#if you don’t like him anymore stop following him and his music

[traffic-was-a-b1tch]

anthem of the heart

(jake kiszka x reader 18+)

summary: you and your best friend move into a new apartment after college, wanting a fresh start in nashville. however, you come to find that your neighbors are musicians. very loud musicians who like to keep you up at night. especially one, who likes to bother you on purpose. you would hate him… if he wasn’t so hot.

warnings for overall series: eventual SMUT!!!, angst, mentions of past abuse (not jake), abuse (not jake), mentions of past sexual assault (not jake), sexual assault (not jake), enemies to lovers, cursing, let me know if I missed any. (i’m still making this series up as I go along so it might change)

warnings for this chapter: SMUT, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT UP), fingering, slight dom!jake, sir kink, praise kink, punishment kink (if you squint), kissing, cursing, let me know if I missed any!

author’s note: heyyyy! sorry for the long wait! thank you again for the likes and love for this series! let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! as always, please feel free to give me feedback, requests, comments, etc. enjoy!!!

• • •

Chapter Eight:

you were so distracted from your celebration that you didn’t realize that jake wasn’t in bed anymore. you looked around the bedroom and didn’t see any sign of him besides his black shirt on the floor from last night.

damn. that was all coming back to you. you could still feel him all over you; his hands, his mouth, his…

get ahold of yourself.

you don’t have time for that this morning. your interview was in only 3 hours and you couldn’t risk being any kind of late.

you got up, still naked, and left the bedroom. following down the hall, you started to hear something. it sounded like a acoustic guitar, just a little muffled. you came into the living room, still no sign of jake. but the guitar was getting louder, like you were getting closer. you continued walking towards the music, and found yourself at the recording room.

the door was cracked open a bit so you heard the guitar clearly now. you could also catch a glimpse of him through the window, sitting on a stool and strumming it shirtless. he looked so beautiful.

the rhythm was familiar but you thought it was just something he wrote. that was until you heard him start to sing.

“now I don’t hardly know her,”

a beat.

“but I think I could love her,”

a beat.

“crimson and clover.”

his voice was like a husky honey; sweet and raspy. you recognized that the song was crimson and clover by tommy james and the shondells. it was a favorite classic of your mom’s. you swayed to it, never letting your eyes leave him.

he vocalized, eyes closed. you smiled at the sight of him. he was so enthralled in the music that it enchanted you. he slowly opened his eyes, finding you in the doorway. he stopped and an embarrassed smile creeped on his face.

you came into the room, closing the door behind you, clapping.

“creeper”, he teased, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him.

“come on, I like it when you play.”

he raised his eyebrows, “you used to not…”

you scoffed, “shut up.” then you added, sing-songy, “I have good news.”

“what?” his voice was still a bit tired.

“I got an interview at my dream job.” you were still giddy even talking about it.

he made a shocked face and got excited. “yes! you’ll finally be out of my hair during the day now.”

you pushed him and tried to back away, but he kept his grip on your hips as he laughed.

“let’s both hope I get this job because if I don’t and I have to deal with your bullshit for all 24 hours, I might murder you.”

he cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“but as of right now, I need to shower and get ready”, you removed his hands on your hips and turned to leave.

“mmm, no. you look fine as is”, he fought, grabbing your hand and not letting you leave.

you looked back at him, eyebrow raised, “i’m naked, jake.”

“and? no amount of clothes can replace this look right now”, he made a camera with his hands and pretended to take pictures of you.

“don’t try to flatter me in hopes of morning sex because I really don’t have time right now”, you rolled your eyes, giggling, and tried to leave again.

he stopped you again, “i’m not trying to get any, believe me. if I wanted you right now, i’d have you right now. but maybe I just like you being here.”

your eyes lingered on each other for a bit longer than what was comfortable.

he looked you up and down, taking in all of your curves, “but now that you’ve got me thinking about it…”

“jake, no. i’ll be late”, you reasoned lightheartedly.

“how much time do you have?”

you sighed, “3 hours.”

he reached up to grab your jaw, guiding you down to his level, “I only need 20 minutes.”

he kissed you softly and you deepened it. as soon as he’d kissed you, a fire lit inside you and you needed him. now.

he softly moved the guitar that was resting on his lap to the ground and urged you on his lap. you kissed hard and messily, too caught up in desire to care.

he trailed his hands all over your body, feeling your soft skin against his guitar calloused fingers. he broke from your kisses, eyes boring into you.

“don’t break eye contact. if you do, I stop. got it?”

you nodded.

his fingers found their way in between your legs before two of them lined up with your opening. he pressed them inside you slowly , causing you to moan loudly and throw your head back.

his fingers immediately withdrew. he smacked your pussy in punishment, bringing your eyes back to him.

“eyes on me.”

you nodded again, eyes wide.

“nuh uh, words.”

“yes, sir.”

his eyes darkened and he sucked in a breath. you clearly unlocked something, something he was holding back.

his fingers entered in you again, faster this time. you gasped but kept your eyes locked on his. he started moving them in and out of you slowly, slightly curling them into your spot. you moaned loudly, the feeling taking over your entire body, but fought to keep your eyes on his.

he noticed your effort and rewarded you with a, “good girl.”

he started to go faster, and you were trying your hardest not to lose it. he was right, he would only need a few minutes. you were getting closer, eyes threatening to flutter closed. you were right there, his fingers curling into you hard. you were about to…

he pulled his fingers out of you.

you sighed in frustration, “jake, what the fuck?”

he smirked in satisfaction, “seems like you forgot i’m an asshole.”

you made an upset pout face. he laughed at you, tugging down his black sweatpants and releasing himself.

you couldn’t not stare. he looked so delicious. your eyes, still tinted with anger, flicked up to his.

“come on, baby”, he cooed, “i’ll make it up to you. ride me.”

you reached down to grab him and he gasped softly. he was so hard. fuck, you needed him bad.

you lined him up to your entrance, and slowly sunk down on him.

you both moaned loudly, and you were grateful that you were in a soundproof studio.

at first, jake’s hands moved to your hips and guided you up and down. once you had a rhythm he let go, “fuck, show me how much you want it.”

you were speechless. his mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you grinded on him, head falling back in ecstasy. you put your hands on his shoulders for leverage and rode him faster.

his dick was perfect, hitting all the right spots in you. his head came back up, and he saw that your boobs were bouncing as you rode him. he grabbed them both, massaging them and moaning. he took one of your nipples in his mouth and twirled his tongue around the sensitive bud.

you could barely breathe, lost in the pleasure. he moaned especially loud against your chest when you tightened around him, trying to reach your peak.

he met your eyes again, and damn did you love the view. his own eyes were laced with lust and his expression was devilish to say the least.

“fucking come for me”, he panted.

you did, throwing your head back and gasping. you were shaking from how intense it was, and that only made jake get closer.

he snatched your hips quickly and fucked you harder. he grunted as he finally came inside you, his head falling to your shoulder.

the only sound in the room was you both panting. after a moment, you nudged his face up to look at you and kissed him softly on his lips.

he smiled and glanced at the clock on the front wall of the studio, “15 minutes. see, i’m great at quickies.”

you laughed, “good to know.” then a question creeped into your mind, one you wanted to ask when you first came in this room.

“do you ever sing in your band’s songs?”

“no, why?”

you shrugged, “I heard you singing and I think you have a great voice. you don’t even sing backup vocals?”

he shook his head, “nope. I leave all that up to josh so I can focus on melting everyone’s faces off with my guitar.”

you smiled, “is that so?”

he nodded.

after a minute of comfortable small talk, you finally lifted off of him and made your way to his bathroom. you cleaned up with a washcloth and then went back and cleaned him too.

you walked back to the bedroom to collect your clothes, grabbing your pants and shirt off the floor. you pulled them on, it was just enough to walk to your apartment. the walk of shame.

you put your phone in your pants pocket and took in your appearance from the mirror on his wall. you had a certain look about you, it reminded you of how jake looked all the time; a look that oozed desire. he was rubbing off on you, you thought. just then, he walked in and stood behind you, brushing your shoulders as he looked at you in the mirror.

“gorgeous”, he whispered in your ear.

you scoffed, shaking your head, “jake, I have to go now.”

he backed away and grumbled, “fine.”

he followed you to the front door and mentioned, “I put my number in your phone last night. text me after the interview and let me know how it went.”

you grinned at him and opened the door, “you put your number in my phone while I was asleep? wow, what a weirdo.”

he mocked a laugh as you made your way into the hallway, “ha ha ha. I better get a text.”

you smirked, reaching for the door handle and whispering, “yes, sir”, before closing the door on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you raced into the shower and started to wash your hair.

midway through, the door to the bathroom opened and kaylee poked her head inside the shower, “rough night, huh?”

you giggled and lathered your body, “shut up.”

“how was heeee? as your best friend, you have to tell me. it’s the law.”

“he”, you began, “was… I mean… he felt… I don’t…”

kaylees mouth opened in shock, “he left you speechless?!”

you laughed and nodded.

“lucky fucking duck”, she shook her head. “hey, but I was right. you needed that dick, girl.” she put her hands up, “i’m always right.”

“kaylee”, you laughed, “I got an interview at CMA.”

she jumped, looking at you in excitement, “oh my god!!! today?” you nodded.

she shook her hands excitedly, “oh, i’m so happy for you!!! hurry up and go!!”

she left you to finish and you tried to hurry.

after the shower, you got dressed and put on a little bit of makeup. you were ready to go just in time, with 30 minutes to spare for the drive over.

you told kaylee bye as you were walking out.

“show them how much of a bad bitch you are!”, she yelled out at you.

as you drove to CMA’s office building, you thought about this last week. the rollercoaster it had been, with plenty of ups and downs. but even still, you were still standing. standing tall, too. and as much as kaylee, and jake now too, helped you, you got this success through your own hard work. you really were proud of yourself for making it this far.

you pulled up to the building, parked, and got out of your car to take in the massive feat of architecture with dozens of floors.

it was intimidating. but you knew that this was what you wanted.

you were gonna go for what you wanted; what you knew you could get; what you knew you deserved.

walking inside was relieving, bits of color were spread all around the room. artwork adorned almost every wall and the company’s logo shone on the back wall above the receptionist.

you walked up to him, smiling, “hello. i’m here for my interview.”

he looked up and smiled too, “oh, yes of course. they’re ready for you now. follow me.”

he got up and led you down a large hallway with stained glass windows. they allowed colored light to enter the space and flood it with a heavenly feeling.

you were already in love with this place.

you approached a large office on the end of the hall. the receptionist opened the door for you and you thanked him.

a woman sat at the large wooden desk in the room, but when you entered she stood and held out her hand to shake.

“hello! my name is barbara and i’ll be conducting your interview today.”

you smiled and shook her hand.

she looked down at the frilly sleeves on your shoulders and added, “I love your outfit.”

you thanked her, feeling light as air. you had chosen a baby blue blouse, a white skirt, and little white heels for your attire. you were definitely not regretting it now.

you sat across from her and, while she relaxed back in her chair, you said a small prayer of luck. your nerves were still on high alert.

“so”, barbara began, “how do you feel today?”

you were a little taken aback. that wasn’t exactly a common question an interviewer would ask. it was sweet. like she really cared about me before we had even really met.

you chuckled, “um, I feel great. i’ve been excited ever since I got the call this morning that y’all wanted to interview me.”

she smiled, “i’m very happy to hear that.”

she continued the interview, asking about your strengths and what you would do with this job.

“ok”, she clicked her pen, “final question.”

you sat up a little straighter, preparing yourself.

“why do you want to work here? what about CMA attracts you?”

you took a breath and made eye contact with her.

“CMA speaks to my soul. the creative freedom and power you give to your clients and employees is outstanding. I love the passion that is incorporated into every project that y’all do. I love that this company is just bursting with life and love. I want to be a part of that love.”

she watched you for a moment, earnestly.

“then, I think we’re done here”, she stood and reached out her hand again.

you took it, a little scared that your answer was too passionate because of the unreadable look on her face.

you took your purse and turned to leave.

“one more question before you go”, she added.

you looked back at her, “yes?”

“when can you start?”

• • •

nothing but happiness in this chapter? yes please!!!

tag list: @gvfpal @hollyco @piratejakesgf @sunandthemoontwinflames @kiszkas-canvas @jjwasneverhere @anythingforjtk

[carta-velina]

This is not it. Boycott, use the anger and uneasiness towards pressuring institutions, informing those around you and donating.

Sending hate mail, cancelling and harassing a singer and expecting some apologies from them will do nothing if not make you feel better about yourselves - nothing good for the Palestinians will come out of it

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, stalking, death of nameless character

gn reader

Thinking about Gojo bumping into you on his way to buy sweets and getting mortified when sensing how you pass through his infinity like it isn’t even there – touching him hands-first like it’s only normal.

And the way you look at him, all spluttering apologies – without a single clue – how you quickly walk away like it was no bigger deal than mildly embarrassing.

And he’s left there, stunned and stuck to the ground he stood on, suddenly feeling stripped naked.

He had to follow you – naturally. Can’t let the biggest threat to his life just walk around unsupervised. Obviously, he has to keep tabs on you now – every single day – your constant whereabouts, where you work and study and loiter and live, and who you communicate with.

It’s all platonic at first – nothing romantic. He’s stalking you, but it’s for safety reasons. There’s no telling who’d potentially find out about your dormant technique and use it against him.

But keeping his six eyes on you every hour he could spare all day and night of every week, eventually, he can't stop himself from starting to see you as something more than just a threat…

He's not blind to it either – he feels the change in the pit of his stomach – in his heart – in his balls even.

He blushes when you take your clothes off to go shower – needs to swallow thickly, watching you walk about your apartment dressed only in undies and a comfy T – smiles when seeing you dance around to music he can’t hear from where he’s perched on the rooftop on the neighboring building – tugs on his cock to the sight of you touching yourself, trying to time his climax to yours.

He’s not watching you for the right reasons anymore… he knows that, but he just can’t seem to stop.

You’re so normal, he’s obsessed with you. So addictive in your mundane routines. Messy notes, chewing your pen when scrambling for an exam – making another easy-fix dinner – picking up the same hoodie from the floor before throwing yourself out the door to go work your minimum wage job – coming home late only to collapse on the sofa with a random episode of some dumb sitcom playing on the TV.

He wants to be your boyfriend – imagines himself going to your school and sitting next to you in the lecture hall, studying together at cafes, watching movies in bed, wearing his varsity jacket, squeezing your ass as you ride him in someone else's bedroom at a party that got way out of hand, cumming on your face and apologizing for it when you give him head on his birthday.

He’s teetering on thirty and has killed more than he can count – both curses and humans – and here he is – fantasizing about having a college sweetheart who doesn’t even know his name…

It would be healthy for him to stop – he knows that, knows it’s becoming dangerous – but he thinks it might be too late now – all he does is try and get closer…

He thinks about enrolling in one of your classes, thinks about moving into your apartment complex, and then he thinks about taking you.

He’s watching you have a nightcap with a boy he thinks he recognizes from your class – you’re both drunk and it’s obvious where things are going...

There’s a devil and an angel sitting on his shoulders, whispering in his ear – but he can't tell which one’s which anymore. One is telling him to leave – to allow you some privacy... but the other tells him to barge in – to crash through the window and rip the guy’s head off by the scruff of his chin.

There’d be blood on his hands, but at least he’d finally be able to touch you…

He glues his hands together – tries thinking clearly – but closing his eyes only results in seeing you gasping and moaning while getting fucked by someone else and it makes him feel like he’s about to lose his shit.

He performs the rituals with his fingers without even noticing – making the hand gestures – his breathing thick before he mouths the words beneath his breath. “Infinite Void…”

You don’t know what’s happening – you’re drunk and unsure if you should be dialing nine-one-one or an ambulance. The guy you’re with is having a seizure, frothing at the mouth and spasming on the floor until suddenly falling limp.

Your breathing is sharp. You think he’s dead. You throw up. The shock makes the tears stop for a brief moment before you start hyperventilating, crying harder.

You’re shaking, and it’s hard holding the phone still – let alone dial any number. Before you can, there’s a knock on the door.

You’re not thinking clearly, naked and wrapped in just a thin sheet as you rush to greet the sound. You don’t recognize the man, but for some reason, you’re spilling your guts to him anyway – rambling about the dead guy in your bedroom.

You’re panicked, and it only takes a curt minute before you’re throwing yourself at him – hugging him tightly – your hands ice-cold on his neck, skin-to-skin without any respect to his infinity – latching onto him for dear life as if you know exactly who he is and how much he loves you.

But of course, you don’t...

You’re just in shock – having just witnessed a boy die. Completely clueless as to how the man you were clinging to so desperately was going to take you back into that bedroom where that boy was lying and do to you what he was going to do before he killed him.

[babygirl-riley]

Welcome Home

You surprise Simon at the base instead of being at home. You also think about how far he has come to acceptance.

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, fluff, dad!simon, angst, pregnancy

“I’ve fallen for it, I’ve fallen for it somehow.”

A/N: THE PART TWO DAD!SIMON FROM @ave661 IS KILLLINGGGG ME! Seriously chokehold she has me in ALL the time with her art. 😭

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

You called Price beforehand, asked him if it was alright to surprise Simon. You wanted to show up at the base with your baby girl waiting for him. Like you always do. Thankfully and full heartedly he agreed, he even added that he is excited to see his niece. On the way to the base you felt excitement as you played music for both you and your baby.

Your baby gabbles as she plays with hanging baby toys on her car seat. Simon has been gone for a month, it has been so long and you were so excited. He missed having her first tooth, which he will be so excited to see.

Once you got you and your child out of the car you headed to the inside of the base. “141 will be landing in 5 minutes ma’am.” A man said guiding you to the tarmac. “Captain Price said to meet them there.”

You followed the solider to the direction of the tarmac. You knew very well where it was at, a year ago you were on the team for 141 but decided to retire once you found out you were pregnant. Memories littered the hallways as you held your baby close.

“No.” He mumbled as you both stood in your room. He didn’t move for a moment, you thought he was going to leave and not come back for hours. Simon doesn’t do well with emotions but the last couple of months, he has been able to open up more. Now this. You didn’t know how he was going to react let alone what he was going to do.

It was clear, two lines, one word, 6 tests. You and Simon have been in secret for 2 years, established a relationship in a year. You played with your hands as nerves started to kick in. “I thought you were on birth control.” Simon said looking up at you, his eyes only to be shown. The skull mask looking at you.

“I am.” You said your heart slowly hurting, you knew that he never wanted a kid. You knew of his past so this was a joke for the both of you. It was frowned upon when a lieutenant would be sleeping with their sergeant. Hell damn near court marshaled.

Simon looked back down at the tests. He can’t. He won’t. His mind racing a million miles an hour. How could he explain this one to Price? How could you hide a belly on the force? Is there a way for it to be a secret anymore? He cursed himself for loving the fact that he could breed you. It was a new found kink, with him thinking of his cum coating your walls. Simon never broadcast it to you. Telling you that seeing a belly got him feral, thinking about how your body would react to his gift. But…It’s just…is it too soon? Was he ready? Surely he couldn’t be.

“I can get…”

“No,” He cut you off before looking up at you. “This…Not that. ‘M,” his voice trailed. No abortion, he won’t put your body through hell just because both of you didn’t want to wrap it. “I just-I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either,” You whispered walking slowly up to him. “But we can figure this out?”

Simon nodded once still looking at the tests. You waited as he stood there and sighed. “We have to tell Price now.”

“Here is the tarmac,” The solider said breaking you from your thoughts. “It looks like they have just landed.”

You mumbled a thank you as soldiers came out one by one from the plane. All covered in dirt or blood, tired written on their faces. You frowned knowing that Simon felt the same, it couldn’t have gone the way it suppose to.

You smiled as you walked out watching Gaz come out first, happy surprise on his face. He looked to the side of him to see Soap, who smiled at you nodded. Price smiled, heading towards the direction you were before stopping. Simon, walked out last, almost stopped in his tracks.

Smile beaming on his face underneath the skull mask. His girls. He be-lined to you and your baby girl. His heart beating quickly, as excitement coursed through his veins.

Price stood as both of his teammates broke the news. He had his suspicions of them fucking around but not together. He itches his beard as your tears start to mellow out. Simon was not looking at him but folding his arms while leaning against the wall.

It was like two of his kids came home after school to get hounded at. It was amusing if Price wasn’t angry. Yes. He was at first, his lieutenant and his best sniper in a bit of a bind. She has to be discharged no way will Price NOR Simon let her go out in the field. Especially since they voiced they are keeping the kid.

“We keep it low,” Price finally spoke watched as both of you looked up. “We have to slowly discharge you, not try to have eyes on the situation until then. No missions for you.”

You nodded, first time every has he seen you so shy. Timid. Usually you had confidence written all over you. “Yes sir.” You mumbled looking away.

Price looked at Simon. “I want to have a discussion with you,” He looked at you as you stared at him. You both are young, younger than him anyway. He seen how Simon’s demeanor changed throughout the years when you came on the force. Of course no one else saw it, but Price did. He always knew. “Dismissed Sargent.”

Your baby squealed with delight as she bounced in your arms. “Da! Da!” She yelled as Simon walked over, having heads turn to see the little baby showed her excitement. Simon did take note that she knew who he was and in fact used ‘dada.’

Simon almost damn near sprinted as he walked up to both of you. You let him take your baby as he grabbed her, she screamed laughed, as he rose her to the air. Holding her sides gently but firm. She is so tiny compared to him, she kicked her feet softly in the air, laughing her little head off. Simon loves that sound, the sound of pure joy coming from her. To the point he didn’t give a damn who was around them. Simon was never a shower when it came to his private life, but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was.

Simon sat across the table from you, your bump more noticeable, 6 months to be exact. He still couldn’t believe that what was growing inside you was his. Part of him. Something that he would have never thought would be done. Or have. You have become more aware and accepting of having the child. Yet he still hasn’t.

“I know it will take time Si,” You said knowing always what he was thinking. Simon snapped his eyes up at you, he felt guilt for sure. You were just honorable discharged and he stayed in the force. “I can’t make you feel happy about this. But…But I know eventually you will.”

He didn’t believe you until one night he laid between your legs as you rubbed the back of his head. Simon chuckled lightly at the tv show you were both watching right when it happened,felt a small poke to his head, he froze, you felt him tense. “What…what that?”

You giggled lowly as you rubbed your belly. “It’s the baby,” He still didn’t move when he felt it again. “She moves a lot when you make any sort of noise.” Simon rose slightly, looking up at you, curiously. You grabbed his hand and placed it where she was. His eyes trained on his hand. “Say something.” You whispered.

Simon looked at you unsure before clearing his throat. “Uh, hello baby girl.” It took a second before he felt the bump move to his hand. A soft graze. He snapped his eyes up at you and tears brimming your eyes, nodding. Encouraging him to continue. Simon’s eyes started to water, everything hitting, even when she isn’t out here she was wanting him. Knowing that he is her dad. And she was his baby.

His hand rubbed your belly. “‘Ight ass kicker. I’m happy to hear ya too.”

“Hello my angels,” He said as slowly held her close to him. Her head cradled inside of his neck. Her hands gripping his uniform. He placed a hand on the back of her hand holding her close. You smiled as he placed his other gloved hand on your cheek. “Why ya ‘ere?”

“I couldn’t wait at home,” You stated as people passed the both of you. “She couldn’t either,” you bumped your shoulder against his. “Told you it was dada.” You teased talking about the last time you both were on the phone. Her screaming ‘da da da,’ knowing damn well it was her daddy on the phone. Simon would tease and say that she got your intelligence since she was only 5 months.

Simon chuckled rolling his eyes, turning his head as she rose from his shoulder. She started towards his skull mask gripping the bottom of it. “Not yet sweethear,’” he whispered gently grabbing her hands. “We are gonna debrief it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Lass,” You laughed as the scottish came up from behind Simon. Slapping his back. “Oh well hello little miss.” He scratched softly underneath her chin. She laughed again shaking her head as she clung onto her dad. “Yer playing hard to get now?” He teased and looked at you.

“Hey Johnny,” You laughed reaching for your baby. She came to you with ease, which you mentally sighed in relief, hoping that she wouldn’t ball her little eyes out when she watched her dad leave. “We will wait on the cafeteria.”

Simon placed his forehead against yours. “It will be quick.” He whispered.

You nodded as you watched them all file into the base. Your baby holding onto you cooing. “Why don’t you ever get that excited to see me,” You playfully glared poking her stomach. She giggled swatting your finger away. “Brat.” You laughed taking her and you to the cafeteria.

[cherry-leclerc]

pride ☆ mv1

genre: smut, established relationship, stubborn!max, jealous!max, humor, fluff

word count: 3k

After his DNF, Max finds himself losing his temper when you keep insisting that it was his fault. Due to both ends, you find yourself in a constant battle on who can admit defeat first.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... gym sex - that's all teheee

req!...super fun to write, thank u, anon for the idea !!

He never liked to be pointed out as the one who did something wrong on track. Then again, he rarely ever made those types of mistakes. Max got along with everyone on the grid, but he was there to win. And he certainly did not need his girlfriend reminding him that he’s human, just like the rest of the drivers.

“Just admit it already, you fucked up this time. You cut him off.”

A DNF was as bad as it could get, his mood quickly deteriorated as he bangs his helmet against the wall. If you weren’t used to his dark behavior, then you would have definitely worried. Instead, you tap your foot impatiently with a deep sigh, eyes rolling with strong annoyance. You didn’t like to see him like this, but it drove you crazy that he could never own up to his wrongdoings. 

The Dutch harshly rips off his balaclava, dirty blond hair sticking against his angry face, normally baby blue eyes switching to a devilish color. “You’re such a…” A deep growl. “He cut me off, and that’s what got us both out of the race. What a fucking dick.”

Your brow raises up, pointing at him with accusement. “My thoughts exactly.” Turning on your heel, you spin around and walk out of his driver's room, leaving him to sulk like a manchild. Stupid, Lando.

As soon as the race ends, you sheepishly make your way to the young Brit. “Is he mad?” he asks. You shrug as if you care about what your boyfriend is feeling at this very moment. Max wasn’t the kind to get mad, he got furious. 

“He’ll get over it. Though I do suggest you run the opposite way if you spot him.” He laughs, eyes crinkling with agreement. After apologizing on behalf of the grumpy Dutchman, you hurry off to find him. Propped up against the door frame, you nervously play with the hem of your dress as you inch your way closer. You can practically see the color red blooming out of him as he smiles bitterly.

“And where were you?” His voice expands softly, it makes your stomach churn, but you put on a brave face nonetheless, refusing to give in to his ego. It doesn’t matter. He chuckles, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, head shaking in disapproval. “Aren’t I the one you should be consoling? I don’t see why you had to go see him.”

Your eyebrows narrow down sharply. “Max, you’re being a fucking baby, you caused the crash! Lando was just unlucky and I went to let him know, is that so wrong?”

The Dutch fumes, jaw clenching. “You can go see him, I don’t give a fuck, but stop saying it was my fault. He closed in on me.” You scoff, arms crossed. “This is pure bullshit.”

“Whatever, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m glad you’re alright,” you sourly say, pushing past him to go and retrieve your things, getting ready to leave back to the hotel. His nose twitches, following after you. Neither of you utter a single word, simply packing and strolling out the door. As soon as the media gets involved and Lando walks by with a shy smile and wave, he instinctively grabs your hand, leading you through the tight crowd with a bright smile, despite his crash. 

Setting aside your differences, you’re grateful for his sweet gesture, even if it laces with a bit of possessiveness. The drive is tense, only the sound of the blinker being heard. You try adding some music, but as soon as he turns off the radio, you turn to him, hair slapping your flushed face. “Why did you do that?” Your hand slides back up, turning it on. He repeats his same actions, leaving you to burn lasers to the side of his head. 

“Your music is complete shit.” Surprised by his cold tone, your right eye twitches like a crazy person before turning your attention back towards the road. He feels bad. He’s not mad at you, not even at his friend. But he wasn’t the biggest fan of letting his team down, and much less, owning up to it. 

Pushing the door open, you march in, making your way to the bathroom, ready to shower off the irritation. Max trails after you without a second thought, then you slam the door right on his face. He blinks. He can hear you turning the water on, stripping down. “You’re taking a shower by yourself this time, you dickhead.”

-

The next few races run smoother as he finishes in first place for most of them. All of them, actually. But his wins aren’t worth it in the end. Not with your rigid congratulations, forced kisses as you wait for him along with a puddle of photographers. It shouldn’t strike him as strange; you were still upset. For a second, he considers putting his pride aside and try to fix things, make amends, but when you mumble next to him, he quickly throws that out the window. 

“Baby finally got fed his bottle.”

All his pent up emotions came rushing back as you wear an innocent smile. With a sullen glare, he walks out, leaving you to gloat. Two can play that game. 

Here’s the thing with yours and Max's relationship; it was amazing. A fucking dream. You loved each other like crazy, but when you both get into an argument, it can drag out for the longest time. Your friends had pointed it out countless times, accusing you two for being freakishly stubborn. Oftentimes, he’d be the first to give up and apologize, and sometimes it was you. Only this time, it looked like a long haul. 

It was a weird dynamic. He still kissed you goodbye, reminded you how much he loved you. You still attended his races, glowed with sincere happiness for every podium of his, but apart from that, you two still held on to your end of the rope. And it’s been so long. One month? Maybe two?

“Four fucking months,” Max grunts, large hands fixing his drinking straw that connects to his suit. The Dutch is clearly frustrated, Checo could tell as he warily eyes his teammate. The Mexican driver poured out an amused chuckle. Max curls a dark brow. “What?”

Checo halts. “Nothing, man. You’re just being so…how do I put this nicely?” He clicks his fingers enthusiastically. “You’re acting like a douchebag. Puras pendejadas, lo que estás haciendo.” The blue eyed boy shakes his head.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He walks away.

“It means you’re doing stupid shit for absolutely no reason. Take it from me, I’m married! I know what I’m talking about, and as your elder, I suggest apologizing. It’ll fix everything, trust me.” But Max only ignores him, already climbing into his car. As much as he would love to try and make things right with the woman he adores like a complete idiot, there’s always something that ruins it. Whether it’s you witty reminders, or your cruel ignorance.

Though, he feels like he’s going crazy. He can feel his hands itch as they beg to hug you the way they were used to. Or to kiss your plump lips, slightly red from your constant nibbles. You can feel his eyes on you as you cut up a group of vegetables, getting things ready for dinner. Like a tease, you bend down to pick up the bag of carrots that had just fallen. You giggle. “Whoops.”

Abruptly, he stands up. “I’m going to get in a small workout before we eat.” That’s all. Left there with your jaw on the floor, you slam the knife against the cutting board. 

You missed him. You’d be insane not to. You missed cuddling with him after a long day. You missed the way he would cradle your face to kiss you eagerly after every win. Now it’s almost as if you’re a couple of strangers with the way he keeps a careful distance. And if he wasn’t going to fix things, then you would force him to.

He hears you before he actually sees you. Not a single word escapes past your lips as you skip closer. His molars grind together when he notices your tiny skirt, paired with a tank top. Perky tits salute him as he holds back a groan. Smiling sweetly, you start to stretch. “Thought I’d join you. Didn’t want to eat without you.”

His heart squeezes, ghostly nodding. Adjusting himself on the bench, he starts his set of overhead presses. Loopy eyes circle his glistening muscles as he pants tiredly, shaky breaths bouncing off of him. You have to physically stop yourself from drooling an entire ocean. 

The blue eyed boy leads an impressive set, a thin layer of sweat coating him like a blanket. One you would gladly roll around in. Pursing your lips, your limbs feel extremely weak all of a sudden and decide to settle with laying down and bringing your legs up, skirt sliding down, exposing your soft skin. 

“So tight,” you whine when you reach up, muscles tied up in an uncomfortable spot. Intrigued, your boyfriend takes a peek and instantly curses, large hands gripping against the metal bar. He gulps. “Maxie, can you push my legs back for me?”

His breath hitches. “No. I’m sure you can do that yourself.”

Sitting up straight, you squint your beady eyes at him as he distracts himself by adding more weight to his set. You click your tongue, a menacing grin tugging at your pink lips. “Messed up, baby, you are messed up.”

Max curses himself for falling in love with someone as beautiful as you. It seriously messed him up a concerning amount. Suddenly there was no more cold demeanor when it came to you. That simply just belonged to the rest because you were everything to him.

“First, you’re too much of a pussy to admit your mistakes and now you’re too scared to get near me?” You scoff. “It’s all starting to add up.”

Except at this very moment.  

“And what exactly is that? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Kneeling down onto the black mat, you stretch your arms out against it, and lay your back flat. You hum. “Oh.” You arch your back, ass angling upwards where his eyes quickly trace to. You smirk. “Nothing.”

If he weren’t so impressed by your bratty act, he would have definitely walked out on you. But you just looked so pretty, rosy, and you were glistening. He wonders what else there was on top of that. The Dutch moves on to a bench press. Huffing, he grits his teeth as he extends his arm before puffing and bringing them back down.

The 26 year old, despite your attempts, was as focused as he could possibly be. The adrenaline was lingering in his entire system as he kept his eyes trained upward. Chest locking tightly, muscles contracting. And then he hears it. Your tiny moans, soft whimpers.

The loud sound of him dropping the weight makes you jump up a bit before looking up. He finds you in your first position you had started with when you first stepped foot into the home gym. He can feel his cock press harshly against his white shorts. “Why are you…” He trails off when your mouth drops open, brows scrunching together. Your thighs beg to be kissed. Slippery arms tug your legs closer to you as you giggle. 

“My legs are too tight.” His chest tightens. “Help me get more flexible?” you press innocently as you signal for him to push your legs. “Please, Maxie.”

Sighing, he nods. As soon as he steps close to you, he can feel your pouring lust, fuck me eyes staring back up at his frame. Grabbing the heels of your feet, he pushes back as you groan. “Oh shit.” You laugh, chest vibrating against the mat. “I really needed the extra push.”

He grimaces. A silence lingers between you two before you wiggle your left foot against his palm. He raises a confused brow. I’m going to tuck it to my chest. Just hold the right one. Doing as instructed, you sigh in relief, lashes fluttering. He holds back a much needed grunt. “You’re telling me you couldn’t do this yourself?”

You nip the air. “We’re not all professional athletes, Max. I needed you.”

You can see how hard your implication is hitting him as his gaze darkens. And just as he’s about to reach out for you, you wiggle your brows. Next leg. Snapping out of trance, he eyes the way your skirt rides down your skin. In a swift movement, he lets go and takes a staggered step back. You grin. What’s wrong?

“You’re crazy.”

Standing up, you place both hands on your waist. “Why?”

Max doesn’t even recall when he pins you against the wall, your hair flying from the impactful blow, and yet, you’re smirking. Kissing you harshly, you groan, leaning against your tippy toes as you struggle to breath. He seems to be lost in your lips as he cradles your face, teeth clashing against yours at the filthy action. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, blues staring back. “So fucking beautiful.”

Whimpering, you reach back out for him, plump lips attacking his thick neck as he sighs. The purple bruises were definitely something he would hound you on tomorrow, but for now that was the least of his worries. Admiring the colorful spot, you lick it slowly. He shudders. 

“I can suck something else, you know?”

You almost don’t recognize his growl, for you haven’t heard it in so long, that it catches you by surprise as he spins you around, bending you over the nearest counter, where his wall of protein stands. He hitches your skirt up as you gasp when his fingers slide inside of you. The way he stretches you out makes you see stars as you struggle to keep upward. 

“Wore this just for me, right? You knew it would drive me crazy?” His long fingers curl at the perfect angle as you nod. Yes, yes. I wore it just for you. I knew you’d like it. You squeal when he lifts you up, tits pressing against the cold marble, legs dangling like a doll. His doll. He watches the way you swallow his digits. “I fucking love it, baby…”

Then, he’s down on his knees as he wraps his lips around your clit. Moaning loudly, you press your cheek against the cool tiles, saliva dripping out of your mouth at the sensation. In your fucked up state, you still reach out for him as he grabs your hand. “You taste so sweet,” he hums. You’re close to crying when he pulls away, but calm down when he thrusts into you. 

The Dutch throws his head back as soon as your velvety walls wrap around his cock, the way you swallow him whole. Makes him hate himself for holding onto his pride for so long. For keeping you away. His heart races when you prop yourself on your elbows as stare back at him with tired, lustful eyes. He grins, slapping your ass as you yelp. You ass tilts up as he watches you struggle to keep up. 

Warm hands come up to keep you close to him as you bite down on your lip. “You’re a fucking brat, but God, I hate it because you were right. I pushed him off. I did, I did, I did…” His dirty hair sticks against his face as you bounce forward with every pound. “But he was making you laugh - smile - and I just couldn’t handle that.”

Your heart stops. This was news to you because there was no way the Max you knew so well would break his winning streak all due to a friendly encounter. He pecks your bare shoulder. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you.”

“Then show me.”

WIth that, he holds onto your hips with more grip as his tip brushes repeatedly against your g-spot. You’re a mess, but he’s loving every second of it. As soon as he wraps a large hand around your breast, you’re gone, spluttering white all around him as he follows. With a croaky groan, he slips out as you fall back to your original spot. He chuckles. He fixes your skirt before helping you sit up to face him. Your eyes crinkle. 

“You love me,” you say in a sing-song voice as you poke his dimple. I thought I made that clear. You scrunch your nose, pecking his face all over with sloppy kisses. He playfully winces, but accepts nonetheless. “You love me, love me. Why would you ever worry about me and Lando? You know he’s just a friend.”

His smile drops as it's replaced with a scowl. “I wasn’t worried, per se. I don’t like someone else making you laugh. That’s my job.”

Your brows arch. “What are you suggesting? That I just keep mute for the rest of my days, unless I’m with you?”

Max shrugs. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

You smack his chest as he throws his head back with laughter. “No. Not a solid anything. Max, I love you.”

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Okay,” you confirm, fixing your posture, lips pursing. “But please never do that again, that’s just plain out dangerous and crazy. A big no-no, Emilian.” He glares and your lips wobble childishly. “You love wins, and I love celebrating them with you. It just works.”

“You know what doesn’t work?” he retorts as he hugs you. You hum, comfortable against his warmness. “Not talking to me for four months, what were you thinking?” You push him away abruptly. We spoke! “But we didn’t fuck, and that’s the same thing.”

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes as he stares back in awe. “If you keep this up then I’m going to crank it up to eight,” you threaten. 

The Dutch nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck before you cave in. “Let’s not do that. You’d be breaking my heart.”

taglist: @myownwritings @d3kstar @crucifiedbitch

*note: i've only tagged those who asked to be included in general. i've kept that apart from the method acting series taglist!! lmk in which you would like to be, just in case!

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。and my body keeps saying (it's yours) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo thinks this is different, new, almost like it’s the first time for everything.

contains: f!reader in mind but no specifics are mentioned, 18+/mature/soft-slight n*ft/w, sex with feelings (it’s really just vanilla tho!), first time!, there’s an awkward bit but that’s intentional!, lots of nervous feelings! but also lots of intimacy!

a/n: for nonie.🫧 who asked about what it would be like for their first time! title is inspired by an emotional oranges song, devotion (which i used as music inspo for the entire fic too + troye sivan, what a heavenly way to die). this is also my first time writing anything close to n*fw so please be kind! idk if i’ll ever write one again; takes place between tell me about love (show me how) and so this is what it means to be in love!

collection masterlist: conversations on love 02. tell me about love (show me how) <- you are here -> +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

It’s a touch—

—fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw, trailing down his neck, lightly, delicately.

Gojo kisses you beneath the glow of your bathroom lights and he twitches, just a little bit. 

“Sorry,” you stop, attempting to pull away from him immediately. 

His neck is sensitive, always has been since Toji. The mark has faded over the years; what used to be a line running through the shadow of his jawline is now nothing, but you know the feeling lingers, still. You’ve tried to avoid the area as much as you could—while sparring, hugging, kissing; holding him in moments as intimate as this. But sometimes, your fingers slip, and he jolts, so you move away, apologetic—

And he wishes that you didn’t, wishes that he didn’t have to react that way when all he really wants is for you to hold him like this.

He stares at you now, lips puffed and kiss-bitten, and thinks, he shouldn’t even be here—

—at 2:00 a.m., in your apartment, fresh out of a three-day assignment he caught the last train for, just to see you. 

He shouldn’t even be here, bone-tired in a black t-shirt and track pants he couldn’t be bothered with—there just wasn’t enough time to change out of it. 

And he really shouldn't even be here, except, he cut the assignment two days short, rushed through it, restless, eager at the thought of getting back soon. 

All because he missed you. 

Gojo keeps you close, his fingers splayed on the base of your spine, warm and pressing. You can’t read him, his next move, but his eyes hold lightning crackling. He takes your hand and guides it back to where he’s weakest, underneath his jaw, on his neck—healed skin and tissue, his lifeline to you.

“Keep it,” he murmurs, eyes piercing. 

He still twitches when you touch his skin, but it’s always been involuntary. You should know that it could never be because of you, your hands that hold every good thing his heart carries. 

You lean in first, tiptoeing, nudging his nose with yours and your lips hovering. His pulse point rests beneath your fingertips—can you feel how fast it’s beating? Just from having you near him? 

The tips of his hair tickle your forehead and he swallows, throat bobbing. It’s impossible to resist him when he’s this boyish, this charming, so you kiss his lips once, before pulling away, teasing. He bites his lips, red blooming against pink, and you don’t know exactly what you’re anticipating—

But he leans in. 

When you kiss again, the feeling is familiar, a memory of trembling lips and shaky breaths by a bathroom door that isn’t yours. He doesn’t tremble anymore, isn’t as stiff when he has your lips memorized among many other things, but Gojo still flushes the same way your cheeks heat up and your breaths intermingle at the same rate your hearts race.  

You follow where the lights have diffused into your hallway, this dance with him a push-and-pull you’ve done a few times before. He keeps his palm flat on your lower back, pushing you closer, while pulling you towards your bedroom door.  

His hands slide to your waist, dipping you, grip tightening as you bite his lips, tugging. He moans softly, voice low when your hands rake through his hair, the vibrations rippling through your mouth. Your fingers grasp at the short strands of hair at the back of his head, sighing when his lips are released from yours. 

There’s a moment where you catch his eyes, pupils blown a dangerous blue—a sky swallowing you whole before he begins trailing kisses down your neck, nips and licks evidence of just how greedy he is with you. 

A heat builds within you, rooted deep in your belly as you stay pressed against the outline on his crotch. 

It’s hard to imagine a time before all this, how he even struggled to hold your hand when he touches you now like this. 

You stumble over his feet as he backs into your bedroom, steadied only by his hold on you. You chuckle, a small ‘oops’, so sweet, as your collarbone clashes with his teeth. He smiles, lips curled against your skin as he teases, “So clumsy,” 

He’s kissed you this much before, has held you this tight, and touched you much more but this feeling between you now, he can tell—

Tonight is different. 

You lead him this time, to the edge of your bed as you keep him closer, hands all over him. When you lie down, lower lip caught between your teeth, you smile shyly but your eyes burn sinfully, and Gojo wonders if you know that this is what he sees when he’s dreaming. 

He moves closer, your mattress dipping as he hovers above you, arms caging the sides of your face. His head is spinning, eyes zeroing in on the skin exposed by the single button undone on your pajama top. 

When you cup his cheeks, thumb running across his swollen lips—

He thinks he might go crazy. 

You have no idea what you just did. 

He takes a breath before pressing every bit of his longing onto your neck, kissing, sucking, licking, imprinting proof that he was here, with you. It’s red and blotchy, situated right underneath your ear and it’s one too many but still not enough—for him, never enough.

You gasp, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and it’s overwhelming, this feeling. As quickly as it escalated, Gojo freezes, as if you’ve burned him, as if he’s caught up to what could possibly be happening, and it’s—

It’s a lot. 

He pulls away slowly, eyes wide and breath shaky. The air is thick, hot and heavy, and this—where this is going is something he’s never done before, not entirely. 

You sit up, alarmed, hands cradling his face carefully. His eyes are frantic, nervous, blinking at a pace that only makes you worried. 

“We can stop,” you mumble, lowering your hands to take his, gently.

He sees you, hair a mess, marked his, beautiful, and  he just wants to make sure—that you’re okay with this, that you want this, with him. Truly. 

“Do you want to?” he asks, a sky you could fall into, “Honestly.” 

He breathes out, staring. You gulp before shaking your head. “Do you?”  

And he doesn’t have to think much about it, really, because of course, he doesn’t want to stop. 

How could he, when it’s you?

He shakes his head too and you smile.

You squeeze his hand, guiding it to the buttons of your top, “Okay—”

“We’ve never…” he hesitates, trailing off.

It’s weird because it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before; you’ve both done things at the very least, just never all the way. And now, with the knowledge that that very fact is going to change—it feels different, new, like it’s the first time for everything. 

You nod, stroking his knuckles to reassure him, “You said you’re a fast learner, right?” 

The nervous laugh you give is oddly comforting, and he remembers that first kiss and the single thought that if he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

So he takes it—

—unbuttons your top one-by-one, and he’s a bit shaky, hands clammy, but he gets it off eventually. Then goes his shirt, and your shorts, his pants, a struggle to get past his ankles until you’re both bare, cheeks hot while giggling, like first loves—and maybe it is. 

Gojo sees you stripped down, uncovered, wholly you for the first time and thinks he could die. 

It’s vulnerable and strange as he hovers over you this time, skin-to-skin, but you fit together this way, just right. 

You giggle some more, unable to hide your nervousness. It’s a habit you have—laughing in inappropriate situations, but he thinks it’s cute, so he does it right back. 

Your fingers trace his eyebrows, down to his nose and cheeks, then to his lips, still red and bitten, “You’re so pretty, Satoru. Not fair.” 

He blushes, tips of his ears and neck flushing, “‘Course,” he kisses your nose, pulling away to get a good look at you.

“Have to be if I’m with you.” 

It’s cheesy, and you roll your eyes, laughing full-on but he smiles wider and it feels good knowing that he’ll forever get to share this moment with you. 

“I, uh,” he mumbles, trying to find the words, “have to prep.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” you move, hands reaching for him between you, but he catches your wrist before you touch him, stopping you. 

“Don’t,” he says, firm, face red as he looks straight at you. “I might not…” he doesn’t continue but you know what he means, so you nod, pulling away. 

His hand trails down your body, inching closer to where you need him to be, and it’s sweet you think, because he kisses your lips once before asking, “Can I?” as if he still has to.

You nod, before whispering, “Don’t ask next time.” 

Next time, you said and it rings, echoes in his head as a promise for more—that this is just the beginning. 

So he touches you, in every way he thinks you should be, in every way he knows you want to be. 

There’s a gasp, then a moan as he leaves another mark on your neck, and you’re so close when he stops. 

You whimper, but you know what’s next, and you see it in his eyes as he prepares himself, fingers discarding a square packet, “You’ll let me know?” he whispers, soft, concerned.

You’ll let me know if I hurt you? he means, and his eyes stare into yours, sincere. 

You nod, brushing your lips against his, and when you feel it—it’s unusual, maybe a bit uncomfortable but he’s there kissing it away. 

There’s an adjustment, a few awkward positions until he finds it, then he goes slow, rhythmic. Your sighs grow louder and he groans, withholding, then you say it—

“‘Toru,”

—by his ear, soft and breathy, and he’s gone, stilling and spilling, a part of him forever yours, irrevocably. 

thank you notes: to nonie.🫧 for asking about this in the first place, and to niku (@stellamancer) for emotional support and for reading this first!! + for helping me go over it!! i love u niku 😭

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[rinrinx2]

Their Ideal Type JJK Men

Summary: What acts you put on that gets them going in the bedroom.

Characters: Sukuna, Toji, Getou, Nanami

Warnings: Mature content, Smut

Sukuna

His type is the submissive type.

He likes a woman who’s desperate for him, that follows his every word but also shy enough to not be making demands in the bedroom.

He likes fucking you in doggy, seeing how much you arch your backs tells him how desperate you are to get fucked.

If you want him to go faster you better not tell him, the only way his going to go fast is by how loud you moan.

The louder the moans = the faster and deeper he goes.

His face will remain neutral while his fucking you the first round but once you cum is when his expression changes. Then his smiling like a mad man watching as you get overstimulated from his cock.

“What’s the tears princess?” He’ll laugh out sadistically.

Your cries of overstimulation are nothing but music to his ears, so don’t expect him to stop even if you give him the water works because the only liquid he wants to see is from what’s in between your legs.

“ Please, I can’t anymore” you beg out as you felt being stuffed for what was the fifth time.

“You better shut that mouth before I fill it as well”

Getou

His type is a woman who’s willing to serve and make him happy.

Similar to Sukuna he likes them submissive, but not to the extent that he needs to tell you everything.

You’re a big girl you know how to take cock, or that what Getou tells you.

Loves it when you put on a show for him.

Watching you strip down to sexy lingerie for him as you try your best to impress him.

And he is impressed, impressed enough to give you the reward of fucking you.

When he fucks you his moaning into your ear, he knows when you hear how needy he sounds your pussy tightens up just the way he likes.

“Ahh you’re so tight around my cock” he praises, feeling as you get tighter.

But once he gets tired his putting you on top, ready to ride and that’s when your submissive nature comes out, doing anything to make him happy.

“Just like that, feel my cock deep in your pussy baby”

Toji

His type is anyone that’s willing to do all the work.

Toji loves showing his dominance but at the same time he likes to take a break when it comes to pleasure.

So, he’ll let you take the wheel but he won’t let you get to cocky with it. His hands will remain on your hips helping you bounce up and down on his cock.

He loves watching the way your tits bounce up and down, with your nipples hard just inviting him to suck on them.

Loves the faces you make as his cock head hits against that spot making you see stars.

Is not the praising type at all, will say condescending things to motivate you.

“Come on princess, ride my cock like you mean” as he placed a loud smack in your ass.

And there’s something about that grin and the nonchalant look in his eyes that makes you want to prove yourself to him.

But his not a complete asshole, he knows that he doesn’t cum quick. So, once you’re tired of riding him, he lets you lay yourself down on his chiseled chest as he starts to power bottom you.

His going to fuck you ruthlessly from below.

The only sound being heard, is your cries of pleasure, the slick of your pussy and his sexy laughs as he listens to your pleases to cum.

But once he cums his a real gentleman.

“I love watching my cum drip out of you but here’s a towel princess” he says as he watches you struggle to get up.

“It’s fine, lay back down I’ll clean you up”

Nanami

His type is someone who has a wild side in bed, someone who’s willing to explore new things in the bedroom.

Nanami is known for being a routinely man, with a strict schedule but once he gets into the bedroom he likes to throw that all away.

So, a woman that’s not scared to explore new positions or toys is what gets his balls aching.

Coming home to see you in crotchless panties, or having you bend over to reveal no underwear has the blood rushing to his cock.

“Wet as usual” Nanami says as he lets his middle finger slip through your puffy lips as you remain bent over the kitchen table pretending to reach for something.

If his fucking you from the side his going to use a vibrator on your swollen clit so he can feel your walls tighten from the sensations.

Loves sensation play, ice, wax, blowing cold air on your nipples and pussy, his doing it all. And if you like he’ll let you do it on him.

He can’t decide on his favourite position yet because he still has so many more to explore with you, but fucking you in doggy in front of the mirror is definitely second place.

“Look how my cum is dripping out of you” Nanami says with a smile as he continues to fuck you from behind.

Is definitely considering getting a sex swing.

“Look it’s on special”

.

.

.

Gojo, Higuruma, Shia, Choso coming soon …

All rights reserved @rinrinx2

[velvet4510]

I think my favorite book-to-film change is the addition of Sam saving Frodo from letting go of the cliff and falling into the lava. And the reason why is the brilliant sound design; I wanna point this out for anyone who hasn’t noticed.

When Frodo is first shown dangling, we hear the Ring calling him. An eerie, high-pitched noise, almost a whistle, begins as the Ring first lands on top of the lava, and permeates the soundtrack as Sam looks over the edge and that expression of despair crosses Frodo’s face as he realizes what he failed to do. Just then we assume Frodo’s POV. We’re hearing what he’s hearing; the Ring is beckoning him to let go and follow it.

But then, when Sam says “give me your hand!” and it cuts to another closeup of Frodo’s face, looking up at Sam, suddenly the Ring’s whistle just … stops. Abruptly. There’s another cut to the Ring as it starts to glow and melt. It is clearly still calling Frodo, but suddenly Frodo (and we) can’t hear it.

Even the music quietens and the loudest sound we hear is Sam’s voice.

Then Frodo looks down as his hand slips, and then makes eye contact with Sam again. And then the music/chorus slowly grows louder as Sam practically whispers, and yet it almost sounds like a shout, “Don’t you let go…”

Then Frodo makes his choice. He chooses Sam, and grabs his hand.

The soundtrack just by itself reveals the true power of the love these two share. The sight and sound of Sam, pleading and pleading with all the adoration in his heart, finally beats the Ring for good. Suddenly Frodo can’t hear the Ring anymore. He can only hear his Sam.

The stronger force prevails.

[fourmoony]

𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧

james potter x f!reader | modern!hockey au

cw: injury, language, use of pain medication (gas and air), exes reconciliation

summary - James is there for ex!reader when she has an accident on the ice.

2.8k

Took a break from writing ch3 of FOW to write this lil ficcy.

---

The arena goes silent the minute the programme music starts, the lights a deep blue, the music soft and slow. He’s on the Gryffindor bench, helmet at his feet, bottle half empty and hanging limply from his hands – they’re cold now they’re out of his gloves. The rest of the team has eyes on the tunnel, the whole arena does, and when James catches sight of you, he understands why, would singlehandedly go into the stands and force anyone who wasn’t paying enough attention to just – look.

Look at the way you skate so softly, like every movement comes straight from your soul, the way your dress glitters under the light, the way it makes your skin glow. He thinks you’re ethereal, honestly. He always has. But he’s not exactly allowed to think that, anymore, is he?

You skid to a stop in the middle of the ice, getting into position. Remus places a supportive hand on James’ shoulder, gives his friend an understanding look. Everything you do is always so precise, so fluid and beautiful. The way you skate is pure elegance, unlike hockey, which is rough and fast, harsh movements and even harsher words. The music fades out, changes to the start of a song James has never seen you skate to, before. But then, he supposes – he hasn’t seen you skate in four months. He hasn’t watched you try, and try, fall, and try, and fall again until you get a new move, a new routine, a sense of achievement.

He hasn’t sat on the bleachers freezing his arse off after practice just to be in your presence, or took you to eat, after. He hasn’t made sure you’re eating, sleeping, taking time to look after and care for yourself, and not just your talent.

You look different. Still beautiful, still the girl James fell in love with. But you look different. He can’t pinpoint it, really. There’s just a difference in the way you look straight at the empty penalty box as you wait for your cue that doesn’t sit right in James’ chest. It’s clunky and a little painful, a broken promise of something. You’re not looking at him. Whenever you skate at Hogwarts Arena – you look for James. Whether he’s playing or in the crowd. A nod from him, and you’re off like a shot into whatever performance your coach has chosen. Now, though, you’re staring blankly at the penalty box, not James.

He gets it, he does. It’s over. Has been for a while. But he wishes you’d look over, knows how nervous you get, wants to give you a reassuring smile. James sees the way your knees wobble as you kick off, floating across the ice like you could be flying.

You make it look so effortless, skating. You look weightless as you twist and turn into jumps James could never imagine being able to pull off – and he’s been skating since he could walk. He admires the steady movements, the emotion on your face as you glide, and spin, and jump, and the emotion on your face as the music follows the highs and lows of your routine. You’re so focussed you don’t seem to notice how the pain, the heartache of the song, the weight of the routine, bleeds from you.

It’s beautiful, in a way.

You’re beautiful in every way.

James feels the weight of watching you crushing him like a building sitting on his chest. He’s been slammed into the boards eight times in the first two quarters – not once had it hurt as much as watching you out there, so lovely, so gentle, so sad, so close but so fucking far. James thinks perhaps Remus’ hand on his shoulder is to keep him in place, for if it wasn’t there, he’d be out on the ice following you, right now. Heart in his hand, begging you to take it, no matter what it costs you both.

He’s always been selfish with love. He knows that, now. He does.

James should see it coming a mile off. He knows everything about you, the way you skate. He has every breath change, every wobble, every movement you make on the ice memorised. So, when you jump off with your left pick instead of your right – James should know what’s about to happen. You spin once, and James realises, too late, that jumping with the wrong foot has thrown you off. You’re on the ice in less than a second, the music cuts off, the crowd and both teams make gasping noises, murmured concerns. James doesn’t hear any of it.

All he can hear is the ice shattering scream you let out.

You don’t get up. James waits several seconds, and you don’t get up. Remus shoves him, Sirius pulls open the board door and James, in only his under armour and protective trousers, skates loosened for the break, skates to you as fast as he can. There’s cheering from the crowd when James comes flying out of the team box, but James can’t hear any of it over the sounds you’re making.

He’s seen you fall hundreds of times. He’s seen you pull muscles and break ribs, bruise tail bones, sprain ankles and he has never heard you make noise like this in his life. The medics haven’t arrived yet, James skids to a stop, drops to his knees. You don’t look up, face tilted towards the ice – a media training stunt so the crowd can’t see how much pain you’re actually in. But he can tell your eyes are screwed shut, fists clenched so tight he’s concerned you might break your wrists.

He says your name, soft, gentle, and it sounds foreign coming out of his mouth.

You take a shuddering breath, head tilting in the cage your arms have made for it just slightly. Your eyes are filled with so much fear that James finds it hard to breathe, tears spilling out and onto your red cheeks, “My hip. My hip, Jamie, my hip.”

You sound terrified, broken, in agonising pain. James shouts for a medic, loud enough that he thinks the whole arena can hear. There’s refs and managers, your skating coach, all on the ice when the medics come running. James feels as though he could throttle every last one for taking so long. You’re crying, curled in on yourself, and James knows better than to touch you, like this. It makes the pain worse, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. And he thinks, maybe, that you just don’t want him to touch you, regardless, anyway.

The medics slide the board under you, roll you onto your back and the scream of agony you let out breaks James. He’s crying, and you reach for his hand, squeeze it so tight he feels his bones rub together.

“Potter!” Moody, his coach, yells after him when he starts to follow the medics off the ice with you.

“I’m not leaving her.” James doesn’t leave room for negotiation, doesn’t want Moody to challenge him on this because he might do something stupid and lose his place in the league all together.

His coach sighs, nods, and James is off like a shot. He catches up with you in the tunnel, headed straight for the Gryffindor PT room. You’re still sobbing, awful, throaty cries that are etching their way around James’ ribs, threatening to break and scratch and pull at them. It’s a flurry of noise and shouting and protests from you whenever someone comes close to touching your hip. It’s chaos.

James isn’t really all that sure if you’ve fully registered that he’s there, honestly, or if you’re in so much pain you don’t have it in you to argue over his presence. The medic gives James a look, a rather pointed one, when you refuse for the millionth time to let anyone touch your hip. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. You’re not his girlfriend, anymore. You’re not his, you don’t love him. He can’t comfort you the way he used to.

“Jamie,” You’re breathless, face red and blotchy, hand gripping his, looking up at him with fear, “Don’t let them. It hurts.”

And James feels like he’s drowning.

“Hey,” He gets close to your face, the thumb of his free hand swiping away the tears from your eyes, “They can’t help you if you don’t let them see what’s wrong.”

“It hurts.”

“I know,” He soothes, pushing strands of hair from your forehead, “But it’s gonna hurt a lot longer if you don’t let them fix it.”

You seem to consider, hiccupping breaths filling the silence. The medic makes an impatient sound and James throws him a cutting look.

“Short term pain, long term gain.” James murmurs into the skin of your forehead. It's a joke saying - something you used to say rather bitterly when you hurt yourself learning a new stunt.

You don’t flinch, don’t pull away or protest when he presses his lips to the heated skin. It provides the distraction the medics need to cut the seam of your dress and reveal the skin of your hip. A junior medic passes you a nozzle, wheels a tank to the side of the table you’re on, and passes you it, “Gas and air. You’re going to need it.”

James wishes he could have some, too.

The medics work, you almost chew through the air nozzle when they try to push your hip back into place, and eventually, James has to murmur panicked and overly loud sweet nothings into your ear over the gut wrenching cries you let out when the medic yanks and then pushes your hip right back into place.

The game is long since over. Gryffindor won.

You’re limp on the table, waiting for the crowd to leave before the ambulance can make it to the player exit. James sits, watches you drift in and out of consciousness, begs his heart to return to normal because you’re not in pain anymore, not in danger. You’re here. In front of him. Okay.

Sirius appears a little after the game, freshly showered and in his suit.

“She okay?” He asks, hands stuffed into his suit trouser pockets.

You and Sirius are close. Still. James doesn’t hold it against either of you. You’ve both been such an intracule part of each other’s lives that he’d be evil for expecting that to come to an end just because you and James didn’t work out. You both deserve better than his jealousy.

“Dislocated her hip. They think she’s torn some ligaments; need to wait on the hospital scans to be sure.” James replies, eyes roving over your face.

You look so peaceful, asleep. So free of pain, of the fear and agony you’d been in only half an hour ago. His heart aches. He wants to coddle you, assure you you’ll be okay. He knows he can’t.

Sirius nods, “She’ll skate again? Or no?”

The medic hadn’t seemed hopeful. James doesn’t know who’s going to have the job of telling you, but he’s praying for them. You won’t take this news lightly, “Not at the level she’s at now.”

He watches the concern wash over Sirius. They both know what it’s like to skate. Sure, hockey and figure skating are different – but the mindset is often the same. James can’t imagine being told he couldn’t skate. It’s part of him – his soul. As it is, yours.

“You okay?”

James shakes his head, “No. I can’t stop hearing her. That scream, Padfoot - It hollowed me out.”

Sirius nods, like he understands. Perhaps he does, in some way. He heard it, too. “She’s okay. For now. You going in the ambulance?”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll wait for you in the car, then.” Sirius leaves without another word but offers James an understanding look. He gets it. He knows what it’s like for love to hurt. He and Remus spent years hurting each other for no good reason.

The room is quiet when Sirius goes. Just the steady sounds of your breathing, the beeping of your monitor. James allows himself to press his palm to your cheek one last time. He wills himself to stand up, to leave. He can’t manage it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to walk away from you. Not like this.

“Stay. Please.”

You’re awake. He’s not sure how long you’ve been awake, but he has a feeling you heard his conversation with Sirius. His heart feels like it’s been kick started, like for the first time since you hit the ice, he can breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises, thumb rubbing at your neck, hand cupping your jaw.

You nod, swallow, “I won’t skate again, will I?”

“You don’t know that.”

A noise akin to a scoff escapes your lips, which wobble as you speak, “Everyone knows how these injuries end, Jamie. I’ll be a coach, at best.”

He wishes he could tell you that you might make a full recovery, that you’ll go back to being the ethereal, elegant skater you’ve been since he met you all those years ago. He’s never lied to you before, though, so he won’t start now. You both know the statistics, the stories, how it goes. Rehab for six months, and if you’re lucky, you’ll skate in a straight line again.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You shush him, a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, “I should’ve looked for you. I should’ve, I knew I should’ve, but I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming to you. From coming to tell you that I was sorry, that I was wrong, I should’ve…”

James takes his turn shushing you as the quiet sobs rack your body. You used to chide him for his superstitions, it breaks his heart that you think breaking one caused this. He leans over, lips to the skin of your forehead, pressing over and over as though it might make the weight of his love settle into your brain, “No. Please don’t do that, please. Don’t blame yourself. These things happen. Accidents, they happen, no one is a perfect skater, okay?”

“But it’s my fault we broke up.”

You sound so broken, so tired. James doesn’t know what to say, isn't sure what relevance that has to this, so he says nothing.

Time passes, the medics return, bring James his joggies and hoodie and his shoes. He changes quickly, comes in the ambulance to the hospital.

He waits with you, holds your hand, gives you as much reassurance as he can. The doctor tells you three hours later that you’ll never skate at the same level again, and James holds you. He’s careful not to crush you when he climbs into the hospital bed, and he holds you until there’s no more tears left for you to cry. He sits with you in the silence, is patient when you get angry, frustrated, blame yourself and the world, even him, and he’s there. He stays. He doesn’t allow you to push him away this time.

The sun creeps up over the trees, cuts through the fluorescent hospital lighting and casts its golden glow on you, and James remembers.

He remembers all the time away from the rink, the beach, his parent’s summer house, road trips, theme parks, early mornings in his apartment, coffees in the car after practice. He remembers that there, once, had been more to your relationship than skating. It became habit, after a while. Skate, fight, train, skate, fight, train. It got tiring. It got old, and it drove a wedge between you both.

But he remembers how freely you once loved each other, the person you are, not the way you skate. Your soul, bright and luminous, off the ice. You’re so much more than a pair of skates and a beautiful routine. You’re ethereal all on your own.

You wake not long after, the pain medication worn off and reality starting to set in.

If you’re surprised to find James in your hospital bed with you, you don’t show it. You offer him a gentle smile. A kind smile. A hopeful smile. He kisses the crown of your head, nestles as close as your hip will allow. You make a grateful humming noise.

"I'll survive this."

James notes that you don't sound all that sure. But he knows you will. He squeezes you gently, "You will."

"And you'll be there? I know it's selfish of me to ask..."

"I'm not going anywhere. Promise." James' thumb pulls your lip from where it's worrying between your teeth, and you look so soft, so scared. So. Lovely.

You seem happy with that answer, cheek rubbing happily against his shoulder, "We'll work it out."

"We will."

[i9messi]

The three of us — Charles Leclerc

Charles is happy to spend his day with you and his daughter.

Word count — 845

charles’ masterlist

Charles was fascinated and terrified. He had been anxious about his parenting skills and scared that he might be completely unprepared. But when the baby arrived, it was as if everything had fit into place. It was all of a sudden, one day he was kissing your belly and talking to his future daughter, and the next day, he was holding the beautiful baby in his arms. Now every time he saw the newborn, he couldn’t stop smiling. It was a product of the love that you and he had.

"She really looks like you." he said, coming closer to where you and the baby were. His daughter had her eyes closed and was fast asleep.

"Are you joking? She looks too much like you. She’ll want to drive cars anytime."

He smiled, "Well, daddy won’t let her. She’s my princess and driving cars is dangerous for her."

You smiled at his concern. The truth is that Charles was overly protective of his daughter. Every time he heard the little baby crying, he was desperate to know what was wrong. He wanted to protect the baby from the dangers of the world and the girl was only a month old. She was his universe.

"Maybe she wants to follow your steps, I’m just saying."

You looked at your husband and extended your hand, to hold his. His eyes settled on the beautiful ring on your finger. The three of you were everything to him, his little family.

"You know you made me the happiest man in the world, belle?"

"Oh, Charles. And you made me the happiest woman in the world."

Ever since Charles found out that you were pregnant, he hadn’t taken off for a second on your side, except for the races and the trips he had to make for work, he avoided spending more than ten minutes apart from you. Knowing you were carrying his child made him happy, and since he found out, his days had changed like never before.

Both shared a moment of tranquility, sitting near the crib, without hearing any crying. But just minutes later, the baby woke up and looked at her father. The girl smiled as never before.

"She’s a daddy’s girl." you didn’t have to correct him, because Charles was right. The girl behaved differently in her father’s presence. It didn’t matter that you carried her for nine months in your belly, she was a traitor, smiling every time her dad was around.

Charles approached the baby and held her. Watching your husband hold your daughter made you feel like you had everything.

"I want another." you joked, "Better be a boy, so I don’t feel excluded."

"Well, we can have another."

"I’m not talking seriously, Charles. She’s too young and we need to focus on her."

"Fine, when she grows up a little more, we can give her a brother. I just want the best for my two girls."

Charles being a father and an excellent husband was something you had never prepared for and yet, you loved the result. You were a lucky woman.

"I’m hungry, will you stay with her for a moment?"

Charles nodded and spoke to the little baby. "Mommy’s going to make us something to eat, she’s a great cook."

You left them alone, with an attentive ear in case they needed your help. You approached the kitchen and began to prepare something to eat. It was still early, so you thought you’d make some strawberries and cream. It was one of your favorite pregnant desserts and you’d gotten used to eating it almost every day. You were just finishing mixing the ingredients, when you heard a few steps approaching you. Charles was without shirt, something had happened because a minute before he was still fully dressed. The baby was in his arms.

"Aren’t you gonna put cheese on it or something?"

"I’m not pregnant anymore, I promise I won’t make any strange mix."

Charles, you and the baby walked to the living room, where you sat on the couch. He left the baby well settled on the cushions and started eating strawberries with cream. The driver put on a children's music background and the baby was calm next to you. While both of you were eating, your husband would steal some kisses from you and every time the baby wanted something, he would come over to talk to her.

"You’re glowing," he pointed out. "Having a baby has made you even more beautiful, if that’s even possible."

"I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing, but it is definitely not a glow."

He squinted at your words and shook his head, you were wrong. To Charles' eyes you were beautiful.

"It is. Maybe we should have another baby very soon."

"Charles!"

"Tell mommy I'm joking, I don't want her to be angry. Daddy goes mad when your mommy is angry.” he joined the baby to the talk and you smiled. Your daughter's eyes met yours, without understanding anything her dad were saying.

“I love you, Charles.”

“Tell mommy I love her too.”

[thesquirrelqueer]

my friend and I were talking about what if jeremy became a guidance counselor when he’s older so here are some random headcanons for that idea

“did you know mr. heere caused the squip incident of 2004?” “no way??? mr. heere wore his pants backwards last week there’s no way he had a squip” “maybe that’s why they don’t make them anymore.”

everyone knows “mr. heere” as the school’s cryptid. too damn tall. his wife is an actress, or is his HUSBAND a game designer??? he talks to himself sometimes. he’s got mountain dew varieties in the first aid kit in his office.

“one time mr. heere just grabbed open circuitry. I don’t know.” <- he’s immune to electricity post-squip

he has a group of ten children who follow him around like lost ducklings

he runs the performance art club (he’s got a hands-off club running approach. He runs it solely so that they’re able to meet every week, because the club can’t exist without a teacher or counselor)

christine stops by it sometimes and the kids are like IS THAT CHRISTINE CANIGULA??? THE FAMOUS ACTRESS??? WAIT SHES YOUR WIFE???

all the kids are swarming her for pictures and autographs and she’s like “jeremy your kids have great taste in musicals”

btw he is married to both christine and michael in this. he wears two rings, one for each of them.

“mr. heere, you sometimes say wife, and sometimes say husband, uh… um… is your partner non-binary?” “oh! sell, uh, you see, christine is, they’re my wife, but my husband is michael, he’s a different person, I’m uh—“ “mr. heere is a player!” “n-no, guys, I’m polyamorous.”

one day the kids mention an indie fighting co-op game and jeremy is like “oh wow that finally came out? my husband worked on it a few years ago.” and the kids are BEGGING him to bring his husband in. as if his husband is a toy for show-and-tell.

[mountttmase]

Still Be Mine

Note - happy new year babies 🩷 thank you so much for all your love this year I really do appreciate you and I hope you enjoy this 🙊 feedback would be appreciated as normal 😏

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5.9k

Warnings - angst, smut and fluff

You’d never been a fan of New Year’s Eve. Always wanting to skip the parties so you could stay in and usually due to Masons scheduling arrangements there was never time for a big party. But this year was different.

You were currently in the car on the way to Ben's house. His and Masons fixtures were a little earlier than usual meaning they had time to do what they wanted this year and Ben wanted to throw a party so that Mason could be reunited with all of his ex teammates for a good catch up.

You didn’t mind this at all, itching to see some of your old girlfriends for a catch up too but as you got closer the nerves started to settle in.

You knew what Bens house parties were usually like and you were pretty sure they weren’t the best place to be having kids running around but he’d assure you that Ollie and Tilly would be more than welcome and it wasn't like a normal party of his.

You hadn’t been in the mood for it though as soon as you set off that morning. Driving straight from Manchester to Cobham and quickly stopping to see uncle Lew so you could change and get ready to go straight to the party and also drop Nala off with him so he could take her down to Mason's parents where you would be spending tomorrow.

You were tired and cranky and your new outfit that you loved yesterday now felt uncomfortable and tight. Not sitting how you wanted it too but just one smile and a compliment from Mason made all your troubles disappear into thin air.

To your surprise, it wasn’t like one of Ben's usual parties. The music was at a respectable volume and even though it was busy with most of the players, many had their kids with them and even Ben's parents and family were all there.

Your babies loved uncle Benji like he was a real part of the family. Running straight into his arms as soon as they saw him and it made your heart melt at how happy he himself was to see them. You missed having him around so much now so you knew times like these were extra special.

‘I got you this specially’ Ben smiled after you’d all hugged, walking you over to the fridge and pulling out a giant bottle of appletiser. ‘I remembered it was your favourite. Thought you could drink it out of a champagne glass and then you’ll look like the rest of us’

‘Oh yeah Ben, that’ll look really classy’ you laughed, your hand falling to your swollen belly. ‘Can’t wait to start a rumour that the pregnant lady is still drinking’

‘Yeah maybe you’re right, normal glass for you’ he laughed, pulling one from the cupboard and pouring you a glass. ‘I’ve set all the food up in there too for when the kids are ready and I can pop the tv on if you want’

‘Thanks Ben, I might have to. Tilly will go nuts if she misses Pupstruction’

‘What the fuck is that’ he laughed, clearly not up to date on kids tv shows and you were actually a little bit jealous.

‘I wish I could tell you, all I know is they don’t make shows like when we kids anymore’

Ollie and Tilly were running in soon after, followed by Mason who had the biggest smile on his face and your heart burst at how happy he was. Mason was a person who found joy in being around other people and the delight on his face let you know his was over the moon at being here.

‘You good?’ He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your forehead gently and you instantly felt more relaxed.

‘Yeah, everything in?’

‘Yeah, bags are all in the room so we’re good to go’

‘Thank you’ you smiled, feeling him position himself behind you so he could hold your bump in his hands and kiss your neck repeatedly.

‘God guys, not in the kitchen’ Ben mocked just as two girls walked in that you’d never seen before. They were both beautiful and had their eyes on Mason immediately but given your current emotional state you felt your heart sink however Mason appeared to be none the wiser. Still holding you just as before as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. ‘Oh perfect timing. Guys this is Miaya, the girl I was telling you about and this is her friend Josie’ he told you both. Pulling the one stood closest to him into his side and you couldn’t deny you felt a little relief at knowing at least one of them was with Ben. ‘Guys this this Mason and Y/n and these two little cuties are Ollie and Tilly’

Miaya seemed nice, sending you guys a quick wave and you could tell she was a little shy but it was Josie who was making you feel uneasy still. The way she looked you up and down made your skin itch and you almost lost it when she did the same to the kids but it was when her eyes landed on Mason you felt the worst.

You knew that look, and whilst you didn’t think you were a jealous woman when it came to Mason she wasn’t making it easy for you. Mason had never once given you any indication than he’d ever look to someone else but with how self conscious you were feeling tonight you wouldn’t blame him for looking elsewhere and the thought terrified you. Gripping onto Mason even tighter and he must have felt you stiffen as he placed a quick reassuring kiss to the side of your head.

‘Nice you meet you guys’ Mason smiled but before he could say anything else, Bettinelli’s booming voice was shouting for Mason so he reached for your hand. ‘I’ll catch you guys around, I better go see him’ he laughed. Picking up your glass before pulling you into the other room with the kids in tow. ‘That was oddly intense’ he laughed, turning to you with a silly smile but you didn't have a chance to react as Betts was pulling Mason into a hug as Nadia did the same with you.

‘Look at you! You're the most beautiful pregnant lady I’ve ever seen’ she laughed holding you at arms length. ‘You’ve got the cutest bump, I can’t’

‘Don’t I feel like a whale’ you laughed, slightly envious of the way she looked in her dress as it hugged all the right place.

‘Well you look gorgeous’ she smiled sincerely and you felt your eyes sting but thankfully her eyes were on Ollie and Tilly who were standing next to you hand in hand as they looked on at her shyly. ‘Hey guys, don’t you two look smart. All the other kids are in the play room if you wanna join them’ she told them, sending Ollie a reassuring smile as he led Tilly off to play with the other kids and you let them know you’d come and find them soon.

Mason had been stolen by the boys, spending his time catching up with them and sharing stories from Manchester whilst you went and sat with the girls. Being introduced to a few new faces as you laughed and spoke about how this pregnancy had been. Most of them either childless or only with one so they had many questions for you but you were more than happy to answer.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there but your glass was now empty and you figured you better check on the kids and make sure they weren’t causing any mischief with the others.

Thankfully you could see them playing nicely with the other kids but as soon as Tilly caught sight of you she was up and running over to you. A bright smile on her face just like how she normally looked when you got her from nursery and it made your heart thud at how happy she was to see you.

‘Hungry, mummy’ she pouted, reaching for your hand and Ollie wasn’t far behind at this point, nodding in agreement so you took them to the kitchen. Grabbing the pair of them a drink first before sneaking back into the main room to find Mason.

‘I’m just gonna take the kiddies to get some food’ you told him quietly, touching him on the back of the shoulder before he turned to you with a smile.

‘I’ll come with you’

‘No it’s okay, I got it’ you told him with a smile. Not wanting to pull him away from his friends that he hadn’t seen in a while so with a kiss to his cheek you grabbed Tilly’s hand and ushered her and Ollie into Ben's sitting room where he’d laid out all their favourite snacks.

Much to your dismay, you saw Miaya and Joisie in there, Josie’s eyes lighting up at the sight of you and Miaya gave you a small tight smile but as soon as you heard some shrill giggles you knew it was directed at you.

You let Ollie grab his own food but you knew Tilly needed some help, trying to focus on what she was asking for but a voice, you were presuming belonged to Josie, was getting louder and seemed to be the only thing you could hear anymore. Your tummy sinking with every word she said.

‘I mean does she really think he’ll stick around much longer with her looking like… that’

‘Jo’ Miaya sighed, trying to get her to be quiet but she didn't make too much more of an effort to make Josie be quiet causing her to giggle. Trying to mask it with her hand but you still heard it loud and clear and you felt sick to your stomach. Wondering if you should leave to go and get Mason but you felt a bit silly over reacting to what this random girl had to say about you.

‘I mean I get she’s given him kids but he could have anyone he wants. Like honestly if I was him I’d be ashamed coming here tonight with her looking like that. And those kids too like what must they think? I’d be so embarrassed’

You’d never felt so awful before, tears stinging your eyes as you tried carrying on but it was difficult as she tore you apart bit by bit behind you. Not seeming to want to give up as she giggled away at you and as much as you tried to hold your emotions in you knew you were about to lose it.

‘I’m surprised she even managed to squash herself into those shoes. You just wouldn’t bother would you?’

It was getting too much for you. Your hands shaking as you passed Tilly what you’d got for her so far before you felt a little hand touch your arm and when you looked down, Ollie was looking at you with a concerned expression.

‘Shall we go out, mum?’

‘I think so baby, yes. We’ll go up to our room, yeah?’ you answered. Grabbing Tilly’s shoulder so you could steer her out and over to the stairs but she nearly threw a fit about not getting the snacks she wanted so you let her know she could have them upstairs, you just needed to get out and away from that horrible girl.

You always stayed in the same room when you visited Ben so you quickly shuffled the pair of them inside. Popping Tilly up on the bed and passing her her plate before Ollie took hold of your hand and you almost burst into tears at his expression.

‘Are you okay, mum?’ He questioned, letting you pull him in for a hug when your eyes filled with tears but you were determined not to show him how upset you were.

‘I fine baby, I promise’

‘But those girls-‘

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter, yeah?’ You told him. Ruffling his hair before pulling back. ‘Will you look after Tilly a sec? I just need the loo’ you told him and after he’d nodded you dropped a kiss on his forehead before shutting yourself in the en-suite.

You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror, knowing if you did you’d start ugly crying so you pulled the toilet lid down and sat on it. Trying to calm your strangled breaths but it was no use. You felt humiliated and their words were replaying in your head on a loop.

Is that what people really thought of you? That you should be ashamed of yourself? That Mason would leave you soon because of how you looked and that your babies were embarrassed of you?

It all got too much for you, covering your face with your hands so you could have a little cry but a knock on the door snapped you out of it.

‘Y/n? You in there?’ You heard Ben call. Quickly making yourself look presentable before letting him in but he saw the distraught look on your face straight away and closed the door behind him. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing, sorry. Just my hormones playing up a bit I think I’m alright’

‘Don’t lie, y/n. I know somethings up’ he told you with a sad smile before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘I heard you talking to Ollie just now and he told me someone was mean to you. Who was he talking about?’

‘It’s nothing-‘

‘Please tell me who it is, even if you think I’ll be upset’ he asked and you had a funny feeling he knew what was going on. ‘You guys come before anyone okay? so I don’t care who it is, I’ll sort it’

You didn’t want to tell him and make things awkward but there was no way you were leaving this room if she was still in the house so you dropped your eyes to the floor and played with your fingers.

‘It was Josie, Miaya didn’t do anything but she didn’t exactly defend me either’ you laughed, rolling your eyes. ‘She was just saying some not very nice things about me and how I look’ you told him, trying to laugh it off before you let out a small sob. ‘Is Mase anywhere, I just-‘

‘Shh come here’ he told you, pulling you in for a quick hug and it took all your strength not to break down in his arms. ‘I’ll go get him okay?’

‘Thanks Benji’ you hiccuped, trying to wipe your eyes and not smudge your makeup but from the black marks all over your hands you knew it was ruined by now.

‘That’s alright. I’ll sort it all I promise’. He sighed before leading you out and back to the kids. Sitting yourself next to Ollie who popped his hand in yours before Tilly eventually crawled over to sit on your other side. Clearly feeling the mood had shifted and wanting to hold your hand too and you all sat mostly in silence with them both leaning on your arms until you finally heard Mason running up the stairs and bursting into the room.

‘Hey, you all alright in here?’

‘No, I wanted cake’ Tilly moaned, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her tantrum. She really was her mothers daughter and you couldn’t blame her for missing out on cake since you were quite peckish yourself.

‘Ollie mate, can you take Tilly to go get some cake and then Uncle Ben’s got some sparklers in the garden for you okay?’ Mason told them and they were both quick to get up and rush out of the room. The prospect of cake and sparklers being far too exciting for them but that meant you were left with just Mason and you knew he could read you like a book.

‘Hey, come here’ he whispered, reaching for your hand as you felt your face crumple again. You should have known seeing Mason would have only set you off but you let him pull you up and into his arms. ‘Shhhhh it’s okay gorgeous, she’s gone now’

‘Sorry Mase, I feel like such a wally-‘

Don’t be silly baby, are you alright?’ He asked but you just nodded into his neck. ‘Come here, what did she say?’ He whispered, pulling you over to the bed so you could sit on his lap and once you were comfortable he just about caged you in his arms. Thumb lightly stroking your back as the other held your thigh.

‘Nothing I-‘

‘Please tell me. It can’t be nothing if you’re this upset’ he reasoned and you figured you might as well tell him. Hoping he’d be able to reassure you a little bit as you were feeling the worst you had about yourself in a while.

‘She basically called me ugly, said you’ll leave me soon cause you should be ashamed of me and the kids are probably embarrassed to have me as their mum’ you told him steadily, your voice slightly cracking at the end even though you tried hard to keep calm.

Mason's body tensed and you could feel the anger ripping through him but he kept it inside and just pulled you closer to his body. Letting you sob into his neck before pulling away so he could look at you.

‘I’m so sorry she said that to you baby but it’s all bullshit, you know that don’t you?’ He told you softly. You couldn’t reply, just shrugging your shoulders as deep down you were unsure of yourself but when you felt him tuck your hair behind your ear you looked straight into his soft brown eyes. ‘You’re the love of my life, I could never be ashamed of you’

‘But I’m all fat’ you laughed, your hand on your bump to emphasise your point but he just looked at you lovingly.

‘You’re pregnant babe, not fat’ he chuckled, placing his hand on top of yours as he tried to link your fingers together. ‘You’re sexy as hell to me when you’re like this’

‘Stop it’

‘I’m serious’ he laughed. Pressing a kiss to your cheek. ‘You’re carrying my baby, like do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you? Every time I look at you all I can think about is what we did to make this happen’

You remembered it too. Mason telling you he wanted a third baby on a family walk and after trying for a while you started to feel the familiar signs that it might be happening. He was so in tune with you and excited about it this time though he managed to predict you were pregnant even before you realised yourself and when it was confirmed and you counted back you were both surprised to find you’d managed to fall pregnant that first night you’d tried.

‘And those kids adore you. You’re their absolute world baby’ he followed on, doing anything he could to try and convince you. ‘I know it’s hard but please ignore that twat. She’s not worth your tears okay?’

‘Okay’

‘And we don’t have to leave this room until you’re ready, okay? I’ll sit with you-‘

‘No mase, I’m fine. You’re here to see your friends not sit with me’

‘Well I’m still gonna sit here’

‘Well then I’m ready to go’ you laughed, standing up and pulling him with you but he was quick to stop you in your tracks and cup your cheeks. Pressing delicate kisses to your face before finally kissing you properly and you felt any sense of stress leave your body as he delicately brushed his lips against yours.

‘No more tears, pretty girl, okay?’

‘Love you, Mase’ you whispered, thankful you had him to settle you back down again and your heart was racing as he smiled down at you.

‘Love you, too’

‘You go ahead, I think I’m gonna change into something else’ you told him just as he was about to pull you from the room but the disappointed look on his face made you squirm.

‘What? Why? Is it because of what she said?’

‘Well no I just…’

‘Sweetheart’ he huffed, placing his lips on your forehead gently. ‘You look perfect. And you know I’d tell you if you didn’t’ he teased. ‘Come on, let’s go back together’ he told you and after a quick wipe under your eyes he was helping you back down the stairs and into the room where everyone else was.

They all seemed to be none the wiser, chatting away with you like nothing happened and you slowly felt yourself start to relax again in everyone’s company.

Mason didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Making sure you always had a drink in your hand or grabbing you snacks when you needed them and before long it was almost midnight.

‘I’m just going to the loo’ you told Mason, trying to peel your hand out of his as he seemed insistent on going with you but eventually he gave in. Letting you go by yourself but as soon as you were done and went to leave you were confronted by the person you wanted to see least.

Miaya was standing outside the bathroom door, waiting for you it seemed, as she didn’t look shocked to see you there and barely gave you a second before she started to speak.

‘Hi y/n, sorry I was hoping to catch you. Can we talk?’

‘Oh i um-‘

‘Please, it’ll only be a second. I really want to apologise’ she told you, her face full of remorse so you nodded your head into Ben's utility room for a little privacy. Thankfully she followed but didn’t give you a chance to speak once you were alone. ‘I just wanted to say I’m so sorry for earlier. What she said was awful and I should have stopped her or stepped in and I’m just so sorry if I upset you’

You didn’t want to say it was okay because it wasn’t so you stood playing with your fingers as you weren’t quite sure what to do. You’d never been that confrontational so this situation right now was a tough one for you but thankfully she kept talking.

‘I’d hate for you to think I’m a horrible person, cause I’m really not. And I really care about Ben so much so this whole situation is just a bit shit cause I really wanted you to like me’ she laughed, but you could hear the tears in her voice and when you looked up you could see them burning in her eyes. ‘I don’t even know why I didn’t say anything. I know what she’s like so maybe I’m just used to it but that’s no excuse I’m so sorry y/n’

‘Come on, don’t get upset’ you reasoned, reaching out to hold her shoulder to let you know she’d be fine as in all honesty you didn’t think she was a bad person. She’d just got caught up in the moment but you could tell she was really sorry now. ‘We all make mistakes’

‘I’ll make it up to you I promise’

‘It’s fine let’s just move on yeah? Start fresh with the new year and all that’

‘I see why Mason loves you’ she laughed, wiping her eyes as she sent you a kind smile. ‘Thank you’

‘Come on, Mason will think I’m stuck on the loo if I’m any longer’ you laughed, both walking back into the main room where Mason's eyes found you immediately. Bundling you into his arms so he could kiss your head gently.

Your legs were tired and your back ached but Ben had arranged for some fireworks to go off as the clock struck 12 so Mason stuffed you into his coat and took you outside with everyone else. You were pleased to find Ollie and Tilly running around filled with excitement before sitting down with Ben and Miaya who sent the pair of you a wink. Letting you know he had them and to enjoy yourselves a bit and you smiled as Tilly sat with Miaya as they chatted away.

‘Any New Year’s resolutions?’ You asked Mason, resting your hands on his chest and he’s wrapped his around your waist and his cheeky smile let you know he wasn’t about to be serious.

‘A few, there’s one I really want to stick to’

‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’

‘Remind you how much I love you every single day’ he told you sincerely before pressing a kiss to your nose.

‘You already do that’ you laughed, hiding your face out of embarrassment but he just used this as an excuse to attack anywhere he could with kisses.

‘Well I wanna do it more. The fact that you actually believed what that twat said about you earlier proves to me I don't tell you enough. If I did then you would have never believed them’

‘It's just getting to that stage you know? I’m tired and I ache and I look like a beached whale-‘

‘Stop that’ he laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you heard everyone start to count down from ten. Joining in as you looked into Masons eyes and after screaming happy new year into the air you reached up to plant your lips on Masons.

The fireworks in the sky were no match for the ones on your tummy. Both smiling onto each other's lips and you slowly brushed them together and it’s like you could feel his love filling you to the brim. Your fingers and toes curling as your skin tingled and it's like the whole world faded into the background. You couldn’t hear or see or feel anything other than your man and far too quickly he was pulling away from you. Resting his forehead on yours as you smiled at each other shyly.

‘Happy new year gorgeous’ he whispered but before you could reply, the sound of Tilly’s shouts as she bounded over to you broke you apart and Mason was just quick enough to grab her and pull her up into his arms.

‘Happy new year baby’ Mason told her, you both kissing her cheeks as she giggled adorably before you turned, looking out for Ollie. Watching him come over with a bright smile and you pulled him in for a big squeeze and your heart thudded as he reciprocated.

‘Happy new year, Ollie’

‘Happy new year mum’ he told you softly, pulling back so you could both cuddle back into the other two.

‘This time next year we’ll have someone else with us’ Mason smiled, reaching out to touch your bump carefully. ‘Maybe next year we’ll keep it to us six, yeah? Us, Nala and the new baby?’

‘Sounds perfect’ you laughed. Already picturing you all bundled up together in bed and the thought made your eyes sting.

Soon enough it was time to do the rounds, hugging everyone you could and wishing them a happy new year but you could tell Ollie and Tilly had crashed and were on the verge of falling asleep so you all snuck off to put them to bed before they passed out downstairs.

The pair of you weren’t up too much longer. Spending a little more time downstairs with everyone else but the party was dying out with everyone taking their kids home and your legs were killing you so Mason helped you up to your room for the night. Getting you ready for bed before sliding in next to you and with a soft and loving kiss to your lips you both fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, no sign of the kids or Mason but before you could question it the latter walked back in the room. Hair messy from sleep and you could tell he hadn’t been awake long but the lazy smile he sent your way made your heart thud.

‘Good morning beautiful’ he yawned, pulling back the covers and sliding himself back in next to you before his hand made contact with your bump and you felt the baby kick ever so slightly. ‘Good morning to you too little one’

‘Morning Mase, where are the kids?’

‘Chilly’s taken them out for breakfast and a run about in the park with Miaya, said he’d give us a bit of a break this morning’

‘Oh that’s kind of them’

‘Yeah he comes in handy sometimes’ he laughed, pulling you as close as he could so he could rub his nose against yours and you smiled at how soft he was being with you. ‘You okay mumma?’

‘I’m okay, Mase’

‘You sure?’ He whispered, kissing your cheeks. ‘Cause I’d hate for you to be thinking about what that girl said yesterday still, and I know you are’

You cursed him internally for knowing you so well. Truth be told their words had been playing on your mind as much as you tried not to let it show they’d made you feel more insecure than you ever had.

‘Well it hurt’ you whispered, trying to keep your tone flat as you didn’t want to cry in front of him again but he could clearly read you like an open book.

‘I know baby, but you know they were talking absolute shite’ he whispered. ‘You’re absolutely everything to me, I mean it’ he told you and when you tried to laugh him off he tilted your face up so he could let you know he was serious. ‘Its true. You are the most important person in my life by far and I genuinely wouldn’t be able to carry on without you. And it’s not just because you’re the mother of my children and you take care of all of us but you’re my girl, you know? Even without all that you’d still be mine and I’d still love you just as much’

‘Oh Mase’ you sighed, tears welling in your eyes at his sweet words but he was shaking his head at you lightly.

‘No tears baby, we can’t start a new year with you blubbering’ he joked, causing you to roll your eyes as the tears fell faster down your face. ‘Your mine okay? And I’m so fucking proud to call you that so please don’t ever think any differently’

‘I know, I’m so sorry’

‘Stop saying sorry’ he laughed, rolling you onto your back slightly so he could hover over you a bit and you melted as he stroked your cheek gently. ‘You wanna just head straight home today? My parents will understand if you’re not up for it’

‘No not at all, I want to see them. And we need to get Nala anyway’

‘Well we’ll leave whenever you want’

‘Mase I’ll be fine’ you laughed, your hand touching his forearm that was resting on your chest as bright smiles lit up both your faces. ‘I love you so much’

‘I love you too’ he breathed, a shy smile taking over his face. ‘I can’t believe I was lucky enough to get to spend another whole year with you’

‘Play your cards right and I might let you have another’ you winked. Reaching up to cup the back of his neck so you could pull him down into a heated kiss.

‘We should use this alone time to our advantage’ he whispered against your lips, hooking his leg around yours so he could part them and you couldn't help but chuckle into his mouth.

‘You are so predictable Mr Mount’

‘Would you have me any other way?’

‘No, not at all’ you giggled, sighing in bliss as he trapped your bottom lip between his teeth and carefully moved your underwear to the side so he had access to you.

‘I’ll be careful, okay? And just tell me if you’re uncomfortable’

‘Okay’ you nodded, a breathy moan falling from your lips as his fingers made contact with your clit and the slow circles he was rubbing into you felt like heaven.

‘That alright sweetheart?’

‘Mhmmm’ you breathed, your whole body relaxing instantly at his touch as a shiver ran down your spine.

In the beginning when you were pregnant with Ollie, you weren’t sure how you felt about having sex with Mason while you were pregnant. Wondering if it would feel like there was another person in the room with you but with Mason struggling to keep his hands away from you and your hormones always sending you into a spiral you couldn’t resist. Loving how extra soft and gentle he was with you and right now was no different. Fingers lightly tracing your folds as he kissed you before pulling back to look in your eyes.

‘You’re so beautiful, you know that? All full of me’ he breathed. ‘Gonna make you feel so good’

‘Please Masey’ you begged, your need to feel him making every other thought leave your brain and when he flashed you his cheeky smile you wanted to kiss it off his face.

‘I got you love, it’s okay’ he told you, his hands moving to hold your hips and with a gentle push you knew exactly where he wanted you. ‘roll onto your side for me’

During your first pregnancy Mason turned into a very keen reader. Wanting to know the ins and outs of what the pair of you were about to go through and the most comfortable sex position was one of the first things he looked into. You’d tried a few but as you got bigger the only one that ever worked for you was when you laid on your side and he spooned you but the only issue was you couldn’t look at him as much as you would have liked to.

He made up for it though, pressing gentle kisses to every part of your skin he could access and when you finally felt him pressing against you you shuddered in delight.

‘That’s it baby’ he whispered, getting into a steady rhythm but not going too hard. ‘How’s that?’

‘So good’ you breathed. Hands fisting the sheets as his were all over you and you moaned louder when he hooked your leg up slightly to have more access to you. ‘Faster please, Mase’

You felt him speed up just a touch but you knew he didn’t want to go too overboard with you. In his eyes he needed to be gentle with you, to make love to you, and you couldn’t feel more taken care of if you tried.

You could feel your high building steadily, wanting nothing more than to look at him so you tipped your head back slightly. Yours eyes looking straight into his and the soft smile on his lips made you melt.

‘Mase I’m so close’

‘I am too gorgeous, let go for me’ he whispered into your hair and that was all it took for you to reach your high. The warmth of his body pressed against yours making it feel that much more intense and when you were both finally done you just laid there content in each other's arms. ‘Happy new year to us’ Mason laughed, tucking you side gently and you tried your best to turn so you could give him a quick peck on the lips.

‘Happy new year, Mase’

[macfrog]

checkmate cowboy like me chapter nine

hi sorry it’s late please don’t hate me 🥲 would just like to note- reader's pasta is gluten free, alright? i have had too many gluten-induced traumas to write about it anymore. she is a gluten free queen. thanks parts 1-8 on my masterlist here, n my ao3 here. love u all the most!!!

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel steals you away during a family meal to give you a telling off...in the form of a quickie

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) pining reader, bratty reader, brat tamer joel, spanking, oral (m receiving), face fucking, dom!joel, orgasm denial, theft of underwear, loose mention of someone cheating, alcohol, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, marty robbins

word count: 8.1k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.” You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.” He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again. “Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.

The water dances to-and-fro, kissing the lip of the pool and splashing onto the concrete at your feet. It’s windier than normal today, trees whispering overhead, breeze taking your hair and lightly tossing it around.

You’re sat out back on a lounger, waiting for Joel to come pick you up. Joel and Sarah, that is. Picking you and your dad up. Be nice if it were just Joel, wouldn’t it? You and him, alone together again. Out on a date, or even just following him around, side by side in his truck as he goes about his day. His hand on your thigh, pretending to roll his eyes at your music choice.

As if that would ever happen. As if that could ever happen.

He and your dad have organized some dinner to celebrate yours and Sarah’s return home; some hotel resort with a restaurant looking out over the river. Your dad couldn’t remember the name of it. Said it was all Joel doing the booking.

You can still fucking hear him. Your dad. His voice lulls through the open kitchen window, the wind carrying it to your ears almost comically. You wish you could bat it away. He’s had the same Marty Robbins song stuck in his head all morning. You’d finally reached breaking point when he’d graduated from just humming it to full-volume singing, even doing his own impression of the guitar.

And now it seems that sneaking out to the backyard hadn’t rid you of the damn song either, no matter how loud the trees may be rustling.

Joel said he’d be here by now – he’s late. You slink off to the back gate to slip out front and wait for him there. And maybe also to escape your dad’s voice. No offense to the guy.

A couple minutes to six, his truck pulls up by the curb you’re perched on. Sarah climbs over the front seat to the back, and you join her.

She scoffs when you slam the door shut. “You’re eager.”

You shake your head in response, warning her with a roll of your eyes not to ask. She gives you an understanding nod and your eyes turn to Joel.

“You’re late.”

He looks back at you in the rearview mirror. “Not my fault. Traffic. We left twenty minutes ago, didn’t we?”

Sarah’s lip curls. She shrugs a little. You know he’s telling the truth.

When you turn back, Joel’s eyes are still on you, expression a little softer. A greeting. Making up for the fact he can’t wrap his arms around you, pinch your nose affectionately, kiss you to say hello. You smile back at him.

“That watch a’ yours runnin’ slow, Miller?”

Your dad’s voice is like a fucking foghorn. Sarah covers her mouth to stop a laugh from escaping her lips. He sweeps down the driveway toward the truck and you lean back in your seat. Quiet moment ruined.

Joel lightly chuckles and then gives you one last hazardous glance in the mirror before pulling off, ignoring your dad’s teasing. Probably for your benefit.

The relief of a quiet journey doesn’t last long, though. Barely five minutes in, your dad picks up the humming again.

“Dude,” you groan, “will you quit that? For the love of God.”

“It’s stuck in my damn head,” he chuckles, arms crossing defensively.

You roll your eyes again. “So your plan is to plague us all with it, too?”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s he singin’?” Sarah asks, leaning forward.

“Marty Robbins. Old song.” The lack of tone in Joel’s voice and the quick shake of his head as he says it tells you he ain’t the biggest Marty Robbins fan either. A voice inside you thanks God, like it even matters what music he’s into.

“Never heard of ‘im.”

“Lucky you,” you breathe, and your dad holds up a finger over his shoulder.

“Heard that,” he says.

“’s why I said it.”

Joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh. “You’re in a real mood today, aren’t you?”

Your head falls against the window, bumping along with the road as Joel drives.

“Hold up a second,” your dad rounds on him, “you ain’t showin’ your kid real music, are you? She doesn’t even know Marty Robbins.”

“I ain’t puttin’ her through the pain of knowin’ him.”

A smile forms across your lips. Just another thing you two agree on. Another little string connecting you both, separating you from the rest.

You almost snort at yourself. Counting strings.

Sarah interrupts your train of thought when she requests the radio be put on. Joel turns the dial up and she sits back, victorious. You stifle a laugh. But even Taylor Swift doesn’t fully drown out your dad’s voice – she sure doesn’t stop the way he bobs his head as he sings to himself. It’s helpful, all the same.

You and Joel have been quite literally counting down the hours until you’re alone together. Alone for a whole weekend. Each morning, you’ll text him to announce it’s one less day. And he’ll reply some witty comment, some crude joke, or else a thumbs up emoji which usually meant he was working, or had company and couldn’t text. Company meaning eagle-eyed Sarah.

It’s been almost a whole week since the last time you had uninterrupted, unsupervised time with him. When you could link your arms around him, feel his head lean down on top of yours, say things without threat of anyone else hearing.

Seeing him there in the front seat, inches away from you, and not being able to touch him or even talk much to him, feels like a form of torture. Makes you curse your dad ‘n his tone-deaf singing all the more.

You’re supposed to be meeting Sam and Anna and a couple others from work at Frank’s, Saturday night, 8PM sharp. Rodeo night. Your dad’s leaving for Fort Worth in the late afternoon, he said. You’d kinda sulked when he told you, realizing that left a tiny window of time you could see Joel that day.

And then he told you he’d text Joel to ask if he’d be around to pick you up from Frank’s if you needed him, and you chirped up.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be really good. Can you ask him to?”

“He said just to text you if you need ‘im, hon.”

“Cool, I will. I mean, I will if I need him. Thanks, Dad.”

If you need him. If. Just on the off-chance, right?

The thought draws a smile across your face. You reckon his presence will be very, very needed this weekend.

Soon enough, the truck pulls in to some ornamented, fountain-guarded resort, bursting with greenery and flowers, paved in pristine sandstone. A red canopy over the entrance, golden letters spelling out Hillcrest.

“Damn…” Sarah leans over into your space to get a glimpse of the building from your window. “This is so fancy.”

“You treatin’ us or somethin’, son?” your dad asks Joel.

He doesn’t reply. But his eyes flit up to meet yours, then back to the road ahead. In a one-second look, you understand.

Sarah’s still staring outside, mouth wide open, blinking eyes taking everything in. “Dad, what the f…”

“Language,” Joel clips.

You smirk. It’s funny, hearing the man who’s whispered far worse things – filthy things – to you in earshot of company, chastise his nineteen-year-old for cursing.

The four of you roll by the water feature – three robed women made of stone pouring water from vases into a pool at their feet – and park up. As you hop out, a woman in a silk dress struts by, floppy sunhat bouncing with each step she takes.

Joel meets you at the back of the truck, letting Sarah and your dad stroll off ahead. They’re busy pointing at different features of the lavish hotel – the purple-uniformed bellboys running in and out of the lobby, the glimmering revolving door, the guests eating on balconies overhead.

“You outta that mood yet?” he asks, and you snap out of your daze.

“Not in a mood,” you reply bluntly, eyes still ahead.

“Huh.” He nods, unconvinced. “Marty Robbins gettin’ to ya that much, is he?”

“Marty Robbins ain’t the problem.”

“No? What is it, then?”

His hand finds the small of your back. It straightens you up like a shot of fire through your spine.

“Not a what. A who.”

You lead him inside.

A man in a pressed white shirt greets you all at the entrance to the restaurant.

“Reservation for Miller,” Joel says, and the man nods curtly and darts off into the sea of tables.

Sarah skips off with your dad on her arm, the two of them fucking ecstatic to be somewhere so fancy and fun. You and Joel amble through, past wine coolers, dodging fleeing waiters, slipping between white-cloth tables and silver spoon diners. His hand never leaves the skin between your shoulder blades, red hot on your goosebumped skin.

You’re seated at a table by the window, overlooking the river. Joel sits opposite you, your dad by his side. Sarah nudges your elbow and holds her phone up, snapping a selfie of you both with the glimmering water in the background. She tags the location and adds text below: fine dining. Her thumbs search for emojis, picking two champagne glasses, some sparkles, and a pink heart. Then she swaps the heart for a smiley face, and tilts the phone to you, wordlessly asking for your approval.

“Cute,” you tell her, and she beams, hittingpost.

The server returns, hands out menus, leaves a jug of ice water and some fancy bottle of wine you’ve never heard of by the table, and then nods his head once again before he rushes off. Your dad salutes him as he goes. You cringe.

“Boy’s gonna take a damn heart attack,” Joel mutters, watching your dad lift the wine from its bucket.

Sarah’s watching, too. She looks from the bottle of wine over to Joel, eyebrows raised. He flatly tells her, “No.”

“Come on,” she protests, “it’s not like anybody here knows what age I am.”

“We know.”

“Dad, I–”

“Water, or nothin’.”

Her eyes dagger into his. “You ain’t exactly a stickler for the rules yourself,” she breathes, sliding the jug across the table, and you scoff.

You’ve seen her do worse on her Instagram stories, and the way she glares at you warns you not to open your mouth. If Joel’s this pressed about some wine with a meal, it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t have a social media account.

“Let’s toast,” your dad announces as he pours wine into three of the glasses, “to…to you girls bein’ back home…” He raises his wine and Sarah lifts her little water, lemon slice floating on top. “…and to a fun summer ahead. Hm?”

You and Joel both hesitate a little before lifting your drinks, clinking them softly against each other with a glint in your eyes.

A fun summer. Sure. You’re certainly having fun. Yeah.

You watch Joel as you take a sip, frowning at the bitter taste. His mouth twists just like yours, neck winces as he swallows. Then he promptly slides his glass along the table back to your dad, clearing his throat and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“No?” you ask, amused.

“Not my thing.”

You tilt your head. “Maybe they have Bud at the bar.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that?”

You flash a proud grin at him. The denim of his jeans brushes against your ankles. Your dad takes Sarah up in conversation. No one would see if you just…

Under the long white tablecloth, you nudge open his calves and slot your feet between them. Joel’s boots close at the back of your legs, holding you to him. Holding you against him.

It feels…nice. It’s almost normal. Like something a real couple would do. Not a pair of hopeful idiots wrapped up too tight in some clandestine affair. You almost feel like you could reach for his hand, and you’re willing to bet that if it weren’t for your company, he’d let you take it. Let you part his fingers with yours. Let you run a light touch over his knuckles.

When you finally look up at Joel, he’s looking right back. Watching you. Reading your mind.

You avert your gaze, reaching to pour a glass of water.

A few quiet minutes pass while the table studies the menu. You’re still looking around, taking in your surroundings. The more you look, the more you notice. Velvet drapes framing tall Palladian windows. A man nervously checking his blazer pocket while his girlfriend’s at the bathroom. Joel’s legs give yours a wiggle and you’re drawn away from the pocket square and slicked-back hair.

He smiles affectionately. Asks in his eyes if you’re okay. Your shoulders meet your jaw with the inhale you take, and then you nod. Imperceptible. Some dumb smile across your lips that mirrors his. Like you really are on your own or something. It’s stupid.

“Reckon I’ll have the steak,” your dad says.

Joel hums in agreement, nodding.

Sarah orders a Caesar salad and you decide on the fettuccine Alfredo. The nodding waiter snaps his little black book shut and collects your menus, before disappearing again. Conversation flows across the table naturally: your dad’s big client, Joel’s working week, Sarah’s sophomore year. Of course, the Rangers are mentioned once or twice.

Your wrist is shaking your glass, watching as the water swirls around inside. The thought turns over much the same in your head. A question for Joel. When your food arrives and the chatter lulls, you brave up enough to ask it.

“You think I’m…brighter…here?”

He smiles, a little confused. “Brighter?”

“Aw, kiddo.” Your dad shakes his head, knife tearing into his steak. “I knew you’d take that to heart.”

Joel’s still looking at you. Concerned.

Sarah elbows you. “What’s that mean?”

Your dad sighs. “Bill told ‘er on Sunday she used to be miserable whenever she came home. Said that this time ‘round she looks…”

“…brighter.” You lift your hands to form air quotes around the word, pasta wrapped around the fork between your fingers.

Joel’s expression relaxes, his smile grows. “’cause of anything in particular, or…?”

You instantly regret bringing it up. He’s a dick. Has to ruin every sweet moment with a smug smirk and testosterone-induced impulses, doesn’t he?

You mock smile back and shake your head.

“Y’know what I think it is?” your dad says, and Joel finally turns to him. He nods at you and Sarah. “The pair of ‘em. Back home like old times. How long has it been since the four of us were out doin’ stuff together?”

You and Sarah exchange a sideways glance.

“I’m serious!” he says, waving his hands. Cutlery almost flying out of his grip. “It’s nice. Joel, back me up.”

Joel’s sat back in his chair, midway through cutting his steak, watching this show unfold. He clears his throat and offers, “Yeah. Real nice.”

Your dad looks defeated. He retires from the conversation, focusing on the meal in front of him.

“What are you guys gonna do all weekend without us?” Sarah asks, shoving a forkful of salad in her mouth.

“I, uh…keep forgetting y’all are goin’ away,” you lie, staring down at your pasta.

Joel clears his throat again. “This guy at work was showin’ me these videos of folks playin’ chess – did you know there are these…leagues, for chess? Professional leagues ‘n competitions. They win money, good money, for playin’ chess.”

Sarah, like everybody at the table, is quiet for a few seconds. “Is…is this your way of sayin’ y’all are gonna…play chess?”

You’re staring at Joel, amused and yet a tad embarrassed. The dude you’re sleeping with just went on a ramble about chess.

You twirl your fork in your hand before taking another bite. “I’ve never played chess. Maybe you’ll have to play it alone.”

Joel narrows his eyes. “Don’t think you can,” he says, gritting his teeth, “it’s a two-player game.”

“Nah,” Sarah chimes in. “A guy in my Physiology class plays against himself to practice. He’s pretty good, I think.”

Your head nods toward her, eyebrows raised at Joel. He’s grimacing back.

“He always goes on about speed, says it’s all about playin’ fast so your opponent ain’t got time to think. Quick hands, he says.”

Your brows arch, lips petted. Poor Joel. “Aw. Looks like you’ll be playin’ with yourself.”

His brows angle and you notice a twisted smile on his lips. Pissed – sort of aroused, but pissed. You lift your legs from between his. He holds onto your ankles with his own for a second, forcing you to stare at him, before he frees you. You tuck your legs under your chair.

Just then, Sarah’s phone vibrates on the wooden table.

“Oh, shoot, two seconds. Hello?” She screws her face up. “Are you kidding me? No way. No, I don’t– You– Kels, can I call you back in, like, an hour or something? I’ll call you back, I’m just at dinner with my dad and my…No, I’ll literally be, like– Alright. Lemme call you back. Okay.”

She hangs up and swivels in her seat to you.

“You know Kels? Kelly Ramirez?”

You draw a blank. Push your bottom lip out. “Should I know a Kelly Ramirez?”

“She played soccer with me in high school? Remember, that game you came to,” Sarah leans in, knocking your arm with the back of her hand as if giving your memory a swift kick, “she played in goal to fill in for Stephanie, and broke her ankle tryna save Amber Murphy’s shot? Passed out from the pain?”

Nothing. You shake your head.

She huffs. “Coach Lee had to drive her to the emergency room and it’s all she went on about for weeks.”

“Oh!” The penny drops. “That was her? Didn’t she carve his initials into the girls’ room stalls?”

Your dad and Joel exchange a bewildered and, quite frankly, weary glance. Sarah shuts her eyes and nods, ashamed.

“That’s her.”

“Wow. I wonder if he knew how bad her crush was…” you muse, choking back a laugh when Sarah gives you a dead-eyed stare.

“He would have,” Joel says flatly, and you both shoot him a look. “Girls ain’t good at hidin’ that sorta stuff.”

“Oh, like you’ve ever had anyone have a crush on you.” Sarah bats her hand at him and then her fingers lock around your wrist. “Anyway…”

You can see Joel’s grin from your peripheral. He gives your sneaker a tap with his boot under the table, and you feel your cheeks start to heat. You move your leg.

“…she’s just caught her boyfriend cheatin’.”

“Who has?”

Sarah huffs. “Kelly Ramirez! For cryin’ out loud, are– are you even listenin’ to me?”

“I was caught up in the Coach Lee stuff. Right. No, I’m with you now. Is she okay?”

“She suspected it for weeks. He kept cancelling plans last minute, kept coming up with dumb excuses. We were all tryna tell her, just ask ‘im. Ask him or find out for yourself. So, she did. Checked his phone and found all these messages between him ‘n some girl from college.”

“How’d she hack into his phone?” your dad asks.

Joel, head now resting against his fingers, draws him a look: Really?

“She didn’t,” Sarah tells him. “She knows his passcode. Used it to get in, I guess.”

Your dad nods, taking note, eyes narrowing. He looks over to Joel, then you. These kids and their technology, you imagine him thinking. But he’s staring a fraction too long. You shift in your seat. Give him a comical shrug – Don’t ask me – and he eventually looks away.

The rest of dinner passes smoothly – Sarah picking up her phone, rattling a message into it with her thumbs, and then dropping it back down onto the table. Your dad, battling his steak, asking Joel what he thinks of the Rangers’ chances against the Astros tonight, and Joel…well, Joel not taking his attention off of you for one second.

He’s answering your dad, saying all the right things at the right times, but anytime his eyes lift off of his plate, they land on you. Your arm, draped on the tablecloth. Your hand, moving pasta around your dish with your fork. Your eyes, flitting between the view outside to that inside.

You can see him the entire time. Watching you. You’re not fucking blind. If Sarah didn’t have Kelly Ramirez spamming her phone with cheating boyfriend updates, she’d probably be commenting on it. Did she grow a second head, or somethin’? she’d quip.

But you never look back. Not once. Just let him observe you, let him wait for a glance or a kick of the foot that never comes.

You’re leant back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, when the waiter clears your table. Watching some couple wander off down the riverside path. She’s wearing a white sundress that dances around her calves with each slow step she takes. He’s in a plain black tee, tan arm around her back. Looking around at the view, taking it all in.

Then she turns on her heel to him. He lifts a hand to move her long, dark braids from her face, drops it to cup her jaw. Pulls her in to him, presses his lips to hers. Her hands are linked at his spine. Like they’re the only two people in the world.

There’s a feeling in the depths of your chest. A throb. Uncomfortable. Maybe even painful. You shift in your seat to move it, but it doesn’t budge. Your gaze falls, travelling along the window frame, onto the white cloth and to Joel’s elbow. Up his arm, across his shoulder.

You reach his jaw and look away. He’s watching everything.

“Alright,” your dad’s hands slap down on his thighs, “we good to go?”

“You go on,” Joel tells him. “I’ll get the bill.”

“Absolutely not, bud,” your dad protests. You and Sarah both lean back in your chairs at the same time. May as well get comfortable, we could be here a while.

“I got it,” Joel says, almost annoyed, getting up to stand. Your dad follows suit. Joel holds a hand out. “I’m sure you’ll repay me somehow. Hey, I got that job in a couple weeks I said I might need you for. Help me out and we’re even.”

Your dad’s hands are on his hips. “I ain’t happy about this, Joel.”

“Stick,” Joel mutters. “I’m sure I’ve done worse that you’ve forgiven me for.”

His eyes finally find yours and your cheeks flush. He covers it by gesturing to you to stand up with a snap of his head.

Why was that hot? Is it…weird…? That that was hot? All he did was nod his head.

You stand – Sarah copies you, sliding her chair under the table. Joel pushes yours in for you. His hand’s on your back again, fingers drawing circles. The four of you are walking toward the exit. Your dad’s still murmuring about owing money.

“Hey,” Sarah calls, pointing, “this place has an outdoor bar. Let’s go check it out.”

Your head’s beginning to dizzy. Why is your head dizzying?

Stick.

The way he pointed, flicked his head toward the door. Knowing you’d just fucking obey him. And you did.

Yep. That was hot. Hot enough that it restarts something in you; something deep down begins to wind. An idea sweeps across your mind.

Sunlight bursts through the French doors up ahead, golden rays flooding in through the glass panes. Joel stoops his head as he wanders through, dodging ivy draped around the doorway. On the other side, drowned in daylight, a paved courtyard.

There are tables and chairs dotted around. Benches in front of flowerbeds. More random statues – a cherub, a rearing horse. Wooden planters with vines growing toward the sky. Another slightly smaller fountain in the middle.

This…is fucking insane. Last night for dinner you ate leftover Chinese food ‘cause your dad was working late. Tonight, you’re strolling through a five-star hotel garden after the best fettucine of your life.

Ahead of you and Joel, your dad nudges Sarah and comically offers her his arm, elbow outstretched. She nods graciously and links her arm in his, and they saunter off, chins up, dumb grins across their faces.

Joel scoffs. Your lips tug a little, chest still tight. Body still tense. And he senses it.

“What?”

You shake your head. “Nothin’. Just…taking in the view.”

“’s nice, ain’t it?”

“Mhm,” you admit. “Word on the street is it was all your idea.”

“Wanted somewhere nice for you. For both of you. Didn’t know it would be this nice, but…it’s what you deserve.”

Your eyelashes flutter, blinking rapidly to conceal the look in your eye. The look that says…something dangerous. You betray the thoughts circling around your head and press your lips together in a tight smile. “Thanks,” is all you can muster the strength to say.

Joel looks forward; your dad and Sarah are strides ahead, still gawking at the garden, chatting, snapping photos.

“It improve your mood any?”

“I already told you, I ain’t in a mood.”

“That why you couldn’t look at me at dinner?”

It stops you in your tracks. You glare at him. Almost about to punch him out of frustration, right before you catch yourself and your expression softens.

“Did you want me to look at you?” you coo, leaning in a little. Your hands rest on his forearms.

Joel tenses. Opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. But you want him to fucking say it. So, you push further.

“What we were doin’ under the table wasn’t enough? Poor baby. Guess you just wanted more of my attention, huh?”

His expression doesn’t change. Lips barely move when he utters, “Thin ice, kid.”

You shrug. “I’m not the one begging you to look at me.”

He swallows. His eyes are staring you down, huge, glowing warm in the evening sunlight. There’s so much energy thrumming around your body that you feel almost faint, like your knees could give. Just swoon, fall into his arms.

“I’m bored,” you back up, turning back to the hotel, “going to the bathroom.”

You’re gone before he can react. Taking off for the doors, stumbling out of the sun and into the cool restaurant, catching your breath when you’re safely in the shade.

You approach the bar – a deep, shiny mahogany, wine glasses hanging from above, glistening footrail at the bottom. Intricately carved, varnished and smooth. Bottles of spirits and ales and wines decorate the back wall, lined up on shelves against a glimmering mirror.

Two girls in black polo shirts stand, elbows leaning against the back shelf.

“I served a duck the other night,” one of them says to the other. She has short brown hair, freckles painted across her nose. A tattoo down her right arm. She twirls a pen between her fingers as she speaks.

“A duck?” The second girl screws her face up.

“Yep. When I gave him the check, he told me to put it on his bill.”

The second girl snorts. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, excuse me?” you call over, and the girl with the tattoo steps forward, still laughing. “Where are the restrooms?”

“Upstairs,” she nods to the doors by your side, “they’re on the right.”

You nod in thanks and she twirls the pen again, resuming position.

The bathroom is freezing cold when you burst into it, almost panting, and stumble across to the sink. Your palms plant firmly on the marble countertop, head falling limp between your shoulders. When you look up to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a laugh passes your lips.

You look…flustered. Bothered. You’re not sure if Joel noticed it. You were too busy trying to conceal it to gauge whether he’d caught on.

What the fuck is he doing to you? More importantly, how is he doing it to you? Can you seriously not go a couple days without him? Need, want, desire. Everything he causes, only he can fix.

But then, he never can fucking fix it. There’s always something or someone in the way. And you swear Joel gets off on it – watching you need him, miss him, pine for him, and knowing he won’t be able to relieve it.

Staring at yourself, you start to feel that energy charging up again. Heat pooling between your legs, blood drumming through your veins. What the fuck is he doing to me? Nothing, he’s not doin’ nothing.

Nothing I can’t do right back to him.

You push yourself off of the sink and shoot one last glance in the mirror, giving your reflection an affirming nod before striding over to the door. It swings shut behind you as you pace down the hall, feeling a lot more steel and a lot less sweet.

As you round the corner to head downstairs, a familiar shadow stalks up the last two steps and bursts into the hallway. Without a word, his arm hooks around yours and he drags you back the way you came.

“Joel– What the fuck are you doin’–?”

He passes by the restrooms and onto a plush red carpet. In a blur, he flings open the first door in sight and throws you inside, ignoring your gasps.

He slams the door shut, whipping you around to shove you against it. From over his shoulder, you notice your surroundings. A bed over by the window, pristine white sheets tucked perfectly under the mattress. Nightstands spotless, desk against the wall topped with a tray holding a bottle of wine and a tiny card that reads Welcome to the Hillcrest.

You’re in one of the hotel’s rooms. One of the hotel’s empty rooms.

Of course it’s empty. It’s like he fucking planned it.

“Alright. A hotel room. Did you book it, at least?”

“Naw,” his eyes scan you up and down, “I didn’t fuckin’ book it.”

“So…what are we doing in here?”

Joel’s pressing against you, forcing you up against the wooden door. Caging you against it with the weight of his body. Clearly, in the time you spent giving yourself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, Joel was doing the exact same downstairs. The fucker.

“Said you were bored. ‘n that’s a real shame, given I just took you to dinner. Ain’t no pleasin’ you, is there?”

Your head rolls back against the door with a laugh. “That really got to you? So, what, now you’re gonna fuck me? Wine, dine, ‘n…yeah?”

Joel’s lips are tight, eyes staring you down. He’s seething. He’s turned on, and he’s seething. Exactly where you want him.

“You get sluttier every fuckin’ day, you know that?”

You nod, teeth taking your bottom lip. “You like it, though, huh?”

Joel doesn’t reply. You lean in closer to him.

“You like me bein’ a little slut,” you whisper, running a hand softly over his hard jeans, “just for you, don’t you?”

His voice lowers in response. “Not when I can’t do nothin’ about it.”

You pull back, cocking an eyebrow. Angle your head. “You’re the one who pulled me in here. It’s an empty hotel room, man. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

He glowers at you. His face rigid, one hand still locked around yours, almost assisting you in palming himself; the other above your head, flat against the door.

His head dips. Jaw lines with yours, breath against your ear.

“Whatever the fuck I want?”

“Mhm.” You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. Not that either of you care. Then you pause. “Oh! Wait.”

Joel lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. Looks like you just cut in front of some spiel he had planned.

Your cheeks swell. “Do you have a bottle?”

“A bottle?”

“Beer bottle. You need me to go grab one? What if they don’t have beer? It’s kind of a fancy place. Would wine work? Or is it only beer that gets you goin’–”

“Alright. Enough. Fuckin’ – brat.”

You cock your head, tongue in your cheek, pushing around the shape of your mouth. Keep going.

You spurt out a laugh. “I’m a brat?”

“Yep. Never do as you’re fuckin’ told.”

You lean in close, lips brushing off of his, so close you can taste him. Feel how tense his jaw is. Your voice is low, barely above a whisper.

“Then…make me.”

Joel’s still staring you down, watching you like a predator watches its prey. His eyes are so dark you can’t read the thoughts behind them, but the way his grip tightens on your wrist, so rough it feels like he’s fucking bruising you, the way he yanks you off of the door, tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“I ain’t got time for this,” he hisses, pulling you over to the bed.

You stagger behind him, still snickering. Joel sinks down into the mattress, thighs apart, pulling you to stand between them. You look him up and down once, smirking, his hands still roughly gripping yours. Then –

In one fluid movement, you’re over his knee. Thighs digging into your stomach, face hovering over the soft carpet. Your hands grip his calf to hold onto something – anything – as he pulls the hem of your dress up so roughly, you’re sure he’s ripped it.

“You want to act like a brat?” he asks, and you smile, feeling his hand run from the back of your knee up your thigh, coming to rest on your ass. “Get treated like one.”

The first time his huge palm slaps against your skin, your mind blanks. The sharp sting, Joel’s grunt as his hand comes down on you. The way your body jerks, and the whine you let slip as it does. The throb when he lifts his hand, the cold air hissing against your heated skin.

He’s fucking – he’s…He has you in an empty hotel room, door unlocked, entire lobby of people downstairs. Over his knee, skirt hiked to your waist, spanking you. Hard.

And then you realize. You fucking like this.

“Joel…” you moan, catching your breath when it comes back.

Another sharp sting.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop? You gonna stop bein’ a little brat?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, filthy grin on your lips.

“F-fuck no.”

He slaps you again. You whimper, wrapping your arms around his leg.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so. Can feel how wet you are for me.”

He curls a finger around the hem of your panties and drags them down your thighs, letting them drop off of your legs and to the floor while his fingers return between your legs, running up and down your slit. You whine.

“Such a pretty little mouth, huh? You were runnin’ it just a second ago. Where’d all your big talk go?”

You open your mouth to reply, barely even make a sound, and his palm smacks against your ass again. He’s not done.

“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t you?” he grunts, hand coming down on you again. “You remember that day I ran you home?”

You whimper in response – yeah, I remember.

“You ‘n me alone, you being a little fucking tease. Wanted to fuck you so badly, baby. Those tight little shorts you were in…fuck…”

“Why…didn’t…you…?” you whine, muffled into the denim of his jeans. “Would’ve…fuck…let you.”

“Yeah? You wanted me to, darlin’?”

“Wanted…you,” slap, “in the kitchen.”

You gasp when Joel’s grip becomes tighter around your waist, holding you still as his hand sears against your ass. Rougher. Harder. It turns you on more.

“Wanted you in my mouth.”

You swear his breath catches. Swear you can feel his hand hovering over you, almost ready to spank you again, but he pauses.

“That right, baby? In your mouth?”

You nod, unsure if he can even see you. And then you feel him bend, feel his fist in your hair, lifting your head until his lips are curled around the shell of your ear.

“You wanna show me what you woulda done?” he whispers, breath hot.

Your body’s still shaking, throbbing; you’re a sobbing mess, but still, you utter: “Yeah.”

Joel pulls you all the way off his lap then, widening his legs for you to sit between them.

“Gotta be quick, babygirl,” he tells you, pushing you by the shoulders down onto the carpet.

Your knees part to lower yourself closer to his crotch, fingers shakily fumbling with his zipper. Joel helps you, shifting his jeans until his cock springs free. He’s as hard as if you’d been playing with him this entire time, so hard you almost begin to drool at the sight of him.

He sighs shakily, hand leaning behind on the mattress to steady himself. “You’re gonna sit there like a good girl and make me cum, alright?”

You nod, eyes blown black with lust.

He grips the back of your head with one hand and guides his cock to your mouth with the other. You take his thick length in both hands, allowing a trail of spit to fall from your lips and cover his swollen tip, running down his shaft only to be collected and dragged back up by your fingers.

“Good girl,” Joel whispers, watching you. “Doin’ what I tell you, huh?”

A few strokes and his cock’s soaked. When his head lines up with your bottom lip and you open up wide, he pushes into your mouth, filling you up without stopping to let you catch your breath. You gag when he hits the back of your throat, and Joel groans.

“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.”

You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock.

“Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.”

He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again.

“Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.

“Yeah?” he bucks his hips up into your mouth. “You want ‘em to know? Why don’t I just take you downstairs right now, fuck you in front of everybody, huh? You like that?”

You whine, gasp something that sounds like a yes around his warm skin.

“Thought you would, fuckin’ dirty girl. Want everyone to see just how good you take me, hm? How fuckin’ wet you get for me?”

Your fingers reach for his balls, kneading them softly in your hands. Joel’s head tips back and he lets out a guttural groan.

“Look at you,” he purrs, “soakin’ wet all over the floor, lettin’ me fuck that pretty little mouth. Needed it bad, didn’t you?”

You follow the words he’s saying with your eyes, never taking your doe-eyed gaze off of him. He’s all you can see; the surrounding world blurred by lust and sex and by Joel.

“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he mutters.

You pull yourself off of him, disobeying his tight grip at the back of your head.

“Yeah?” you breathe, giving in to him. “Been thinkin’ about you, too.”

Joel almost looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. He’s never expecting any of what you say to come out of your mouth, is he?

Hell, you don’t expect half of what comes out of your fucking mouth these days.

You sink back down on him, eyes screwing shut with the feeling of him filling you up to the very bottom of your throat.

“So slutty, baby. You like that? Yeah?”

He’s speaking so soft but being so fucking rough, pushing you down onto his dick and then hauling you back off with a fistful of hair. His hips snap against your mouth and your hands leave his body to balance yourself on his thighs, stabilizing yourself with fingers through his loose belt loops.

You’re gagging on him, choking every time his salty head brushes against your throat, but Joel doesn’t stop. Each whimper, each muffled cry from you only pushes him closer, sends his head back in a wave of euphoria at the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth so good, the sounds of you choking on the size of him.

Your chin is soaked, dripping with spit and precum. Your cheeks dappled with tears. He doesn’t let up. You don’t fucking want him to. Your knees are slipping further apart, your cunt wetter than ever, dripping all over the plush carpet of the classiest hotel you’ve ever been in.

It’s fucking filthy, and you love every second of it.

Your lids grow heavy and you stare up at him, doused in rays from the window behind, blissed out on his body, him blissed out on yours, and you know he’s about to cum. His brows arch, his jaw falls slack. He��s focusing only on the feeling of your swollen lips around him, your throat contracting with each thrust of his hips.

He jerks, grunts out a, “Throat?”

“Uhuh,” you choke back, hands clamping around his thighs when he leans back.

One more jolt and he releases rope after rope of warm cum down you, painting the back of your throat and filling up your mouth. That all-too-familiar taste of Joel trickles all over your tongue.

He’s whispering, “Fuck, fuck, darlin’, fuck…” over and over, chanting your name, breathing curses and praises between.

When he stills and you feel him relax, your hands fall limp on your lap. You don’t move, not until Joel’s eyes flutter open and he slides his soft cock out of your mouth.

Your head rolls onto his thigh, eyes wide and soft as you gaze up at him. Equal parts enamored and painfully aroused.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he tells you. “Brats don’t get to fucking cum.”

There are words coming to your mind that you wouldn’t dare call him when he’s in this mood. Words you wouldn’t call him any other time, either, if it weren’t for the agonizing ache between your legs. This – fucking – guy.

You want to sob. Want to wrap yourself around his legs as he stands and beg him to throw you down on the bed, part your legs, use whatever the fuck he wants just to let you cum. Just to give you some release.

It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Dumb for this man.

He sits forward and tucks his limp cock back into his boxers, redoes his jeans. Then he leans down, scoops up your soaked panties and scrunches them in his fist. He slips them into his jeans pocket and, with a heaving sigh, pushes himself up from the bed.

You’re still squatted, knees apart, on the carpet. Arousal probably streaming out of you. Joel only lowers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you up to height. You still don’t believe he’s gonna let you walk out of here undealt with.

Until he wanders off toward the door, and there’s nothing left for you to do but follow.

Each step hurts, your thighs grazing against each other. Your naked cunt throbbing with every tiny movement.

Joel pauses at the door, turns the handle slowly, quietly, opening it just enough to poke his head and shoulders out, before beckoning you forward with a wave of his hand.

He blindly takes your wrist and leads you out of the room in a daze, letting the door close over as you both head back the way you came toward the staircase.

Under spotless chandeliers, past romantic paintings. Along the same plush carpet he’d shoved you along less than twenty minutes ago. Down the stairs, emerging at the bar, pair of you scanning the restaurant for your dad and Sarah. No sign of them.

“C’mon,” he nudges you, “still gotta get that bill.”

You stand by Joel’s side at the bar, catching a glimpse of the pair of you in the mirror opposite. Elbows touching, palms inches apart on the polished surface. Your heart swells to the point of almost hurting at the sight. The cover is back up, you’re back on planet earth; you’re nothing but a pair of acquaintances, friends at best.

Just a guy and his best bud’s daughter.

Joel’s tapping his credit card against the wood.

“What’s up?” you ask him.

“Hm?” he replies, eyes finding you, head still facing forward. Almost bracing for your dad’s appearance at any given moment.

“You’re being weird.”

“Ain’t being weird.”

“Still not gonna let me cum?”

He’s almost startled. You asked it quiet enough that nobody would’ve heard, if there were even anybody around you, but still. It feels like dangerous territory talking about it this out in the open.

“Nope,” he replies, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You know I’m gonna do it myself the second I get home, right?”

He shrugs. “You gonna call me?”

“Facetime you, if you want.”

His body goes rock solid. You knock into it, smirking. Before he can muster up a reply, the girl with the tattoo shows back up, smiling at Joel. He tells her the table number and she slides him the bill.

“How much is it?” you ask him.

He turns to look at you. “You won’t be findin’ out.”

You mock offense. A small part of you isn’t kidding. “’n why’s that?”

Joel ignores you. You twist over his arm to get a look and he bats you away, holding you at bay with his elbow while he places his card over the total amount and slides it back across the bar.

You admit defeat, though it kills you a little inside.

Joel does his little head nod again and you follow him to the exit. You walk out of the restaurant together, your chin as high as your shame will allow it, Joel’s parallel to his chest. Your dad’s stood against the truck deep in conversation with Sarah. Or, rather, Sarah’s deep in conversation at your dad.

“…so, she thought he was just textin’ his boys, but here she goes onto his Instagram messages, and it’s all these hearts, all these messages sayin’…”

“Where did you two get to?”

Joel opens the door for you silently, and you breathe a slightly awkward Thanks before climbing in.

Once he’s back in the front seat alongside your dad, he replies. “Charged me twice. Problem with the card reader.”

“I hope they apologized,” your dad says with a concerned tone. “Hope they ain’t tryin’ anythin’.”

“Nah,” Joel bats it away – unconvincingly. Or is that just because you know he just…you know.

Sarah’s still yapping – Kelly’s heartbroken, doesn’t know how she’s gonna go on. She – Sarah – is furious with Kelly’s boyfriend – ex-boyfriend? – his name is…Mike? Mick? Something beginning with M…Your ears are screaming.

“Happened to me once at a gas station. Charged twice for one tank a’ gas. I went back the next day ‘n asked the girl, she said she didn’t remember me. I showed her the bank statement, said, Why the hell would I need two tanks of gas for one vehicle? She had to call her manager. It was…insanity, Joel. You be careful.”

Joel’s pretending to listen, murmuring Right and Uhuh when appropriate, but he aims every second glance at you from the rearview mirror. You tug your skirt as far down your thighs as it’ll go, feeling exposed and guilty and ashamed and yet so fucking good all in one.

You can still taste him on your tongue. Your throat feels raw, your jaw sore. He knows it, from the looks he’s giving you in the mirror. It’s satisfaction, mixed with longing, mixed with guilt. Your underwear is in his front pocket. Your thighs clamp shut, feeling yourself seeping all over his backseat. One big, chaotic mess.

The car falls into silence, Sarah’s thumbs typing rapidly, Joel’s elbow propped against the window, cheek leaning on his knuckles. You lean your own head against the window, the engine drumming into your skull, the cold of the glass relieving your scorching skin. Your dad starts quietly singing again, and you wish you had the energy to put on a convincing voice to tell him to shut up.

“Maybe tomorrow a bullet may find me, tonight, nothing’s worse than this pain in my heart.”

----------

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[vlrspace]

where’s everybody? yuuji wonders as he walks through the dorms, looking for his friends, who seemingly disappeared from the face of earth. he long stopped calling out names, already feeling a little defeated by the fact that he will spend his saturday afternoon alone.

it doesn’t bother the pink haired male as much anymore, he’s used to being alone even when his grandpa was alive. still, the slight sting in his heart and the small lump in the back of his throat is something he can’t evade. though right before his mood swings towards the gloomier side, yuuji takes a big breath and decides to might as well make something to eat and maybe watch a movie too, there’s no point in sulking around.

what he doesn’t expect is hearing the sound of music from the kitchen, following by the clinking of dishes.

as he opens up the door, yuuji sees you leaning over the kitchen isle in the middle of the room, looking at a battered up book, reading to yourself. he contemplates to silently turn around and go back to his room, not wanting to be a bother but you look up at him after hearing someone stepping into the room.

and when a sweet smile spreads across your face, yuuji finds himself not wanting to leave.

“yuuji! wanna bake cookies with me?” you ask excitedly upon seeing him and you stand straight back up, waiting for his answer.

at your question, the boy opposite of you feels warmth spreading through his whole body and he’s sure there is a faint blush on his cheeks. you’ve been nothing but kind to him ever since he joined jujutsu tech, his pretty upperclassman who’s the definition of an angel. his heart flutters with every smile you send his way and he could literally melt in your arms every time you hug him.

so without hesitation, yuuji replies “yes, i’d love to!” even if he hadn’t baked cookies before and has no clue what to do.

“great, come here then” you invite him closer happily as you make him space, so he can also read the instructions in the book as well. “have you baked cookies before?” you ask, while looking up at him with bright eyes and yuuji feels butterflies flying around in his tummy.

“no, no i haven’t” he answers with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head and you take the book in your hands, standing a little closer to him.

“well it’s quite easy, you can never make the cookie dough wrong, but we have to make sure we take it out of the oven in time, so they aren’t burned to crisp” you explain and yuuji can’t tear his eyes away from you. “what kind of cookies do you want to make?”

yuuji doesn’t care what kind of cookies you two make, as long as he gets to spend time with you, alone like this. he can’t seem to function properly anyways, because you stand a little too close to him, not that he minds, and the smell of your strawberry shampoo and the whiff of your parfume fills up his nostrils, he feels very comfortable being around you.

that’s why yuuji tells you, he doesn’t mind, he’s not a picky eater and he’s happy making cookies however you like. you excitedly nod and the two of you get prepared to make chocolate chip cookies.

ten minutes later, the two of you are well into making the cookie dough and while you sometimes chime into the conversation with the instructions, you and yuuji talk about anything and everything that’s on your minds.

“do you know where everyone is?” yuuji asks curiously and you think for a second before answering.

“well as far as i know, nobara and maki went shopping or more like nobara dragged maki with her” you let out a laugh and yuuji joins you because he can imagine that be the case. “yuuta is still abroad on a mission. panda and toge went to get a few groceries because it’s their turn to make dinner tonight” you fist bump the air and yuuji can only agree with you because the two second years do cook well, but it makes him wonder if you’d like his cooking too.

“and megumi?” he asks before he’d get too into his head about you.

“i don’t actually know where he is” you say with your brows furrowed and you only shrug after a few seconds. “he might be in his room, you know how he likes his space” your response makes yuuji sulk over the dough in his hands and a visible pout forming on his face.

“i knocked on his door and got no response” he mumbles dejectedly and you let out a little giggle at his reaction.

“awh, it’s okay yuuji don’t take it to heart, that’s just how megumi is and besides we get to hang out together. and you know, i really like spending my time with you” your last words are softer and quieter, your gaze remains on your own cookie dough and you hope that your blush isn’t as visible because your face sure feels hot.

it’s funny how you thought that you could keep your feelings at bay, but it’s proven to be a real struggle when he’s a few inches away from you with his large, veiny hands and the loose white shirt does nothing to hide his broad shoulders and muscular body and you don’t even want to think about those grey joggers. and yuuji is so nice, not many boys your age are this friendly and kind, he’s also very funny and strong willed (you can’t imagine what it’s like to exist with sukuna in the same body). you’re somewhat grateful that you are a year above him because you would have a hard time being around him as classmates, while also heavily crushing on him.

you hadn’t realised that yuuji moved away from his spot, his own dough completely flattened out and ready to be portioned into smaller shapes. you are nowhere near that far, though that is no surprise, with a natural raw strength like yuuji’s, he has no trouble with flattening out cookie doughs or anything really.

his firm chest pressing against your back is the first thing you feel, conjoined with his larger, warmer but slightly sticky hands on your own ones, helping you with the dough as his lips hover just above your left ear.

when did he move behind you like that?

“i like spending my time with you too” he replies lowly, pressing you a little into the kitchen isle as he works the dough with your hands.

yuuji doesn’t know what’s got into him, his body moved on its own and in a second he was behind and on you. he can feel sukuna’s energy slightly fading and yuuji guesses this whole thing was his idea. for once, he’s thankful for the evil curse, but he hopes that you aren’t uncomfortable.

the last thing yuuji wants is for you to be uncomfortable, with him.

your breathing is a little rapid from his actions, but then he feels you leaning into him and yuuji feels the butterflies doing another round of flying in his tummy. it isn’t like you aren’t the same, mainly after his words, your mind feels a little hazy as you feel a sudden wave of happiness washing over you.

yuuji presses your hands against the dough gently, not wanting to hurt you. the process is a little slower than when he was doing it alone and when you two are finished, it makes the boy chuckle at how quick you are to grab a cookie cutter, your butt pressing into his crotch softly (he can barely stop a groan leaving his mouth) and he wraps his right hand around yours and the two of you begin to press the cutter into the dough.

your left hands are intertwined on the kitchen isle, his palm completely engulfing yours as the two of you continue on working in silence.

@/vlrspce, 2023

[gay-dorito-dust]

can you write atsv characters reacting to a masc or Gn reader being super motherly/fatherly to a kitten? Just romantic stuff no smut

Miles Morales felt the beginnings of a smile stretch across his lips when he caught you helping the kitten dip their paws into some paint and then letting them parade about the canvas, leaving colourful paw prints in their wake with a variety of colours that meshed well despite their opposing components.

(He secretly thanks that it ain’t acrylic paint cuz that’s a bastard to get out, trust me.)

It made his heart swell at the wholesome sight that he couldn’t help but join in on the fun by drawing about the paw prints, making adjustments so that they’d look like a portrait of a field of unique paw shaped flowers, whilst adding his own flair of art style by sketching out the sky before bringing out the marker pens and colouring pencils that he had laying about.

Bonus if he has some music playing in the background because it means you and the little kitten get a private concert when Miles starts singing the lyrics under his breath as he’s taken away to his happy place. You loved getting to see his art in process as you got to appreciate the dedication he puts into each of his works and it brought an even bigger smile to his face when the brown kitten would try to follow the lines of his pencil as though it were a laser; so much so that the finished product was made of lines that stopped and started elsewhere but Miles was talented enough to make it into a work of art worth having in a museum somewhere.

‘Watch out Miles, you’re not the only artist in this family anymore.’ You teased as you both watched as the kitten dipped their paws back into some paint and walking across the bottom of the canvas so it would look as those some of the petals of the flowers had wilted off. ‘He takes after me, don’t you little man?’ Miles says as he puts a hand out -palm up- for the kitten, uncaring that there’d be a smeared purple paw print there afterwards, he was use to getting a little messy. You chuckled at the interaction, ‘so does that mean I’ll be expecting frequent collaborations between you two in the nearby future?’ He shrugs but before he could open his mouth, the brown kitten mewled at you both, making you look at him as he sat next to the canvas that looked to be filled with more colourful white paw prints that doted the sky like stars, ‘that’s to be discussed.’ Miles tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before picking up the kitten to wash his paws whilst you put the canvas somewhere safe to dry.

Pavitr Prabhakar felt as though he could die of cuteness overload when he caught you and the kitten you both had rescued engaging in a multitude of playful games; one of which being based off is something you’ve noticed that the kitten would do whenever you disappeared from it’s sight, where it would then mewl loudly, only stopping when you gave in and poked your head out from the doorway as though it did nothing. So now and then you or Pav would purposefully hide yourselves from the kitten and wait until it either starts mewling or looks for you both themselves; then and only then would you reveal yourselves before repeating the process to see whether or not the kitten had gotten closer then last time.

Another thing you liked to do with the kitten was have them in your lap as you lightly tickled their tummy before pulling away as the kitten imitated your movements by stretching their paws above their head before you proceeded to tickle their stomachs some more and repeating the process; each time dying at how cute your little kitten was that you couldn’t help but cover them in a flurry of tiny kisses against their fur.

You didn’t acknowledge Pavitr until you heard the sound of a photo being taken which was when your head whipped in the direction the sound came from, only to spot Pav with his phone in hand. ‘How long have you been standing there?’ You asked him as the kitten had started to drift to sleep in your lap, leeching off of your warmth. ‘Long enough to capture a photo of my two beloveds and make it my Lock Screen.’ He responded as he turned his phone to show you the picture he had taken and needless to say his photography skills were phenomenal; the picture has captured the moment beautifully and the way the light from a nearby window beaming down onto you and the kitten, silhouetting you both somewhat, as you smiled down at the kitten with an abundance of love and affection in your eyes as the kitten looked to have reciprocated those feelings by looking up at you in an admirable way.

‘It’s a beautiful picture but it’s missing something.’ You tell him.

Pavitr makes a face as he sits down next to you, where the kitten then shifted from your lap to his, purring in content as he ran his fingers over the kittens fur. ‘What would that be?’

‘You.’ You said blatantly as you grabbed his phone from him and took another picture but this time with all three of you; that picture picture quickly became Pavitr’s favourite as it took over as his new screen lock that he loves to look at whenever he felt down or needed a reminder of what he’s got waiting for him after the day was over. The life of being Spider-Man was hectic but it was made all the more worth it when he got to experience moments where it was just you, him and your little fur baby.

Miles, gwen and Hobie would have these types of photos shoved in their face whenever they meet up, but they didn’t mind as it was a sight to see Pavitr beaming as brightly as he did when you or the kitten were brought into the conversation. He’s a proud cat dad with a whole album dedicated to capturing the kitten within every moment of it’s life.

Gwen Stacy stood at the doorway, watching with slight amusement as you set up a makeshift bed for the kitten -a russian blue, you later found out- that was drifting fast asleep on your pillow. Gwen wasn’t that partial to keeping the kitten, mainly because in due to the amount of commitment you’d both have to put in to raising them, but it seemed as though you were more then willing to put in the work as the moment you both found the poor thing seeking shelter underneath a parked car after Gwen heard it’s mewls for help.

You personally made sure that the kitten was being fed, hydrated, bathed, and just overall taken care of while she looked for a good family that would properly take care of Blue; a name you had only just recently picked out after a week of temporarily housing the kitten. However it seemed as though overtime your bond with Blue had deepened significantly to the point where most of the spare space you had became play areas for your newest addition. ‘They seemed to have made themselves quite content there don’t you think.’ Gwen points out and you couldn’t help but internally coo at content Blue looked upon your bed and how their entire body was almost submerged within your bedding, you didn’t have the heart to move them in fear of disrupting their sleep.

‘Yeah, seems as though they have, cheeky little bugger.’ You said fondly as you moved away from what was originally going to be the designated place for Blue’s bed and knelt by the side of your bed, lightly running your fingers through Blue’s soft fur as a soft smile beamed across your face at their comfortability to be vulnerable in front of you and Gwen. ‘You love them don’t you?’ She asked as she moved into the room and knelt beside you and resting her head against your shoulder, having watched you build a trust bond with this kitten made her rethink her whole ideology on have a pet, that if she did find a proper home for Blue. She doesn’t think she could handle seeing how heartbroken you’d be in having to give up the kitten you’ve spent countless hours and sleepless nights raising as though they were your own; which was why she had stopped looking entirely weeks ago but never told you.

You rested your head atop of Gwen’s as you sighed, ‘of course I do,’ you tell her, ‘as tiering as raising this little primadona was, it was all worth it.’

‘Then it’s settled then.’ She tells you and you looked at her in confusion. ‘We’re keeping the kitten and besides,’ she shrugs, ‘I couldn’t find a suitable home for them and you’re both too adorable to split apart.’ Upon hearing this your eyes brightened, ‘does that mean we’re cat parents now.’ You whispered excitedly to Gwen as she could could only smile back from how infectious your happiness was and how she was happy in being the one to bring that happiness out of you, knowing firsthand how deeply you loved Blue and now she wanted to be apart of that too. ‘Yes y/n, we’re cat parents now.’ Gwen agreed as she looked at Blue as they slept. ‘Welcome to the family Blue Stacy.’

Hobie Brown could tell there was a change in your demeanour when you returned home, completely drenched and with your jacket bundled in your arms as though you were crawling something; It also didn’t help that it had been raining for the past week.

‘Are you mad?’ Was the first thing he asked and you shrugged, knowing he was more worried then he was upset, ‘I’d like to think that I’m mentally sound.’ You replied without a hitch. Hobie sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leant against the wall. ‘Would you at least tell me what’s so important that you had to take your jacket off, whilst in the rain no less.’ Before you could speak, your bundled up jacket moved in your arms restlessly until you eventually unraveled it to reveal a scruffy looking kitten with dirty brown fur.

Hobie should’ve known that you went out of your way to make sure that the kitten was kept out of the rain, even if it resulted in you catching a cold the next day from doing so but he knew you’d do it again in a heartbeat; It was in your nature to uplift others into your arms. If anything pissed him off, it would have to be the fact that many people only viewed pets as an accessory they could shop for whenever rather then the lifelong companions that they were; he hated it even more when those same people abandon them out on days like these, despite knowing damn well that they wouldn’t survive.

‘Now before you say anything, I found this little guy in a alleyway in a cardboard box that was soaked and rotting, I couldn’t leave him there Hobie, the poor guy was too weak that I could nearly hear him meow.’ You let the kitten down gently onto the floor where it then proceeded to run towards Hobie, looking up at him defiantly. Hobie couldn’t help but chuckle as he knelt to floor, holding his hand out -palm up- which the kitten then proceeded to sniff and upon deciding neither him nor you were threats, the orange tabby then allowed for Hobie to pick him up.

‘I like the fire in this one’s eyes,’ he tells you as he began to stroke the tabby’s fur as it purred, ‘though we do have to give him a wash soon before we do anything else but I’m sure I can find something to make a collar out of.’ You gasped, running up to him and the tabby in his arms, ‘you hear that little buddy,’ the kitten only blearily blinked at you in response, ‘you’re staying.’ You whispered, gingerly scooping them out of Hobie’s arms, lost in the plans you had in store as you wandered off to prepare a bath, leaving Hobie to watch on with an amused look upon his face; brainstorming his own plans with the little tabby that looked at him from over your shoulder in a desperate plea for help.

Yeah, he loves his little anarchist family already.

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 2) // t. nott

RATING: PG -13 / 1.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* A continuation of the interesting situation you unknowingly placed yourself in. Theo takes you, in your Animagus form, back to his dorm room and attempts to take a nap with his new friend. (Comedy?) (Read Part One first)

+ WARNINGS - Language, nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing)

New Perspective - P!ATD (it's stuck in my head)

*I just wanted to say that I am sorry this is so short and may not be the best follow-up to Part One, but I really hope you like it. It was kind of rushed because I had a really busy, frustrating day, but wanted to write!*

---

Every few minutes, Theo would shoot a glance towards his annoyingly persistent group of friends. His glare became sharper and sharper each time, but, still, they refused to stop giggling and teasing.

He could barely focus on his bloody work and they were absolutely not going to stop any time soon. He groaned and got to his feet, shoving all of his schoolwork quickly into his bag, keeping you safely cradled in his arms. Maybe you’d attach to him and sleep at the end of his bed and stuff. He’d have to get some cat food.

Their giggling and whispers came to a stop as soon as he stood. They watched him closely, waiting to see what he’d do next.

“Oh, so now you all shut up?” Theo growled. “I’m trying to get work done. How am I supposed to do anything when you all are—?” He mocked their giggling.

“Sorry, Theo, we just missed you,” Mattheo joked, “we wanted to be close to you.”

“Yeah, right, why are you really here?” Theo asked.

None of them answered. Just all glanced at each other and started giggling again. He rolled his eyes and started towards the library’s entrance.

“Hey, where are you going?” Pansy asked.

“To my dorm and you better not follow!” Theo warned, never looking back. Their laughter only got louder. He groaned in frustration and slammed through the library door, careful not to jostle your sleeping figure too much. You slept pretty heavily for a cat.

He pushed through the occasional crowd of students on their way to classes as he headed towards his dorm. Hopefully, nobody would be in there and he’d finally get some peace and quiet for him and you. He had a million things to get done.

He walked rather quickly until he came upon the Slytherin dorm entrance. He spoke the password and made his way across the threshold, melting at the small coo you made in your sleep.

“Aw, I love you, little thing,” he laughed. “You don’t belong to Hogwarts anymore, you belong to me. What should I name you?”

He followed the staircase up to his assigned dorm and finally tossed all of his stuff onto the desk next to his bed. He gently set you down on his freshly-made bed and assured himself that you were wrapped up cozily in your little wool blanket. A small smile appeared on his face.

Distantly, he could hear his irritating friends downstairs. They laughed and joked noisily with other Slytherin students down in the common room. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he set all of his work out yet again. He was getting this shit done—today, with no more interruptions.

He grabbed his wand and flicked it at the door. The wooden lock against it landed with a heavy clunk. If someone needed to come in, they could state their name and business.

You stretched in your sleep once more, releasing a purring yawn. He smiled at the motion and brushed the tip of his quill’s feather over your face gently.

He turned back to the papers and books scattered across his desk and set to work. Circling answers, scrawling out short answers, and highlighting passages. The warmth from the sun pushed through the window, gently heating his hands, face, and a sliver of your back on his bed. Every few minutes or so, he’d lean over and run a soothing hand over your head or back.

His friends had quieted down downstairs and seemed to have gotten bored of whatever stupid joke they were playing on Theo. He figured they were just trying to get him to think they were talking about him or hiding something from him. Which was really annoying. He’d never done anything like that to them, so what the hell?

As his hand worked the quill across the parchment, his mind wandered a bit. He wondered if you’d ever gone back and picked up your stuff from the library. Maybe you’d forgotten it? It doesn’t really seem like you were the type of person to forget all of your stuff, though. He shrugged. Maybe he’d go down later and see if it was still there.

After about an hour or so of working, Theo pushed out of the desk chair and pulled his body into a tall stretch. He groaned at the release and popped his knuckles. He was sort of tired, come to think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he skipped his fourth period. He’d tell Professor Sprout he wasn’t feeling well, which, after accidentally being transfigured into a toad in McGonagall’s earlier, he didn’t exactly feel one-hundred percent.

Just as he was scooting you gently up next to his pillows and slipping beneath the comforters, a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” Theo asked.

“It’s us, man, just let us in.” Mattheo.

“Absolutely not, I’m busy.”

“Please, we really think it would be in your best benefit to open the door.”

“Do you need something out of here?” Theo called back, settling comfortably beneath the blankets.

“No, but—”

“Is someone injured or dying?”

“No—”

“Then you don’t need to be in here—you’re just going to keep picking on me,” Theo grumbled. He tucked his arm under the covers and curled his hand around you, pulling your back against his chest. You purred in your sleep. You were so warm.

He ignored their persistent pounding at the door and settled in, closing his tired eyes. This was going to be the best nap of his life.

He was teetering on the edge of being awake and not when he felt something move against him. It felt like something had touched his legs. Maybe you’d gotten up and moved farther down the bed. But he was pretty sure you were still curled beneath his arm. He wasn’t sure and he was too tired to care. Though it really felt weird…

“Ugh, why doesn’t he just open the door?” Pansy grunted, slamming her hand against the wood once more. “The teasing was funny, but I didn’t think he’d actually take her to his dorm!”

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us did,” Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why was she sleeping in her Animagus form, anyways?” Enzo asked. The other two shrugged.

From the other side of the door, it had gotten completely quiet, and they all wondered if he had laid down with you. They all hoped he hadn’t. It would have been funny to see you wake up, confused and angry, in his lap, but it might not be so funny if you were in his bed. You might think you’d been kidnapped or something.

Just as the thought hit, they all started pounding on the door more.

Somewhere near the back of your head, you heard muffled pounding and shouting. It sounded like a small army parading about the room. You wondered if the Quidditch team was practicing outside the library’s window or something like that.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. Hopefully, nobody had moved your stuff. You still had a ton of work to do. You groaned and raised your arms to stretch out when you realized the bottoms of your arms caught more material. The armchair was bigger than you realized. And a lot more comfortable…

You began rubbing sleep from your eyes as you started to lean up. As you did, something caught your body and held you pinned against the chair. You opened your eyes in confusion, looking at the material below you. Not a chair….a bed? Had someone taken you back to your room? You glanced down and saw a tanned arm wrapped tightly around you. What the fuck? Maybe you got laid.

You turned over and came within inches of Theodore Nott’s nose.

“This is literally the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in…” Enzo sighed. They all had given up on trying to beat the door down and sat against the wood, waiting for one of the two of you to wake up. They hoped it wasn’t going to be too bad of a situation.

Best case, you guys awkwardly brushed it off and went your separate ways. Worse case….

A shrill scream pierced their ears. They, and half of the common room, flinched at the sudden noise. That high-pitched whistle was soon accompanied by a more dulcet shout. Both drew out for at least 30 seconds. The three students cringed at the realization that you two had woken up.

“Fuck,” Mattheo said. They all dropped their faces into their hands.

Part 3!