longer,” he laughs to himself.

“Seriously, Spence?! You’re such a perv!”

“You’re the one who came in to my room without knocking, y/n,” he spits. “Where are your manners huh?”

You look down but Spencer grabs your chin harshly with his free hand. “Do I need to teach you some manners?”

His cock rests between the two of you, semi-hard. You clench your thighs, mouth watering.

You want this. God you want this. You wanted this shortly after Spencer agreed to lease your second bedroom when your last roommate left.

So you nod, and Spencer smiles. The smile turning into a chuckle when he drops your chin and tosses your panties into his own hamper.

“Manners, manners, manners, where to begin,” he teases. “How about, doing what you’re told? On your knees.”

You slink down onto your knees in front of him, his cock at eye level to you now.

“Good girl,” he smiles down at you.

Your palms rest on the tops of your thighs as you look up at him from your position.

“You’re a fast learner, huh?” He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing a handful of hair and yanking your head down so your mouth drops open in a groan. “Say ah.”

You stick your tongue out and say ah as he grasps his cock with his free hand and taps it on your awaiting tongue.

“Suck.”

And you do. Your lips wrap around his tip, tongue circling the sensitive head and you moan at the salty, perfect taste of him. You take him deeper into your warm, wet mouth and his head falls back in a groan, the hand in your hair gripping tighter as you bob on his cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that y/n,” he moans looking down to watch as his cock disappears in and out of your mouth. Your eyes are watering and there’s drool dripping out of the corners of your mouth as you look up at him with fucked out eyes.

You keep sucking, your tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his dick as you pull back to breathe. Your mouth comes off his cock with a pop and a trail of spit connecting you to him.

“Good girl,” he smiles as he combs a hand through your hair. “Up.”

You move to stand in front of him.

“Pants and panties off.”

You unbutton and unzip your pants, and shimmy them and your panties down your legs. He holds a hand out and you pick up and place your panties in his palm.

What you don’t expect is for him to bring them up to your own lips.

“Open,” he smirks.

And of course, you do, and he stuffs your panties in your own mouth before grabbing your wrists and bringing you towards his bed. He moves behind you, bends you over the side of his bed, pushing you down by the back of your neck. He smacks your ass, before slipping a hand between your thighs. His fingers slip through your pussy, “so wet for me.” He chuckles. “How long have you wanted this?”

So long,you try to say through your stuffed mouth. A moan starts deep in your throat when his deft fingers meet your clit. He flicks the bud back and forth, your legs quivering at his ministrations. His unoccupied hand squeezes your ass while the other shifts from your clit to your entrance and he pushes two fingers in. Another muffled groan leaves your throat as he pumps his fingers in and out and in and out.

You try and close your legs when he removes his hand but he keeps them open with his free hand. The one coated in your arousal grips his cock and strokes a few times before his tip meets your hole and he pushes in, roughly. He trusts in to the hilt, his balls slapping against your clit when he bottoms out with a groan of your name.

One hand goes back to the back of your neck and keeps you pinned in pace while he frantically pistons into you at a rough pace. “Fuckin, taking me like such a good girl huh?”

Your yes is muffled again, but you clench around him as he continues to thrust into you, the coil in your stomach tightens with every tap of his mushroom tip against that perfect spot inside of you.

He pauses, his dick pulsing in your warm sheath as he grabs a pillow and pulls your waist up slightly to place it under your hips. The new angle is too much for you. You snap, trying to cave in on yourself as Spencer continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, y/n. So-tight,” he huffs. He reaches up to you and pulls your panties from your mouth. “Wanna hear you this time.”

Your moans and fucks are audible now and grow louder when his hand finds your clit and starts to rub tight circles into it. The sound of your wetness, skin slapping skin and your quick, hot whines are the only thing the two of you can hear.

Your second orgasm hits like a train, your legs trembling, your mouth hung open in a silent scream of his name. Spencer pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. He picks up the wet panties that were previously in your mouth and wraps them around his dick. He fucks his hand while watching your release trail down your legs. A few strokes and he’s coming undone over you, his warm cum painting your back.

“God, that was good,” he laughs walking to drop another pair of abused panties into his hamper. “‘You gonna make sure to knock next time?”

“Mhm,” you whine into his bedspread. 

“Good.”

You hear his footsteps leave his room and you hear the bathroom door close and the shower start, all while you still lay, bent over his bed, ass in the air, cum dripping out of your cunt.

[santoteez]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Five

Genre: Smut, sort of crack-ish?

Idol: Song Mingi of ATEEZ

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Roleplay, Stuck sex, MaintenanceMan!Mingi, CollegeStudent!Reader, Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

The soft humming of the dryer could be heard throughout the house as Y/N got started on another load. She dumped her darks-the largest load- into the washer. She reached for the detergent and fabric softener from the shelf above. She was preparing to pour the soap into its compartment when she noticed something shiny catching the light from inside the tumbler. She squinted before realizing it was a pair of her earring dangling from the rips on a pair of jeans.

“How did that get there?” She mumbled to herself, reaching for the piece of jewelry. The task was easier said than done, as the hoops were just out of reach. She tiptoed as far as she could go, letting out a noise of triumph as she held onto the earrings. She tried to lift herself out of the machine. Once, twice. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She turned her head, noticing that not only had her bracelet gotten caught in one of the holes in the tumbler, but her shirt was also bunched up in the groove of the machine.

She was stuck with no way out.

Panicking, she reached out for her phone which was on the counter next to the laundry basket. But due to her shirt being stuck, there was only so much she could lean over. She huffed in annoyance. Her roommate wouldn’t be back until late. Maybe she would come back…if Y/N could just reach that damn phone.

“God, I know we don’t have that great a relationship, but please just get me out of here. I’ll go back to church, I’ll even buy a new bible. Just please get me out of this.” She rambled.

Her impromptu prayer session was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Maintenance.” The deep voice called out.

Y/N’s face lit up. Maybe, just maybe, God had sent her help in the form of a six-foot-tall man with jet-black and blue hair.

“Mingi! There’s a key under the doormat. Can you let yourself in?” She shouted, hoping she was loud enough to be heard.

There was a silence, and just when she contemplated shouting a second time, she heard a key turn in the lock.

“You really got to find a better place to keep that spare, you know? The doormat is the first place someone would look. Especially since you don’t have one of those obviously fake houseplants.” He called out, setting the key on a table near the door. “Where are you, anyway?”

“In the laundry room!”

“...Well, can you come out? We have to talk about the leak in your kitchen.”

“Yeah, about that. Can you come here?”

“Why? Is there a leak there too? I’m starting to believe you poke holes in shit just to see me.”

“Mingi, I’m begging you. Just come here.”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming.” Mingi set his toolbox down near the entrance of the kitchen before making his way down the stairs.

Now, Mingi has seen many things in his time as a handyman. Toilets clogged with the unthinkable, fridge door dangling off the hinges, naked grannies, the works.

But none of that could prepare him for the sight that awaited him in the laundry room. He froze at the doorway as he took it all in: Y/N bent at the waist with her top half inside the washing machine, her ass peeking out of her barely-there lounge shorts, and her feet just barely grazing the tiling below.

Mingi knew he should say something before it became obvious he was gawking. He pleaded for his stupid brain to say something, anything.

“What are you doing?” He settled for that. Not the brightest thing he could’ve said, but it was something.

Y/N turned around, managing to see just enough of Mingi to confirm he was there. “Mingi! Thank God. Quick, help me out of here.” She squirmed, and Mingi took note of how her thighs jiggled from the action.

“Damn. No ‘please’?” He asked, crossing the threshold of this rather dangerous situation.

“Fine. Please help me out of here.”

He tsked. “You don’t really sound like you want my help.”

“Mingi, I’ve been stuck for the past 15 minutes. I just want out of here. My bracelet is stuck and so is my shirt. Please just help me.”

He walked around. Her shirt was indeed stuck and exposing more than he was sure she’d like him to see.

He wrapped his fingers around her bare torso, giving her an experimental tug toward him which changed nothing.

“If that would’ve worked, I would be free already, Mingi.”

“Keep up the sassy comments and I’ll go home.”

“No, no. I’m sorry.”

He sighed, his hand traveling up in an attempt to find where the shirt was bunched up.

He couldn’t quite find the snag, but the pads of his fingers definitely felt warm little nubs that hardened at the sudden touch.

He was ready to apologize. Ready to back off. Ready to just hand her some scissors and pay her back for the shirt. But then he heard it.

The moan that escaped her lips.

Despite praying to be taken out of the washer a few minutes ago, Y/N was now thanking the heavens she was still there. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she had to face Mingi after that. She hadn’t even realized it happened for the first few seconds. It was as if her body was acting on its own.

“Are you okay?” Mingi asked, the only statement running through his head that seemed appropriate at the moment.

“Y-yes. I’m fine.” She mumbled.

“I’m just asking you know, it seems like you’re pretty …sensitive-”

“Mingi.”

“Okay! Okay. Just didn’t expect such responsiveness from a light graze.”

“Well, it was unexpected. Plus, it’s been a while.” Her voice trailed off, but Mingi caught it.

“Really? How long?”

Y/N shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see her anyway. “Couple months? Almost a year, actually.”

Mingi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? I wouldn’t expect that from a college student.”

“What does that mean? And you act like you are so much older than college-age people.” She scoffed. They were only 3 years apart, and she was already a senior in college.

“I never went, though. I guess I just assumed.” He ran a finger up the back of her thigh, watching as she flinched at the contact. “Tell you what. I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “What are you proposing?”

“You haven’t fucked in a while. I can fuck you right now. Provide some relief to your sensitive body.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’m flattered, but I’d much rather you get me out of here.”

“Well, if that’s your choice I have to respect it. But I’ll have you know, in order to get that bracelet out of the machine I would probably have to cut into it, wait until you get a replacement tumbler, and put that into the machine. That’s not even considering the damage I’d have to do to get the shirt out.”

“...So how much would all that be?” She asked, gasping when she heard the unspeakable number. “Mingi! I can’t afford that!”

He chuckled. “ I know. You can barely afford to pay me. How much do you owe me so far?”

“I’m working on that balance.” She grumbled.

“You’d have to add today on top of that, too.”

She groaned.

“If you take me up on my offer, I’ll take today off the total.”

“Completely?”

“It’ll be as if I was never here. Plus, you get to cum. It’s a win-win.”

Y/N sighed. There wasn’t much she could do in her predicament anyway. “I thought God answered my prayers when you knocked on the door. But there’s no way God sent you anywhere.” She sighed. “You have to promise you’ll get me out of here once you’re done.”

Mingi snorted. “Maintenance Man’s Honor.” He said, pulling her shorts down.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt him slide her panties down her legs so gently, she almost didn’t believe that he had taken them off until she saw them fall into the washing machine along with the other clothes inside. Y/N stared dumbfoundedly at the panties she clearly put on this morning. This was really happening.

“Now, we can have some real fun.” Mingi mused, sinking to his knees.

She gasped when she felt his tongue slip past her wet (wet? When did she find time to get wet?) folds, his swift licks showing her no mercy.

“Ha, fuck.” She sighed, her voice muffled as she dangled from the top of the machine.

“Yeah? Feel good?”

“It feels so good. Your tongue is so long, it’s filling me up.”

Mingi smirked against her skin, sliding his tongue in deeper, tasting the arousal that oozed out and dribbled down his chin. He suckled on her clit, strong hands holding her legs apart when she threatened to slam them closed. He turned around, sitting between her legs, thrusting his tongue into her sweet cunt while his nose gave her clit the attention it deserved.

Y/N panted, her free hand gripping the edge of the machine opening, desperate to ground herself somehow as she fell deeper into delirium.

Mingi flipped back and forth from long, languid licks to her folds and swift, harsh sucks to her clit, finding it impossible to focus on just one task. He groaned as he collected drop after drop of her arousal on his tongue, his cock hardening at the taste. He chuckled at her pitiful attempts to grind against his tongue, chasing her orgasm.

“You wanna cum, baby? Grinding this pretty pussy on my face trying to cum? Go ‘head, cum for me.”

Y/N let out a whine that rang in Mingi’s ears like church bells at noon. Her arousal ran down his face, trailing down his neck.

“Mingi.” She whimpered when he didn’t stop licking her cunt. “Just fuck me already.

“Patience, baby.” Mingi stood up from the floor, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’ll take good care of you in just a minute.” He shrugged out of the top half of his uniform jumpsuit, pushing it and his boxers down just enough for his thick, veiny cock to spring out of its confinements.

He sighed as the bulbous tip of his cock slipped past her folds. “Hah, this pussy is unbelievable, baby. Pure heaven.” He smirked as his cock nestled inside her drenched walls.

“Mingi, hurry.” She muttered, clenching down on his length. She wasn’t sure if her head was spinning from the position she was stuck in, the need for friction, or both.

Grasping her left leg by the back of her knee, he pistoned his hips into her ass, his other hand gripping her waist.

Y/N squealed as his tip rubbed against her g-spot, his balls smacking against her clit only adding to the stimulation. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, barely aware of the drool pouring out of her agape mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted, baby? For me to fuck you stupid?”

“Yes! Please, Mingi. Don’t stop, keep going.” She babbled, his name falling from her lips as if her life depended on it. Her body slid down the machine slightly, her shirt rising up and her breasts now fully exposed, dangling inside the tumbler.

He angled his hips, his cock now hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “I’m not gonna last, baby. So you’ve gotta cum, okay?”

She nodded frantically. “I’m close, gonna cum. Cum inside me, please.”

Mingi’s pace slowed, his cum releasing inside her cunt in spurts. Y/N body shook, overwhelmed as her hole wept, both of their cum intertwined.

He marveled at the sight when he pulled out. “Look at that. That’s so hot.” He said, clearly out of breath.

“Okay, seriously. Get me out of here. I’ve had enough.”

Mingi laughed, reaching into the machine and unhooking her bracelet. He then yanked her shirt out as well, finally freeing her and helping her to her feet.

“How’s that for different?” He asked once she faced him.

She rolled her eyes, reaching up to peck his lips. “It was great, but I always prefer to see this face when I cum.”

Mingi hummed, stroking his chin. “True, I am a work of art after all. Maybe we can put a mirror in the machine before I fuck you next time?” He asked, wincing when she pinched him. “What? I’m serious!”

Y/N started to respond when she was interrupted by the dryer going off. They both turned to the beeping machine, its noises indicating the clothes were now dry and ready to fold.

“Just shut up and help me finish this laundry.” She said instead, handing him the detergent.

“Did you really have to do actual laundry? We were just roleplaying, you know.” He shoved his now flaccid cock back into his pants.

“We get to fuck and have clean clothes. Why wouldn’t I?” She asked.

“Guys! I’m home!”

“Laundry room!” Mingi called out.

The shorter woman headed down the stairs, smiling at the couple. “Hey! Laundry day?”

“You know how it is. “Y/N sighed.

The roommate nodded. “I think you spilled something on the floor, though. What is that?” She furrowed her brows.

Y/N met her gaze, freezing when she saw what had to be remnants of their lewd actions just a while ago.

Mingi peered down, then nudged Y/N’s arm. “What have I told you about spilling the fabric softener? Let me pour it from now on.” He pulled a tissue out of his uniform pocket, wiping up the mess.

“Oh, yeah. Mingi, how come you’re in uniform? Isn’t today your day off?” 

“I got an emergency call this morning. Then, I came back home and the washer was acting weird, so I tweaked it a little. Somehow, I got stuck helping someone with the laundry.” He turned to Y/N, who stuck her tongue out at him.

The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Be grateful you have a handyman boyfriend, Y/N. He’s always helping out around here. Well, let me know when you’re done! I have to tell you all about that guy from last night.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Can’t wait!” Y/N chimed, watching her head back up the stairs before letting out a deep breath. “You have a response for everything, don’t you?” She asked Mingi, who just smiled at her. “Well, thanks. I had no idea what I was gonna tell her.”

“I got your back, baby,” Mingi said, leaning in to kiss her.

Happy Ateez Anniversary <3

-pluto

[barely-coherent]

What Class 1-A smells like

A/N- It's here y'all

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ☆coming soon☆

YUGA AOYAMA

Smells, for lack of a better term, feminine

There's of course the smallest trace of cheese but we don't talk about that

We do not tolerate Aoyama Yuga slander in this household 😤

But he smells like really expensive feminine perfume

There's like floral scents along with this hint of almost sweetness?

MINA ASHIDO

Girl is spicy

Not too much

It's residual acid that adds the spiciness

But other than that

She smells like candy

You know the smell of strawberry taffy?

She smells like that

ASUI TSUYU

Ever been out by a lake at night with the crisp, cool air and you can't help but breathe in deeply?

That

She smells like nature

She reminds you of lazy days, sitting with your legs in the lake

TENYA IIDA

I'm not gonna lie to y'all

He smells like smoke and sweat

His engines are part of his body, naturally he's gonna smell like an engine

And that reciprocal burst?

That works up a SWEAT

He's very hygienic though

He showers often because he can't tarnish the Iida name by smelling bad

So you can always smell the exhaust but more often than not, you smell his soap too

He uses that dawn bar soap though

OCHAKO URARAKA

She smells like how bubbles make you feel

Just the simple euphoria that popping bubbles brings

She smells like that

That's just how she smells, I don't make the rules

MASHIRAO OJIRO

Mans smells like the "clean laundry" scent of deodorant

You can also smell hair gel

Cause you can tell his hair is PACKED DOWN

That shit is going NOWHERE

Wouldn't doubt if you told me his hair is just full of glue

I haven't seen a single strand out of place this whole damn series

DENKI KAMINARI

He smells... burnt?

Okay, probably not, but have you ever been electrocuted?

He smells like how that feels

If y'all haven't been electrocuted... I can't help you

If you have a taser you can like use it on yourself? For like 0.1 second and you'll get it

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

I love this man but you cannot deny that he uses axe body spray

Fortunately he doesn't use a shit load

He uses just as much as he needs and that's it

Thank fuck, am I right?

Once he was like "I should ask Todoroki to make a flame thrower!"

And Todoroki was like "No"

Shut him down immediately

KOJI KOUDA

VERY STRONGLY OF PINE WOOD

THERE I SAID IT 😤

He trains his quirk by being outside and talking to animals, of course he's gonna smell like he's outside

RIKIDO SATO

He smells sweet, like sugar

His quirk relies on baking and sugar, he's gotta smell at least a little like sugar

But it probably makes him smell like freshly baked pastries and such

MEZO SHOJI

I like to imagine he smells like sage and cinnamon

He just gives off sage and cinnamon vibes

I dunno what to tell you

Look at that man and tell me he doesn't smell like that

Try and tell me he doesn't smell earthy

Try and say he doesn't smell warm

KYOKA JIRO

Ever met that alt girl in your high-school class?

Everyone is scared of her but then she's the sweetest girl you've ever met?

You know the one

They all smell the same

I'm only saying this because every "alt baddie" I've ever met...

They know I'm neurodivergent

They know that I find comfort with aromatherapy

THEY ALL SMELL THE SAME BUT I DONT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT

HANTA SERO

I heavily subscribe to the latino Sero theory

He smells like traditional Spanish cooking

You can smell the saffron and paprika

Occasionally you get a whiff of cumin

He smells good, that's all I'm gonna say

FUNIKAGE TOKOYAMI

If I hear anyone say he doesn't smell like charcoal I'm gonna lose it

He gives off STRONG charcoal and mint vibes

I can't explain it, I just feel it in my soul

He smells like charcoal and mint and I stand by that

SHOTO TODOROKI

He also gives mint vibes

Maybe like mint and cinnamon?

Either way, it's a sharp scent

Who knows, maybe he uses mint body wash and cinnamon toothpaste

But either way he has a very sharp smell about him

TORU HAGAKURE

She smells like... nothing

I feel like she'd have to

Like, her quirk relies entirely on her being undetectable

If she smells strongly of something, people are bound to notice

Not very helpful if she's trying to sneak around

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

I'm about to say something basic

And I'm also about to get way too scientific

So he sweats the equivalent of nitroglycerin right?

Well, a fun fact about nitroglycerin...

It smells somewhere between caramel and burnt sugar

He smells like CARAMEL

BREAKING NEWS: BAKUGOU FUCKING KATSUKI SMELLS LIKE CARAMEL

Supposedly it also tastes like caramel

You're welcome Bakugou nation

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Let's be real, this man probably smells like baby powder

Baby powder or gym chalk

Probably a touch of something else that you would find in deodorant

Probably like the "fresh breeze" one or something

If there was like an All Might merch deodorant, he'd do that

He's such a fan boy hsjdjhdhd

MINORU MINETA

I don't wanna spend too much time on this

He smells like grapes

He also probably ordered that cologne that was like "it has pheromones in it!"

And then it didn't work for him

That's it

MOMO YAOYOROZU

She's got that brand name shit

But she probably smells like tea leaves

Like, she's lowkey a tea enthusiast

Remember when she made tea for the entirety of class 1A?

It's hard for me to imagine that was a one time thing

She has expensive perfume and smells subtly of tea

A queen

[rocknrollbabe14]

Rainbow in the Dark

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. ADULT THEMES HEAVILY DISCUSSED.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of bleeding, grief, loss, depressing behaviors, sexual situations, smut, sex (p in v sex), breeding kink? maybe? (depends how you look at it I guess but I intended it to be more like a husband just really wanting another baby with his wife because that's both of their end goals). If I forgot anything, let me know. 

Author's Note: This part one. There will be a part two to this. I am working on several different things right now so please bare with me and be patient. :) This is the start of a Dad!Joe series. I will be making a separate section on my master list. This follows my "Stuck With You" series which can be found on my master list :)

@josephs-quinns @kellysimagines

It had been one week past Amelia's third birthday. It was hard to believe your baby girl was three years old. To you and your husband, Joseph it felt like it had just been yesterday. You and Joe had been keeping a secret from your three-year-old daughter—you were pregnant again. You were ten weeks pregnant. You had begun to experience morning sickness—the first sign you were pregnant again. That was one of the first signs you were pregnant with Amelia.

Your last check-up was perfect—Baby Quinn was growing on schedule, and everything looked great. That's what your OB had said. At your daughter's third birthday party you had to sneak away every few hours—becoming nauseated at the slightest thing, especially certain food. You were living on saltines and water that particular day. Some were worse than others. His mom would come in the bathroom and check on you while Joe was busy trying to help with the party. Joe would make his way in the bathroom a few minutes after his mom, however, saying he was never too busy to check on you. 

You'd smile even after throwing your guts up, knowing Joseph was an amazing dad. You had picked an amazing man to be the father of your kids. Joe was super excited that you were pregnant again. You all had decided since Amelia was getting ready to turn three, it was a good time to start trying again. It didn't take long for you all to end up pregnant. Today, you felt super fatigued. No nausea or vomiting. You hadn't had those in a few days. Joseph was leaving to do an interview, stating he should be home fairly early.

You decided to start cleaning the house—Joe insisted on light housework. Only sweeping, laundry, dishes, and tidying up rooms. No mopping, vacuuming or lifting heavy things. He would do those for you. You had a load of laundry started, Amelia was down for a nap for the time being. You decided to close your eyes just for the length of her nap. 

Your eyes shot open at the sound of your alarm going off—Amelia's pediatrician recommended an hour nap now that she was three and would be starting preschool next fall. You raised off the couch, feeling a slight gush. Nothing major, but enough to cause concern to grow. It felt more like a period that you wouldn't be having right now. Your face crinkled in confusion, placing a hand on your stomach easily. You were cramping worse now.

Ascending the stairs, you made the first stop in the bathroom. Just to check everything. You were paranoid. You couldn't help it. You slid your sweatpants down easily, immediately seeing bright, red blood. 

"Oh shit.", you sighed easily. A sick feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. You gulped down your emotions quickly.

You had never bled like this with Amelia. A little spotting, but nothing in comparison. You quickly debated what course of action to take. Within seconds, you decided going to the emergency room was the best choice. You'd call Joe once you got there, not to worry him right at the second. You slid out of the bathroom easily, going to Amelia's room. She was still sleeping. You took a deep breath, trying to find Joe's mom and dad's number.

"Hello dear.", his mom sing-songed into the phone. 

"Hey, is there a chance you could watch Amelia for me?", your voice was shaky, on the brink of tears but you were choking those back. 

"Absolutely dear, is everything okay?"

You silently shook your head but realized she couldn't see you. You'd have to use words. "No, I'm bleeding."

His mom was silent on the other end of the line. "Oh—okay dear, are you home?"

You could tell the change in her voice. She was concerned, realizing this situation was serious. 

"Yes, Amelia's asleep but I'm gonna wake her up and I can bring her to your all's house.", you sighed, wondering what was going to happen. 

"Okay, sweetheart. Just don't rush. Do you want me to call Joseph? Are you sure you're okay to drive? Do we need to come and get you?"

"No—not yet. I'll be okay. I'm going to go to the emergency room and see what they say."

"We'll just come to you, dear. Just stay home and we'll be right there.", his mom insisted.

"Okay, thank you.", your voice broke, and you felt the tears coming.

"Alright, honey. We love you. We'll be right there."

"We love you.", you sighed, the tears finally sliding down your cheeks.

You quickly wiped them away with your long sleeves as you opened the door to Amelia's room, immediately putting on a brave face for her. She was starting to wake up, rubbing her eyes. 

"Hey baby.", you sniffled slightly, eyeing her.

"Hi, mommy."

You kissed her head, brushing through her shoulder-length curly hair. It was just like Joseph's. Identical. 

"Did you sleep good?", you asked her.

She nodded excitedly. 

You kissed her head again, hugging her. She looked up at you with her big brown eyes. You felt like you were looking at a small copy of Joseph. You may have carried her for nine months, but she was Joe made over. Even some of her mannerisms. 

"Listen, nan and grandad are coming to watch you for a little bit, okay?", you eyed her.

"Okay, mommy."

As curious as children usually are, you were glad she wasn't asking more questions. You sat there just watching her grab her teddy bear. The one she almost cried over—Joe caving and buying it for her. He couldn't stand to see her cry. When her lip trembled, he caved. Almost every time. She was his baby girl and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Ever since the day she was born.

"Do you want to come with mommy in her and daddy's room?", you asked her.

She nodded easily climbing off her bed as you both headed for your bedroom. You grabbed a few things just in case they decided to keep you. The photo of you and Joe with Amelia that was taken right after she was born caught your eye. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Eyeing your phone, you were timing how long you figured it would take Joseph's mom and dad to get to your house. 

Before you knew it, your doorbell rang and you perked up instantly. You and Amelia headed downstairs and you opened the door, revealing Joseph's parents. 

"Hey dear.", his mom smiled sympathetically before hugging you.

You exchanged hugs with both of them before Amelia popped out from around you.

"Nan! Grandad!", she smiled excitedly as she ran to them, her grandad picking her up and kissing her head. 

"Do you need one of us to drive you?", his mom asked you quietly as Joseph's dad took Amelia and went into the living room and tickled her, causing her giggles to fill the room. 

You shook your head. "I think I'll be okay."

"Dear, we just don't want anything to happen to you."

Part of you just wanted to be alone. You were beginning to instantly feel isolated, your emotions running wild inside of you. If something was going wrong with your pregnancy, you didn't much feel like having an audience. You loved Joseph's mom. She treated you like her daughter but you didn't want to cause her any more grief or pain in the process. If you were losing your baby, you just wanted Joe.

"I think I'll be okay. I don't feel dizzy or weak. I'll call you as soon as I make it to the hospital. Amelia wants to spend time with her nan."

His mom gave you a concerned, sympathetic glance. "Call us and let us know you made it. And if something else is happening, call Joseph. Please."

"I will.", you promised.

She hugged you again, you closing your eyes, listening to Amelia's giggles and her grandpa laughing with her. 

"We love you, Y/N."

Her words replayed in your head as you drove to the hospital, the cramps becoming increasingly worse. You winced as you turned off, the hospital fifteen minutes away. Those fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. The hospital finally came into view and you pulled in near the emergency room entrance. You locked the car, grabbing your purse and small bag before going inside. You registered at the desk, telling them your symptoms.

Even the registrar's expression appeared concerning. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach grew, realizing this probably wasn't going to end well. However, part of your mind wanted to remain positive. You waited in the waiting room for maybe three minutes before a nurse called you back. She took you to a private room, getting your vitals, height, and weight. She asked what brought you in today. You told her, describing your symptoms in detail. 

Her eyes widened as she asked, "How far along are you?"

"Ten weeks and three days.", you sighed, looking at the tiled floor. 

The nurse nodded. "I'll be back." 

She vanished. You called Joe's mom very quickly in the meantime, letting her know you had made it safely. It was five minutes before the doctor came in. 

"Mrs.Quinn, we are going to do some lab work if that's okay with you. When did your bleeding start? We are afraid you may be having a miscarriage.", the female doctor eyed you. 

Miscarriage. That word knocked the wind out of your sails, sucker-punching your gut. You didn't want to believe that. You didn't want to admit that it was happening to you.

"Yes, that's fine. And today. Just today.", you sighed, trying to ignore the last sentence. 

"Alright, we will be back, okay?"

You nodded, deciding it would be best to make the phone call to Joseph now. Your hands shook, tears threatening to fall as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it. You eyed your last ultrasound picture before moving to your call log, hitting Joseph's contact. It rang just three times before he picked up, startling you.

"Hey love, is everything okay?"

"Um you're not busy are you, Joe?", you sighed, your voice threatening to break.

"No, just finished up. What's wrong?"

He immediately sensed something was wrong in the sound of your voice. 

"Is Amelia okay?", he asked, quickly.

"She's fine but I'm at the hospital."

"What happened, baby?", he asked suddenly, worry and concern evident in his voice.

"Um,", your voice cracked, tears beginning to fall. "Well, they're getting ready to do some lab work. They're afraid—just can you come to the hospital, please? I need you.", you begged.

"I'll be right there. Where's Amelia?", he asked quickly and you heard him shuffling on the other end of the line.

"At home with your mom and dad."

You heard him unlocking the car and getting in, starting it. You choked tears back, not wanting him to worry and speed trying to get to the hospital. You sighed, just wanting to hide under a rock. You hated this. This was something you had never dreamed would happen to you. 

"I'll be there as soon as I can, baby. Just hold tight. I love you.", he said breathlessly.

You nodded, your voice breaking. "Okay, I love you too."

You clicked off your phone as the phlebotomist came in to draw those dreaded labs—the one that would test how much HCG was in your blood and would tell you whether you were losing your baby. Another part of you and Joseph. You watched your blood run into the tube, praying that your baby was alright and they could do something. They finished drawing your blood, and the phlebotomist slipping out of the room. 

Joe slid into the room. His brown eyes were wide with concern. His was face crinkled between concern and confusion. Silent at first, he slid over to you, taking a seat in the chair beside the stretcher. He silently grabbed your hand, a sigh finally escaping his lips.

"They think you're losing the baby, don't they?", he asked quietly.

His words sent a pang through your chest. Seeing Joe hurt was the icing on the cake—the thing that was finally going to do you in.

You nodded.

He closed his eyes, rubbing behind his ear. This was a coping mechanism for him to try and focus on something else. His face was blank, no emotion evident. You wanted to break down and cry right then and there. He opened his eyes, water filling them now. It killed you to see him like this. If you were losing your baby, that was hard. But this was also hard—watching the man you love crumble in front of you. 

He blinked several times to try and stop his tears from escaping. His face was growing flushed. You finally lost it, beginning to sob in your hands. You heard him begin sniffling, feeling his hand rub up and down your back, him kissing your head. You drew your hands away from your face. Joseph had tears in his eyes, one even sliding down his cheek. He took his free hand to wipe it away, keeping his eyes focused on you. 

Truth be told, he felt gutted. But he was more worried about you. He knew this would hurt you, and make you feel like less of a woman. He knew he had to hold it together for you. It was okay to show you he hurt, but now he'd have to reel himself back in. You all had a three year old at home who needed you both. She was your all's life. 

"I would have come immediately."

You looked up at him. "I didn't—I didn't want to worry you."

He smiled weakly as he wiped the tears sliding down your cheeks. "Baby, you have went through most of this alone. That kills me."

You sighed sadly. "It's okay. I just—did what I needed to do."

"It's not okay, I'm your husband. I want to be there for you."

He eyed your all's hands, admiring your wedding rings. You all said for better and for worse. This was worse. He placed soft kisses on your cheek, hoping to convey how much he loved you. There was absolutely no lust behind them. Joseph was one of the only things keeping you going right now. Amelia and Joseph. That's who you had to focus on. 

"Mrs.Quinn.", the doctor's voice finally spoke, her entering the small room, causing you and Joe to immediately look in her direction.

"I'm Dr. Thomas. We're going to order an ultrasound to be sure and send you to the OB unit for tonight. We've reviewed your labs in comparison to your last doctor's visit. Your levels have dropped. There's no easy way to say this, but this leads us to believe you are indeed having a miscarriage."

You and Joe immediately exchanged glances, sobs beginning to escape you as you leaned over into him, crying. Joe took his free hand, covering his own eyes and doing his best not to cry. You heard small sobs he was choking back. 

It finally clicked in your head—the cramps, the bright red, bleeding, nausea, and vomiting disappearing almost immediately. 

Dr. Thomas eyed you both sympathetically. "I can imagine this is very devastating news. We are going to go ahead and transfer you to the OB unit. They'll get you settled in and do further assessments. I'm so sorry.", she spoke, leaving the room to give you all time to process this loss.

It was no time before two OB nurses came to take you both to the OB unit. They took you via stretcher. Joseph held your hand the entire way. He made the phone call to his mom that they were keeping you overnight. 

"Hey mom, it's Joe. They're going to keep Y/N for the night. Yeah. Yes. Unfortunately, they think she's losing the baby.", his voice broke. "Tell Amelia we love her. Give her kisses from us. We love you too. Bye, mom."

You could only hear the one-sided conversation. Hearing him say it made you feel even worse—feeling like you failed as a mother. Your job was to keep your baby safe and you couldn't even do that. What kind of mom did Amelia have? The thoughts made you feel worse, slowly beginning to slip you into a depression. One it would take you a while to get out of. 

The nurses gently helped you over into a bed. They helped you into a gown and change clothes. You prayed Joe didn't see where you had been bleeding. But it was so bad, it bled through your sweatpants. He noticed but didn't say anything. They took your vitals again, asking you the same questions the nurse had in the ER. The story was the same. You felt a gush and went to the bathroom, noticing bright, red bleeding. They assured you the OB would be in shortly. Dr. Bennett who delivered Amelia and had been with you from the beginning.

Dr. Bennett came in, her expression was more somber than usual. She greeted you both before explaining she was going to perform the ultrasound to see if it was a complete miscarriage. She put the cold gel on your stomach. The situation was so different in comparison to just a few weeks ago. You both were so happy to see your second baby. Joe's face was filled with excitement like it was Christmas morning, causing you to giggle at him. He had kissed your head, telling you how Amelia was going to be so jealous of her brother or sister. 

Now, you both were anxiously waiting for her to say the word 'miscarriage'. Joe looked at you sympathetically as she began to run the transducer over your stomach, scanning your baby. It was still, not moving. Not bobbing about as it had been weeks earlier. A small whimper escaped your lips before you covered your face, beginning to cry again. You felt like you were losing a part of yourself. You were. It killed Joe to see you cry. He brushed his hand through your hair easily, before kissing your head, sniffling, and fighting his own tears back. 

"I'm so sorry but you are having a miscarriage. Some tissue is left so we will be giving you some medicine to help you pass it since your body is having some issues doing it on its own. I'm so sorry, dear.", she eyed you. 

Your all's worst fear was confirmed. She left to give you all some privacy. The world felt like it was crashing down on top of you all. You knew you needed to be thankful you all had Amelia but it didn't fix the fact that you'd never know who this baby would have been. Would it have been a boy or girl? Would it have acted like Joseph or you? Looked more like you or him? You'd never get to hold it in your arms, kiss its head, or rock it to sleep. It was a harsh reality to come to terms with.

The night was long, you or Joe barely sleeping. The medicine made you feel like you were in labor again but it was helping you pass your baby. Joe would go to the bathroom with you each time as you sobbed looking at the sight you left behind you. You all would stand in front of the mirror, him holding you in his arms as tight as he could, rocking you back and forth. 

It was the same he had done when you were struggling, in labor with Amelia. You were in a lot of pain, trying to decide if you wanted an epidural or not. At that point, you were still unsure. He would just rock you back and forth in his arms, your IV pole in tow, kissing your head and telling you how strong you were and how amazing it was what you were doing for him—for you both. However, right now, you felt anything but. You felt weak and broken. 

You were released the next day and told you had passed the majority at the hospital but if your bleeding was heavy and extended into another week to come back. Dr. Bennett wanted you back at the office in a week. Joseph's mom had brought some more clothes for you since the ones you wore in were soiled. You didn't need a more painful reminder right now. Joseph helped you put your clothes on, you wincing every time a cramp came. Joseph said you could go to bed when you got home. He'd get his parents to come back for your car.

Joseph held your discharge papers as they wheeled you down in a wheelchair. He had parked out front in anticipation for this moment. The last time you were wheeled out of this hospital, you had a baby in your arms. You had nothing this time. He opened the passenger door, careful to help you inside. You eased down, wincing and trying to keep from being weak and crying some more. The nurses and Joseph had seen enough of that in your opinion. 

Joseph thanked the nurses for everything before he went to the driver's side and climbed in. He eyed you carefully. He could see the pain in your eyes and on your face. 

"I love you.", he spoke softly.

"I love you too.", you turned to look out the window. 

You dreaded going home in a way. It felt bad to say but you dreaded having to put on a brave face for Amelia. You didn't know if you could. Everything was ripping apart at the seams. Before you knew it, you had arrived home. Joseph shut the car off and got out before coming over to help you out. You hated moving as it hurt extremely bad.

"I'm so sorry, love. I wish I could take the pain away."

"It's fine, Joe. I'll make it.", you whimpered easily as he helped you stand up. 

"I'm so sorry baby."

He helped you up the steps of your porch before he unlocked the door. You had missed the familiarity of home. Your favorite candle burning. It just smelled comforting. You heard Amelia and her grandpa playing which caused a small smile to spread across your lips. You stepped in first, sliding your shoes off, just ready to go to your all's room and go to bed. 

"Go on and lay down, love. I'll take care of everything down here.", Joe smiled softly.

You could tell this was hitting him hard too, but he had a better way of reeling himself back in as to not show his emotions so much. 

"Daddy?", Amelia called out loudly, instantly turning her attention from her grandparents. 

You gulped, knowing she would come running for Joseph. She knew his voice even though he was trying to be quiet. Joseph's parents watched as she ran to you both.

"Daddy! Mommy!", she squealed as she ran to you both, Joseph picking her up instantly. 

She kissed her daddy's cheek and it was the most adorable thing—the thing that usually made your ovaries ache. Now, it was making you ache differently. Trying not to ruin Joe and Amelia's moment, you turned away and held back tears. Joseph eyed you, noticing your silent pain.

"Daddy? Is mommy sad?"

Joseph looked back at Amelia. He was stunned and didn't know what to say. 

"Well, yes. Mommy just had something sad happen to her.", he answered honestly.

She reached for you. "Baby?", Joe asked easily, causing you to turn around.

"Mommy.", she reached her hands out. 

You couldn't help but come over to Joseph and allowed her to hug you while he held her. The doctor instructed you not to lift right now as it would make your bleeding worse. 

"I love you.", Amelia smiled.

"Mommy loves you, Amelia.", you eyed her, choking back tears. 

"Let's go play with nan and grandad, why don't we? Mommy needs to lay down and rest.", Joseph eyed her as he kissed her head again.

"Okay.", she agreed easily. 

Joseph kissed you before telling you he loved you and he'd be up to check on you shortly. You immediately heard his mom and dad greeting him and asking him if you were doing okay. Continuing up the stairs, you opened the door to your bedroom, instantly feeling fatigued. You closed the bedroom door, slid into your bed, covered up, and lay there in silence. You were finally alone and cried in solitude. Joseph had been very supportive but they said mothers grieve differently than fathers. 

This routine would go on for a couple of weeks before you finally found the strength and courage to get back to yourself. Joseph worried about you for two entire weeks. You barely ate and when you did, it wasn't a lot. You seemed very complacent. You weren't yourself but he understood. You both were suffering a loss. Somehow, he found strength in all of it and you admired him for that. That was one reason you married him in the first place. He always found the brighter side of things. 

He was keeping Amelia very occupied. You felt guilty, feeling like Joe was playing both roles for those couple of weeks. Joseph insisted he didn't mind. You felt as if you were failing Amelia in the process. You were letting a baby you didn't know cause you so much grief. Joe reminded you that it was your all's baby and it was okay to grieve. Dr. Bennett cleared you and recommended you wait a little while to try again just for your mental health. There was no certain reason you miscarried and Dr. Bennett assured you not to blame yourself. 

Joseph didn't push you to be intimate with him. Matter of fact, you worried you were growing apart. You knew sex wasn't everything but you hated lying in bed beside him and just sleeping all the time. Joseph sometimes fell asleep with Amelia after reading her a story. You tried to understand. But at times, it felt like he was rejecting you too. Every time of the month just reminded you that you lost your baby. You couldn't keep it safe no matter how hard you had tried.

Ten weeks had passed since you lost your baby. Joseph's mom and dad had agreed to keep Amelia for the evening so you and Joseph could go out to dinner. Dinner went fine and you felt as if you both reconnected after the tragedy you had faced. By the time you got back home, Joseph's mom and dad informed you Amelia was asleep. You all thanked them for watching her before you both went upstairs. Joseph sat on the bed, taking his shoes off before undoing his tie. 

Quiet was thick between you all. 

"Baby?", Joseph asked, turning to you. 

"Yes?", you asked.

This was it. This was the moment he was going to tell you it was over. He couldn't do this anymore. He had been too stressed out taking care of Amelia and doing everything. You had failed them both too.

"Can I ask you something?"

You nodded, feeling the sick, anxious feeling rise in your stomach. 

"Do you think maybe—we could try again?", he asked, unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway, revealing his chest. "Do you feel ready?"

You looked down at your bed. "I couldn't keep the baby safe."

Joe sighed easily before taking you in his arms. "Baby, it's nothing you did wrong."

"I've been such a shitty mother lately. I've let you and Amelia down. What makes you think I'll be a good mom to another baby?", you sighed, feeling pain in your chest.

Joe took your face in his hands easily, causing you to look directly in his eyes. "You're an amazing mother. You're so strong. You gave Amelia life, that's more than I could ever do. If it happens, it's going to be great. You'll be so adorable pregnant.", he chuckled, causing you to smile. "If not, we'll keep trying. This isn't a race. I just love seeing you as a mother. I love you, Y/N."

You couldn't help but let happy tears come into your eyes. "I love you too, Joe." 

You both hugged deeply before sharing a kiss—one that was deeper. 

"Why don't we relax first? They say it happens when you're relaxed and least expecting it.", Joe smirked at you, breaking the kiss.

You smirked. "You really did your reading?"

"Of course, love. I'll be right back.", he hopped off the bed, kissed you on the cheek, and headed straight for the bathroom. 

You heard the water running as you stood up, sliding out of your dress. You let your hair down before taking your earrings out. The bathroom door opened, causing you to eye the door. Joseph was standing there in just his boxers. A smirk across his face. You felt your cheeks heating up. It had been around three months since you all had been intimate. He walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, coming over to you. 

"Ready baby? The water's warm.", he smirked at you, feeling his breath on your cheeks. 

"Yeah.", you smiled as he allowed you to walk in front of him.

The bathroom was warm, bubble bath in the bathtub, he turned the lights down and lit some candles. You were surprised. He came behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, before kissing your neck and laying his head on your shoulder. You sighed easily as he reached for your bra, beginning to undo it. You leaned into him, the final snap undone, and your bra found itself on the bathroom floor. He kissed your shoulder blades as his hands began roaming over your chest, finding your breasts, him giving them a gentle squeeze.

"So beautiful.", he breathed in a sigh as you felt your nipples perk up under his touch. 

"You think so?", you hummed. 

You had been self-conscious of them since you had Amelia and breastfed her. You didn't feel like they had ever turned to their normal before you got pregnant. They had grown while you were pregnant with Amelia. Nothing too major just a couple of bra sizes. Joseph didn't mind it, however, you felt self-conscious. Your clothes didn't fit like they did before you got pregnant. Joseph reminded you anytime you got frustrated about your size that you were growing a baby—specifically his baby.

"Mhmm, you always look beautiful."

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you slid your underwear down, his hands moving to your hips. His eyes went wide, finally seeing you. It was a huge step for the both of you since the miscarriage. Joe was happy to see you returning back to your normal self. Joseph followed suit and removed his boxers, you catch the first glimpse of him in three months. 

You watched Joseph climb in first, sinking himself down into the water, closing his eyes, and instantly relaxing. All he had on was one of his chains and your eyes widened, the familiar hot, aching feeling returning to the pit of your stomach. He was scooted towards the back of the tub, ready for you to join him. You gulped instantly as you threw one leg over into the bathtub, him holding onto your waist to steady you as you eased down into the water, your back turned to him. 

You fit right between his legs, laying back against his chest. You heard him exhale a sigh of relief. The water was up to your breasts once you leaned back against him. The water sloshed as he brought one of his hands and wrapped it around your waist and the other near your breast. He hummed softly, resting his head against the wall, giving you a little more room to lean back into him. 

"How does this feel?", he asked, softly.

It was very romantic and tender. You couldn't help but lean back into him further, really sinking into him and the water. 

"Good.", you lightly moaned.

He smirked as he rubbed your waist. "You know what we should talk about?"

"What?", you hummed, the water warm and relaxing.

"I just want you to know that I know you've been stretched thin.", he kissed your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You could hear the water lightly splashing as you both barely moved, the bathroom quiet otherwise. You prayed Amelia would stay asleep. You just needed a little longer. It felt so euphoric to be this close to Joseph, nothing standing between you all. The water didn't take away from being able to feel his touch or the sensations between you all. 

"Uh-huh.", you sighed, begging him to continue. 

You felt his breath against your cool neck as he lightly chucked, continuing. "And I just want you to know what an amazing wife and mother you are."

"Is that so?"

He nodded. "Absolutely, love." He placed both of his hands on your hips, running them up your stomach before they both encompassed your breasts, easily rubbing your nipples causing you to moan softly, filling the bathroom.

"Just amazing what your body has done—don't you think? Carried our Amelia for nine months, gave birth to her, breastfed her—must I go on?", he breathed as he softly kissed your neck, moving one of his hands down your stomach. 

"Joe."

"Hmm?"

"You're praising me for just doing what women are designed to do."

His one hand remained on your breasts, his fingers rubbing your nipple, perking it up. The other rubbed your thigh and you knew where it was about to go. You felt him poking you easily, he was hard. It made your breathing hitch. You just wanted to melt into him. 

"I find it very amazing. You made it look so easy. It just made me want you that much more that you'd be willing to do all that so just we could have a baby.", he lightly groaned as his hands inched from your thigh towards your core. 

You mewled at his words and he was only just beginning.

"And honestly, it's why I'm so damn determined to put another baby in you."

Your eyes shot open at his words, your core burning so hot. The room was starting to feel hot but you couldn't distinguish whether it was you or truly the room.

"You are?", you asked lightly. 

"I am.", he cooed as two of his fingers slid into your folds causing you to moan. "Careful, not too loud baby or Amelia will wake up. I love when you moan loud but I really want to try to impregnate you tonight, don't you want that?"

You moaned quieter this time, nodding against him. "I do, Joe."

"Good. How does this feel?", he asked, working his fingers in and out of you slowly as he switched to your other breast, perking that nipple up causing you to squirm slightly, splashing water. 

"So good.", you moaned lightly as you felt him getting harder against your back. 

"Do you want me in you?", he asked. "Buried deep inside of you?"

You inhaled sharply, tossing your head back against his chest, feeling his leaning into yours. "Yes."

"I'll grab a towel and we'll go to the bedroom, sound good baby?"

You nodded.

Joe slid his fingers out of you just as quickly as they had entered you, causing you to mewl at the loss of contact. You needed him—-you were craving him. You leaned up enough to let him out of the bathtub, coming off your small high and realizing the water was becoming cool. You watched the water drip from his muscular physique before he grabbed two towels, wrapping one around his waist but it was impossible to miss his hard penis. It caused you to bite your lip. 

He held the towel open for you as you pulled the plug, allowing the water to begin draining. You raised up, feeiling overly exposed as you stepped onto the tiled bathroom floor, Joe instantly wrapping you in a towel and pulling you in his arms. Your nipples were hard now from the cool air. He rubbed your back easily, kissing your head multiple times. You laid your head on his chest, just feeling relaxed from being in his embrace.

You both finally warmed up and were ready to shed your towels. You unwrapped from yours first, your wet hair touching your chest. Joseph eyed your body easily and you slightly felt like a bug under a microscope. Every morning when you looked in the mirror all you could see were your imperfections—specifically your stretch marks. There weren't many and they had faded but they were still visible. 

Joseph seemed to read your mind. "Baby, they're not ugly."

"Are so.", you sighed, running your hands over them.

"Far from—just a reminder you carried our baby girl.", bent down on his knee, looking up at you before kissing them, causing you to close your eyes and run your hands through his damp, curly hair. 

He came back up easily, his hands on your waist as he began to kiss you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the cool metal rubbing your forearms. You both had to be thinking the same thing as he slid his under your butt, lifting you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss. He carried you out of the bathroom, kissing you deeper before you both came to the bed. He leaned over the bed, easing you down on the mattress with a soft thud, careful not to put all his body weight on you. He broke the kiss, looking deep in your eyes, a stray curling hanging down. 

"Ready for me to put a baby in you?", he asked softly. 

You nodded feverishly. "Yes.", you gulped.

That's all Joseph needed to hear. "Tell me how bad you want it, baby."

If you could sink further into the mattress, you would. You were blinking in anticipation for him, eyes hazily looking up at him. Maybe the heat had gone to your head. He was asking you feel under the influence. His hand ran through your hair before cupping your cheek, his brown eyes looking intently into yours.

"Joe, I want you, babe, so bad—make me pregnant, please.", you sighed under his touch. 

This drove his desire further. He smirked as he leaned up and kissed your neck, down your chest, down your stomach. He looked up at you as you ran your hands through his curls. He groaned softly, closing his eyes. He wanted in you so bad he could hardly stand it. He had craved you for months but he understood you needed time to heal mentally, emotionally, and physically. He wasn't going to rush you. This was hard for you to understand and cope with. 

Joseph leaned up easily, stroking himself in front of you, never breaking eye contact with you. You kept your eyes steady on him before looking down and seeing him take himself in his hands, stroking up and down his length, hissing easily. 

"God, you're just so beautiful. I've been waiting for this night for months.", he smiled down at you.

His words caused a sigh to escape your lips before you ran a hand softly down your chest, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He chuckled softly continuing to stroke himself. He was fully erect, his length never ceased to baffle you. It was like rediscovering him each time. 

"Careful or you're gonna end up cumming on my tummy and not in me.", you mocked him from earlier. 

He snickered at your coy response before throwing his head back. "We don't want that."

You shook your head. "Nope."

He suddenly stopped stroking himself, eliciting a groan at the loss of contact. "All I can think about is how adorable you look pregnant. I swear.", he groaned as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

"Really?"

He nodded. "And how amazing it is that you're carrying our baby—a part of both of us.", he eyed you as you felt him, without warning, shove himself deep inside of you, instantly stretching you. 

You closed your eyes, gasping at the sensation of him stretching you. The slight burning soon turned to pleasure faster than you could imagine. Things seemed to tighten back up when you didn't use them. Joseph smirked, knowing this was affecting you. He give you a moment to adjust to him before beginning to thrust deep inside of you, holding on to your thighs, sinking his fingertips in them. The bed quietly squeaked with each thrust, a sign he was giving it to you deep and hard.

You weren't complaining. It felt good as evidenced by your moans and need to grip the bedsheets. 

"I love you.", he groaned as he rubbed his right hand up and down your thigh, sending chills up your spine.

You moaned easily in response. "I love you too."

"You're gonna be such a good mom to Amelia and—and this baby.", he stuttered.

The sounds of you both having sex filled the room and you continued to hope Amelia would stay asleep. The worst feeling was being interrupted in the middle of sex with Joe. It had happened right before you found out you were pregnant last time. You both were so close to finishing at the same time until you both heard Amelia's cry come through the monitor before she began sobbing which instantly stopped you both in your tracks and killed the mood. Joe had slid out of you before sighing, throwing a pair of pajama pants on. 

You both loved Amelia more than life itself but it was hard to make time to be romantic at times. This was one of those nights. You slid your panties back on with a sigh, trying to forget the feelings Joseph had made you feel as you slid your nightgown on. You went to Amelia's room and picked her up out of her crib, her clinging to you. You felt her wet tears against your skin as she clung to you and the teddy bear Joe had gotten her. You carried her in your all's room. 

Joe's hard-on had disappeared quickly as he sat on the edge of the bed. You kissed Amelia's head.

"Did you have a nightmare baby?", you brushed through her curly hair as you let her climb in bed between you and Joe.

She nodded, pouting before reaching for Joseph. He took her in his arms and kissed her head. You flipped the lamp back off as you all settled down in bed, Amelia between you both. She was sniffling as Joseph held her in his arms. You put an arm around them both. You loved them both more than anything in this entire world. 

"You really think I will be?", you asked shakily, looking up at him as he continued to thrust himself into you. 

"I—I know you will be, baby. You're so strong—and loving—and I just love watching you with Amelia.", he grunted, thrusting deep into you, hitting the spot that made you forget your name.

"Joe.", you moaned out. 

"What, baby? I have so many pictures of you both on my phone—I just look at them when I miss you both. I just can't help thinking how bad I want to give you another baby.", he sighed, closing his eyes. 

You eyed him as he continued to thrust into you with soft groans, he was waiting for your reaction. You ran your hands over his back, gently sinking your fingertips into his soft skin. Just touching him and feeling him this close to your made you fall that much more in love with him. 

"Yeah?", you smiled.

"Oh yeah—it was so hard to wait this long to really try for another baby—and know that we are really working towards getting you pregnant.", he groaned.

His words sent chills all over your body, the twisting, aching feeling returning to your stomach. Joseph was going deep—so deep you could feel him in the pit of your stomach. You were moaning in spurts as he continued to thrust himself into you. He smiled, throwing his head back easily and closing his eyes. This lasted for just a few moments before his eyes opened, desire laced in his brown eyes. 

"Baby.", he moaned out. 

"Yes babe?", you moaned back. 

He chuckled lightly. "Are—you—ready?"

"For?", you teased lightly. 

He bit his lip, chain lightly dangling before he took a free hand, brushing it through his curls while he admired your body. Yes, your body may not be the same as before you got pregnant but he didn't want it to be. When you got married, you may have been a little smaller, breasts a little perkier, and no stretch marks. You were beautiful then. Now, your body showed signs you are a mother. You had retained a little bit of your baby weight, your breasts were a little less perky, and you had stretch marks. But Joe loved you the way you were. 

After Amelia turned three months old, you decided to try and go to the gym or go on morning walks or runs to try and get off the excess baby weight. Joseph convinced you that you didn't need to do that. He still managed to make you feel beautiful even when you were frazzled after being woken up at three in the morning, attempting to get Amelia to latch and eat. She was so fussy when she was hungry or needed a diaper change. Joseph never left you up alone with Amelia. He would run his hands through her hair as you fed her, sinking back into the pillow you had propped up against the headboard.

"For me to put a baby in you—God, I'm so close baby.", he groaned as he continued thrusting, deep and soft.

"Yes.", you whispered, smiling up at him.

He knew that look in your eyes. They were glossy, pupils were blown from the feelings he was making you feel. You were closing in on your orgasm. Your climax was building and soon, you'd release. He couldn't wait. Feeling you tighten up around him, your juices spilling around him. Your fingertips sank deeper in his skin, toes curling around his waist as his thrust became a little slower, more sensual. 

"Babe—", you moaned. 

"Yes, love?"

"I'm gonna cum—I swear I'm gonna—", you choked, swallowing as if that would keep your orgasm at bay.

"Do it, baby. I need to cum in you and fill you so full.", he groaned.

Those words spilling from his tongue caused you to hit your orgasm head-on. Your back arched, fingernails sinking into his skin as you felt your walls tighten around him, muscles contracting and pulling him in deeper. His eyes widened as your body reached its high, your eyes becoming heavy and blurred. He loved watching you have an orgasm—all because he did all the right things. 

"Such a great wife—God. Baby, are you ready for me to fill you full? To give you a baby?"

You nodded groggily. 

"So—good.", he thrusted deeper twice before you knew it was over for him.

"Oh fuck, here it comes baby—I'm gonna feel you full——give you a baby—I promise.", his chest heaved with his final words as he closed his eyes, you feeling his warm, hot liquid shoot inside of you with the pumping of his member. You lay there, allowing his member to stop pulsing. It was several pumps before he felt satisfied enough to pull out.

"Wait, before you move baby.", he breathed as he grabbed a couple extra pillows you all had in your bed.

"Why babe? You got it deep in me, I promise.", you chuckled, placing a hand on your lower stomach.

"Because they recommend you prop your hips up on a pillow to help my babies reach your womb.", he smirked as you allowed him to slide them under your hips. "Gets them closer to your cervix.", he smiled.

You giggled. It was cute how serious he was taking this and how determined he was to get you pregnant. It was actually sexy that he was putting this much effort into this. He sighed deeply, a sign he was beyond satisfied. You turned your head to face him, smiling from ear to ear. You were love drunk and it was the best you had felt in a long time. 

"I love you.", you smiled.

"I love you too, baby.", Joe smiled as he kissed you, cuddling up to you so you could keep your hips elevated.

Several weeks passed. You and Joe continued to be very intimate and try for a baby. You all did it as often as you could. Whether it was when Amelia was down for a nap or right before you both went to bed. Amelia slept with you all a few nights but other than that, you both had been working very hard on getting pregnant. Joseph was getting ready to go out of town for some interviews and red carpet events. He asked if you wanted to go, however, you opted to stay home with Amelia and prepare for Christmas.

Joseph's family came over to your house since you and Joseph had been together. You remembered the first Christmas you spent with Joseph and his family. You were so nervous, but they instantly had made you feel at home. Joseph was helping Amelia with her dinner as you sat down with just a salad. You had made lasagna and a salad for dinner, however, your stomach was turning. 

Joseph eyed you as Amelia ate her chicken nuggets. "Babe, are you going to eat?"

"Feeling a little nauseated.", you eyed him. 

He nodded as he eat his lasagna. Your nausea didn't lift until you ended up in the bathroom, throwing up. Joseph came in and made sure you were alright, careful not to leave Amelia to her own devices. She was in her curious stage and would make a mess if you let her. You stood up easily from the tiled floor of your bathroom, eyeing yourself in the mirror. You looked a little exhausted. You wiped your mouth but did not return to the kitchen table. 

Joseph didn't pressure you to test or tease you about a possible pregnancy. A few more days passed and it was the night before Joseph was leaving. You all were in the middle of foreplay when another sign popped up.

"Ouch—", you hissed, recoiling from him.

His hand had been roaming your body, running his hand over your breast before taking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. That's when you felt the dull, achy pain shoot through your entire breast.

"What, baby? What did I do?", he asked, his eyes immediately changing from lust to concern.

"Just my boob hurts—really bad.", you hissed, carefully massaging your own breast with your own hand gently and tenderly but you could still feel the dull, achy pain.

Joseph kissed your cheek. "What do you think's causing that?"

"Probably just hormones—maybe I'm getting ready to ovulate or have my period."

You had tried to keep up with your ovulation and period on a period-tracking app, but it was a little difficult to follow.

"We can just cuddle tonight, but will you let me try to put a baby in you when I get back home?", he brushed through your hair as he kissed your cheek tenderly, a hint of seduction in his voice.

You nodded, smirking. "Of course."

Joseph left the next day, nearly crying when saying goodbye to you and Amelia. It was hard for him to go, but you understood. You were proud of him. Amelia hated to see her daddy leave and often went and sulked for a few hours. Joseph always checked in and made sure she returned to her old self. You were on your computer, googling the symptoms you had while Amelia took her nap. You hoped she wouldn't be so fussy and agitated when she got up.

Looking back, it was dumb and naive of you to google your symptoms. You hit 'enter' on your laptop as you awaited the search results to come back. All signs pointed to yes—there was a possibility you were pregnant. Your eyes widened as you clicked a link and followed it, all the symptoms listed matching up with yours. Part of you panicked because Joseph was out of town, but you needed to know. Were you pregnant again? 

A nervous feeling rose from the pit of your stomach as you shuffled around your kitchen, trying to focus on something else. Particularly the store list of what you needed for Christmas. You eyed it before slipping it into your purse. A perfect excuse to go to the store and pick up a couple of pregnancy tests. The wait for Amelia to wake up seemed to take forever. 

Finally, your alarm went off and you went to wake up Amelia. She adjusted after a few minutes, a little grumpy at first. After giving Amelia a snack, you helped her get dressed. You opted for a hoodie, leggings, and a messy bun for your trip to the store. You bent down, helping Amelia get her winter coat on. She instantly made a pouty face, disgusted and a true copy of her daddy. 

"Amelia, stop looking like your daddy.", you laughed at her. 

"No.", she frowned further pouting and crossing her arms.

You could only imagine how she would be in a few years as she began to grow up. 

"Amelia, please do this for mommy. It's cold outside.", you eyed her.

She reluctantly uncrossed her arms slowly before letting you escort her out the door and to your SUV. You buckled her in before getting into the driver's seat, shuttering from the cold. Snow lightly began falling as you and Amelia entered the store, you placing her in the shopping cart. Distracting yourself, you headed for the groceries. You picked out everything on the list. Amelia was behaving fairly well.

However, in times like these, you still missed Joe. You picked out some Christmas decorations before saving the best for last. You went to the health and beauty section, hitting the family planning aisle. There they were, the little test that would determine whether or not you were pregnant again with your rainbow baby. You bit your lip, eying them nervously. You gained a few glances from older women. What was the big deal? You were a mother and could be pregnant again. It wasn't like you were a baby yourself. 

You were a grown woman and married to the love of your life. He was such a good provider for your family and took care of you both. Both of his girls. You finally selected a First Response pregnancy test— a box that contained two. You tossed it in the shopping cart before getting ready to check out. The snow was picking up as you and Amelia pulled into the driveway. Snow had lightly covered the ground, beginning to lie on. 

You grabbed as much as you could before getting Amelia in the house and putting the groceries in the kitchen. It took you two trips to get all your items. You quickly put the groceries away as Amelia watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on television. This was a perfect opportunity to sneak off to the bathroom and test quickly. You gave her milk in her sippy cup and her favorite blanket to satisfy her. 

In the downstairs bathroom by yourself, you opened the box and quickly reviewed the directions. It could take two minutes. You opened the test, preparing to pee on this little white and pink stick. You took a deep breath, your nerves coming to a head as you performed the test. You easily laid it on the counter. Now, you had to wait. You ran out of the bathroom, checking on Amelia. She was still glued to the television. You told her you'd be right back to join her. 

You closed your eyes as you entered the bathroom, the moment of truth. Your hand began to shake nervously as you reached for the pregnancy test. Keeping it angled enough to not see the result, you brought it closer to your face. You closed your eyes and took another deep breath before eyeing it. You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth as you noticed two pink lines. You were pregnant.

Tears filled your eyes as you gasped in disbelief again, a smile coming across your face. Joe had done it. He had given you a baby.  

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:21 pm]

(cw: few bad words, suggestive joke at the end)

John Seo is a menace. Johnny is the actual spawn of Satan. There was absolutely nothing good to be said about your fiancé in this moment. You glared at the top shelf of the cabinet in front of you. You hated him in this moment. 

There had been many instances over the years with passive aggressive acts after petty arguments had occurred. Once you had switched the pillows on your bed to give Johnny the flattest pillows you had in the house. Another time Johnny had ‘nicely’ done the laundry but so conveniently did only his clothes- they weren’t even full loads of laundry! But this, this was an act of pure evil. 

You stared at the french press placed on the highest shelf of the cabinet. This was the worst, most evil thing Johnny had ever done to you. It was especially evil because before you even knew Johnny you wouldn’t need coffee at this hour. He had created the habit of a mid afternoon cup of coffee! There wasn’t even a reason for the french press to be up so high since you both had coffee like every 3 hours every day you were home. He towered over the general population, so of course he would be the only person in the house to reach the french press at this height.

This must have been his way of forcing you to talk to him, making him win the argument that occurred that very morning. He wouldn’t win though, there were other solutions to this problem. You could get the step stool, but that would be too short. Pulling over a chair or getting the step ladder seemed like too much work. The easiest option would be to climb on the counter, so you did. 

While you were up there you took a little look around. What else was Johnny hiding up there? Some expired coupons, old candies, a dead flower, nothing good. 

“What the hell are you doing up there?!” Johnny yelled.

You jumped, “John! You can’t just yell at me when I’m standing on the counter!” 

“Get down,” He walked over and pulled you off the counter, “You could have just asked me for help. That’s what you were supposed to do.”

“I could’t let you win, not when you want to fight this dirty.” You scoffed, moving around him to go through the very familiar motions of making coffee, just the way you and Johnny liked it.

“I didn’t think I’d have to make this rule in a house we share as adults, but no climbing on the counters.” He stated.

“Then you can’t put things we both use regularly out of my reach,” you countered.

Johnny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine, deal. And I’m sorry for starting the argument this morning, it was a joke that went too far. I would never actually let the Thong Song by Sisqo be out first dance, I watched Glee and I’m sorry.” 

You chuckled under your breath, finally holding eye contact with the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, “You really are a little shit, I forgive you and I’m sorry for making it a bigger deal than it should have been.”

“Baby, you and I both know it’s not little.”

“John!”

[quanticowrites]

Surf (Kate Whistler x Reader)

•• First Whistler fic! For anon, I hope you enjoy! ••

“Ow! God damn it!”

“If you’d stop moving, this would be less painful!”

“You’re putting too much pressure! It’s going to start bleeding again!”

“I’m certified in this shit, (y/n).” She said, tightening the bandage some more around your waist. “I know what I’m doing.” You winced. Well, you had no one to blame but yourself for getting shot. You’d hesitated because the shooter was so young. Kate leaned back on her knees and sighed. “You never should have been there in the first place.”

“I was doing just fine until-!” You stopped and took a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. Yelling did not help the pain that blossomed from your torso. “Fuck.”

“Don't strain yourself.” She stated, getting off the bed and helping you get leaned up against some pillows at the headboard. “Tennant knew I would object to this. That's why she was sure to get you out there before I could say anything.” She paused as if she wanted you to say something. Maybe tell her she was wrong. Unfortunately…she wasn't. Jane knew how Kate would feel about you going into deep cover, so she rushed you out of the building as fast as possible before Kate’s FBI team could catch wind of her plan. There was a new chain of dry cleaners popping up on the island, but it was a front for a drug ring trying to establish itself here. Jane wanted to nip it in the bud before it could get out of control. So, she put you on the inside. You'd been under for two weeks before this incident. Meaning you had two weeks of Kate ranting to go before she got over it. “Are you going to object?” She asked, crossing her arms. You scoffed.

“No, I'm not. I agreed with Tennant’s decision.” You saw her jaw clench. She wasn't happy about this new revelation.

“You what?”

“I chose to go undercover.”

“Why would you do that?” You blinked. She hadn't been informed of that part?

“Kate, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I've been with NCIS just as long as you've been with the FBI.”

“It's not that-.” She huffed. “I just…you couldn't find two minutes to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” You start, already not liking the answer you had to give. “With helping Ernie make the fake background and social media to Tennant running me out of there…my mind was scrambling.” Kate sighed again. But this one seemed more understanding. If that made sense. She gently sat on the other side of the bed. Doing her best not to jostle you.

“FBI Agents go dark in the field all the time.” She started to fidget with her fingers. Picking at her nails and peeling the nail polish off in chunks. “I'm used to that at work. But…I never thought that might happen with you.” She laughed. “I don't know why, you're an agent just like I am. It could happen to us at any moment.”

“Come on, Kate. It's late. Lay down.” You lifted the blanket and Kate sent you a smile before snuggling underneath and curling up close to you. “How about…we have a secret word.” She blinked, her lips twitching upwards.

“Like…for sex?” You laughed, before biting your lip. Laughing that hard did not help the pain from your gunshot wound.

“N-no. Not for s-sex.” You waited until you regained your composure before telling her your actual idea. “For if one of us gets called to go undercover.” You saw her eyes moving through scenes in her mind. She ultimately nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“I have good ideas.”

“On occasion.”

“I have good ideas all the time!”

“Tell that to the last load of laundry you did.”

“I genuinely thought adding bleach and detergent at the same time would wash both white and regular clothes.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“No one! I just thought of it!” You reached your hand out and held a finger to the tip of her nose. “Anyway, you're getting off-topic. We still gotta pick a word.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“How about…Aristotle?”

“The Philosopher?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay. Cheetos?”

“Cheetos?”

“They're my favorite junk food.”

“I already knew that.” You moved your finger to her forehead. “Let's pick a word that can be easily moved into a conversation. In case we have to be quick about it.”

“How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time.”

“It baffles the mind.” You looked her over with a smile. “Come on, that brain of yours can think of something.”

“Then….how about surf?” You nodded. That was a practical word for two agents that worked in Hawaii. Surfing was one of the most popular things to do on the island. It could work.

“That's perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Kate.” You sighed, feeling the constraints of your bandages. “Your bandage skills aren't perfect though.”

Tag list:

@stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @marennnx

[phoenix-rising-starbird-one]

I don’t know if my bar is really low or I’m just now realizing how much I used to do before 1400.

But there’s something very nice about coming home after a 12 hour day and 1) not having to run post-work errands like getting groceries, 2) not having to clean house and 3) not having to think about/pick dinner and a movie. Know what I mean?

Like 1400 does this without me telling him or having to ask. All he does is send a text that simply states “don’t worry about dinner, it’s taken care of” or “no need to go to the store, got the groceries”.

Like. Do you understand how nice it is that I don’t have to think for him!? That he takes that mental load of me!? Like these trivial little mental loads. “How much toilet paper is left?” Usually, I know exactly how much is left cause that is ALWAYS up there, along with whether I need milk or if the laundry detergent is running low and the fact that it’s my niece’s birthday and oh, shit, this and that event is tomorrow so I need to get this and that….

But with 1400, when he’s here and even when he’s not, I don’t have to carry all that shit in my head. Now, I’m not expecting him to like take it all on. There’s way too much to remember.

But I think the key difference is: There’s no asking “Bunny, what do you need me to do?” Or “what kind of brand xyz should I get?” There’s only doing. And yes, occasionally, he’ll send me a pic from the store and go “this the right one?” Or he’ll ask “what’s your niece’s fave color?” But like… he’s doing the thing like a grown man should. He sees. He takes action. And if he does get the wrong thing or do the thing wrong, he just goes “okay, so I’ll do it right the next time.” AND HE DOES!!!???!!??

So is my bar legit that low? Is it?

[im-not-a-l0ser]

Hi, today sucked, lemme tell you all the reasons it sucked in chronological order

I woke up at 1 am and read for a while. I did not get back to bed until 5 am.

I woke up approximately 15 minutes before I had to be out the door, so despite my planning to take a shower and wear a Victorian esc clothing today (for throwback Thursday, dumb school thing) I couldn't.

I didn't eat last night, so for the first time this semester I got breakfast from the cafeteria and it was not good.

We were practicing hand and arm massages in class for state board and wow, I fucking hated the smell, feeling and all around company of the lotion we were using.

I didn't charge my phone last night so I had my phone (and laptop) plugged in for my last two periods of school.

It was warm enough that I didn't need my jacket (a comfort item) so I took it off and put it over my backpack. It fell on the dirty bus floor while I was napping through the half hour bus ride.

My laptop wasn't plugged in properly so it was nearly dead when I got home.

Dad said we were going to the library to file my taxes. Okay, gotcha, I won't change into my home clothes, I'll just switch my binder out for a bra.

My sheets were dirty and I didn't want to lay in my gross bed with clean clothes on so I stripped my mattress and brought the sheets downstairs, where I find the washing machine on a self cleaning cycle. It was at 0, but I guess that's not done?

I notice that my little siblings who had lice for a couple days have put clothes in the laundry basket downstairs, which has my prom dress in it. Prom is on Saturday and I am literally too afraid to dig through their shit to find the dress.

I return to my room and work on chapter two of a story, but it's getting late and my dad hasn't called me out to the van yet.

I only learn my dad is home when he sends a picture of dinner to the gc. I leave my room to ask when we're doing taxes; he tells me he's eating and that I should eat too.

Twenty minutes later (like 7:50 pm at this point), we finally start my fucking taxes.

Very long annoying process, to learn that state taxes should not be filed through this site for me. It worked just fine for my sibling. I ask dad if we can do it tomorrow and he says taxes are due in four days. Whatever.

We go to a different site to file my state taxes where I try to register twice and it denies me both times for my laptop having a VPN. I do not control that; it's my school laptop and it didn't even process that's what the issue was for like 10 minutes.

Dad tells me to go to bed. He's tired. That's when I'm allowed to go to bed, when he's tired.

I return to my room and realise my sheets have never been put in the wash, and I can't sleep without a blanket. And for obvious reasons, I only trust that one blanket right now.

I shove it in the wash for a half hour load, but it doesn't fucking matter because my sister's shit is in the dryer at 45 minutes. She doesn't have an empty basket in the bathroom to put the dry stuff into should it finish and someone else needs to. Her shit is going on the floor in about 20 minutes.

I'm laying on my bed, very cold, just waiting for the fucking wash to be done so I can go to sleep. Except, I know it won't be because my sheets take like two hours to dry at high heat, which also means I won't have my comfort jacket for tomorrow.

I just want to go to sleep and can't because I'm stressing over the idea of going to school in not my comfort jacket.

Honorable mentions: My cosmetology textbook has really misleading information regarding synthetic wigs and its pissing me off. I was supposed to go to Walmart today so I could get breakfast for tomorrow. We had a test in English that gave me a lot of anxiety.

[violette-hue]

Hiii writer, I didn't know how to answer on my own box so I'm gonna write here. It's like Daichi give her a ticket for parking the car where she should not do it. ^^ Sorry for don't explain before. Thank you

Summary: Cop!Daichi gives you a parking ticket, and later they run into each other at a bar. You really don’t like this guy as he tries to justify the ticket. (Request by @misslili265 )

Trigger Warning(s): slight enemies to lovers, cursing, the police, being broke

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! May or may not make a part two 👀 I really liked this idea 😊

Requests are open!

“No, no, no.” You rushed out the building to your car, crossing the busy downtown street. “Shit!”

On your windshield was a small yellow sheet a paper. A fucking parking ticket. You sighed in frustration. The parking meter had only just ran out of time and you were going to fill it back up for another hour. Whoever gave this ticket was an A1 douche.

You looked around to see if you could find the cop, and luckily, he was about several cars down, giving another parking ticket to some poor, poor individual.

“Hey!” you called, shuffling over to him. “Hi, sorry Officer—um—I got a ticket? I was just going to put some extra coins for another hour…”

The officer looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Okay?”

“So, can you take this ticket back? Please?”

At this, the officer fully turned toward you, his eyebrows raised. “No.”

You felt your eye twitch and your fingers spasm around the ticket, crumpling the stupid yellow paper. You bit your tongue as irritation rose in you, but you were insulting the officer before you knew it. “Thanks for nothing, you royal jerk.”

You spun on your heal and sashayed away. Would you regret this later, absolutely. But now you just needed that little sliver of satisfaction the irritation on his face gave you.

That ticket had put a huge dent in your account. You sighed as you slammed your laptop shut. You’d just have to live off ramen until your next paycheck. No biggie. Except you really, really wanted a pizza. Another sigh passed through your lips, this time more aggressive. It couldn’t be helped. That ass hat of a cop screwed this check up for you.

You forced yourself to stand from your ancient couch and grabbed your laundry. There was no use in sulking over something you couldn’t change, and you really needed to do your laundry. You tossed the diluted laundry soap in your hamper and hauled it down the few flights that lead to the laundry room. You had wanted to grab a new bottle of laundry soap on the way home, but then you wouldn’t have been able to pay for the ticket. And you really did not want to get your license suspended.

The laundry room of your apartment building was small, only housing three washers and three dryers. Of those dryers, only one worked properly. The others either left your clothes still wet, or went absolute ham and shrunk all your clothes. Fortunately for you, that dryer was already occupied, as were one of the washer machines. You loaded the washer and went to grab your laundry soap when you noticed whoever was doing their laundry left their own soap. You looked around the small room and even peaked your head out into the hallway. Not a soul was around. You grabbed the fuller, non-diluted laundry soap and poured it over your clothes. You couldn’t be helped with doing things the proper way and filling that small compartment.

“Do you always steal laundry soap from strangers?”

You jumped, quickly screwing the top back on and placed the soap down. You turned to see your accuser, and you really wish you hadn’t. Your face turned into a sour scowl and you turned back to starting the washer.

“I do when they’re an asshole of a cop and robbed me of all my money. Take it as restitution,” you responded, not bothering to hide the disdain in your voice.

“It’s not my fault your meter ran out of money,” the cop from earlier stated, walking over to his own laundry. Fuck that was his laundry in the washer and dryer.

“I told you I was going to refill it.” You slammed the washer shut and turned to your nemesis. “I barely had enough money for the meter, then you slap me with a ticket I definitely did not have the money for. Sorry if I had to steal your expensive soap.”

“Even if I wanted to take back the ticket, I couldn’t. Once it’s in the system, it’s there until you pay it or it gets dismissed by a judge.”

The cop leaned against the dryer facing you, his arms crossed over his chest. You mentally kicked yourself as your eyes lingered a little too long on how thick arms. And wide chest.

“Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“Let me make it up do you. Keep the soap.”

You turned to the cop, eyes narrowed with annoyance. “How generously chivalrous of you,” you said sarcastically, grabbing his soap. You weren’t going to let this freebie pass you by, even if this guy was a dick.

“And let me take you out to dinner.”

You nearly choked at that. This guy had the nerve to give you a ticket, be a royal jerk, and then ask you out? You shook your head, scoffing. “No.”

“Whatever you want. I’m sure that’s better than ramen, or whatever microwave meals you buy.”

Your eyes were practically almost closed with how hard you were glaring at him. You drummed your fingers on the laundry soap bottle, thinking hard. You could say yes and get a free pizza out of it, but for how much that ticket was, that wasn’t nearly enough compensation. And this cop was cute…maybe even a little too handsome…and buff. He couldn’t be that much of a dick face if he was offering to make it up to you. You chewed on your bottom lip in contemplation.

“Fine. Pizza tonight, then a fancy, expensive dinner this weekend. Bring me flowers,” you finally answered. “And be thankful I’m not making you grovel at my feet.”

The cop raised a brow and a smile graced his features. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement and he nodded. “Alright, your highness. I’ll pick you up at 7:00 Friday.”

You couldn’t help but return the smile. “I prefer goddess. And I like green peppers on my pizza.”

“My type of girl.” The cop smiled wider and pulled out his phone.

You climbed on top of the washer to sit as he ordered the pizza and some garlic knots. You smiled wider. Pizza and garlic knots? He must really be interested.

Once he was finished on the phone, you asked, “So I take it you live here too?”

“Yeah—third floor. Unit 302.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I live in 310. How have I never seen you before?”

He shrugged. “I usually work nights. I just picked up an extra shift for some overtime. Must be fate.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesiness, but for some reason it tugged on your heart. “Mmm. Does Officer Royal Jerk have an actual name?”

The cop laughed, bringing his hands over his heart. “You wound me. I was just doing my job.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s your name?”

The cop moved to stand next to the washer you were seated on. “Daichi.”

You nodded, trying and failing to contain a smile. “Sounds like a jerk’s name.”

Daichi laughed and his thick arm brushed against your bare thigh. You laughed along with him. When the pizza finally arrived, you both ate your fill. Daichi stayed in the laundry room long after his clothes were finished. You thought he was waiting for you to be done. It was sweet and made you smile like an idiot.

That stupid smile stayed on your face as you walked with Daichi up to the third floor and to your apartment.

“Well, this is me,” you said, placing your laundry basket on the floor.

Daichi nodded and shifted his laundry basket. “I’ll see you at 7:00 on Friday. Wear something fancy and expensive.”

You giggled at him using your words against you. You supposed you did have a fancy and expansive looking dress you could bring out of retirement.

“Don’t be late Officer Douche,” you said playfully.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, goddess.”

Requests are open!

[goldenboygate]

I was going to just let stuff go, say "Carlos and Lando are both basically universally hated by F1 fans online but loved at the tracks," and move on. But I think there is something to say about all the shit BOTH their families are getting after this most recent race. 

It's 2023. Lando has proved his talent and worth to McLaren time and time again. He's among the best paid drivers on the grid. Yet you still have these salty ass fans carrying on on McLaren's socials about them having to prioritize him because he's a pay driver and his daddy pays McLaren's bills. Which is not only a HUGE slap in the face to all of the hard work and effort (especially in the midst of the chronic pain he's discussed) Lando has put in to the team, but also slandering the entire Norris family's character. These people are accusing his dad of paying the team to sabotage his son's teammate? Seriously? The same man who was cheering for Oscar just as loud as he was his own son? These assholes need to build a bridge and get the fuck over their baggage with Lando. They don't have to support him, but this spreading false information and even dragging his family into it is disgusting. Both he and his family know the team is the priority. They've never implied he should be favored over his teammate. (And the Oscar fans hating on Lando over team strategy decisions that Lando doesn't make himself need to get the fuck over it too. Unless these same people were screaming "sabotage" in Silverstone when Lando nearly got undercut but not only Oscar but also George had that safety car not saved McLaren's ass, then I quite literally don't want to hear how the team pitting the second car in the placements is "sabotage." Especially not when the team has routinely explained their reasonings. Shit happens. It's racing. If people can't handle that without spreading lies and conspiracy theories and blatant hatred, try a cooking competition show instead. They usually don't have to work as a team anyway – it'll be right up their alleys). 

Same thing with Carlos. They're not asking for Carlos to be favored. They're asking for equal treatment. Which frankly - given Ferrari isn't fighting for championships or wins right now, shouldn't be that difficult for them to do, yet as Sainz Sr. pointed out, Carlos isn't even sure when he's allowed to fight his teammate because there's completely different standards based upon who is in front of who. That's not being "political" anymore than Ferrari continuously giving Carlos orders to hold position when Charles is ahead, but allowing Charles to fight every time Carlos is ahead is "political." Also, as I mentioned previously, the ONLY time his family gets involved like this is when it's warranted. Contrary to popular belief, McLaren has never prioritized just Lando,  just like they didn't prioritize just Carlos when he was on the team. They prioritize who is faster — sometimes by race pace, sometimes by strategy. Point being, in McLaren, unless it's a situation where one driver is blatantly off the pace, they are generally treated equal. There was no reason for the Sainz family to go on the offense, and now look, practically everyone they encountered on the team when Carlos was here, they're still close with. The ONLY teams that seem to have a problem with the Sainz family are the teams that either don't want to give equal treatment or the other teammates' relatives were causing problems to begin with. 

In short, both their families are tremendously supportive of their sons. And when their sons are being treated fairly by their teams, they're tremendously supportive of those teams too. I don't think you can fault either one of them for defending their sons when their team doesn't treat them fairly, however. 

Okay. End rant. I've just had a laundry day and all of the stuff I have read about both of them in between loads of laundry has thoroughly pissed me off lmao.

i really needed to read this right now. sorry i was so late to post ❤️

[goblin-face-sucker]

grumpy shit under fold

Feeling so fucking crushed tbh. Maybe it's the 2:30am insomnia (which isn't that bad I know). Maybe it's the general feeling of having Too Much to do.

I had like a genuinely really positive day at work - a client fed back how great I was, in front of my head of department. My juniors said they were happy how the project went. This is genuinely huge, because I love love this job, and I am still in probation and I want to pass.

And I tried to celebrate myself! And it gets met with "well duh of course you'll pass probation" like okay haha yeah probably but. I haven't sold anything in, and I'm about five skills behind everyone else on my level. I've never managed anyone before, and it's been over a year since I worked with advertisers directly.

Then we had a great MOTW game, but I felt like I was struggling with my character class cause it didn't feel like it fit the character I wanted play. The keeper said we could change characters at this point, so I was looking, and my friend was looming over my shoulder and I felt so pressured and stressed

I know it's really stupid to get stressed about a ttrpg. I like doing them with my friends, DND is amazing, but I am finding it difficult to relax at all right now, and feel loads of weird pressure.

I also just straight up can't fucking read - no glasses, no energy, and background noise of people talking and I literally stop being able to follow lines horizontally. I can read the individual words, but it's like my eyes won't move side to side anymore.

So I was like struggling to read the different options and I felt embarrassed about it, and they were looming and I love this friend but they can be Very opinionated about what other people should do so I was like "I'm just looking right now" like dude I'm sick, it's after midnight, I don't own a rulebook of this and I can't fucking read so it's taking all my energy. He gets rejection sensitive

So he leaves me, everyone is chatting, I'm looking. I decide now isn't the time and I can stick the class out and maybe the character will die soon, and I can start again anyway. It'll be fun.

But then everyone is like convincing me I should change?? And then my friend just says "you just can't be bothered"

And it just flicked the switch in my brain and now I'm lying awake in The Hole like

Yeah I'm lazy piece of shit.

There is so much stuff I haven't got done. And everyone knows. Like. I haven't painted the ceiling yet, or rode my bike, or cleaned the alleyway, or combined my pensions, or booked a holiday, or vacuumed the bedroom since last week, or changed the sheets, or sorted the laundry, or finished my privacy certificate at work, or emailed that client about their backfill, or worked on my novel, or contacted the Brighton writing group, or meal prepped that chicken, or been to the gym three times this week.

And people keep asking me, and I haven't done it, whatever it is, cause I'm a lazy piece of shit.