#AND HER ARMS WHEW | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lolasky · 20 days

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ HEY DADDY!

[ ᯓ★ ] meeting their future child with you when you're not even dating yet | fem!reader | fluff, humour (at some point), a teeny tiny bit of angst on usopp's one, foul language (just koro saying an 'ass') ꩜ | wc. 4.7k — approx. 1k each |

not said, but kazuki is 4, koro is 8, nyla is 6 and heaven is 11

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤL U F F Y

he'd be so confused once he saw a little boy just like him. not just in appearance, but with his whole energy. once he learned and accepted the fact that the boy – who was his mini version, the crew couldn't even doubt – was his son, he refused to give him back to his timeline.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ☆ ]

the straw hat crew has just docked at an island so they could get some supplies before getting back to sailing.

"okay, so, sanji and i are going to get some food," you tell, waiting for sanji to get out of the kitchen with the list.

"robin and i are going shopping!" nami says excitedly. "are you sure you don't wanna go with us instead with... him...?" she points to the blonde cook, who was lighting up another cigarette.

"i wanna go too!" luffy yells from inside, running to the deck, where the crew were at.

"you. stay." the navigator says through her teeth. "we'll be quick and don't need any trouble. you stay with zoro and watch the ship."

luffy pouted, watching his crew get down from the ship. he looked at zoro, thinking if he could pest him a little, but soon the swordsman brushed him off saying "i'm gonna sleep. if you make any noise or cause some trouble, i'm gonna slice you in three."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

nami and robin were getting out of another store with more bags, chatting about random things when a kid bumped into them and fell.

"oh, i'm sorry, little one..." robin drops her bags and kneels in front of the little boy, offering her hand to help him stand up, but as soon as she sees his lips quivering and his eyes starting to get wet, she worries.

the little boy stretched his arms out to her, asking silently to be picked up and so she did.

"where are your parents, little boy?" nami asks in a soft tone, watching him getting comfortable in robin's arms.

"and what's your name?" the archaeologist drops the second question.

the kid gazed at the woman, lips quivering again and his voice trembling when he asked "you... you don't rwemember my name aunt lobin?"

nami gave her a weird look. she was as confused as robin. watching the little one in her arms closer, he reminded her of someone. the messy black hair, the big round eyes, the pout. why the hell does this kid look so much like luffy? robin seemed to notice the same thing as her.

"okay... so... what about we look for your parents, huh? and you can tell me your name 'cause i love hearing you say it!" the older woman says, eliciting a big smile from the boy. nami coughed immediately.

"can we go to the shwip? i'm sure they are thewe!" he holds the women's hands and pulls them in any direction.

it sure made the navigator and the archaeologist even more confused because how did he know they had a ship? and why would his parents be there?

"so, sweetheart, tell me your name?" robin asks once again.

"oh! i'm kazuki!" he stops abruptly, making nami almost trip and fall. "i'm monkey d. kazuki!" and that's how their jaws went slack.

"YOU'RE WHO?!" they panic.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

as soon as the girls got back to the sunny, they met all of the crewmates, except for sanji and you, who apparently hadn't been back yet.

"who's that kid?" usopp asks confused. mainly because he couldn't pry kazuki off of him and his nose.

"where did this kid come from?" zoro asks. he was starting to get irritated.

"uncle zoro, whewe is dada?" the little version of luffy asks, a bit upset that usopp could get him off of him.

"how would i know, kiddo?" he answers in the same annoyed tone as ever.

"i'm so hungry! when is sanji coming?" luffy whines, showing up at the deck and there they could spot the similarities.

not only their hair, eyes, pout, or even the big grin kazuki offered, but the energy the kid had. he was just like luffy in many ways. he just wasn't that loud like the straw hat captain – thanks to his mother.

once the crew saw them together, all the pieces seemed to connect. one, two, three blinks in disbelief and the boys' jaws fell to the ground.

"oh, hey kid!" luffy greets him friendly.

"dada!" the little boy jumped into the captain's arms who seemed as clueless as ever.

and a wave of yelling could be heard.

a couple of minutes has passed by and luffy and his son seemed to get along well. zoro, chopper, usopp, brook and franky were in the same position, they were still loading the information.

the captain and his little kid were running around the sunny, playing tag. they even tried to call the others but they didn't... seem like playing.

"you know, kazuki is too old to be in this... uhm... timeline..." nami points it out to robin.

"i know. how can luffy have had a son?" she murmurs, watching both run and giggle around the ship.

"robin!" it seems to call the other back to earth. "i'm seriously worried! and we don't even know who his mother is." the navigator looks stressed. one luffy is enough trouble, but a luffy and a mini him?

"we don't even know how he got here in the first place." robin sighs.

"we're back!" you announce as you put some bags on the floor.

"wow! you took more time than us." nami approaches you. "what happened?"

"well... sanji decided to pick up a fight over a fish..." you say casually. "uhm... did we miss something?" you notice the boys, finding it normal – well, for the straw hats, but as soon you spot a kid running around the ship with the manchild your captain is, you get confused. "who's that kid?"

"long story..." nami smiles innocently.

"did you kidnap a kid?"

"what? no! it's not- it isn't-"

"mama!" a childly voice is heard from the depths of the sunny and you can see that kid from before running to you happily.

okay, it's going too far!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

"so, this kid, kazuki, is luffy son's with... you?!" usopp tries to connect all the pieces. you hum an "yes" and his brain seems to burn. "too much information, too much information!" he holds his head while falling to the ground dramatically.

"when did you and luffy make a baby?" zoro asks confused as ever.

"don't be stupid mosshead. this kid is clearly from the future." sanji answers, blowing the smoke away.

"thanks, sanji." you smile at him, who looks at you like he's helplessly in love.

you feel a tug in your shirt and look down at your kid. "is something wrong, little one?"

"mama, i wanna sleep..." he rubs his eyes and yawns, blinking slowly while stretching his arms out to you. the whole crew – zoro included – had their hearts melted.

"then let's sleep, huh?" you say softly, picking him up and gently caressing his cheek and hair as he snuggled against you.

luffy runs to you, seeing his child in your arms. "what? don't tell me you're sleepy already, kid!" the captain pouts, watching the baby yawn. "no, let's play more!" he bounces excitedly.

"luffy, he's tired." you hiss, wanting your baby as calm as possible.

"but i wanna play more with my son!" he insists.

"you played enough, don't you think?" you start to make your way inside the sunny with luffy following you, insisting that they should play more. "now he wants to sleep with his mama."

"but-"

"mama, dada, let's sleep, pwease?" hearing the sleepy voice of his child, luffy seems to calm down a little.

"sure baby." you peck his forehead. "but your dada is not joining us 'till he baths." luffy gasps.

"how can you betray the dada of your child like that?" the captain whines, still following you to your quarters.

"yeah, i guess they settled pretty quickly to this life of mama and dada." nami comments, grinning at their recent view.

"i can't believe this idiot became a father before me." usopp complains, murmuring still lying on the floor.

"how do you know that?" chopper asks. "well, maybe all of you are already parents in the future..." that simple sentence was enough to ignite something in zoro, usopp and sanji.

"hey, kazuki! don't sleep right now!" zoro shouts.

"yeah, tell me if your great uncle usopp gave you little friends to play with, huh?" usopp is the first to run, looking for the little family.

"surely i'm the only one qualified enough to even get a spouse!" sanji yells at zoro, punching him to reach the one person who could give him the precious information.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤZ O R O

he'd be as confused as luffy and would deny every word that kid would say. like, only just because a kid has green hair, is almost obsessed with swords, has the guts to insult him and is the sassiest kid he'd ever met, that is his son, huh? he definitely could grow accustomed to the presence of that child and the fact that he made him with you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ☆ ]

another island could be seen by the pirates. it meant they could dock there to stock some items. franky was the one eager. on their way, some pirates tried to fight the straw hats – which obviously couldn't be a good idea. well, the matter is, the sunny had some minor damages and usopp and franky were trying to keep their home alive.

chopper and you didn't need anything. the medical supplies were enough for a while, so you and he didn't need to go outside, but he wanted to. nami went to see if she could buy something she liked. luffy went to see if he could find a nice restaurant. zoro, robin, brook and you stayed on the ship.

zoro and you had a hate-love relationship. you were friends and would get along, but he's the sassiest man you've ever met and just gets on your nerves. you just want to kill him.

some time has passed by and the crew came back. you were still reading your book, laying your head on robin's legs as she sunbathed.

"hey, uhm... i didn't know zoro and you were together..." usopp says awkwardly, approaching you as robin coughs in disbelief.

"we're not." you stand up, angry. "what is that stupid vegetable slicer saying now?"

"no! nothing! is just... franky and i found a kid... and he's... claiming to be your son..." you gag.

"MY WHAT?!" you hear zoro yelling and soon coughing desperately.

"where is he?" you ask the sharpshooter who points to the entrance. the green-haired kid looks so timid. he's just standing there, looking at every part of the ship. you approach him calmly, bending a bit so you can talk better to him. "hey, kid!" you offer him a smile and he can't help but feel calmer.

"hi, mom..." he answers in a low voice, still shy.

"why don't you say your name and we get to meet the others, huh? so you can tell us more about what's going on. do you know what's going on?" he looks into your eyes and advert his gaze again.

"something like that..." he plays with his fingers before answering your first question. "my name is roronoa koro." your eyes widen a bit, you can't hide your surprise.

"so you're really the kid of that stupid man..." you murmur and he nods.

"i swear he gets more likeable in the future." koro says, earning a warmful giggle from you. seeing his mother never fails to calm him.

"i rather see it myself." you offer your hand to him, who holds it without even thinking. "let's see the others."

as you walk hand-in-hand with koro, getting closer to the crewmates, they couldn't believe what their eyes were just seeing.

zoro's jaw fell on the ground. how- how can he have a child? with... you?

the little kid gasps immediately once he sees the swords zoro is carrying. he runs to his father and try to touch the the swords, but the grumpy swordsman doesn't let him to.

"what you think you doing?" he asks, holding the kid's head so he couldn't get closer.

"do you use them often?" the boy asks, curiosity dripping from his eyes.

"of course, i use them often. why wouldn't i?"

"well, currently, the three swords are untouched, held by a support in the living room's wall..." the little roronoa answers, trying to touch them at all costs. "let me see it!"

"no, you won't touch it!" zoro insists.

a loud noise was heard by the crew. a tray with some snacks was splattered on the floor while sanji stood there, looking at the little mosshead in front of him.

"am i seeing it right?" the blond cook's eyes were wide open. "WHY IS THERE A LITTLE MOSSHEAD?"

"uncle sanji!" the little boy runs to his beloved uncle, who was left flabbergasted.

"you like him? he's a stupid cook!" the swordsman was at a loss of words.

"and so are you." sanji laughs his ass off. his eyes glossy because of the tears of joy. "seriously... i can't believe you had- well, you're gonna have kids with this idiot." he talks directly to you.

"trust me... i have no reasons to..."

"my favourite boy! tell me, kid, what do you wanna eat? i can prepare anything just for you." sanji talks to him, guiding koro to the kitchen. luffy is following them quietly until sanji yells at him so he scurries away.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

trying to know more about him and where he came from, zoro and you sit and talk to koro. you were lying on a wall, koro was by your side and zoro was in front of you.

"so, how did you come here?" you ask the boy.

"i don't know. last thing i remember i was sleeping, then i ended up at that weird place." your son explains. "the weirdest thing is... my sister was next to me... why she's not here too?" he sounded confused.

"wait... not only one but two kids with the mosshead? what did i do to deserve such a punishment?" you mumble.

"ha ha, like it's my dream to have kids with you." the swordsman hissed.

"not only two, but three. you're pregnant." you gag as you listen to his words.

"three..." you whisper, not believing a thing. "what's your thing, huh? three earrings, three swords, three kids. are you obsessed or something?" you yell at zoro who just smirks.

"might be my lucky number." he keeps that eat-shitting grin on that stupid pretty face while you die internally. "wait, you have a sister... what's her... name?"

"the one you fought mom to name her. kuina." koro's face lit up at the mention of his sister. he really loves his family.

that annoying grin zoro held up in his face was replaced by a genuine smile which made you smile along, happy. koro knew about the past of both his parents and was really proud of them.

"lord, please give me strenght..." you sigh. "well, i know it can be a bit... confusing not to call me mom, so you can keep it..."

"and you like it..." you son knows you too well no to notice it. doesn't matter what timeline he's at, you'll always be his favourite person.

"and i like it..." you smile, ruffling his short green hair. "okay, i'll try to find some way to send you back to your life. future me and... zoro... might be worried." you stand up, pecking his forehead and walk away.

"pleeease, let me see it! mom never lets me..." the little boy pouts, making grabby hands at his father as soon as you're out of sight. "please, dad!"

that word. that kid.

"fine. but only if you tell me some things. it'll be our... little dad and son secret." zoro suggests, knowing way too well his son wouldn't refuse.

"deal!" he answers excitedly while watching his father pull wado ichimonji from its sheath.

koro inspects the sword. his eyes are bright, sparkling like a starry sky. he's just like his father, a swords lover. even though his mother has forbidden him from using one. zoro has an amused look watching his little soon-to-be-swordsman.

"so... did i become the greatest swordsman?" he questions, seeing koro maneuvering his sword.

"yes, you defeated mihawk." the reply is short and simple due to the boy's concentration to something else.

zoro just celebrates, murmuring a few things, feeling like he's the strongest man alive.

"did future me teach you that well how to use a sword?"

"sure thing! despite mom's clear rule not to let me touch a sword 'til i was sixteen, you've started to teach me two years ago." the kid smiles.

"and... last thing... uhm... did future me ever tell you how i get your mom?" the swordsman looks a little hesitant, even more when he sees the knowing look koro was shooting at him.

"hate her my ass." the roronoa kid mumbles.

"hey!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤU S O P P

the moment he spotted you coming back with a child, he thought you've just kidnapped her, but as soon as he laid his eyes on the little girl, he thought it was too good to be just a joke. when the girl introduced herself, he couldn't help but smile and welcome her, loving the idea of being the father of such a cute girl.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ☆ ]

the crew were preparing to set sail. the island they docked at was way too small, so they hadn't much to do there. as soon as they've got everything they needed – or the island could provide – they'd get back to sailing.

yet, you were walking around the place, seeing some things, and if you liked it, you'd keep it.

you were standing at a fruit stall, hearing the seller babble about some rare golden fruit he just got from a distant island, but you knew it was just talking. you were distracted by your favourite fruit – which looked so pretty and delicious – that you didn't even notice a little girl running around.

"dada? dada!" she was screaming. she looked so terrified.

you turned around, seeing the kid crying. some people were trying to help her, some people were just ignoring her and passing by. but as soon as she spots you, she runs to you like you are her hope.

"mama!" she clutched to you and refused to let you go.

"oh! uhm... hey, baby... i'm- i'm not your mother, kid..." you tried to pry her off of you, but her grip was too strong.

"yes, you are! you're my mama! dada always talks about you and shows pictures of both of you. you are my mama!" she yells at you, not giving you space.

"okay, okay, let me see you, right?" she looked hesitant, but eventually she loosened her grip and looked up to you. she was so beautiful and reminded you of someone. "first, tell me your name, huh?" you knelt in front of her, taking her face in your hands.

"nyla..." the girl looks at you with such admiration.

"and where are your parents?" she frowned.

"you're here!" she insists, pouting when you refuse to be her mother. "you've met me! and dada might... be on the ship?"

"what?"

"the ship, mommy! can we go there, please?" her eyes were sparkling.

"fine..." you just accept. she streches her arms out to you, wanting to be as close as possible to you. you pick her up, heading to the sunny.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

"uhm... who's... that girl?" usopp asks as he's the first to spot you with a child in your arms.

"dada!" nyla is quick to let go of you and run to her father, who just stands there, looking shocked.

"HE'S YOUR FATHER?" you yell, as shocked as usopp.

"yes! and you're my mama! and i'm happy to be here!" she points and hugs usopp, who embraces her too.

nami shows up at the deck and frowns. "who-"

"our daughter." you just accepted. it looked so confusing and complicated, you just accepted.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

late at night, nyla wanted her father to sleep with both of you, but when you said usopp had to sleep in the boy's quarters, she sulked a bit, but eventually, accepted. it was clear to see that she was attached to you, like your shadow, or an extension of you.

"okay, so, i can stay just by the time you sleep, or else your mother throws me outta the ship." usopp explains casually, smiling, getting in the bed.

"right! i want mommy anyways!" she nuzzles her face in the crook of your neck while hugging you.

"see! i'm the favourite, hah!" you tease the sniper, who crosses his arms, sulking.

"that's not fair, nyla!" he tells her in a whining voice.

right after that, you can feel something wet on your neck and a sniffing.

"nyla, baby, why you're crying?" you push her a bit, trying to see her face. her eyes are red and wet, tears rolling down her cheeks nonstop.

"dada are you mad at me?" the little girl asks her father, whose eyes widen in surprise.

"no, no, i could never, love." he rushes to scoop her in his arms, calming her.

"i just wanna spend more time with mama..." her voice is muffled due to her face being pressed to usopp's chest.

"why that? i'll always be with you, huh?" you try to soothe her, but it doesn't, she sobs even more.

"i just have my dada now, mama. you're not there. i wanna spend more time with you because when i get back you won't be there..." you glanced at usopp, who looked even more panicked than you are.

"hey, come to mama..." you call her and nyla is quick to hug you. "don't think about that, okay? i'm here for you right now." you kiss her cheek, wiping her tears away. "and i won't leave by your side until is your time to get back to your life." she looked into your eyes, trying to catch every inch of your face so she can remember. "now let's sleep so tomorrow we can enjoy more!" she smiled.

"night momma, night dada!" nyla pecked yours and her father's cheek, then she closed her eyes, waiting for her time to be kissed.

usopp and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss both of her cheeks, making her giggle happily.

"night, baby girl." usopp sang, caressing her hair.

you closed your eyes, getting yourself comfortable to sleep and usopp stayed there, just like he said. well, is not like he'll get any sleep that night, after all, now he knows he has a daughter with the woman of his dreams, but she's not there.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤS A N J I

the moment he saw a little girl looking for her parents, he'd be stunned. he could clearly see some of your traits on her face, just like your smile – the thing he adored the most about you. but he'd be confused asf, because who's that girl? when she finally introduces herself, saying she's the daughter of blackleg sanji and you, he'd faint. has... his dream just come true?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ☆ ]

you were in the kitchen with sanji. since the others have just gone to explore the new island, someone had to watch the ship, and you offered to do that. the cook, not missing an opportunity, said he'd be with you, after all, he couldn't let a delicate flower like you alone at an unknown place, right?

at the moment, sanji is cooking like always. he's making some kind of dessert he refuses to tell what it is.

"sanji, are you sure it doesn't contain anything i'm allergic to?" you ask, trying to peek at some of the ingredients.

"please, my swan, i'm not some kind of inexperienced chef, am i? i would never cook something you're allergic to. now, please, take a seat and be ready, i'm almost done." he says and you do, taking your seat and preparing yourself. sanji turns around, placing the plate with the colourful dessert in front of you. "et voilà! hope you like it!"

"i always appreciate your cooking." and you take a little bite. your eyes roll in pleasure. you're so lucky to have a sous chef in your crew.

sanji just looked at you in awe. he could move a mountain if it meant he could get you smiling.

"excuse me!" an unknown voice shouted from afar. you shoot a glance at the cook who is doing just the same.

"can't believe i'm being interrupted..." you murmur, taking another bite before heading to the deck with sanji following you.

there you were welcomed by a girl. her blue dress was a little dirty and you wondered if she has fallen.

"can we help you?" the blond cook asked her in a soft voice.

"uhmm... yes..." she looked a little hesitant. "i know it may sound a bit... unusual, but... my name is heaven and... i'm your daughter..." she avoided your gaze.

a loud thump was heard and you looked at your side. sanji has just fainted.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ ... ]

caught by some headache, sanji woke up. he was lying on the hammock...? but, i was on the deck...? well, he had some kinda dream. not weird, but the perfect dream! that might be the reason for that headache.

hearing distant voices, he waltzed through the ship, going to the kitchen. there, he could see you and the same girl in his dream!

"what?" he mumbles. heaven notices him and signs to you.

"oh, sanji, dear, come here!" you called him so excited he couldn't refuse – not like he would do it anyways. he always does what you say. "do you remember what heaven said?" you ask carefully.

"uhm... she's our daughter...?" the cook says hesitantly, afraid that what he has heard was just a dream.

"yess!" you squeal.

the girl seemed so amused. getting to know her parents when they're not even together yet. in her timeline, they're so in love with each other and her and... now... her mother seems so clueless or just... don't wanna know about him. after all sanji is a womanizer (for now).

"so it's true! hah! i thought it was just a dream, but is true!" now is his time to squeal and that makes heaven smile.

"it's different to see you like that..." the girl points out. "you know... having your hair hiding your eye."

"uhm..." he clears his throat. "it's just part of my style."

"i like your curly brows, dad!" she smiled and that alone would make sanji smile too, but the way she called him, it warmed his heart.

"okay, sanji, we've got you're excited to know you have a daughter-" you start, but he interrupts.

"with you! the most amazing woman i've ever got to know!" he bats his lashes, smiling widely.

"yeah... with me... but we need to know how to send her back to her timeline. she can't be here. she's not supposed to be here. future you and me might be worried... mainly you." you explain and he quickly gets to hug the girl, who appreciates her father's gesture.

"but she's our daughter! would you do that?!" he sounds so desperate, you may just slap him.

"yeah! but only in the future! it'll just mess up our time! maybe we don't even get together anymore."

"okay, kid! see you in the future." he immediately walks away from her, but quickly runs back, clinging to her. "but we can keep her while we don't find a way to send her back, right?"

"yeah! can i?" she joins her father, pouting and batting her lashes.

"fine! you didn't even need to do all that! what would i do to you if not keep you? throw you at the sea?" you ask in disbelief.

"he's the one most likely to get thrown..." heaven points to sanji.

"hey!"

"let's just wait for the crew and give 'em some good news." you smile, watching sanji and heaven get along well.

@LOLASKY ᡣ 𐭩 actually i've wrote sanji's part with the live action sanji in mind. idk he just looks so more mature... actually the live action characters in general!! but yeah wtv- dividers and template by @/cafekitsune

#one piece imagine #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #usopp x reader #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #usopp

1K notes · View notes

ellieslittlewh0re · 6 days

Note

Please write some skin to skin with Ellie. I need a break from her strap!! Whew <3

yes!! I totally understand where your coming from 😩 I miss the good ol fashioned bumpin & grinding 🩷

𝖺/𝗇 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍 <𝟥

𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵𝟐𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵 𝒆.𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔.

જ⁀➴ 𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 <𝟑

જ⁀➴ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝖽𝗎𝗁), 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 & 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺

It was still early in the morning, the sun just barely breaking on the horizon, and dew drops stuck to your shared bedroom window from the summer humidity.

Ellie stirred awake, rubbing her eyes as she adjusted to creeping daylight, and then she saw you. Your bare shoulder, and how the light highlighted your silhouette, all the way down your bare sides.

She felt bad of course, after a night where she let her jealousy and insecurities overwhelm her, she ended up saying some things she regretted- things she didn’t mean.

Her hand caressed your shoulder, and down your arm, you were still asleep, but she didn’t intend to let it last long.

She loved you, cared so deeply for you, and you just made perfect sense to her.

Maybe it was her insecurities talking again, but she had to make it up to you, now.

She scoots closer to you on the bed, her bare chest on your back, and her arm wraps around your front, her lips now on your shoulder.

This is when you start to finally wake up, her restless kisses making it impossible to ignore.

You hummed as your eyes blink open, and you quickly remember last nights events.

Sure, you were still upset. It wasn’t unforgivable, but you wanted to make her work for it.

“Baby?” She said, quiet and a little rough, and you ignored her, tucking your face away further into the pillow so she couldn’t see your face.

Another kiss is felt on your shoulder, and then another one a little higher up, and they kept coming until her lips were in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered into you, her warm breath making the skin on your arms tingle.

You extended your neck, giving room for her to continue her surge, and a smile kept onto Ellie’s lips, knowing that not only you were awake, but you were inviting her.

Her soft pecks turned wet, her tongue sliding across your skin until it turned into gentle suctioning, and her hips perfectly snug.

You hum again as Ellie’s hand finds your breast, gently rolling the fat between her fingers, taking extra caution around the sensitive nerves.

Her breathing starts to pick up in your ear as her hips are rolling into you, grinding her cunt into your ass, and her hand also became more frenzied, finding its way into your panties, and sliding a index finger between your sticky folds.

You moaned in response, eyes still shut, and wrapping a hand around to pull on the back of her thigh in need of more.

Luckily for Ellie, you didn’t make her work nearly as hard as you should have because her boxers were growing increasingly tight and uncomfortable, sticking and clinging to her cunt as she continued to hump you from behind.

Boby parts begin to stick, her forehead resting on the back of your shoulder, and her thighs against yours. She was relentless with her wrist, but the angle wasn’t favorable.

You’re rolled onto your back, and she’s climbing on top of you, finally abling a kiss, all the while using one of her hands to slide her boxers down the length of her legs, not bothering to take them the rest of the way off as they dangled from one of her ankles.

Your eyes opened the rest of the way, seeing her as she lowers her lips to your chest, planting open mouthed kisses, and you whine as the kisses turned brutish- sucking, and her teeth grazing your nipple as she pulls away.

She gets lower, her bottom lip ghosting the pudge of your lower stomach, “Can I?” She asks, so sweetly, and so unsure, wanting nothing more to get closer to you in any way possible, but never fully satisfied.

You nodded, and it took her no less than a second to hook her pretty fingers around the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them elsewhere with little importance to neither of you.

It started sweet with the trail of kisses up your inner thighs, her warm hands hooking around you, and all her adoring vows spewed between the flicks of her tongue.

See, Ellie loved you- loved fucking you, but it was one of this mornings where her growing itch was starting to physically ache.

She lifts herself, and in your dazed-out haze, you give her a look of confusion, but she’s pulling and pushing at your legs, spreading them until the inner muscles started to sting.

“Ellie, what are you-?” You started to ask, but she pretty much answered your question as she swung a leg over one of yours, her hands on your knees, and lowered herself onto you.

A sharp breath is exhale from your lungs, and a sigh from hers.

“M’sorry, babe… couldn’t wait anymore.”

Her freckled forearm was now covered in raised, pinkish scratches, both from you pulling her closer, and pushing away in overstimulation.

“Ellie… I’m gonna-“ You try to speak, but your voice fails you, coming out in a series of small little wines.

She comes down, her trembling arms barely able to hold herself up, but still continues the wave-like motions of her hips- in and out, gently rolling like a tide against the sea shelled bottom.

She kissed your cheek, a tinge of saltwater on her tongue as her lips lazily rested against your temple,

“I know, baby, me too. Together, yeah?”

She straightens herself, one of her hands pushing on the inside of your knee, ensuring full contact. And it seems so obvious in times like this that you’d always forgive her so easily- kaleidoscopic eyes peeking through dark lashes, her hip bones protruding behind alabaster skin, and the hypnotizing manner of her muscles under strain.

Ellie’s jaw clenched, digging a little harder, and rutting a little faster as her climax approaches, both greedy for her own release, but also sympathetic towards yours.

Almost ritualistic in nature, she repeated your name, and you with hers, your bodies practically conjoined as she collapses on top of you.

Once the air returned back to her lungs, she rolls off, and is opening her arms for you to take position.

And, of course, you do, nuzzling in beside her, and her hand is in your hair, stroking gently at the stands.

This is how your morning came and went, wrapped around your girlfriend, and limbs intertwined, softly snoring away the daylight, and Ellie’s heartbeat being your melodic departure.

i’m so bad at endings I’m sorry but none the less, I hope you enjoyed 🩷

1K notes · View notes

macfrog · 3 months

Text

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

2K notes · View notes

destructive-path · 4 months

Note

hi lovely!! idk if you're taking requests, but can you write gentle abby having reader (who's SUPER DUPER nervous because it's readers first time having sex) in her lap and she's just talking her through fingering? i love gentle skin on skin and i feel like it would be so hot ☹️☹️💕

anything 4 u (sorry this took me a min to finish and i got a little lazy at the end )

from stone to clay (A.A)

tags- 18+ MDNI , gf!abby , virgin!reader (reader is legal! i imagine shes at least 20 in this), afab reader she/her referred, anyone can read this the insert just has a vagina!, kissing, romantic!abby, swearing, fingering(duh), thigh riding,squirting………..whew

a/n- tbh me writing for abby was easier than i thought itd be purely bc i picture her irl to be soo much like the way i describe her in this fic. but this in a once in a blue moon occurrence bc i have way too many ellie fics i need to finish (help)

also yk the mf drill i didnt proofread or edit this just be a good reader and enjoy it for what it is mama is lazy

abby was chivalry personified

most people knew her to be quiet with a certain nobleness shining off her demeanor. her confidence was undeniable yet humble, she was reserved but also gallant. her personality mimicked something of a prince.

keeping mostly to herself, she remained occupied by things that made her all the more interesting to those around you. history, photography, not to mention her keen athletic skills. if her stature didnt give her away the whispers of praise from her peers at the gym did.

she was terribly intimidating. deemed something of a god by those around her. the possibility of becoming her friend was a trophy won by very few. so when she approached you one day, flowers in hand you thought it was an elaborate prank.

no one knows how it happened. how one day you were sure the infamous woman didnt even know your name, to becoming the object of her affection. it was like night and day. the moment abby had laid her eyes on you she become the face of chivalry.

she wrote you notes, texted you good morning everyday as well as pictures of things that reminded her of you. abby would ask you out on dates solely in person. (you secretly damned this trait because each time she asked it made you a blushing mess) she insisted on picking you up and paying each time, presenting you with a gift or an arrangement of flora upon arrival.

abby didn’t make a move on you for a while.

shortly after agreeing to start seeing her you confessed no one had asked you on a date before. this shocked her immensely due to the fact that she was so smitten with you. so she decided she would be the perfect gentlewoman, making sure each first memory you shared would be astoundingly romantic and particularly respectful. the last thing abby wanted to do was rush you or make you uncomfortable.

the first time you and abby shared a kiss was when she asked you to be her girlfriend. she had given you a night straight out of a movie. your heart never beat so fast for so long. at the end of the night she remained her respectful self, walked you to your doorstep, faced you and pulled you into her arms. god shes so strong. abby brought her hand to your cheek and her face close to yours and gently stated

“i want you to be mine.”

she had robbed you of speech whilst boring her eyes into yours, if she wasn’t holding you so tight you would’ve gone completely limp at the sound of her voice. at a complete loss, you gave her a gentle nod then abby placed her lips on yours giving you a perfect first kiss.

it wasnt long until you had become curious of more intimate moments you two could share. you weren’t a child, just accidentally sexually stunted, you had let yourself become consumed with more important things, it wasn’t until you turned 18 that you realized you had missed out on lifes more…sensual pleasures. so here you were years later and the opportunity to learn could not be more accessible.

it was hard to not be aware of how abby made you feel. you had become official just before the summer kicked in and as the temperature rose outside so did the temperature in the bedroom. once abby had made you her partner she came over alot. the hotter it got the less she would wear, as did most, but most people werent abby. MOST people didnt spend everyday lifting weights at the gym. and god did it show.

on one particular sweltering hot day abby found that her air conditioning had bust. luckily for her yours was operating fine. she shows up at your door dressed in low hanging loose fitting shorts that stopped mid thigh and a black muscle tee with the side holes leaving her entire abdomen on display. she was wearing a red sports bra that day. red. you would never forget it.

fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of abby on your couch in a thin layer of sweat and flushed cheeks. fifteen minutes of abby subconsciously moaning about how good the air conditioning feels….

“baby?….you okay?”

she questions. your heaving now, and abby, being the sweet girlfriend she is, is incredibly concerned. what she doesn’t know is that you’ve been staring at the muscles on her thighs for fifteen minutes and your starting to sweat. and it’s not because of the weather.

“abby…”

you whine. and she gets it now. and shes giving you those eyes. god damn that look in her eyes because its making you breathe harder and now your sure its because you have never needed someone to touch you more than now.

desperation oozes out of you causing abby to hum. a faint smile forms on her lips as she pats her lap and beckons you in a sweet tone that rings through your whole body.

“cmere..”

she didnt even need to ask. before the words had even left her lips you had made your way over to her. you find yourself climbing on top of her and settling directly on her lap. its slightly embarrassing considering abbys position under you. shes got her arms spread out on either side of her, legs spread apart. she hasnt even touched you yet. for a second, she takes in the sight of you, abby has yet to see you this vulnerable up close. this intimate.

“hi.”

shes smiling at you in a way that makes your skin burn. you cant help but giggle at how precious shes being considering how sensual this moment feels. your arms hug your body awkwardly feeling overwhelmed by her glare. abby leans her head down to meet your lowered gaze sending your head up right. slowly she unfolds your arms and places her hands on the soft of your underarm. her fingers sprawl into claws and she carefully scratches her way up to your hands placing them on her bulging arms.

“hold on.”

abby whispers while tightening your grip around her biceps before her hands settle on your hips. a slight confusion overcomes you at her words but then she’s lifting you off her lap effortlessly and placing your heat over one of her thighs instead of your initial place on her lap. as she lowers you over her incredibly toned thigh her nose trails up your body taking in your scent. abby inhales deep tickling the surface of your skin making your hairs stand up. eventually your thinly clothed cunt comes in contact with abbys thigh muscle, the fact that a single thigh is enough to seat you comfortably has you staining your boxers. you grasp her arms a little tighter.

“you okay?”

shes whispering in your ear and her touch is driving you crazy.

“just tell me to stop if it gets to be too much…”

your lack of know how in this current situation has you completely pliant to her advances. there was something in you that was reluctant to have abby see you so exposed like this. maybe its the way her composure was kept under wraps. she was so stoic underneath you, demeanor oozing unwavering confidence, each touch she graced you with filled with intention. she was extremely calculated, focused on making you feel comfortable, making you feel good. roaming hands explore every inch of you. its a mix of delicacy and desperation, slight pressure applied to your skin attempting to coax out any nervousness you may have in this moment but its really no use. abby is too perfect like this. she had always been attentive to what made you feel good that each touch of her finger tips on your bare skin overwhelms you.

Its subtle, but the only thing giving away abbys true excitement in this moment is her heartbeat. you can feel it thump fast against your chest as she holds you close. her hands had finally settled on your hips, she had become obsessed with the feeling of your pelvis, the way your skin bunched together at the bend atop your leg for abby to grasp onto. she began to stroke you there softly, dragging her hands back and forth unconsciously compelling your hips to move on her thigh.

“abby.”

she hums at sound of your voice still deeply consumed in your increasingly sultry scent. you cant remember when but she had began placing soft kisses on your neck. your head had cocked slightly to the left leaving room for sweet pecks from your girlfriend that fed into the need for more of her.

“abby..”

shes kissing your jaw, your pulse that has picked up to an almost alarming pace, the base of your neck, god does she even know shes making you rock your hips on her thigh? her grip on your pelvis has become so strong you have no choice but to give in to abbys manipulation of your body. unbeknownst to her the heat of this moment making everything in abbys body flex. your seat on her thigh had become so tense you swear you can feel a vein prodding at your wet spot.

“abby!”

it all feels too good, and she hasnt even kissed you directly yet and your clothes are still on and if you spend another second riding her like this you might just come from it.

“hmm…what? you okay love? you need me to stop?”

her face finally leaves its home in your neck and shes looking at you with those eyes again. abby had become so consumed in the moment she didn’t realize her actions were having such an effect on you. concern floods her eyes but theres something else there too. a look you have yet to see from your girlfriend. it almost looks like shes in pain. she looks at you like if you told her stop her advances she might actually start crying. abby is trying to make sure she hadn’t moved too fast or made you too uncomfortable, but at the same time shes just so eager to have her hands on you.

“im so sorry baby, i got carried away…your just-do you want me to stop? please dont make me stop? ill be good i promise…”

her sweaty forehead meets yours and she is massaging you again, this time more desperate than before.

“no! please dont stop…..its just- hurts. the clot-boxers…need them off…”

your practically panting while your heads remain connected as she looks up at you and sports a soft smile. then finally shes connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. her hands find their safe spot on your hips as she sends you slightly backwards upon initial contact. your grip on her biceps has yet to falter so you dont fall off your place on her lap. abby uses the leverage of your position to maneuver your boxers off your legs. somehow she had kissed you deeply all while finding a way to remove the sticky fabric down your legs and tossing it somewhere in the living room.

once your boxers had been discarded she sits you back upright on her thigh. the skin to skin contact on your cunt makes you whimper and disconnect from her kiss, screwing your eyes shut due to the foreign and intense pleasure you felt there.

“shh shh shhhh…its okay baby-”

abby whispers against your lips, she doesn’t touch your leaking center just yet, instead she strokes the plush on your thigh and this time its making you shiver. You shake to the point where your girlfriend cant even deny how cute it is. how cute you are under her touch, the smallest action making you weak. but she cant tease you too hard just yet, abby wants to be a good girlfriend and teach you what its like to feel desired. to be touched by someone who truly cares about your pleasure. her hand smooths right underneath your belly button, eyes trained on yours.

“gonna touch you here now okay?”

abby is almost too respectful about everything that’s going on. part of you wishes she would just have her way with you, to quit the patronizing and fuck you however she wanted. you knew your girlfriend better than that though. you knew this was going to be an an torturously slow experience, abby was going to take her time.

you give her a nod of approval, anxious for whats to come next. she stares at you for a little longer admiring your state. her heart beats faster at the look of you. your puffy lips and red cheeks. every inch of you glossy due to sweat. she observes until she physically cant resist the need to touch you anymore. her head drops to look at your cunt on her thigh and you see her swallow, hard.

“fuck.”

abby swears in a dirty tone, its harsh and punctuates the consonant at the end. the sounds makes you slap her arm slightly out of embarrassment.

“abby.”

“sorry! sorry….”

she trails off entranced by your pussy. its weeping and the sight makes abbys ears burn red. she licks her lips as she trails her thumb down your vagina until it reaches the hood over your puffy clit due to you riding her thigh just minutes before, then she stops. you inhale the lower she advances on you to a sharp end, she finally reaches your most sensitive button you breathe out harshly when she slowly circles her thumb there. a slight squeal follows your breathing that illicits a hum of approval from your girlfriend.

“m’gonna play with it for a little okay? its going to tickle but you have to relax, then it will start to feel really good okay?”

shes rubbing you sort of rhythmically, her thumb circles with a fluidity so visually stimulating that more moans start to leave your lips.

“that’s good. its okay to make noise, means your feeling good baby.”

all you can do is nod and squeeze abbys arms tight. the subtle coaching tone in her voice makes your head feel light. she had a habit of spending countless hours in the gym, so it made sense that she could play the role of a good trainer/teacher.

after a while of abby intently massaging your clit you had become more pliant to her touch. she had your loose fitting tank top pulled taught behind you so she had better access to look at your now soaking pussy. the faster she moved the more the room filled with sounds of your slick. once it had started to ring so loud in your ear you fell forward into your girlfriend hiding your face in her neck. although you were embarrassed that didn’t stop the subtle roll of your hips into her thumb.

“s-so embarrassing..”

you whispered in her ear, concerned that abby would become disgusted by just how wet you had become so easily.

“mmhmm i don’t mind, its normal. plus it lets me know that im making you feel good.”

it didnt take much for you to believe her, abby was a good girlfriend. she wouldn’t lie.

so if she wanted go know how good you felt you made sure to show her just how much of a perfect girlfriend she was being.

“feels so good abby...”

your words tickles her ear drum and practically doubles the movement of her thumb on your cunt.

“yeah?”

“mhhmm”

you nod fast, face still buried her neck soaking in the smell of her.

“you want more?”

when she presents you with this proposal something in you snaps. any shyness you previously had was gone, the mere idea of abby being able to make you feel more, to make you feel better than you already did had become so enticing that everything else faded away. you craved more.

“please…”

before you can finish the word she’s adjusting you so that your leaky hole is more accessible to her fingers. she flips her hand over so her middle digit flick’s quickly through your folds. you clench around nothing at the feeling. its fast and somehow more intense then before, the action mimicking something of an intrusion without even entering you fully yet. the sensation makes you bite your lip straining your voice afraid that if you let yourself, you would scream.

“gotta make sure you are ready for me hmm? it might hurt a little at first but remember what i said about relaxing-“

“abby i know how it works okay? please just hurry-uh!”

she takes your impatience as a cue to finally enter your warmth with her middle finger. it stings at first involuntarily causing your thighs to close but she stops you. abbys mouth falls open as she feels how tight you squeeze around her.

“you relaxing baby? or are you just- fuck- just this tight?”

you sit up straight to observe the scene beneath you and it almost makes you faint. abby is fucking her finger into you slowly, twisting her wrist as she exits as an attempt to get you to open up for her. its not working too well, you watch as she enters you and see how your body practically pushes her digit out. you needed to relax.

“you have to loosen up love, or i won’t be able to fuck you because it will hurt too much. i don’t want to hurt you okay? so…cmere.”

she beckons you with her lips and you lean forward to meet her in a kiss. as she kisses you she begins the flicking motion on your slick again. you sink deeper into the kiss while she toys with you’re pussy, finding comfort in her lips.

“m’trying to relax…”

“i know i know just focus on my lips…”

and you do because they are heaven on earth. her soft kiss blurs the world around you. abby is normally marble, beautiful but hard and somewhat cold not susceptible to much damage. but right now she’s clay. messy, wet, and easily manipulated. you could tear her apart into tiny little pieces and she would let you, she would do anything for you. the thought of her changing the fabric of who she is in your presence finally makes you give in to her completely.

shes prodding at your entrance with her digit when she finally feels you open up slightly. one hand moves to continue her circles on your clit whilst the other begins to pump into you slowly.

“oh my god..”

this is the feeling you had been curious about for so long. the way her finger glides in and out of you with ease is a feeling you weren’t sure how you went so long without. but you were glad you did because something about abby being your first made it all worth the wait.

“feels much better doesn’t it baby? i knew that kiss would make you relax…”

her tone is mocking you slightly and you thank god for it because she’s had been so goddamn intense throughout this whole thing.

“…might need to add another finger…”

her ring finger slides into you and you can’t help but moan. you had never felt so full. abby wastes zero time and curls her fingers into you. you watch the way her bicep flexes as she pounds into you. the veins of her neck strain as she concentrates solely on your pussy. your hand snakes around her neck and you begin to let your hips meet her fingers chasing a feeling building up inside you.

“yesss good girl..ride my fingers baby just like that…you feel it? gonna come soon?”

the hand that was ones playing with your folds now finds a place on one of your tits. shes fucking you while playing with your perky nipples through your tank top and they sensitivity sends you off the edge. once again you are rendered speechless with only a frantic nod to use at your disposal.

abbys thigh lifts whilst your hips begin to stutter, insuring your movement progresses on her flexing muscle. shes pounding into you now at a pace so fast but so sweet. it doesn’t hurt anymore, in-fact its the opposite. it feels so perfect that you begin to feel a familiar sensation that scares you.

“abby, im gonna-“

“it’s okay baby give it to me.”

“n-no im-“

“i know your so close baby you can do it.”

“it feels like im gonna-“

without warning you squirt all over abbys fingers.

the initial gush from your cunt startles her. she assumed you were just going to orgasm, not soak her fingers completely. you expect her to push you off but she doesnt. her fingers leave your sopping pussy and guide your hips to ride out your high on her thigh muscles. abby cant believe how amazing you look right now. she cant believe she just made you squirt the first time you had been fingered. it was definitely going to go to her head. she reveled in how your hips stuttered awkwardly whilst you screamed in pleasure.

the both of you are a panting soaked mess. both of your hands explore each others bodies soothing out the overwhelming feelings coursing through you due to the events of what just happened. you shake slightly as abby holds you close planting soft kisses on your neck that make you sigh.

“I-Im sorry abby I didn-“

“shhhh you did so good pretty girl. you are perfect.”

she whispers in your ear before wrapping her arms around you, picking up your half naked body with ease and carrying you to the bathroom where you two would shower together, scrubbing your bodies of what would be the first of many more sexual occurrences you shared together.

***

#abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #anderson abby #abby tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby x y/n #lesbian #wlw #abby smut #abby anderson smut

1K notes · View notes

bitchiswild · 2 months

Text

Partition

G!P Winter x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Rough?, pregnancy kink, tummy bulge, creampie, face fucking, etc.

A/n: Driver roll up the partition Please😏☝️

Requested

As you and Minjeong exited the Polo Ralph Lauren show, the flashes of cameras and shouts of paparazzi surrounded us, making our escape into the waiting limo feel like a whirlwind.

"Whew," Minjeong exclaimed, breathless as she settled beside me. "The paparazzi are relentless today. You okay, babe?" Her concerned gaze met yours, and she instinctively pulled you closer, wrapping her arm around you protectively.

You leaned into her warmth, reassured by her presence. "Yeah, I'm fine," You assured her, feeling her hand soothingly rub your arm as she relayed our next destination to the driver.

"To the after party, please," she instructed the driver without hesitation.

Upon learning that traffic would delay our arrival by 45 minutes, Minjeong took it in stride, unfazed by the delay.

As we settled into the plush seats, your mind wandered back to the moments before the fashion show, when the air was charged with anticipation and desire.

"God, you're so hot, baby," Minjeong murmured, her lips trailing kisses down your neck, pinning you between her and the bathroom sink.

You let out a contented sigh, granting her access to your neck. "Mmm, Min," you moaned softly, your body responding to her touch, "not here, baby."

Minjeong's hands explored your curves eagerly, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "Why not? No one's looking for us," she husked, her lips finding yours in a hungry kiss, growing more intense by the second.

Feeling breathless and exhilarated, you gently pushed her away, promising, "Later," even as you felt her pout against your lips. We both knew the constraints of our current setting – technically, we were both 'working.'

The thought of it caused you to shift uncomfortably in the plush seat, the tight confines of the limo amplifying your discomfort. Sensing your unease, Minjeong's perceptive eyes locked onto you, her concern evident in the soft whisper that brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"You okay, baby?" Her voice was laced with genuine concern, and her touch felt like a soothing balm against my nerves.

You nodded, but the heat building up between your legs made it hard to focus. Instinctively, you started rubbing your thighs together, hoping to alleviate the growing warmth pulsating through your body.

"Yeah," You managed to stutter out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes involuntarily drifted to the faint outline of Minjeong's bulge visible through her pants, the sight only adding to the turmoil of sensations swirling inside you.

Minjeong's gaze followed yours, and in that moment, understanding flashed in her eyes. Without a word, her hands moved lower, trailing down to rub your ass in a reassuring gesture.

Realizing the need for privacy, Minjeong swiftly took charge, her voice firm as she addressed the driver, "Driver, roll up the partition and turn up the music, please." The driver met her gaze through the rearview mirror, acknowledging her request before discreetly raising the partition, effectively shielding us from prying eyes and granting us the privacy we craved. As the music filled the air, drowning out the outside world, a sense of intimacy enveloped us, heightening the anticipation of what was to

She gripped my face with a gentle urgency, pulling me closer until you could feel her warm breath teasing your lips. "Were you thinking about earlier, baby?" she asked softly, her thumb tracing the outline of your lips as her eyes bore into yours.

Caught in her intense gaze, you could only nod in response, feeling a rush of desire coursing through you at her touch and the memories of our earlier encounter flooding back.

"You're so dirty, baby," Minjeong husked, her voice low and seductive, sending a shiver down your spine. "Getting horny while we have an after-party to go to?"

Her words ignited a fire within you, and you could feel the heat pooling between your thighs, aching for her touch. With a playful smirk, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against hers teasingly. "Maybe I just can't resist you," You whispered, your voice laced with anticipation and desire, before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of her.

Minjeong responded eagerly, her lips moving against yours with a fervor that mirrored your own. The world outside the limo faded away as we indulged in the electric chemistry between us, our bodies pressed together in a tantalizing embrace.

Her hands roamed over your body, igniting trails of fire wherever they touched. You gasped softly as her fingers traced the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine. With each touch, the hunger between us grew.

Minjeong's breath hitched as she pushed you down onto your knees in front of her, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. With eager hands, she fumbled with the button of her pants, her excitement evident in the way she trembled. Finally, she managed to undo them, and with a quick tug, she yanked them down, revealing her throbbing cock straining against her underwear.

A string of precum connected her tip to the fabric as she freed herself, the slick fluid dribbling down her length. She didn't waste any time, grabbing your hair roughly and guiding your mouth to her needy member.

"Suck it, baby," she moaned, her voice thick with lust as she thrust her hips forward, pushing her cock deeper into your mouth. You gagged slightly at the sudden invasion, but Minjeong only groaned in pleasure, loving the sensation of your mouth enveloping her.

Her movements became increasingly erratic as she chased her own pleasure, thrusting into your mouth with abandon. Precum dribbled down your chin as she lost herself in the sensation, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. It was messy, sloppy, and utterly intoxicating.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Minjeong relentless thrusting caused your mascara to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the precum and saliva already coating your face. Sensing your distress, Minjeong eased up slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

With a firm grip, she wiped away the smudged lipstick, a brief respite before plunging back into the intense rhythm. "You look so fucking hot with your makeup running," she growled, her voice thick with desire. "You're such a good little cocksucker for me."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine as she pushed you back onto her throbbing cock, the wet sounds of your mouth eagerly accepting her filling the room. "That's it, take it all," she urged, her voice dripping with need. "You love sucking my cock, don't you? You're my filthy little slut, and I'm gonna use your mouth until I'm satisfied."

Your muffled moans and the sound of her hips meeting your face filled the air as Minjeong lost herself in the pleasure of fucking your face.

she gripped your hair tighter, guiding your head back and forth along her throbbing length. With each forceful thrust, she buried herself deeper into your mouth, reveling in the sensation of your warm, wet lips wrapping around her.

"Oh, fuck, you're gonna make me cum," she groaned, her voice strained with ecstasy. "You like that, huh? You like making me feel this good?"

You could only whimper in response, the overwhelming pleasure and intensity of the moment rendering you speechless as she continued to fuck your face with abandon.

Her breathing grew ragged as she neared the edge, her movements becoming more erratic with each passing second. "That's it, take it all," she panted, her grip on your hair tightening even further. "You're such a fucking good cocksucker, you know that? I'm gonna cum so hard down your throat."

With one final, desperate thrust, Minjeong reached her climax, her body tensing as she emptied herself into your mouth with a guttural moan of pleasure. Hot spurts of cum coated your tongue, the taste overwhelming and intoxicating as she rode out her orgasm with abandon.

As she finally began to come down from the peak of her pleasure, Minjeong collapsed against you, her breathing heavy and labored. "Fuck," she breathed, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "Fuck, baby, you made me feel amazing," Minjeong huskily whispered in your ear, her voice dripping with desire. With a tender kiss, she pulled you closer to her, the warmth of her lips igniting a fire within you. Then, with a sudden movement, she pushed you over the seat so that your ass was presented to her.

Her hands eagerly hiked up the bottom of your dress, revealing your soaked underwear which she wasted no time in yanking down and stuffing into her pocket. The cool air against your exposed skin sent shivers down your spine as anticipation built within you.

Without warning, Minjeong delivered a series of hard slaps to your ass, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body and leaving red marks in their wake. You couldn't help but jerk in response to the delicious sting, your senses heightened with desire.

With a firm grip, Minjeong then began to rub her hardened length between your ass cheeks, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Her tip teased your entrance, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach, driving you wild with anticipation.

"Ready for me, baby?" she growled, her voice laced with lust as she teased you mercilessly. "I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, you won't be able to think straight."

The leather seats creaked beneath you, adding to the primal atmosphere. Minjeong wasted no time, her hands gripping your hips with a fierce intensity. "Fuck, you look so fucking hot like this," she growled, her voice rough with desire as she admired the sight before her. "You're mine to fuck however I want, understand?"

You could only nod in response, the anticipation building within you as you waited for her next move. With a sudden thrust, Minjeong entered you with force, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as she filled you completely.

Her movements were rough and primal, each thrust driving you deeper into ecstasy as the limo rocked with the intensity of your passion. "You love taking my cock, don't you?" she taunted, her voice dripping with dominance. "You're such a fucking slut for me, begging for more."

With each thrust, she pushed you closer and closer to the edge, her dirty talk fueling the fire burning between you. The sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin echoed in the confined space, a symphony of pleasure as Minjeong claimed you as her own.

Your moans filled the air, a symphony of pleasure mixing with the sound of Minjeong's own primal groans. The limo rocked with the intensity of your passion, each thrust driving you deeper into ecstasy.

Minjeong's grip on your hips tightened as she increased the pace, her movements becoming even rougher as she claimed you completely. "That's it, baby, take it all," she growled, her voice filled with raw desire. "You're mine, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through you, igniting a fire within as you surrendered completely to the pleasure of being dominated by her. With each powerful thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, the intensity building with each passing moment.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Minjeong moaned, her own pleasure mingling with yours as she relentlessly pounded into you. The sound of her voice, thick with lust, only fueled your desire further, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy.

Minjeong flipped you onto your back, her movements swift and assertive. As you lay there, breathless and trembling with anticipation, she wasted no time straddling you, her eyes blazing with desire.

With a wicked grin, Minjeong positioned herself above you, her cock throbbing with need as she guided it towards your entrance. With a slow, deliberate motion, she pushed inside you, the sensation causing you to arch your back in pleasure.

As she began to move, her hips rolling in a relentless rhythm, you felt a delicious pressure building in your abdomen, a tummy bulge forming where her cock pressed against you from the inside. The sensation only added to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, driving you to new heights of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Minjeong groaned, her voice thick with desire as she rode you with increasing fervor. "You feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this."

Her words sent shivers of pleasure down your spine as you surrendered completely to the sensation of being filled by her, your moans mingling with hers in a symphony of ecstasy. As Minjeong continued to thrust into you with primal intensity, her desire reached a fever pitch. With a guttural moan of pleasure, she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear.

"Fuck, I want to put a baby in you," she growled, her voice thick with lust and longing. "I want to fill you up so good that you end up pregnant."

With each powerful thrust, Minjeong's words echoed in your mind, fueling the fire burning between you as you both surrendered to the overwhelming ecstasy of the moment. "Don't you want me to fill you up, baby?" she growled, her voice thick with desire. "Don’t you want me to pump you so full of my cum since your pussy is practically begging for a baby?"

Your moans of pleasure only fueled her primal need as she continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Yeah, that's it," she taunted, her voice dripping with lust. "You're gonna be so fucking full of me, you won't be able to walk straight for days. And when you're pregnant with my baby, you'll know who made you feel this good."

With each thrust, she drove the point home, her dirty talk sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. The idea of her filling you with her seed, of creating new life together, only intensified the passion between you. She flipped you onto your side, her hands gripping your hips with possessive force.

With a primal hunger in her eyes, Minjeong buried herself deep inside you, her thrusts growing more urgent with each passing moment. The limo rocked with the intensity of your passion as you both surrendered to the raw, unbridled desire coursing through your veins.

With each powerful thrust, Minjeong's grip on your hips tightened, her primal instincts taking over as she claimed you completely. "You're mine," she growled, her voice filled with possessive need. "Mine to fuck and fill with my seed."

As Minjeong's primal desire drove her movements, you found yourself lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment. With each powerful thrust, you couldn't help but moan in ecstasy, the sensation of her filling you completely driving you wild.

"Yes, Minjeong, just like that," you moaned, your voice filled with desperation and longing. "Right there, baby, right there."

Your words only fueled Minjeong's primal hunger as she continued to pound into you with relentless passion. The sound of your moans mingled with hers in a symphony of ecstasy, echoing through the confines of the limo.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Minjeong groaned, her voice thick with desire as she continued to pound into you with primal urgency.

The sensation of her throbbing inside you pushed you over the edge, and with a loud cry of pleasure, you felt your body convulse in ecstasy as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"Minjeong, yes!" you moaned, your voice filled with ecstasy as you surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

Minjeong reached her own climax, her body tensing as she emptied herself into you with a guttural moan of pleasure.

Minjeong gently pulled you on top of her, guiding you to sit astride her lap. Her cock still buried deep inside you, her cum leaking out of your swollen pussy, serving as a reminder of the passionate encounter you both shared.

With tender care, Minjeong began to rub your back in soothing circles, her touch a comforting balm to help you calm down from the intensity of your orgasm. Each stroke of her hand was a gesture of tenderness, a silent reassurance of her affection for you.

Just as you were beginning to catch your breath, a sudden knock on the window startled you both. "Miss Kim, we are here," a voice called from outside.

Minjeong's grip on you tightened slightly as she glanced towards the window, a hint of reluctance in her eyes. "Okay, give us a bit," she responded, her voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

As the driver's presence reminded you of the outside world, Minjeong's question brought you back to reality. "You still want to go, baby?" she asked softly, her gaze searching yours for reassurance.

Feeling a strong desire to remain wrapped up in the intimacy you shared, you shook your head no, a silent affirmation of your desire to stay together.

Minjeong nodded in understanding, a tender smile gracing her lips as she signaled to the driver. "Just drive us back to the hotel," she instructed, her voice firm yet gentle.

With a nod of acknowledgment, the driver pulled away from the curb, leaving the rest of the world behind as the two of you retreated into the private sanctuary of the hotel.

588 notes · View notes

futureman · 9 months

Text

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away.

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?”

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it.

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?”

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.”

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays.

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets.

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief.

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life.

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again.

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.”

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately.

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect.

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most.

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth.

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you��re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless.

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too.

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her.

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself.

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand.

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack.

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder.

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!”

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best.

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship.

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good.

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise.

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit.

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this.

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun.

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it.

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative.

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him.

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats.

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you.

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are.

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all.

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far.

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core.

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it.

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars.

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful.

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine."

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him.

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him.

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively.

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you.

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need.

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs.

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself.

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense.

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!"

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option.

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well.

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought.

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this.

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point.

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before?

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight.

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar.

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable.

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken.

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken.

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you.

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you.

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering.

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm.

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells.

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone.

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk.

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.”

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer.

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that.

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up.

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes.

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur.

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time.

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand.

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer.

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips.

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans.

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere.

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction.

Now, you want something else.

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either.

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all.

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken.

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie.

"Should ya be doin' that right now?"

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening.

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart.

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open.

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit.

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast.

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap.

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically.

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now.

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric.

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something.

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his.

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation.

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now."

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead.

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough.

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you.

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?"

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight.

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?”

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content.

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs.

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once.

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you.

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens.

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers.

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly.

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh.

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath.

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement.

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you.

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip.

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him.

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat.

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite.

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment.

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking.

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again.

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation.

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach.

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away.

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives.

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.”

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. ��Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful.

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free.

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately.

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache.

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that.

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does.

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would.

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could.

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

2K notes · View notes

a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

Text

a Charlie who spent the last few years kinda physically and emotionally isolated from people, now trying not to scare off the cute wounded dumpster lady she brought home-

and Charlie's still juuuuuuust out of practice enough that Vaggie (having fallen asleep sitting against a wall) not only wakes up gently covered in Charlie's coat (aww), but also with Charlie herself crouching Less Than A Foot Away From Her Face, Staring And Frowning With Worry

Vaggie: *groggy and in pain* *sees a demon* *AAAA*

Charlie: "Hi"

Vaggie: "AAAAH!!" (reflexively punches)

Charlie: (right before getting punched) "Are you feeling any bet- ARUGH!!!"

Vaggie realizing this is the nice demon? who helped her??? and she just punched the nice lady demon in the face????? hard enough to knock Charlie ass over tea kettle?????

Vaggie: (jumps up to help) "SORRY! I'm sorry I didn't-"

Vaggie: (back slams into wall)

Vaggie: "ah"

Vaggie: (faints from pain)

cute dumpster lady slumps unconscious to the floor, or rather onto the floor Charlie is already inhabiting. Charlie now has cute dumpster lady limp in her arms AND a black eye and one of these is really freaking her out

Charlie: "Oh nooooo. Oh shit oh fuck don't be dead don't be dead, first time alone with someone in years please please PLEASE don't say I've killed her- hey? Hey! Open your beautiful eyes! Y-your eye, your normal looking eye- I- Fuck fuck fuck-"

(vaggie groans)

Charlie: "-Ohhh thank hell. Whew."

next time Vaggie wakes up she thinks she's alone... until she looks around and sees Charlie peeking nervously around the edge of the open door. and it's, kinda hard to be freak out by a demon when she's huddled down as small as she can make herself, waving one finger at Vaggie tentatively, and whisper-shouting that she's got snacks and juice if Vaggie's feeling hungry

years later, Vaggie still feels really bad about the black eye thing. Charlie loves it though. she specially loves teasing that, technically, Vaggie was the one who hit on her first

Charlie: "Remember that time you punched me in the face?"

Vaggie: "I still have nightmares about it yeah."

Charlie: "I can't believe we'd barely even met, and you were already-"

Vaggie: "Babe no."

Charlie: "-you were already hitting on me~"

Vaggie: (groans in pain) (and with love)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #silly headcanons #incorrect quotes #the thing is #even with just those few seconds of canon #it's hard not to imagine them being a complete mess for each other from day one

591 notes · View notes

cupidssorbett · 8 months

Text

"What a cowboy.”

Cowboy/Vaquero Miguel x Ranch-Hand? Reader.(Beautiful art above is by Katromz on tiktok and insta!)

Summary: Miguel ends up trying to befriend his longtime friend and employers niece however maybe befriend isn't quite the word.

Includes: AFAB reader but no specified pronouns/race/looks nothing, flirting/teasing, Nicerish AU Miguel, caught masturbating, Oral M & F, recieving praise, mentions of the word 'cunt/pussy', P in V, as well as not much use of name more nicknames.

P.S Vaquero and Cowboy are the same words for those who don't know, a friend requested this so I delivered! Please pardon any terribly translated Spanish I am still learning and had only few help from a friend of mine! This was a request so thank you to my friend!

Word count: 7766.(it's a long one babes.)

By cupid.

Begin.

You’d been sent out for the summer to help your uncle at his ranch, you didn’t mind too much it’d be giving you more to do than usual. He was happy to have you since most his ranch-hands called out or would be busy trying to fill in the empty spots left by others. So when he heard his favorite niece would be dropping in to help out he was more than delighted.

It was a long, long car ride to his ranch and by the time you had arrived the sun was high in the sky and it was sweltering. You hopped out of your dad’s truck with a smile on your face, your cousin’s Poppy & Nana coming to greet you with enthusiasm, quickly taking your bags. “Look at you two, it feels like it’s been forever since we’ve hung out together!” You say as you nudge Nana’s arm, she laughs a bit as the three of you trudge up the dirt driveway up to the main house.

Poppy opens the door for you as soon as you head inside you hear a squeal from your Aunt Maria, who immediately runs over to scoop you up into a hug. “Sweetheart it has been too long!” She says excitedly as she practically squeezes the air outta you. “I missed ya too aunty but please..please let me go I can’t breathe-!” You manage out as she lets you go, “Oh my! Sorry ‘bout that sugar! It’s just been so long!” She says pinching your cheek a little. “Now, Girls go show her to her room alright? Get all cozy, Jack said he wasn’t gonna have you start work till tomorrow when he can give you the lowdown of everythin’ new.” She said shooing you three up the stairs.

You followed the girls up the stairs as they talked away, you weren’t really invested in the conversation as you looked at all the old pictures that were hung up on the walls. All those old memories made you smile, you were out of it until Poppy pulled you back into reality with a tug on the arm, albeit a hard tug, “You alright there?” She asked, raising a brow at you as nana opened the door to the room, you blinked and flashed her a smile. “Yeah just got a little out of it, this heat whew it is-” “Why don’t we head to the lake!” Nana says with a bright smile as she sets your bags on your bed, cutting you off.

“Oh I don’t know what if your dad needs me here or help with anything I’m not just here to leisure about.” You say as they both sigh dramatically, “C’mon you heard mama, papa’s not gonna need you till tomorrow!” Poppy says crossing her arms, eventually you sigh giving into them and their antics. Excitedly they leave you to get ready telling you to meet them downstairs when done. Once you are ready to go with a little bag that has sunscreen and such inside you hurry downstairs the two girls waiting for you.

You can’t help but grin with their contagious smiles, “Ma! We’re heading to the lake!” Nana calls out to her, “Be safe girls! Be back by sundown too ya hear?” She calls from the kitchen and you all respond with unanimous ‘Yes ma’am!’ before hurrying out the door giggling like a bunch of school girls as you anticipate the cool water of the lake.

It was a bit of a trek until you reached it, shoving branches aside and walking through bushes hoping none of them were poison ivy or poison at all. Once nana pushed a thick willow branch aside you sighed happily, the blue water shining under the high sun. The three of you quickly hurried to the shore finding a nice spot to lay your things.

As you and nana carefully laid things out poppy quickly ditched her shorts she wore over her swimsuit bottoms and ran into the cool water with a loud cheer. She then decided to splash the two of you, causing you to get a cheeky grin. “Oh that’s how it’s gonna be huh?” You asked playfully as you ditched your own shoes and bottoms before running into the water yourself.

The cool embrace of the lake on your warm skin made you feel completely relaxed, until you remembered your motive to run in here in the first place. The time at the lake started with games and running off the rock ledge that overlooked the lake to jump in. Splashing one another or Watching as someone did something dumb for what felt like the 100th time in those hours.

By the time the sun started to settle down in the sky you were resting on your towel as the girls continued to play in the waters. Drifting off into your own daydreams, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the fleeting rays, until you were startled awake by squeal. You assumed something had happened, so you quickly sat up pushing your sunglasses to sit on your head. “What? What happened?” you asked worried, until you saw them giggling over something or more rather..someone.

You let a slight huff at the fact they had you all worried for nothing, you however curiously followed their eyes. Wondering what could’ve caused them to squeal to begin with. Down a good way from your spots on the bank was a man, a rather handsome man you had to admit. Poppy however caught your staring and with a cheeky smile sat beside you, “Ooo! Do I sense a crush perhaps?” She said with a shit eating grin.

Waving her off you stopped staring at the mystery man, “Oh please, You think everything is a crush or love related.” you said, trying to dismiss her packing your stuff away as the sun started to set. Nana was quick to hurry outta the water spotting you and your packing, quickly just tossing her stuff in her bag as you & poppy shook your heads at her mess of a bag now.

All of you hurried back dodging branches and plants until you were on an open stretch the house coming into view, “So..” you started, earning their attention again. “Who was that guy?” you asked, keeping your gaze ahead. You heard the stifled giggles and such from them before nana caught up to you, “He is papa’s right hand man, quite the looker isn’t he?” she teased with a smile. “I suppose,” you said as you walked up the porch steps hearing their squeals and giggles. “But don’t go tellin’ anyone, I barely know that man.” you said sternly pointing at the two of them and they quickly stopped their giggling nodding as you headed inside.

Heading inside your aunt had prepared some dinner for when everyone got back, and as hungry as you were you decided to go and get a shower. Not before your uncle was quick to scoop you up in a hug much to your protest before you fake made a disgusted face before he ruffled up your hair as you headed up the stairs getting a warm shower and some dryer clothes.

After dinner and what not you were sitting upstairs with Poppy & Nana and one or two of the herding dogs, flicking through movies trying to find something to watch. Seeing as none of you could agree on anything it eventually came down to just getting some sleep, the hours at the lake tiring you out and your aunt & uncle calling out a goodnight to you three had reminded you that you’d be out helping in the morning so sleep was a good option.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The birds started chirping and the sun began to peek through the blinds, once it hit your eyes you groaned and began to open your eyes with a squint bringing a hand up to block the bright rays from practically blinding you. Sitting up blinking the sleep from your eyes you took note that it was just you and nana in the room, nana being fast asleep still.

You decided it’d be a good time to wake up and get ready so you could start helping your uncle out, you quickly brushed your hair to look less like you just got up and then you grabbed an outfit from your suitcase that would best suit the chores you’d be doing and the hot summer heat. You quickly made your way downstairs some of the dogs following you, “Mornin’ Sugar!” Aunt Maria called to her as she flipped some pancakes. “Morning Aunt Maria, Where’d poppy run off to?” you asked, snatching up a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter sharing some with the dogs.

“Oh she ran into town to fetch some more seeds for the garden, Jack told me we had extras but I know we didn’t, speakin’ of which since your most likely heading out that way mind giving those breakfast burritos on the counter the boys.” She asked using her spatula to motion to the cloth covered basket. You nodded, finishing the bacon off and grabbing the basket heading out the back door and off the porch to the main farm area and barn.

It wasn’t a long walk by any means, just one that felt long with how the sun sat so high and beating down on you, you spotted your uncle's truck out front of the barn. All the workers either sitting in the bed of the truck or leaning against it, you hurried over with a smile on your face as your uncle spotted you tipping his hat back slightly, a smile coming to his face.

“Hey there sweetheart, whatcha got?” he asked as he got up off the side of the truck walking over. “Aunty asked me to bring these breakfast burritos for you boys.” you said and they all hooted and hollered hurrying off the truck to grab one for themselves making you just laugh and shake your head. “Thank you for that darlin’ , right you all know my niece don’t you?” He asked, raising a brow as a few murmured yes’s and no’s were heard.

“Well you do now,” he said as he motioned to you, moving aside as you gave them all a wave of ‘hello’ then you spotted him, the man from the lake the other day. You didn’t realize you were staring until he made eye contact with you. A rather cheeky smile gracing his lips.

Once they were all done with their burritos the real work began. “Alright, Think you can work on feedin’ all the animals first then we can start on herdin’ the pasture ones back alright?” Your uncle asked and you nodded, “I’m on it!” you said with a smile. “How bout I send someone with ya, we’ve got a few new ones that might need some introduction, How about..Miguel!” your uncle said, clapping his hands together.

You were picking up one of the feed bags off the truck bed when a rather tall and muscular man walked up with a slight smile on his face, “Looks like I’m helpin’ you today sweetheart.” Miguel said, and oh god Miguel was the man from the lake. This realization almost had you dropping the feed bag before you quickly readjusted your hold on the bag. He only chuckled, slightly tilting his head and the brim of his hat up, giving you an even better look at his face, “Come on don’t go fallin’ for me already.' ' he teased at you.

Huffing you adjusted your grip on the bag turning on your heel with a little scoff, “You wish, I would never I barely know you.” You said as you began walking, utter bullshit, you couldn’t lie that his face, his eyes, his damn voice had you enthralled. He only let out a hearty chuckle following you carrying a bag or two of his own, “Then why not get to know me?” He suggested, shaking his head as you sped up your walking speed.

When you finally reached the animals you breathed a sigh of relief, quickly hurrying over to say ‘hello’ to all of them forgetting about Miguel following after you, he stood off to the side as he opened some of the bags watching as you excitedly said ‘hello’ to the ones you knew, all calling them by name then excitedly gasping at the ones you didn't know.

He had to admit he found it amusing, cute even at the way you greeted them all. He had to, he just had to, he cleared his throat which brought you back to your little situation causing you to huff almost and it only made him chuckle as he pushed a feed bag, ready and open your way. You grabbed the bag, opened the pen door and made your way inside without him, starting to fill up all the feeding spots walking about.

Miguel thought this would be a good time to start a conversation, “So, Why do ya keep ignoring me?” he asked and you just hummed in response, “I’m not.” You denied, “Ah-Ah just now you almost did.” He said looking at you, that stupid look on his face had you smiling slightly and rolling your eyes. Trying to look away before he caught it, but oh he caught it. “Hey! I saw that, I made a breakthrough!” He says motioning around to a nonexistent crowd almost proud of himself causing you to shake your head with a slight smile.

You two finished up the feeding chores with relative ease, the tension simply melting away as you two actually got to talking with one another actually getting to know more like he suggested, then you started saddling up some of the horses so they could head out to check for any lost or still loose cattle or sheep. You finished tightening one of the straps, patting the nose of the horse, a smile on your face when it responded with a big sloppy lick to your hand. “Alright, Are we ready to get a move on?” he asked as he took the reins from your hand. “Yep, All saddled up.” you said with a little salute.

“Thank you sugar, how bout you go feed the calves while we’re gone if you're up for it?” your uncle asked, hoping on the horse. “I can’t say no to feeding the calves,” you said with a smile. With a few waves and goodbyes you went off in search of the bottles that had the formula for the calves that were rescued and didn’t exactly take to any cow the ranch had. You grabbed the bucket of bottles and took a seat in the stable stall with one of the babies. Taking the bottle out, the little thing came running and it made you laugh.

You held the bottle up for it and at first it went well until it didn’t somehow, something had gotten on the shirt underneath your overalls and that was not sitting well on your skin with heat in the air. So you thought, hey they wouldn’t be back for maybe an hour or two at most so you unclipped the clips of your overalls and took the shirt off letting it rest on the table that had all the tools and such then you clipped your overalls back up and when right back to taking care of the calves.

To you only 30 maybe 40 minutes had gone by so you still weren’t too worried about putting that shirt back on or heading back to the house as you happily wandered the stable saying ‘hello’ to the horses that stayed behind. Blissfully unaware that Miguel had headed back to grab the hat he had forgotten, quickly making his way inside of the stable. Stopping his tracks quietly when he spotted you petting one of the horses and it seemed innocent enough until his eyes seemed to wander lower..to the point where he noticed you were not wearing a shirt under your overalls. And not wanting to make you uncomfortable or wanting to make anything else happen he just gave up grabbing his hat and left as quietly as possible.

When you had assumed they’d be coming back you went and got the shirt off the workbench and put it back on quickly as the cowboys came into view. You put on a smile and looked ahead as they made their way over and started hopping their horses all saying their ‘hellos’ and such but Miguel just completely ignored you, was he not going on about you ignoring despite barely knowing him earlier? What a hypocrite.

You just shrugged it off, what would it matter really, you said a quick ‘hello’ to your uncle as you checked the time, you had promised you’d spend the last few hours before the sun actually set at the lake with the girls and you had to depart to get ready. Simply brushing off Miguel ignoring you, you went back to the main house to change and once you were done you headed off however little did you know you’d spend your time alone at the lake..well for a little bit at least.

You relaxed on the bank for a little bit taking in the sun's rays after applying sunscreen of course, waiting thinking maybe they’d got busy or something. So you went from enjoying the water to resting on the shore to reading the book you brought until you exhaled a bit annoyed. You got up, gathered your things, slipped your shorts back on and made your way back to the main house in a slight huff.

When you opened the door your aunt seemed to pick up on your bad mood, “What’s the matter pumpkin?” she asked as she dried her hands with the towel. “The girls told me to meet them at the lake and then they just didn’t come!” you said with arm motions. She seemed to shake her head and sigh, “Well if your looking to pick a bone with them they might’ve gone down to the guest house to deliver the fruit like I asked, the one where the cowboys are stayin’.” She said, giving you a little nod. You thanked her begrudgingly before starting your way to the guest house, saying hello to the cowboys you saw as you headed by whether they were lugging hay or simply just passing by.

You got to the guest house and opened the front door, it was rather empty, and you didn’t hear any giggling, not even a hint of your cousin’s voices, you raised your brow carefully making your way down the hallway. You continued until you saw a door slightly creaked open, you neared it hoping maybe your cousin’s were just fooling around here and that you could drag them back. But that idea quickly evaporated as you neared closer you heard..grunts? At first you thought it was one of pain but when you got a view of what was behind the just barely opened door you quickly realized it was not one of pain rather of pleasure.

There Miguel laid on presumably his bed, legs spread slightly, cowboy hat resting lazily over his head, pants just barely down his thighs as his head moved up his hard erection..precum leaking from the red angry tip. You couldn’t help but stare, biting back the gasps with a hand over your mouth. His teeth sucking his bottom lip back slightly exposing his sharp canines that had you feeling some kind of way, but oh boy it just got better as soon as you mindlessly dropped your hand from your mouth he muttered out your name, “Dios... Ni siquiera sé cómo me hiciste esto..(God... I don't even know how you did this to me.)” He murmured out in Spanish as he hissed when he glided his thumb over the leaking slit.

Miguel was lost in his own thoughts, his mind flitting back to when he saw you in the stable in nothing but your shoes and overalls. He groaned out as he moved his hand up, he knew it was wrong and dirty not just for the fact that he was just getting to know you but the fact he wished it was your hands and not his then he was snapped back to reality by a noise..

You gasped and your gasp got his attention causing you to quickly hide behind the wall before he could spot you, when you heard him moving off the bed you were quick to run as quietly down the hallway. Your feet carried you quickly as you hurried out of the guest house not wanting to get caught in the slightest.

Your heart felt like it was in your ears, your cheeks felt hot, hell your whole body felt hot. You hurried quick and fast to the main house, your feet just carrying you inside as you gave a quick ‘hello’ to your Aunt before going to your room flopping onto your bed. Burying your head into your pillow and just screaming muffling it.

God..he was thinking about YOU? That had your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest, you rolled onto your back as you stared at the ceiling that moment replaying in your head causing you to subconsciously rub your thighs together before you brought your hands up to smack your cheeks, mentally cursing yourself for feeling this way.

Huffing you sat up on the bed grabbing your journal you brought with you, “God..Was he really thinking about me? But why,” you murmured as you flipped out the journal trying to write it out of your mind at least so you could push it off and act as if normal. By the time you finished you were called down for dinner and you just inhaled and exhaled pushing it to the back of your mind shoving the Journal under your pillow and heading down.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

By the time dinner was done you and poppy were helping with the dishes as a few of the cowboys stopped by to drop off some stuff and there he was again, you quickly looked away as he spotted you offering you a sweet smile and tilt of his hat. You only just ignored him continuing your conversation with poppy and working on the dishes.

When you finished you quickly dried your hands not wanting to stick around for very long you couldn’t even fathom why seeing him again got you so much more worked up than it should. “I’m headin’ to bed really tired, Night everyone!” you called quickly as you hurried up the stairs to your bedroom causing Miguel and a few others to raise a brow before just brushing it off to turn to their own things.

You inhaled sharply and exhaled laying onto your bed, your hands traveling gingerly down your stomach to the hem of your pj shorts. Your fingers slipping past the hem of the shorts to your panty clad cunt, exhaling slightly as your fingers brushed over your cunt that slight pressure you added caused your body to melt slightly into your pillows. Your mind clouding with thoughts of him, before the sound of someone coming upstairs snapped you back to reality.

You quickly pulled away from your shorts and grabbed a random book from the nightstand to act as if you were reading. Poppy and Nana came bursting in with a movie for the three of you to watch and you all but sighed happily as it was something to completely take your mind off it.

The movie was put in and the lights were turned off getting all cozy in your beds and watching the movie until you all but fell asleep..

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

For the next few days you did your best to keep your distance from Miguel but your hard-headedness to stay away from him only had him more intrigued and always earned a laugh from him because you always denied his questions whenever he asked one and you denied his help just to make it easier, but it seemed to fail every now and again considering your help to your uncle’s work and with him always having the cowboys with him you only ever saw him everyday..

The next morning came and you decided you’d just avoid Miguel completely and only interact if you just HAD to interact with him thinking that it would be best especially because of the way you made him feel and with the way he had you feeling even if you were just getting to know him better.

Today you dawned a nice summer dress as you were going to help your Aunt in the garden to keep a distance between you and him. You put on a sun hat and followed your Aunt out to the garden to work on the precious marigolds she had planted that were getting swallowed by the pesky weeds.

Dropping down onto your knees and getting to work right away you heard a clatter of tools causing your head to whip around to where it came from, and god fucking dammit you swore nothing was on your side this week, it was miguel, tool belt beside him and a few fence posts as he shot you an apologetic smile. “Sorry bout’ that didn’t mean to startle you act like I’m not here.” you only hummed in response, turning your attention back to the flowers.

Digging into the dirt yanking weed after weed out as the sun began to rise high into the sky above, causing you to start to sweat under the hot rays. You huffed sitting back on your heels as you dusted your hands off of dirt with the exception of some stuck under your nails. Miguel heard your little huff and his eyes happened to wander your way, gazing unapologetically up your figure, your flushed face and slightly pouted lips catching his attention.

He cleared his throat slightly, turning his attention back to the fence, “You doin’ alright Miss?” he asked, tipping his hat back slightly. You just hummed in response earning a small frown from him, “What?” you asked, raising a brow. “How come you keep ignorin’ me, I thought we were making progress?” he said as he looked at you.

“Well, You started it when you came back from the stable that day and completely ignored me.” you shot back as you crossed your arms, “I did not I was just busy,” he said more matter of factly. The way he seemed so hurt by your antics had you feeling bad almost, you eventually sighed dropping your arms to your side. “Alright fine I have been but I ain’t telling you why, BUT I will make a better effort to stop ignoring you I suppose.” You said and you watched as his face brightened slightly.

“Well I think I’d be the happiest cowboy around,” He said with that stupid smile, “You're so weird.” You stated, shaking your head and turning your attention back to the weeds. He only laughed and went right back to his job, that’s what sparked the two of you talking again, you knew deep down you weren’t gonna be able to ignore him even if you tried because that really only made things awkward so you decided it would be best to try and be his friend.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

That is how you spent some of your days, getting to know him and then spilling your feelings to your little diary and then going right back at being friendly, well one fateful day you made the mistake of leaving your diary not entirely under your pillow.

You were helping Miguel lug some hay to the truck and you exhaled, noticing the way your skin was getting a little red, “Damn, Hey Miguel could you go to my room and grab my sunscreen for me? I’ll finish loading up the hay if you do.” You said giving him a little smile and he sighed with a laugh. “Alright alright I’ll go fetch it, Where would I find it?” He asked stopping in his tracks.

“On the nightstand!” You called back as you grabbed another bale, he nodded giving you a little salute before setting off. He headed inside offering a polite ‘hello’ to your aunt before going upstairs finding your room and heading inside. Originally he was just here to grab the sunscreen and go but a little book peeking out from behind your pillow had him curious.

He stopped for a moment before he eventually caved and carefully picked it up in his hands, just a peek, it wouldn’t hurt really. Just a peek turned into reading some pages and skipping others, that was until he stumbled upon some of the more..explicit pages and they seemed to be about him. God he felt his pride swell, the way you thought about him and looked at him.

“Well damn little lady..” Miguel murmured with a slight smile on his face before he shut the journal, having now learned about your developing crush on him and the way you thought about him. He grabbed the sunscreen and headed back down and out with a curt tip of his hat.

You noticed when he was walking back he had a little beat to his steps causing you to smile and raise a brow as you took the sunscreen from him. “What’s got you so happy go lucky?” you asked as you applied some on your face and arms and he just hummed in response. “Eh no particular thing, can’t a man just be happy hm?” He teased you and you playfully swatted at his arm. Once you were all good with the sunscreen you two got back to work, all the moving and feeding and more moving of stuff had you both out till the sun was settling near the mountain tops.

“Hm, Looks like we should start headin’ back Miguel.” You said looking at the way the sun was settling, “Ah right, can’t believe the day slipped away from us that damn quick.” He said as he adjusted his hat to sit back on his head slightly, you couldn’t help but admire his features slightly before snapping yourself out of it. “Miguel, I was wondering if you, I mean if you and any of the cowboys would like to come down to the main house for a lunch of sorts,” Miguel smiled coyly at your little invitation, “Oh? You're inviting little ol’ me huh?” he said his smile went from coy to smug and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You wish, I’m doing it as a request from my aunt.” You said lying through your teeth, no you were wholeheartedly inviting Miguel, using your aunt as an excuse so he didn’t see right through you. However that was long gone really, he already saw right through you, you and your dirty little thoughts with the way you looked at him and what he learned from your diary. He dramatically put a hand over his heart, “I am truly honored sugar,” he joked causing you to roll your eyes again starting your way back to the main house.

His smile never leaving his face,”See ya tomorrow sweetheart,” he laughed as you turned away from him quickly heading back to the main house to wash up for dinner, he knew damn well what he was going to do tomorrow to get you alone and he couldn’t wait.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

He spent his day counting down the minutes till he could meet you for lunch well you and your family really, when he saw how the time neared closer he had gone back to the guest house to freshen up opting for a nicely pressed shirt, one of his nice belts, and some jeans that he knew you thought looked damn good on him. Grabbing his hat swiftly and the sunflowers he got just for today.

Making sure he didn’t look too eager he toned down his steps and his excitement, knocking on the front door adjusting his grip on the flowers. He heard you call out ‘I got it!’ before your footsteps followed, opening the door you were the picture of summer. Wearing a nice little sundress, hair more loose and free, and a smile creeping its way onto your face. “Howdy little miss.” He said his southern drawl coming out more has he held the flowers out to you.

You accepted them gratefully, “Miguel you really didn’t have to-” “I wanted to sugar, there’s a difference.” He hummed as he walked inside with you greeting your aunt and uncle with his usual polite demeanor and then greeting your cousins with that smile of his. You couldn’t help but grin, going and finding a vase for the flowers. “He’s a real nice boy ain’t he?” your aunt asked, having noticed your grin.

Still subconsciously smiling as you filled the vase with water you shrugged, “Yeah I suppose he is.” She just laughed a bit as she brought the food and drinks to the table with you following behind her setting the beautiful sunflowers as the centerpiece. Calling everyone to the table for lunch, you settled into your seat, Miguel sitting in the seat beside you which was across from your uncle so they could continue whatever conversation they were having.

You all served yourselves and then conversations began, it felt like most lunches with the addition of Miguel, little did you know what he was planning. He knew how the herding dogs were so when your aunt went to grab the pitcher of juice he sneakily tossed a piece of food underneath the table causing all of them to make a run for the food bumping your aunt’s chair, the pitcher of juice ended up splashing all over your sundress causing you to squeal and jump up.

You quickly excused yourself to hurry up stairs to remove the splotches of color that had begun to seep into the fabric more and more. Miguel excused himself as well, saying he had a call to take and it was rather important. Your family thought nothing of it, just hoping you’d be alright. He headed up the stairs with ease as he heard the sink start to run. Inside you had grabbed a cloth and began to rub at the stains without much thought.

Then a knock sounded and you sighed thinking it was your Aunt or cousins you opened it, it was Miguel. “Ah- I’m sorry I’m tryin’ to-” Miguel cut you off, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I know how to get pesky stains out especially ones that ruin such a nice dress.” You blinked the nickname felt less innocent for some reason especially with the way he was looking at you.

You cleared your throat allowing him to come in and shut the door as he kneeled down digging through the cabinets, “Ah here we are,” He said holding some bleach, “This oughta help somewhat.” He hummed as he dabbed a cloth with some leaning forward looking at you for your permission. You nodded slowly and he brought the cloth to one of the stains, wiping gently. His touch so gentle and soft had your stomach erupting in butterflies.

You felt your arousal grow slightly from his little touches and ministrations and the way he always looked to you with those eyes as a way of asking. You couldn’t help but stare at him, analyzing his features and then a chuckle erupted from his chest causing you to snap back to the situation. “Darlin’ If you keep staring at me that way I might just have to do what your little diary says.” the mention of your diary as your cheeks flushing red and your heart speeding up more than it was before. “I beg your pardon?” was all you could manage out.

He chuckled, setting the cloth aside and moving closer, “I didn’t wanna tell you this sugar but I’ve read your little journal and all the thoughts you think bout me.” He whispered softly against your ear causing you to shudder slightly. “Miguel I can explain-” You started, “Shh, Shh no need sweetheart, I know exactly what you need.” He said softly as he leaned closer, his lips hovering just away from yours. “Question is, do you really want this?” He asked wanting to really make sure this wasn’t some wet dream or that it wasn’t you who felt this way. You swallowed hard as you exhaled shakily, nodding, “Words sugar.” He said softly against your lips. “Yes Miguel, Please.” You pleaded slightly and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodness little miss your going to be the death of me.” He teased before your lips met.

It started out soft and sweet then grew into something more passionate and rough as his hands rested on your hips, his thumbs tracing patterns on the cloth that covered them. You pulled away for air, your breathing coming out in small pants and huffs. “Look at you..Kiss bitten lips all needy for me.” Miguel said with a slight smug smirk, “I’m not needy.” You shot back at him with a small huff.

His hand went from your hips to your thigh working up to your panty covered clit, a gasp eliciting from your throat. “Not so needy huh?” he teases as he rubs a thumb over your covered clit groaning at the way your arousal has made your panties wet. “Not-Not needy at all,” You managed out as a whine followed your words when his hand moved away.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t,” He started before you sighed, “Please Miguel..” You murmured, earning a smile from him, “Please what?” he said, pushing you on. “I need you.” you whined out earning a satisfactory chuckle, his hands found your waist and he hoisted you up to sit on the counters of the bathroom. His lips immediately find your inner thigh, sucking marks into the soft skin.

His hands wander as you let out small gasps and cries trying to be quiet, as you beg for him, as you beg TO him. God he never really thought his little idea would work but here he was buried in between your thighs, what a dream. His lips inched closer and closer to where you wanted him, he gently pulled your panties down and off. Then he licked a slow stripe up your folds eliciting a moan from you causing you to cover your mouth.

You could practically feel the smile he had on his face, he began eating you out like you were the last meal he’d ever eat. His tongue working your leaking hole then focusing directly on your clit. Humming gently when his lips wrapped around the sensitive bud causing a guttural noise to slip past your hand. His pace is unforgivable with the way he’s eating you.

He acts like he's a starved man eating the most delicious food alive and he just can’t stop, one hand keeping your thighs apart and the other massaging the soft supple skin. The way he alternates between tongue fucking you then sucking at your clit has your head in the cloud feeling like your on cloud nine.

Without warning he shoves two fingers in causing you to gasp at the surprise feeling, his fingers working slowly but surely in a soft pace to give you time until you're practically begging for more and he gives you more. His fingers curl in the right spots as he pumps his fingers in and out of you sloppily kissing and licking at your clit.

All the stimulation has your head reeling as a knot forms in your stomach, he doesn’t stop, he makes direct eye contact with you with that smug smile on his face as the knot snaps. Your velvety walls spasming around his fingers as you orgasm, your eyes shut tight as he laps up all of it slowly letting you down from your high as you exhale sharply when he removes his fingers.

His hands come to make quick work of his belt and jeans bringing his boxers and jeans just low enough for his painfully hard cock to spring out. You can’t help but stare as he works it slightly, your mouth practically hanging open at the sight of it, precum beading at the tip as he works it slightly lining his head up with your entrance.

He looks to you for another affirmation and you nod looking up at him with those pleading eyes again and he can’t say no to you. He nudges his head in before plunging in full force eliciting a loud moan from your lips and groans from his with how tight you are around him. “God..So tight, such a good girl I swear.” he murmurs as he begins thrusting into your cunt, the praise causing your pussy to flutter around him. He acknowledged this with a little smirk.

“You like that huh? You like being my good girl,” He huffs out earning a whine from you, he lands a small slap to your ass causing a yelp to fall from your lips. “I asked you a question.” He said gruffly his change in attitude had your stomach feeling butterflies. “Yes, Yes s’good Miguel!” You cried out as his pace became relentless. His smirk remained at the way you reacted to all of this. His hands have a grip on your hips that’ll most definitely bruise without a doubt.

His face finds itself in the crevice of your neck placing soft kisses and words of praise into your ear, your mind practically melts from all of this as he fucks you with such a pace, the sound of skin slapping and your muffled whines and cries becoming evident as he continues on. Your legs come to wrap around his back slightly as he pulls his face away to watch where you two connect. “Tan condenadamente apretada, tan buena para mí.(So damn tight, so good for me.)” He managed out as your walls fluttered around him, having a vice on his cock.

“That feel good? Hm?” he asked knowing damn well your practically fucked dumb at this point, nodding your eyes fluttering open as he comes to rhythmic pace that’s hitting all the right spots for you. He continues to praise you and kiss up your neck leaving marks occasionally just because he can. With the way your walls clench around him he can tell your close, his free hand comes down to rub circles on your clit making you gasp and your head loll back onto the mirror behind you.”So damn needy for me..Taking all you can get.” he chuckled out.

“I’m not needy,” you managed out best you could as you took his hat from him, He shook his head at your hard-headedness “Eres tan terco…(You are so stubborn..)” He huffed out with a chuckle, quickly taking his hat back from you as you shot him a mischievous smile even in your mind melted state. Rolling your hips eliciting a groan from the cowboy who tossed his head back, his hat covering his face.

He hums slightly, leaning down to plant kisses on your collarbone and shoulder, “That’s how you wanna play huh?” he murmurs into your skin, his pace picking up almost knocking the air out of you, the lewd noises that spill from your lips spur him on, and that familiar knot tightens in your stomach, then the coil snaps and your cunts warm walls restrict around him and he can’t help but groan before he quickly pulls out before he can cum. Causing a small whine from you at the loss of feeling full.

“You wanna play games then we can play games sugar.” He says as he brings you off the counter onto your knees, you swallow thickly as you gently kitten lick the tip of his cock, soft and slowly. Teasing him with it, earning low groans and even slight whines from him. You don’t get very far with your tricky endeavors before he bucks his hips slightly causing you to gag around it. “Sorry bout that darlin’ just can’t help myself.” he says with a slight smile.

You start a steady pace, your hands resting on his thighs as you bob your head back and forth, your nose touching the tip of his pelvis before you pull off of him just to tease him again. He groans out before laughing slightly, his hand coming to find itself behind your head. “God you are just a little tease ain’tcha.” he says before thrusting into your mouth, causing you to gag slightly and pat his thighs. Tears welling in your eyes.

“Shh shh, it’s alright just relax.” He says softly and you try to, finding a steady breathing pace through your nose and relaxing your throat slightly. He begins face fucking your practically, drool coming to spill from the side of your mouth and nose tickling his pelvis as the hums you produced in response to his praises elicited groans and huffs from him.

His pace was rhythmic until it became erratic, his breathing becoming more uneven, “Don’t think I’m gonna last any longer.” Miguel huffs out as his pace becomes more needy. You hum around him and he groans, begging you to do that again and you oblige, humming around his length gagging slightly. The sensations send him over the edge after a few more thrusts his cum spurts down your throat causing you to swallow out of reflex, he slowly pulls out a string of spit connecting him to your kiss bitten drool covered lips. God the sight of alone could have had him going again he leaned forward wiping a thumb over your lip to wipe the drool away as you swallowed.

He planted a small kiss on your temple, “You're just perfect darlin’.” He praises making you smile slightly as he helped you stand up, a hand resting on your hips. “Maybe we should head back down, Wouldn’t want your family to worry too much.” you hummed in response, “I’m gonna change first, you go on down.” you said softly planting a kiss to his cheek as you carefully exited the bathroom to go back to the room.

Could this be the start of something real with this cowboy?

Fin.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #cupidssorbettlibrary #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #cowboymiguel #cowboy

1K notes · View notes