#shake it this way… shake it that way… and stir it all around… and it's done!

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Sunghoon

doll!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements, anything else lmk! wc: 8.9k synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return jaeyun | masterlist | jongseong a/n: hi! this is the second installation of this series and i'm enjoying writing it so so much! there's a little bit of the lore in here and i tried to put in some little nuggets like word play and everything to give you guys some hints! i hope you enjoy and as always, likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

In the week following your encounter with Jaeyun, you've stirred something deep within him. Whenever possible, he finds his way to your side, lending himself to you as he helps you with your daily chores, holding onto your hand when you sit down for some relaxation time between cleaning and cooking, and most importantly - at least for him - he’s been fucking you like crazy.

Something about last week made him feel alive, stronger than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to have that feeling ignited within him almost every day. He coaxed you into having sex a second time around by using those beautiful round eyes to pull at your heartstrings and break your resolve and from then your embarrassment subsided and you used one another to your heart's desire.

Having sex with a doll puts you in the same bracket as those lonely middle-aged men who have no friends and find solace with their rubber girlfriends, which is quite embarrassing. But this is different, you like to think, Jaeyun is for all intent and purpose alive and might as well be a real human.

Sure, he doesn’t have internal organs, his skin is made from thermoplastic elastomer, and his doll shell is made from durable porcelain with insulated heat, but he’s as real as they come. You did ask him how he can get hard and fill you up to the brim with his faux seed, but he says it’s just the way he’s designed. 

Soonyeol is a kinky bitch and she knew exactly what she was doing when she purchased these specific dolls.

You break Soonyeol’s rules almost every day because of him though, venturing into his room to fuck him silly, both of you seeking pleasure and comfort in each other's presence, holding one another close late into the night, swapping stories and laughter; it is nice to have someone to talk to, even if it’s in hushed tones.

Your inquiries into his origins and existence yield no concrete answers; after all, he's only been "alive" for a short time and consequently doesn’t know much about himself, his only offering is to explain that Heeseung and Jongseong know the most out of the four of them. And with your promise to Jaeyun to keep his slip-up of spilling the beans to you a secret from his brothers, seeking clarification from the other dolls remains off-limits.

That doll can get you to do anything he asks if he wants to and it’s almost embarrassing to admit.

As you go about your daily routines, you maintain a facade of normalcy, interacting with the other three dolls just as you did before discovering their secret. You speak to them as if they were merely inanimate objects, not expecting any response in return.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a sense of unease creeps in the longer you’re in the room with any of them that isn’t Jaeyun. You can't shake the feeling that their eyes are following you, tracking your every move with an unsettling intensity. What once was blissful ignorance is now hyper-awareness. 

At times, you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find objects mysteriously rearranged or misplaced when you turn to investigate. It's a subtle form of mischief, one that leaves you feeling disconcerted and off-balance, unsure of what other tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Jaeyun assures you time and time again that none of his brothers would act in malice, however, his words fail to instil any comfort, especially around Heeseung. 

From the moment you arrived at the mansion, Heeseung had captivated you with an inexplicable allure, drawing you in with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. It was as if he possessed a power unlike any of the other dolls. He was the one that got you to say yes to staying, you know it.

But beneath that surface charm, there's a darkness that unsettles you, a sense of malevolence that lingers in the air whenever he's near. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's a palpable sense of foreboding that hangs over your interactions with him, like a shadow creeping across your consciousness. He is dangerous and the soul - or whatever it is that he has that brings his doll to life - is entrenched in a dark cloud, one that you want to steer clear of for the rest of your time.

Despite your reservations, you find yourself drawn to Heeseung, unable to resist the pull of his enigmatic presence. But with each passing day, the feeling of unease only grows stronger, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath his doll facade.

You’re cleaning the library and the sun is beaming through the large windows, the hot sun adding an uncomfortable heat to your body.

You continue regardless, wiping your brow and dusting down the shelves with a lime green feather duster you found hidden in the kitchen cupboard. You wanted to do a good job but the library is extensive with wall-to-wall shelves filled with books ranging from present to pre-world war one and you’ll be damned if you’re cleaning each book one at a time; the feather duster will be your new best friend.

As you make your way toward the desk positioned in the centre of the room, a surge of curiosity washes over you, compelling you to indulge in a bit of snooping. The allure of uncovering secrets about the mansion and its mysterious owner, Soonyeol, proves irresistible, fueling your determination to explore further.

With cautious steps, you approach the desk, scanning its surface for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed documents. Your fingers itch with curiosity as you reach for the drawers, your heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. If there are any clues to be found, surely they would be nestled within the confines of this desk.

It’s ridiculous how exciting you find all of this like you’re in some James Bond movie about to uncover the deep secrets of the villain. It’s not that deep but you need to find some excitement in the quiet of this home, so why not make snooping around the fun part of your day?

Beside Jaeyun, of course. 

When Jaeyun is with you, you don’t pry into the mansion, scared that he will take it the wrong way, like you’re trying to expose the brothers and their minder.

Listen to yourself, Y/N. You’re worried about a doll’s feelings, you think to yourself and cringe. It’s concerning how much you don’t want to hurt the doll but that’s just the effect he has on you.

Your fingers wrap around the drawer handles, eagerness flowing through you as you prepare to reveal whatever mysteries may be hidden inside. You gently tug on the drawers, but to your dismay, they remain firmly closed, guarding their contents from prying eyes.

Frowning in frustration, you give the handles a harder shake, trying to remove whatever mechanism is keeping them locked. Despite your attempts, the drawers refuse to move, it's secrets tantalisingly out of reach.

“Shit,” you murmur, trying one more time.

Your gaze wanders over the desk, looking for any sign of a key or secret compartment that may lead to the contents of the drawers. Your pulse rushes with excitement as you dig through the desk, brushing your fingertips around the edges in search of a secret latch or trapdoor.

However, as you scan every inch of the desk, your search provides no results, leaving you feeling irritated and dissatisfied. There must be some way to get those drawers open, there’s no way if there wasn’t something secret inside, some form of incriminating evidence about Soonyeol, that she would keep them locked up. 

As you stand before the locked drawers, your mind flows with questions regarding Soonyeol's occupation and the mystery surrounding her actual identity. The mansion's vintage furnishings and rows of ancient porcelain dolls appear to point to a career in antique collecting, but an ongoing feeling of anxiety suggests darker possibilities. If she was a mere collector, how on earth did she manage to obtain four dolls who are alive? Is she just insanely clued up on possessed dolls and where to find them on eBay?

You look around the room to see if any pictures are hung suspiciously, all those nights of binge-watching Sherlock Holmes are coming in handy because you know now that pictures almost always hold either a safe or a taped-up key behind them.

You meticulously inspect each picture frame in the library, your eyes scanning for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed keys. You check portrait after portrait, your fingers tracing along the edges of each frame, but your efforts yield no results. Disappointment threatens to overwhelm you as you realise that your search has so far been fruitless.

Why is this proving to be so difficult? Surely there has to be something you can scope out, even a bobby pin would suffice at this point so you can pick at the locks.

Just as you're about to give up hope, your eyes fall upon an unusual floor-length portrait hanging inconspicuously on the far wall. It depicts the bizarre scene of a lamb with a human body, eating its sheep counterparts. It’s an unsettling fusion of outlandish and grotesque. You can't help but grimace at the tasteless decor choice, wondering what possessed Soonyeol to hang such a peculiar painting in her library. 

“Seriously? She is one fucked up lady,” you wince to yourself, wondering why she couldn’t just have a poster of some kittens or literally anything else.

Despite your feelings of unease, curiosity overcomes you, and you move forward to inspect the painting more closely. As you reach out to touch the frame, your fingers brush over the edge, and you notice that it seems there is a gap between it and the wall, as if there is something hidden behind it.

With your heart pumping from anticipation, you carefully pull the picture from the wall, exposing a dark wooden door that is concealed behind it. Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that this may be the breakthrough you've been waiting for. With shaky hands, you reach for the rusted doorknob and give it a cautious jiggle.

But just like the locked drawers, the door remains firmly sealed shut, thwarting your attempts to uncover its secrets. You groan out loud, tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in frustration. 

"What has a girl gotta do to find out what the fuck is going on in this place?" you mutter under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration and determination. You refuse to be deterred by this setback, knowing that you're not one to give up easily.

Gathering your resolve, you kneel down to inspect the door handle, your fingers tracing the contours of the keyhole with a sense of anticipation. You can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, the tension in the air palpable as you prepare to uncover whatever secrets lie beyond this enigmatic door.

As you peer inside the keyhole, your breath catches in your throat, your eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that shrouds the room. Every fibre of your being is on high alert, a sense of anticipation tingling at the back of your mind. 

But then, just as you begin to make out the faintest hint of movement within the darkness, something catches your eye - a faint glimmer of red light flickering like a flame from within the depths of the keyhole. Your heart skips a beat as a surge of apprehension courses through you, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip on your chest. 

What is that? 

Your heartbeat quickens as you realise whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s trapped behind that door for a reason. You squint your eyes further, trying to focus on the faint shapes you can see throughout the room but it’s proving difficult, the red beam being your only sense of light.

Time appears to slow to a crawl as you watch the red light pulse and flutter, its intensity increasing with each passing moment. Your palms go sweaty in anticipation, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on edge as you brace yourself to find out what is behind the door.

Then, without warning, just as you go to reach for the handle once again, the red light bursts brightly, obscuring your eyes. With a startled scream, you stagger backwards and deck onto the hardwood floor, your heart beating as adrenaline rushes through your veins. The room swirls around you as you try to regain some form of direction, your senses overwhelmed by the abrupt blast of light and the overpowering feeling of dread that persists in the air.

“Fuck!” you manage to yell out and as your senses slowly return, you find yourself gasping for breath, the remnants of the red flame still burning brightly in your vision, creating white spots behind your eyelids. With trembling hands, you reach out to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as your blood pumps nervously through your veins.

In a daze, you glance to your right, your gaze falls upon the portrait you had removed from the wall and it's changed - it is now portraying a human head with a sheeps body, eating it's mesty carcass, blood smeared over it's mouth and wool.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you quickly rush to replace it, your hands shaking as you fumble with the frame. Your heart feels as though it's about to burst from your chest as you struggle to hang the painting back in its rightful place.

Finally, with the portrait back on the wall, you step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to steady your racing heart and swallow the sick that rose from the pit of your stomach out of fear. 

But as you turn around, your heart jolts to a panicked stop in your chest as a new wave of terror washes over you. Sitting there, in the corner of the room where there was nothing before, is one of the dolls - Park Sunghoon, motionless and silent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are the last thing I need right now,” you say in frustration, pinching your eyes to extract the last few spots from your vision. It’s bad enough that you’ve just been blinded by god knows what, and now you’re being startled by Sunghoon’s sudden appearance.

Breathing out, you compose yourself and nod, “Okay, so I won’t be going near that door again,” you swallow thickly, trying to inject a laugh to lighten your heavy heart. Scouring around in Soonyeol’s drawers was one thing but you would rather be massacred by a hatchet at the hands of dear Sunghoon over there than find out whatever the fuck is behind that door.

As you regain your composure, a manic laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervous energy and relief bubbling to the surface. Sunghoon remains motionless, his expression unchanged, as if unaffected by the chaos unfolding around him.

You approach him with a mixture of curiosity, noticing the pair of frameless glasses perched on his face. It's a strange sight as you certainly didn’t put them on him this morning because why on earth would a doll need reading glasses?

"A fashion statement?" you quip, tapping the side of the lenses lightly. The failed joke eases some of the tension that still lingers in the air, and you find yourself chuckling softly as you take a seat on the table beside him.

Leaning in close, you lift Sunghoon's chin to meet your gaze, studying his features with fascination and admiration. Despite the unsettling circumstances, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of solace that washes over you as you take in his ethereal beauty.

His hair falls in soft waves around his face, his bangs framing his eyes in the most captivating way. His features are striking, from the delicate freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks to the sharp line of his jaw. Sunghoon's beauty is almost otherworldly, captivating you in a way that you can't quite explain.

"You'll protect me from whatever is in there, right?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood but Sunghoon sits mute and unmoving. You ponder if staying still like that hurts them or is uncomfortable; does it just come naturally? There are so many questions but after that ordeal, you’ll give up on prying for now.

You pat Sunghoon's cheek softly, smiling down at him before deciding to press on with your chores, hoping that the mundane tasks will help ease some of the weight from your shoulders and restore a sense of normalcy to your day.

With careful hands, you adjust Sunghoon's head to stare forward once more, a futile attempt to spare him any unnecessary discomfort - although you can't help but wonder if he's even capable of feeling pain. Setting him back in place, you make your way to the desk and retrieve your duster, ready to resume your duties.

Focusing your attention on the far side of the room, away from the ominous door, you begin to polish the ancient globe that sits near the entranceway. 

Spinning it idly, you sigh and think about all the places you want to see before you die. You’ve been stuck in this city your whole life only going as far as hopping from city to city and you are in dire need of some vacation time. Maybe it’s the red light that almost blinded you, but you’ve never felt more of an urge to pack up and go.

Maybe it’s just this place you need to get away from. 

But you’re stuck, something is keeping you here. Any normal person who saw what was behind that door would have run for the hills and never looked back, yet, despite the fear in your body that lingers deep inside, you don’t want to leave.

You’ve said this whole time it’s for the money but you could find work somewhere else, a job that wouldn’t give you chills in your bones. 

Once you’ve settled your nerves fully, you want to keep investigating this place and find out why Jaeyun and the other dolls are alive, and unfortunately for you, you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever is behind that door might just hold your answers. 

As you continue to clean, your eye is pulled to an object perched on one of the shelves: an old camera. Intrigued, you approach it, admiring its appearance with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. The camera's folding body, made of worn leather, emanates timeless beauty and carved nameplates on the side hint at its extensive past.

Upon closer inspection, you recognise it as a model from the 1940s or 1950s, similar to the Agifold your grandmother used to own. Memories of her beloved camera fill your thoughts, followed by a twinge of regret that you never got the opportunity to use it yourself. But now, with no one to stop you, an opportunity presents itself.

Gently, you pick it up and inspect it further, opening the back to see some film still lodged inside. You gently pick up the camera, its weight cooling in your hands. Opening the back panel, you uncover a roll of film that is still wedged inside.

Raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus and squint, searching for the perfect angle to capture the essence of the room. With a steady hand, you press the shutter button, the satisfying click echoing in the silence of the room.

Flash.

As you lower the camera from your eye, a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your lips. But as your gaze sweeps across the room, a chill creeps down your spine, and the smile freezes on your face.

Something is…different.

You scour the room, your eyes darting from one corner to the next in an attempt to discern what has changed so abruptly. It feels as though the world shifted in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented and on edge. The familiar sights of the room offer little solace as you search for any sign of what could have caused the sudden disturbance.

The painting of the sheep still hangs on the wall, which means the door remains shut - good. The books on the shelves remain undisturbed, their spines aligned in neat rows. The windows are shut tight, allowing only a faint breeze to filter through the cracks in the draught. Everything appears to be as it was before, except for one glaring absence.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that the lifelike doll is no longer within your line of sight. He has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an eerie emptiness in his wake.

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of his disappearance. Despite Jaeyun's assurances that his brothers are harmless, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that settles over you like a heavy fog. Even though Jaeyun is kind to you, the others may not share his benevolence. In a house filled with secrets and shadows, trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the slightest whisper of doubt. 

“You shouldn’t go around touching things that aren’t yours,” a hushed voice flows from behind you, taking advantage of your transfixed body to reach around your waist and take the camera from your trembling hands.

As he lets out a chuckle, Sunghoon moves around you with grace, returning the camera to its rightful place on the shelf. His towering presence now looms over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole.

Yet, you don’t feel threatened like you thought you would, somehow it was his lack of presence that put you on edge but now that he is standing before you, you know deep down you are in no harm. Your body relaxes a little, your spine finding its strength again as you straighten your posture.

Your movements amuse Sunghoon, his tongue running along his prominent canine as he smirks, “You don’t seem surprised?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows you must have already been in on their secret, “So was it Jaeyun? Did he spill like we thought he would?”

Jaeyun’s saddened face pops up into your head after your first time with him, begging you not to tell the others as they already see him as incompetent. The memory tickles your heart and you start to shake your head definitively, “No, I am shocked, look!” you say, bringing up your shaky hands to his eye level, a feeble attempt to convince Sunghoon.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you question how I moved from my bedroom to the library without you carting me around in that fuck awful wheelchair?” Sunghoon queries, raising his eyebrow in mock suspicion. He knows you know, he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

“No, I…I just thought…I was…”

“You are a terrible liar, Y/N,” he scoffs out an endeared laugh and pushes your hand away from his face, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as Sunghoon’s stare holds you captive, those beautiful glass eyes slowly dissolving your loyalty to Jaeyun. You are trying so hard to come up with an excuse as to how you know their secret but the doll before you is so alluring in his beauty that your brain might as well be replaced with a tin of mushy peas.

He licks his bottom lip and starts to laugh as your silence becomes his confirmation. 

“Shit,” you huff out, looking down, feeling bad for betraying Jaeyun like this. One tiny secret was all you had to keep and you’ve given it up without even uttering a word. Fuck these dolls and their power over your resolve.

Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “He really can’t keep his mouth shut,” he says to himself quietly, astonished that he even had any faith in the yapping puppy to begin with.

Your back goes up, eyebrows knitting together, “Hey! Don’t blame him like that,” you say defensively.

He halts his laughter and slowly looks at you, tilting his head, “Oh?...oh…” he mutters, a wide smile of bewilderment appearing on his face as he starts to piece you and Jaeyun’s relationship together, “How on earth did he manage to pull you? Did he give you a bat of his lashes and that signature pout? Did he make his eyes do that stupid sparkle? Hmm?”

You're taken aback by Sunghoon's accurate description, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring your expression. How did he know exactly what Jaeyun had done to win you over? Does Jaeyun do this with every housesitter?

Sunghoon watches your reaction with amusement, his grin widening as he sees the realisation dawn on you. "Ah, I see it now," he says, his voice tinged with playful mockery, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? You know, he isn’t as innocent as he looks, he knows what he is doing."

You shift from one foot to another, looking down at your hands. It’s embarrassing for any woman to be hit with the truck of truth, especially when it’s about succumbing to a man, but a doll? That’s even more humbling. 

Lifting your chin, he gives you a smug smile as he sees inside your mind, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed, baby girl, Soonyeol is the same. She loves it - to look after him, coddle him whenever he wants, and give him kisses in passing,”  he leans down to make direct eye contact with you, a flash of something behind his iris’ brings you to attention as he continues, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, that you have fun?”

You feel yourself nodding because he’s right. Inside of yourself, you knew Jaeyun was luring you into bed but you wanted it just as much as him, so did you really get played? And you enjoy his company, his constant telling of stories and his high energy, you’ve grown to cherish him with each passing conversation. 

Sunghoon observes the gears turning in your mind. "Can I tell you something?" he asks, his lips whispering over your cheek. You nod, permitting him to continue, your eyes fixed on his as he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "He's been unusually happy since you arrived," he murmurs softly, "I think you might be his new favourite person."

His admission causes a warm flush to spread across your cheeks, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding your senses. Knowing that Jaeyun feels a similar connection to you fills you with a sense of happiness and validation. You can envision Jaeyun becoming a lifelong friend, someone you cherish deeply.

While his initial intent might have been to charm you into fucking him, the time you've spent together since then feels genuine and sincere. You take comfort in knowing that Jaeyun values your companionship and enjoys your presence for more than just physical intimacy.

Sunghoon inhales sharply through his teeth, a disapproving tsk escaping him, "I don't think Soonyeol would be too pleased about that," he remarks, pulling back slightly as if considering the ramifications. "After all, Jaeyun is her favourite, and if she were to discover you've been fucking her precious little puppy..."

Your eyes widen in alarm as you grasp the implication of his words, shaking your head frantically as you instinctively raise your hands in a defensive gesture, "No, no, no, you can't tell her!" you exclaim, your voice tinged with desperation. You find yourself on the verge of pleading, almost dropping to your knees in a last-ditch effort to appeal to Sunghoon's mercy, "I need this job," you implore, your voice trembling with anxiety.

Sunghoon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he watches your panic-stricken reaction. "Well, I suppose I could keep my mouth shut..." he muses, drawing out the suspense and relishing in your apprehension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hang on to his words, hope flickering within you at the possibility of him relenting. But just as quickly as your hope appears, it’s gone as you see the dark shimmer in his eyes behind his glasses, the way his tongue is sitting on the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

“You can’t be serious? You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?” you retort, the revulsion evident in your tone.

"I'm not a creep, Y/N, I wouldn't do that," Sunghoon responds, a hint of offence lacing his words. As you meet his gaze, you feel a pang of regret for assuming the worst about him. But he lowers his voice, his eyes hooded as they lock onto yours. "I'd only fuck you if you wanted me to," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, a nervous habit forming as you bite your lip.

Sunghoon's hands find their way to your waist, drawing you closer until he’s pressed firmly against you. His nearness is intoxicating, and you can't help but tip-toe to etch closer to his face, craving more of his presence. His lips hover tantalisingly close to yours, teasing you with the promise of something more.

"Oh? Would you like that?" he asks smugly, his grip on your waist tightening as he effortlessly makes you melt under his touch, succumbing to him like putty in his hands. It's crazy how much power these dolls possess over you, their allure is irresistible and their influence undeniable.

His smug expression only adds to the internal chaos, making you feel both irritated and strangely drawn to him. You want this more than you would like to admit, perhaps it was the comfort he was bringing to you after your ordeal with the door, or maybe it’s because you’re an idiot that simply wants to fuck him.

Sometimes there is no other reason than pure lust.

Sunghoon's grin widens as he sees you surrender to him, his fingers dancing on your waist as he leans in even closer, closing the already minimal gap between your lips and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips brush against yours in a teasingly soft caress. It's a fleeting touch, but it ignites a fire within you, awakening something.

You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are in this moment, how easily Sunghoon has managed to unravel your defences and ensnare you in his web of temptation. He is doing exactly what Jaeyun did to you last week, and just the same, you’re letting him because you want it.

"Tell me to stop," Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. His hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the contours of your sides with a feather-light touch that sends tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

It's a cruel temptation, the way he places the power in your hands, knowing full well that you won't utter that simple word; not when every caress feels like fire against your shivering skin.

Instead, you close the gap, your mouth melding against his as your once shaky hands now thread through his hair, pulling him further into you. You can feel his victorious smile against your lips as he guides you to sit on the very desk you were snooping around earlier, pressing your ass against the edge.

He briskly undoes your jean buttons, his lips planting one long kiss on yours before he sinks past your tits and stomach until he is on his knees in front of your pussy. Teasingly, he pulls down your bottoms, slowly but surely exposing your dampened core to him.

“There you are,” he mutters, placing a gentle peck on your pubic bone, his lips lingering there as he savours the moment. He looks up at you behind his glasses and smirks as he sees your chest rising and falling in anticipation, “I’ll make sure you feel good, baby girl, don’t worry.”

His smirk widens as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he trails kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, calculated to elicit a response from you, and you can't help but arch your back in anticipation, silently urging him to continue.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sunghoon grants your unspoken desires, his tongue delicately tracing the beginning of your slit. He flattens it against your tender flesh, savouring the taste of you as he lingers there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of your essence. 

You grind your hips onto his face and before you know it, you’re riding his face, using your hips to move your clit along his rigid tongue. Your fingers desperately seek to find refuge on a surface to steady you, which they find in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp to help anchor you.

Sunghoon is loving it as much as you are, the smile on his face is a testament to this. He pries your legs further apart to sink his mouth further into your heat, the tip of his wet muscle now working in tandem with your hips to help you out.

"F-fuck," you moan breathlessly, your body arching instinctively towards him as he spreads your folds between the fingers of his right hand. Anticipation courses through your veins as he teases you with soft, long licks, each stroke of his tongue sending waves cascading through your body.

You're consumed by both pleasure and longing, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every lingering, deliberate swipe of his tongue against your clit makes it throb with need, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, yearning for more.

You want him to go faster, to get you to the edge quickly so he can fuck you against this desk, but at the same time, you're intoxicated by the slow, deliberate pace of his movements. He’s so good at this it’s almost awe-inspiring. 

Sunghoon's long fingers stroke up and down your folds with a delicate touch, savouring the sight of you spread open before him. But he needs more, he wants to see you completely exposed and at his mercy. With a determined gaze, he shifts your legs over his shoulders, positioning you firmly on the edge of the wooden desk.

"Your pussy is the closest to heaven I'll ever get," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your needy expression. Your whimper for attention to your clit only fuels his desire further, "I want to make you beg so bad, baby girl," he adds, his voice dripping with need, "but I don't want to wait to see what it feels like to have you cumming on my tongue."

The plea escapes your lips before you can stop it, your desire overriding any sense of restraint, "Please, Sunghoon," you moan, your hips instinctively thrusting towards him, begging for his touch.

He can't resist the temptation any longer. With a hunger that borders on desperation, Sunghoon spreads your folds open once again, his gaze fixated on you in this new position. He licks his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening wetness.

His tongue flicks over your hood, teasing your clit with quick, back-and-forth strokes that send electric shocks through your veins. You writhe beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch as he expertly pushes you to the edge. 

Sunghoon’s glasses steam up as he switches between licking and sucking your clit, drawing out moans of pleasure from both of you. There is nothing he loves more than eating pussy, the feeling of someone’s sweetness on his tongue is the best feeling he’ll ever know, he could spend hours just worshipping each and every cunt on the planet.

But he knew from the moment you walked in, that he had to have just one taste of you.

“Sunghoon, fuck,” you moan through bated breaths, holding his head hostage between your legs - not that he minds, the desperation your exhibiting only heightens his desire to consume every part of you, to make you unravel under his touch.

Your back presses against the desk, the crumpled documents from Soonyeol's work forgotten beneath your squirming body. In this moment, nothing matters except the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

Sensing that you're on the brink of orgasm, Sunghoon dips two of his fingers into your warm, inviting heat, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, Sunghoon, yes," you scream, your voice filled with desperation and hunger as his fingers join his mouth to drive you wild. You're teetering on the verge of bliss, your body twitching with anticipation as he deftly guides you to the peaks of pleasure.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let go for me..."

As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, you cry out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Sunghoon watches you with a satisfied smile, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes. His fingers never let up, continuing to pump in and out of you as your climax washes over you, coating his hand and even spurting onto his face.

Standing up, Sunghoon keeps his digits buried deep inside you, still wriggling them around as he leans over your spent body on the desk. "If this is you with just my mouth and fingers," he says, pausing to give you a sweet kiss, "then just imagine you on my cock."

His words send a shiver of want down your spine, and you can't help but imagine the feeling of him buried deep inside you, filling you completely. The thought alone is enough to reignite the fire of desire within you, and you find yourself yearning for more of him, for the pleasure only he can provide.

Withdrawing his fingers from you, he brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your cum. The sight has you gasping, wishing his mouth was back on you, using that tongue just one more time. Sunghoon sees the need in your eyes and smiles cockily.

"You want a taste?" he asks, already offering his fingers to your parted lips. You eagerly accept, sucking and licking them clean, savouring the lingering taste of yourself on his skin. "You taste unreal, right?" he remarks, his voice husky with desire.

You nod, popping your mouth off his fingers, "How can you taste me if you've got no taste buds?" you ask, genuinely curious. There's still so much you don't know about these dolls, and each revelation only adds to your intrigue.

"Ah, we're all different makes. Some have functions others don't," Sunghoon explains as he begins to undress, leaving him in only his boxers and glasses.

"So you can taste? What can the others do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

"You bored of me already, baby girl?" he teases, deflecting your question with a smirk. His hands grip the bottom of your t-shirt, and with a swift motion, he lifts it over your head, leaving you exposed and vulnerable on the desk, "The real question you should be asking is what else I can do."

You lie naked before him, anticipation palpable in your expression as you look him up and down, suddenly intrigued by the possibilities. "What can you do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, eager to discover the depths of pleasure he can offer.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

He pushes his boxers down, revealing his throbbing arousal. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, his length throbbing in his hands. Each time he pumps, the pulsing of the fake veins quickens. He presses his cock against your folds and you feel the pulse.

"Do you feel it?" Sunghoon asks, already knowing the answer as he watches you involuntarily move your hips, seeking more of the delicious friction his cock provides.

You nod eagerly, your desire mounting with each passing moment. The anticipation of what's to come sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you can't help but yearn for more of him.

You understand Soonyeol a lot more now.

Slowly, Sunghoon guides himself to your entrance to let you feel the throbbing more intensely as he begins to push inside you. The sensation is electrifying, sending your body into a flush as he fills you completely with his length.

Imagine if every man possessed this kind of touch; maybe, just maybe, there'd be less reason to complain. It's like slipping into a dream, feeling his hands explore every inch of you as he eases into a gentle rhythm of thrusting.

You find yourself lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His movements synchronise with the rhythm of your heartbeat, building a crescendo of desire.

You can't help but draw comparisons to Jaeyun, though you don't mean to. Their approaches to pleasing you are starkly different. Jaeyun is fervent and eager, consumed by his own need for you. His passion is raw and primal, leaving you breathless and craving more, even as you revel in the intensity of his desire.

In contrast, Sunghoon's touch is confident and measured. Each thrust is a masterpiece of skill and intention, as if his sole purpose is to ensure you experience the pinnacle of pleasure. There's a depth to his movements, leaving you utterly captivated by the artistry of his fucking. He was born to do this.

Once he senses your body yielding to him, growing accustomed to the girth of his cock, he presses his hand firmly against your lower stomach, anchoring you to the desk as he intensifies his rhythm. His muscles tense with each powerful thrust, driving deeper into you with a primal urgency.

"God, you're tight," he remarks, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, "Are you sure Jaeyun's been fucking you?" he teases, his voice laced with playful arrogance as he revels in the control he holds over your pleasure.

As Sunghoon's words cut through the haze of pleasure, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite the lust coursing through you, his casual dismissal of Jaeyun stirs conflicting emotions within you. Jaeyun may not be perfect, but he holds a place in your heart that you can't deny.

"I... I don't like when you talk about him like that," you manage to say between breaths, your voice wavering slightly. 

But that only makes him pound into you deeper as you cry out. Your hands reach for his arm as you grip it tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucks you with an intensity like never before.

Sunghoon's response is a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he drives into you with an almost punishing force, "You don't want me talking about your little puppy?" he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of lust and disdain. The sound of the drawers rattling beneath you only adds to the chaotic symphony of pleasure and pain enveloping you.

Your head swims with conflicting desires, torn between the familiar comfort of Jaeyun's touch and the intoxicating thrill of Sunghoon's dominance. And as his thumb finds its way to your clit, sending bolts of ecstasy shooting through your body, you can't help but succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, surrendering yourself completely to the man who's determined to claim you as his own.

"I hit a nerve, huh?" Sunghoon's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and triumph lacing his words as he continues to tease your sensitive clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You try to form a coherent response, but all that escapes your lips are desperate moans and gasps as Sunghoon's relentless assault pushes you closer to the edge. Sensations overwhelm your senses, leaving you trembling and breathless in his grasp.

"What's the matter, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice drips with mock concern, his tone betraying his underlying satisfaction, "Did I touch a sore spot because you know I’m right? That pup could never fuck you this good, just admit it." His thumb circles your clit once more, sending a bolt of lightning up your body.

You bite back a whimper, your mind clouded with a mixture of arousal and frustration. The realisation dawns on you that you're caught in the middle of a rivalry, a competition between two men, each determined to outdo the other.

But amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, one thing becomes clear - in this moment, there is only Sunghoon, his touch, his dominance, consuming you completely.

As Sunghoon redoubles his efforts, fucking into you so good you think you might struggle to walk for a week, you find yourself surrendering to him; but as long as you’re getting fucked like this, who cares?

"Sunghoon," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice pleading yet smothered with arousal, "Please..."

He pauses, his movements slowing as he looks down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Please what, Y/N?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement, "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically, unable to form a coherent response, "No," you whimper, your fingers clutching at the edge of the desk for support, "Fuck...don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon's face as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "That's what I thought, baby girl.” He kisses you messily, his fingers circling your sensitive bud as he continues his pace.

Sunghoon's eyes latch on yours, a knowing grin on his lips as he awaits your release. The air crackles with eagerness, "You're almost there, aren't you, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice is deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his words stoke the fire inside you, "Just a little more..."

His words propel you over the brink, sending you spinning into oblivion as waves of ecstasy rush over you. You yell out his name, your body quivering with the intensity of your release as you surrender totally to the euphoria surging through you.

Sunghoon stares at you with dark, hungry eyes, his own release near as he continues to push into you with unwavering passion. He turns his thrusts from rapid to sharp, the vibration excruciating with each punch of the tip of his cock to your linings. He is so smug as you knock the lamp off the table by accident, too busy trying to escape the overstimulation you’re pussy is experiencing, but he holds you still.

"Give me just one more minute, baby girl, you can handle it, right?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire, eliciting a groan from you. He's moving with the intensity of an animal, overwhelming yet fucking satisfying.

His glasses teeter on the edge of his nose, moving by the force of his thrusts. With a swift motion, you snatch them from his face, placing them on your own and viewing him through a new lens. He's breathtakingly beautiful, with or without the glasses, but especially in this moment.

"Please, Hoonie, cum inside me," you plead, pushing the glasses to the tip of your nose. As Sunghoon takes in the sight of you, combined with your newfound nickname for him, he loses all semblance of control.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his release coating your insides as some spills onto the desk below. The vibrations from his cock cease, and he remains still inside you, his face buried in your neck as he trembles with the intensity of his climax.

Sunghoon's trembling subsides as he lifts his head from your neck, his eyes locking with yours in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, "You're incredible, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence, “I can’t let him have you to himself,” he admits, a smirk playing on his face.

You return his smile, your chest still heaving and your body buzzing with the aftermath of your shared passion. "He did mention that Soonyeol shares you all," you point out, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunghoon nods, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of damp hair away from your face. "True, but she doesn't exactly fuck us every day," he confesses, his voice low and husky with desire, mischief evident in his expression.

"We don't have to..." you begin, but Sunghoon cuts you off with a determined look.

"You're fucking mad if you think for a second I'm going to let any opportunity to have you slip away," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll take you whenever and wherever I can, Y/N. That's a promise."

“Am I going to have to sort out a rota?” you joke, giggling as you begin to sit up, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop.

Taking a tissue from the box laid on the desk, he wipes you down, something Jaeyun doesn’t do at all. But Jaeyun does cuddle which is something you can’t imagine Sunghoon doing. 

As he tosses the tissue into the waste basket and begins to get dressed, you watch him with a mixture of affection and anticipation. "Put me on the first shift tomorrow, yeah?" he requests, his voice tinged with eagerness.

You nod with a smile, already looking forward to the next time you'll be together. "Consider it done," you agree, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

You hop off the desk and begin to put your clothes back on, satisfaction courses through your body, yet your mind remains unsettled. There’s one lingering question you hope Sunghoon can answer before he retreats back to his room.

“Hey, Hoonie?” you shout before he reaches the door to exit. He turns around and looks at you expectantly, “What’s behind that door?” It’s a loaded question but one you need answers. No amount of fucking can make you forget that spine-curling red light.

Sunghoon sighs, his steps retracing back to where you stand, his hands reaching for your face. You wonder what he's up to until you feel him peel off his glasses, giving them a quick clean before settling them back on his nose.

“Do me a favour?” he asks, his tone carrying a weight you can't ignore. You nod, hoping he'll grant your request for insight into the mystery beyond that door.

“I won’t tell Soonyeol about you fucking us if you agree to stop sticking your nose into matters that don't concern you, understood?” his words sting, his stare unwavering as he awaits your response. Whatever lies behind that door is a sensitive topic, only fueling your curiosity further.

There’s no denying you need this job though, so with a reluctant sigh, you nod in agreement, accepting the terms of his proposal, "Okay, Hoonie," you concede, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders, "You have a deal."

Sunghoon's lips curve into a small smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his eyes. "Good," he replies, his voice softening with approval. "Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? Jaeyun doesn’t even know and if Heeseung catches a whiff that you know about that thing, he will kill you before you can even attempt to find a key.”

His warning sits like vomit in your throat at the mention of Heeseung, the most mysterious one of them all. You don’t know enough about the cherry-haired doll to debunk whether Sunghoon is joking or not.

You offer him a solemn nod, a silent promise to uphold your end of the bargain. But what he doesn’t know is that as he leaves, you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

To Call You Mine

Chapter 11

Authors note: don't ask me how you'd determine a babys birth gender in an Omegaverse, just pretend with me lmao

Word count: 1564

Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist TCYM Masterlist

4 months

   You lazily stretch as you sit up in the nest, trying your best to not wake the sleeping Omega by your side just yet. One free from your still slumbering mates hold, you tiptoe off to the bathroom to take care of your business before you head to make breakfast.

   Now in the kitchen, you pull a package of bacon and the carton of eggs out of the fridge and bring them over to the counter next to the stove. You grab a couple of pans and turn on the burners, waiting for them to warm up before you lay a few slices of meat in one and crack a few eggs in the other. You add a pinch of spices and some minced veggies to them before mixing up the yolks and whites, getting everything well and scrambled as they cook.

   The delicious aromas make their way back to the bedroom, which causes Natasha to stir from her slumber. She groggily blinks away the remainder of sleep before checking in on Dima on the monitor. Satisfied that he's still asleep she tosses her blanket aside and makes her way to the kitchen.

   A smile spreads across her face as she sees you at the stove, cooking a meal for your family. Getting to witness and experience what she never thought she’d get with you, always elicits a warmth within her, like all the love and safety you've ever shown her has just made a home there within her. And she really hopes that never goes away. A meow pulls her from her thoughts and she stifles a giggle when she sees the small black furball pawing at your ankle, looking up at you as if she’d not had a meal all month.

   “Don’t give me that look, little miss” you coo at her, though all it gets you is another pitiful meow, “Oh fine, even though you don’t need it, I can’t say no when you look at me like that.”

   Liho patiently waits as you cut up a small piece of bacon for her, and you can’t believe how the feline has both you and Nat wrapped around her paw already. If this is how bad you both are with a cat, you worry what it'll be like once the pups are all talking properly. They're all going to be so spoiled, not that you truly minded. Afterall, you’d have spoiled Natasha much more than you already had if it didn’t surpass her comfort levels. 

   “Here, eat up you little menace” you tell her, placing the bacon in front of her before patting her head

   “That better not be my bacon you just gave away”

   You turn around and smile at your adorable Omega, who still has sleep tousled hair, “I don’t have a death wish, baby. I know not to touch your bacon”

   “Good” she affirms, but the smile on her lips confirms she's only teasing, “I wouldn’t want you to have to sleep on the couch”

   You laugh, “Wow, not only banned from the nest, but the bed too”

   She shrugs, “I take my bacon very seriously” 

   “You know what I take seriously?” you ask, not waiting for a reply, “My morning kisses”

   She smiles and shakes her head at your antics, but doesn’t hesitate to step forward into your awaiting arms. Your hands rest on her hips protectively as she leans forward to connect her lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

   “Better?” she teases, pulling back from you slightly

   You lean in to peck her lips a second time, “Now it is”

   A cute blush settles across her cheeks and she decides she wants to distract you so you don’t comment on it, “Are you excited for today?”

   “Of course I am!” you reply, eyes lighting up as you look at her, “I can’t wait to see how many you're carrying! And so long as they're healthy, I’ll be happy!”

  Nats smile widens almost impossibly. Bruce hadn’t cared one way or the other how many she was with, all he cared about was the fact that he had succeeded in getting her knocked up after how much resistance she had given him. And he was also adamant that it had better be a son. He needed to have one so badly that she was actually scared of what he'd do if she ended up having just a girl. But thankfully the universe had been kind enough to appease him, and now it had finally been kind to her.

    “What about you, detka(baby)?”

   Your voice brings her back to the present and she nods, “I am too, and as much as I’ll love them regardless, I really do want a little girl”

   You adoringly watch on as she brings a hand up to caress her bump, and you know then that if you haven’t been successful with getting a girl this time, you would happily try again and again if necessary.

   “3 o'clock really can’t come soon enough”

   She chuckles, “I was just thinking the same thing. But let's eat breakfast and maybe time will pass by a bit quicker once I get Dima up”

   Time does indeed move faster once your pup is awake and fed, and before you even know it you and your mate are greeting Yelena at the door. You exchange quick pleasantries with her as well as thanking her for coming over to watch her nephew. She of course only waves you off

   “It's no trouble. He is my nephew afterall. Besides, he and I get along like a house on fire!”

   Nat turns her gaze away from her sister beaming smile and to you, “That's what worries me”

   Yelena pouts a bit, obviously having heard but she remains quiet, at a loss for what to say just yet. And you shrug, “I think it's safe enough for now. When he gets older though and can walk and talk properly, we may have a problem then” 

   “Hey! I am right here!” the blonde speaks up with a dramatic flair of her hands

   You and your mate both chuckle, and your Omega moves to embrace her sister once more, “And we thank you so much for being her and being the brunt of our jokes.”

   “Yeah yeah” she mumbles, hugging Nat back regardless, “Now go on, I know how excited you both are so stop tormenting me and get to your appointment”

   Your Omega eagerly nods and removes herself to say another quick goodbye to Dima which you join her in. As the two of you went to the garage you can hear the Beta call out, “I expect a phone call as soon as you leave the doctors!”

   You chuckle at how excited she is, knowing you both feel the same way, “We’ll call you!”

   Once at the doctor's office the two of you can hardly contain your excitement. Sitting next to you, Natasha is practically vibrating. If someone didn’t know better they'd think she was overly jittery due to too many cups of coffee. But you knew that wasn’t the case, and so her actions were quite adorable.

   You were about to offer up some words to help ease her nerves and calm her a bit, but before you get the chance a nurse opens the door to the waiting room and calls her name. The two of you follow her back down the hallway until you get to the room she's chosen for you both. She takes your Omegas blood pressure and listens to her heart beat before helping her get settled on the bed. She gets the ultrasound machine ready and then leaves to get the doctor.

   “You okay, Omega?” you ask, reaching out to grab her hand

   She nods, “Just a little nervous. I don’t want anything to be wrong”

   “I know detka(baby)” you offer her a reassuring smile, “Just remember that I’m right here”

   She nods just as the doctor enters. She exchanges greetings with the two of you before getting settled at the ultrasound machine. She lifts up your mate's shirt and slides her pants waistband down a bit to fully expose her bump, followed by her squeezing some of the cold gel onto her skin there. Natasha shudders a bit at its temperature and the doctor apologizes. She slowly moves the wand around while studying the screen in front of her. Though you know it's less than a minute, it feels like she's silent for an hour before she finally speaks

   “Everything is looking really good. Both mom and pups look healthy”

   “Pups?” Nats asks, her eyes lighting up as she smiles at you

   The doctor smiles and turns the screen towards the two of you and you both watch as a fuzzy black and white image takes shape, “Right there you can see them both”

    Natashas eyes begin to water as she sees the pups outlines, “We’re having twins, Alpha”

  “Yeah we are” you respond, a few tears of your own building, “Can you tell what they are?”

   The doctor looks back at the screen for a few moments before answering, “Congrats, looks like you're having two little girls”

   Natashas hand tightens its grip on yours and you offer her a brilliant smile, “Hear that Omega? Girls.”

   She matches your smile with one of her own, “I can’t wait to tell Yelena”

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[abouttofillhisshoes]

Blurbs you say?? I am thinking thoughts… about matty’s dick in my mouth while he smokes a cigarette <3

This #unedited and sort of shit, but i promised myself to not to obsess over it too much. also i cant not post without a fancy title and banner bc im allergic soz xx

Go down - Matty Healy

A/N: im shit at blurbs, minors do not interact

wc: 1.5k

-

The door shuts with a loud bang, Mattys footsteps echoing through the foyer. Ridding himself of his jacket, chucking it onto the couch, he sits down next to it, an exasperated groan leaving his lips. His voice was sore, raspy from tonight's gig. Sold out, ten thousand people, all screaming the house down as Matty sang his heart out. Fans went wild as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, leaving all but one buttoned unfastened.

It still was, the fabric now wrinkled and slightly damp from the sweat, clinging to his body. It took everything in you to not jump onto him right at that moment, take him then and there. No, he was tired, eyes shutting as he rolled his head back, resting it onto the edge of the sofa. His voice was low as he spoke. 

“Darling?” you hum in acknowledgement, peeking your head around the corner, still trying to tow your shoes off. He waits for you to actually enter the room, a rough hand running through his gelled hair, tucking some of it behind his ear. 

“Could you pour me some wine?” Despite having been drinking the entire set, Matty always liked a healthy glass of wine when he got home, exhausted and missing your presence. Usually, you would take the time to talk about the show, what the stagehands had fucked up this time et cetera, et cetera. This time, however, you had other things on your mind, and, based on the way his eyes dragged up and down your body as you walked by, he did as well. 

You grab two glasses from the marble cupboard, setting them onto the counter. Pouring both of you a generous amount, you check yourself in the reflection of the microwave. Your hair was a bit messy, and your mascara was slightly smudged from dancing, but it didn't bother you.

“Thank you, love.” a grateful look spreads onto his face as he takes a glass from you, smiling. You place a chaste kiss on his lips, wiping a bit of dirt off his face with your free hand. Before you could even move to sit down, his hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you into an awkward kneeling position between his legs, the edge of the sofa digging into your knees. He kisses you like this, setting both your glasses onto a small table, freeing up both hands.

You shift, using his shoulders for leverage, lowering your body onto the floor in front of him. 

“What are you up to, mh?” he asks, his filthy smirk making your head spin. 

“Could ask you the same thing, undressing in front of an audience.” you mention his little display, thrusting up into air as he danced around, the screams of the crowd only spurring him on. He pretends to look offended, shaking his head in protest.

“It's art.” 

“It's insanely hot, is what it is.” you grin, hands settling right onto his belt. 

His breath hitches, breathing pattern slightly irregular as you look up at him through your eyelashes, blinking innocently. 

A quiet “Oh, fuck me.” leaves his lips, and he coughs, trying to remain composed. That proves more difficult than he thought, especially with you looking at him like that.

“Can I?” you ask, voice dripping like honey. The look on his face when you let things drag on like this was delicious, eyes drooping shut as he groaned your name. 

“Shoot me if i ever say no to that question, fucking hell.” That's all you need, your hands making quick work of the black leather belt in front of you, the sound of metal against metal so unbelievably erotic. 

Above you, you hear Matty shuffle, hands digging into the pockets of his suit jacket. Producing a pack of cigarettes, he sticks one between his lips, light not far behind. Something stirs in you when he lights it, the soft glow of the flame making him look even more attractive than he already was.  

He’s hard against the palm of your hand as you work the buttons of his trousers, pulling them down along with his black boxer-briefs. The cool air makes him groan, a cloud of smoke leaving his parted lips. The smell doesn't take long to fill your senses, so distinctly Matty. 

Not in the mood for a tease, his hand finds the thick locks of your hair, threading his fingers through it. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he watches you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning when the taste of him hit your tongue. 

He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you take him in, hollowing out your cheeks in that way that makes him lose his mind. 

His hand pushes your head down lightly, silently asking for permission. You let him, his cock brushing against the back of your throat, making your gag reflex kick in. Using a trick your friend had taught you back in highschool, you press your thumb between the rest of your fingers, trying to suppress it. 

Matty is shameless above you, moaning and groaning whenever you bobbed your head, incredibly pent up and desperate. 

Trying again, you let him guide himself deeper into your mouth, his sounds of encouragement spurring you on. 

“So fucking good, just- yeahh, thats it, fuck” his words go straight to your core, and you clench your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the aching pressure between your legs. 

Bobbing your head, you breathe through your nose, taking him as deep as you can without gagging, feeling him twitch in your mouth. His tip leaks salty precum onto your tongue, the smells of cigarettes the only thing you could concentrate on. You look up, your eyes meeting his right as he takes a drag, pushing your head down even further. Again, you sputter, but you don't get off.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, choking on my cock like this.” he groans, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy.

“Made for me, weren't you? Perfect mouth, shit.” his rambling lets you know he’s close, hips bucking up into your mouth, your tongue running over the vein on the underside of his cock, pulsing with need. 

Taking one last drag, he lets the finished cigarette fall onto the concrete floor behind the sofa, both hands now on your head, fucking his cock into your warm mouth. 

You moan around him, the vibrations sending curses falling from his lips, the sounds of his movements echoing through the living room. 

“I’m not gonna last, fucking- oh god.” he warns you, quickly pulling off him. Shaking your head, you raise your eyebrows at him and a small smile spreads onto your face. 

“When has that ever been an issue?” he laughs, brushing your hair out of your face sweetly. You rub your cheeks against his thigh, eyes set on his weeping erection, desperate for release. 

“Now, let me take care of you, okay?” he nods slowly, both his arms spread out on either side of him, letting you have full control. You dive back in, switching from kitten licking the tip to deepthroating him as far as you can go, his gasps of pleasure like music to your ears.

“Jesus, you‘re a fucking wet dream.” he moans, hips bucking uncontrollably as he spills onto your mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His legs shake as you hold your head there, taking everything he gives you, the salty taste of him like heaven.

You stick out your tongue proudly, showing it completely clean. His hands grab your shoulders as fast as they can move, pulling you up and onto his lap. He kisses you, hard, tongue forcing its way into your mouth before you could even react. Groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, his fingers wipe at your cheeks, rubbing off your mascara, which had started to stream down your face. 

“You're a temptress, you are.” he grins, kissing you again, softer this time. Rolling your eyes, you use your nails to scratch the back of his head, knowing how much he loved the sensation.  

“You didn't even try to resist.” you spit back, giggling at the speed at which he’d pulled you onto him, not even bothering to take his shoes off before plopping onto the sofa. 

“I didn't, did I?” 

[23starii]

Son Of Hermes

Luke castellan x Daughter of Posidon! Reader

Chapter one: Thanks a lot, Poseidon.

Summary: You help the son of hermes get a certain smart girl back in bed for the night after hearing the news about a new camper.

Quick a/n; this is a slow story, unfortunately! Loll The first chapter is only an introduction of sorts to shine a little light to the background of the reader.

Based on the show!

"Y/n..."

Your body shakes, strong arms moving you side to side, up and down by your shoulders as your stir awake the loud booming of thunder and the soft rain hitting the ground smack you in the face all at once.

"Y/n!"

Your eyes finally open, greeted by dark ones almost above you.

"Luke..?" You rub your eyes, pushing him away and sitting up with a gasp. What could he possibly want at this ungodly hour?

"Y/n, you gotta come with me." He says, sounding serious, a tone Castellans voice doesn't take on often.

"What? Dude..what time is it?" You wonder, looking around the dark cabin, the sun nowhere to be seen.

"Doesn't matter.. there's a new camper, y/n. I want you to come with me, I can't get Annabeth back to bed." He explains softly as the sleep finally leaves your eyes.

"Annabeth? Oh..geez..it's pouring." You sigh deeply, remembering the girls' infatuation with newcomers.

"I'm going..wait outside, sicko." You mutter, pointing at the cabin door sluggishly.

He makes a noise of agreement noding and heading out the door, decinding not to mention your comment about him.

Luckily for him, you had gifted him an umbrella not too long ago, which was useful in this moment.

You throw the blankets off yourself and quickly jump into some pants.. you hadn't been wearing any.

Thank the gods Luke castellan hadn't shoved the blankets off you to wake you. This could've been awkward.

Nonetheless, you throw on a jacket along with chunky but cute rain boots and exit through the same door Luke had earlier with an umbrella of your own. And that's where you found him outside.

"So..what's going on?" You wonder as he begins leading the way.

"It was the craziest thing, y/n.." he begins, catching your attention as he spoke over the rain as it picked up.

First person pov

"Grover was bringing the kid to camp along with the kids' mom. They were being chased by the minotaur, and well, .. kids' mom didn't make it." He tells me almost whispering the last part. I won't lie. it caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but feel instant pity for the kid.

"But then.." Luke continued.

"The damn kid.. he managed to kill the minotaur. He's only 12" there was a moment of silence, and maybe it was just because of how dark and cold it was, but for some reason I couldn't help but feel a personal connection with the story.

"He killed..the minotaur?" I whispered as we finally reached the infermery. i stare at Luke for a moment, hoping for his next words. instead, im met with another loud crack of thunder that lights up the sky with lightning.

Zeus.

"Yea..so I guess Annabeth thinks he's special or something. Won't leave to go back to bed." He sighs. I could hear the concern for his sister in his voice.

I pat his arm quickly and open the infermery door stepping inside the small and dark building.

"Annabeth?" I whisper out as loudly as I could in order to not disturb.

I get no response back, not like I was expecting one anyway. Luke steps in after me, closing the door behind him, leaving the rain muffled by the walls.

we walk through occasionally bumping into appliances when i spot her smaller frame sitting in front of a resting bed, which was occupied.

"annabeth.." Luke and i say in unison. she hadn't moved at all.

"Hey..annabeth, let's go to bed, yea? It's too late for you to be here." i say, taking a seat beside her and resting my hand on her arm. she didn't flinch, only stared at the bed, not the camper in it, but the bed.

"Are you tired? Luke and I will walk you there." i say, gripping my hand the slightest bit tighter.

"What about you? arent you tired? It's late." she responds, still not looking at me.

i think of what to say for a moment.

"Of course i am.. but how will i sleep knowing you aren't in bed? what about Luke? knowing you aren't safely dreaming in the athena cabin worries us. besides.. if you stay here when that boy wakes up, hell think you were up waiting for him. you dont want him to get the wrong idea, do you?" i nudge her slightly and playfully. i could see her finally focus on my words, and she finally looked at me.

"Come on mrs smarty pants." i stand up and gesture for her to do the same, and she does, surprisingly.

i look at Luke, but i can't see him until another lightning strikes and lights up the room. he was smiling at us.

i link my arm with Annabeths, and we all walk toward the door. i open up my umbrella, putting it over annabeth and i stepping out into the muddy camp grass. Luke followed behind us with his own.

"Let's take you to bed." i say to the girl beside me, and she nods. i look at Luke, and he gives me a thumbs up in agreement.

we begin walking through camp in the direction of the athena cabin. we pass by the hermes cabin, then the Aphrodite cabin.

Annabeth and i both wore rain boots, so we were safe, but Luke, he was wearing regular sneakers, making them irreversibly muddy and wet as we walked through.

"It's just up ahead." Luke almost shouted as we wouldn't be able to hear him over the rain.

as we finally reach the cabin i tighten my arm around annabeths as we go up the few steps to the door she is about to enter when i dont remove my arm from hers she looks at me waiting.

"Hey, be safe. dont go doing dumb things that'll worry us. and dont bother that boy too much, we can imagine what he must be feeling, right?" i speak.

"Sorry. and okay." she looks away, and i finally loosen up, allowing her in her cabin.

the door shut behind her, and i look behind myself, seeing Luke there waiting. he wasn't looking at me. as a matter of fact, he wasn't even facing me. he was facing away from the building, standing guard, i suppose.

in that moment before i walked toward him, the rain began to slowly let up. i finally reach him.

"Let's go." i yawn tiredly.

"yea." he responds, sounding equally as tired.

"Thanks for helping." He looks at me thankfully, and I nod at him, replying with a "of course, Luke, " he smiles.

we begin walking in the direction of the dimeter cabin, which is also the direction of the posidon cabin.

"So, that boy." i begin. Luke looks at me.

"Is he gonna be okay?" I wonder.

"he should be. physically, i mean. dont know how he's gonna react, tho..grover said he knew nothing about.. you know, our world, until just earlier today." he explains, which catches me off guard.

"That poor boy.." i mumble, staring at the ground.

"godly parent?" i ask, looking over him. he looks at me and shrugs. as expected.

"Be nice to him." i half meant it in a silly way, but a part of me felt so serious when the words came out of my mouth.

"i will." he replies.

we continue silently for a while longer before we reach the posidon cabin. when we got there, the sun began rising in the slightest, and i groaned at the thought.

"were here." Luke says, turning to me.

"Yep." i reply, walking up to the door before turning to him.

"Sleep well." i laugh knowing we probably have to be up in two hours.

"Sure, you too." he chuckles, waving me off.

i enter the cabin, throwing my umbrella somewhere in the big emty space before shoving off my pants and sweater, then throwing myself on my bed. i hated how empty the cabin was compared to the rest. the building felt so big despite being of the smallest in camp.

what made it feel so big was the lack thereof anyone else. it had just been me in this empty cabin for so long, years even. i couldn't remember the last time i left camp, to be honest.

i look around once more and sigh before closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep, secretly cursing my father for leaving me all on my own.

just me.

thanks a lot, Poseidon.

[allllium]

Heyaaa, I have a request! If it's not too much trouble, have you listened to too sweet by Hozier.. that song with the tf 141 boys (if it could be Ghost, it would be great!!)

Thanks in advance!!! And it's perfectly fine if you don't wanna!

~ I'm really sorry this took so long, I have not been feeling great but here it is. I hope you like this because honestly I am terrible at comprehending songs but I think this fits pretty well :)

~ If you're not happy with this for any reason please let me know and I will happily redo it with your advice <3

~ Fluff, WC: 1,189

You have a crush on Simon Riley. You know this, and so does everyone else, including him. Despite the very obvious adoration on your part he's never said anything about it.

You honestly have no idea how he feels about you and you're not sure you want to know. You do tons of little things for him and he does things for you, but that's all your relationship entails.

You are both so different it's not like you could ever fit together so perfectly, right?

I take my whiskey neat

“Here you are Lt.” You slide him a drink across the table. He makes a face behind his mask that you now recognize as his scowl. “Don't make that face at me.”

“You can't even see my face,” he replies, in his signature thick accent. “And I don't need you buying me drinks.”

“Well that's too bad 'cause’ I did. Don't tell me you're gonna let good whiskey go to waste.”

His deep brown eyes stare at you for a heavy moment before picking up the drink, lifting his mask just enough to show his cut jaw and full lips.

“Usually this is where I get a thank you.” You taunt him, trying not to let your gaze linger on what you can see of his perfect but slightly messed up face.

“Don't push your luck, Sargent.”

My coffee black…

“Oh dark like your soul, ain't that right Lt.” You gesture towards his black mug of black coffee.

Simon takes a deep breath as he takes in your words, his chest rising and falling in annoyance. He shakes his head silently, apparently not wanting to pleasure you with a response.

“Seriously, how do you drink that?” You put your hand on his perfect arm to push him out of the way of the coffee pot.

“Oh let me guess you take your coffee with a pound of sugar.” He rolls his eyes at you, in more of an attitude than you appreciate.

“Incorrect. I'm sweet enough as it is.” You smile at him while you turn around to stir your drink.

“Maybe a little too sweet don't you think?”

“Only to you.” You mutter under your breath.

…And my bed at three

“Oi Lt, what are you doing up at this hour?” You take amusement at the way this giant of a man jumps slightly at your voice.

“Did you just say oi?” He asks as if he didn't just hear you say it.

“Yes I did, do we need to get your hearing checked?” You make fun of him for the hundredth time that day.

“Why?” His gruff voice cuts through the air.

“I want it on record that I don't appreciate this attitude of yours. And I said "oi” because I'm becoming more like you.”

“I don't say oi.”

“I don't believe you. You sound like you say it.” You shrug and take a seat on the couch next to you.

“What does that mean?” He sits down next to you but he seems like he doesn't want a real answer.

“Your voice.”

“What's wrong with my voice?” This time it seems like he actually wants to know what you think.

“Oh nothing. It's a nice voice but it just gives me oi vibes.” He stares at you like you're crazy.

“I have a nice voice do I?”

“Don't let it get to your head.” You lay your head.on his shoulder.

No one speaks for a while but eventually Simon sits up. “It's three in the morning, we should get to bed.”

“Yeah that's probably smart.” You give him a big smile when you stand up. “Goodnight Lt.”

You're too sweet for me

“And here you are.” You take a dramatic bow as you hand Simon his gift, acting as if you just delivered the most important thing in the world.

“What is this?” He asks with a tone of impatientence.

“A gift.”

“It's not a holiday-” You quickly cut him off.

“Or your birthday I know, but I remember you saying something about it and got it for you”

“How do you know it's not my birthday, I've never told you that.” He pauses for a split second before continuing, “Did you look at my files?”

“That's not important, open your gift.” He shakes his head but opens the bag you've given him.

Quickly, he pulls out a mask just like the one he's currently wearing. A mask you've handmade just for him.

“What is this?” He instantly demands.

“That is what we call a mask sir. I remember you told me about that one having an annoying hole so I thought I'd help you out. Originally I was just gonna patch the hole but then I figured that mask has been through a lot so you deserved a new one.”

He loudly clears his throat. “I hope you know there won't be a gift in return.”

“I don't expect one, simply doing a nice thing.”

“Well thank you Sargent.” You smile at his thanks, feeling how much he means it.

“Anytime.” Is the only word you get in before he runs off.

You're too sweet for me

“You know this is basically our third date.” You randomly blurt out. You're sitting with Simon in a coffee shop off base. You don't know what you were expecting with Simon off base but one thing you never thought about when inviting him out is his absence of the mask.

Obviously wearing it would draw more attention than usual but now you're sitting straight across from the face of the man you're practically fawning over.

“This is not a date.” He defends roughly.

“Yes it is, our first was dinner and second was the bar so that makes this the third.”

“Those weren't dates, just outings between friends.” He runs his eyes everywhere but your face.

“Aww so you admit we're friends.” You can't help but tease. “But I'm being serious Simon. You can't deny it forever.”

“Yes I can.” He fiddles with his drink as you continue your mini interrogation.

“No you can't. I know you like me, Lt. Why won't you say it.”

“You're different.” He begins.

“If you start to say I'm dumb you're getting punched.”

“No! Of course not. You're different from me and I don't know if we would work.”

“Bullshit. Spill it.”

“Fine, you're too sweet.” He spits out as if it was fire coming out.

You can't help the bubbling laugh that spills out your mouth. “Too sweet? What does that even mean?” You ask him, still laughing.

“I don't know. You're too sweet to me, you give me things and you say all the right things and I don't think I could give all that back to you.”

‘I don't want you to give me anything back. I want you to give me you, you're too sweet for me too Lt. Even if it is in a different looking way.” You slide your hand across the table to lay on his. He returns your hold and gives you a smile that is uniquely his. This is all you need.

[quinnylouhughesx43]

‘Is your Brother Luke?’ Part 2

Summary: The parent’s of the mother of Luke’s daughter discuss the details of losing their daughter. Semi-Luke’s reaction to Lillian and the loss.

Warnings: story of death by genetic condition leading to health complication, rough pregnancy/delivery, heartbreak, handing over parental rights — grandparents, not breaking up but just leaving them, , — possibly more.

🌻💚🌻💚🌻💚🌻💚🌻💚🌻💚🌻💚🌻💚🌻

Jack was only used to having his teammates or a girl he managed to pick up at the bar over. So he wasn’t quite sure how to host two strangers. His teammates helped themselves and the girls he brings home are usually helping themselves to him.

Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly he spoke up, “would either of you like something to drink? I don’t have much. Water, Gatorade, beer?” He tried to laugh it off as if he wasn’t trying to hide the fact he was shaking from head to toe due to his nerves. “We’re okay, thank you.” The couple sat on the loveseat across from where he stood. “I, uh. I didn’t get your names earlier either…” Jack let his words wander off into the quiet of the apartment hoping that if they didn’t want to share with him they wouldn’t close down on him. “Phillip and Ruth Weaver.” Ruth gives Jack a soft smile. Jack feels inclined to reach across and shake Phillip’s hand as it now feels it is an official meeting.

“So Jack, you asked about what happened to our little girl.” Phillip said while making direct eye contact with him. All Jack could do was nod. His nerves are making their way back. “In short, she passed away a couple weeks ago.” Phillip kept his eyes on Jack, but Jack couldn’t look at him or at Ruth. He looked everywhere but at them. He felt like he could be sick. Jack had been silently hoping and wishing since the moment at the door when they said she was gone. That meant she just got up and left. Gave up her rights. But deep inside he knew it meant this. It always meant the worst.

When Jack went to talk next each word came out stumbled over and he was positive that neither Phillip or Ruth understood him. He had asked what happened, needing to know more. He couldn’t be left in the dark.

“Our sweet Lyla Grace was born with a genetic disorder known as Vascular Ehlers Danlos. It’s a recessive gene and it happened to skip current generations, until our baby girl.” Ruth picked up explaining as Phillip doesn’t seem to be able to get past the sentence he just dropped. “Her specific type of Ehlers Danlos is often referred to as the most serious. Vascular Ehlers Danlos affects someone’s blood vessels and their organs. Lyla had many surgeries due to ruptures.” Ruth continued explaining.

Pausing for a moment to gather herself, Jack took the time to breathe. He hadn’t necessarily been holding his breath but it sure felt like it. “When Lyla told us she wanted to go off to Michigan for college we were not for it at first. She was our baby girl. Way too fragile. The girl barely bumped into anything and she bruised like she was hit by a linebacker. But, she convinced us in the end.” Ruth gave a soft smile looking at Lillian who was beginning to stir.

“It wasn’t long after freshman move in she called me all giddy about this boy she had met. Told me his name was Luke, that he played hockey for the college, and that he was the one. She swore by it after only hanging out twice. She was so sure of it. Two days later I started to get pictures of the two of them and it continued. Your brother no doubt loved our Lyla Grace.” Ruth kept talking while she wrangled Lillian out of the seat before she started crying. “He took immaculate care of her. Any time she was sick, he made sure she had what she needed. If he had to leave for his commitment to hockey he took her to the hospital to make sure she was safe. It was sometime in between St. Patrick’s day and the end of the school year when something shifted in Luke. He still treated her right but he wasn’t around as much. It was like he started the shutout process then. When the frozen four rolled around and the loss happened, he just vanished. Three days later is when I get the call from her about the positive test.”

Jack still felt as if he could throw up. He’s heard all about this girl. All about how Luke is going to find her after his rookie season. How he’s going to make it right. How she’s it for him, he’d never been in love before her. Jack has no idea how he’s going to tell his baby brother that he not only had a baby with her and missed it but that she’s gone.

“But..how did she?” Jack asked the open ended question that they each knew what he was needing to know. “We all knew she should not have even thought of keeping her pregnancy, but she was so sure that Luke would come back to her. She was determined to keep going. She carried little britches here almost full term. 35 weeks was when she was delivered. The whole pregnancy was hard. In and out of the hospital because of the risk of hemorrhaging, the stress on her heart, the overall health risk Lyla proposed with the pregnancy. Delivery we were all on pins and needles about her heart. When The delivery was over and clear aside from the excess bleeding she experienced. We thought we made it through and all was good, we never expected it to be 7 months later when the problem showed up with her heart.” Ruth looked like she would break at any moment. She was hanging on to her granddaughter, the only thing left of her daughter. “All the pushing during delivery had created a tear in her heart. The lifting and holding of Lilly put a strain on her and made the tear bigger. We noticed the change in color of her body and took her to the hospital. While waiting for her scans is when she coded. They couldn’t do anything, it was too late.” Phillip finished for his wife with the most monotone voice. Jack hadn’t noticed he had got up and started putting together some sort of baby bed. “Jack, one of the hardest things I have ever had to do is put my baby girl to rest while holding her baby girl. We are not handing her over to Luke because we do not want her. We are handing her over because we are not capable of taking care of her the way she needs us to. Luke is her dad, she already lost her mom. This precious little one needs at least one parent in her life. Luke can provide for her plenty.” Phillip explains to Jack placing a hand on his shoulder.

Jack’s mind is spinning. He’s trying to absorb everything. Clearly they’re wrapping up the visit and are about to leave. He’s not ready to face his brother with the news. He needs to stall them.

“I want your alls contact information. I will make sure you still get to see Lillian and I will arrange all the travel for when it’s planned. You can’t write her out of your life.” Jack talked so fast the couple laughed. “Slow down honey, don’t panic. We appreciate it. We only live about 2 hours away in New York.” Ruth assures him. She places Lillian down in the pack and play Phillip just assembled.

The three of them share goodbyes and their phone numbers. Shutting the door behind him and locking it. Hopefully for the night. Jack runs his fingers through his hair and lets out an instead groan.

“Hey who was just here? And why is there a baby?” Luke asks sauntering down the stairs. “Oh! You’ll love this. So will Quinn let’s call him.” Jack can’t do this alone, so he FaceTimes Quinn. “What’s up with you two? Jack has shit eating grin on, and Luke looks confused.” Jack snickers slightly and Luke repeats his question from moments before. “Jack who was just here and why is there a baby?” Jack moves his phone to sit against the TV as he picks up Lillian and holds her out so her face is next to Luke’s.

“Quinn, meet your niece, Lillian Wren Hughes! You’ll never who the daddy is! I’ll give you a hint. It’s not me BUT he does play for the New Jersey Devils” Jack is full on cackling by now and turns Lillian to show Luke his baby. “Luke Warren Hughes, what did you do?!” Quinn asks from the phone. “Quinn I know you don’t get much action up there in Vancouver and all, but he part—“ before Jack could finish his chirp on his brother about his sex life he hung up.

“Did you say Lillian Wren?” Luke asked taking the 7 month old from his brother. “Uhm, yes? Is that all you’re fixated on you don’t want to know the mom or how she got here?” Jack tried pressing him. “I know who the mom is.” Luke countered. Staring at his little girl as she gives him a smile that shows her one bottom tooth growing in. “You, you do?” Jack asked, swallowing hard. “Yeah, Lyla and I said if we were lucky enough to have kids and had a baby girl her name would be Lillian Wren and if we had a boy it would be Leland Gray.”

Luke was lost in his memories. It’s killing Jack he has to break his heart. Break the fantasy he knows Luke is already creating in his mind. “So who were the older people and if she’s mine and Ly’s where is Ly?” Luke stopped looking down at Lillian to meet his brother’s sad stare.

“They were Ruth and Phillip Weaver. Lyla’s parents. They brought Lillian to you because…maybe I should take Lillian and you sit down before I tell you.” Jack reaches for the baby ask Luke jerks away. “I’ll sit with her. Now tell me.” Luke wasn’t a fan of how soft Jack had suddenly turned or how sad he looked. “Luke, you know Lyla was sick.”

Luke nodded slowly already piecing together what Jack was going to say at the end of this all.

“Carrying Lillian was very hard on her. She was in and out of the hospital. She delivered early. The doctors were worried about her straining her heart while she delivered. Her mom said she had excess bleeding after the delivery but her heart seemed to be okay.” Jack’s mouth felt like sandpaper. Luke could barely breathe. Lillian was pulling on her daddy’s curls. Something new to explore. “It was unknown that she actually had a small tear in her heart from straining and pushing. The months following with bending and picking up little bit, the tear got larger. Her parents said they took her to the hospital the moment they saw a change in her color. But it was too late. I…im sorry Luke but she’s gone.” Jack barely made it through the last part before he had to get up and wrap his younger brother in his arms.

Sobs rattled through Luke. He kept repeating how unfair and cruel this all was. Lillian taking in her surroundings. Jack felt useless and horrible because he had to be the one to deliver the news.

“Jack, please call mom. Please get her the first ticket here. I need her. She’s going to kill me. But I need her.” Luke begged.

What Luke didn’t know was Jack had already booked his mom’s ticket when the Weaver’s were there.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is "I don't see him" for @dragonleighs

Eyes roaming the snowy scene ahead of them, Merrin does her best to mirror Cere and contain her panic, as though they haven’t just watched an avalanche crush an entire village with their friends still inside it. The last thing she saw was Cal, arms thrown out, the Force gathering. “I don’t see him,” she shouts over the snowstorm. “I don’t see any of them.”

“Neither do I,” Cere says. She closes her eyes, breathing steadying. “They’re alive.”

It takes all Merrin’s self-control to not demand more information from Cere. That, and the knowledge that there are a lot of frightened people gathered behind them, people she refuses to scare further when they may have lost loved ones to the snow and ice. Instead, she stays quiet, feeling the Force move around Cere in ways not accessible to a Nightsister.

Cere’s eyes spring open. She points. “There. Where the clinic used to be.”

Merrin grabs her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Cere pauses for a moment to face the other villagers. “Get to higher ground!”

The elder takes control of their people, leading them to a nearby cliff. Cere gives Merrin a nod, and they’re standing atop the ruined village a heartbeat later. Merrin feels the Force beneath her, a great hand pushing up with waning strength. She summons her magick, lets its flames melt the snow. Cere reaches down and pulls out Greez, who wastes no time turning back and helping her free the others.

Merrin looks up, sees more snow headed their way. She races forward, moving so slowly, half-blinded by the storm, but her magick is as rapid as her thinking, a wall of fire blocking its onward path. She puts more strength into it, but nature can only be held back for so long, and already she is forced to retreat, centimeter by centimeter.

“Everyone’s out, Merrin!” Cere bellows. “Move!”

She teleports back to the others and finds the villagers, Cere, Greez, Cal and BD wading through waist-deep snow. Cere’s pulling Cal onward. Greez, being smaller, struggles more, and Merrin grabs him and teleports them both back to the safety of the cliff where the rest of the villagers wait. She turns to go back to help the others, but they’re already scrambling to safety. Cal rolls onto the cliff, nudged a little further from the edge with a few head bumps from BD. He flops onto his side, panting for breath, glassy eyed with exhaustion. Cere crouches down, squeezes his shoulder, and then looks up to the villagers. “Is everyone alright?”

There is a collective yes (if Merrin ignores Greez’s gagging at her side). The elder steps forward. “We should seek shelter in the caves,” they say. “Can he walk?” They mean Cal.

Cere shakes her head. The elder calls to a large, practically Wookie-sized Human male and he scoops up Cal and unceremoniously throws him over his shoulder. BD hops onto Cere’s shoulders. The elder leads the entire group into the nearby caves for shelter.

“Are you done throwing up?” Merrin asks Greez, her hand on his back as she leads him on. If they lose sight of the others in this weather, they might never find the caves.

“Ugh, I hope so,” Greez says, pushing through the snowstorm. “But I’m alive, and I’m very grateful to you and Cal for helping keep me that way, so no more complaining from me.”

In the cave, villagers unpack emergency supplies, including heaters and blankets. Merrin and Greez find Cere, Cal and BD-1 near one of these heaters, Cal’s head cushioned on Cere’s lap, tucked under a blanket, BD sticking close.

“Wore himself out huh?” Greez says, sitting down and resting a hand on Cal’s head. “So much for taking it easy after Nur.”

Cere only manages the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps the next place we stop at should be devoid of all weather.”

“I know a few merchant barges that will serve our needs,” Greez says, Cal not stirring as he runs his hair through his fingers. “He kept that snow off our heads until Merrin melted it. I don’t think he knew he could do it until he did.” He looks to Merrin. “You did good to get us out.”

Merrin sits down too. “It was a team effort.”

Cere reaches over, her hand resting atop Merrin’s. “You gave us enough time to get everyone out.”

Merrin feels herself smiling and blushing. “Happy to help.”

The villagers settle into groups. A short while later a few come over and provide bowls of simple soup. The scent of warm food rouses Cal, who sits up and eats with minimal conversation. He blinks and grunts in response to any questions. He does at least seem glad the villagers are all alive.

“I have decided I do not like snow,” Merrin tells him.

He glances at her, yawning massively. “Me neither.”

[nurse-sainz]

Not a People Doctor

Pairing: Rhett Abott x Vet!Reader

Fandom: Outer Range

After a bar fight, Rhett shows up at your doorstep.

For the amazing @vivwritesfics and the reason I am now Rhett/ Bob trash! Thank you for the title idea 💕💕

It's getting late as you settle down in your living room with a hot cup of tea and the latest book you're reading. Your peace is interrupted by a soft knocking at your door. You almost think you've imagined it when the knock comes again, a little louder this time. Grumbling slightly, you set your book aside, hoping it isn't another mare in labour or a horse with colic; you just want a quiet night.

Opening the door, you put on a smile for the paying customer you expect to find, but your smile falls as you see none other than Rhett Abbott, your childhood friend and a frequent customer. He looks dishevelled, blood staining his clothes, and you can already see the bruises and cuts on his face in the dim porch light.

"Jesus, Rhett, what the hell happened to you?" you exclaim, ushering him inside.

He winces as he moves, clearly in pain but not wanting to let on. "Got into a bit of a scuffle at the bar," he mutters, not quite meeting your gaze.

Leading him into your living room, you move the blanket you'd been cuddled under not long ago. "Sit down, let me take a look at you."

He lowers himself onto the sofa. You flip on the light switch to give you a better view of his injuries as you sit on the coffee table opposite him.

"You must've really pissed someone off," you tut as you gently turn his head with your fingers on his chin. You lift his shirt seeing the bruises over his ribs, shaking your head. "We need to get you to a hospital; some of these cuts need stitches. Probably got a broken rib or two as well." 

Rhett gives you a shit-eating smile, a smile only he could pull off when his face looks half as bad as it does, and it still makes you weak at the knees. "That's why I came here, thought you were a doctor."

"I'm an animal doctor, not a people doctor," you shake your head in disbelief.

"I can try. I don't have any of the good pain meds, so it's going to hurt like a bitch, and it won't be the prettiest. Gonna have a few more scars to add to the list."

"Never had any complaints from you. You always liked my scars and tattoos."

You smack him lightly on the arm, causing a 'hey' from him in response. Ignoring him, you run to get the first aid kit you keep in your bathroom closet as well as your veterinary kit.

You start to clean his wounds, carefully stitching up the deep cut over his eyebrow. You can't help feeling a pang of concern. Rhett isn't a stranger to bar fights, but seeing him so vulnerable and injured stirs something within you.

"Are you going to tell me what that fight was about?" you ask gently, your voice laced with worry.

Rhett hesitates for a moment before he meets your gaze. "It was dumb. Just some guy mouthing off about things he shouldn't have," he admits, jaw clenching.

You sigh, finishing up and snipping the last of the stitches. "You need to be more careful, Rhett. You're going to get yourself seriously hurt one day."

He nods, his expression sheepish. "I know... I know. I just... I didn't want to go to the hospital."

You place a comforting hand on his cheek, your thumb gently smoothing over his cheekbone. "Well, you're just lucky you've got me, and I happen to know my way around stubborn bull riders, and I'm pretty good at suturing."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "You have no idea."

Once you've finished cleaning and bandaging the last of the wounds on his face, you sit back, admiring your handiwork. "There... all done," you lean in and place a gentle kiss on the side of his head, "good as new." 

Rhett stands up slowly, getting a look in the mirror above your fireplace. "Thanks, sweetheart. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it, I'll just add it to the list. Just promise me you'll be more careful, Rhett. I'm pretty good, but some injuries I can't fix."

He nods, his gaze finally meeting yours. "I promise."

As he makes his way to the door, you can't help but shake the feeling of concern lingering. "Hey, Rhett? You need a place to stay tonight? Probably shouldn't be alone after something like this."

"I don't want to put you out..."

"You're not," you interrupt him.

Rhett's gaze softens, and you can see the gratitude in his eyes. "I... I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

You feel a wave of relief wash over you as you leave him on the couch, running to change your sheets, not wanting him to spend the night on the sofa with his injuries.

"Beds all changed; let's get you some rest. I've got some pain meds and a glass of water up there for you too."

He looks at you, confused as to why you haven’t brought down blankets and pillows, assuming he'd be sleeping on the couch.

You hold out your hand. "Come on, I don't mind. Besides, I'll feel a lot better knowing you're not sleeping on that uncomfortable sofa."

He blinks, confusion evident in his expression. "Are you sure, Y/N? I don't want to intrude."

You give him a look that leaves no room for arguments, and he knows he'd be fighting a losing battle to even try.

With a grateful nod, he takes your hand, helping pull himself to his feet before he follows you up the stairs. You pull back the covers, helping him slip under the blankets before joining him. As you both lie there, you couldn’t help but love the feeling of the warmth of his body beside you. You love it even more as he wraps an arm around your waist, whispering a thank you into the crook of your neck. 

[oblonger]

Chapter 10 of TPiaG: Body Swap AU

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@sincerely-sofie We made it to the double digits! Thank you so much for all your encouragement and nice words! It's what has kept me continuing with this story, despite the first chapter just kinda being a one off thing! I look forward to continuing it!

Dusknoir makes breakfast

"Do not ever forget that." Dusknoir uttered.

Even though he can't see his face, the light from the tail flame let him know exactly how Darkrai felt.

He let go of him, dropping him on the couch.

Dusknoir silently picked up the book he'd been learning Braille with and entered into his room. Quietly shutting the door, so as to not wake Celebi.

Dusknoir stood in front of his door for several moments before quietly slumping against it. His hands were shaking harder than he ever thought possible.

It wasn't her.

It's not her anymore.

That's Darkrai. Not Twig.

You didn't hurt Twig again.

That's not what Twig looks like anymore.

Dusknoir slowly breathed in and out.

He couldn't see Darkrai's face clearly. Even while so close to him.

But even if he looked like a painting had been left out in the rain before it could dry...

He still knew that look. It showed itself clearly in his mind despite his impaired vision.

He regretted intimidating him immediately

And it wasnt because he looked like her.

It was that expression of terror.

He felt he deserved it.

He tortured him and so many others for so long.

But the way his body completely froze when he grabbed him.

The same way that Twig did...

...

Dusknoir remembered how scared and vulnerable he felt whenever he was around Dialga.

He can't help but feel like he's not too different from how he acted.

Dusknoir wanted to apologize. And he didn't want to.

Dusknoir mustered the courage to peek out his door.

Darkrai had already left.

Dusknoir hesitated before he slunk back into his room.

He closed his door, and laid down in his bed.

Dusknoir quickly fell asleep. His thoughts swirled in spirals, chasing each other as he contemplated both throwing Darkrai out into the street, and begging for forgiveness.

~~

Dusknoir awoke before anyone else in the home.

His stomach growled in hunger.

That reminded him of how he heard Darkrai open and shut the pantry last night. Not having eaten anything.

Dusknoir felt... Well, it wasn't pity. Nor was it any kind of compassion. He thinks. He just remembers how difficult it was to have a full stomach so many years ago.

Dusknoir sighed as he rose from his bed. If he was going to feed Celebi and Grovyle, he might as well feed him too.

~

It took much longer than Dusknoir would ever admit to manage to create a rudimentary stir fry. He had to sample several berries to ensure that he was still putting in Rawst berries instead of Yache (Why did they even buy those?). It was only after he garnished them that he'd realized that he'd forgotten to check if those were walnuts and not cashews. And he prayed that the vegetables he cooked were a darker color because of the heat and not because he burned them.

The fact that he couldn't read the recipe book made it worse. He'd practically eaten two small portions by the time he'd finished. Constantly tasting it to make sure it wasn't worse than Celebi's 'cooking'.

Blast this darn eye, if only Kip hadn't-

Dusknoir's fist tightened. He struck down the thought instantly.

It was his fault that his vision was screwed up the way it was.

Not Kip's.

Kip didn't do anything wrong to him.

Not back then, and not now.

...

Dusknoir sighed as he looked out the window.

It was long past dawn.

Dusknoir quietly opened Celebi's door. The room dark after having a wardrobe pushed to sit in front of the window.

"Celebi?" Dusknoir asked. He was afraid he'd squish her if he felt around to find her. It was impossible to see in here.

"Mmgh..." She sleepily growled.

Dusknoir told her that he had made breakfast, but that he needed help.

Celebi eventually obliged, after he promised to let her sleep the rest of the day.

Dusknoir approached Darkrai's door, his plate of food held in one hand.

Celebi looked pretty upset that he'd asked her to unlock the door.

"Why dont you just break the lock?" She asked.

Dusknoir glanced away from her.

"I... I dont believe Twig would appreciate having more of her home destroyed during our stay."

That was a partial reason.

He was still scared of Darkrai.

He feared that opening the door would lead to the Legend that he had carried to the hospital just a week prior.

And given what he said last night...

Celebi quietly unlocked the door with a small screwdriver that was kept atop the doorframe. Putting it in the hole on this side and mumbling grumpily as she fiddled with it.

The door opened and it was just Darkrai. Still in Twig's body...

He had the blanket from last night draped over his back. His neck lay on top of the second blanket. Facing the door.

Dusknoir felt a pang of guilt run through him.

He set the plate of food on the floor and left.

Dusknoir gave Celebi her portion, and she sat down at the table to eat as Dusknoir prepared Grovyle's portion.

Even if he had to squint to think he knows what Celebi's expression was, the fact that she wasn't humming a tune or complimenting his cooking told him all he needed to know.

"Are you okay Celebi?" He asked, lowering himself to sit on the ground across from her.

Celebi's head turned away from her food. He thinks she's glaring at the ground.

"I'm fine." She growled.

Dusknoir steeled his expression.

"No you're not." He replied. He saw Celebi's head turn back towards him.

"Please, Celebi. I'm worried. Tell me how I can-"

Celebi interrupted him with an exasperated sigh.

"Look, I appreciate that you want to help. But I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now. So can you just leave me alone please?" Celebi voiced.

Dusknoir watched her as she ate the rest of her food.

Celebi rose from her seat after taking her last bite.

"Thanks for the food. It was delicious." She mumbled, her tone not indicating much one way or the other.

Celebi fluttered from her seat, back into her room and shut the door. Leaving Dusknoir alone.

Dusknoir sighed as he collected her dishes and put them in the sink.

He took Grovyle's plate and entered into the room he was staying in.

"Grovyle. I... I made breakfast."

Dusknoir sat down next to him, holding his plate.

"Thanks." He mumbled, as he started to sit up.

Dusknoir moved a hand and held it over his chest.

"I won't allow you to put yourself in more pain."

Grovyle laid back down, took a deep breath and sighed.

"Stop that. I know that hurts you."

Dusknoir took the fork on his plate and started feeding him.

It was almost comical. The hitman that hunted him for years feeding him like he's a toddler.

Dusknoir would have laughed if the circumstances were different.

Dusknoir eventually cleaned off Grovyle's plate.

"How was it?" He asked.

Grovyle swallowed the last bite.

"Good." He replied.

Dusknoir rose from his seating position.

"Is there anything else I can-"

"No." Grovyle interrupted.

Dusknoir looked at him with worry before sighing.

"Alright."

He left the room, gently shutting Grovyle's door.

Dusknoir returned to the kitchen and put the dishes away.

He propped his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. Holding his head in his hands.

He wanted to help.

He wanted to make up for what he's done to them.

He's trying so hard.

But how on earth do you help someone that doesn't want help?

Dusknoir sighed deeply as he put the final portions of breakfast into a container.

He needed to clear his head.

He needed to go for a walk, get some fresh air.

He might as well feed Kip and visit Twig.

Dusknoir silently left the home and started traveling to the Verdant Village hospital.

He glanced around occasionally.

His heart ached as he tried to see the beauty around him, but it was all blurred. His vision fell to the ground in front of him.

Tears stung in his eye as he forced his thoughts to not enter an awful mindset.

He is going to make things right.

He's going to tell Kip again, that what he forgives him for what he did.

He will tell him that as many times it takes to be believed.

And he'll tell him as many times as it takes for him to believe that as well.

"Aw shoot." Dusknoir heard someone mutter in front of him.

He looked up and his heart lept in his chest. Even while blurry he would recognize her.

"Twig?" He asked, his voice shaking.

The figure's head shot upwards, her piercing blue eyes, prominent enough to be clear compared to everything else.

"D-Dusknoir?" She asked, her voice shaking as well.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[kiwisbell]

Honey-Do [joel miller]

It’s Sunday, chore day, and Joel has a honey-do list item of his own: get his girl pregnant.

my masterlist!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: pre-outbreak joel, married!joel, pure fluff and smut, slight au, body worship, some cock worship, handyman!joel, malewife!joel, joel “my wife doesn’t lift a finger in this home” miller, vague daddy undertones, overstimulation, joel miller is a munch, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up unless you’re joel), creampie, breeding kink, actual breeding, talks of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, domestic bliss, joel’s love language being acts of service and by that i mean putting a baby in his wife, competence kink

word count: ~ 10k (someone stop me)

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, lovelies!! i received this ask ages ago and the idea inevitably snowballed because who is self-control?? does she go to a different school? anyway, this fic is pure plotless domestic fluff and domestic smut (is that a thing? yes!), so i really hope you all enjoy! pre-outbreak joel is very special to me xoxo

HONEY-DO

Your shared bedroom looks out over the eastern sunrise. A mutually-assured vigil, keeping one another safe—and timely. 

In the mornings, the golden light spills through the break in the curtains. It will peek slowly inside and gently warm your body awake, testing the limits of its power. When you roll over and make a soft groan of protest in your sleep, seeking more warmth, the little strip of sunlight will widen, directing you. You will find the body next to yours, nuzzling close, your nose bumping his bare chest, and settle happily against it. In return, his body will seek yours, symbiotic exchange, a greedy arm pulling you closer.

In frustration, the sun grumbles it way higher in the sky, shining brighter and spreading wider.

It takes a couple tries to get it right: to shine in just the right way to make you blink rapidly awake, squinting in the glow. You gradually come to life, your lungs sucking in the first deep breath of morning air, your naked body stretching like a cat in the sunspot. Dust hovers lazily in the air, heralding a Sunday occupied by chores. The room is still, silent, and kissed by morning rays. Peaceful.

You examine him in the light: tanned skin sparkling gold, plush lips slightly parted, broad chest rising and falling. His hair is pleasantly tousled from sleep. There are patches of silver beginning to thread through his dark brown beard, and in your self-sustaining state of affection, you gently put your lips to one of the patches of skin where hair does not grow. 

Your persistence grows with every second he refuses to wake. It may be a bit petulant, your lips smattering soft kisses across his jaw, beneath his ear, down to his neck and all its veins, but it begins to work. He stirs, groaning softly, turning onto his side and wrapping both arms around your waist. He does all of this without opening his eyes, resting his head on your belly and nuzzling against you as if he could get any closer—sated, for now, his body knowing nothing but the pull toward you. 

You comb your fingers through his messy hair and listen to him breathe while he listens to your heartbeat. 

“It’s ten,” you whisper.

“Hmph,” he says against your belly. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet; if you didn’t know his breathing patterns like they were mapped out in the lines of your palms, you would think he’s still sleeping. 

“We slept in,” you point out. 

Joel gently bumps his forehead into your stomach as if he were banging his head against a wall. “Shit,” he grumbles. 

You laugh as his moustache tickles your skin. “Do you want to get up now?”

Another grunt, accompanied by a shake of his head. Big, strong arms pull you closer. 

“I’ll make you breakfast,” you coo, stroking his hair away from his face. “Eggs… bacon… coffee…”

Joel presses his lips to your belly. “Don’t go takin’ my job, now,” he says, his voice groggy with disuse. “No girl of mine’s gonna run around gettin’ her own damn coffee.”

“Hmm. Means you have to move, Romeo.” 

This earns a playful smack to the side of your thigh, his big, callused hand kneading your flesh while he wakes himself up with mouthfuls of your scent—linen and vanilla—and gulps down the sunlight glowing on your skin. 

“Never mind,” you sigh, dreamy and complacent under his attention. 

His eyes finally crack open, peering up at you, honey-brown pools touched by the golden light. He rests his chin on your belly and keeps his arms wrapped around your hips. His fingers trace shapes up and down your lower back. “You got a honey-do list?” he asks with a crooked grin.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “That depends. Can I get you to mow the lawn without a shirt on?”

“What do I get if I do?” he teases, his hand moving to your hip, contouring his hand to the shape of you. 

You lift a brow, easing your legs apart underneath his body, letting him feel the warmth between your thighs. Like a moth to the goddamn flame, his eyes wide and eager, Joel crawls down your body with his mouth on your belly. Pausing just above your naked cunt, he blows cool air onto your clit and watches you squirm. 

“After,” you gasp. “After chores, honey. We’ll never get up if we start now.”

“Don’t think I can make my woman come in good time?” he challenges, his palms keeping your thighs spread. Your pretty pussy glistens before his eyes, better than any fuckin’ breakfast. He begins to salivate.

Your head falls back into the pillows. “I never said that.”

Joel isn’t listening anymore. He kneads your thighs as he peers at you above your belly, your tits, to the curve of your jaw as you lie comfortably. Good. His baby ain’t about to get herself worked up on a Sunday morning. 

He lowers his face just enough to let you feel his lashes tickling your lower belly, and you giggle his name, the sound pure adrenaline to his blood. You're so soft and supple under his fingers, moulding to his touch, letting him take care of you. You may be in charge of him, but this is where he takes control. 

He presses a soft kiss to your clit and you sigh, your head turning toward the direction of the sun. It warms your face while your husband slides his tongue through your wet slit, lazily and sleepily, as though he's operating on instinct alone. Gathering up your wetness on his tongue, he groans, his fingers dimpling your thighs. 

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Oh, God,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering. “Baby…”

That sweet little whine is poison. He cannot do anything but continue to drink you down, flicking his tongue against your clit. He's a sucker and he's always been. Your pretty fuckin’ smile from across the bar that first night; your tight black dress and the too-sweet cocktail you smooth-talked him into ordering that had his adenoids prickling; your instinct for sensing others’ troubles and your uncanny ability to make them feel like they have none at all. He never stood a chance. 

He knows for a goddamn fact every man in the bar that night wanted to do to you what Joel is doing now: lapping up your juices with his tongue, spit mingling with arousal, warming his body between your thighs under the watch of the mid-morning sun. But he got you. Joel. He bought you a drink and he took you on a date. He got to taste your pretty pussy and he got to sit you on his dick—after the second date, that is. 

He's the one who gets to wake up with you, share matching gold bands around your fingers, kiss you freely. As far as he's concerned, he's the luckiest guy on the fuckin’ planet. 

He feels particularly green when your back arches, your lips parting around his name, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on your clit. You're unashamed to take pleasure, never shy about telling him Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, honey! Joel, yes, that feels so good, baby. 

Joel preens with pride. His hot tongue glides over your clit, smooth and wet, easily coaxing you to a languid high. The golden spotlight through the curtains shines on you. You're the starlet and he's the adoring fan. From the first day, he knew he'd do anything to make you notice him. 

“This wasn’t your first bar fight, was it?”

Plucking pieces of glass out of his bloodied knuckles, you looked up through your lashes at Joel, who had been staring at you since you sat him down in the bathroom. Okay—a little longer than that. 

He shook his head. 

You just smiled at him and gently shook your head. About as much reproach as he would get. “This might sting. Just hold on tight if you need to.” 

“Like the sound of that,” he said quietly, and if you heard, you didn't comment. You guided his hand under the warm water and washed the rest of the blood from his knuckles, gently smoothing the pads of your fingers over his rough worker’s hands. Capable, you thought, idly watching the blood swirl into the drain. He barely winced when you put his hand under. 

“Wanna tell me why you did it?” you asked him, your tone soothing and sweet. 

Joel shrugged. Big, broad shoulders. Humbly strong, until someone made him show it. “Ain't manly to touch a woman like that.”

You lifted your brows. “But it's manly to beat the shit out of the guy who touched her?”

Joel studied your face. Cherry-red lip gloss. Gently flushed cheeks from a healthy couple drinks. The instinctual rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the lighting shifting gently over your collarbones. It was fascinating just to watch you breathe. Even cleaning his bloody knuckles, you slowly circled the pad of your thumb over the back of his hand, like an innate urge to comfort. Your eyes had an old wisdom to them; a particular gleam a person gained when they were familiar with the hardships life had to offer. 

He wanted to ask you. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to do more than beat up some asshole who thought he could get away with pinching your ass. 

But he would earn it. A real man earned what he got. 

“Didn’t beat the shit out of him. Just roughed him up,” he says. 

He watched you bite down on a smile. “You're a little twisted, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, eyes flicking to your dewy lips, coated with that gloss. “Think so?”

“Yeah.” You licked your bottom lip and he wondered if you tasted like cherries. “But I'm going to ask you on a date anyway.”

Your fingers curl in Joel’s messy hair, making him groan into your pussy. “Oh, baby,” you gasp, cracking your heavy eyes open to watch him lap at you, practically petting his hair away from his face as his big brown eyes remain fixed to yours. 

He purrs, suckling your clit between his lips, his eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of your flushed, tightening body. Making you come is one thing. Watching it is another. Your back arches and your fingers pull on his hair. Scalp prickling, Joel grips your thighs tighter. He’d let you peel away pounds of his flesh if it made you happy. He’d go eagerly to the grave knowing he had put some good into the world, put some light in your eyes. 

“Joel, I’m… I’m coming—ah!” you cry, your thighs squeezing his head, your sensitive clit pulsing under his tongue as your pussy contracts around itself, seeking something nice and big to grasp onto. His cock is aching, his hips grinding idly against the mattress for relief, his head fuzzy from the pleasure of making you feel good. Your body slowly melts into the bed, your limbs twitching as the tension in your muscles loosens, your lips parted permanently around his name. 

Eyes drooping and teary, you try to find him between your thighs, gently stroking his hair away from his face as it begins to fall into his big brown eyes. “Need a haircut,” you croak.

Joel hums, his head listing to the side, using your soft thigh as a pillow. He nips you playfully, your skin a golden path he intends to follow to the end. His hands caress your hips, helping you come down to Earth. You admire the delectable convex slope of his nose, the way it curves deliciously against your skin when he kisses, bites, inhales. He’s freckled and indented with the signifiers of a lived-in life; a good life. His is a likeness you could trace with your eyes closed. 

It’s eleven o’clock, and your stomach begins to grumble. 

Joel chuckles, pressing a long kiss to your belly. “Gettin’ up now,” he says. “Promise.”

He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, tucking his hard cock away to be dealt with later. Padding down the stairs, Joel is quick to tend to your needs, putting on a fresh pot of coffee. After so long together, his mind operates on autopilot, steering him from the cupboard to the refrigerator and back to the steaming pot, occupied with the menial task of making a good cup. The gentle clinking scrape of the spoon as he stirs your milk into the cup wakes him up until he feels practically revitalised. He keeps his coffee black.

He hears the soft tread of your feet behind him, feels the warmth of your body as you crowd his space, smiles at the way you smooth your palms over the planes of his muscled back in unadulterated admiration. His shoulders are wide, tapering down to the soft belly you’ve nurtured through years of cooking. He’s sturdy and strong and all yours. The sight of him always makes you a bit giddy. 

“So handsome,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your face between his shoulder blades. The buffed claws of his woodsy pine scent hook into the spaces between your ribs. 

Joel lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the wedding band on your finger, the engagement ring above it. “Sit down, baby. Coffee’s ready.”

You grin against his back, nudging your nose into his tanned skin. “Mmm. That sounds good. But I wanna stay here. ‘s nice and warm.” 

“Girl of my dreams,” Joel murmurs, reaching around his back and patting your ass. “C’mon, I’ll keep you warm.”

You grumble your way to the little circular table in the kitchen, tucked into the alcove at the front window. It’s a souvenir from your parents' garage sale when they decided to sell their home and move to Austin. As a girl, you’d draw, scratch, and paint on that table, endlessly entertaining yourself by marking things up. Even now, there are remnants of your childhood in the worn grooves and chipped varnish. It fits nicely into your home, perfectly suited to two. It could even fit one more. 

You ruminate as you watch Joel carry two mugs to the table. He knows which cup is your favourite: green ceramic decorated with tiny flowers, perfectly contoured to the shape and size of your hands, warming your palms just nicely between sips. Joel’s mug shows its age: white but slightly yellowed from years of use, bigger than yours. The steam of the coffee gently curls into the air, a dance of silvery ribbons in lock-step. They twist together as you purse your lips and blow. The rich, smooth caramel hue of your coffee contrasts the tar-black of Joel’s. 

Since you dragged yourself out of bed on shaky legs, you shrugged on the navy T-shirt he tossed aside last night to give his greedy wife access to his chest. You'd carved some decent marks into his skin, now that you're properly looking: tiny bruises sharpening to purple, faint pinkish scratch marks that you don't remember making. 

“Baby, I don’t mind,” he says, watching you scan his chest with a frown creasing your brow. 

“But it looks painful, honey. You should let me—”

“You don’t gotta do anything,” says Joel, “‘cept come over here.”

Your brows lift coyly, your body sliding out of the chair and into his lap, legs bracketing his strong thighs. His hand finds a home on your lower back, bunching the hem of his shirt up to find your ass bare, your wet cunt sitting nice and pretty on his hard cock. You gasp when the generous length meets your puffy clit with heavy pressure. “Joel…” 

Your voice is a mere whimper, a soft little plea for more, or for mercy. Joel’s always had better restraint than you. 

“Warmer now?” he asks, like a real arrogant asshole, slipping his hand under the shirt on your body and splaying his fingers over your ribcage, thumb grazing the underside of your breast. 

You do feel warmer, crushed up against him like this. You reach behind you and grab your coffee mug, taking a small sip. Your other hand winds around his neck and scratches the tousled hair at the nape of his neck. Joel hums, leaning close, nuzzling his face between your tits. 

“Gimme the list,” he says, voice muffled. 

You keep on stroking his hair and drinking your coffee between list items. “Mow the lawn. Clean out the eavestrough. Fix the sink.”

“Hmm, easy work,” he says, his other hand sliding up and down your back. It makes you melt into him even more, giving him the chance to tease a nipple between his teeth through the fabric of your shirt. You huff, wiggling your hips, but he's a brick wall. He does not budge. “Gimme yours, baby.”

You recall the items on your own list. “Vacuum the house. Go for groceries. Touch up the paint on the front door. Do the laundry. Cook dinner. Cut your hair,” you add with a playful smile. 

Joel frowns against your chest, pulling back to look up into your eyes like a grumpy, needy dog. “You put all that down for yourself?”

You try to placate him with a kiss on his nose. “You work so hard, sweetie. I could use some hard labour once in a while.”

Joel shakes his head. “You aren’t doin’ all that by yourself.”

“No?” You lift your brows. “Wanna buy it off me, Mr. Miller?”

“I’ll win ‘em from you,” he says, tilting his head back to kiss your jaw. “Name the price.”

You bite your lip and chase his mouth, plush and soft under that dark moustache. “I’ll think on that. Meantime, you can get to work on that lawn while I watch from the comfort of the front porch. That sound fair?”

Joel’s old Southern values rear up every now and then, imparted by his mother and his father’s mother before. Putting in an honest day’s work will make his wife comfortable and happy. He doesn't want you lifting a finger around this home if he's perfectly capable of doing the job himself. He works with his hands all day, gets dirty and sweaty. You shouldn't have to—not when you work so damn hard every other day of the week. 

Joel nips your chin. “Fine. But I ain’t gonna forget that I owe you.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, baby.”

Joel finishes his coffee, but you take your time with yours, changing into a short blue sundress while Joel, regrettably, puts a pair of jeans and a shirt on. Curling your legs up on the porch swing, you watch your man start the lawnmower, enthralled by the rippling of his back muscles with every pull. You know that some of it’s for show—knowing you're watching makes him want to impress you. Sometimes, he's still the man with the teenaged crush on the girl, doing everything he can and going out of his way to make you smile. It works. 

He’s methodical: making lines up and down the lawn, shearing away the too-long blades of grass under the motor. As sweat begins to bloom under his collar and his brow, he wipes his forehead with his forearm and you lick your lips, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of running your tongue all over his strong, naked body. Jesus. You finish off your coffee and force your eyes away from your husband for a moment. It isn't too hot from where you sit on the wraparound porch, but your chest feels sticky. 

You rush inside to fill up a glass of water for him, hastily scrubbing your mug clean and putting it back in the cupboard. Maybe you should be occupying yourself with your chores today; you worry nothing will get done if you continue to watch him work in the Texas sun. 

He’s just finishing when you shoulder your way back outside, his neck glistening with sweat and golden noon-hour light, warm and tempting. You set the glass on the railing and wait for him to come your way, squeezing your thighs together as your eyes trail up and down his body. 

He's always been a capable man, broad and tall—so good at his job that he was offered a promotion after a few months. But it isn't just his strength or his doggedness when it comes to getting his work done. It's the way he’s so eager to finish things, to check off the items on your list, to please you. He frowns at the idea of you doing too much work. He parades you around town with a puffed-up chest, as if to announce, This is my wife. I’m her husband and I’m fucking proud. He takes your pleasure so seriously that it feels like a competitive sport—always outdoing himself, always striving for more. He loves selflessly, and yet he loves just selfishly enough to make sure the world knows you're his. 

He’ll be a good daddy.  

You glance down at your belly and let yourself picture it: swollen and round, ballooning big enough to fit a new life inside. You imagine smoothing your hand over a growing bump, Joel’s warm palms feeling the undulating kicks of a little baby inside, half of him and half of you. You picture back aches and swelling feet and insatiable cravings and expended energy. And not a part of it deters you. Not a speck of your willpower wavers, the way it would have mere months ago. 

Something has changed. It may have been gradual and it may have been sudden. But it's new, all the same. It’s been this way since a week ago, when you looked in your nightstand at your little pink pill organiser labelled by weekday, and decided: No more.

Watching Joel make his way back to you, shielding his eyes from the light, you idly place your hand on your belly. Something new. A welcome change, you think, to have someone new sitting at our little table. 

Joel climbs up the steps to the porch and gulps down the glass of water. “Thank you, baby,” he says, wiping his mouth. Your lips part as if to taste the air around him, to chew, to savour, relishing the richness. 

Your pupils expand, taking in more of him, and Joel notices, placing a rough hand over yours where it rests on your belly. “You’re lost in thought, honey. Wanna tell me what's in that pretty head?”

“Just…” Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “Thank you for doing that. I know it's a big job.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” says Joel, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Got any idea how I can win those chores off you?”

Hands grasping your hips, sliding over your sweat-slick spine, saccharine noises slipping from your throat onto your tongue and out into the open air. Fingers imprinting permanent fixtures into your ribs. The heady weight of his big, fat cock wrenching you open, as it always does, slow until it isn't anymore. Desperation kicking in, a switch flipped, pummeling and brutal and unforgiving. Uncompromising. Hips pressed flush to your ass, nothing spilling out. Not a drop. 

Everything sealed in tight as promises are exchanged as whispers in the dark. 

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

All right. You could have been more delicate about it. Not precisely how you wanted to approach the topic, but it seems to get the job done. 

Looking down at you, Joel slowly lowers the empty glass, mouth opening as he searches for words. “What?”

There’s no point in shyness or hesitation. You know your body, your mind, your heart. You thread your fingers through Joel’s and let them stay connected over your stomach. “I want you to give me a baby, Joel Miller,” you say softly, your gaze locked to his. “That's my price.”

Joel swallows thickly, his mouth still gaping. “I heard you,” he rasps. “Just… you… you mean it?”

You try not to melt over the tone of his voice: low, bordering on desperate, wanting. There’s hunger in the sound of it. “We’ve talked about it,” you offer, conciliatory. “Lots of times.”

“Yeah, we have.” Joel steps closer, his eyes dipping from your eyes to your mouth, your throat and collarbones, to your belly. His hand flexes. “You gotta be sure. You gotta know it's what you want.”

You cup his face and give him your best smile. It's the sort of smile he remembers from the very first night you met. The sort of person who is unashamed to show their joy on their face. “Honey, I want it all with you.” Your fingers squeeze his. “We’ve waited so long and I don’t want to wait anymore.”

His ears are ringing. All Joel can do is sweep you into his arms and grin into your throat, his hand firm on the back of your head, curling around a fistful of hair. “Girl of my fuckin’ dreams,” he mumbles against your skin. “I’ll make you a momma. Give you just what you want. Everything you want.”

As you close your eyes and open your ears to his ramblings, your erratic heartbeat settles. Serenity finds the pair of you, locked together on your front porch, and the next part of your life begins. 

“Don’t think this gets us out of doing chores,” you tease. 

“You aren’t gonna lift a goddamn finger,” says Joel fiercely, his lips still littering kisses all over your neck. “You’re havin’ a baby.”

“Honey, I’m not pregnant yet,” you laugh. “I don't need to get all lazy right away.”

“Yeah, you do, and you will. I’m gonna make you the laziest momma in Texas,” says Joel, smiling into your throat, the scratch of his moustache making you dizzy with laughter. “Gonna look so fuckin’ beautiful with a baby in you. Gonna glow like a goddamn firefly. Shit, we need to paint the spare room. I need to build a crib, get time off work—”

“Joel,” you coo, scratching your nails up and down the back of his neck. “We’ll have time to do all of that.”

He pulls back to look down at you, eyes so buttery-soft in the shade of the porch that you impulsively reach for his cheek and run your fingers through his patchy beard. “What’s next on my list?” he asks, holding you around the waist. 

You tap your fingers gently against his cheek as you recite each item over again. Joel’s arms tighten, pulling you closer, pupils widening. 

“And then what?” he says gruffly.  

You beam, and he's so fucking in love that he may keel over, doubled by the intensity of his affection. “And then, you're going to take me to bed and put a baby in me.”

This phenomenon should be studied: how quickly Joel Miller speeds through his chores when he has enough incentive. The anticipation of bending you over on the mattress and wringing every drop of cum from his balls until your stomach swells drives each flick of his hand as he touches up the forest-green paint on the front door, weathered slightly by morning sunlight over the years. The image of his hips pressed flushed to you as he grinds deep, spilling his cum into your womb and forcing it to take, motivates every turn of the steering wheel as he drives you to the grocery store in his clunky Chevy. 

He’ll need to drive to Benny’s, get the suspension fixed up; no way in hell he's going to let his pregnant wife sit on the old bench of a bumpy pickup truck, not with the speed bumps dotting the neighbourhood. At least there's a good preschool nearby. He pictures taking his baby to school and he preemptively feels the inevitable first swoop of dread into his gut knowing he'll have to watch his little girl disappear behind those doors. He knows, somehow, that it’ll be a girl. There's not a doubt in his mind. 

“What are you thinkin’ about?” you ask him, playing with his fingers as he holds your thigh. Joel is a great driver; he steers so easily, one palm sliding smoothly over the wheel, his eyes alert and his speed under control. It’s a little sexy, and it makes you antsy from where you sit on the bench. Sure, there are chores to do and there’s dinner to make, but it’s getting harder to push your innate needs to the back of your mind. You don't know if you can wait all day to get him inside you. 

“Names,” he says. “Got lots of ideas.”

“Yeah? Fire away.” 

“Well, I like Eleanor. Good, strong, classic name, y’know? Little wordy, maybe. Then there's Mary, Marie, Hannah, and I can tell you don't like any of ‘em,” he finishes with a laugh, squeezing your thigh. Your silence has always been a tell.

“They're very sweet names,” you concede, “but they don't feel like my baby.” 

Joel’s hand slides up to your belly and warms you beneath your dress. “Maybe we’ll feel it,” he says, “when we make her.”

“Think it’ll happen on the first try?” you wonder aloud, watching the scenery whiz by outside. It's a sunny, temperate day for Austin. You think about taking your baby for a walk, lounging lazily in a stroller while you say words that fall on deaf ears, but will resonate in due time nonetheless. You think about a little girl that will cling hard to her daddy’s leg when she gets scared of the storms outside, the way you did when you were little. You think about long nights shushing your sweet baby girl to sleep, about those same nights spent nestled into Joel’s body, the three of you dozing idly on the sofa. A unit. 

“If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to try again.” You watch his fingers creep back down between your legs and snap the waistband of your panties. 

You smack his hand. “If you keep playin’, Mr. Miller, you're gonna have to take me right here, in this truck. You want to give your wife a bad back?”

Joel grunts, patting your thigh. “Dirty play.”

“That's what I thought.”

Back at home, Joel vacuums the house while you manage, some-fuckin’-how, to convince him to let you do the laundry. He fishes debris and runoff out of the eavestrough, then gets down on his bad knees to tighten the plumbing underneath the sink. 

“Let me help, sweetie. At least hand you a wrench or something. You'll hurt your back again.”

“I got it,” he grunts from under the sink. “Just a loose pipe. I’m peachy.”

You just sigh and let him carry on, the stubborn bastard. When he stands, the job done, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and you get a generous glimpse of his belly, the trail of dark hair directing your gaze down, down—

“Joel?” you squeak, wringing your hands together. 

He drops the shirt back over his abdomen and steps closer. “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you, um… Are you hungry?” 

He understands the particular glint in your eye, the telltale widening of your pupils, the hollow of your throat dipping as you swallow, your lashes fluttering gently. Blood surges down to his cock and it begins to fill out his jeans at the thought of taking what he's waited for all day. “No,” he says, licking his bottom lip. You eye every minute movement with meticulous precision. “Think dinner can wait.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, crowding him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. He watches you prowl slowly toward him, gaze locked to the heady pull of your eyes. His cock twitches with a vested interest in the body now pressed up against him. Joel cannot look away from the siren now calling him to sea. 

“That so?” he rasps, bunching the fabric of your dress so it rides up your hip and gives him a good look at your panties. “You dressed up all pretty today. For me?”

You're as coy as a flirtatious schoolgirl, trailing your fingers up and down his muscled bicep. “Always for you.”

“That’s right, baby. You like me lots, don't you?”

“Mmm, I do,” you purr, your hand sliding up his abdomen to his chest, admiring the hard planes of his strong body. “So handsome, strong, generous…” You get lost in your exploration, eyes dipping to his throat, your lips instinctively seeking the delectable vein that pulses with every beat of his heart. “Such a good man. Gonna be such a good daddy.”

Joel’s breath shudders out of him when he feels your soft, warm mouth on his neck, indulging in the taste of him. “Jesus,” he croaks, gripping your hips hard. “Jesus, honey, you gotta go easy on me. Lemme take it slow—”

—or I swear to God, I’ll blow a load in my jeans. 

“You wanna undress me?” you say, like a real fucking tease, pulling away and tugging playfully at the straps of your dress. Joel’s nostrils flare, and he’s walking you back into the wall, cupping the back of your head to protect it, and slanting his mouth over yours. 

He’s salty with the sweat that drips from his temples and he still smells of fresh-cut grass. He’s all Joel, all yours, the first gulp of air you breathe in when you wake and the last sigh you exhale before you sleep. 

You moan into his mouth as he parts your lips and dips his tongue between them to taste yours. You taste like mint and coffee and he clutches you tighter, wrinkling the fabric of your pretty little dress in his fist. The sunlight filters through the windows, intrusive, bleeding into the moment as if taking a snapshot. Joel kisses you so deeply that your throat feels stained with the gasps of breath you exchange. 

You're sweet enough that it makes him ache, bending your back to fit you to him, craving more. Closeness is not enough—he needs possession. 

Joel’s kisses are bruising, unforgiving, merciless, but they are also slow, careful. He isn't sloppy; he does precisely what must be done to get you riled. And when he breaks away, his forehead resting against yours, you tug his hair with a pitiful whine. 

“I wasn't done,” you tell him. 

Joel pouts, mocking. Fingers pull at the straps of your dress until you're watching it pool at your feet. His big hands find your tits immediately, squeezing out all his frustrations, tweaking your nipples and lowering his mouth to your throat. 

Your fingers curl into his hair, glueing him to you while he marks your throat, sucking blood to the surface, retribution for the hickeys all over his chest. His warm palms explore your tits the way he likes, and you curve into him, giving him all the access he wants. “Joel, honey—”

Your voice is nectar, warmth from a fire on the Fourth of July, the stomach-cramping laughter around the flame. Joel groans, blindly searching for your hand with his face still nuzzled in your throat, sucking a particularly aggressive bruise that you’ll scold him for later. But he threads his fingers through yours and feels the cool kiss of your twin wedding bands, and your sweet, wispy sighs have him grinding absently against your thigh. You don't have half the mind to get mad at him for a goddamn thing. 

He pulls away with a great yank of his self-restraint, still holding your hand. “C’mon, baby.”

You follow dutifully, staring up at your husband with the same moony eyes you gave him on your wedding day. The third stair creaks a bit, the way it always does. The bedroom door is first on the left, and it's a good fucking thing, because Joel can't wait any longer. 

He walks you to the edge of the bed, stalking, a predator on prey, focused solely on his task. “Goddamn beautiful,” he says to himself, scanning your mostly-naked body and feeling his eyes droop in arousal. 

“Think so?” Your hand drops between your bodies and palms his erection over his jeans. “Yeah, you really think so.”

His nostrils flare. “Sit.”

You lower yourself onto the mattress, primly placing your hands on your thighs and straightening your spine. Joel hums appreciatively, approaching you and slotting himself between your legs. There's a dark wet spot pooling in your panties. “Sweet thing. So needy all fuckin’ day.”

“So were you” is your retort, packing little punch due to the way you push your tits toward him like a fucking whore. 

Joel presses his big, warm hand to your sternum. “Remember what you said to me the first time I got you in bed?”

“‘Let’s go again’?”

“The other thing.”

“'Let me suck your dick’?”

“Try again, baby.”

“‘Wrong hole’?”

Joel snorts, shaking his head. “Goddamn smartass,” he mutters. “Told me you wanted me from that first night. Told me you woulda let me fuck you against that bathroom mirror.”

His hand begins to move, rolling your nipple between his fingers like a cigarette, playing with you the way he likes. “Said you’d let me do whatever I wanted,” Joel says quietly, not meeting your eyes, transfixed by the way your body seeks the touch he gives you. “That still true?”

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” you tell him, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I’m yours, Joel Miller.”

He tilts his head slightly, satisfied. “You got somethin’ you wanna ask me?”

You hook a finger in his belt loop. “Can you get naked now?”

He laughs, guiding your hand to the buckle on his belt. “Go on. Do what you wanna do, baby.”

He belongs to you. He’s yours to mould the way you want. 

Your fingers do away with his belt, whipping it out of the loops and hanging it around your neck. Joel’s hands flex at his sides as you toy with the hem of his shirt, bringing it slowly up his torso with your palms flat to his tanned skin. 

You imagine you're sculpting him like clay, bringing your hands over the contours and admiring the work when all is done. It’s the artist’s pride of finishing the work and none of the self-reproach when something comes out wrong, because it’s Joel, and wrong becomes negligible. 

You bring the shirt over his head with his assistance, lifting his arms for you, tossing the thing aside with little care. His eyes haven't once wavered from you. Next are his jeans, the scrape of his zipper and the delectable anticipation of hooking your fingers in the waistband and guiding them slowly down his hips. 

His cock springs forward, thick and heavy and so hard it must ache, as you shuck his jeans down with his boxers. He grunts above you, his cock bobbing at the sight of your pretty lips parting. But you don’t take him into your mouth. You grasp the base of his cock and gently nuzzle your cheek against his length. Something like a strangled whimper leaves his throat. 

“Baby,” he chokes. 

“Yes, honey?” you say sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Jesus,” he says through his teeth. “You’re so fuckin' sexy. Fuck.”

You hum, slowly stroking your hand up and down as your tongue darts out to lick his balls. Joel’s hips stutter, his hand flying out to catch himself on the bedpost. “Goddamn. Jesus—”

Your coy smile knocks him askew, your lips pursing as you spit on the head of his cock, spreading your own saliva around the tip with your thumb. “I just wanna thank you”—a soft kiss to the tip has a rumbling groan crawling out of his throat—“for everything you do for me. I just want you to know how much I love you.”

Joel exhales hard, struggling to remember how breathing works when he's got his wife playing with his cock like it's your favourite toy. “How much do you love me?” he demands. 

You wrap your fingers around the head of his cock and twist your hand up and down his shaft in a couple slow strokes. You're driving him fucking crazy. His vision is whiting out. 

“I love you,” you purr, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his length. Joel’s chest is heaving with the effort of holding back. “Love you so much. Love you enough to make you a daddy.”

Joel caves, threading his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck and stroking his thumb along your jaw. “Fuck, baby. Please…”

“Do you love me?” Batting your lashes, you scatter measured kisses from his tip to the base, teasingly licking his balls. 

“Christ, I—” His hips jut forward instinctively. “I love you. Fuckin’ love you, baby.”

You flick your tongue against his slit and relish his groan, revelling in the sight of his flushed chest, his pink cheeks, the sweat on his brow. His jaw is tense, his nostrils flaring. He’s trying not to take control. 

You slap his cock twice on your tongue and finally take it past your lips, sealing your mouth over the head. Joel moans, white-knuckling the bedpost, his other hand now stroking your hair. You fondle his balls in your free hand while the other grips him at the base, and he’s going to come embarrassingly soon if you keep looking up at him this way. 

Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock while your lips seal tight, greedily suckling at his tip. Oversensitive, skin prickling with salty sweat, Joel practically breathes through his teeth. “Gonna kill me,” he manages. “You’re gonna kill me, honey.”

“Mmmm,” you reply, happily taking him deeper, his length sliding along the warm wetness of your tongue. Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair. 

“Fuuuuck. You love this cock.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Love takin' me into your mouth like a little slut.”

“Mmmmph,” you agree, pushing your tits out. 

His hand drifts down to the belt hanging around your neck and he wraps his fist around both ends, tugging so you’re forced to take him deeper. You splutter, breathing hard through your nose, your arousal dripping onto the mattress. 

The sloppy sounds of your mouth working his cock send his head spinning. Drool dribbles from the corners of your lips, your eyes squeezing black tears from dewy lashes. And when you take him down your throat, the sound of your choked moan leaves Joel with little choice but to pull out before he comes. 

You whine, squeezing your thighs together. He swipes his thumb underneath your eye and shows you the black smudge from your mascara. “Doesn't take much to get you cryin’. You like me that much?”

You bite your bottom lip and beam up at him. “Did I do okay?”

Your faux-innocence makes his dick twitch in your face, and you flick your tongue out to lick at the tip once more. Joel grunts, grasping his belt and tossing it away. 

“‘Did I do okay,’” he murmurs, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “Got no idea after all these years. No idea what you do to me.”

“I just wanna take care of my man. He works so hard, you know, keeping me safe and happy.” You run your hand over his soft belly, the trail of hair that leads down to his cock. “He’s always liked to give me things.”

Joel backs you farther up the bed and crawls over your body, lowering his head to bury his face in your throat. You smell fresh and sweet as vanilla, and when he playfully bites into your skin, your saplike laugh has him grinding helplessly against your thigh. 

He loves to give—always has. It’s all he knows. It took a long while for you to get him to unlearn some of his blind selflessness, to let you take control sometimes and care for him instead. Your Joel provides; he does not take. And the prospect of getting to give his wife a baby is turning him to putty in your hands. By the time he gets to work, he’ll be dead-set on his task, hard-pressed to pull out of you. He’ll want to get the job done on his first try, refusing to see you upset if the test comes back negative, but the id will still scratch and claw for another chance to fill you up. 

Joel sucks a hickey into your neck and soothes the mark with his tongue, the slow, soft pleasure compounded by the way his warm body covers you, your fingers carding through his locks. 

Your voice oozes, honeyed, down his spine. “I love you, Joel.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and crushes his nose in your throat, his hand smoothing down your hair. “I love you.”

“You want to make a baby?”

He rears back slightly, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah. I really fuckin’ do.”

You grin, lacing your fingers together at the back of his neck. “Will you fuck me? Please?”

Joel brushes his thumb across your chin. “Use your words.”

“I want to be a mom, Joel.” You give him a long, gooey stare, eyes warm and soft as running water. A look like that will make a man give you the goddamn galaxy. 

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. “I know, baby. I’ll help you. Hands and knees, now.”

The gentle direction moulds your body to the shape of the words. You go easily, your back arching as you rest your weight on your forearms and spread your thighs. The bed dips behind you as Joel settles in, his hands grasping your ass and making you jump. 

Your body trembles with excitement. You’re going to be a mom. He's going to get you pregnant. You feel dizzy, bending deeper at the hips and shaking your ass at him, deluded with your own arousal. 

But Joel doesn't fuck you right away. No, he bumps up against the backs of your thighs, warm hands branding your skin, and rubs two fingers over the wet spot darkening your panties. 

“I do this to you?” he says smugly. 

“You know damn well—”

“Wanna hear you say it.” The no-nonsense command triggers a submissive response. “Who did this to you?”

Your body melts against him, presenting your pussy to him like a needy whore. “You, Joel. It’s you, baby. Only you.”

Your babbling makes him squeeze handfuls of your ass, spreading your asscheeks apart to get a good glimpse of the way your pussy drools into your panties. Shuffling backward and lowering himself to his knees on the floor, Joel’s tongue darts out and licks you through your underwear. 

“Ohh, fuck!” you gasp. “Joel…”

He hums, tasting your tang through the fabric and finding your puffy clit, sucking gently. You cry out, your fingers grasping the sheets, and Joel moves your panties aside to slather his spit all over your dripping pussy. The languorous movements of his tongue are indulgent, achingly slow; he loves the taste of you as much as you enjoy having his mouth on your cunt. 

“Oh my God, Joel… fuck, honey, please—!”

Your thighs are trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up, the strokes of his tongue turning your muscles to soup. He stops to take your panties off, guiding them off your legs, and by now, you're so wet that your juices glisten halfway down your thighs. Joel dives back in and licks up the rivulets of arousal from your skin, all the way back up to your weeping hole. 

“So goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, kneading your ass in his hands as he flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times. 

“Joel, I’m…” You’re drooling, grinding pathetically into his face, already close to an orgasm, and he isn't fucking letting up. 

He wants you as wet and needy as possible, his own cock leaking onto the bedsheets at the prospect of sliding into your creamy pussy. 

Your cheeks burn and your muscles lock as Joel makes out with your pussy, his tongue laving over your pearl in slow, aching circles. He drowns in the pleasure of making you feel good. He soaks himself in kerosene and lights the match. 

“Oh, fuck!” Your thighs shake around his head and your toes curl, ears ringing with the force of your high. Grasping feebly at the bedsheets, you try not to list, but Joel isn’t fucking stopping, cleaning you up with his tongue like you're a piece of goddamn pie. 

His fingers dig into your ass, rapacious as his mouth, and you climb high to a space that transcends the sky, feeling nothing but the linen underneath and the man above, softly kissing your poor, used clit. 

He doesn’t let up until you reach back and gently shove his head away, grasping his damp curls. “Baby, let me rest,” you gasp, “just for a second.”

Regretfully, he pulls away, pressing a kiss to each knob of your spine, dragging his nose up your back. “‘m so fuckin’ lucky,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“Lucky you didn’t kill me.” You laugh breathlessly, your hips already sore from keeping your ass in the air. 

“Makin’ sure you’re ready,” he says innocently, sliding his thick fingers through your slit. You gasp, trying to escape his grasp despite yourself. He just clicks his tongue in reproach. “Nuh-uh, baby. You're gonna stay right here, let me make it good for you. Hmm? Wanna feel good?”

You nod your head frantically. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Wanna be good.”

“Mmm, now, you know that ain't your job tonight,” he says in a mock scold. In the meantime, his fingers soak themselves in your wetness. “Don't think you're ready for me yet.”

“No! No, I’m ready,” you pant, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts, holding your hip in place. “Baby, please, I’m ready for you. Need you so badly.”

“Shhh, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Just be patient.” Hands smooth over your ass, between your thighs, and then two fingers are teasing your hole. Joel tilts his head to watch the way he spreads your folds wide. “Gonna fill this up.”

A strangled noise spills from your mouth, your cheeks burning hot at the way he exposes you so tenderly. “Please,” you croak, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow. 

He grasps himself and teases the already-wet head of his cock over your pussy, spurting precum onto your hole. “You want a baby?” he asks, low and dark. You luxuriate in the velvet-soft tone. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want a baby,” you whisper, “please. Please give me a baby.”

He readies himself at your tight cunt and the excitement briefly overcomes him, forcing his hips forward and pushing past the wet, gummy seal of your pussy. You gasp, held in place by his hand on your hip. 

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“I want to make you a daddy!” you sob. “I want to have your baby and make you a daddy.”

“You want to be a momma?” he says through his teeth, tunnel vision narrowing his focus to the way he slowly guides himself into you, wrenching you open. At this angle, with how wet you are, the glide is delicious, white-hot, his balls heavy with the need to empty inside you. “That it? Want everyone to know who put a fuckin’ baby in you?”

Your husband is so fucking big, so strong, and the way he pins your body down feels close to primal. “Yes! Yes, Daddy, yes! I want to be a momma. Please give me a baby.”

The words put a chisel to his self-restraint and crack down. He’s gone, baring his teeth, pulling your hips toward him and impaling you on his cock, relishing the give of your tight walls and the way he sits snug against your cervix. You mewl, reaching back to find a purchase on his hip. “Joel, fuck…”

He establishes a punishing pace, driving your body farther up the bed with every thrust. “That’s it,” he groans, sliding his palm up your spine. “Gonna look so goddamn beautiful with a baby in you. You were fuckin’ made to take this cock.”

Your moan is syrupy and pitched low, your cheek buried in the mattress, letting him fill you up again, again, again—

“I’ll get you fuckin’ pregnant,” continues Joel, panting through his words, sweat beading on his brow as he runs his hands over your skin. “Stuff you so goddamn full you'll always feel me.”

“Uhhh!” you moan, fisting the sheets, your body practically folded in half to accommodate your husband’s huge body, his thick cock.

Joel wants this, too—has for a long time. It’s hard not to notice the little details. He places his hand on your belly when he isn't even paying attention, his lips finding the soft skin there when he first wakes in the morning. You knew he would have dropped everything to give you a baby the second you demanded it, but you realise you may have underestimated his need. 

Joel is growling like a dog, sweat dripping from his temples and back pinching with effort as he holds your body close, glueing you to him, his cock reaching deep, deliberate, mind going numb, intent the only tangible feeling he can grasp onto. Intent and the white-hot drag of his cock against your walls. 

You’re going to grow swollen and round with his baby. He will watch your tits grow heavy, your belly bulge, your cheeks take on a ruddy, dewy glow, the telltale mark of his success, his devotion. He’ll wake up every morning wrapped in the scent of your body, your hormones, his palm finding sanctuary on your soft, warm belly. He’ll bury his face in your throat and you’ll smile and the sun will warm the golden spot where a new life grows. 

Fuck, he’ll never let you do laundry again. You could hurt your back. 

Your head spins at the wet slap of his balls against your clit, the obscene squelch of your pussy around his impressive length, the way he grabs at you. He’s greedy, hands mapping each rib, each vertebrae, every curve and contour that makes you. 

Your pussy sucks him in, just as needy, breathless moans and squeals punching out of your throat as you croak out pleas: Joel, baby, please. I want a baby so badly. Wanna have your baby. Please, please, fill me up! And Joel listens, his palm sliding around your waist and down your belly, rubbing your sensitive clit with two fingers. 

A real man gives his wife everything she wants. 

He moans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, his fingers wet and insistent against your little clit, coaxing you toward your climax. “C’mon,” he grunts, “come for me, baby. Fuckin’ choke me. Wanna feel it. Come and I’ll give you the baby you want so goddamn bad. C’mon, baby.”

His words seep into your bloodstream, an uncontrollable tremor racking your body, your arms giving out as he bends over you and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Ohhhh, God! Oh my—!” 

Joel’s hands squeeze your tits, his entire body covering yours, a warm, protective blanket, slick with sweat and heart thundering against your back. His lips are on your skin, feverishly kissing and nipping. You can’t breathe, can’t move, and it feels so fucking good. You soak his cock, muscles seizing, pinned down by his strong body. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans. “That’s it, baby. Goddamn, keep on squeezin’ me like that. Not gonna leave this tight pussy until you're fuckin’ pregnant.”

“Joelllll,” you whine, your orgasm prolonged by his words, his unrelenting thrusts, the jolt of his balls slapping your clit. “Want it so bad. Wanna give you a baby. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, God—”

The broken sound of your voice, weak and raspy, goes straight to his dick, and his balls are pulling up, his head bombarded with the smell of sex, perfume, linen, you. He rests his forehead between your shoulder blades as you milk his cock, turning his thrusts sloppy and desperate. He needs to come. He needs to make it real. 

Your orgasm leaves you pliant and loose in his arms, and he fondles your tits, squeezing them hard in his hands as he pictures them growing, swelling heavy with milk he’ll feed your baby. His baby. Idly, you moan, letting him use your body to get off, his teeth grazing your neck. 

“Gonna come. Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, give you a baby. Gonna—Jesus, goddamn—”

Maybe it's the pent-up frustration of not having come all day. Maybe it's a renewed sense of purpose, knowing he's got a job to do, keeping every drop safe inside you. Maybe it's the sheer fucking excitement of getting to give his wife what he's wanted to put in you for so long. But when he comes, hips flush to your ass, he comes so much, for so long, that the rapid rush of blood from his cock back up to his head has him nearly keeling. 

Kissing your cervix, the head of his cock spurts rope after rope of hot cum inside you, and you mewl, your back arching to deepen the angle, luxuriate in the liquid warmth. Joel isn’t so loud now, not so cocky. He’s reduced to strained groans and whimpers as your body depletes him, greedily taking every drop of cum he has to offer. 

It feels like minutes before it finally stops, but with your ass up in the air, none of his cum spills out. Your hips are sore, your ass bruises from his hands, your tits still sitting warmly in his hands. The cool kiss of his wedding band soothes the too-hot press of his body on top of yours, your doubly-slick skin meeting indecently. His lips are on the back of your neck and he thrusts shallowly, wringing the last of his cum from the tip until he's wholly empty and bordering on oversensitive. 

You're the first to speak, your throat clogged with drool and some of your own tears. 

“Thank fuck I was at the bar that night.”

Joel’s laugh scrapes down your spine along with his beard as he drags himself upright, knowing he’s crushing you. “Never would've had to patch me up”

“Mmm, you're sexy when you're mad,” you point out, your thighs twitching as he carefully guides you onto your side, back to his chest, his cock still acting as a plug for his cum. You’re deliciously full, and you hum happily at the feeling of his warm belly against you, his big arms cradling you close. 

“Shouldn't enable violence,” he grumbles. His lashes flutter against your shoulder. 

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please.”

He chuckles. “You feel okay?”

“I feel good,” you muse, running your fingers along his forearm, the prominent veins under his skin. “I feel excited.”

His grin curves against your skin, the scratch of his moustache sending a shiver up your spine. Outside, the sun begins to dip, and your twin golden rings glimmer in the fiery light. 

“Me, too,” he whispers, and you lace your fingers through his, squeezing, both of you practically giddy. 

There’s a lull, and for a moment, you think he’s fallen asleep. The sun creeps behind a home across the street, and its watch ends for another day. 

“Hey, Joel?”

His mouth meets your throat in a sleepy kiss. “Yeah, baby?”

“I like the name Sarah.”

THE END.

tags: @cavillscurls @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @cupofjoel @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelmillers-whore @bastardmandennis - thank you all so so much for showing excitement for this fic!! kisses for you all 🫶

[angelltheninth]

Jjk bfs when their s/o passed out after an intimate session????????? LOVE UR WORKS BTW!!!🫶🫶🫶

Thank you for loving my works, I've been in a little bit of a slump lately but I'm glad people are enjoying my writing.

Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Toji x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, passing out, aftercare, rough sex, teasing, clit stimulation, kissing, cuddles, showering together

A/N: Actually curious, how much does it take for this to happen? Or is it a stamina thing?

YUUJI

Gets a little bit spooked that you passed out on him because he knows you have more stamina then that. But he wants to make sure you're okay so he starts kissing you awake, very slowly so you don't get startled. Still he can't help but smile when you blink up at him, all groggy and still trying to shake the orgasmic bliss. Just be glad that he didn't start laughing because he can't deny that it was a bit funny.

SUKUNA

Doesn't care that you passed out, he fucks you right back into waking up and orgasming on his dick again. If he fucked you so hard that every thought left your head like that that must mean you're really enjoying his cock inside you like this. But what about two? Sensitive as you are you're bound to come as soon as he puts them in. Are you gonna break for him then? He hopes not, there's still a lot he wants to do.

MEGUMI

Tries to avoid making this awkward for you so he pulls out slowly and puts a blanket over you. You're sleeping soundly so you must be okay, still he leaves his dogs to watch over you until he gets you some water. Don't feel embarrassed over what happened, he won't make fun of you, but maybe you have to be more careful from now on, he doesn't want you passing out on him every time you have sex.

GOJO

Has the dumbest grin on his face when you wake up. He's no longer hard but he still wants to tease you. Look how easily he makes your hips jolt upwards when his fingers rub over your clit, fucking adorable. And what about that cum spilling from your pussy? That needs to get cleaned up. Luckily it won't be his tongue, he doesn't want to make you pass out again. But... don't be angry, he did take a picture of it.

NANAMI

Kisses you on the forehead and lets you wake up on your own while he gets the shower ready. Usually you always shower together after and that's not gonna change just because you're passed out. The moment you start to stir he takes you in his arms, gives you a kiss on the lips and whispers to you to wake up. By the time you open your eyes you're already in the bathroom. If you can you may keep your legs around him while you shower, he'll support you.

GETO

Bursts out laughing so loud that it wakes you up pretty soon. He's... not sorry at all, that was amazing but he didn't know his dick was that good. Way to inflate his ego. Don't worry , he's not gonna tell anyone, as much as he would like to. Now then, how about something to drink? After passing out you have to hydrate yourself, and after coming so hard, that may have been a factor too. Then you can cuddle.

TOJI

Lets you know that he will be telling everyone about this. If you want to buy his silence you better offer something good. Before that though he should really make sure you're still in one piece, or else how will you convince him. His fingers will do. Spread your legs, let him have a look, let him feel his cum and your sensitive walls around his digits. Looks like everything is fine, you should be good to go again.

[tender-rosiey]

1am thoughts, thinking about Gojo introducing kid Megumi to his newborn baby and Megumi being protective of them and even calling them his little sister/brother at one point and gojo is running LAPS he's just overwhelmed and happy over a small yet powerful phrase.

to protect — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this is so cute i am gonna cry also megumi is like 11-12 here

you’re finally back home, after a long day at the hospital. you’re finally engulfed in the comfort of your bed while your husband is still sat up with his little girl bundled in his arms.

he hasn’t let go of her since you have been discharged.

“’toru, honey, you have to sleep soon; you can hold her tomorrow,” you sleepily murmur to your husband.

he nods and whispers, “I know. It’s just I—I can’t believe it’s real,” he kisses her forehead softly, “that she is finally here, our little princess.”

a tired smile makes its way to your lips. you hum in understanding, gently caressing his cheek. he sighs happily, before looking at you, “but you, missy, actually need to rest. you’ve had a long day.”

you frown and he chuckles, and his hand moves to stroke your hair, “rest, pretty. you were a champion today,” you move to nuzzle closer to his side and your arm wraps around his torso.

and so his little girl is comfortably nestled in one of his arms, while the other is wrapped around you so his hand can pet your head lovingly.

satoru truly feels like he is holding the world in his hands right now.

suddenly, the door slowly creaks open and a very familiar face peaks from it. satoru chuckles, “come in, megumi; they’re both asleep anyway.”

the boy carefully pads his way to gojo.

he is so used to seeing him being all goofy and unserious, so it catches him a bit off-guard how serene and quiet he is being right now. megumi looks at the sleeping baby then whispers, “what’s her name?”

“d/n,” satoru answers fondly.

megumi nods then observes her for a small while, “she really is a perfect mix between the both of you.”

a soft and quiet laugh escapes satoru’s lips, “you’re right,” he looks up at megumi with a grin, “you wanna hold her?”

the boy is taken back and his expression betrays him as nervousness takes over his face. his eyes don’t leave the girl and his gaze is more than troubled, “…what if I hurt her?”

satoru shakes his head, “you scared? she is my daughter; she is the strongest baby ever,” he grins, “no one can hurt her.”

megumi rolls his eyes, but quickly directs his focus to the little girl. he takes a moment, before he extends his arms. satoru gently places her in his arms. megumi’s hold on her is protective, and he doesn’t look as awkward as satoru thought he would.

actually, he is quite the natural.

he gently rocks her, and he can’t help but smile at her sleeping face. megumi whispers to her, “hi there.”

she coos at him, and starts swaying his arms around. she slowly opens her eyes, and a tiny smile appears on her chubby face. megumi’s eyes widen a little, and he immediately looks at gojo, “she is smiling.”

satoru laughs, “she is a very smiley baby, but i think she likes you a lot. she only smiled at y/n and me,” he feels you stir a bit in your sleep.

he pulls you closer and rubs your shoulder then he giggles at how quickly you fall back asleep. while satoru is occupied by you, megumi is staring in awe at little miss gojo.

later, satoru wakes up in the middle of the night to check on his little girl in the adjacent room. he groggily gets up, after kissing your forehead. he walks there, and when he finally reaches the room, he notices the lights are already on, and the door is left a bit open.

he peaks a little into the room, and sees megumi standing by the crib. he is fondly looking at d/n, and gently petting her head. he is whispering something to her, but satoru is still able to hear it all the same.

“don’t grow up to be annoying like your dad, please.”

satoru scowls, and contemplates bursting into the room, and bullying the hell out of megumi. however, he ultimately decides against it. he doesn’t end up regretting the decision.

megumi gently boops her nose, “you’re like a little sister to me now, so I promise to protect you.”

she squeals and makes grabby hands at him, and he chuckles, “you believe me, huh?”

satoru slowly backs away from the door and walks away. when he is a safe distance from the door, he starts running and bursts into your shared room.

he dramatically falls to the ground, “that was… the cutest thing ever! after d/n and y/n’s smiles, of course.”

he stands up, proudly. his heart is at ease as he now knows that there is yet another person to look after his baby girl, if something happens. a content grin is on his face as he enjoys the silence and comfort. it’s short lived, as always.

a pillow is thrown at his face, and he stumbles to the ground.

“that’s for waking me up, satoru!”

“noooo, baby, I am sorry!”

“uh—,” megumi awkwardly stands at the door, holding d/n up, “guys, she pooped.”

satoru grins, and excitedly stands up—with a camera that he got out of nowhere to take photos of her—he coos, “aww! your first shit, pretty girl? what a good girl!”

megumi places her on the changing table beside your bed. the smell of her great ‘achievement’ fills the door, and he takes the chance of gojo being distracted to run out of the room, before another nuclear explosion drops.

the girl is gleefully clapping upon seeing her dad, and he reciprocates the smile tenfold. he gently holds her feet and sways them slightly, “such a big girl, already pooping!”

“want daddy to change your diapers for you?” he coos and the girl just puts her thumb in her mouth and starts kicking her feet. he chuckles and slowly opens the diaper. he is met with the vilest smell, and he can’t believe his sweet daughter can produce such smells.

however, he quickly composes himself, and tries to make his way through the travail of changing the diaper. he proves to be too weak because he, after a moment, looks at you, “uh, babe, teamwork makes the dream work?”

you groan, falling back to the bed.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[screampied]

Not sure if this is too specific but I NEED top geto that lets fem!reader top him just for once thinking reader would fail but geto immediately gets humbled !!! Not to mention geto is definitely very very vocal !!!!🤭

❤︎ ໋𓈒 cocky geto find the idea of you topping him adorable but he soon gets humbled quickly

warnings. fem! reader, cowgirl, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, unprotected sex, choking geto, mdni.

“baby, are ya sure,” he’d hum with a coy grin, leaning back against the cushioned sofa. he had the look is pure amusement plastered on his face. his tone and the way he structured his tone to make himself tease you even further made you lightly pout. with a hand gripped against your waist, he runs a thumb against your bare skin. “you…you wanna ride me?”

“you don’t think i can?” you furrow your eyebrows, just barely hovering over him. geto has a free arm stretched against the edge of the couch, eyeing you up and down with a sly grin.

he swiftly shakes his head. “i’m not saying that baby, i jus’ think it’s cute.”

“cute.” you repeat, giving him a brief deadpan before you start to align yourself. you intake a breath…feeling his leaky tip marginally brush against your entrance. geto liked getting underneath your skin whenever he could, but you wanted to show him how wrong he was.

geto snickers at your reaction, softly grazing his thumb repeatedly down your side before he murmurs in a soft raspy tone, “prove me wrong then.”

“i’m going to, suguru. so shut up and lie the fuck back.”

“y-yes ma’am.” he suddenly stammers, feeling your hand lightly go around his throat. you slowly rock forward against him, and geto leans back, getting turned on from the grip you had.

his back leans against the cushion before he stares at you, a sudden cold sweat running down him metaphorically. “shit, you’re serious?”

and despite everything, he still had a coy grin poking against his lips. the feeling of your hand that went around his neck, it made his dick twitch a bit. you choking him briefly. adding just a bit of pressure, you drag a thumb, rubbing up against his adam’s apple. “i like your confidence princess, but—”

“suguru,” you grumble, and the moment you start to sink down on his thick base, he lets off a grunt. in the midst of your pussy taking him fully, you move your hips forward a bit—a quick jerk to make him eat his words. geto’s head goes back, feeling your hand still around his neck.

“if—if you’re gonna choke me, at least do it harder princess.” he grunts, a left hand of his snaking towards your ass. you nearly slip off a moan, remembering how handsy he was. he grips your ass before giving it a light spank.

a brat even till the very end.

with a swift eyeroll, murmuring a, “fine,” you squeeze his neck a little bit tighter — geto looks so pretty underneath you.

once you start up a rhythmic pace, his groans become more vocal. the grip your cunt made against him had him nearly in shambles.

geto’s smirk never fades. you start to grind against him in such a way that he just can’t shut himself up.

he’s balls deep, stirring up your insides to where you lean right up against his chest to nip near his neck. soft chaste kisses.

“fuckkk, good. kiss my neck, jus’ like that.” and his voice, it was a pitchy low. a bit of rasp underneath it, he continued to pause every few seconds to swallow and he’s panting.

heavily…

the way your skin slaps and clouts ruthlessly on his thigh turns him on entirely so.

the recoil of your ass—geto was forevermore a handsy man. he’d run and trace his fingertips on your skin, low husky grunts skidding past his spit-glossed lips each second.

he loved grabbing your ass as it fucked back against him. you studied his facial expressions. such a pretty man. his hair was a mess, it wasn’t tied up so strands just went all across his face as you rode him. purely occluding his vision.

“…mhm, you’re such a tease,” he murmurs, feeling you start to playfully suck on his neck. geto’s thigh starts to bounce idly in the background and you press your hands on his chest.

he had an abashed expression, eyes half-lidded, and speaking of eyes…his dark irises, they were dilated. all because of you.

his pretty girl that was making him eat his words up. he catches you starting before scoffing.

“f-fuckkk me,” he huffs out, feeling you vigorously clamp down on him again and again. it had him dizzy, mind unintentionally spasming,

your perfume scent making his heart race. “grippin’ me so tight, ‘s no fair.”

massaging the middle part of his neck, you lean in to kiss geto.

he returns the gesture, his tongue moving against yours and he moans. it’s more of a whiny moan if anything. jerking your hips slightly, he squeezes a hand against your waist—huffing and puffing.

he felt a bundle of nerves surge all through him. the way you moved back and forth against him, a groan gets caught in his throat and before he knew it, he starts to feel himself coming close. that quick.

“y-you’re gonna,” he breathes, his chest kept heaving and heaving..

geto’s bare chest, a few dark hairs of chest hair decorating his skin. you hum, dragging a finger down his chest, giving his perky nipples a playful pinch to watch him whine. “gonna make me cum too quick, s-shit.”

“what happened to your confidence, sugu?” you mutter, keeping up a pace. you start to quicken a bit to where he can barely keep up.

geto could barely register anything, his mind—it was ditzy. thinking of nothing but the way you pussy soaked down on him, clenching stupidly around his cock. “you said i couldn’t ride you, baby.”

“you still can’t,” he pants, trying to keep up his façade but you could literally hear from his tone.

he was so close to the edge. feeling you play with his nipples, geto bites his tongue. “i-im sensitive there, woman… you’re so f-fuckkk..”

you smile, nipping near his neck again before he groans—eyes rolling back, he gnaws on lip as he feels his orgasm unsteadily approaching.

your hips, the rhythm it had made him so woozy. he wanted more, he brings you in for a kiss again, and you move some of his long strands from his hair.

geto shivers, feeling you ride against him faster before within seconds…it happens.

he shoots right inside your gummy walls, a raspy groan departs from his lips once he feels himself pouring right into your cunt. dumping such a thick loud, you slow down your hips to stare at geto.

“don’t… don’t look at me.” he retorts, a near pout going against his lips. he wasn’t use to this, you getting the higher up on him.

you giggle, pressing a plethora of kisses near his nose at how he came too early. he grunts, the second you inch closer towards him, his dick that was still inside you twitched. pumped so full, you felt him coat your walls with every drop. “give… gimme another kiss, i need it.”

“you don’t need a kiss, geto,” you tease, being more of a chaff by refusing for a second.

as you moved closer towards his lips. he lets off a needy whine, his glossed lips were so trembly. he wanted more of your taste… so much. “if you want it that bad, just say pretty please.”

his eyes narrow at you, still letting off breathy pants before replying with a grouchy. “…no.”

“then you’re not getting a kiss.” you snicker with a shrug, watching the pout go against his lips again.

it was cute, seeing him try to keep up this bratty act. but not even seconds later, he deeply sighs with an adorable half eye roll. “okay, okay…. um. give me a kiss. pretty please. f-fuck, i want you.”

“good boy,” you mutter, giving him a quick kiss that he barely blinks. he wants more of you.

geto’s face flushes hard from the sudden pet name, and he groans once he feels you reach down towards his dick still perfectly buried inside you. you realign yourself, giving him another long kiss before briefly departing, softly uttering a, “now lie back, baby. ‘m not finished.”

“this…doesn’t mean anything by the way,” he tries to elucidate, yet shuts up the moment you softly wrap your hand around his neck. geto leans back, going manspread before with a pant, he smiles—still a brat. “but.. do your worst, baby. finish fucking me then. if you can, h-heh.”

[startears0153]

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile. 

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure. 

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes. 

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep. 

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow. 

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name. 

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?” 

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort. 

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his. 

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory. 

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics. 

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin. 

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes. 

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return. 

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core. 

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems. 

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake. 

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.” 

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say, 

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds. 

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream. 

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you. 

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition … 

… Only to find you crying in your sleep. 

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue. 

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.” 

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out. 

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms. 

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.  

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory. 

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk. 

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed. 

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else. 

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes. 

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers. 

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!” 

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more. 

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder. 

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.” 

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same. 

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

[goosita]

coriolanus snow is not a good man— he watches you from afar, eyes like a hawk and plush bottom lip pulled between his teeth. he doesn’t know if he’s being obvious and he doesn’t particularly care. he feels his teeth clench when you laugh and chat with other men, something hot and unpleasant stirring below his ribs. it should be him that makes you giggle like that, makes your nose scrunch like a little bunny rabbit at a joke. jealousy stings and he finds himself having cruel thoughts about things he wishes would happen to those other boys.

coriolanus snow is not a good man— but you speak to him so kindly, so softly. he’s never once mentioned anything about his home life, careful to keep up his facade. but you? you notice the way his cheeks are hollow, the way his belt has extra notches punched into it to tighten further. you wordlessly slide him a granola bar in class and pretend you don’t hear the way his stomach gasps the way he refuses to let his mouth do. you bring him a tin of cookies you “had leftover” the night before, filled with chocolate chips and butter that will bring his calorie count for the day up. he doesn’t say thank you, but the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards and his gaze softens when you pass him a pastry under the school desk is enough thanks for you.

coriolanus snow is not a good man— his hands shake sometimes, when he remembers the way sejanus had cried for him to help at the hanging tree. when he remembers the sound of his only friend’s neck snapping and echoing, the way it sent chills down his spine and he felt like vomiting. he did that. he killed sejanus. he is a murderer, and yet you still brush his hair back in the middle of the night. its starting to grow again, pale locks falling over his brow. he is a murderer, and you still kiss his temple. you still whisper that you love him, that he’ll be okay.

coriolanus snow is not a good man— the sore in his mouth aches, a necessary evil to ensure your safety. he’d had no other choice, that senator from 2 was eyeing you all evening at dinner. for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t let it get to him. he’s a president now, not some unhinged teenage boy. but the way that man had touched you, let his fingers linger at your waist, that would simply not do. you are the first lady of panem, you were untouchable. to anyone but him, of course. as you pass by him where he sits, you tut softly and pause to brush the blood off his lip, licking the red fluid off your own fingertip and dropping a kiss to his head. you remind him to be careful.

but coryo is good to you— he touches you so carefully, hands so gentle. his fingertips are always cold, but it never bothers you. not when they brush against your hairline, his palms cradling your cheeks as he kisses you like a man starved. not when they graze the bare skin of your back, your chest flush with his as his lips make their way down your neck. not when they squeeze at your hips, your thighs splayed out around his own waist and trembling with the way he pushes his cock up into you. not when they caress your cheek in the morning, his soft whispers of “good morning, sweetheart,” echoing in your ears.

coriolanus snow is not a good man. but he is your man.