#or like- from sweet pea himself

[lunart-06]

Liz-finn by @jincheeto I love him sm :"DDD

[gutsby]

Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

[springtyme]

hii!! i saw ur inbox open and was wondering if i could request this; so, imagine dad!simon (or konig idm!!) having his son / daughter see his face for the first time since they were born and theyre just kinda sitting there like :000?? hes so pretty?? while yn is just screaming in the back?? <33 have a great day n thnaks for reading x

𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡

Thank you for the request, I had such a good time writing this! I love writing dad!Simon so much! ♡ but also, ngl, the image of this big bloke wearing a mask in front of his baby seems borderline comical to me.

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Your daughter finally sees her father's face for the first time.

word count: 2.2k

warning/tag: Mostly just dad!Simon fluff with a little hint of angst. No gendering terms are directly used for the reader, but they are pretty fem coded. It's mentioned that they were pregnant. No use of y/n.

As the soft morning light filters through the curtains of your bedroom, you slowly begin stretching your limbs and blinking away the remnants of sleep. As you slowly settle into wakefulness, you hear the screeching sound of the baby monitor on your nightstand coming to life and you feel how your heart flutters happily in your chest as a familiar sound comes through. The sweet sound of your daughter’s happy coos, accompanied by Simon’s deep, gentle voice, fill the room with sweetness. 

“Morning, sweet pea,” Simon’s voice crackles through the monitor followed by the sound of your baby happily gurgling at her father and then exclaiming a little more whiny sound. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re hungry, but we have to get you changed before we can make breakfast, lovie.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you lie there, basking in the warmth and comfort of your bed. The love and joy that echo through the monitor remind you of just how much love fills your home. It’s moments like these that make your heart swell with an indescribable sense of happiness.

Your mind wanders, and you find yourself reminiscing about the journey that brought you here. 

From the moment you and Simon first met, there was an undeniable connection, a spark that ignited and grew into a love that was both fierce and tender. However, it hadn’t been that easy to convince him that he in fact was deserving of such love. He had been scared that he would mess it up, mess you up, convinced himself that he wasn’t able to make anyone happy and that he was broken beyond repair. But you had been rather insisting, and he had finally let his walls crumble and let you into his heart. 

And as you had expected, all his worries had been unfounded. He is the best, most loving partner you could ever have dreamt of. 

The love you share with him is a love that feels like home.

And then, the arrival of your daughter added a new dimension to your love story. From the first time you had held her tiny hand, you knew that your family was complete. Watching Simon transform into the most loving and doting father has only deepened your admiration and affection for him.

And as you lie here,  reminiscing on your life, you can’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the love that surrounds you. 

With a content sigh, you finally pull yourself out of bed, ready to start the weekend with your little family. 

As you make your way down the stairs you can hear the sound of your daughter’s laughter from the kitchen, filling your heart with warmth and you can’t help but smile and make your way towards the source of the joyful commotion. As you enter the room, the morning sun gently illuminates the kitchen, casting a soft glow over the room, and you are greeted by a heartwarming sight. Simon is standing at the stove, stirring a pot of millet porridge, your daughter’s favourite, while she is sitting in her highchair, which has been moved away from the kitchen table and closer to the counter, so she can see what Simon is doing, clapping her hands in delight.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the comforting scent of the porridge. You can’t help but feel a surge of immense love and gratitude for the man who stands before you, effortlessly balancing the roles of partner and father.

Simon turns towards you. “Good morning, love,” he greets you, his eyes twinkling with warmth, the bottom half of his face covered by a black mask. He had started to wear it around the house again after your daughter had been born.  

“Good morning,” you reply, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and adoration. “I see you two are having quite the breakfast party.”

Simon laughs softly and nods. “We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it seems that someone couldn’t wait,” he says, glancing at your daughter, who just giggles in response.

You walk over to them, planting a soft kiss on Simon’s masked cheek before planting another on your daughter’s, much chubbier, one. “Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed. This is the best way to wake up,” you say, gazing at your little family with a heart full of love.

Together you finish cooking breakfast, porridge for the baby and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon for you and Simon.

You begin to set the table as Simon picks up your daughter, supporting her with one arm as he settles her on his hip, so he can move her chair back to the table, but before he can grab the chair he stops dead in his tracks.

Your little girl has grabbed a fistful of his mask in her tiny hand. She doesn’t seem to be pulling on it, or otherwise trying to take it off him, but she also doesn’t seem to want to let go of it when Simon gently takes her hand to get her to release her grip.  

“Sweetheart, please…” Simon says softly, but he trails off, a wave of emotions flickering over his eyes, but they end up having a sort of determinant look to them as they lock with his daughter’s.

You feel how your heart skips a beat as Simon lets go of her little hand to instead grip the place his mask is fastened.  

With a deep breath, Simon removes the mask, revealing his face to your daughter for the very first time in her young life. You feel goosebumps rise along your arms as Simon’s features come to light. The room falls silent, and time seems to stand still.

Your daughter’s gaze is fixed on Simon, you can see a whirlwind of emotions flickering across her little face. 

It’s a pivotal moment that holds the power to change everything. You can see how Simon, too, feels a mix of emotions coursing through him. 

He has once mentioned to you that he was afraid that his scars would scare her, but you have had a suspicion that something else might be the reason he has kept the mask on in front of her for. 

He does have a few scars from his work, but they are nowhere near severe enough to scare anyone. You do have another theory to why he has kept it on, one he hasn’t directly confirmed, but a conversation from your pregnancy has stuck with you. 

He had voiced his concern that something would happen to him on the battlefield. not because he was that concerned for his own wellbeing, he knew what the risks of his job was, but because he was afraid of something happening to him, leaving you and your little one alone in the world. He had, on the whole, had many worries about becoming a father. 

He had been worried that his past had broken him so severely that he couldn’t be the dad your daughter needed him to be. Like the fear he also had about you and your relationship in the beginning of it, the fear that he couldn’t be the man you deserved. 

He has, in all the time you’ve known him, done everything to disprove that concern, he is the best partner you could ask for and now the most lovable dad to your little girl, but you know that he still has his concerns and that his feelings about them are valid. 

You think the mask has served as a sort of safety blanket for him. Like he thought that it would be easier for you and your daughter to lose him if your little girl couldn’t remember his face, or something like that. You find that thought heart rending.               

You know that his job comes with a risk, you had known it when you got together and you had known it when you married him and you had known it when you got your daughter. Losing him on the battlefield would be your worst nightmare come true. You know that he is smart, strong and capable, but you also know that there are no guarantees in war, which, to you, is just all the more reason for  your daughter to know her father’s face, but you have let Simon choose for himself when he was ready for that.  

But you don’t want to think about any of that right now, so you push those thoughts away, and instead let yourself be completely mesmerised by the sight before you   

Your little girl focuses on his, now revealed, face, taking in every detail. Her eyes widening in surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of fear, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she absorbs every detail of her father’s face. 

“It’s just me, princess,” Simon tells her, his voice filled with a mix of amusement, nerves and an overwhelming love for his little girl. His eyes, once guarded, now shine with warmth and affection. 

The confirmation of his voice is what convinces her. A wide smile spread across her little face, revealing the adorable dimples she has inherited from Simon, on her sweet, chubby cheeks. She lets out a happy squeal, as she realises that it really is her father who’s now smiling down at her, a set of dimples matching hers on his cheeks.    

She giggles happily, which, to you, is the most beautiful sound in the entire world. Her little hands starting to explore Simon’s face, her tiny fingers tracing the lines and contours of it. It’s a gentle and tender gesture that speaks volumes. You watch in awe as the beautiful moment between your daughter and her father unfolds in front of you. It’s a moment you will cherish forever. 

When she finally seems satisfied with her mapping of his face with her small hand, she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face, one that conveys something along the lines of ‘you seeing this too?’ Her eyes lighting up, reflecting the genuine joy that fills her little heart.

“Yeah, baby, that’s your daddy,” you smile at her, and she lets out another happy shriek before looking back at Simon again, happily nuzzling her little face into his neck. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You continue as you step forward, placing a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles over the dusty rose bodystocking that she is wearing, one that Simon picked out when he got her ready and you still laid in bed.   

You look up at Simon, a soft smile on his lips as your eyes lock. 

“He never wants to believe me when I tell him, but he is actually the most handsome man I know,” you say, with a playful glint in your eyes. “He’s probably the most handsome man in the whole world, actually.”           

Simon chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Oh, come on now,” he replies, his voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement.“I think you might be a bit biassed there, love.”

You shake your head, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Nah, I don’t think I am,” you state, wrapping your arms around both Simon and your little girl in his arms. “Just stating facts. I actually got the most handsome husband and the most beautiful daughter in the whole wide world.” you say with a content sigh, hugging your little family tightly.  

It’s a hug that speaks volumes, conveying love, affection and acceptance. In this embrace, you know that you truly have the most beautiful family in the world.  

As you finally let go of them you place a sweet kiss on your daughter’s little nose. She giggles joyfully, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratefulness over what a happy little girl you have. Simon seems to be thinking the same as he smiles down at her.  

But your adorable little troublemaker doesn’t seem to be done with causing havoc yet.   

She reaches out her tiny hand and grabs for the mask again. Simon hesitates for a moment, looking down at the fabric in his hand, the symbol of his past, before letting her have it. The mask, once a symbol of his doubts and fears, now becomes a simple toy for your daughter as she happily shakes it up and down, a cheeky grin on her little face. 

You and Simon lock eyes, and then the two of you burst out in laughter.  

As your laughter fills the room, a sense of pure joy washes over you. You look at Simon, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and you know in this moment, that the love and bond the three of you share is unbreakable, and it fills your heart with an indescribable warmth.

With a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, you take a mental snapshot of this beautiful moment. It’s a memory that will forever be etched in your mind, a testament to the strength of your love and the joy that radiates from your little girl.

As the laughter subsides, you gather your family close again, embracing the love and happiness that surrounds you. In this embrace, you know that you have everything you could ever need.

Your daughter’s laughter and Simon’s unwavering love fill your life with immeasurable happiness, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the beautiful family you have created.

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

[beiasluv]

mini norris | l. norris (4)

a/n: i hateeee pregnancy trope but ughhh 😩 wrap it before you tap it 😘

“Oh, you’re feisty, yes, you are–”

Babysitting Oliver’s baby girl was not on your plan today, but you couldn’t complain. Not that Lando was her favorite – and only – uncle.

She cooed and giggled as Lando squeezed her in a hug, the widest smile you've ever seen spread across his face as he giggled with her. And It quickly became clear that Lando wanted the little pitter-patter of baby feet on the hardwood floor to be something more temporary than you expected.

As he turned to look up at you, his dull blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. He’d like to believe he’s over the clubbing phase, more than he’d like to admit. Well – everything was faster than he expected. But it felt right with you.

“You know yn…” he started. “I've been thinking–”

“Lan.”

You gave him the look, sighing softly before taking Mila away from him as she made a grabbing motion towards you – as if saying she was done with her uncle.

“…shouldn’t we think harder about this?”

“I’ve been thinking hard about it,” he pouted, brushing the hair away from her face.

“Sure you did,” you scoffed back. Mila cooing as you bounced her up and down, patting her small back, hoping some of the gas would come up.

“I know it's impulsive, but it feels right. And...” he paused. “...you haven't even said you hated the idea.”

You let the idea sunk in…biting your bottom lips nervously before Lando reached out to wipe the corner of the toddler’s mouth – pumpkin purée to be exact.

“I’m the one getting pregnant here,” you huffed before giving him a look.

“I know,” he smiled, even his eyes lighted up.

“We can do it together. Every little step along the way,” he smiled sincerely. “And besides…” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow before leaning over to swipe some of the pumpkin purée that had ended up on your cheek. He smiled softly to himself as he ran his thumb along your jawline before leaning in to kiss that spot.

“You'll look so hot, all pregnant.”

“Lando– I love you–” you chuckled in disbelief. “But I don’t think I would feel hot carrying a little person inside me.”

“But you will, just watch,” he stopped you, pressing in closer to you and Mila – who just cooed in disagreement, taking her little hand and pushing her uncle Lala away from your personal space. Cackling in satisfaction as she bounced up and down in your arms.

“See, she thinks you’re wrong,” you smiled, cooing the toddler.

“You have no sense of romance, little miss." Lando grinned as he reached for Mila again, his eyes full of mischief as he tried to steal a laugh out of her. "Come here you,” reaching for her and swinging her around in circles as he tried to tickle her.

She giggled and tried to get away from him, fighting as hard she could against his playful grasp.

“Once you learn how to change the diapers, we could talk,” you smiled, looking at the niece and her uncle – tickling each other into a giggling mess. Lando snapping his head up as his messy, curly brown hair fell out of place.

“Then you get ready tonight baby.”

——

“She’s a healthy looking girl.”

When he’d finally broke down your wall and you told him you were ready, he didn’t need to be told twice before whisking you into the bedroom.

And it wasn’t was expected that you’d showed up pregnant at the paddock, hand-in-hand with the McLaren driver. But sharing the experience it with him was the best part – well, for now, until you’ll get to meet your sweet little pea.

“You're... you're so...”

Lando’s words caught in his throat as he stood behind you, watching you check at yourself in the mirror. The way the body-fitted white shirt hugged your body was stunning. The way it clung to every single curve, emphasizing how beautiful your bump looked, how full your breasts have gotten. And definitely the way how full your stomach looked with the denim skirt underneath it.

He really did that, no?

He reached out to squeeze your sides and wrap his arms around your waist.

“You’re so…hot, mama”

“Barely feel like it,” you smiled. “I’ve got my stomach sticking out to the world,” turning to kiss his cheek behind you.

Lando grinned, squeezing your sides gently.

“That's the thing, you look hot in everything…just hotter when your stomach sticks out,” he revealed passionately, leaning down to kiss your neck.

He knew how it made you feel insecure about yourself, which he thought was silly because it only made you look more beautiful to him.

The change in your body was something he was adjusting to as well. The way the way your waistline had curved in, the way your hips had widened. He placed the palm of his hand across the bump on your stomach, gently rubbing it.

"We can always get new clothes," he told you, smiling warmly. "But, honestly. You’re just so...sexy in anything.”

Before you could whisk out another sarcastic response, you felt a kick in your abdomen. Wasn’t as bad compared to period cramps but something you definitely felt a ‘kick’ to it.

“You feel that?” you winced.

“Yeah,” he smiled, tucking his chin on your neck behind you before lifting a pressure off your growing stomach. “Hurting mama already little miss?”

You smiled at the scene, scoffing before looking back at your husband, “You’re such a girl dad already.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he smirked.

“Not that like I’m going to be the strict parent while you get all lovey dovey with your baby,” you huffed jokingly.

“Someone’s gotta be the strict parent, no?” he smiled. “And I'm going to be plenty tough when she needs it.”

“But for now, I'm just excited to spoil this tiny little girl…And her mama.”

“Doubtful.”

You couldn’t only help but rolling your eyes back, tilting your neck to an angle. Turning away from him before smoothing out your lovely skirt.

And God help him because he was torn between his thirst to pull you back in and let his instincts take over or letting you finish getting ready. Deciding to let you get ready instead of making you feel like he only cared about one thing. For now, at least. That thought was enough to get him to try and behave himself for the time being.

"What about your shoes? Have you picked them out yet?" he asked, taking his eyes off of you for the first time in a while.

Knowing what he wanted. Let’s say…he has always been gentle with your baby girl inside, but he could only try so hard.

“Maybe tonight,” you smiled nonchalantly, fixing your hair in the mirror. “The adidas please?”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice, he would be down on the floor, slipping on your adidas sambas – trying his worst to wipe off that grin on his face. Gosh, you’d lie if his beard wasn’t doing things to you.

“Tonight. Definitely tonight.”

wrote it first for Logan but decided to change it for Lando??? 😬😬

– @jsjcue @namgification

y’all know the drill 😘 today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!!

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Don't Put That On My Plate - LN

Summary: Lando is dating a fellow picky-eater and he sort of loves her all the more for it

I write this inspired by myself, I am the worst for eating. I get anxiety eating in front of anyone else and if someone is in the kitchen while I'm cooking I have the most violent thoughts towards them. So this is for anyone who can relate to that.

Also some of the pickiness is actually food that my friends are picky about. The slightly more quirky eating habits are deffo very me-based, lol. The poll isn't even done but this one has been winning by a landslide so I figured I'd just upload :D

No part 2 requests please

Lando is pretty famously not the most adventurous eater, only trying food in a challenges for marketing when he watches Oscar try them first and even then he's untrusting of trying it with confidence.

Y/n is much pickier in that she doesn't like the fairly basic "healthy" stuff. She'll eat a salad, but don't dare put tomatoes near it. He actually found her gagging hard over the smell of ketchup. Carrot, sweetcorn and peas aren't ever going to be spotted on her plate either. But she loves spinach and roast parsnips make her smile every time without fail.

Does he understand her logic? No.

But he'll defend her to no end and stop someone from putting something he knows she doesn't like on her plate.

Lando actually can't stop himself from smirk a little at the sight of her inspecting the burger and removing the tomato from it then using a knife to scrape off any residue of it from the rest of it.

He knows she would've asked for a plain burger with just cheese. But they must've just given her a burger with everything on it probably just ignoring her. They're busy and they feed a lot of people but he'll make sure it's fixed for her.

"It's ok, baby. Give it here. I'll get you something you can eat." Lando smiles picking up her plate, moving around and kissing her quickly before he shifts to get her something she'll eat.

"Thank you." Y/n mumbles as he shoots a smile back at her.

After retrieving a burger that is of her liking he returns placing it down in front of her with some extra fries as an apology for the mix up.

"You're too sweet." Y/n smiles though she double checks the burger to make sure there's nothing in there that she doesn't want.

"You wouldn't have eaten it anyway." Lando smiles lightly while she hums a little then biting into the burger. "Better?"

"Yeah, better." Y/n nods with a grin.

-

Y/n yawns as she sits tucked up next to Lando on the private jet, she is exhausted Lando is talking to others.

She's sort of dozing in and out before she feels something brush her lips and she actually shoots back so fast that Lando's quick reflexes is all that saves her from smashing her head on the side of inner side of the plane. His hand behind her coming up to block the back of her head.

"What the hell was that?" Y/n questions making Lando finally breathe from his laughter and she drops her shocked expression. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a crisp." Lando laughs then holding it up to her mouth again but she just moves her head back again. "You like crisps."

"Well what flavour is it?" Y/n asks with furrowed browns while Lando grins at her. "What flavour?"

"It's just ready salted you muppet." Lando states then laughing when she opens her mouth and he places the crisp on her tongue.

"Did you really have to wake me up for that?" Y/n questions then making her smile lightly before she grins at him.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to make you jump." Lando grins then hugging her tightly, kissing her forehead. "Want anything else to eat? You haven't really eaten much in the past 24 hours."

A key difference between Lando and y/n, y/n sort of avoids eating sometimes if she feels like she's not likely to find something she wants to eat. Lando on the other hand will unapologetically eat whatever he can get his hands so long as it's not fish or something he's not tried before.

"Yeah, I can eat." Y/n nods while Lando smiles pulling the packet of crisps to sit on her lap, he's intending to grab her some more food from the selection they've got on the jet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, gorgeous." Lando smiles then laughing as he looks at her. "Do you want anything else? We've got ramen?"

"Chicken?"

"Yes." Lando smiles before kissing y/n's forehead gently as she shifts to pick up her crisps and begin eat.

"Are you having some?"

"I can."

Another quirk. Y/n doesn't like eating around Lando if she's the only one eating.

"Yeah, I can eat." Lando nods with a smile.

"I don't want egg though." Y/n mumbles earning a small laugh.

"No egg." Lando chuckles with a nod.

Y/n does like eggs but she's very picky about being in the right mood for it. Apparently now is not one of those moments that she is.

-

Once thing Lando has always been careful of when it comes to restaurants is checking the menu to make sure there's a few options that he'd like depending on different moods he might be feeling. Since he started dating her, he has started to focus more on there being something she'd like to eat on the menu than even considering what he wants to eat when it comes to the options.

"I don't know if you want to go there baby, the menu doesn't look very...you." Lando states as y/n talks about a restaurant one of the other driver's girlfriend's had mentioned.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Lando nods sadly making her stand up from the floor and move to sit in his lap, frowning as she looks at his phone then grunts realising he's completely right with that. "Sorry, baby. Picky eaters club isn't allowed in."

"Rude." Y/n pouts earning a small smile from Lando. "A life long burden."

"Would you change?" Lando smirks earning a hum.

"No."

"I didn't think so. We can find somewhere else with nicer food that isn't yuck." Lando grins while wrapping his arms around y/n while she holds his phone and begins to search for somewhere else to eat. "We can order room service today and go out tomorrow?"

"Room service is good. They always have the simple stuff. Can't go wrong." Y/n nods while Lando smiles sadly at y/n.

"Y/n." Lando sighs softly knowing that she is trying to make herself feel better because sometimes she does hate her eating habits and how they hold her back. "Do you know what you need?"

"What?"

"Chocolate. Brownies to be specific."

Y/n grins immediately since if there's one weakness that immediately brings back a good mood, it's brownies. She loves chocolates, as many people do, but it raises her mood enough that Lando can rely on it to be the perfect pick me up.

So they order 4 brownies and y/n manages 2 and half before declaring she can't manage anymore.

"That was worth it."

"Good." Lando laughs while lying down next to her and hugging her tightly.

"Oh god, don't squeeze me. I'll be sick." Y/n groans before sighing. "You know I bet those posh poncy restaurants have nothing like that good of brownies, just like little weird overpriced blobs of mousse on a plate. Probably taste like air."

Lando laughs because she's really right but he still knows she'd love to go to an overpriced restaurant and eat enough things that people would judge her and Lando would probably make a game out of wondering what the final bill would be.

"Thank you." Y/n whispers making Lando smiles and kiss her softly, not being able to hide his grin at the taste of chocolate still on her lips.

She might wish she would change sometimes, but Lando definitely doesn't with for it. He loves her exactly how she is, in the same way she loves him exactly how he is.

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of charmed serial killer Simon. (Part 1 is here.)

This part is heavily inspired by this particular Badjhur audio “Surviving the Slasher” from, like, a long time ago. Where he’s a killer. Easier to find than expected, thank you masterlist. It permanently has a room in my pea brain, no rent, utilities included.

You’re out with your little friends again. Simon scoffs to even call them that. You give them so much more than they even try to give you - support, encouragement, time, energy.

One of them has a shitty deadbeat boyfriend that’s throwing a flat party, so they’ve dragged you along per usual. You’re still swearing off alcohol after the last time you went out - when you got a ride home with him. So you’re totally sober when the rest of the idiots suggest “investigating” the abandoned hospital on the other end of the block.

You go with them as the only fully-sober one, but spend the whole, stumbling trip trying to convince them to go somewhere, anywhere, else.

Apparently the boyfriend fancies himself something of an urban explorer because he knows just how to get in, bragging that he’s going to start some stupid internet show looking for ghosts there. You end up getting knocked into a half dozen times just trying to keep your woozy friends from getting tetanus.

It doesn’t take long at all for someone to suggest hide and seek. You try adamantly to put your cute little foot down - reminding them that it’s dirty and structurally unstable and there could be people just trying to camp out in peace in here. You’re adamantly ignored and your friends scatter.

And Simon starts to hunt.

Oh, he wishes he could have seen your face when the screams first started. If you recognized the shriek of Addy, the one who yanked you away from a proper apology when you first bumped into him at the bar. Wonders if you felt anything when Simon stabbed her boyfriend in the stomach and sent him stumbling away to incite more terror.

Of course you did. His pretty little chatterbox, coming to the rescue as soon as you heard their cries.

You get yourself lost trying to find someone, anyone. He picks off your group one. By. One. He finds you trying to triage a nasty slice to Heather’s thigh. She was talking shit about you just two days ago to Addy.

And oh, how brave you are, trying to stick with her to the very end. All it takes is one well-placed throw and you’re scrambling back as Heather burbles blood.

He takes a single, loud step towards you - and you bolt. Such a smart thing, you don’t even glance back to see if he’s following. He’s not; there’s still trash to take care of.

You find one more friend - one he doesn’t mind so much, mostly because you just met tonight. She’s crying, making a fuss and you’re trying to soothe her while still focused on escape, letting her cling to your arm.

Simon starts herding you both towards an easy exit. A few well placed foot falls here, a jaunty whistle there. He loves watching your big eyes dart toward the noises, how you get low like a bunny hiding in brush. Always put yourself between your new friend and wherever you think he could come from.

Your friends’ blood is beginning to dry when he decides it’s time to wrap things up.

He appears in a doorway, and you shove at your fellow survivor, make her squeeze through the rusty door first. You’re just starting to follow when he snags you around the middle. You yelp, feet kicking at air, tugging at his soaked hoodie sleeve.

He shoves your back against a wall and presses close, the flat of his knife against your pretty cheek.

“What did we learn tonight, hm?” he mocks.

You’re flinching away, but know better than to struggle or scream. So clever.

“W-why are you doing this?” you ask.

How sweet, that you can’t understand the motivations of monsters like him. He indulges you.

“To teach you a lesson,” he answers. “Get better friends.”

You look furious, even as tears well in your eyes. He coos over them, tugs the bottom of his mask up enough to lick them as they fall down your cheek.

“S-Stop, that’s - that’s so gross,” you hiccup, pancaking yourself to the wall.

He snorts in amusement and tugs his mask down again.

“Now, I know you’re a good girl with good manners, so let’s see them.”

You blink at him, eyes soooo big. Don’t understand what he means.

He tuts. “Say: thank you, ghost, for teaching me a valuable lesson.”

You press your lips together in a tight, pouty line. He wants to bite them. Instead, taps the point of the knife against your jaw. A silent threat that’s he’s still debating if he means.

But you manage to get the sentence out, stuttering, voice breaking halfway through. Mm, he’s missed hearing your gratitude. It’s almost sweeter this way than all the times you said it in his car.

“You’re very welcome, sunshine. Now, off you go, before I decide to teach you something else.”

You don’t hesitate when he steps back. Peel yourself off the wall and wriggle out to freedom.

Simon chuckles. What a fun little playdate, he’s so glad he let you go that first time. He’ll have to arrange another one soon.

[hanasnx]

re-hash

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: explicit sexual content | f!reader | established relationship | daddy kink | mild dacryphilia | size difference

JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."

He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.

"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.

You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."

He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"

"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.

"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.

"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.

Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"

"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.

"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.

His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.

"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.

He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"

You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"

He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."

"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."

[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲? 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy.

“Goodnight, my little sweat pea,” Heeseung whispers while you both exit your two-year-old daughter's bedroom after reading her a nighttime story. “Come on, babe, let’s get ready for bed.” You nod as he puts his arm around the small of your back, guiding you to the bathroom.

Making your way over to the bathroom counter, you grab your toothbrush and wet it under the running sink.

Meanwhile, heeseung stands a bit further away from you, looking at your reflection in awe, looking at you like it was his first time seeing you, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smile or shameless stare.

You’re unaware of his gaze until he sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing soft kisses all over your beautiful neck. “Hee, what are you doing that tickles?” you say while giggling.

“You’re so cute,” he mumbles on your neck, trailing his hands down to your stomach, rubbing your tummy as if you were pregnant. “Baby,” he murmurs softly, placing another kiss on your neck before asking you something he’s been meaning to for a while now. “Let’s make another.” he moves to your ear, nibbling on it softly. 

“Hee, I don’t know,” you say, a little apprehensive. You were both already taking care of a small child, and you didn’t know how you’d be able to take care of another, especially a newborn.

“Shh Shh Shh.” he trails his hands up and down your sides, squeezing softly as he stands tall behind you and looks at your face in the mirror. “Hear me out on this. First off, little sweet pea can have a playmate. Second, you’ll have more company in the house while I’m out, and I get to take care of you for nine whole months. And I know you love it when I treat you like a queen,” he smiles. At you before pecking your cheek. “Plus, we’re already doing such a great job with our first little one.” 

He was right you know he’s right and even you were thinking about it lately you definitely wanted to have another baby with him and grow your tiny little family together. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right.” You place your hands over his that are now resting on your belly.

“You sure baby? I don’t want you to feel like I’m persuading you. It’s just I think there’s more upsides than downsides, you know?” He explains.

“I’m sure, hee I’ve been thinking about it too.” you turned your head to the side, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“That makes me so happy,” he grins widely, and you can’t help but smile along with him. “My pretty girl,” he steals another kiss from your hands, going to your waist as he takes a step forward, pressing himself against you as a little preview of what you’re going to get later on. “I can’t wait to see you pregnant again,” he whispers softly and slowly withdraws himself from your frame. 

You can’t help but blush at his words as you both finish getting ready for bed.

After you both cleaned up, you went to your bedroom, and it didn’t take either of you long to get in the mood. Heeseung’s lips were already on yours in a messy, rushed kiss as he desperately gripped your sides and made out with you like he hadn’t in months. “I can’t wait to feel you,” he says it so casually while taking off his shirt, and you wonder how he could say something like that so easily cause you were short-circuiting from his words, not to mention the way he looked stripping off his shirt and pants he was driving you crazy, and you barely even touched him. “Baby number 2 on the way,” he laughs and lifts up the hem of your shirt. Your arms go up instantly, helping him take off your clothing, and he bites his lip when he sees that you are braless. He knew you went to sleep every night without one, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t always just as surprised when he saw you without it. “I have such a beautiful wife,” he leans in, bringing you closer to his chest, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, and when he pulls away, he looks completely drunk off the sight of you.

You whine impatiently, already a throbbing mess down there, as you cup his hardened length that was straining against his boxer briefs. 

The soft moan he lets out is enough to have you clenching around nothing, and you love the sounds he makes for you so much.

“Babe, I really don’t want to rush this, but I feel like my head is gonna explode if I don’t feel you soon,” he says almost painfully as he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, trying to take deep, calculated breaths to calm himself down. 

You were not much better. It seemed like, after the mention of trying for another baby, you two just couldn’t control yourselves. “Me too, hee,” you whimper breathlessly.

“Glad I’m not the only one.” You both break into a fit of giggles, but it’s short-lived cause his hands soon find the waistband of your underwear and easily slip them down your legs while you do the same with his boxers.

You both step out of the last article of clothing, and he lifts you up gently, laying you down on the bed as he climbs over you. It doesn’t take you even a second to wrap your legs and arms around him, trapping him against your body. “Kiss me.” You don’t have to tell him twice before he’s attaching his lips to yours. Your tongues swirl together as you both hum in contentment, feeling somewhat level-headed now that you can actually feel feel each other.

Rotating his hips, he presses himself into you a bit more to run his length along your wetness, soaking his shaft in your beautiful essence.

“Hee,” you break away from the kiss in need of air because the feeling of him on top and rubbing against you was too much for you to handle.

“I love when you call my name like that.” he moves his head down to your chest, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your perky mounds.

This man really wasn’t helping your situation. It’s like he didn’t know the effect he had on you. He was literally driving you insane. 

He puts his hand between your legs, propping himself up so he can stimulate you more before entering you, but that wasn’t necessary, especially this time around.

“Hee, please, just” he blushed at your bluntness, and without any hesitation, he held the base of his cock, aligning himself at your hole and easing inside you slowly. 

“Oh-“ his words get stuck in his throat the moment his tip touches your opening, and he can’t stop himself from pushing in deeper and deeper. The slide is like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he can’t quite comprehend how you feel better each time he has you. “Mmm babe,” his brows creased together, mouth parted in a silent moan. The only thing coming out was labored breaths as he once again had to calm himself cause he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest from the sheer intensity of love and pleasure he felt.

You moan his name, your face mirroring his as you both stare into each other's eyes at a complete loss of words from the pleasure between your bodies and when he starts slowly thrusting, you both lose it.

He buries his face in the pillow next to your head, and you opt to kiss and nibble on his shoulder, attempting to quiet your sounds.

With every stroke, he whimpers in your ear, and with every whimper of his, you clench around him. His sounds of ecstasy always made you go so crazy. Everything about him was literally perfect. 

“Can’t wait to get you pregnant again,” he moans, and you feel him shudder above you. “Fill you up with my cum breed this pussy till you’re full of our baby.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head from his words. It was the perfect amount of sweetness mixed with burning desire. 

“You want that too, yeah? Gonna cream your pussy so good round after round stuff you so full of my cum you’ll have no choice but to get pregnant.” 

He balls up the sheets in his fist, grinding against your clit with every single move, and you swear you’re in heaven. “Yes hee, please fill me up,” you beg for him. “Wanna feel you cum deep inside of me. Make me pregnant.” You dig your nails into his back, trying your best to hold in your sounds, but it’s so hard that a few start moans fall from your lips.

“Fuck baby, shh,” he moans, shifting his head to press a few little pecks on the side of your lips, barely able to control his sounds from your words. “Can’t wake our little sweet pea.” propping himself up, he cups your right breast in his hand, massaging your erect nipple with his thumb, and when another moan dares to escape you, you hold it in and instead capture his lips in a proper kiss cause if you didn’t you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.

The feeling of his soft lips working against your own and the slow yet rough strokes of his cock caressing your walls had you coming undone in seconds. He didn’t need a warning. He could already tell you were close, and the messy kisses, muffled whimpers, and uncontrollably spasming around his cock was the sign for him to let go and fill you to the brim with his seed so he could make his precious little wife pregnant. 

He moans into the kiss pumping you full of his cum, endless ropes of pearly white coating your insides and hitting your cervix.

Pulling away from the kiss, he whines, still throbbing inside you with each drop of cum he deposits. “I love you so much.” he wraps his arms around you as you tremble in his hold, still trying to process the intense orgasm that seemed to go on forever. 

“Love you too so much, seungie.” his eyes reflect yours, and they’re filled with nothing but love as he kisses you and once again leaves you breathless. You swear he’ll be the death of you.

He pulls out slowly, laying on his side of the bed while pulling you up to his chest and stroking your tummy. “I’m so excited,” he smiles vibrantly even after that intense love-making session.

“Seung, we don’t even kno-“ he holds his finger up to your mouth, shushing you.

“We are,” he smiles. “I can feel it, you’ll see,” he says confidently.

He kisses your forehead, and silence ensues for all of a minute. “What if we’re having twins?” You could literally feel how fast his heart was beating in his chest at the thought of having twins.

“Seung, please don’t get your hopes up.” You stroke his chest softly, but he’s definitely not listening to you.

“Think about it! Matching outfits, cute little family photos, they’ll be each other's best friends.” he sounds so excited that you can’t help but feel excited, too, and that idea sounded great.

And not only did it sound great, it was great cause here you both are a little over a year down the road, heeseung’s right and left arms holding his two baby twins while little sweet pea dangled off his leg. “Babe! A little help!” he shouts from the living room, and you come running out of the kitchen to help him carry the two boys while he picks up his daughter. “Thank you.” he smiles brightly and huffs out an exhausted breath after taking care of them all morning while you made breakfast.

“You’re welcome, love.” You smile and kiss his cheek, and the sight of you holding the two boys makes him melt. 

“Babe, what if we have another?” 

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[toxicanonymity]

Pre-tlou Joel being part of a raiding group, coming across reader, and Joel claiming her for himself. Possessive non con 🥵

Raider (Original)

800 words, dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

RAIDER MASTER LIST | joel master

WARNINGS - NSFW I8+ Noncon (via implicit threat) unsafe PIV, pet names and praise, oral m, dark, posessive. Joel can pick reader up. Obviously do not condone these things irl.

"Drop her," he booms at the men who are dragging you kicking and screaming as they bicker about who goes first. "Now."

"Relax Miller, there's plenty to go around," one of the guys says and beckons him to join. "Ain't that right, sweetie?" The man adds, lifting your chin with the butt of his rifle.

Miller raises his gun. "I said drop her." They don't. Miller fires a warning shot and they finally do. "Tired of you rookies," Miller says. "Show some respect."

"Yes sir." The men compose themselves and disperse.

Relief washes over you. He's saving you. You're going to get out of this unscathed. You stand up and begin to hobble away, sore from being smacked around.

Miller trains his gun on you. "Don't you fuckin' dare."

You raise your hands in surrender.

"Good girl, now c'mere."

You hesitantly approach him and he throws you over his shoulder. He carries you back inside, into a bedroom, and throws you down on an old mattress. Another man approaches and stands in the doorway. He tells Miller "Oooh, nice find." The man starts unbuckling his own belt.

"Did I say I was sharin'? Go do your goddamn job." He aims his gun at the man. The man gulps, buckles his belt, and scurries away. Joel closes the door behind him and locks it.

-

"Alright now, sweet pea." Miller unbuckles his belt. The blood drains from your face.

"Be a good girl and this'll be over quick, okay?"

You nod. At least there's only one of him.

He palms himself over his tactical pants then takes out his raging erection. It's imposing. You're afraid.

His boots thud as he approaches the mattress. He looms over you. "Now, you're gonna suck this cock and you're gonna like it, understand?" He strokes himself and his brow furrows as he looks at you.

You nod.

"Cause you don't want me passin' you to those guys, trust me."

You nod as tears prickle your eyes. You get up on your knees and take him into your mouth - not all of him, it's impossible, but you try. He puts his hands on the back of your head and fucks your face.

This can’t be over soon enough, but you also can’t deny a feeling growing between your legs. Having his cock in your mouth makes you tingle. It’s so hard, and his precum tastes nice and salty.

“Look at me,” he demands. You don’t want to look him in the eye, so you focus on his messy brown hair. It’s nice.

“Doin' great, sweet pea. Now do me a favor and pull down your pants.”

You take him out of your mouth and wipe the slobber off your lips. He half-smiles with a twinkle in his eye and strokes himself as you pull down your pants.

“Where do you want it, sweet pea?” He squats down and fingers you. Your cheeks burn when he smiles at your wetness. “This one?” he asks and enters you with two fingers.

You nod. It’s preferable to the alternative.

“Alright, you want it like this or you wanna turn around?”

You still don’t want to look him in the eye, so you turn around on all fours. He yanks your pants off to make room for himself between your legs.

“Good girl,” he says. He kneels behind you, then you feel the smooth head of his cock at your entrance. He plunges into you about half way with a grunt, pulls back a little, then plunges forward again, bottoming out with a throaty sigh. Your eyes well up in tears, but your body welcomes the intrusion.

“Damn, you’re tight,” he says as he fucks you, hands on your hips, pulling you back with each thrust. “Good thing I kept ya all for myself. They would’ve ruined this pretty little hole.” The tip of his cock pushes a special button inside you with each thrust, and you begin to unravel.

He’s quiet for a minute, save for his grunts. His grunts turn into moans, then you feel him twitch inside you.

He pulses violently, his large hands jerking you back into him as he pumps you full of hot cum. His pulsations send you and you groan as your own climax is pulled from your depths, contracting on his cock.

“Well damn,” he says when you’re both finished. “It’s a good day for both of us.”

He pulls out and you collapse onto the mattress. He comes around and looks you in the face and you look up at him with watery eyes. He cups your cheek affectionately and reassures you he’ll guard the room for you until everyone’s loading up to leave.

-

6 month note: Thank you so much for reading! I know this is old by now, but I still really appreciate your reblogs and comments. 🥹🖤 when I start to recognize raider superfans I try to follow.

You can follow @toxicfics and subscribe to notifications.

[corroded-hellfire]

The Bunny and the Hair - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: All you want is a cute photo of your daughter in her bunny costume and a photo of the whole Munson family together. But nothing is simple when the children of Eddie Munson are involved

Note: Happy Easter! Thank you to my darlings @munson-blurbs and @offensiunculaee for helping me brainstorm ideas when the only thing in my head was Eliza dressed as a bunny 💕

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Aww, come on sweet pea. Give me a smile.”

Your five-month-old daughter does the very opposite of that. It seems that Eliza Munson has somehow perfected the art of giving a piercing glare before mastering sitting up on her own without being a little wobbly. 

The fuzzy white bunny suit she’s in, hood with ears and all, paints the most adorable picture you’ve ever seen. It would be even cuter if she would flash a brief look of glee for a single photo. This Easter is warmer than it’s been in the last few years and it’s easy to understand that she’s getting hot, which is making her cranky. But you just want one good picture. 

“Just one little smile for Mommy? Please?” You raise the small silver camera to your eye before remembering that this new fancy one has a digital screen where you can see what the picture will look like without squinting through a little hole. 

Deciding to start snapping shots and see what happens, your forefinger presses the small shiny button that makes a soft click after click. A giggle bubbles out of you as you notice your baby getting grumpier and grumpier with each shot. A flipbook would be a perfect place to put these photos and flip through them to see Eliza Hulk-out in real time. 

She is getting officially fed up now. 

“Boys?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder to where your husband and sons stand, watching your attempt at an infant photo shoot. “Can you make her smile so I can get one good shot? Then I’ll get her out of that.”

If anything can make Eliza laugh, it’s her brothers. Particularly Luke, he likes to remind people. 

“Sure,” Ryan says, looking around for any prop to assist him. His brown eyes snag on the eggs on the coffee table, the ones you and the boys had been in the middle of preparing to be dyed before Eddie came out with Eliza in all her fluffy glory. “Hey! Liza! Watch this!” He catches the baby’s eye and picks up one of the boiled eggs and jumps up, pretending to crack it over Eddie’s head. It brings a small smile out of your daughter. 

“Hey, hey!” Luke says, waving his arms to attract his little sister’s attention. “Eliza, look!” The younger Munson boy grabs an egg and props one socked foot on the edge of the coffee table to leverage himself up high enough to copy Ryan’s actions.

“Oh, Luke, that one wasn’t–”

Your warning comes too late. The ten-year-old had picked up one of the eggs that had yet to be boiled in preparation for decorating. This comes to light when Luke crushes the egg over his father’s head and runny yolk and gooey egg whites plop down onto Eddie’s hair and drip down his frizzy curls. 

The air feels as if it’s been sucked out of the room. All eyes are on Eddie as his shoulders bunch up towards his ears and his jaw drops open, a small dollop of yellow yolk falling onto his salt-and-pepper scruff. It’s hard to tell how long the room is frozen, silent until—

Furious giggles come from behind you and it breaks the tension that kept the four of you rooted to your spots. You whip your head around to see Eliza laughing so hard that she loses her balance and flops down onto her side, unable to remain sitting up straight on her own. Quickly, you’re able to set her up right again and grab the camera getting a few shots of her, giddy as can be in her bunny suit. 

Relieved that’s taken care of, you now turn back to look back at your husband, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Neither has Luke. 

It’s obvious to you by the look on Eddie’s face that he can tell that it was an accident, but your son is wide-eyed in fear, clearly not getting the same sense. 

“E-Eliza, say bye-bye to Luke cause Dad is gonna kill me,” Luke says softly, never taking his bright blue eyes from his father’s egg-covered form. 

Eddie takes a step towards Luke slowly, clearly wanting to keep Luke in suspense until the last second, before he wipes a large glob of the sticky egg goo from his own hair and rubs it into the little boy’s messy curls. A maniacal laugh erupts from deep within Eddie as he tugs Luke against his chest, not letting his son get away as he squirms and squeals, trying to escape the shared messiness. Despite his protests, when Luke pulls back and looks up at his dad, he’s laughing. 

Watching the two of them in amusement, you put your hands on your hips and shake your head. Never a dull moment with the Munson men. The two of them continue to rub egg on one another as you turn towards the only clean boy in the house.

“Ryan, can you go get Eliza out of her costume? Last thing we need is her overheating.”

“Yeah, you get cranky enough already,” Ryan tells his baby sister as he scoops her up. Eliza gives a little harumph, but you think that’s more from the way the twelve-year-old holds onto her tightly than offense at his words. 

You set the camera down on the coffee table, making sure it isn’t near any of the eggs.

“Damn,” you say. “Forgot to get a family picture.”

“We’ll take one when Ry and Eliza come back out,” Eddie says, dodging Luke’s sticky fingers. 

“That’s gonna look great with you two looking like you fell in a vat of slime,” you say with a laugh. 

Your husband and his mini me only continue to get messier until you hear Ryan’s footsteps coming back down the hall toward the living room. The moment your eyes land on your daughter’s new ensemble, you have to do a double take. Eliza is beaming in her brother’s arms, wearing her bright pink bathing suit covered in large, white polka dots. 

Left speechless, your eyes widen and you’re only able to gesture with your hands towards the swimsuit.

Ryan shrugs as he hefts his sister up on his hip. “She grabbed it when I opened her drawer. And you said you didn't want her overheating.”

Your gaze slides from Eliza, over to Luke and Eddie, then back to Ryan.

“You and I are going to be the ones who stick out in the Easter picture,” you tell your oldest. “We look normal.”

“You mean we don’t look normal?” Luke asks, jumping on his dad’s back and scrunching up the man’s eggy curls. 

Sighing and shaking your head in amusement, you snatch up the camera and fiddle with it until you set the timer for three minutes. The entertainment unit is the perfect height to rest the camera so it can get a good shot of the whole family. You set it on the shelf right above the television and nod your family over toward where the lens is facing.

Eddie, still sporting Luke as a backpack, walks over and stands on your right. Ryan, carrying a still-beaming Eliza tucks into your left side. It’s impossible not to look over the gang around you, letting out a laugh as you take in the chaotic bunch.

“Smile!” Luke instructs everyone.

Eddie slips his hand around your waist and pulls your side flush up against his, squishing some of the egg whites against you, causing you to let out a squeal of laughter just as the flash of the camera goes off. Your husband grins and presses a big wet kiss on your cheek

“Now that picture’s gonna be a keeper,” he says. 

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Bucking Bronco✨

@bat-boness keeps fucking cooking with their Cowboy Lucifer art and I shall do the same!!! @nayomi247 and @liveontelevision this is your fault too lol, we have now formed a small but mighty Cowboy Lucifer cult fan club

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer finds himself in a punishing situation…

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving), p in v

“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you would come in from the farm on time, Luci,” you scolded as you finished tying the last knot on his wrists. "I don't think I ask for much."

This was the third night in a row your hardworking husband has missed dinner with you. You let it slide the first night. The second night you gave him a gentle reminder to not overwork himself. But tonight was the last straw. A third night of eating alone with a cold plate of food sitting across the table from you. You loved him dearly, but you hated that his priorities didn’t seem to be in order. You were going to make sure he learned his lesson one way or another. He tried to butter you up as he usually did when he came in from work late, knowing full well what he'd done. You feigned a smile and told him not to give it another thought. You told him to get comfortable and that you would join him upstairs soon. But when you walked into your room with your rope in hand, he gulped. He knew damn well that he was in trouble. You sat him down on the ottoman and wrapped your ropes around his hands and wrists, pinning his arms behind his back, effectively rendering him helpless against your ‘punishment’.

“Darlin’, I-I’m sorry, time just gets away from me sometimes! I-I would never do anything to upset you,” Lucifer stuttered. “P-Please, have mercy…”

You checked the tightness of your ropes before standing in front of your husband, towering over him in his subdued state. “Oh, I’m not upset with you! But since you’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought it’d be mighty kind of me if I helped you relax.” You brought your hand to his chin and had him meet your intense gaze. “Do you want me to help you relax, sweetheart?” you asked, knowing all too well that there was only one answer he could give you.

“Y-yes,” Lucifer responded meekly.

"That's my good boy," you praised, a small whimper escaping Lucifer's throat. You slowly dragged your hand down his open-shirt chest, stopping right above his already very apparent erection. He did his best to buck his hips up in an attempt to create any sort of friction. But all this did was cause you to pull you hand away from him immediately. He whined pathetically. "Behave now," you reprimanded. Lucifer looked up at you with glassy eyes and nodded obediently. You smiled and brought your hand back down to its previous spot, hovering just about his hard-on. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as you finally placed your palm over his cock that has been painfully straining against his jeans. It took every ounce of willpower in him to remain still while you toyed with him.

"P-Please," Lucifer mewled, "I-I can't...hng..."

You pulled down the zipper to his pants lethargically, watching Lucifer's chest rise and fall more and more rapidly until you finally released his already leaking cock from its confines. "I love how needy you are for me, sweet pea." You gripped his length in your hand and started stroking him meticulously. Lucifer's whines filled the room, you've never heard sweeter sounds than his desperate cries. His precum leaked onto your hand, your jerking motions becoming smoother. You circled your thumb over the head of his cock, applying the lightest of pressure to it. Lucifer cried out as he bucked his hips once more from your teasing. You let go of him again, tears now welling up in his eyes from the loss of your touch.

"I'm sorry!" Lucifer nearly shouted. "D-Don't stop, please...I'll behave, I-I promise!"

"That's strike two, Luci," you warned. "You wouldn't want me to leave you like this, would you now?"

"N-No! Please...", a single tear rolled down his face. You smiled gently and wiped it from his cheek.

"Shh, it's alright," you cooed, "patience, my love. I'll take care of you."

He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He knew deep down you wouldn't leave him in such a desperate and vulnerable state. You knelt down on the ground, gripping his shaft once more. You stuck out your tongue and licked up the length of his cock, tasting all the precum that had spilled out of him. Lucifer's voice caught in his throat; he was beyond forming any coherent sentences at this point. He struggled against his binds, losing grip of his control fast. Your tongue circled his swollen tip, eliciting the smallest yelps from your lover, your hot breath driving him insane. You enveloped him suddenly, bobbing your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was frozen, he dared not move again in fear of the repercussions. Instead, he was loud, moaning and whining from everything you were giving him in this moment. You let him go with a satisfying pop, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Tell me what you want, sugar," you teased him as your hand replaced your warm mouth. "Use your words."

Lucifer's hat had fallen in front of his face, you could no longer see his eyes. You lifted it up only to see them glowing a bright crimson red, his hunger for you now abundantly evident. "N-Need you," he choked out, "need to feel you, n-now. Please...ride me..."

You smirked at him and nodded. You stood up once more, removing your belt in one swift motion and tossing your shorts off so the side, your soaking pussy now in full view. Lucifer gulped audibly. You straddled yourself against Lucifer's hips, teasing his cock with your dripping folds. You decided to wear his hat on your head instead so that you could clearly see the disheveled mess of a man beneath you. He blushed hard at the sight. You leaned down and planted the tiniest peck to his forehead.

"Now, are you going to be late again?" you questioned playfully.

"N-No," Lucifer promised. "I'll come in from the farm on time, I-I swear! You'll never w-wait for me again!"

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." You lined yourself up and slowly lowered yourself onto him, taking him an inch at a time. He was thicker than most, so he knew you needed just a little bit longer to adjust to his abnormal size. Not that you minded in the slightest, he was able to hit all of the right spots without even moving. Once you bottomed out on his cock, you both let out a wanton moan. After a few seconds of letting yourself stretch around him, you began to shift your hips. Your sudden movements forced Lucifer to lean against the crook of your neck for support. He felt as though you were trying to milk him dry. Which is exactly what you were doing.

"F-Fuck, Lucifer," you stuttered, "always making me f-feel so good, baby. Look s-so pretty under me..." Lucifer could barely hear your praises over his own sounds. This was pure bliss, but agonizingly torturous at the same time. His bound hands were eager to touch you, to hold you, to feel you.

"My love, please, I-I'm begging, let me go..." he cried into your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry, I-I...please..." You stopped your movement completely and started gently petting the back of his head. How could you deny him any longer?

You reached down and grabbed the sheathed blade that adorned his hip. "Stay perfectly still," you commanded, reaching around and carefully slicing the ties around his arms and wrists, letting the rope fall to the floor. You tossed the knife far away from you while Lucifer's hand immediately gripped your hips.

"T-Thank you, darlin'," he whispered against you, "let me make it up to you now. S-Show you how sorry I really am." Without warning, Lucifer lifted you up only for him to slam you right back down on his throbbing cock. The cry you let out was lustful and wanting. His hips bucked up into you at a relentless pace, your cunt clenching around him desperately while you both chased your highs. You dug your nails into his shoulders for support as he pounded into you over and over. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach growing larger, threatening to snap any given second as your lover pushed you to your breaking point with each thrust.

"L-Luci," you whimpered helplessly, "I'm close, s-so close, mmph, fffffuuu-uuuccck..." Your pleas only seemed to drive him even madder than he already was as one of his hands left your hips, his thumb finding that small sensitive bundle of nerves. You nearly screamed from the new sensation.

"Me too, sweetheart, m-me too, shit,' Lucifer breathed. "Cum f' me, l-let me feel you cum around me..."

With those words, stars clouded your vision. You felt your cunt pulsate around Lucifer's cock, tightening and squeezing him without abandon, your juices leaking onto his lap. Your orgasm pushed your lover over the edge as well, his grunts and whimpers echoing throughout the room as he filled you up to the brim with his hot seed, having to bite down your shoulder as to not lose himself in the pleasure. As you both started to recover from your highs, you cupped Lucifer's face in your hands and brought him in for a deep kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance, still trying to catch your breath in the process. You pulled away from him, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at your adoringly.

"You owe me a new rope," you chastised lovingly.

~~~

I have no real excuse for this :3

[m4ritos]

the quickest thing that will get marito hard and leaking, you ask? putting him in his place. ♡

marito is undoubtedly a very strong, admired and feared leader amongst his peers and Siguma. the amount of fanboys and men who are willing to throw themselves into outrageous situations rival even the most “passionate” of kpop stans.

all of that is great in certain aspect of marito’s life, but it affects his love life in a different kind of way. because more than anything.. marito likes pushback from his little love— he’s obsessed with the chase. it typically plays out like that, doesn’t it? men in these insane amounts of power and influence typically like to give it up in other aspects of their lives. marito jin is no different.

“you’re not still mad at me, are you, sweet pea~♡?” he’ll lean in for a kiss then and there but he’s met with a mean palm of your hand, stopping him from leaning in any further. the smile tugging at his lips drops almost immediately and he catches a good glimpse of you.

“don’t.” oh! that nasty look in your eye paired with the chill in your typically warm and kind eyes— it makes him fucking swoon and he finds himself hard in his pants.

after so much begging on his behalf to his beloved, the most he’ll get is a lazy foot-job with you standing above him and the most disinterested expression on your pretty little face. if you’re feeling a bit meaner you won’t touch him at all, instead he’s been brought to his knees fisting at his cock with both his hands.

he’s looking up at you with the most depraved and perverted look; a heavy flush on his cheeks and nose bridge, hearts practically in his pupils, with his tongue hanging out. marito is obsessed with every little thing about you— from the pretty hairs on your head to your feet.

his release leaves him a pathetic mess of a man.. his forehead resting on your thigh before he looks up at you with a lopsided grin.

copyright m4ritos 2024. do not repost or plagiarize. ©

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ BEHIND CLOSED DOORS!

꩜ PAIRING: sub!spencer reid x dom!afab!reader

꩜ RATING: 18+, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 5.4k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, d/s dynamics, "sweet pea" used SO MANY times, established relationship, inexperienced!spencer, first time pegging, tiny corruption kink, anal fingering(m receiving), mommy kink, aftercare, dacryphilia, overstimulation, slight edging, lots of praise, pet names(baby boy, sweet boy, baby etc), spencer going nonverbal lowkey, subspace

꩜ LYRIC: "Everybody's saying you're no good for me. But they don't see the dirty stuff you do to me"

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: this is like the first thing i'm actually nervous to post bcs i've been teasing this for so long and i'm scared it won't live up to expectations 0-0

Spencer was many things, subtle was not one of them. especially when he had something on his mind, like now. He was standing awkwardly in the doorway of your shared bedroom, shifting around on his feet as if to try and get your attention with a little tap show but you kept your focus on your book as you lay splayed out in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, wearing only plaid pyjama pants and a tank top.

you fought the smirk that twitched at the corners of your lips as you saw Spencer get more and more ansty in your peripheral vision, his hands clasped in front of him stiffly as he swayed in place and you couldn't help but let your curiosity get the better of you. 

"you gonna tell me what you want or just stand there and watch me, baby?" your tone was flat and you didn't even look up from your page as you spoke. You weren't doing it to be dismissive or rude, you just knew that your uninterested demeanour would get Spencer even more riled up, which it did, the sudden sound of your voice making his throat dry up and the words leave his mind. 

Spencer didn't really know how to breach the subject, he knew what he wanted very well and he knew what to say but it was how, how was he supposed to tell you with a straight face that he found your strap on and wanted you to use it on him? he trusted you of course, with his life, but he was still so new to a lot of things relationship wise and still struggled with properly communicating his needs and wants, which was okay, you were nothing but patient with him and honestly it was endearing the way he stuttered and stumbled over his words when it came to anything lewd. 

"I-I um- I don't- I don't know how to..." spencer's words died in his throat as he dropped his gaze to the floor, a pink blush spreading over his cheeks. your curiosity truly piqued, he was always nervous and shy but this was entirely different, he looked like he was about to sprint away from you and hide forever at a seconds notice. 

"Say it?" you finished his sentence, Spencer briefly meeting your eyes before he nodded shyly, hands still clasped at his crotch, his glasses low on his nose from the way he'd had his head lowered. 

"C'mere, sweet pea, sit," you finally slid the bookmark into your book, motioning spencer to sit at the edge of the bed before you set it down on your nightstand, sitting up properly to give him your full attention as he sheepishly lowered himself to sit at the bottom of the bed, your eyes on him honestly didn't help his case any, the way they bore into him making him feel so small. 

"Now, use your words, what is it that you want?" your tone wasn't demanding or domineering, more encouraging, the way you enunciated each word reminding spencer how he can trust you with anything, no matter how bizarre, minimal or trivial, you'd always made sure he knew that your relationship was a safe space for anything he had to say. 

"I uhm- I-I want- mmph" spencer cut himself off with a whine, averting his eyes from yours and focusing on his lap, letting out a shaky breath. "aw baby boy" you cooed, scooting down the bed to him and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder blade. 

"You can tell me baby, remember? no judgement." you spoke softly as you gently stroked your hand over his back, helping soothe his nerves. 

"O-Okay I- I want you to...uhm...f-fuck me" spencer's voice was barely above a whisper, stumbling over his words as he blushed a dark pink and completely avoided looking at you, almost as if you weren't even there.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, it wasn't like what he said was hard to understand it's just that you fucked him all the time so what was so terrifying about asking you this time? it wasn't his first time outright asking you to fuck him, which he did always get bashful about but not like this. 

"I don't think I follow, I fuck you all the time baby, what's so scary about this time?" Your voice was filled with genuine confusion as you spoke, your words making Spencer whine. I mean what did he expect, you weren't a mind reader, of course you weren't going to immediately know what he meant. 

"N-Not like that..." he reiterated, trying to sway you to the answer on your own so he wouldn't have to say it, so he wouldn't have to admit that he'd done nothing but picture you fucking him senseless with a silicone cock for days on end. 

"You want me to fuck you differently? you want me to be less rough? more rough?" you suddenly felt a guilt in your stomach at the thought that you had been too rough with him and he hadn't told you at the time, just going along to please you, which is the last thing you wanted. 

"N-No! not that- I just- I uhm- I found...something...in your drawer and I-" spencer's voice trailed off but as soon he motioned to said drawer it all clicked into place, he had found your strap on and wanted you to fuck him. 

"Oh! goodness why didn't you just say that, baby? for a second I thought I'd been too rough with you," your voice was laced with genuine relief before you paused completely, his words actually reaching your brain and processing. He wanted you to peg him. Your sweet, innocent, submissive boyfriend wanted you to peg him, it was like a wet dream. 

"I-I was...nervous" Spencer answered your question, still nervous but a lot less so now that the worst of it was over, or so he thought. 

"Sweet boy, no need to be nervous about that, you could've just said you wanted mommy to fuck your pretty hole" your tone dropped as you spoke, tugging your lip between your teeth when you heard spencer let out a quiet gasp at your lewd words, unable to even muster up a reply. 

"wanna tell mommy what you were snooping for?" you pressed, knowing that he probably wasn't snooping for anything in particular, in all honesty he was probably putting something away for you and just so happened to stumble upon the wrong, or right(depending on how you look at it)drawer. 

"N-Nothing! it was an accident, mommy, I swear" Spencer spoke hurriedly, slightly panicked sounding at the accusation and you couldn't help but coo at him, feeling a rush of arousal through you at his state. 

"Okay, okay, i believe you, baby," you raised your hands in surrender, Spencer looking slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to plead with you to believe him like the time he had a wet dream and you accused him of touching himself without permission, which was untrue, he was such a good boy and had never once intentionally broken any of your rules. 

"So tell me, sweet pea, how long has this been playing on that magnificent mind of yours?" your tone was slightly teasing, mostly because you knew that it had been playing on his mind for at least a few days for him to bring it up, knowing all to well how he was never very forward with his desires. 

You saw Spencer's eyes widen slightly before he let them trail around the room, letting a breath out from his nose, his eyes fluttering closed. "L-Like...uhm a week" you knew he was bullshitting you, he knew exactly how long he had been thinking about it, there was no such thing as "like a week" to spencer and he knew you didn't buy it with the way you lowered your head, brows quirking. 

"...eleven days" he admitted bashfully, fidgeting with his hands as the tension grew thick in the room, the feeling of your eyes boring into him making him gulp and shift in his seat. 

"Aww you poor thing, must've been so worked up about the whole thing hm?" you crooned, feigning a pout at him as he nodded, mirroring a pout back to you, paired with big doe eyes. 

"Why don't you take your clothes off for me, baby boy" you breathed in his ear, resting your chin on his shoulder while stroking your hand over his waist, a quiet whine escaping his lips as you pulled away from him, purposely sauntering over to your drawers slowly. 

Spencer swallowed thickly as he moved to start unbuttoning his shirt, his slender fingers moving quickly until he reached the last button, quickly pulling his shirt down his shoulders and tossing it on the floor before moving to undo his pants, his movements stopped by you retrieving the strap on and a bottle of lube from the drawer, the sight making spencer's thighs clench in anticipation. 

You turned around to see Spencer gawking at the item in your hand with wide eyes, not even noticing you looking at him until you cleared your throat, "what did I tell you to do?" you reminded him, Spencer's hands fumbling as he quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, "sorry, mommy" he murmured, averting your gaze once again. 

You watched like a hawk as Spencer hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and boxers, lifting himself enough to tug them down over his ass and down his legs, kicking them off to the side, leaving him in just his glasses and endearingly mismatched socks. 

"Thats mommy's good boy, so pretty baby," you praised, watching spencer's leaking cock twitch at your words, the sight making you bite your lip as you made your way over to him, setting down the strap and lube before positioning yourself in front of him, lifting his chin with your finger to look at you. 

"Sit back for me, baby" you ordered softly, Spencer immediately complying, shifting back to the middle of the bed and pressing his knees together nervously when he realised how exposed he was, which made you smile sweetly at him. 

You slowly climbed onto the bed with him, placing your hands on his knees and urging his thighs apart, Spencer gulping as he let his legs go slack, exposing his painfully hard, leaking cock, the tip flushed red and swollen, you know he's aching to be touched, his sensitive cock having been neglected of any stimulation. 

"So pretty baby" you murmured, smoothing your hands down his inner thighs, purposefully stopping just shy of where he needed you, a whimper falling from his lips when you pulled your hands away completely. 

"Need to get you prepped, sweet pea, 's that okay?" you made sure to make it abundantly clear that he had an out if he changed his mind, which he already knew but it didn't hurt to remind him. 

Spencer nodded shakily, eyes darting anywhere but your face. "words, my love" you raised your brow at him with a knowing expression, reminding him of the rules. "y-yes, mommy" he stuttered, a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead and a flush spreading down to his chest. 

"Good boy" you breathed, leaning back to retrieve the lube and popping the cap open, squeezing out a generous amount onto your middle and index finger. "Wider, baby" you encouraged, nudging his knee with your elbow, Spencer immediately spreading his legs wider for you, blushing impossibly harder at the compromising position. 

"Doing good baby, this is gonna be cold, okay?" you warned as you lowered your hand, Spencer nodding, his breathing slightly laboured as he watched your hand inch closer and closer to him until the cold sensation of the lube pressing to his entrance made him gasp, eyes squeezing shut as you smeared the slightly thick substance over him, your fingertips teasing his hole and making his cock twitch. 

"Lay back for me, sweet pea" you spoke sweetly, placing your free hand on his stomach. urging him onto his back so you could scoot closer, your thighs positioned under his, unable to resist biting your lip at the difference in size, your larger, plush thighs looking almost double the size of his. 

The sound of spencer whining pulled you from your train of thought, reminding you of what you were supposed to be doing. "Sorry, love, just look so cute," your compliment made Spencer turn his cheek to you, making a fruitless attempt at hiding the almost giddy expression on his face, which quickly contorted into an expression of surprise as you eased your middle finger into him, slow and steady as not to overwhelm him on his first time. 

"M-Mommy!" he mewled, clenching around your finger as you pushed it in all the way. You remained unmoving, just getting him used to the intrusion. "Shh baby shh, relax for mommy, you've got to relax" you soothed, rubbing your free hand up and down his waist, the combination of your soft touch and the feeling of you inside him making his cock twitch, a sizeable puddle of cum on his pelvis from how needy he was, his tip almost constantly leaking. 

Spencer took a heavy breath, shifting around slightly to get comfortable, your finger pushing deeper into him as he did and making him let out a sharp gasp, his hand flying to grip yours that rested on his waist. "That's it, baby, good boy," you praised softly as you slowly started thrusting your finger in and out of him, watching his facial expressions closely for any sign of discomfort. 

"You okay, sweet pea?" you asked, making sure to check in on him as much as possible as your movements sped up, beginning to curl your finger into him in time with your thrusts, the sensation making Spencer lightheaded, unable to even muster up the words, instead just nodding eagerly, which you let slide for now. 

"You think you can take another, baby?" You were confident that he could, by the way his muscles had relaxed, your digit sliding in and out of him with ease, but you still wanted to make sure he was comfortable and prepared for the intrusion. 

Spencer nodded keenly, his breathing heavy as he laid back on your sheets, his hand in yours, and his head tipped back. "Words, baby boy, you need to hear it." In all honesty, you didn't really need him to say it, but selfishly, you wanted him to. 

"Yes, m-more, mommy," he gasped as you continued to thrust your finger gently before pressing the tip of your index finger to his entrance, slowly pushing it in along with your middle finger, the extra stretch making Spencer buck his hips towards you, accidentally pushing your fingers in all the way, a loud moan falling from his lips involuntarily when your fingertips prodded his sweet spot, the sensation like nothing he'd ever felt before. 

"Mommy! I-I-" Spencer couldn't even fathom what he was trying to say, but you understood, squeezing his waist reassuringly. "I know, baby, such a good boy for mommy; you want more?" You already knew the answer to your question, but the idea of having your innocent baby boy beg you to finger-fuck him made your head swim. 

"P-Please mommy! n-need it," Spencer whimpered, rolling his hips towards you again, effectively fucking himself onto your fingers, and you couldn't help but moan quietly at the sight. "Seems like you're doing a pretty good job yourself, baby," you teased, making Spencer whine, slightly out of embarrassment that he was so desperate already but also because he wanted you to move.

"Okay, okay, sweet pea, stay still for me," you spoke softly before sliding your fingers out of him almost completely and thrusting them back in, hitting that perfect spot dead on, Spencer letting out a yelp of pleasure as his back arched and his thighs threatened to close, your free hand moving to pin his thigh down. 

You watched in perverted fascination as Spencer's cock twitched with each thrust of your fingers, precum dribbling down his shaft and pooling at the base. "Feel good, baby?" you asked almost teasingly, already knowing the answer. 

"Y-Yes! Feel s-so good, mommy! 'm gonna-" Spencer cut himself off with a loud whine, his back arching and thighs trembling as he clenched around your fingers, indicating that he was about to cum. 

"No, you're not," you said flatly as you abruptly pulled your fingers out of him. Spencer immediately let out a pathetic cry as he raised his head to look at you with big, wet eyes. "P-Please! I was- I was good, m-mommy p-please, wanna c-cum, please!'' Spencer begged desperately, tears welling in his eyes as he watched you completely pull away from him, moving to stand at the foot of the bed.

"Be patient, sweet pea, mommy is gonna make you cum, don't worry," you said in a sultry tone, looking at him through hooded eyes as you slowly pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to him, and watching as his eyes fixed on them, his cock twitching in anticipation as you hooked your fingers into your waistband, tugging your pants and underwear down in one. 

Spencer swallowed thickly as he watched you secure the strap around your legs and waist, making sure that it wasn't going anywhere before you looked up. Spencer didn't even notice, his eyes trained on the fake cock as he sat with his legs still spread, leaning back on his hands with his glasses crooked on his face. 

"God, you're so fucking pretty, baby, y'know that?" You spoke breathlessly, moving to climb back onto the bed with him, smiling at the way he whined and turning his face away in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks. Spencer was never good at accepting compliments, always blushing at the slightest praise and turning away from you, which only made you compliment him and praise him more, loving to see the effect you had on him. 

"You still want this, baby?" you asked softly, situating yourself between his open legs and cupping his cheek to tilt his face to you, a gentle smile on your lips as he looked back at you with pleading eyes. "Yes," he almost whispered, averting his eyes from yours. 

"Yes, what?" You reminded him, quirking a brow and smirking slightly as you moved to fetch the bottle of lube from where you'd left it. "Yes, please, mommy," he corrected himself, flushing all the way down to his chest as he watched you pour a copious amount of lube onto your strap, biting down on his lip to stop himself from moaning at the sight of you spreading it from tip to base. 

Spencer watched you look around for a moment for something to wipe your hand on, brows furrowed until an expression of realisation crossed your face and you absentmindedly reached out to take his cock into your hand, stroking him a few times with your completely slick hand, the feeling making him gasp and whimper before you pulled your hand away, smiling sweetly, "so useful, baby," you teased, making Spencer pout dramatically, feigning annoyance at you practically using him as a washcloth. 

"No fair," he huffed, brows pulled together, and bottom lip jutted out in some attempt to look mad, which only made you giggle at him, making him frown harder. "Stick to looking pretty; it's what you're good at," you snorted, placing your hand on his chest and pushing him back, Spencer complying immediately, entirely pliant to your touch. 

"Relax for me, sweet pea; it might hurt a little bit, okay?" Your tone was smooth and soft as you spoke, moving your hand to hold his hip and stroking your thumb over his protruding bone, holding back from commenting on how skinny he is. 

"Mhm, 'm ready, mommy," he said breathlessly, swallowing thickly as he watched you shift closer to him, pressing your thighs to the backs of his and taking the base of your strap into your hand, guiding it towards his waiting entrance until the tip was pressed to him. Spencer gasped quietly and nodded, knowing you were waiting for his go-ahead before slowly pushing the tip into him, your eyes fixed on his expressions. 

"O-Oh m-mommy!" He mewled, his hands gripping the sheets at his sides, his eyes squeezed shut, and his brows furrowed as you gradually pushed further and further into him, the stretch making him pant and gasp. 

"Doing so good, baby, so good for mommy," you praised reassuringly as you bottomed out inside him, the sight of his face contorted in discomfort making you worry. "Am I hurting you, sweet pea? We can stop if it's too painful." You reminded him that he didn't have to continue just to please you, but he didn't want to stop, shaking his head quickly as he breathed heavily. 

"N-No! Just so- s-so full," he gasped, his voice high-pitched and whiny, his words making your stomach flip, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, forcing yourself not to brutally fuck him until he couldn't talk. 

"Tell me when you're ready, baby," you soothed, Spencer nodding as you placed your hands on his inner thighs, squeezing lightly before running them slowly up to grip the backs of his knees and tugging him closer to you, the movement making your cock push impossibly deeper, a quiet cry spilling from his lips as his legs tensed, stretching out behind you.

"P-Please mommy! N-Need it," Spencer whimpered, rolling his hips towards you to show you what he needed. The sight of him fucking himself onto your strap made you clench around nothing before you adjusted yourself, placing your hands on his thighs and pulling back slowly, stilling for a moment before pushing back in. 

You started off slow so as not to overwhelm him too much, setting a gentle and steady pace as you fucked him rhythmically, caressing his thighs as you did, whispering gentle praises to him to reassure and remind him that he was doing well. 

"M-More, mommy, w-want more." Spencer suddenly whimpered, his voice just above a whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear him, but you definitely did, and you were in no position to deny him. How could you? 

"So good, sweet pea, telling mommy what you want," you praised softly, knowing he struggled with voicing what he wanted, your heart swelling with pride as you squeezed the soft flesh of his thighs, your pace picking up and making him let out an abrupt moan, louder than the other sounds he'd made, his cheeks flushing once again at the sound of himself before he pressed his lips together to keep himself quiet. 

"No, no, baby, let mommy hear you," you breathed, squeezing his thighs again as your gaze fixed on his face, watching as he let his jaw fall slack as you continued to fuck him at a steady pace, smiling to yourself as he let himself let go, moaning and whimpering wantonly.

"That's it, baby, so good," you praised softly as you stroked your hands up his thighs to his hips, taking a hold of them and pausing your thrusts, gently moving to be kneeling rather than leaning back on your heels. The adjustment made him let out a whine that turned into a harsh gasp as the new angle had you pushing deeper into him. 

You wordlessly started thrusting again, the new angle catching Spencer off guard as the tip of your strap practically hammered into his sweet spot, his mind going completely blank as the sensation overwhelmed him like nothing he'd felt before, letting out the most lewd, sweet sounds you'd ever heard him make, a mixture of incoherent pleas, whimpers, and choked moans. 

"Gonna cum, baby boy?" you asked, having a pretty big hunch that he was by the way his cock bounced against his stomach, his back arching upward.

Spencer couldn't even fathom a reply to you, not even in his head. He heard the words and understood them, but all he could do was nod quickly, gripping the sheets at his sides as his chest heaved. 

You watched as tears streamed down his pink cheeks, needy sobs falling from his parted lips along with sharp gasps and words you couldn't make sense of, not even sure that he knew what he was trying to say. 

"Mommy!" was the only word that he finally choked out that was comprehensible, his stomach tensing and back arching just that little bit more as he released all over himself, thick white spurts of cum coating his stomach and up to his chest as he trembled and squirmed under you. 

"Oh, sweet thing, you made such a mess of yourself," you cooed as you took in his state while still thrusting into him, but at a slower and gentler pace, revelling in the little sounds he made with each one, something like a meek yelp as his body twitched.

"N-No! Please, please" he whined when you stilled completely and started to pull out of him, his desperate protest making you widen your eyes and halt your movements. 

"Please what? Baby, what do you want?" You asked softly, a worried undertone to your voice in case you were hurting him somehow, watching his features contort into displeasure, his lip jutting out. 

"More, w-want more, mommy," he whined, his voice high-pitched and breathy as he let his thighs close around you, practically locking you in as he lay limp under you, completely fucked out but begging for more. 

"Anything for you, sweet boy," you smiled as you pushed back in the mere inch he allowed you to pull out, watching him fall into a completely blissed-out, submissive state as you fucked him deep and slow, drinking up every little sound he made. 

You couldn't resist reaching out to wrap your hand around his neglected cock, beginning to stroke his length in time with your thrusts. The added stimulation making Spencer choke out a sob as he began to tremble again, evidently overstimulated, but he didn't show any signs of wanting you to stop, so you didn't. 

"Doing so, so good, baby, doing so well, so proud of you," you praised, telling no word of a lie. For the first time, he was doing so well, better than most would, and it made your heart swell. 

Spencer's sounds quickly grew in volume until he was once again whimpering and moaning wantonly, the overstimulation making him unable to hold back, his mind clouded with nothing but lust and how good your touch felt on his cock and how full he felt as you fucked him, the mixture of everything making his second orgasm approach quickly. 

"G-gonna-" he choked out, the words dying in his throat, but it was enough for you to understand him, shifting your hand to focus more on his tip, tightening your hold just slightly as he gasped and writhed under you, tears covering over the previous tear stains on his cheeks as his thighs clamped around your waist. 

Spencer went completely silent as his jaw dropped open and his eyes screwed shut as he came hard, spilling over your hand and his stomach again as his hips rutted into your fist, choking out the most delicious whimpers and sobs as his whole body began shaking and trembling. 

You released your hold on his length once he started whimpering and pulling away from you, showing that he'd had enough without having to say it, so you just let your hand rest on his hip again, your thumbs stroking over them gently as he breathed heavily, clearly exhausted. 

"Gonna pull out, baby, okay? Keep still for me," you said softly, warning him so your movements wouldn't startle him. You waited for him to give you a tired nod before you slowly started pulling out of him, making sure to be extra careful not to hurt him. 

Spencer winced slightly, but ultimately your strap slipped out of him easily, and he finally sank completely into the sheets, eyes closed and body limp. You gently got up from the bed, undoing the strap before pulling your pants and underwear back on, followed by your shirt. 

You quietly left the room to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water and leaving your strap by the sink to clean later before making your way back to your shared bedroom, smiling at the sight of Spencer splayed out on your bed, completely fucked out. 

"Mommy's gonna clean you up, okay?" You practically whispered, feeling like if you were too loud it might startle him. Spencer simply nodded in response as you climbed back onto the bed with him and situated yourself between his still-spread thighs, gently and softly cleaning the drying cum from his stomach and chest, being extra careful when cleaning his now soft length, and apologising quietly when he winced slightly.

"All done, no more, sweet pea," you reassured him as you threw the washcloth in the general direction of the laundry basket. 

"You want mommy to get you something to wear? some water?" You asked, worried he might be a little cold laying there completely bare, save for those cute mismatched socks, of course. 

"Yes, please, both," he rasped, his voice spent from all that noise he was making, and you couldn't help but feel bad even if it wasn't your fault. 

"Okay, baby," you smiled before getting up from the bed to make your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, picking a decently large one just to be sure, and quickly making your way back, using your free hand to fetch a very similar pair of pyjama pants to what you were wearing. 

You set the glass down on the bedside table before turning to him. "Can you sit up for me, sweet pea?" you asked softly, Spencer's eyes fluttering open before he nodded, shifting his weight onto his hands as he sat up, groggily swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Good boy, now lift your feet for me," you encouraged Spencer, following your every instruction as you slid the soft material over his legs, lifting himself just enough so you could pull them over his probably tender ass. 

"That's it; now sip this for me; don't drink too fast, okay?" You instructed softly, handing the glass to him but making sure to keep a good hold of it until you were sure he wouldn't drop it, his hand shaking slightly as he brought it to his lips, taking small mouthfuls like you'd told him to. 

Spencer shakily handed the glass back to you when he was finished, looking up at you with heavy eyes as you placed it back down, a pout forming on his lips as he looked at you. 

"What is it, baby?" You cooed, shifting closer to him to rest your hand on his head, stroking his hair softly as he whined, wordlessly reaching out for you, his arms wrapping around your hips and pulling you into him so he could rest his cheek on your stomach, nuzzling his face into you. 

"Oh, sweet pea, you want mommy to cuddle with you?" You asked sweetly. The way Spencer nodded quickly making you smile wide as he let you go so you could climb onto the bed with him, shifting onto the opposite side from him. As soon as your back was meeting the sheets, he was practically on top of you, his head nuzzled into your chest, and his leg swung over you as he lay half on top of you with his arm around your waist. 

"You did so well, baby, always such a good boy for mommy," you murmured as you felt yourself getting tired too, letting your fingers card through his hair as you felt him smile against you at the praise. 

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, and you knew you wouldn't be long after him, but you hated when he slept in his glasses, so you ever so carefully manoeuvred his face so you could gently grab the bridge or his glasses between your thumb and finger and slowly slide them off his face, sighing in relief when he didn't stir before folding them and placing them on your nightstand. 

"Night, sweet pea," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his hair like you do every single night before letting your eyes fall closed.

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @reidsdaisies @iluvreid @fliesforeyes @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @unimportantweirdo @criminalmindswife @deluluforu @busybeingstrange

(if you wanna be tagged when i post fics just lmk!)

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

okay so i saw this tiktok and immediately said 'but what if steddie?' so here you go!

Steve honestly can't believe he let Robin convince him to go to this goddamn haunted house...attraction...thing.

He also can't believe that they somehow got separated. Them! The two peas in a pod who share the same braincell!

Now he's wandering the place alone, and in the goddamn dark. Following whatever sparks of light he can find, though he knows that's just gonna lead him to more scares.

'and to the exit, Dingus.' Robin's voice says in his head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm almost out of here anyway, right?" he says aloud to no one.

"Wrong you are, pretty boy." a husky voice says into his ear from the dark, and Steve's running.

Running, running, running, somehow not tripping over shit in the dark, just letting his instincts take him wherever they want while some freak in a mask and wielding a machete follows close behind, cackling all the while.

The thing also says things like, "They're so much sweeter when fear courses through their veins!" and "The pretty ones always die first, that's why I'm still around." each followed by more unhinged cackles.

Finally, Steve turns a corner to find blinding light. Well, blinding to the rest of the place at least.

A steady light comes from a lantern beside a chainlink gate. He dashes to it, thinking its salvation, only to find a blank black wall behind it.

It was only another set piece.

"Oh fuck."

"Hello sweet thing,"

Steve spins, pressing his back against the fence behind him, heart hammering through his whole body.

The creature, in a bloody pig mask, as Steve can see now, chuckles hoarsely when he comes around the corner..and in the way of the only exit.

"Oh, fuck."

"Oh darling, there won't be time for any of that, now will there?"

Steve registers everything he can about the thing as it stalks closer. He's about Steve's height, slighter in build from the legs he can see under the ratty gown thing he wears, and he's immediately got a plan.

"You would look so sweet under me, though, wouldn't you?"

Damn, this guys' been flirting with him this whole time. Weird, unhinged haunted house flirting, but flirting nonetheless.

Another piece of the plan slots into place.

"C'mon darling, why so quiet? Lemme hear those screa---"

The thing surges forward, machete raised, so Steve shoots out an arm, catching his wrist and gripping tight.

With the other, he shoves at the thing's shoulder and spins them, pinning it against the metal fence with a clang.

Finally, Steve sets his moves to stun; dropping the thing's arm and using both hands to lift the plastic pig mask up over the actor's face, everything slows to a crawl.

Steve takes in the face of the actor pinned under him in a split second. He's just about the same age as Steve, with long dark hair that frizzes out under the lip of the mask where it's caught between it and his face. His face, thoroughly sweaty and flushed from chasing people around all night, is looking up at him in shock with big dark eyes and...holy shit..

Is it ethical to fall in love at first sight at a haunted house? With the thing guy that was chasing you?

Time speeds up again and Steve surges forward this time, locking his hands along the man's jaw instead of on the mask, letting it fall down onto his face as he kisses him.

Deep, quick, and with a quick flash of tongue before he's spinning and racing back out the way he came, this time being lucky enough to find the exit along a path he had taken the wrong fork in last time.

"Holy shit, Steve! There you are! What happened??" Robin catches him as he clambers though the curtain covered exit.

"I..." he takes a deep breath, holding himself up by his knees "I fell in love."

ehehehe there's a part 2 to this :o)

[pedge-page]

i love your preggo wife drabbles soo much!!! could you write one where joel takes care of reader with her morning sickness? 🫶🏻

Joel dealing with Preggo Reader: Morning Sickness

Notes: Idk why I keep making reader so mean but he's such a trooper! I'm also no pregnancy expert obviously so plz take my minimal effort in research with a grain of salt.

Warnings: mean reader, language, vomitting, morning sickness

- - - -

"I hate your penis."

Joel rolls his eyes. It's only the 11th time you've said it today while being hunched over the toilet, with Joel caringly hovering over you, holding your hair out of the way as you take a deep breath and hurl the breakfast he made you this morning.

"I hate—"

"I know, sweet pea. Just breathe."

You nod in an almost drunken state. He knows its because you've got no energy in you to really fight him, with the baby giving you all the first batch of hell in the life long journey of headaches in child bearing.

He rubs over your spin, caressing the shivers raking over your body so you can focus on not dying right now.

"I hate your toes. I hate your shampoo. I hate your fingernails. I hate your toast.  I hate—"

"Ah huh..."

At first he was pretty upset and angered by how much you loath him, but at some point he's tuned it out and just holds and shushes you. While you pout your disdain for the man, you don't oppose his touch.

For now.

"Doin' so good, baby. It's only temporary, baby's just making sure you're a tough momma—"

"Shut the fuck up and get me some water."

Joel stands, his knees reminding him of his less than youthful age, before running downstairs and grabbing a bottle.

You were both a little surprised that all the morning sickness you were warned about hadn't really given either of you trouble in your first trimester. It came with a surprise by the middle of your second, and comes and goes on a daily basis. Today is honestly not so bad: it's your attitude shift that really gives him whiplash.

By the time he gets back up, you're already meandering out of the bathroom like a lost soul with puffy, sleep deprived eyes, and over to the bed, slowly crawling over the mattress, muttering "too tall". You feel his hand supportively on your back, but you snap "fuck off" and get in the bed yourself. He goes to tuck you in with the sheet, but again your hand slaps his away and you close your eyes into darkness.

You can still feel his annoying presence. "What!" You yell, eyes shooting open to see the bottle dangling from his hand. You snatch it without a thank you and gulp.

Joel's just got his hands on his hips, staring at you.

"Kern I hEp ouu, Hondah?" You gurgle through your water sloshing in your mouth.

He just chuckles to himself. "You're cute like this."

You swallow. "I'll fuck you the fuck up."

He laughs even harder, seemingly unserious in your threats. To him, you looked even smaller than before, despite the obvious roundness growing in your tum tum. You seemed like some small puppy finding her growl, or toddler pointing her finger trying to be intimidating but unaware of how badly you're failing.

"So amusing? Why dont you make yourself useful and rub my feet," you demand.

"You need to eat food, baby girl."

"BaBy GiRl" you mock with puppet hand mouth. "NAG nag NAG. I Don't WANT food. I want my FOOT. In your HAND. before I put it up your ASS."

Joel can tolerate the baby cock-blocking him for a few weeks and the endless assult of your words, but he puts his foot down when your basic needs arent being met. "I need you to eat food. You need energy. Baby needs energy."

"Fine! Crackers, you crackhead. Then—" and you thrust your leg in the hair and wiggle your foot in his face so he gets the picture.

"Okay okay!" And he walks out the bedroom.

Joel spends a record 4 minutes downstairs hurriedly putting together a fancy array of cracker options, from Saltines, to Townhouse, to Ritz. He also pops a few cubes of diced ham in his mouth and then holds a few in his hand to snack on later since he too had to abandon breakfast to service you.

By the time you're conplaining "it's been hours!" He's trotting up the stairs, you wiggle your bum so you sit upright in bed, hand over gurgling belly as he brings the tray to you.

Just as youre about to feast on these dry ass cardboard squares, your nose twitches. You see Joel chewing something in his grasp, popping one cube of pale meat quickly into his mouth, and it takes all of 2 seconds for the smell to travel to your brain before you're throwing the tray on the ground, crackers spilling all over the carpet and b lining to the bathroom again to throw up.

As he hears your dramatic gasps and hurls, Joel pulls out his little note pad he's been documenting your pregnancy so far. He writes "no ham" in the lines , right under "hates my penis", before tossing the paper on the bed and stroking your hair lovingly again as you empty your entire organs in the toilet.

By the time you finish, you've got snot and tears running down your face. "but I LOVED HAAAMMMMM" You screech.

It's true. You used to wrap a thick spread of cold butter on a slice of cheap deli ham and eatnit like a cannoli— something he thought was a weird aquired taste BEFORE he even got you pregnant.

Joel grabs a tissue and plants it firmly in your face, and you squeeze your eyes tight and blow right into his palm like a little snot nosed trumpet. He rubs his fingers in your nostrils to get all the boogers out before tossing it and helping you up to your feet again.

All the while you're bawling "l-l-loved—my hh-ham—n cheese" with gross babbling as he tucks you back in the duvet. You were fine with giving up other aversions like tomatoes, pizza crust, and yogurt. Even sex (occasionally). But your beloved ham is one baby step too far.

"Your—"sniffle— "big—"hiccup—"ugly—"choke—"WORM —" cough—"DID THIS TO MEEE," you accuse his crotch and wail into the air.

Then you hiccup very loudly and go quiet entirely.

You look around with curious eyes, fresh tears suddenly unbothering you at the moment.

"Mmmmmmmn crackers," you moan. "Gimme that one," and you point to the mess on the floor.

"What one?"

"That one!"

He bends down and picks up a piece.

But you shake your head. "No that one."

"No." "No the other." "No."

"Which one!" He shouts, unable to contain the lace of frustration.

"The one I'm pointing to, stupid!"

He finally picks up one hes pointed to 3 times already and you clap your hands.

You snatch it out of his grasp, pull a hair off its curved cracked edge before munching on it happily.

He looks at with uncertainty on his face.

You swallow the dry mushed bits and hum contently. "Mmm. Salty."

-

Not even 12 hours later  you two are getting ready for bed, and you mood has completely changed. Still sick, but instead of being unable to stand Joel's entire existence, you praise it.

"Joel, honey? Can you please prop my feet up Under this pillow. I'm sorry. I just can't seem to reach it myself."

"Baby? I'm a little thirsty. Can you get me some water?"

"Im so sorry, Joel. I just can't stomach this food, I know you put so much effort into it. Ugh! I loved this, I really did! I don't know what's wrong with me."

You rub over the discomfort in your slightly swollen tummy and try to be a brave girl and fight the tears, as Joel's been so attentive to your needs, aches, cries and cravings, only to hurl them back up.

You sniffle and look up to him.

He's a bit tense, almost in a fight or flight stance with fear behind his eyes.

"W-whats wrong, Joel?" you ask with a honey song voice.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

- - - -

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