#I’m a bit late but shhh

[nahoney22]

Hello, Sunshine! Congrats on the 4000!! I'm honoured to count myself between those 🙌🏼

I would like to make a request, so I can join in the festivities. I've been thinking hard to give you something nice, and suddenly an idea struck me, so I humbly offer it to you:

Female reader/Tech (no surprise here, right?), pre-relationship, for some accidental reason (up to you) Tech touches her hair/skin gloveless, and he becomes fascinated by how soft it is (he is a soldier, but I'm sure he appreciates fine things), and I'm picturing him here with a slightly addictive personality, so he starts touching and petting her, kind of absent-mindedly while he is working, or she goes next to him (or at that same moment, tho, whatever fits you better). Reader starts getting flustered because those fingers, am I right. I can see a NSFW ending, but if it doesn't come to you, it's fine.

I would just love to see this idea played out in your style!

Thank you so much! And more than anything, have fun!

Just A Little More***

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 3k

Tech had never struck you as the touchy-feely type so why is it when he asks you to do repairs for him that he just can’t keep his hands to himself and how can you get his hands to move elsewhere?

warnings: NSFW 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language, non established relationship, accidental caressing, slightly touchy-feely Tech but SFW, first kiss, skin kisses, Intercrural sex (thigh sex/thigh job), handjob, minor nipple play, friends to lovers. Not proofread.

authors note: Thank you for the request my beautiful @doublesunsets and apologies for the huge wait! Hope this is okay🤍

You're feeling perplexed.

Though, It's not necessarily an unusual sensation since joining The Bad Batch and adapting to their peculiar ways of living and combat. However, your current confusion reached a peak a few days back.

Tech had summoned you beneath the ship for repair assistance and out of nowhere, he began tracing his fingers along your forearm. You looked at him, then your arm, and then back at him as he remained absorbed in his task, and for some reason, you refrained from questioning his actions. You gathered that perhaps he was so engrossed in his task that he didn't realise he was touching you, and so you dismissed it as an accident.

Yet, it persisted. He continued seeking your help, tasks usually assigned to Echo, and despite assigning you a task, his hand consistently found its way to your arm, fingers casually brushing against your skin. It was peculiar but not entirely unwelcome.

This routine persisted for a week until the last occurrence compelled you to finally seek an explanation.

One evening in the confined space of your bunk, your face bathed in the dim glow of your datapad's screen when a message notification from Tech pops down. The request for assistance in the cockpit sparks a strange sensation in your chest – a mix of nerves and intrigue, perhaps. Without letting him wait for a response, you place the datapad down and traverse through the ship.

Upon entering the cockpit, the soft hum of the machinery surrounds you. But there in the pilot's seat is Tech, immersed in his own datapad, donned in his underarmour wear. The steady rhythm of his fingers tapping on the screen adds to the ship's ambient sounds and your footsteps echo softly as you approach.

Hearing your approach, Tech glances up, pushing his goggles up his nose with a subtle yet distinct motion. "Ah, there you are.”

"Here I am," you respond with your hands on your hips, a hint of awkwardness in your voice as a sudden wave of shyness washes over you. But non-surprisingly, Tech doesn't seem to notice.

He goes ahead and explains the task at hand—helping with wiring under the control panel. Following the usual protocol, you swiftly retrieve the necessary tools and gloves. As you slide on your gloves, you notice Tech doing the opposite, peeling his off, a recurring behaviour over the last few days.

With your curiosity getting the better of you after the last few days, you inquire, "What are you doing?" His confusion is evident as he looks at you, brows furrowed. When you gesture to his now bare hands, your gloved ones drawing attention, he seems momentarily flustered.

"Oh... I am not too sure," he mumbles, hastily putting the gear back on before moving toward the control panel, ready to slide underneath.

His genuine confusion hints that it might be learned behavior—perhaps he grew accustomed to the contact, and the lack of questions made it a norm. So, setting aside these thoughts, you join him under the control panel, observing his nimble fingers at work with the wires. Although his explanations might be slipping past your ears, you find enjoyment in watching him in his element. As you assist with holding the wires and passing over tools, a subtle but palpable shift in the air suggests that something feels different.

A subtle warmth builds beneath your clothes, and you attribute it to the close proximity to Tech, though the unfamiliar mix of nerves and intrigue from before confuses you even more.

The absence of his gentle touches leaves you feeling somewhat adrift, and a part of you yearns for that contact once again. It's a peculiar sensation, considering he seemed unaware of it all.

Caught in your internal questioning, Tech, too, is in a trance of his own. His nimble fingers have paused in their task, and instead, he's captivated by the scent and touch of your hair brushing against his cheek. With your head tilted to the side, loose strands cascade down, lightly grazing over his cheek.

He knows the smell.

It’s the hair care product you had begged him to add to the list of resources once in a supply run because as you once said ‘if I’m gonna kick arse, I want my hair soft, shiny and smelling good in the process’. And for some reason, he said yes. Maybe he was soft on you or maybe it was because you constantly asked and he was getting a headache.

He wasn’t sure but what he did know was that it was soft.

And shiny.

And smelt beautiful.

The moment holds a certain intimacy, yet neither of you seemed to notice eachothers reactions; both of you lost in your own thoughts.

Tech swiftly resumes his task, jolting into action after a subtle shift from you beside him, and a focused silence envelops the cockpit. You exhale softly, attempting to steady your breathing and cool the warmth beneath your clothes. Blinking, you glance away from his hands, awkwardly holding the small screwdriver he had asked you to handle a few moments ago.

As he finishes, both of you slide out from under the control panel. Surprisingly, you find Tech standing there with his now ungloved hand outstretched towards you.

Pausing for a moment, you look at his hand and then to him, a curious desire to test his reaction arising. Deciding to slip your gloves off first, the motion seems to momentarily freeze him. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, and you seize the opportunity to slip your bare hand into his outstretched one.

His hand is warm, perhaps a bit sweaty, but the touch feels natural, fitting. With a gentle tug, he helps you onto your feet, but instead of releasing your hand, he continues to hold it. His gaze fixates on your intertwined hands, and his thumb lightly brushes over your skin, sending a subtle thrill through you.

As your heart quickens and the warmth intensifies, your eyes remain fixed on his face, searching for clues.

Unable to wonder any longer, you break the silence with a whispered yet firm question, "What's going on, Tech?" His trance is broken, and he shifts his gaze from your hand to your eyes. With a clearing of his throat, he attempts to conjure an excuse to leave the cockpit, but as he moves past you, you grab his arm, pulling him to a halt.

"I don't think so. Tell me what this is about.” The air is charged with anticipation as you await his response.

"Well, alright," he starts, turning back to face you but struggling to meet your gaze. "Would you believe me if I said I did not know?"

You blink at him but offer a small smile, "Tech, I'd believe you if you said this whole planet was made out of cheese."

Seeing him relax, you notice a slight smile as he moves to lean against the control panel, folding his arms over his chest. "I suppose my only reasoning behind it is that I am not used to such contact. Nor am I used to touching something… soft."

You raise a brow, slightly amused, but a small flutter stirs in your chest at his words. "You think my hands are soft?"

"Yes," he admits, a subtle raspiness in his tone, "immensely."

The heat of the blush intensifies as Tech's sweet compliments linger in the air, leaving you somewhat flustered. Your attraction to him, always present, takes on a new depth as you watch him work up close and feel his touch.

His words almost make you crumble, and you find yourself at a loss for a proper response, opting instead for a playful comment about the soap bar you use.

"Ah yes, I have seen it in the refresher," he notes, his hands now behind him, gripping the edge of the control panel. His fingers strum somewhat nervously, creating a subtle melody in the air.

Nervously chewing on your lip, the action doesn't escape Tech's notice as his skin grows warm as you both stand in an awkward silence, unsure of the next move. It's you who takes the initiative, closing the distance with a step closer.

"You know, you can carry on touching me if it makes you feel better," you suggest, and Tech's eyes slightly widen.

"It is not an action that makes me feel 'better,' so to speak," he explains, visibly relaxing, "but it is just a sensation that I have been enjoying. If it made you feel uncomfortable in any way, you should tell me."

A soft giggle escapes you, and this time, you come to a stop directly in front of him. Gently reaching for his hand, you bring it into your own. "If I had a problem with it, I would've said. I also wouldn't be doing this."

The touch carries a subtle yet intentional message, one that surprisingly resonates with Tech. Not known for his overt emotional responses, he acknowledges the unspoken connection between you two. "I suppose not," he nods, standing tall. His fingers trace over yours, a silent exploration mapping every scar and freckle.

“They are so soft.” He mumbles more to himself than he does to you, seemingly in a complete trance.

You watch him, like you had done for the last few days and you can’t help but feel like you’ve read the situation between you both correctly. So, summoning your courage just above a whisper you say, “I’m pretty soft in other places too.”

He halts for a moment, meeting your gaze with wonder. “I can not lie and say that that did not sound arousing… and inviting.”

You raise a brow, a cocky yet enticing smirk on your lips. “Maybe it was an invitation?”

Tech has no words, he doesn’t know what else to say but instead watches as you take a step back from him and start to pull your shirt away from your body.

You stand in front of him, shirtless.

He didn't need Hunter's senses for this; he could smell you, almost taste you. Your skin had a glow amidst the dim lights of the ship, and his nostrils filled with the faint mist of your soap.

The subtle aroma encapsulated the moment, heightening the sensory experience as his eyes continued to explore the intricate details of your body. The air in the cockpit seemed charged with a connection that was too intense to deny.

“You are beautiful.”

Your eyes shine at his words and you naturally move back towards him, his hands instinctively moving to your waist where you inhale a sharp gasp, your skin tingling at his touch alone. “Do you want me, Tech?”

His fingers trail along your skin and you see him dab his lips idly with his tongue. “More than I have ever wanted anything before.”

Grinning, you nod for him as a go ahead as you lean yourself against the console as his hold on you tightens, dexterous fingers dancing against your skin until they land at the buckle of your pants, a teasing tug suggesting he wanted to see all of you.

“Go ahead,” you rasp, mouth salivating as Tech hums in approval and helps you slide your pants down to your ankles.

Cool air hits your skin followed by the warmth of his hand moving down to the curve of your arse, muttering something quietly to himself which has you giggling under his touch.

“Something amusing?” He quips, hands moving from your arse to your breasts, fondling them gently.

“This is the quietest I’ve seen you is all.”

Chuckling he says, “When I am in deep thought, experiencing my desires, I tend to fall quiet.”

“Desire, hm?” You purr. Tech slowly begins circling you, letting his trained hands, so often equipped with his datapad, tools, blasters now caress every single inch of your nude skin. With a grasp at your hips, your back is dragged to his chest, his hands on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Desire…fascination…lust…” he grins as you gasp, his hands cupping both of your breasts, your head lolling back into his shoulder.

“Tech,” you whine, legs trembling as his fingers brush over your stiffening nipples, pinching them between his fingers.

“Yes, dear? Do you like this sensation?” He breathes down your ear, lips brushing against your lobe before they move to your shoulder, a sweet kiss planted.

“Mm, yeah- s’good.” You wriggle against him, your arse pressed to his solid cock.

He sighs against you in pleasure, playing with your tits as you move your hands behind you, cupping him between his legs, heart racing as you gather how big and ready he was for you.

“I can help with that.” He grunts as he moves one hand away from you, tugging himself out of his pants so you can get a firm hold and as your hand grips his heated length he lets out a beautiful whine of his own.

“Fuck,” Tech ruts agaisnt your soft hand, everything he had been wanting to feel around his cock becoming reality. He finally spins you to face him, nearly knocking you off your feet as his lips crash to yours, desperate and full of passion.

“You’re wonderful.” His groan is guttural, lips moving from yours down your neck, over your collar bones until they latch to one of your nipples, sucking and ever so gently biting at the peaks before he laves his tongue flat against your flesh.

You curse, his pace slow and tantalising as his hand strokes your other breast, feeling its weight in his hand and thumbing your plump nipple.

Clit throbbing with an unmet need for attention, you cry out his name and he removes his mouth with a small pop, he places a tender kiss to your lips.

“Can I try something?” You are flushed against him, cock pressing to your stomach and you nod eagerly.

“Of course.”

He grinds his hips against you softly for a moment, there was no set rhythm and was based entirely on instinct and desperation alone. His hands bite your hips as he kisses your neck and shoulder, earning quiet, content hums in response.

His hands dug between his and your stomach. “Just let me—“ he takes a hold of his cock, wet and leaking, before pressing it between your thighs.

“Ah, fuck, so soft.” He choked, pushing his goggles up his nose which had fallen slightly down.

His hips start to thrust, dragging his dick against your thighs and more noticeably against your folds. “Tech…” you whimper in satisfaction, heart pounding against your chest.

“Just a little more, darling.” The whines, pants and groans that leave his throat are pure filth to the ears, his movement so erratic that you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep you standing as your thighs swallow his throbbing tip entirely. His grip on your waist tightens at every increasing pace.. “J-Just… a little more.”

He fucks your thighs beautifully, tip prodding agaisnt your clit with every movement. You’re pent up. He is definitely pent up as you both dive into another kiss and you quietly beg him for more.

“You can fuck me, Tech… you can have all of me.” You bite against his lower lip, earning a low growl and a harsh thrust in return.

“I’ll fuck you properly, I promise.” His words held, like he said, a promise but you knew he just had to fuck your thighs just a little bit more, you knew he had to feel the softness of your skin he had been admiring for however many days now. “I’ll fuck you so good I just… I just need to cum all over your thighs. Just this once.”

Your sex burns in desire and although you knew you won’t get what you crave, you had to give in to Tech. You had to let him slap his cock on your soft skin, sliding in and out of your squeezed together legs until he was panting and swearing.

Lewd sounds fell from your lips, a sharp gasp as Tech repositioned your legs just a tad so his cock nuzzled against the right spot.

Your eyes fell closed, threatening to roll back into your skull. One hand frees your waist but makes it way into your hair, fingers entwined with the soft tassels and fingernails massaging your scalp. “Such a pretty girl.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your orgasm building with every pressure added to your pussy and judging by Tech’s staggered movements, the shift of his weight on his feet you knew he was close too. “Ah- fuck, I’m going to-.”

His words fall flat as you feel a sudden warmth grow between your legs. A lewd squelching noise followed by his soft whines. “That’s it darling,” his words are slurred as he paints your legs with his seed but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he holds you close and cradles you in his arms as he feels your body twitch and whispers for you to let it go.

Your hands fly to between your legs, your fingers coating in his cum as you begin to strum your clit with vigour until you were shouting his name aloud, letting it bounce off the walls of the ship as you tremble on his softening cock.

You stumble back, but Tech catches you swiftly, cooing soft words of assurance as stars briefly blur your vision. "I have you, do not fret. You will not fall."

You laugh lazily, a drunk-like smile gracing your lips. "I trust you, don't worry."

His warm smile reassures you, and he announces his intention to return with a flannel to help clean you up—a pleasant surprise. Once cleaned up, he pulls you into his lap as he sits down.

His lips trail down your spine, fingers delicately dragging across the canvas of your back. It's a blank slate, a myriad of possibilities for designs he could plan, but for now, he simply savors the feeling of your beautiful, warm skin. The quiet intimacy envelops the two of you and you look over your shoulder at him to gauge his reaction to what just happened.

"So, that was something," you laugh softly, cuddling into the warmth of his chest. "I never thought I'd see that side of you."

"And I never would have thought you would ever experience that side of me. It's different from how I usually conduct myself, but around you, I felt as though I could be open. Honest."

It's a rare glimpse of Tech being open with his feelings, and you're grateful that even after a moment of intimacy, he doesn't shut you out. There's something unspoken between you both, a desire to explore this newfound feeling for another.

For now, you say nothing, letting him hold you, allowing his mind to drift away from battle plans, ship repairs, and survival. It’s the least you could do.

Taglist Form - if you want to be added or removed (please note I’ll remove you if you’re not interacting with my work 🤍)

More Tech Works

Masterlist

My Ko-Fi

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon n @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @cw80831 @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894

#the bad batch #bad batch tech #bad batch tech x reader #tbb #tech bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #nahoney22 writes #I’m a bit late but shhh #tech Tuesday

[volopilled]

Happy SV day to those who celebrate!

#I’m a bit late to the punch but shhh it’s fine #pocket monsters #pokemon #pkmn #pokémon #pokémon scarlet and violet #pokémon scarlet #pokémon violet #pokémon sv #sprigatito #juliana pokémon #nintendo #game freak

[idrawgaystffs]

Fan art of Cube Head from Chris Hallbeck’s YouTube channel!

[Link to the video compilation ^^]

Ah, @chrishallbeck hope you don’t mind the tag (assuming this doesn’t get lost in your notifications), and thanks for sharing your characters!

#my art stff #chris hallbeck #cubehead #ironic I’m up late drawing this but shhh #wonder how I can show him this #eh I’ll think about that later #make him a bit dirtier #my art

[macfrog]

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 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

[gojoux]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

Gojo wouldn’t take it seriously, brushing off your words since he thinks you’re just teasing him like usual, “Oh~ how could you do this to me? I’m hurt! Now you should kiss me to make it up.” That is until you somehow manage to convince him that you’re serious. “Wait, you’re not joking?” He'd look at you with a mix of surprise and disbelief, “Hey, hey, what are you saying? You don’t mean that.” He chuckles rather nervously. Despite his antics, he truly loves you and he doesn’t want to let you go. You told him it was a joke after you were satisfied with his reaction. He'd put his index finger on your lips to make sure you’re not speaking anymore, “Shhh! Your prank hurt my feelings. Don’t do it again, okay?” He sulks. Now you really need to make it up by pampering him.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

Geto would be worried at first but then he’d be more confused rather than hurt. He knows your relationship is stable and he’s trying his best to do his part, so when you did this prank, it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out that you’re just messing around to get a reaction out of him. He’d raise an eyebrow and look at you before speaking calmly, “Oh? So you want to break up with me now? That’s a surprise. I thought you loved me?” You’ll notice that he smiles softly at you and seems to ignore your prank as he speaks to you in his usual soft voice, “You know, I don’t think I could live without my love. You know I won’t let you go easily. Why are you doing this, hm?” He doesn’t seem upset and just laughs at you a bit, pinching your cheek softly in return for making him worried a few seconds earlier.

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

Sukuna would be very pissed but he won’t yell at you, he’s not the type who would yell when he’s angry at you. He’d give you an annoyed look, grab you by the arms, and speak to you while gritting his teeth, “Am I not treating you well enough? Did I not love you enough?” He steps closer, pressing himself against yours, his lips are curled as he tries to keep himself from reacting too aggressively towards the situation. “You’re not going anywhere. You belong to me and I’ll make sure you’ll stay with me and me only.” He’d throw you on the bed and pinning you with his hands, giving you an intimidating look that it scare you, wondering if you went too far with this prank even though you know he’ll never hurt you. He’d reach a hand to grab your cheek to keep you focused on him, “You better not ever think about leaving me again, understand?”

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Nanami would be a bit surprised, trying to keep his head cool before asking you calmly, “Are you breaking up with me? Is that what you’re trying to do right now?” He’d continue to keep his composure as you're trying to break the news to him. On the inside, he’s definitely concerned about your decision right now, wondering if anything was wrong in your relationship to the point you want to end it with him. “Why?” He’d ask the only question that makes him want to know the answer right away. “I know that we’ve been having some problems lately but we can still fix it. Don’t give up on me just yet, love.” He’d take your hands in his as he caress the back of your hands with his thumb. Once you told him it was a prank, he’ll let out a big sigh of relief, “What's gotten into you right now? Please don’t joke about this, love. I’m serious about you.”

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

Choso would feel worried and quite scared when you try to break up with him. “What did you say?” He’d ask it in a nervous tone while fidgeting with his sleeves, making sure he’s hearing you right as he still trying to process the bad news. “Wait, no…” He shakes his head and gets up, hugging you tight while looking at you with a clearly heartbroken look, his lips quivering slightly. “You really want to break up with me? We just started dating not long ago. Why are you breaking up with me, did I do something wrong?” He rests his head on your shoulder, just holding you close to him. You are one of the very few he got attached to, he has every right to be upset right now. You quickly tell him it’s just a prank because you feel bad for making him feel like this. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get the joke and would continue speaking to you in a soft pleading tone, “Please don’t leave me. I will make it up to you.” Nope, you will be the one who needs to make it up to him.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji would look at you with a raised brow before giving you a slight smirk, “Oh, so we’re breaking up now? I know damn well we’re not. If this is the best joke you could come up with, then don’t even try next time.” He seems pretty okay with the whole breakup thing, you wouldn’t know if he’s joking or serious because of his usual calm and nonchalant demeanor. “Alright then, I don’t think I’m gonna ask for you to come back.” He shrugs as he looks at you with a smug and daring look if you’d actually leave him. When you keep up with your act and turn your back at him, walking a few steps away, he’d approach you and hold you by the waist, turning you around to look at him. “Hey, don’t do that. I’m just messing with you.” He chuckles a bit as he nuzzles his nose onto your neck. “I’m still here, ‘kay?”

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

Megumi wouldn’t really react too much when you break up with him, you can his eyes widen slightly, taken back by what you said out of nowhere. He would be calm and quiet as he replies to you, “Oh… It’s okay if you want to break up with me.” He nods despite the hesitation in his tone. “But can I at least know why? I’d understand.” He can’t help but ask, thinking what could be the possibilities. You’ll notice that his faint smile slowly disappears after hearing your answer. He’d turn his back to you and look at you for a while, “I wish you the best.” His voice is slightly shaking. You’d immediately walk in front of him, giving him a tight hug before revealing it’s just a joke. He’d hold your shoulder and look at you with a frown on his face, “This is not something to joke about. Don’t do this to me again.” He’s not angry at you, you scared him and he’s just afraid that you‘d leave him for real. He does hug you back, tighter.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

Itadori would be visibly surprised when you say that you want to break up with him while his smile slowly starts fading from his face. “Huh?” He lagged a bit as he looked at you not blinking at all. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, what?” He hurries to your side and makes you face him as he holds your hands. “Did you just say you want to break up with me? You don’t want to continue our relationship anymore? Is that what you’re saying?” He asks rather panicky from how fast he’s talking and stumbles a bit with his words. “But why though? We were doing just fine, right? Did I do something wrong? Just give me a chance and I’ll fix it, okay?” He’s having a mix of emotions as he stares into your eyes deeply, hoping to find an answer or at least a hint that you didn’t mean it. When you tell him it’s just a prank, he’ll lag again before letting out a loud exhale of relief, “You scared me! You really got me good there.” He chuckles shakily with the way his heart is still beating fast and pulls you into a hug.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

Yuta would be caught off guard when you break the news to him. His eyes would widen and he’d stay quiet for a while with his heart beating hard in his chest, not wanting to believe that this is real, before eventually speaking to you with a sad tone, “You want to break up with me? You want to end our relationship? Why? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.” He tries to convince you and himself to find another way for you not to break up with him until he overthinks what went wrong for you to end the relationship after what you two have been through. When you see him becoming more anxious, you comfort him, saying that this is just a joke and you’d never want to break up with him. “Oh! That’s a relief to hear.” His eyes lit up and smiles as he rub his nape. He’s not even mad, he’s just relieved that you’re still on good terms. “We’re still together, right? I’ll make you happy, I promise.”

Oop, I might enjoy the way these headcanons are getting longer over time 😳

#ೋღ—物語. #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader

[star-sim]

crush ☆ sunghoon park

☆ non-idol! bf! sunghoon x fem! reader ☆ summary: you love to tease your cute boyfriend, sunghoon. ☆ genre: fluff, cute n sleepy n whipped sunghoon ☆ warning(s)? nope! just fluff ☆ word count: 0.9k words

It was late at night when Sunghoon Park was shaken awake.

“Hoonie, wake up!” his girlfriend, you, whisper-yelled, shaking him emphatically. “I need you to wake up!”

Half-asleep with disheveled hair and grogginess, Sunghoon shot up. His pale hand shot for yours, clutching it close. 

“Di suhthih happeh (Did something happen)?” Sunghoon could barely pronounce his syllables. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced over at you. In the dark room, he could see your glassy eyes and perfect face- and goddamn was it perfect even in the absence of light.

“Yes!” you answered, squeezing his hand. “It’s really important!”

“Wha-” Sunghoon swiped another finger over his eyes, bringing a hand to grasp his silvery hair. “What happened?”

You slithered an arm around his waist, throwing a leg over his hips and pushing him back down onto the pillows so that you were snuggled right up against him. Sunghoon was too tired to question it, letting out a yawn. You stayed in a cuddled-up position for a few moments, before you giggled.

“I have a crush on someone.”

“What?!”

Sunghoon was wide awake now. He whipped his head over to yours against the pillows. You two lied like that, staring into each other’s eyes. You giggled again.

“Y-You have a crush on someone?” Sunghoon was appalled. You were his. How could you like someone else when he was right there?

Your lips wore a wide smile. “Shhh, you can’t tell anyone.”

“What are you talking about?!” Sunghoon vehemently asked, bringing his hands up to clutch your face. His fingers pressed onto your smiling cheeks, frowning at the way you looked so happy. 

You chuckled, leaning in to kiss Sunghoon's jaw.

“I’ll kill him,” Sunghoon muttered.

“You’ll what?” 

Sunghoon frown deepened. 

He pulled away, turning his back to you.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” the man grumbled.

You shared a moment of silence.

Sunghoon Park couldn’t believe that his girlfriend had a crush on someone! And he didn’t know about it! At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel the dejection that came from the other side of the bed.

He sighed.

“Who is it?”

You didn’t respond.

Sunghoon sighed louder this time, turning back to you.

“Who’s your crush?”

A mischievous smile grew on your face, before you clung onto him again.

“It’s a guy,” you began, fingers coming up to play with Sunghoon's soft, white hair. “He has white hair.”

“Why would anyone have white hair?” Sunghoon murmured to himself, but not quiet enough to go unheard by you.

“And he’s really dumb,” you continued, watching the way Sunghoon seemed to perk up at that description. “But he’s handsome.” He deflated.

Sunghoon scowled.

You glanced over to him. With two fingers, you walked up his chest slowly, stopping at his chin.

“What’s his name?”

“Hmmm,” you pretended to think.

Your boyfriend filled his cheeks with air, frowning with impatience. "Can I just have a hint? Like a letter?" The desperation in his voice only made you want to tease him more.

You bit back a laugh, “I can’t tell you. You’ll know who immediately.”

Sunghoon scoffed, before asking, “Do I know him?”

“Yeeeaahh,” you drew out your syllable. “You know him reealllyy well.”

“As if I’d know a loser like him.”

You tapped Sunghoon's chin with the tips of your fingers, before softly caressing his cheeks. He leaned into your touch, inhaling your sweet scent.

“He has a mole on his eyelid,” you brushed your fingers over his eyes, connecting it up to his eyebrow, “And cute eyebrows.”

“He must be ugly.”

You tapped his brow-bone gently. “Not quite. I sleep with him sometimes.”

Sunghoon jolted back up at those words. He balled his hands into fists. 

“Who is it?” he grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. You watched the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Who do you like?”

You stifled a laugh. You took your time answering.

“But what if you tell someone?” you innocently cocked your head. “How can I trust you?”

Sunghoon squeezed your shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone!”

He looked at you with wide and dark eyes. He was completely serious.

“Pinky promise?” you extended your finger. Sunghoon linked his pinky with yours immediately, even going as far as to ‘lock’ the promise in. You motioned for him to come closer to you, cupping your hands around his ears. 

Sunghoon's heart pounded in his chest. How dare some guy come out of nowhere and take his girlfriend?

“His name is Sunghoon Park,” you whispered.

Sunghoon's heart dropped to his stomach. “He sounds like a bastard.”

You blinked at him and shook your head, before flopping back into bed, giggling.

“Wh– Why are you laughing?!” Sunghoon gently hit your leg that was under the blanket. Your fit of giggles and laughter didn’t die down until a few minutes later. His cheeks burned with both embarrassment and irritation. When you finally stopped laughing, Sunghoon looked at you seriously. “Are you going to tell me more about this ‘Sunghoon Park’ guy?”

“No.”

“Wha–”

“Good night!”

After a few pouty kisses, grumbles to himself, and twenty minutes, Sunghoon finally shot up from bed once again.

His cheeks were bright pink. His heart was racing, and he felt jittery.

“W-Wait!” he nearly yelled. “You have a crush on… me?”

“Mhm.”

“As in…. You like-like me?” You hummed. Sunghoon gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth. “Oh gosh! Oh my! Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already your girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Dumbass.”

“Hey!”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #star-sim

[r3starttt]

Your eyes were so puffy already it was painful to keep them open. This was probably the third night this week you were unable to sleep due all the coughing and fever and just the general annoyance that comes physically and mentally due the flu.

And if being sick wasn’t enough, being sleep deprived had been causing you some nightmares whenever you tried to sleep. You’d only got some rest in those small moments before actually falling asleep, when you’re not too conscious yet not sleeping either, and even though those five minutes felt so good it wasn’t enough.

You were just so exhausted and frustrated, not being able to do anything but stay in bed all day. Too weak to even shower, you felt so disgusted about yourself and so ashamed for letting Abby see you like this. She insisted you looked hot still, her pretty girl, but you didn’t feel like that at all.

And you loved her and loved that she loved you so much too, but couldn’t help but feel like shit for being such a burden, for not being able to help her as you usually did. Whether you stood at home or you went out with her you always did something to keep things calm for both, to make your life’s easier. And now you couldn’t and besides that you looked horrible and felt horrible and you needed her like never but didn’t feel like asking her for anything, she was working so har lately, to attend you and help you recover. You couldn’t ask for more.

Until today. Your throat just felt so sore, your eyes felt like you’ve been crying since forever due the little sleep you’ve got and the sickness itself. And your nose and lips were burning from how much you’ve been blowing your nose lately. You needed her, to find some comfort, to see if maybe she’d got you to sleep as she usually did, just anything she could provide you, it would help and you were desperate for some of it.

“Abs… babe” your small pats on her shoulder woke her up, trying her best to open her eyes and see whatever was wrong “what happened?” the sleepiness of her voice made you smile almost immediately, waking a small regret on you for not waking her up the other days you struggled to sleep. You knew she wouldn’t mind it, but it didn’t feel right.

“can’t sleep… and everything hurts” just as you spoke you could feel the knot of tears forming on your throat. It was all the exhaustion and frustration finally coming out. And Abby knew, she noticed just by hearing your voice that you needed her, and she also knew that you only needed her when you were containing yourself for too long. So she didn’t hesitate on waking up completely, rubbing her eyes and gently sitting in the bed, opening her arms so you could cuddle with her.

“Shhh shhh it’s okay… you’re alright now” her voice was a little bit husky, yet so comforting and smooth. you crawled to her arms, making yourself some space in between all the blankets “how long have you felt like this huh? you know I don’t mind taking care of you” you could feel her arms slowly embracing you, pulling you closer to her and leaving just the right amount of space in between your bodies so you could properly breath “I’m sorry” your tears started to stain Abby’s shirt, making her heart ache “don’t apologize baby… it’s alright yeah? just let it all out”

The tears finally coming out of your body, her pretty voice guiding you trough your sleep and the warmth of her body made you have a proper sleep finally. It took her long enough to get it but it worked, after some minutes you were already pressed on her, head buried deep on her chest and arms holding on her shirt gently. You couldn’t look more prettier.

And even though your sleepy expression could still scream how overwhelmed you’ve been feeling and your breathing was still unsteady, you were finally able to rest. Not as you wished but just enough to help you get better. And it was all because of her.

an: I’m sick, AGAIN(? Third time this year and it’s only been one month. Wtf this is so homophobic 👎

Anyways, I needed the comfort. Also check this or get the fuck out of here :) thanks that’s all bye

#abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #abby fanfiction #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby fluff #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby x y/n #abby x masc!reader #abby x black reader #ren masterlist ᵎᵎ ִ ۫ ּ ⊹

[jakexneytiri]

Same anon asking for more dad!neteyam x reader + babies - can we have them learning about their mom being pregnant again and learning about having a new sibling. Or maybe hunting lessons with grandma and grandpa. Whichever one inspires you!

how about both! well, sorta. i’m gonna post what i have written for this so far, and if you are all interested in the fishing scene, i’ll post that too :) thank you for all of your support!! 🥰

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

morning sickness wasn’t something you were fond of. it had you up in the early hours of the morning, doubled over with a carved wooden bowl in your hands. the remnants of some bladder polyps you had neteyam fetch in the middle of the night had made their way up your throat and into the bowl. “i’m never eating another one of those again.” you thought to yourself, trying to focus on anything besides the slimy, green goop in the bowl in front of you.

neteyam was sound asleep for a couple hours, but the sound of your heaving woke him up instantly.

“my love?” he questions, sitting up beside you as his large hand runs down the length of your spine. “why did you not wake me sooner?” as he rises to his feet, he grabs the bowl from you, heading outside your marui to discard its current contents.

“oh, i’m sorry, i was a little busy ridding my body of my late night snack. i don’t think our little one likes bladder polyps very much.” you reply in a snarky tone, laying back down to curl up on your sleeping mat in a fetal position.

neteyam sighs, as he grabs a bowl of fresh water for you to sip on. he carefully hands it to you, settling next to you.

“no more bladder polyps, then.” he nods, gently rubbing your back again. a few moments of silence pass, before his ears perk up at the sounds of your sniffling. he sits up immediately, tugging at your shoulder to examine your face.

“why are you crying?” confusion is plastered all over neteyam’s face, searching for the reason you’re so upset.

“i don’t want the children to see me like this. i have no appetite, and they wanted me to take them hunting today, and i-” you cry out, throwing your arms around your mate as you sob into his bare chest.

“shhh, shhhhh. it is all right, my love. do not worry. i will page for my mother and father to take them hunting. they’ll love to spend time with them today. do you want me to call for them now?” neteyam glances outside through the open flap of your marui, knowing it’s a bit early, even for village life to start.

you nod into his chest, sniffling hard as you cling to him. “yes….please. before the children wake.”

“shhh.” his large hand brushes over your hair, smoothing it gently. “i’ll send for them now.”

neteyam raises his other hand to his throat comm, and with a click of a button, you can hear your father in law’s voice through your mate’s earpiece.

“son, clearly someone must be sick, injured, or dying for you to be paging me this early in the goddamn morning. which is it?” jake snaps, though his voice has a tinge of grogginess to it. he was never a morning person as a human, and it certainly didn’t change when he became na’vi.

you hated to interrupt your in laws, especially when he was your olo’eyktan, with his own duties to tend to. your ears pin back against your skull as you bow your head, ashamed.

“dad, it’s y/n. she’s not feeling well. this….pregnancy is taking a toll on her.”

“ah, shit.” jake grumbles on the other line, and you can envision him rubbing his hand over his face, as he does when he’s stressed. “she okay now? want me to send your mother over to help?” jake’s voice has a tinge of worry to it as you hear your mother in law’s voice speaking to jake, mumbling something you can’t make out.

“actually, i was hoping you and mom would be able to watch the children for a bit. they wanted y/n to take them hunting today, but i think that’s out of the question for her. at least until she’s better.” neteyam continues to run his hand along your hair, trying his best to calm you as he speaks with his father.

“give us fifteen and we’ll be over soon.” the line clicks, and you’re left with the guilty conscience of your in-laws covering for you. again.

“they will be here soon. do you want to try drinking more water?” neteyam asks gently, still cradling you in his arms.

you sigh, sitting up to shake your head. “it’s not right, nete. i cannot ask this of them. they have their own duties to tend to, it’s wrong of me to-”

neteyam cuts you off right then and there. “-yawne, you do know they are their own person, capable of making their own decisions. my mother and father adore you, and they are more than happy to help. our family is more important to them than their daily village tasks. you know they’ll take any excuse to see the children. they love them. now please, don’t fret. they’ll be over soo-”

neteyam’s voice is drowned out by a shriek from your youngest daughter.

“GWANDPA!!!” nima squeals, running over to the front of your marui where jake and neytiri now stand.

“shhhh, shhhh babygirl! you’re gonna wake the whole village.” jake chuckles lightly, taking a knee to open his arms wide for her.

nima runs straight into them, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and kissing the tip of his nose. “why hewe, gwandpa?” she asks, confused as to why her grandparents were here so early in the morning.

“no way! grandpa and gramma are here!!” txonuk says happily, nudging se’ayl and tsantu awake.

“we’re takin’ you guys on a little huntin’ trip today.” jake explains, as neytiri kneels down to hug se’ayl, txonuk, and tsantu.

“but, i thought momma was taking us?” txonuk says, confused as he glances over to the drape that closes off the space where you and neteyam sleep during the night.

“your sa’nu [mommy] needs to rest. she is not feeling well.” neytiri gently explains to them, as neteyam slips through the drape.

“thank you for coming.” he says quietly, walking over to give his mother a hug, and his father a handshake.

“dad? is momma okay?” txonuk asks, tugging on neteyam’s loincloth.

“mama will be fine, don’t you worry about her, okay? come, let’s get your bows.” neteyam suggests, as jake and neytiri walk with him to where the bows are stored.

“which one’s yours, nima baby? is it……this one?” jake asks, holding up your bow.

nima bursts in a fit of giggles, thinking grandpa’s the funniest na’vi she’s ever met. “noooooooooo, gwandpa! that’s mama’s! you siwwy.”

jake chuckles and sets your bow back in its place. “is ittt…..this one?” jake holds up txonuk’s bow now.

“nooooooo! that ‘nuk’s bow!” nima giggles a bit more, shaking her head no multiple times.

“hey! that’s my bow, grandpa!” txonuk says, pointing to nima’s mini bow hanging up toward the end of the wall. “this one’s nimas!”

jake chuckles again as he hands txonuk his bow, rustling his curls before grabbing nima’s bow. “this one’s yours?”

“yea, yea!” nima says happily, taking the bow and holding it to her chest tightly, hugging the object.

“come, children. we must head out now, this is when payoang [fish] are most active.” neytiri urges, gently guiding them to the front of the marui.

“here nima, go to daddy for a sec. i’m gonna check on your mama, okay?” jake says, handing her off to neteyam.

“daddyyy!” nima says happily, playing with the beads on his necklace.

neteyam chuckles at this, kissing the top of her forehead gently. “good morning, nima baby.”

inside, jake makes his way over to your closed off bedroom sheet, stopping just outside of it. “babygirl? you decent in there?”

your eyes flutter open, glancing at the shadow cast on your bedroom sheet. “dad?….come in.” you croak softly, clearing your throat.

jake pulls the sheet back, slipping inside as he kneels beside you. he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb gently over the top of your hand. his eyebrows push together in concern as he sees the current state you’re in. “jesus, kid. you look terrible.”

you let out a soft laugh, looking down at his hands as you shake your head. “gee, thanks, dad.”

“i’m not sayin’ it to be funny, sweetheart. we need to get you some help. d’you want me to call for mo’at?” he asks, concern laced in his voice as his thumb still strokes the top of your hand gently.

your eyes water at this, unable to control your hormones. tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at your father in law, defeated. “it’s been so hard. i don’t know why this pregnancy has been so difficult, but it is. i don’t want to worry neteyam, but….i’m worried.”

“shhh, shhhh. there’s no need for that. worryin’ doesn’t do anyone any good.” jake starts to say, as neytiri pulls back the sheet now.

“oh, my sweet child…” she says gently, kneeling on the other side of your sleeping mat. “how are you feeling?”

you can only answer with a sob, turning into your pillow as you cry. “it hasn’t been easy.” you cry out, as neytiri holds your other hand.

jake and neytiri both exchange a worried glance, before looking back down at you.

“i will call for mother. she will bring the right ‘umtsa [medicine] for you.” neytiri reassures you, wiping your tears away with her other hand.

“thank you…both of you, truly…..i feel terrible for waking you up so early-” jake shakes his head and cuts your sentence short.

“don’t you dare apologize, babygirl. you’re sick. we need you to get better, and that’s our top priority, okay? nothing else is more important.”

neytiri nods in agreement, squeezing your hand gently. “ma ‘ite [my daughter], please, rest. we will take care of the children, do not worry.”

jake leans in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, as neytiri follows suit. neytiri even fluffs your pillow for you, squeezing your hand one last time before they both rise to their feet, giving you one last look.

“promise me you’ll rest up, kid? you need it.” jake asks, squeezing neytiri’s hand gently as they look over your sleeping mat.

your lower lip trembles as you nod. “i promise, dad.”

jake and neytiri head out of your marui, as jake scoops nima up in his arms. “ready to go hunt, babygirl?”

“wes, wes!!” nima says excitedly, plucking the string of her bow.

neytiri squeezes neteyam’s arm gently, halting him from heading back inside. “neteyam. i called for my mother, she will bring ‘umtsa. make sure y/n takes it. it will help.”

“thank you, mother.” neteyam nods, before giving his children one last look. “have fun with grandma and grandpa, my little ones.”

all four of his children wave back to him, as neteyam slips through the marui opening, lacing it shut before making his way back to you. his strong arms wrap around you, gently rubbing your arm as he holds you.

sleep comes to you eventually, after what seems like hours of dozing off. you’re grateful that jake and neytiri are able to take your children hunting, plus it gives them a chance to spend time with their grandchildren. you can only hope that they’re behaving for them.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

#neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x na’vi!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #dad!neteyam #dad neteyam #dad! neteyam #grandpa!jake #grandpa jake sully #grandpa! jake sully #grandma!neytiri #grandma! neytiri sully #tsantu sully #se’ayl sully #txonuk sully #nima sully

[evansbby]

➳❥ 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Lloyd Hansen x innocent!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dubcon, noncon, dark, minors dni, daddy kink, age gap - reader is early 20s, Lloyd is late 30s, coercion, dark Lloyd taking advantage of super innocent reader, like seriously reader is very innocent, corruption kink, babying, extreme dumbification, dd/lg undertones, mention of gun, use of gun in sexual context, choking, spitting, kidnapping, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, blood mention, killing mention, manipulation, gaslighting

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Lloyd promises to let you go, but he demands a depraved repayment. (In other words: Lloyd pops your cherry).

𝐀/𝐍: This is really fucking depraved. Please, please be warned. 

“My dad’s gonna come for me!” You burst out tearfully, tiny fists clenching at your sides and nails digging into your palms, “H-He loves me! And… And I’m not scared of you!”

Lloyd yawns, “Honey, this whole heroic act was cute two days ago. But now you’re just boring me.”

“N-Not acting!” You lie, jutting your chin up and hoping he can’t see how your hands shake and lower lip wobbles. Your dad had always taught you to be brave in the face of evil. And the man sat in front of you, with his neatly trimmed moustache and perfectly styled hair; his elegant white pants and tight black turtleneck that showed off every ridge of muscle on his body…

This man was definitely the face of evil.

“As I said, boring.” Lloyd practically sing-songs, crossing one leg over the other, his blue eyes gazing at you from where you sit on the bed with the pink satin sheets. “Why don’t you try a different schtick, sunshine? Maybe be a bit bratty? Gimme a reason to rough you up a bit before I send the videos to your father?”

Brows knotting together in confusion, a pout forms on your lips, “What videos?”

Lloyd can’t help his gleeful smile, “You’ll see.”

He gets up from the gilded armchair that he usually sits on when he comes to ‘visit’ you, making his way over to the four-poster princess bed where you sit cross-legged. The whole room that he’s put you in is soft, pink hues with gold accents – admittedly the prettiest room you’ve ever lived in. You’re thankful Lloyd didn’t throw you into a dark, scary basement when he kidnapped you – but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to leave.

Dad’s gonna come for me, you assure yourself.

But right now, it’s just Lloyd (and the guards stationed outside your room). Your captor casually walks towards you, twirling his gun in his hand in a way that makes you cringe in fear. He smirks when you exhale sharply, your eyes widening when the brunet takes a seat next to you on the pretty satin sheets.

“Why, honey. You’re hurting my feelings – I thought you said you weren’t scared of me.”

You swallow harshly, “N-Not scared!”

“Then why are you shuffling away from me like a kicked puppy?” Lloyd licks his lips, suddenly grabbing your calf and dragging you over to him. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger too – with those muscles that bulge out of the tight shirts he wears. You squeal in pure fear as places you neatly on his lap, arms encircling around you.

“Shhh, baby. Just shut that pretty mouth up for me, okay? I need to tell you something.”

Immediately, you clamp your mouth shut, sitting rigid against him while he strokes your hair. You’d never tell him this – but he’s the scariest man you’ve ever met. In the two days that you’ve known him – from when he stole into your bedroom in the dead of the night and took you up until now – you’ve seen many different sides of him. He can go from soft to insane in two seconds flat, and you’ve even seen him kill people.

“M-My dad said we shouldn’t play with guns.” You can’t help but point out when you see Lloyd continuously twirling his loaded gun with his fingers. And he’s doing it so dangerously close to you, as if he doesn’t care at all if he accidentally hits the trigger.

Lloyd snorts, “That’s because your dad’s too busy playing with his tiny dick, sunshine.”

You gasp at his crassness, and the older man can’t help but laugh at the expression on your face.

“God, you’re a little airhead, aren’t you? Makes me almost sad about what I’m gonna say next.”

Ears perking up at his words, you shuffle around on his lap until you’re facing him, blinking up at him shyly and waiting for him to speak.

“I’ve decided I’m going to let you go.”

Elation fills your trusting heart, and you bounce up and down in his lap in excitement, not noticing the way he suppresses a growl and steadies you with his large hands on your hips. “Really? Oh, Mr. Hansen, thank you!”

“Yes, sunshine. Thank me indeed. Turns out your father’s useless, and by extension, that makes you useless. And do you know what I do with useless people, baby?”

Eyes wide as saucers, you shake your head.

“I kill them.”

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the loaded gun in his hand, the one he so callously plays with all the time. Blood running cold, you gulp up at him, “B-B-But…”

“Shhh, baby.” He presses his finger against your lips. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m feeling nice today, honey. So instead of killing you, I’m going to let you go. Isn’t that nice of me?”

He’s giving you whiplash with his words, but you nod quickly, “Y-Yeah! My mom says to always see the good in people, so I think you’re being really nice, Mr. Hansen. Thank you! When do I get to leave?”

Lloyd almost moans out loud at your innocence, digging his boner up into your ass while you blink up at him, so deliciously unaware of his intentions.

“Now sunshine, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” Lloyd clicks his tongue, finger tracing shapes on your bare thigh – you’re still in your little pink nightie that you were wearing when he kidnapped you. “I’m doing you a huge favour here. In fact, I’ve done a lot of favours for you in the past two days, wouldn’t you say so?”

“Huh?”

“Aw, you’re a dumb little baby, aren’t you?” He chucks you under the chin, loving how goddamn innocent you look, how your perfect little lips form the shape of an ‘o’, how you look like you’re hanging on to his every word, “I kept you in this pretty room instead of the scary basement, I gave you food and a soft princess bed to sleep in, didn’t I?” He pinches the flesh of your thigh when you don’t reply, “Didn’t I?”

“Ow– Yes! Yes, you did!” You cry out.

“So then it’s only fair that you repay me before I let you go.” Lloyd is vary casual with his words, making it sound like this repayment is so painfully obvious. He’s playing with the strap of your nightie now, pushing the silky strap down your bare shoulder and making you shiver.

“I… I guess so.” You’re confused, but your dad has told you in the past that if someone does something nice for you, then it’s always a good idea to repay them for their kindness. And although you’ve seen Lloyd scream at the guards and his other men (as well as maybe shoot a few people), he’s never really been mean to you. You sit up straight, nodding your head as you feel a bit more confident. In fact, you’re sure your dad would be proud of you for how you’re negotiating like an adult right now, “Okay, Mr. Hansen. What kind of repayment would you like?”

The corner of Lloyd’s mouth curls up, his large hands rubbing up and down your arms in a way that has you feeling kind of light-headed and warm, “Call me daddy, sunshine.”

“What? But you’re not my dad!” You giggle softly, not understanding why you’ve suddenly got this throbbing feeling between your legs. And it only seems to increase when his hand slips down, now casually playing with the lacey hem of your nightie.

“But I took care of you, kept a roof over your head these past two days, and also kept you fed, didn’t I? That means I’m your daddy.” Lloyd says it slowly, as if he’s speaking to a toddler.

You mull over his words, “I guess that makes sense…”

The brunet runs a hand over his perfectly styled hair, trying not to get too excited over the fact that he really has lucked the fuck out, a sweet-looking broad with a head as empty as yours sitting pretty in his lap, believing every single word that comes out of his mouth. It’s almost too good to be true.

“It makes perfect sense, cupcake. You’re just a dumb baby, so maybe things aren’t so clear in your head. But a man who takes care of his girl is known as daddy. So, you better call me that from now on.” He trails the muzzle of his gun against your bare skin with an air of indifference that makes you whimper softly.

“O-Okay, daddy.”

Lloyd almost moans out loud when he hears you say it, his pants now uncomfortably tight and he wonders just how much of an airhead you are to not notice his hard fucking dick right underneath your ass.

“Now honey, I want you to listen carefully to what I say next. Because this is how you’re gonna repay me before I let you go.”

He takes your hand; your tiny, dainty little hand, and squarely presses it down on his hard crotch. And it’s almost music to his ears when you gasp, snatching your hand back in record time.

“I can’t touch you there! That’s your… thing!”

“Oh princess, you’re allowed to touch your daddy’s cock. It’s only natural.” There’s something about the lull in Lloyd’s tone, this soft, velveteen quality of his voice, that makes you want to listen to him. Plus, your curiosity gets the best of you, because you’ve never touched a man’s thing before… Slowly, you replace your hand on his crotch, gasping when he thrusts up into your palm.

“Daddy, why is it so hard?”

Lloyd’s played with dumb little girls like you before – so none of this is new to him. But it’s also safe to say that none of those other girls were quite as innocent and lovely as you, with your wide eyes and open mouth, gaping down at his dick as if it’s about to come alive and eat you.

“Honey, this is where your repayment comes in.” He grabs your hand once more, making you stroke his clothed dick slowly, “Daddy’s cock is sick, that’s why it’s so hard. And only you can help me fix it and make it soft again.”

“Only me?” You echo prettily, looking scared and honoured at the same time.

“Yes, sunshine. Despite the fact that you’re dumber than a brick, it has to be you.” With one hand holding yours and making you stroke him, he uses his other hand to brush your hair out of your face, being all deliberately tender till you’re looking up at him with shining eyes, “My dick’s so hard that it’s causing me pain. And you don’t want your daddy to be in pain, do you? Specially when I kept you so safe and comfortable during your stay with me?”

Again, you mull over his words. Lloyd could have thrown you in the basement or one of his torture chambers where he took the other bad guys (you’d heard the guards talking about it once). But no, he’d kept you in this pretty pink bedroom with the soft satin bed and fuzzy carpet. Lloyd was nice, so it wasn’t fair that he was in pain.

You nod slowly, “Okay, daddy. I’ll help you with your pain.” And then you pout, “But I don’t know how!”

He repositions you in his lap so that you’re straddling him, your knees on either side of him and the hem of your nightie running high, your pantie-covered crotch flush against his, making heat rise to your cheeks. You’ve never been in such an intimate position with a man before. But Lloyd is your daddy, and he’s a nice man and he’s going to let you go, so you will yourself not to be scared.

He cocks his gun, pointing the muzzle of it right between your breasts where the neckline of your nightie dips. You inhale sharply as he leisurely trails it down, leaving goosebumps in your wake as you feel the weapon slide down your body. All the way down to between your legs – the source of all the throbbing – and he presses his gun against your private place, making you jolt with a surprising thrill that courses through your veins.

“Do you know what this is called, sunshine?” He asks softly.

You gulp – of course you know! You’re a big girl, after all. “Y-Yeah, daddy. That’s my vagina. But I’m not allowed to have anyone touch me there. My dad said he’d kill whoever even tried.”

“Cupcake, your dad’s a fuckin’ tool.” Lloyd flexes his arm suddenly, pressing his gun against your core and you convulse from the contact. “Now, little girls like you can’t use the word vagina. That’s an adult word. Babies like you need to say princess parts, got it?”

Princess parts. That sounded pretty, and you’ve been living in this pink princess room with a princess bed and princess sheets, so it only makes sense; so you nod in agreement.

“Princess parts.” You say softly, liking how it rolls off your tongue, “I like that, daddy.”

“Of course, you do, sweet sunshine.” Lloyd smirks, gun still cocked between your legs while his other hand slips behind you, unzipping your nightie slowly. “Now, do your little princess parts ever get creamy, baby?”

Creamy? You widen your eyes in alarm – how could he possibly know?! Gulping, your hand freezes on top of his clothed dick and you bite your lip, ducking your head down in shame.

“I… I do get wet down there sometimes.” You confess, because Lloyd said he’s your daddy and surely, he won’t tell anyone. “But it’s not pee, I swear it’s not, daddy!”

Lloyd licks his lips like he’s the big bad wolf; and honestly, he might as well be with how he plans to take advantage of your innocence. Having unzipped your nightie all the way down, he lifts your straps and slips them down your arms. You’re too mortified over how he knows about your princess parts getting wet that you don’t even notice him doing it.

“Tell me how you got wet.” He orders you simply, a look of almost unrestrained lust on his face, “And you better tell me the truth, or else I’ll change my mind about letting you go.”

You squirm, “Well… Please don’t tell anyone, but once I was watching this movie on TV, and it had a…uh… a scene in it. A dirty scene.” Scrunching your eyes shut, you can’t help but replay the scene in your mind, the actor so handsome and ripped – although not even close to as handsome and ripped as Lloyd is. “And I know I should’ve turned it off, but I was curious.”

Lloyd’s thumb brushes against your bare nipple, dick so unimaginably hard underneath you at your innocent story, and also because he’s now got you topless on top of him and you haven’t even noticed. God, you’re so fucking dumb and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Th-Then I had this strong urge to go pee, but when I got up, there was a wet spot on the couch. And my p-panties were all wet too!” You lament, and you can’t help but bury your face in Lloyd’s strong and sturdy shoulder, embarrassed because a man as sophisticated as him shouldn’t have had to hear such a stupid, shameful story.

“Oh, honey,” Lloyd coos, humping up against you because he knows you’re too distraught to notice. “You’re such a dumb little baby, not even recognising your own princess cream.”

You hiccup, blinking up at him with huge doe eyes, “P-Princess cream?”

“Yes, sunshine. Princess cream. Babies like you get all wet and drippy down there with princess cream, and you’re meant to gift this cream to your daddies to make them feel better. Everyone knows that.”

You nod, finally understanding him, “Is that how your… thing… is gonna feel better? With my cream?”

Lloyd taps your cheek condescendingly, “Guess your head’s not completely empty after all.”

And that’s how you find yourself lying down on your princess bed, the satin sheets so soft underneath you as a man almost double your age hovers over you, taking your nightie off and leaving you clad in only your little pink panties.

“You know, sunshine, after you’re done helping daddy here, we can go into my room. I’ve got a huge TV, and we can watch all the dirty movies your little heart desires.” Lloyd is feeling nice after your little confession. Not so nice as to not take advantage of you, but nice enough.

“Okay, daddy, that sounds– Hey! Aren’t you gonna take me home after this?”

Lloyd chuckles, choosing to ignore you as he surveys your almost nude body, how it quivers so prettily. Rolling your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he then brings your hand over to his pants once more, “Unzip me, baby. Daddy’s dick’s hurting a lot.”

You take a deep breath, not knowing where this is going but knowing that you want to help your daddy because he’s going to let you go after this and you’re so super thankful for that. Fingers shakily taking hold of his zipper, you undo his fly with baited breath and a thumping heart.

Lloyd’s eyes are so dark, it looks like he’s about to eat you up. “Take it out, baby. Take daddy’s dick out.”

Biting your lip in concentration, you think about when you’re in pain. Like the time you tripped and fell down the stairs when you were younger. You’d twisted your ankle and it had hurt a lot. It’s sad to think that Lloyd is hurting like that now, and you’d help just about anyone to stop them from hurting.

Your eyes widen when you pull his cock out, because your fingers don’t even fully wrap around it. He’s thick like a soda can, and long too. And so, so hard. Angry and red looking, with veins running down the side. You wonder if all men are as big as he is, or if he’s special.

“So… So big, daddy.”

Lloyd can’t help but stroke your cheek, “Take your panties off, sweetie. Can you do that for me?”

He sounds so soft and nice, voice so beguiling that you don’t think twice in obeying. But maybe it’s because you’re so distracted by the darkness in his eyes, by his handsome face so close to you, by his dick that scares you every time you sneak a glance at it… But you’re slow in tugging your panties down, and Lloyd taps you harshly on the cheek.

“Faster, you dumb fucking baby. Unless you want me to hurt you.” He gestures towards his gun which rests on the satin bedsheet next to you. You don’t understand why he’s kept it so close – it’s so scary and you hate it, but the threat works. Tugging your panties off, you go to hand them to him but he shakes his head.

“No, baby. Wrap your pretty panties around your hand and then hold my dick.”

His instructions are clear, but you still look up at him dumbly, “H-Huh?”

Lloyd rolls his eyes, patience running thin. All he really wants to do is shove his dick up your virgin pussy but he knows half the fun is building up to it. “It’ll help with the pain, sweetie. You wouldn’t understand because you’re too dumb. But don’t fucking question your daddy again.”

The satin of your panties and your soft, hesitant fingers feel like heaven around Lloyd’s dick. His own calloused hand grabs onto yours, moving your palm up and down on his big dick until you get the hang of it and don’t need his help anymore. And fuck, he doesn’t know where to look now because your tiny hand on his fat dick makes him want to bust a nut, but the look of determination on your face gets him going too.

“Is your pain getting better, daddy?”

He grunts, “Slightly, baby. But the real pain relief is inside your princess parts.” Licking his lips, he gives his next order: “Spread your legs, dumb baby. Wider. Wider, I said.”

You yelp when he slaps your inner thigh hard, pussy glistening and on display for him as you spread your legs as wide as they’ll go. And now it’s like Lloyd can’t restrain himself – how can he when there’s a five-course fucking meal about two inches away from him? All quivering and wet and untouched?

Quickly, he shoves your hand and panties off his dick, replacing it with his own as he brings his dick up to your wet folds. And you suck in a breath when his tip glides against your slit, up and down, making shivers run up and down your lower body, and you jolt upwards to create more friction.

“Ah– daddy, that feels funny!”

Lloyd’s no longer in the mood to humour you, it’s like he’s reached his quota of niceness for the day and now he just wants to get his fucking dick wet with virgin pussy. The thought makes him salivate – he hasn’t had a virgin since his days at Harvard, and never one as sweet and naïve as you.

“Shut up,” He breathes, leaning down till his chest is flush against your breasts, one hand easily trapping both your wrists above your head. He aims the tip of his dick against your clit, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves and loving how you gasp. God, virgins were just too easily excitable.

“Oh, daddy! D-Do that again, maybe?”

That makes Lloyd bark out a laugh. “Naughty baby, you’re meant to be helping daddy out, not giving me demands.”

You hang your head in shame, “S-Sorry, daddy. I just can’t h-help it sometimes! My princess parts feel so tingly. J-Just wanna touch more– ah!” Something feral takes over you, and you reach down to grab his dick, positioning it in front of your leaking hole as if you really can’t help yourself.

Lloyd almost busts a nut right then and there, but he has enough willpower to smack your hand away, laughing when you pout and begin to cry.

“Don’t know what’s happening to me, daddy! Wanna feel you more! Feels like I’ll die if I don’t!”

He loves how prettily you cry, how you want to say you’re turned on but you can’t find the words to explain how you’re feeling. The tears welling in your eyes make him even harder and your soft cries are music to his ears.

“You ready to end daddy’s pain now, sunshine?” He asks you, leaning over you and a strand of his perfectly styled hair breaks free, brushing against your forehead. And oh my gosh, if he isn’t the most handsome man you’ve seen in the whole world! Like the heroes in the movies, or in those romance novels your mother is always reading.

“I’m ready, daddy!” You confirm, unknowingly bucking your hips upwards to meet his hard dick. But when he pushes his dick inside your hole, you gasp and push at his chest almost immediately. “D-Daddy, this is… this is sex. We’re gonna have sex?”

Lloyd really can’t believe how dumb you truly are, he gazes at you incredulously, and you bite your lip again.

“You said you would help me, sunshine. You can’t go back on your word now.”

“I’m not! I’m not!” You swear, “It’s just… I’m not supposed to have sex until I’m married. But I really want to, daddy. I wanna help you and I wanna have sex with you – I just don’t want my parents to be mad!”

Lloyd’s bored now. In fact, he’d grown bored a good five minutes ago. Maybe he could tell the guards outside to get him some ductape so he can shut your fucking mouth once and for all while he has his way with you. Or he could drug you. But then he wouldn’t be able to hear your pretty gasps and cries when he finally pops your cherry.

Decisions, decisions.

“Look, honey. I’m gonna fuck you now – whether you like it or not.” Lloyd gets straight to the point, “So unless it’s to moan and beg for my dick, I’d suggest you shut your fucking mouth.”

You pout – why is he being so mean? Isn’t Lloyd meant to be nice and caring like how he said all daddies are? You decide it’s probably because he’s in pain. Oh! His pain! You’d completely forgotten that you were doing this to help ease his pain, and you mentally kick yourself for being so selfish.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” You say pitifully, but Lloyd’s too busy fondling your breasts, leaning down to lick around your nipple before taking the hard nub into his mouth and giving it a noisy suck. And the simple action has you squealing in pleasure and excitement before he stops and gives you a wolfish grin.

“Okay, sunshine. I’m in a good mood so we’ll take this nice and slow, okay?” You nod happily and he continues, “I want you to count up till five. Can you do that, honey? Can your little baby brain count up till five?”

“Y-Yes.” You squeak, “One, two, thr– OW, OH MY, AH, AH, AH! DADDY!”

Lloyd doesn’t give a shit if he’s being cruel, but he’s not about to ease his dick into you when your drippy, tight cunt is right there in front of him. Which is why, in one hard and unforgiving thrust, his pistons his fat dick into your virgin pussy, ignoring the tightness that tries to squeeze him back out.

“God fucking damn,” He grunts, because your tight walls are squeezing him like a vice, “Goddamn this fucking baby cunt, fuck!”

And you’re crying and crying, chest heaving and limbs flailing at the intrusion. He’s so big, so, so, so big. How has he managed to fit inside of you? It’s the worst pain imaginable – and it’s indescribable how full you feel. So full of Lloyd’s girthy, fat dick – the only dick you’ve seen, the only dick that’s ever been inside of you.

“Hurts!” You cry, “Hurts so bad!”

Lloyd couldn’t give less of a shit if it hurts for you – because it feels fucking amazing for him. But seeing your eyes scrunched shut and tears dripping down your cheeks, he can’t help but lick up your face, gathering the salty tears on his tongue and groaning with pleasure as he bottoms out inside of you.

“Open those eyes, sunshine.” He says softly against your lips, “Open those eyes and cry harder for me. Like a fuckin’ baby. Daddy loves that shit.”

“Y-You said… You said…” You choke back tears, tiny hands gripping at his bulging biceps, and Lloyd can’t help but laugh at your broken voice, “You said to count till f-five!”

“I did? Oh, sunshine, I guess I lied.” Lloyd’s barely even paying attention to you, his gaze shifting down to where you two meet. He pulls his dick out of you slowly, savouring your tightness and moaning internally when he sees his dick coated in your cream and your virgin blood. Fuck, if that ain’t the prettiest thing he’s ever seen…

“Not nice!” You sob harder, bracing yourself when he pushes back into you. And it hurts all over again, you just can’t wrap your head around how big he is, “Ah, why are you be-being so mean?”

Lloyd doesn’t bother answering your dumb question, instead grinding his hips down before pulling out and slamming back in. Grabbing your thigh, he pins it above his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck you. And he thanks his lucky stars that he didn’t use a condom, because fucking your baby cunt bare is nothing short of heavenly.

And he’s not completely opposed to the idea of knocking you up either.

“My dumb little baby,” Lloyd coos, cupping your face in his hands, “How does it feel to finally get fucked? I bet your old dad would be so proud of you, huh? Fucking his worst enemy because you think I’m gonna let you go after this.”

You shake your head, focusing on Lloyd’s navy eyes that are both so beautiful and so cruel. His pale skin smattered with scars from old battles, his strong, bumped nose and full pink lips. His moustache that tickles your face when he leans down over you.

“Daddy,” you cry out softly, dull thrill rippling throughout your body as he continues to thrust into you, the tip of his dick hitting a certain part inside you that has you gasping with pleasure. “Oh, daddy, still hurts but… f-feels all tingly again!”

“I’ll bet it fucking does,” He growls, picking up his pace and going into full jackhammer mode, wanting to see your cunt all messy and ruined, suddenly wanting to wreck you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that there was going to be anyone else getting between your legs. “Baby, say this is daddy’s pussy.”

“Th-This is daddy’s pussy!” You cry, all thoughts quickly leaving your mind except for Lloyd – his arms, his body, his dick, him. “Nngh, ugh! Daddy!”

There’s this pressure building up inside your lower belly, and every time his dick hits that spot inside you, the pressure mounts up further. You gasp when Lloyd forces your mouth open, spitting on your panting tongue and smirking when you look up at him in fear mixed with lust, his saliva sitting pretty inside your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You do as he orders you, completely submissive and slowly going dumb for him. God, it’s the prettiest sight in the world, you being so docile even when he’s fucking you so roughly despite it being your first time.

“Tell me you love my spit. Ask daddy to spit in your mouth again.” Lloyd grunts out over the lewd sound of his balls slapping against you with each hard thrust.

“L-Love your spit, please spit in my mouth again, daddy!” You beg him, and God, you sound so needy. Lloyd reaches out to pat your cheek, loving when your head lolls to the side. You’re gone. Fucked completely dumb and he’s barely even started.

Using his thumb and forefinger to pry your drooling mouth open, he once again spits, and then again. The first lands straight in your mouth again and you swallow like an obedient baby. The next glob of saliva lands on your cheek, and God, you look so messy. So messy and slutty yet innocent at the same time. Fuck. Lloyd wants to devour you.

Hand slipping down, he swats your ass once, twice, three times. The harsh smacking jolts you back into reality, and now you’re screaming in earnest. Your little princess bed is rickety underneath you, the headboard banging noisily against the wall as Lloyd fucks the living daylights out of you. Your pleasure is building up with each slam of his dick, his tip hitting your cervix and making you cry out his name needily.

“Yes, baby, give daddy your cream,” Lloyd finds himself coaxing you, his fingers wrapping around your pretty little throat and loving how you squeeze around his dick when he does that, “Mm, you’re a fuckin’ depraved little baby, aren’t you? You like it when daddy chokes you, huh?”

You let out incoherent gurgles and pleas, humping upwards to meet his thrusts as your eyes slowly begin to roll to the back of your head. “L-Like it, daddy! Don’t know – ah – don’t know why, but I like it – OOH, DADDY! FEELS TINGLY, FEELS SO – AH!”

Lloyd loves the look of pure bliss and confusion on your face when you clench around him and give him your first ever orgasm. He really loves the power trip that comes with the fact that he’s given you your first ever feeling of such intense pleasure, and you’ve squirted around his dick. He pins your hips down as your limbs flail uncontrollably, fresh tears in your eyes and moaning like a broken record player: “oh, daddy, daddy, daddy!”

“God, so fuckin’ tight, sweet baby,” Lloyd hisses, feeling his balls tighten, “Squeezing daddy so good, aren’t you? God, I love your fuckin’ baby cunt and how it swallows daddy’s fat dick. Little fuckin’ virgin cunt all messy and ruined, fuck! Make a mess on my dick, you little cry baby. Fuck!”

One hand gripping his bicep and the other fisting the pink satin sheets underneath you, you come undone in what is the most earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever had. It’s also the only orgasm you’ve ever had, and you scream so loud, his name on the tip of your tongue, “Oh, daddy! Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!”

“Not God, you dumb baby, just me.” Lloyd slaps your breast before squeezing it hard. With an almighty grunt, he releases inside of you. Filling you with his hot, searing cum, ropes and ropes of it, so thick and making you feel so full. You feel it inside your very depths, claiming you, making his mark on your body.

With a shudder, he collapses on top of your weak body, and you’re so frail and spent, breathing hard and eyes glassy like you’re about to pass out. You can’t even form a single thought, all you can feel is your body shaking from the remnants of your powerful orgasm, and Lloyd’s cum which doesn’t even fit inside you, dripping out lewdly from your used fuckholes and onto your princess sheets.

“My baby, all mine,” Lloyd croons, kissing up your neck and pecking your lips, “Can’t believe how easy it was to pop your cherry.”

You blink, completely dazed and unable to form any words, just gaping up at him and trying your hardest not to black out. His sweet kisses trail up your cheek, gathering your tears along the way.

“And you know the best part, sunshine?” Your captor sings, cupping your cheek with his calloused hand, “I’m never letting you go. And guess what? Your douche of a dad is downstairs. In fact, you can say hi to him because the camera’s right there.” Lloyd twists his body slightly and points up at the red light above the dresser.

You feel your blood run cold, but you’re still too fucked out to form a sentence, “Wh-What–”

“He’s been watching us, baby.” Lloyd says proudly, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger and making you forcibly look at the camera, “Bet you didn’t think your first time would be livestreamed, did you, sunshine? Bet your dad sang like a canary once he saw his worst enemy fucking his daughter while he sits downstairs, handcuffed to a chair and completely helpless.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, but your legs are still shaking from your orgasm, and you don’t have the energy to push him off you, “H-How could you?” You cringe away from the damning red light of the camera.

“Because I can.” Lloyd answers simply, “But don’t worry, baby. It wasn’t all business. Your tight little baby cunt is something I could get used to. I think I’m gonna keep you, once I’ve questioned your dad and gotten rid of him, of course.”

He covers your face in kisses, his moustache scratching your sensitive, tear-stained cheeks as you lie underneath him, stoic and shocked.

“What do you say, sunshine? Ready to be your new daddy’s little girl?”

THE END! What do you guys think? I wrote this all today because I was rewatching some The Gray Man scenes and got super inspired! Please, please, please, feedback is so important so do tell me what you think! Please share with anyone you think might enjoy this, and any Lloyd enthusiasts! Reblogs means the world to writers, so please reblog and share! THANK YOU! ILY!

#lloyd hansen #Lloyd hansen x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #the gray man #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans smut #dark lloyd hansen

[essentiallyleaf]

day 17. intercrural sex. with. minju.

648 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, intercrural sex, handjob, noona minju, super subby reader (honestly kind of a wimp, but who isn’t a wimp for this girl), and they were roommates!

notes.

kinda short because i make the rules. or because i’m a bit of a cuck. close call. misjudgingly, leaf.

Minju comes back home after 2 a.m., the door creaking when she comes in, her boots knocking against the wooden floor as she takes them off, only the light of her phone’s screen illuminating her face.

“Noona? Why so late?” You ask in a low voice, more worried than curious.

“Hm? Are you still awake?” She whispers back.

“Usually you call to say you’ll be late…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. Were you staying up waiting for me?” She asks, flattered. “You know you can go to sleep next time, right?”

“I tried, I just couldn’t fall asleep.” You say in a saddened tone. “The bed feels really cold…”

“Does it? Want me to lie down with you, hm?” You nod your head in the dark. Somehow, Minju gets the message and lies down on top of you, her hands around your shoulders, your cheeks touching. She rubs hers against yours slowly, it feels fluffy like a cloud in the sky.

“Better? You think you can fall asleep now?”

“I don’t know… I don’t feel that tired anymore…”

“Hm, you stayed up so long to wait for me, I think you deserve a present”

She lifts her hips slightly to pull her dress up and her panties down, then lowers your pajama pants together with your boxers. She lets some saliva drop on her fingers and spreads it out, then wraps them around your half-erect length (it feels good to have Minju even just hug you) and strokes it lightly but thoroughly, even reaching down to knead your balls from time to time. You moan in her ear.

“Wait, wait, hehe~ This is not the present yet!”

When you reach full hardness, she holds your dick up, then wraps her thighs around it tightly, her ankles crossing, and you can feel the slight wetness of her slit coat part of your shaft. She lifts her hips up until your tip is touching the front of her pussy, then drops down until your belly buttons touch again, the last bit of your cock peeping between her plump buttcheeks. She repeats the same movement several times at a steady pace, and her thighs feel so soft around you, it’s like you’re dipping a spoon in a jar of honey. Or rather, a jar of honey being dropped repeatedly on a standing spoon, however that would work, physically.

“NoonacanIholdyou?” You blurt out, mostly lost in pleasure.

“Of course you can, honey” You quickly wrap your arms around her waist, so tightly that it’s honestly surprising she’s still able to breathe.

“You can touch down lower if you want~” You want.

You swiftly shift your hands down to grab her pillowy ass, she yelps in surprise, then immediately smiles adoringly. You let out what sounds like one big, drawn out groan, but really it goes on for minutes straight as she keeps pumping at an imperceptibly increasing pace. Minju’s thighs are heaven, a heaven that you can’t let go of, so reach even lower and hold, rub, massage her every bit of her softness with every bit of your palms and digits.

“Noona, I’m a-I’mboutta…”

“Hm, relax, and let go, then. Just let go, baby”

You thrust up a few times as you feel your peak coming, and while you whimper in her ear and keep holding for dear life onto her thighs and cheeks, spurts of white burst out and up in the air, landing on her pillow-like features, some of them hitting your hands, others all over your bed.

“Shhh, so nice, you came so much for me~” She whispers while caressing your scalp and slowly moving her hips in circles before stopping completely. You are spent, and need a couple minutes to even regain consciousness.

“Noona, did you- you wanna-”

“Mh-hm, I’m ok, baby. You seem very tired now, so I just need you to fall asleep, okay~?”

-

footnotes.

i suck at goodbyes. fadingly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #izone #minju #kim minju #izone minju #izone smut #minju smut #kim minju smut #izone minju smut

[alyyybrooke]

baby it's cold outside

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Tara is really late. Where is she?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 0.5k

You glance out the window. Little bits of snow fall to the ground, and a delicate frost covers the glass. The house is cold, even with the heater buzzing and the blanket enveloped around you. 

You check your phone, hoping for an “omw” from Tara, but you only find an Instagram notification. You sigh as you check the clock. 7:04. She should be here soon, it’s not like her to be late. You decide to send her a text, as you’ve done every 30 minutes that she hasn’t shown up.

u okay? waiting for u

You put the phone down and snuggle deeper into your fluffy blanket, wishing it was Tara instead. Thoughts of the worst possible scenarios plague your mind. What if something happened to her? What if she’s cheating on you? No. She would never. But what if? 

To take your mind off things you make some hot chocolate. You start heating the milk, then stirring the packet of powdered chocolate into it. The two mugs are steaming and hot to the touch. You go back to the couch and settle into the cushions, hoping Tara will be back to soothe your aching heart. 

But the steam dissipates and the untouched mug becomes cold. You try not to cry as you think of the worst, but it’s nigh impossible. You text her again.

baby im really worried. please tell me ur okay

Another hour passes without a response. You’ve put on one of Tara’s hoodies, wanting to engulf yourself in the comfort of her scent. It isn’t until nearly 10 that she shows up. 

She bursts through the door, hair sprinkled with flakes of snow, skin beet red. You throw yourself into her arms, hugging her shivering figure.

“Where were you?!”

She wraps her arms around you, soaking up your warmth. Her face is buried in your neck as she squeezes you tightly. 

“T-the s-snow blocked the road. I had to walk home…and my phone died. I’m s-so sorry, my love…” she stammers, her voice trembling. 

Your heart sinks as you hear this. You cradle her in your arms, wanting to warm her up as quickly as possible. 

“Shhh…it’s okay. Come to the couch. I made you hot chocolate.” You lead her to the couch and you wrap the blanket around her. As the hot chocolate warms up in the microwave, you brush the snow out of her raven hair. You run your fingers through it, nails gently scratching her scalp.

“I’m just happy you’re home,” you whisper softly.

“Me too.”

You hand her the hot chocolate and sit beside her, immediately wrapping your arms around her petite body. The blanket is draped around you both, as you try to get as close as physically possible. The pink has faded from her cheeks, but she still blushes as you kiss the cold away. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she says shyly.

“I’ll always take care of you.”

That night, you two didn’t leave the couch. Though the bed is softer and more comfortable, neither of you dared to break the perfect embrace. The lights dimmed and the heater turned off, yet the love between you two was more than enough to keep you warm.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter

[hellishjoel]

let the light in

8.8k / pairing: dbf/neighbor joel miller x f!reader

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog | cinnamon girl masterlist

summary: Joel takes you on your first proper date, but there’s trouble in Houston. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, dbf/neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), cursing, use of pet names (kitten, angel, baby girl, etc.), daddy kink, unprotected p in v, a lil praise kink, a slight Table for Two crossover if you squint, daddy issues, Joel smoking cigarettes

A/N: the one time I was actually ON TIME to finish a Cinnamon Girl chapter, and I get slapped with covid - but here it is a week late! thank you to @saradika-graphics for the banners <3

Light leaks through the tattered curtains, slipping through the seams and highlighting Joel’s cheekbone. 

It almost scares you. Like you’re not in the safety of the motel room but rather in his bed or in your own at the summer cabin. Like your parents or Sarah could walk in at any moment and see you curled into Joel’s side, both naked from the waist down. It’s like a nightmare, your heart rate startling you awake. 

Your shoulders bunch as you recollect air to your lungs and settle, hazy vision settling on the motel room. Joel is sound asleep, a large lumberjack with large breaths in and large breaths out. You can’t help but watch him. He looks peaceful. Sound asleep, untouched by the problems of the outside works. 

Being this close to him feels odd. It still feels like you’re not supposed to be here, this damn close. In fact, you’re supposed to be at least fifteen feet from him, hiding. But you don’t have to hide, not here. There are no skeptical eyes, no nosey neighbors or parents. You can hold his hand, smile at him with real meaning, and sleep beside him. Enjoy pleasure with him. 

A sigh leaves your lips, and you gently rest your forehead against his toned shoulder. He’s warm. A furnace, really. Your eyes flutter closed, lulling you into slumber once more. The next time you wake, your arms are locked around his waist in a tight bear hug. Your head had found a place of safety against his side and tucked into his armpit. You were curled up in a ball, a strong hand skimming up and down your back peacefully. 

That pesky feeling surges you awake again, like you’re not supposed to be here. You shoot up with a bit more gust, your speeding heart rate sending you up again as your eyelashes flutter in panic. 

“Shhh,” a gentle, low voice hums. 

It’s not enough to calm you yet, your stomach lurches as you’re tiredly sitting up and pushing away from the safety you were once encapsulated in. 

“Joel,” you whisper with concern, feeling your shoulders lock up, sitting exhaustedly up on your elbows. You take in your surroundings, the old mini fridge and the aging television speckled with dust. Your backpack and Joel’s duffel bag on the spare bed. The pounding in your chest halts, falling weakly into his awaiting arms once more. 

“I’m sorry, I thought,” your speech falters, not able to string together a hazy thought. 

“I know,” Joel whispers, allowing you to rest beside him once more. You frown as you lay your cheek against his pec, finding comfort in twirling your finger around his longer chest hair. 

A comforting silence relaxes the two of you, the daylight casting more warmth into the room, and now it was highlighting a fuzzy rectangle along his abdomen. You trace the shape, humming softly as you turn your head and rest your chin on his chest, smiling softly at the sight of his messy hair. 

“You look like you slept well.” You tease, pushing your fingers through his faded dark hair, trying to relax the messy, knotted locks. His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers gently. 

“You look like you just woke up from a nightmare.” 

Your smile falters, only now taking in that he saw you in a panic waking up beside him. 

“It wasn’t about you. This,” You clarify, soft eyes meeting his chocolate ones. “I’m not used to being with you. Just you.” 

Joel rests your clasped hands over his chest. You can feel his delicate heartbeat. 

“I know. S’okay.” 

You usually hate when he talks so little, a deadbolted door or a bank safe with his thoughts. But hearing his limited reassurance was actually soothing. No over-explanation is needed. 

“But it’s nice?” You ask curiously, bringing his calloused hand gently to your lips, leaving soft kisses in your wake along brandished knuckles. 

Joel’s lips quirk up in a fatigued smile.”S’more than nice. I haven’t slept that good in ages.” 

You roll your eyes playfully and sit up on your knees at his side, still holding his hand as you gently squeeze. “It’s the sex that got you to sleep so soundly, wasn’t it?” You ask with a smirk, gently biting down on the plush of your lower lip. 

Now with you sat up fully, Joel’s tired eyes linger on your taut nipples making peaks under your pajama shirt. He tuts tiredly and sits up on his elbows, releasing your hand to lock around the outside of your thigh, guiding it over his lap and allowing you to straddle him.

“Wasn’t the sex. Was you.” 

A shiver travels up your back, pursing your lips to dial down your growing smile, pressing your hips further down into his, and letting your ass lightly grind down into his morning wood. 

“You sure about that, cowboy?” You hum, taking his hand and guiding it up to your neck, weakly winding his fingers around the expanse of your throat. You hum, letting him feel the vibration. He likes it, you can tell by the way his fingers twitch just a smidge tighter and the way he swells against your core.  You drag him by his wrist lower, between the valley of your breasts, feeling the slopes even over your baggy short-sleeve tee.  

“Guide me.” You whisper, settling his hand to tighten around your hip as you continue to roll them at an agonizingly slow pace. “Guide me, Joel. However you want.” 

Joel’s eyes noticeably darken despite the light beginning to pierce the room. Something twitches behind his jaw, and the all-too-familiar feeling in your stomach ignites at his gaze. 

A wet spot sprouts between your legs, and you silently pat yourself on the back for not putting on the one last sacred pair of panties you had packed. You whimper weakly and let your eyes drift closed, settling both of your hands on the tops of his thighs. You’re now blindly aware that both of you abandoned wearing any sort of undergarments to bed. Thank god, you think. 

Joel grunts quietly as his hands tighten on your hips. You two are damn near perfectly centered because his cock is swelling perfectly between your wet folds. He’s impossible to ignore. 

You’re nipping at your bottom lip, throwing your head back in quiet bliss, arching your back, feeling your hair fan out as your nails dig into Joel’s meaty thighs. 

Joel’s persistent, patient, insisting on watching you crumble. You’re weak for him, heat creeping up your spine and growing tacky against your temples. 

“Guide me, Daddy.” Your hips twitch faster at the name, it slipped without you even thinking. But you didn’t regret it. Frankly, you liked it. But was it weird to him? 

You gulp and sit up properly, your hips slowing to a halt. “Joel, I-” 

“I didn’t say t’stop.” His chest rumbles, eyes piercing yours. 

Goosebumps blew across your skin like a cold breeze had settled in, lips parting in surprise. His voice was guttural, deep, sending a spark to your core. 

“I’m sorry,” you move to start again, but his large palms grip your ass, pausing your movements and making you whimper. You needed the friction, you needed him. 

“You’re sorry, what?” He probes, feeling a heat spread across your chest and down into your stomach. 

“I’m sorry… Daddy.” You whisper with a coy smile, moving your hands to his chest and forcing him to fall back into the bed, off his forearms. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Joel’s smirk is sick and twisted, a masterpiece. It thrills you like a rollercoaster drifting down, sending a lightning strike to your core and making you sticky with arousal, coating his dick in the process. A shaky breath leaves your parted lips, using the leverage of your one hand on his chest while the other fishes for his dick between his thighs. You wrap your hand around him and shuffle it up and down his length, feeling him fatten in your hand and leak drops of precum. 

Joel grumbles at the feeling, watching as his chest rose and fell at a quicker rate with the attention. He’s so sexy being handled by you. You can feel his thighs twitching below your own, little grunts of pleasure leaving his rosy lips. 

“You wanna ride me, princess?” He asks, coffee-colored orbs glowing with need. 

You pause for a moment, eyes landing on his with hesitation. You push down your nerves and swallow, lining his tip up to your entrance and feeling his tip slowly sink in. You flinch over his lap again, a little inexperienced with being on top. It just doesn’t quite feel right, and you don’t want to hurt him. 

A huff leaves your impatient lips, trying again to line him up, but he still doesn’t catch. You roll your eyes at yourself, cursing under your breath. How the fuck do you get it in from up here? You want to ride a dick, not solve a Rubix cube. Now, your arm was shaking from holding you up for so long, making you a bit unsteady. Frustration festered in your blood, jaw clenched as Joel watched you patiently. 

Joel’s trying not to snicker. It’s not you exactly that’s making him laugh, but your continued lack of wanting any sort of help. “Can I?” 

“No.” You say a little too fast, eyes meeting his surprised ones after a moment. “Sorry, but no, I’ve got it. Just- just give me a minute.” 

Joel cocked his eyebrow and watched with satisfaction as you tried over and over again to sit on his dick. He clasped his hands behind his head, biceps bulging at either side of his head. 

Your head was so fuzzy with need that your fidgeting hands kept losing the perfect angle for him to slip inside. You grunted in annoyance, having to take a break as you planted both hands on his chest again. Sweat clustered at the backside of your neck, shyly catching a glance at him. Cocky son of a bitch. Just watching you with a smile. 

“I offered t’help, darlin’.” He said with a light shrug, making you whimper quietly. 

“But I wanted to do it on my own.” 

Joel’s hands unwind from behind his head, guiding them to your back and gently adding pressure to allow you to rest over his front. 

“I know ya did, baby girl. Let Daddy help you.” 

You whimper but nod with a soft pout, feeling his calloused and rough palms coast lower to the flesh of your ass. You moan quietly and drift your eyes closed, nose nustling against his chest hair for comfort. 

“Your problem is always that y’not relaxed enough. Y’hold too much pressure on yourself to be perfect all the damn time.” You hide your frown, feeling unveiled to him once again. Vulnerable. Joel had a knack for always knowing what was going on in your head, even when you didn’t. “Breathe in, kitten.” 

Your eyelashes flutter, but you did as he asked, taking in a deep breath. His hand fists the base of his cock, guiding himself up and down your wet center. Just as you weren’t anticipating him, his tip nudged into your entrance, making you gasp. 

“Shh, shh,” he whispers again, his other hand lightly fisting your hair and swiping it off your shoulder and out of his way. You whine as you slowly sink over him. 

Reminded of his words, you took a few more deep breaths and allowed him to enter you fully. All the air left your weak lungs, broken mewls for more left your parted lips, and fanned hot breaths across his chest. 

Your head drops in defeat, forehead to his warm neck. “I’ve only done this like... once. It probably doesn’t even count, the guy came before I even got to ride him.” You bite back a smile as you peek your head up, feeling his abdomen contort under you, an effect of your walls tightening around him. 

Joel slowly nodded, jaw tight, eyes still as dark as night. “S’cause you were fuckin’ around with boys. Daddy’s here now. I’ll guide ya.” He assures, wrapping his large hands around your wrists and setting you up once again to lean on his chest. 

You sit up with newfound confidence, and he guides your body just like he prefers. 

“Which feels better,” he starts to ask as you sit up properly. You can feel every damn inch of Joel, but you’re attempting to focus on him, and not his dick piercing the air from your chest. You feel his hands on your calves, gently tapping. 

“You wanna roll your hips, bounce forward a little, keeping your hands here? Or,” he pauses again and guides your feet to settle in at his sides instead of your calves, putting your hands on his upper thighs again. Shit. This one you felt a little less confident in, less able to control your body. And the last thing you wanted was to fall off. 

Joel watches as you shake your head with a shy little smile. He observes you bring your hands back to his chest, planting them on his pecs. Your small little hands were adorable on the large planes of his upper half. 

Like this? You silently ask with your eyes. 

He nods, watching you move back down onto your calves. 

“You ready?” He asks, putting his own hands on your hips. 

Reassurance floods through his palms, and you give him another tight nod. He was swelled inside of you, whimpering weakly as you slowly leaned forward, following the nervous lump in your throat. You slowly push back, and he fills you again. You moan for him, telling him with little to no words how perfect he feels inside of you. 

You keep your pace, back and forth, using the leverage from your hands on his chest as he watches you in blissed-out amazement. He starts to grunt quietly with each of your bounces. You find a pace that suits you. Joel’s hands teach you how to roll your hips, not just bounce, and it lulls you into a haze. It feels like heaven. 

“Christ,” he mutters, groaning as your walls squeeze him. “Fuck me so good, pretty girl. Faster, now.” 

Your head lifts up weakly at his demands, whimpering loudly as your fingernails etch moon-shaped dents into his flesh. But you do as he says because you like when he calls you his pretty girl. His obedient girl. 

With a flush of heat flooding through your core, you sit up and continue bouncing, feeling your ass clap against the tops of his thighs. You take his hands off your hips and interlock them, whimpering loudly as you continue to ride his cock. He’s pulsing inside of you, being gushed with your arousal. You loved holding his hands, it was comforting, calmed your rattling nerves. 

“God fucking- Christ, Daddy, please,” you whimper out, jaw slack as you feel every vein in his cock, even his slight curve that had you mewling for more as he buried himself inside of you to the hilt. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, so good for Daddy, look so fuckin’ hot on top.” He smirks, making your head swirl.  You can’t help but expel desperate moans at his praise, feeling your head spin as your euphoria threatens the seams of your vision. Everything was a haze. You only knew to keep moving, keep satisfying each other. 

“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” you say with each bounce, your body keeping this faster pace as you clench desperately around him. He was so deep, kissing your cervix with each thrust and making your stomach twist. 

Joel was in awe. Couldn’t believe he had such a beautiful girl hopping in his lap first thing in the morning. This newfound confidence suits you, he thinks. His hands lose yours, but only for a moment, fed up with seeing your breasts jump under your shirt. He needs to see you bare, perfectly nude, for his liking.  

You aid off the material and quickly fling it aside, pausing for a breath to grind down against him, coating his balls in your wetness. The large expanse of Joel’s palms coasts up your stomach and to your breasts, squeezing and kneading at the pretty mounds. He pinches your nipples between his thumbs and forefinger, watching them get their color hot with attention. You whine at the harshness, but god, do you love it. It made you all the more sensitive, feeling your clit tingle with need. You were breathless now, panting his name in a dizzy heat. 

“Feels so good, Daddy,” you gulp, pausing your movements for a moment. 

“Getting tired, princess?” Joel asks, watching his girl grow winded at her first time riding. It was sweet, really. Just seeing her try was enough for him. 

You slowly smirk and shake your head slowly, continuing to grind your core against his. Your clit catches friction from his pubic hairs, whining like a needy brat. 

“I’m gonna make you cum like this, Daddy. Just wait.” You take a deep breath and start again, taking his hands in yours as you start bouncing once more.

Joel plants his feet into the bed, finding the new position a little easier to let you glide up and down his dick, even meeting your thrusts when you let him. He grunts, feeling a sheen of sweat glisten across his brow. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as he feels his orgasm approach. 

He instinctively reaches his hand forward, large thumb finding your swollen clit. It’s enough to make your hips twitch at the contact, hinting at the desperation of your own finish. He begins to circle you, making your jaw drop. It was a lot, all of it, perfectly too much. You were self-indulging yourself with Joel’s fat cock. 

“That’s it, princess, finish on my dick like a good girl, Daddy wants to see you come.” Joel’s own stomach couldn’t help but feel the high coursing through his veins, grunting as your pretty ass clapped loudly against his thighs, the sound echoing inside the room and back into his ears. 

You couldn’t hold on anymore; your head grew fuzzy, and your eyes began to see stars. This orgasm felt so different from any others, the build-up was enough to make your heart pump hard in your ears. 

Crying out weakly, you shift your hips faster, weakly grinding as you come undone over his cock. Your head hung low, shuddering your back and shoulders as you felt Joel pump rope after rope of white hot cum inside of you. He paints your walls in his name, marking you as his, finishing with grunts of your pretty little name on his lips. 

Collapsing on his chest, you let him stuff you. 

“Fuck, baby girl,” Joel said breathily, eyes closed, chest rising quickly as he regained his strength. You couldn’t care less about the mess between your thighs. You loved this feeling. Joel kept his warm cum stuffed inside of you, feeling it weakly leak whenever you shifted. You sponged kisses across his damp chest, smirking hellishly when you saw the effect you had on him. 

He scoffs at your goading face, weakly running his thumb across the rich color of your lower lip. 

“Told ya you could do it.” You giggle softly and press a delicate kiss to his chin, then his lips. “Thanks for the help.” You finally muster up, feeling him press another kiss to your lips. 

“Course, angel.” 

Sex in the morning was like a sugar rush. It filled you with energy. Joel couldn’t really relate. 

Getting him out of bed was damn near impossible. You were jumping off the walls, asking what today’s plans were, if he was hungry like you were, and if you could get up to shower together. Meanwhile, he just laid there and sort of… groaned. He barely let you get up, content with letting his softened cock stay inside you for eternity. 

You did manage to pester him enough to take a shower, noting that he smelled of cum and sex, to which he replied,  “Well… yeah.”

You munched on a Pop-Tart as Joel finished getting dressed, a dark pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a breast pocket, where he tucked his glasses and a pencil. You held back a snicker, thinking about how cute he was. 

“Are those glasses for spotting birds?”

He took the Pop-Tart out of your mouth so fast, making you whine in annoyance. “Enough with the damn bird jokes.” He said before taking a bite and handing the dry pastry back to you. 

“Ahh-howe.” You mutter, the dry crumbs making your words a bit muffled. 

Joel gathers a few papers from his bag, they look like etched-out designs. You crane your head to watch him, listening to him mutter to himself what he needs to get today. He explains in the truck that he found a supplier in the East part of Houston, wanting to choose someone local rather than online. He was looking for cathedral-stained glass, something transparent compared to opalescent or wispy. He had specific colors and textures in mind, it was all here on his scattered papers. Your fingers follow the smooth lines of graphite, smiling lightly at the design Joel had put so much time into and got approved by the church. 

“So.. you already have all the tools for this?” 

Joel hums and takes a left-hand turn down a small street. “They’ll have a glass cutter there for me, but I’ve got the rest back home at the tool shed. Grinder, soldering iron, solder, flux, the pattern template.”

“Well, what about gloves? Don’t want you to get cut.”

He scoffs playfully, biting down a smile. “Got those too, baby. Don’t have to worry about me.” 

You suck in the side of your cheek and look out the window, hiding your shy face. Of course you worried about him. The last thing you needed was to see Joel with a nicked-up hand running out of his woodshed. 

Joel parks in a small driveway by a sign labeled Lighthouse Glass. You shove your hands in your pockets and follow him through the front door. A bell gently chimes above you, alerting the workers to your entrance. 

The store is just filled. Stained glass lamps, panels, different art designs, and glass cases filled with the pricier pieces. The selection is wide and also included tools a glazier might need. Joel taught you that word in the truck, he was a stained glass glazier in training. 

The far wall was all shelving of various sizes, with smaller cubbies for small to medium-sized stained glass pieces and larger slots for the big, rectangular-sized ones. They were color-coded, too, starting with different shades of blue until they filtered across the rainbow to bright red slices. Small squares showed different samples for inspiration, you found a beautiful aquamarine one that looked beautiful in the summer light. The room was a rainbow hue because of all the art hanging up in the window. Everything sparkled. 

An older woman comes out from a back hallway with worn-in wrinkles at her eyes and a passionate smile. She wore long sleeves and jeans under a smock. Her hair was tied back, and a patterned headband wrapped around her strawberry-blonde hairline. 

“Joel?” She asks, to which Joel shoves out his hand from his jeans. 

“Nice to meet ya.” He cranes his head to you, jutting his chin out as a silent way of telling you to move up. “This is my assistant for the day.” 

“Oh,” she cooes with a kind smile, shaking your hand as well. “Nice to meet you both! We’ve been expecting you. Well, this is the showroom,” she extends out her hands to explain, walking through the aisles as you and Joel followed suit. 

This reminded you of antique shopping with your mother when you were younger. She scorned you not to touch anything. If you break it, you buy it. So you kept your hands to yourself, watching Joel’s boots as you kept your head low. 

It was a very creative atmosphere, to say the least. There were a few customers further inside the store, by the cutting and customization counter. Everyone was here for something a little different, but who else was working on a giant church mural like Joel was? 

He unrolled his planning maps to the woman, the name Jo etched on her nametag. She said you had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen and even pulled out a small stained glass square that matched the hue perfectly just from the top of her head. You smiled at the little piece she had given you that you held in your lap, fingers gently feeling up and down the opalescent stained glass. It had a few different shades, it looked like a Monet painting. 

Joel glanced over to the piece you held affectionately in your lap, smiling softly at the sight. You had a thing for trinkets, the small things. You lift your head, and Joel swiftly drifts his gaze, clearing his throat as he watches Jo examine his maps. Under the surface of the table, you gently curl your finger around Joel’s pointer. Your thumb gently swipes back and forth across his knuckle, butterflies cascading through your chest as he squeezes your finger affectionately. 

“Joel, you’re sure you’re an amateur at this? This is impressive work.” Her compliment made Joel grow a little rosy in the apples of his cheeks. “Everything you have drawn up is achievable. We can start picking out the colors and have them shipped either straight to your home or to the work site. Whatever you prefer.” 

As good as Joel is at drawing up the plans, he is terrible at colors. You and Jo worked as a team for another hour, finding the right colors that complemented the artwork as a whole. Joel somehow kept choosing very clashing pieces, but you just patted him on his arm and said this was a certain science, one that you had a rather good eye for. 

Jo was checking Joel out at the register, paying using one of the city’s cards since they were the ones funding the project. You had a hard time leaving the section filled with brown stained glass pieces. They were the bunch with the most supplies, everyone picking out the vibrant purples or the classy reds, but never the browns. They were nearly untouched, many covered with dust, each panel hidden behind another. You find a certain beauty in them, your fingers dancing along their edge. Chesnut, hazel, a beautiful amber, coffee to caramel, deep mahogany, sweet cocoa, auburn, and a tawny taupe. 

You were torn between burnt mahogany and mahogany brown. The first was a little too purple. Mahogany brown matched Joel’s eyes to a tee. You picked up one of the smaller sample squares and rolled it around in your hand, twisting your lips at the pretty piece. After Joel had preordered all of his cuts and colors, you set your two small squares on the counter. One for your eyes, and one for Joel’s. 

“These too, please.” 

Joel tilted his head curiously, eyes narrowing on your small hands fidgeting protectively over the two small stained glass sample squares. Jo packaged them up carefully for you and handed them over the counter in a small paper bag. 

“Thank you two for your business! Joel, if you need anything, the card for the shop is stapled to your receipt. Feel free to email us pictures of the final piece! We haven’t had anyone do such a large mural. Have a great day.” 

“Thank you, ma’am. Appreciate all your instruction.” He tips his head in typical Southern fashion and walks you out the door. 

Joel eyes the brown paper bag once you’re both returned to his truck. You immediately open it up and let the mahogany square glisten in the late afternoon light. You lay your forehead against the warm window, humming as you gently squeeze it in your palm. 

“Whatcha plannin’ on doin’ with that, buttercup?” He asks, securing his seatbelt. 

You angle your back to the truck door, holding up the square and squinting one eye closed, comparing the glass to the color of Joel’s beautiful eyes. 

“I don’t know yet. But it’s a perfect match.” You whisper as you move closer to him, over the center console as you hold the square beside his temple. His eyes glistened magnificently, but shied away from all the attention you were giving him. He gently shrugs you off and shakes his head. 

“Jus’ don’t cut yourself.” He pauses as he reverses out of the small driveway. “Besides, like the other square better.” He juts up his chin, motioning towards the paper bag. You dig out the other square, the one that resembles your eyes, placing them side by side in your palm. The light bounces off the glass, a harmonious balance between them. Joel’s warmth and comfort, yours strong and vibrant. They complimented one another. You cherished their likeness despite not being the exact same. Carved with love and care. A hobby of Joel’s, now sprinkled with pieces of you. 

You placed them gently back into the bag and secured them in the back of his truck, tucking them in carefully around a spare blanket. 

Joel worked up a hunger and drove you to a diner named Tommy’s Drive-In. It was quite barren, but again, you thrived being perfectly alone with Joel. You didn’t need much, you just liked being in his presence. And you assumed he, yours.  

The waitresses were wearing old fifty-style uniforms, the kind that looked like a dress with little white sneakers. The old maroon leather booths were warmed up by the sun shining through the windows, and you gently slurped up the soda you were given through your straw. 

“What’ll we do now that our big mission of this entire trip is done? Still have the afternoon. And Sunday morning.” You ask as your finger swipes slowly down the menu, reading the different options from salads to sliders. 

Joel is mysteriously quiet. You narrow your eyes on him and gently kick his shin under the table. His head whips up as he grunts, protectively gripping the area you had probably bruised on his knee.  

“Jesus- what the hell,” he gripes, jaw tight as he bore holes into your pretty little face. 

“What are you hiding?” You probe, to which he freezes. After a moment of silence, he sighs and sits up straight, eyes back to the menu. 

“Not hidin’ nothin’.” 

Your eyes narrow on him and his strangely shielded behavior. 

“I’m gonna find up what you’re up to.” 

“Mushroom Swiss burger looks good.” He derails, making you huff. 

Once you both were served your meals, Joel’s mushroom swiss with onion rings and your cheeseburger with fries, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle after you put in an order for a vanilla milkshake.

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms as you lean back in the booth. 

He shakes his head, soft smile silently admiring you.

“Y’do this little… happy dance once ya eat. When you’re hungry, ya sigh a lot and get real quiet. Tap your foot a lot when you’re real hungry. But then when you’re full, ya just..” Joel tries to mimic you, slowly swaying his body back and forth and shimmying his shoulders. You scoff and toss a spare fry at his chest. 

“I do not look like that!”

Joel only chuckles and eats the fry, shaking his head again with that gentle smile. One that he seems to only share with you. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. S’cute.” 

The compliment makes you pick up heat in your neck and face, looking down at your milkshake once it’s served to you. It’s served with a swirl of whipped cream and two cherries. You hum in excitement, absentmindedly doing a little shimmy as you pick up a cherry. It glistens a pretty reddish maroon in the light, splashed with a little whipped cream. You extend it out to Joel, and he looks at you dubiously. Finally, he leans forward, bares his teeth a little, and plucks the cherry from its stem. It stains his lips and tongue, his mahogany eyes on yours. 

His large fingers reach over for the remaining cherry, stealing it from your milkshake and offering it to you. No eyes to hide from, no reason not to be affectionate. If only you could live in this state of bliss forever. 

You part your lips and wrap your mouth around the cherry, only needing a little tug to release the fruit from its stem. Joel gives you an approving nod, feeling it gush sweetness between your teeth. You stick out your cherry-colored tongue, and Joel does the same, eliciting a giggle from you. 

“Share it with me?” You ask as you stick a second straw into the milkshake. 

Joel tries to playfully scoff, shaking his head with a compromising smile. “Haven’t done this with anyone in years. Not since high school, buttercup.” 

You coo and lean over the table to the milkshake in the center, watching Joel do the same. Your stomach flutters with butterflies, your foot gently nudging the ankle of his jeans as you slip your sneaker up and down his calf. 

His face hardens, pulling away from the sugary milkshake with a tense smirk. 

“Knock it off.” He grumbles. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whisper as you inch your sneaker up higher, taking his jeans with it. 

“Don’t start nothin’. We’re headin’ out.”

You huff and take a few more sips of your shake. Joel settles the bill, opening his wallet and leaving a couple of bills at the booth before he walks you out to the truck. His calloused hand settles on your thigh, and your head rests gently on his arm. 

“Joel?” 

His chest vibrates. “Mm?”

“I’m really happy.” You don’t have enough nerve to look at him, hiding by digging your temple into the crook of his strong arm. He squeezes your thigh reassuringly, palm splayed out on your jeans and fingers lightly digging into the material. You wonder if he’s smiling like you are. 

“I’m happy to hear that, cherry.” He whispers soothingly, the gentle hum of the radio highlighting the baritone in his voice. “M’happy, too.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, noting how you are moving deeper into downtown and further from the motel. Head picking up, looking from left to right, confusion knits your brows. 

“Where are we goin’?” You ask, noting the skyscrapers looming larger and larger as you near the heart of the city. 

“You didn’t think I was gonna make you hang out in a motel room all weekend with nothin’ t’do, did ya?” He asks with a growing smile. Was this what he was thinking about back at the diner? You can’t conceal your grin anymore, it’s from ear to ear as he navigates the streets like he’s been here a million times. 

“Welcome to Downtown Aquarium. This magnificent six-acre entertainment and dining complex is a five-hundred-thousand-gallon aquatic wonderland home to over three hundred different species of aquatic life from all around the globe.” 

“Oh my god,” you whisper in excitement, listening to the aquarium guide who is walking the same path as you and Joel. You can’t help but excitedly take his hand and squeeze it. He holds it and doesn’t let go, even when yours slacks naturally. 

You look up to him and know you’re thinking the same thing. There’s no one we know here. We can be whatever we want, whatever we are. 

Joel ducks his head down and captures your lips in a swift kiss, squeezing your hand once more as they pass the entrance upon paying for your tickets. You pass a sign listing the different exhibits that are open right now, including Texas Bayou, Rainforest, and you were especially excited to visit the Stingray Reef, where you could touch live stingrays up close. 

The air was cool, even slightly salty upon walking inside. The soft hum and sputtering of the pumps and filters taking care of the different tanks played in the background of children laughing and giggling. The tanks were clear, supported by vibrant backdrops.  Your eyes skated from one attraction to the other, seeing fish of varying sizes as they glided smoothly like agents of the water. 

The further you walked into the aquarium, the farther you were away from the rambunctious children where you had more of the open glass to yourself. Joel’s own eyes were filled with a certain whimsicalness that can only be found in the eyes of a child, wonder and amazement all encapsulated in awestruck stares. No matter how old you get, there are the little things that fascinate just about anyone. For some people, it was fireworks or artwork that sparked that feeling in your chest. For you and Joel, perhaps it’s being this close to a giant fucking shark.

“Holy shit,” Joel muttered, your own eyes widening as a large, slow-moving shark swam in front of you and Joel. Their grayish-brown exterior caught your eye. They looked a little scary, snaggle-toothed with multiple layers of teeth. But they weren’t scary, they were actually kind of cute. 

“Aww,” you cooed as you stepped closer, gently bringing your hand up to the cool glass as another friend swam by. Joel wanders to the plaque for information, reading silently for a few moments before he decides to read some fun facts aloud for you to hear. 

“Found in temperate and subtropical waters around the world… known for their... unique reproductive strategy? What the f-...” a group of kids run by, halting Joel from swearing. Their light-up shoes make the hallway glow. 

You stifle a laugh and move closer, narrowing your eyes in the dark light. “Unique reproductive strategy called intra... intrauterine cannibalism? What the hell?”

“-Where the embryo consumes its smaller siblings in the womb, ensuring the strongest offspring survives.” Joel cocks his eyebrow like he’s impressed by the unbirthed shark's ferocity. “Damn.” 

“You two sort of look alike.” You sneer, which makes him whip his head in your direction. “Maybe you guys should grab beers after this. You’d have a lot to talk about.” 

Joel purses his lips and crosses his arms, shaking his head shamefully at you. “Looks like someone’s not pettin’ the stingrays no more.” 

“You would never.” You gasp playfully as wrap your arm around his waist while he settles his around the tops of your shoulders. You walk out of the shark tank hallway and back into the open aquarium. 

“I will if you compare me to that shark who eats its own siblings in the womb again.” 

The line to pet and feed the stingrays was long. It was easily the most popular attraction at the aquarium. The line was bustling with children tugging on their mother’s hands, impatient with the time it was taking to meet them. 

“Ocean pancakes.” You whisper, feeling your stomach swirl with nerves but also excitement.

Joel furrows his eyebrows, mouth flat. “What?” 

“Ocean pancakes. The stingrays. They’re the ocean’s pancakes. Flat boys. Cute grey flat boys.”  You’re close enough to the tank now that you can see the stingrays glide gracefully through the water. Your heart swells with eagerness, absentmindedly holding Joel’s hand tighter. 

He blinks a few times dramatically before looking around. “Are you having a stroke? What the hell are you talkin’ about?” 

“We’re next!” You say as you tug him forward. He has this look of hesitancy on his face and takes a step away from the line. 

“Joel?” You ask, and he shakes his head and shrugs, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his denim jeans. 

“No.” 

You scoff. “No, what?”

He shrugs again and juts out his jaw to the side in contemplation. You take his silence as an answer enough. 

“Are you scared?” 

A slight angry expression crosses his pretty features. You cock your eyebrow and cross your arms. You move to step out of line, but he quickly extends his hand out to your shoulder, stopping you. 

“Where you goin’? You’ve haven’t stopped talkin’ about the stingrays since we got here.” 

“I don’t want to do it without you. Want you to experience this with me. Joel, please.”

Joel holds his breath for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. He flares his nostrils but eventually joins you back in line. You couldn’t believe he was scared. You didn’t know him to be fearful of anything. 

“This is just how Irwin went.”

“What?” 

“Nothin’. I’ll give ‘em a little pet, but I ain’t feedin’em.” 

You’re the first of you and Joel to step forward to the attendant, who greeted you with a tired smile. Poor guy, he was probably here all day having to take care of the energetic children. You had to wash your hands before visiting the stingrays. They gave you these little fish to feed the stingrays. The attendant explained that the stingrays’ mouths were on the underside of their bodies. He dunks his hand into the tank and shows you how to feed them in a way that keeps your fingers away from their mouths. One hungry stingray comes right up and scoops it out of his hand, making you grin widely. Your heart raced with excitement, nodding your head as you demonstrated the proper feeding technique. 

With your hand shoved in the water, you and Joel waited patiently. They were a little shy at first, but soon, one started to swim in your direction. It was a beautiful little thing, grey and flapping its sides to skim closer to the surface. It nibbled on the fish before taking it with them, chomping on it in the water as it went. 

Joel smiled widely, his body hunched over the tank as he watched them. 

“Go ahead and pet this guy,” the attendant said as one affectionately came up to just below the surface. You flattened your hand and let your fingers skim its backside. It was cool and cold, smooth even. 

“Come on, Joel, you next.” You said as you brought your hand out and wiped it on a towel. Joel stared at the water for a few moments before he cleared his throat and put a hesitant hand inside. Your head nestles affectionately against his arm, watching the stingrays avoid Joel at first. 

“What did  you say about relaxing again?” You teasingly whispered, feeling his shoulders bunch as he sighed. Before all hope was lost, the same one who looked for pets from you came swimming towards Joel. It went slow, allowing Joel’s fingers to gently cascade down the glorious fish’s back. You watched his smile glow. The feeling was indescribable, doing something like that for the first time. 

“Thanks, folks, enjoy the rest of the aquarium.” 

After washing your hands of the fish smell, you and Joel toured the rest of the aquarium until the evening. You stopped at the small gift shop, and Joel bought you a stingray stuffed animal. You held it to your chest and smiled, adoring its soft fluffiness and the fat plush. 

“You don’t have to get me this. Stuff is so expensive here for no reason.” You whisper, running your thumb along its cheek. 

“Ocean pancake.” He mutters before paying for the overpriced stuffie with a little smile. 

Joel couldn’t stop gushing about the aquarium the entire drive back to the motel, specifically about getting to touch the stingrays. You watched with a certain twinkle in your eye from the passenger seat, the sun setting around your head, illuminating you like an angel. 

“My heart, it was racin’ back there. I mean, how often do ya get to go ahead and pet ‘em, y’know? It was so outside of my-my comfort zone, I never would have done that in a million years if it wasn’t for you.” He pauses and catches your eyes. He stares longingly for as much as he can before he has to turn his attention back to the road. 

There was that funny feeling. That maybe you guys were more. Like a couple. You flinch and look away, bombarded by your own thoughts. You’re only here for the summer. The years between you two were problematic at best. Imagine what your parents would say, what Sarah would think. You don’t have damn near anything in common. But you liked him. God, did you like him.  

You clear your throat as you open your phone for the first time all day. The last thing you had open was your message from Nathan. 

Heard you’re in Danbury for the summer with your folks. Wanna catch up?

Glancing over to Joel, your fingers hesitate over the phone’s keyboard before typing in a response. 

Yeah! I’m out of town this weekend, but maybe when I get back?

You suck in on the side of your cheek, finding yourself turning away from Joel to read over your messages. It’s been so long since you last saw Nathan in person. Your childhood was filled with him and your summers together in Danbury. 

From going to the county fair together and riding all the rides until you were sick from the fair food or watching the fireworks from the lake’s edge. The town barbeque that your mother spent weeks perfecting her dish to contribute. The fourth of July was only a week and a half away, the summer was breezing through so quickly. And this time, Nathan would be here for it, too.

Your phone buzzes once again. 

 I’ll see you then 

A burst of courage ran through your veins. You wanted to ask Joel what this was, if it was anything. Your time together had been so short, barely a month, but you’d known him forever. And these last few years, you had only grown closer. You part your lips to speak, but Joel beats you to it. 

“After this summer. What’s next?” 

Admittedly, you were now at a loss for words. Your uncertainty fazed him. What was he expecting you to say? What did he want? 

You sigh and drop your chin, stroking the stuffie in your lap for comfort. 

“I don’t know yet, Joel. Now that I’ve graduated, I can say I don’t really want to move back home.” You scoff playfully, an anxious feeling sitting in your chest. 

“Home with your parents or home as in Texas?” He probes, no warmth to his face, eyes centered on the road as you left the skyscrapers and high-rise complexes in the rearview mirror. A small pit festered in your abdomen. 

“I don’t know.” You say again, softer this time. 

Joel doesn’t seem content with your answer. He scoffs quietly under his breath and cocks his eyebrow. His thumbs fiddle against the wheel. He knows you want to travel, knows you want to leave. So why is he asking all of this? 

“Only so much of the summer left t’figure it out. I suggest you start thinkin’.”

Your lip snags in a snarl, face pinching as you stare at him. 

“You sound like my parents, Joel.” 

“Yeah,” he shoots back, quick as a whip. “‘Cause we care about ya. Wanna know where you’re headin’ with your life. Need some direction.” 

The muscle behind his jaw twitches, but he stares straight ahead while you stare at him. A pile of bricks rests on your chest, the seemingly safe temple you had built with Joel all came crumbling down around you. 

“You’re not supposed to put this type of pressure on me, I’m allowed time to figure it out.”

“You had four years of time at university. Now is when you should start having a plan.” His hand bangs against the steering wheel in frustration as he pulls into the motel’s lot. 

Emotions are high and they’re getting the best of you. You throw up your wall of defenses, just like you had used once upon a time with your mother on multiple occasions. 

“I’m not like everyone else, Joel, I need more time. And maybe I need to see a few things and experience more before I figure out what that is!” You snap, crossing your arms and staring out the window, your chest tight. “Such a fuckin’ hypocrite you are. You told me to trust myself, and I’m trying.” 

He scoffs quietly and shakes his head. “Not hard enough.” 

Hot tears brim the edges of your eyes. A perfect day spoiled by this hurtful conversation. Your sneakers scuff the pavement, slamming his truck door as you rush inside with the key. Shaky breaths leave you as you grab Joel’s duffel bag off the spare bed and toss it to the one you both slept in last night and spent the morning in. You change into your pajamas in the bathroom, face hot and filled with rage and sadness. You can’t seem to stop the tears that spill. 

Where did that conversation come from? Why did he have to ruin what felt so perfect? Just when you thought you were starting to feel something, Joel’s boot smothered the flames. 

He didn’t come inside, not right away. Gave you both some time to feel the weight of everything. You had your back to the door, your teary face buried into the pillow when he did finally return to the room. His boots thud against the carpet, nearing closer to where you lay. The bed dips where your knees are, his warm presence making you whimper. He smells like cigarettes and pool chlorine. He must have been sitting outside this whole time, filled with his thoughts like you were filled with your own. 

Joel’s hesitant hand rests on your hip, gently stroking his thumb across the material of an all too familiar Longhorns tee. You softly tug the covers up to your chin and sniffle, clenching your eyes closed tighter. 

His head drops, and he sighs weakly. “Never wanted t’make ya cry, sweet girl. M’sorry.” 

You shake your head weakly, eyes still closed, afraid to look him in the eyes. Afraid to feel for him. The moment you open yours, you know you’ll melt into his mahogany warmth and forget anything he ever did to make you so upset. 

He lets out a shaky breath, his hand moving up to gently cradle your head. Your lips part, bleary eyes finally opening to see his puppy dog face. His jaw shifts; he wants to speak but can’t find the right words. Your eyes plead for him. Say something, Joel. You’re losing me. 

A lump grows in your throat, and hot tears start to sting again. You thought you couldn’t cry anymore, that you had run dry. But seeing him again and all the tangled emotions you felt for him reignites the fuel. 

He can’t look at you crying. He focuses on your hand, your delicate fingers fisting the bedsheets that you cradled to your chin. The shield between you and Joel. He doesn’t want you to feel like you need a shield, he’s your shield. Sworn to protect you, care for you in times of need. Never let you down. 

“Please, angel.” He whispers, one of your tears meeting his warm palm as his hand moves to cup your jawline. 

With a shaky breath, you slowly sit up, messy strands tucked behind your ear as you reveal you’ve been holding onto the stingray stuffie under the covers. 

After a pause, seeing you sit up straight and face him. He forces himself to find his words. 

“I feel more for you than I know I should.” Joel stumbles, licks his lips, and continues warily. “And I know I'm not good at showin' it, but you make me wanna try. And I know ya might wanna leave. I don’t wanna stop ya. But I’m a selfish man when it comes to you. I like bein' with you.”

Your lower lip wobbles and your heart feels torn open to see Joel bare his soul to you, when to so many he's a tall stubborn oak. You let out a shaky breath as he continues.

“This thing between us, what I feel for you, it’s new. And I’m just a fool tryin’ to make sense of it all. I don’t know if you feel the same way,”

Your body slowly crawls into his lap, and you weakly cup his cheeks, stubble scratching at your soft palms. Losing yourself in his eyes, in his broken face, admiring all the little details up close. He’s torn, torn between loving you and letting you live.

You plant a chaste kiss on his parted lips and taste him slowly as the two of you melt together again. You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight, legs curled up in his lap as he holds you back just as tight. Your fingers weave helplessly into his longer curls. He’s so familiar, warm, gentle with you. He cares about you. He finally said it. 

After a moment, you find your voice. 

“If you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did.” It’s more whimpery than you had hoped, but it makes Joel hold you closer, yet with such delicacy. Like he doesn’t want you to shatter from his own devices.

Your face buries into his neck, smelling distant cologne and cigarettes. His large hand cradles the back of your head, keeping you with him, letting your racing heartbeats settle together. 

“I’ll never hurt you, angel.” It’s laced with promise. You hope it’s true. 

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller

[fangirlfrom-hell]

Exciting ||Jay Halstead x Daughter and reader

Jay has to take his daughter to work for the first time and he’s not excited about it.

For the one that voted Jay x daughter on the poll (this is not a Christmas story though)

Jay wasn’t comfortable with the idea of taking his 4 years old daughter to work, but seemed like luck was not on his side. The girl was on vacation, Y/N was on a work trip, the nanny got sick, Will was on shift and the little girl’s grandparent’s couldn’t take care of her all day long, so he had no choice. He called Voight, who with his raspy voice and without any problem said “Bring her.”

He sighed, “Ok, baby girl. You are coming to work with me today” He notified his little daughter who was sitting with her short legs hanging from the couch.

“To the police station?” Her eyes were shining bright out of excitement.

“Yea”, her dad chuckled. “Mommy will pick you up later, when she comes back home from her trip, ok?”

“Okay. I am excited!” Excited was the last feeling she learned in school and from then on she would use it for everything.

“I am excited too”, he lied, he was more nervous than anything. “Go get your backpack”, he ordered and when she was gone he muttered to himself, “I’m already running late”

It wasn’t common to take one’s son or daughter to the bullpen, but is wasn’t so strange either. Voight and Al had done it in the past with their kids; Burgess and Adam had done it with Malayla too, even Kevin had to take his little sister from time to time. This was the family Hank talked about.

Jay went upstairs with a small pink and shinny backpack with unicorn form on his arm, making a funny contrast with the gun hanging from his hips.

“Where’s the baby girl?” Adam said when he saw his friend arriving alone.

“Platt stole her from me”, he answered. He would have arrived even later if he had waited for Trudy to give her back to him. Kim smiled at the image.

“We haven’t seen her in a while”, Al peeked his head from his hidden desk to participate in the conversation, “A bit of her cheerfulness will do good to this place”

“Well, she is, and I’m quoting, “very excited” to see you all”, the proud dad smirked.

But as much excited as she was, the baby Halstead was very shy to even say good morning to them. As soon as Trudy Platt carried her upstairs, the girl ran towards her father as fast as she could.

“Why are you crying?” Jay asked in a very low voice, while sitting her on his lap.

But the one answering the question was Platt, “She started to worry when she noticed you weren’t around downstairs and then silently started crying”

Ashamed, the little Halstead girl hugged her dad’s neck and buried her face on his shoulder. A chorous of “aw” was heard around. This wasn’t what she expected, visiting the police station didn’t make her feel excited after all.

“It’s alright”, Jay kept whispering into her ear. It was only after a few minutes later that she calmed down, but even when she was acting as if nothing had happened, she was still embarrased.

Al passed by from the coffee room to his desk and handed a coockie to the girl. She hesitated on accepting it, she first turned to her dad who nodded in approval and she stretched her tiny arm to take it.

“Precauted girl. Good”, Olinsky smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Why don’t you take your colors and get to work in your coloring book, hm?” Jay said more like an order as he put her down. He couldn’t really advance in his work if she was there right beside him.

They walked to an unoccupied desk right infront of Adam. The girl climbed the chair as her dad took her belongings out of the unicorn backpack, “There you go. I’ll be right there if you need me. Remember to…”

“…be quiet, shhh” his daughter completed.

She stayed there for a while, coloring different pages. The detectives, specially Kim, would praise her artistic work whenever they had to walk by her side. She liked Kim, that woman was funny, but she couldn’t really take her eyes off of the man who had gave her the cookie: Alvin Olinsky, but he was too busy to noticed.

“Daddy”, she silently stood up an whispered, trying not to distract the people around, “I don’t want to color anymore. I want to draw”

“Uh, let me check if I have something for you to—“

“I have some white sheets in here”, Hailey opened a drawer and handed a bunch to the Halstead girl. She liked Hailey too, she had a bright smile.

“How do you say?” Her father encouraged her before going back to her place.

“Thank you, Hailssss”

She was immersed in her own world, drawing, coloring and cutting. She stood up to get closer to Adam and touched his leg to call his attention.

“How do you write ‘I love you’?” She asked the detective.

“Oh!” He took a notebook and a pen, “Very easy, let me just show you”

Jay looked up to witness the scene, altough he couldn’t hear any word they were exchanching, “Hey, sweetie”, he called out, “Let Ruz work, ok?”

“No big deal” His collegue said handing her the sheet.

A few minutes later, the little girl stood up once more to go with her father. She stretched her hand to hand him a very colorful circle of paper.

“Wow! Is this for me?” Jay exxagerated his emotion, and then melted when he read the phrase ‘I love you’ followed by a crooked heart.

With excitement, she explained it was a cup holder: “Yea, you can put your mug there”. Following orders from such a smooth voice, Jay placed his mug over the gift.

“Just what I needed” He kissed her head. When she withdrew of his side, Jay immediatly took the paper with the witten phrase and placed it in a spot where he was able to see it all the time.

Before going back to sit on her chair, the girl passed by Al’s desk and stood next to him staring, until he finally noticed.

She took him by surprise, a cute surprise, “Hey, you scared me!” That made her laugh.

“What do you like the most?” The kid asked wothout any other introduction, “Ducks or unicorns?”

Detective Olinsky took his time to answer the question. He observed that Halstead’s daughter was wearing a T-shirt full of unicorns, her pink shinny backback also had the shape of a unicorn, so he went by that, thinking it would be the correct answer.

“Unicorns, I love unicorns”

But she didn’t had the reaction he expected, instead she sadenned, “Oh! I was going to draw a duck for you”

Being in a space close to Olinsky, and paying attention to what his daughter was doing all the time, Jay listened and couldn’t help to smile to the reaction of his parter.

“Oh, well, I love ducks too!” Alvin tried to amend his error.

“A duck, then?”

“Yea, a duck!”

And she moved her tiny legs as fast as she could. Both detectives shared a look and laughed.

It didn’t pass a lot of time when the girl was next to Olinsky’s chair again, but this time he noticed. Without speaking, she handed to him the drawing of a duck happily swimming in a lake.

“What? Is this for me?” She nodded. There was something peaceful in his voice that she liked. “Thank you very much! I really love it. What’s this?” He pointed to a brown circle tha was close to the animal. The answer make him smile showing his teeth.

“A cookie”

“Well, this masterpiece deserves to be in a special place” The detective took a bit of tape and pasted the drawing where it could be seen by everyone.

Little Halstead ran to his father to tell him what just had happened.

“That’s not fair!” Adam teased her later on the day. “I want my own drawing too! I showed you how to write that phrase, you gotta remember that!”

“It will have to be another day”, Jay intervened. “Time to pick everything up, your mom’s on her way to pick you up”

“Mommy’s back?” She asked with the same bright eyes she had when realizing she was going to the police station.

“Yeah!” Her dad smirked.

“I am excited!” She stated while putting her stuff back into the backpack.

“Say goodbye, time to go. Mommy’s downstairs”

She waved her little hand to everybody in the bullpen, “Bye bye”. She even peeked her head into Voight’s office, “Goodbye, Serge”

“You are leaving already? Goodbye, little one” Hank said in a very friendly tone, “Come back soon, whenever you want”

She laughed at the idea, “I will”

It was a bit hard for her to walk down the stairs. “Do you need help?” Jay asked with his arms opened to carry her and she jumped to him.

As soon as she spotted Y/N at the desk with Trudy she yelled at her. Jay put her down on the floor when the stairs were over and his baby ran towards her mom, who picked her up in a tight hug.

“Mommy!”

“Ugh, how much I missed you” Y/N said covering their daughter in kisses.

“Me too!”

“Did the detectives threated you good?” Trudy asked, “How was your day at daddy’s work, hm?”

Wothout hesitating and with a lot of emotion, the girl answered “Oh! It was exciting!”

#jay halstead #one chicago #chicago pd #jay halstead x daughter #halstead daughter #jay halstead fic #kim burgess #adam ruzek #hank voight #alvin olinsky #hailey upton #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x wife reader #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x reader!

[bunnylove1]

.•Velvette HC!•.

•.~Velvette x model!reader

•.~WARNINGS: smut! Velvette being velvette! Fluff! Sickness

•.~Love vel she’s so perfect and she’s mother

•Velvette definitely favourites you over all the other models

•She’ll even say it straight up “What your my favourite out of all these snooze bags”

•She lets you help her pick the fabrics for her next line 

•Definitely asks you if you wanna get coffee before work 

•Same with the coffee thing she will definitely text you “What do you want? Your normal or somethin new”

•Makes you stay late because she’s “Not done for the night” but really wants to hang out with you more 

•Let’s you do her hair and make up and feel lucky this girl doesn’t let anyone do her hair nor even touch it 

•Nicknames: “Baby cakes”, “Baby”, “Princess”, “Sweetie”, “Peach”, “Sweet cake”, “My fashion baby”, “My little girl”, “Doll”

•Her contact name for you in her phone is “Model baby”, why your her model and her baby so 

•Definitely makes you go everywhere with her

•NEVER EVER lets you around Val maybe Vox but vals to touchy and no one’s allowed to touch her baby

•She finds the way you let her move you around like a doll cute and adorable 

•She’s definitely doesn’t mind letting you be a little bit more ruff with her BUT she prefers to dom you 

•She likes feeling in power of you, she likes making you feel small and owned by her 

•SHE GOES HEAVY ON THE HICKEYS “Why’s everyone staring at you?” “Idk velvette maybe cause im a human fuckin grape!” “Oh well not my problem huh baby”

•Velvette is definitely into bdsm, she likes tying you up, overstimulating you anything really 

•Same with leaving marks she’ll tie the rope tight enough to leave rope marks, she finds them hot

•Definitely into using toys on you especially if your tied up

•She likes you to wear shiny leather clothes finds it super hot “damn did I make those, fuck baby you look hot” she definitely spins you around and bites her lip

•She’s that woman that destroys you until your makeups ruined your voice is no longer there you can’t even think straight and say things like “What baby did mommy fuck you dumb huh” 

•Calls herself mommy, and totally has a mommy/mistress kink

•Likes to sit you on her lap at meetings she’ll look the people staring at you guys and just go “What?” In her bratty tone 

•She finds it funny when you boss around people, she likes the way you stick your index finger out and put and hand on your hip and yell at whoever fucked something up 

•She’s a waist mover if your in her way of something she’ll grab your waist and move you over “Sorry baby you were in the way” 

•Quick kisses in the modelling room, I can totally see her sowing the dress on you and just casually give you kisses 

•Likes when you leave lip stick marks on her especially black lipstick marks 

•Post small little appreciation things of you on her social media 

•Your the only model she posts on her media 

Caption would be like “Best model there tonight” or “Stunning girl breaks the media again” always praises you in the posts 

•Dates with her are always fun, amusement park dates definitely to loo loo land, but she also just likes to watch movies at home and bake cupcakes or something 

•She LOVES coming home seeing you in her clothes all snuggled up in your guys bed she just loves seeing you look all fluffy and adorable “Awwwww sweet cakes look at you, so adorable”

•Velvette knows how to take care of you when your sick she makes you homemade soup and brings you water and medicine, she holds your hair back while you throw up and definitely puts your head on her chest after, your her best model and girlfriend she has to take care of you “Shhh it’s okay baby cakes I’m here don’t worry”

•She feels lost when your not there at the modelling studio your the only thing keeping her from snapping at the other girls 

•Makes you playlist its titled “Perfect princess” your perfect to her no matter what you do 

•She’s a thigh girl, likes seeing you in thigh highs makes your thighs look so juicy and delicious she could just eat you up “Ugh baby I love your look today, The thighs look delicious too”

•.~AND WERE DONE she’s finally done, I love velvette down on my knees for her 

Also 

Credit to my edited!: @chiiyuzz thank you for helping me edit so many of my things!

#velvette fanart #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin art #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #velvette icons #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #staticmoth #vox #the vees #hellaverse #hazbin #velvette headcanons #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette x you

[strniohoeee]

Voracious

Pairings: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: Matt has this weird obsession with being a predator and Y/N being a prey, but will she fall for it….

Warnings⚠️: ERMMM…..this is juicy smut so if you’re a child go to bed thank youuuuu. There’s spit, manhandling, use of the word slut, face smacking, throat grabbing, feral Matt….i feel like that’s it but bitch this was DIRTY😏

Song of the chapter: Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact⚠️

I want to hold you close

Soft breasts, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear

I want to fucking tear you apart

Matt had this weird obsession with wanting to chase me around a wooded area like I was his prey. At first I humored him a little bit, laughing at this crazy idea, but when it wouldnt stop, and he started to constantly bring it up I got concerned.

“Matt no, I’m scared of the woods, and I do not want you chasing me” I told him

“Come on babe. It will be so much fun, I chase after you while you’re scared and aroused” he said back

“Why the fuck would I be turned on by this” I asked him

“Oh I didn’t tell you? Well see I’m the predator and youre the prey, and if I catch you I get to fuck you how I want” he responded. This sent a shiver down my spine, and weirdly I was turned on, but still very very scared.

This conversation happened about two months ago, and suddenly stopped, so I figured his little fantasy was over.

Matt and I had flown to Boston to visit his parents, and Nick and Chris had already been there for a week at this point.

Two days after being in Boston, Matt told me he had a surprise for me. He wanted to take me on a little vacation to get away. Of course I agreed because a vacation by ourselves was what we Needed.

I didn’t ask many questions, but once I started to realize we left a busy city and entered wooded areas I started to feel uneasy.

“Where are we going Matt?’’ I asked looking over at him

“It’s a surprise baby” he said looking over at me and smiling

“I’m getting a little nervous as there is no outside life here” I told him shifting in my seat

“Baby don’t worry okay” he said to me grabbing my hand

About 30 minutes later, and we had arrived to a cabin in the middle of the fucking woods.

“Matt what the fuck is this?’’ I asked in fear

“A cute cabin get away” he said nonchalantly

“No this is frightening” I said grabbing my bag, and walking to the front door

“Oh come on it’s literally so cute here” he said rolling his eyes

“Yeah maybe to a serial killer but not me” I told him as he opened the door and we walked in

“Y/N just enjoy this please” he said groaning

“But im scared” I said walking into the living room

“Oh my god! Do you hear that??” He asked me

“HEAR WHAT” I said jumping

“Absolute fucking silence” He said smuggly

“Oh you dick! You scared the shit out of me” I said smacking him lightly on the arm

“All that peaceful silence, that will soon be broken when I fuck the shit out of you” he said pulling me in to kiss me

“Matt you’re filthy” I said kissing him back

“Only for you” he responded

Matt and I had made dinner laughing and talking the whole time, and after we ate we sat on the couch for a while laughing some more. And we both decided to shower. The whole shower Matt was teasing me, but wouldn’t do a single thing and it was making me a little bit annoyed

Once we hopped out the shower and changed I had laid in the bed and Matt was out in the living room doing god knows what.

“Babyyyy I have a surprise,” he said, calling from the living room.

“Oh yeah what is it” I asked him

He walked into the bedroom and grabbed me

“Alright close your eyes and follow me” he said, and I shut my eyes letting him guide me

All of a sudden I felt a silk material wrap around my eyes

“Matt what’s going on” I asked him confused

“Shhh you’ll see” he said while letting his fingers brush against my back

“You’ve been such a good girl for me lately. Letting me tease you, and not asking for more” he said in my ear, sending chills down my spine

“I want to reward you for that, my good good girl deserves a reward doesn’t she?” He asked smacking my ass and then gripping it

“Oh my god…..” I let out immediately getting turned on

“Answer me baby” he said grabbing my waist and feeling up on me

“Yes Matt. I deserve it” I said sighing and throwing my head back a little bit

“I will give you exactly what you want, but first we play it my way” He said walking around to the front of me

“Umm okay” I said meekly

“You’re going to go outside and run. I’ll give you a 10 second head start, but if I catch you, which I will. I get to fuck you so hard you’re a weeping mess” he said

“Matt no! I’m not doing this” I said sternly

“No?? Oh no no baby. We’re not negotiating this” he said laughing

“How bad are you yearning to be fucked like a good slut” he asked me

“Matt…..” i told him in a warning like way

“Answer the fucking question” he said bluntly

“No” I told him

“If I put my hands down your pants right now you’re telling me you won’t be dripping for me?” He asked

“Can’t you fuck me normally” I asked him

“No I can not. So you’ll be listening to me” he barked at me

“Fine Matt let’s get this going. I want to be fucked already” I told him getting annoyed. He hummed in approval

He unlocked the front door and opened it, and then came over to me removing the cover from my eyes, and immediately I booked it out the front door.

I ran so fast into the wooded area hiding behind a big tree that I knew he hadn’t seen.

10 seconds later I hear his loud voice

“You better find a better spot because you’re making this too easy” he yelled

Slowly I started to walk deeper into the woods taking zig zag patterns. However I was starting to get more and more worried as it was really dark, and I could no longer see the house

“Oh Y/N” Matt said in a sing-song way that sent shivers down my spine. I heard him step on a branch, so I ran away from him again trying to keep my breathing steady. But it was becoming harder, as I was genuinely getting scared

As I was backing towards a tree I stepped on a twig, and the sound of it was enough to echo throughout the trees

“I think i got you” I heard Matt yell, but I couldn’t tell from what direction, and then it got really really quiet

I wanted to give up, and yell out to him because I was getting really really scared now. Just as I went to spin around the tree there stood Matt

“BOO” he said, and I jumped back screaming

“What’s the matter Y/N? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost” He said and immediately grabbed me, throwing me over his shoulder

“MATTTTT STOPPP MATT” I started to yell

He smacked my ass to get me to keep silent as he walked us through the woods back to the house. Once we got back to the house he got us through the front door and slammed it shut. Walking us to the living room and dropping me to the floor

“I got my pretty girl now, didn’t I?” He asked with a scary look in his eye

“What are you going to do with me” I asked looking up at him

“Whatever I want to do, and you’re going to take it” he said

“Yes sir” I said still looking up at him

“Get on your knees now” he said, and I immediately got on my knees, he removed his shirt, and started to unbuckle his belt

“You’re gonna suck my cock like the dirty little whore you are” he said as he started to pull his pants down

“Yes whatever you want I’ll do” I said looking up at him from my lashes

“Open your mouth” he said, and when I did he leaned down a bit and spit into my mouth. “Swallow” he said and I did

“Good girl” he said petting my face, and then lightly smacking me

When he backed away he started to jerk himself off, and nodded his head for me to come closer. He spit down onto his own cock and continued to jerk himself off

“Come on baby use that pretty mouth of yours” he said, and with that I grabbed his dick putting it into my mouth, and immediately deep throating him

“Fuckkkkk” he said rolling his head back

I was bobbing my head up and down, and when I got to the tip I would suck extra hard. Matt was whimpering and moaning.

“Yeah just like that you’re doing so good” he told me as he grabbed the back of my head. I gagged a few times and the vibrations made Matt moan. That sound alone was making me so fucking wet.

Suddenly he pulled me off him. Kicking his pants off and roughly grabbing me. He lifted me up, and immediately pulled my shirt off of me, and then moved us over to the coffee table. He pushed me down to kneel infront of it, and then he kneeled behind me

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name” he said

“Please Matt, I need this” I said looking back at him. He pulled me in by my throat into a disgusting, sloppy, needy make out

He pushed me over the coffee table, sending everything falling to the floor. And immediately pulled my underwear down. Smacking my ass and then massaging it

“Mmm so fucking wet for me” he said looking at my glistening cunt, and I just moaned like a bitch in heat

“Please Matt I need you” I told him

He spread my legs a little further apart, and started to massage my clit rubbing my arousal everywhere

“Fuck MATT” I said from the sudden pleasure

He put his middle finger and his finger finger in his mouth, and then immediately inserted them into my pussy

“Oh my god” I said, shuddering. He started to finger me at a downwards motion towards the ground, and my legs started to shake

“Your pussy just takes any part of me so well” he said as I heard his fingers slide back into me at an ungodly paste

“Matt Matt I’m going to cum” I told him, and I wish I never did because he ripped his fingers out of me

“Not on my fingers baby” he said smacking my ass again

He leaned down towards my pussy and spat. This made me gasp and squirm. Slowly he ran his dick up and down spreading my arousal, and his spit everywhere

“Gonna take it like a good girl” he said before sliding into me

“Oh my god” I said with my back arching back like a cat

“Fuck” he sighs lightly slowly rocking into me. Allowing me to adjust to his size.

Within a minute Matt started to pound into me ruthlessly. Grabbing my arms back allowing my back to arch as he pound into me

“Matt fuck matt matt” I said clawing at his arms

“Shut up, and take it” he said breathing heavily

Continuing to pound into me non stop. He was drilling the fuck outta me, and all I could do was cry out like a bitch

“You’re so good to me baby” He said letting my arms go allowing me to lean over the table again

This time he grabbed my hips, and started to thrust into me harder and deeper

“Oh godddddd” I pounded almost crying out

Matt was above me grunting and moaning as his sweat started to drip down on me.

“Fuck Matt I’m so fucking close” I said gripping the wooden table. I’m sure there will be marks in it from how hard I was holding onto it

“Me too baby” he said, and immediately started to slam into me. Breathing extra hard than before. And the wooden table was digging into me in such a deliciously painful way

“MATTTT IM CUMMINGGG” I screamed out arching my back, and clenching down onto his cock shaking and trembling as I came all over his cock. His name falling from my mouth like a mantra. I leaned against the table limp and exhausted and in total bliss at the crazy orgasm I just had

Matt’s thrust be came deep and slow, and within three more thrust he was cumming deep inside me holding us together

“Fuck fuck fuck Y/N” he was moaning while slightly convulsing as his lowe abdomen contracted

After we caught our breath he pulled out allowing his cum and my cum to drop down onto his cock and lower stomach

“Fuck Matt. That was so fucking good” I said as he helped me off the floor, my knees immediately feeling like jello

“You’re so fucking good to me” he said kissing me while holding my chin

“Whatever weird ass fantasies you have please just tell me, because if it ends like this? I want more of it” I told him

He smirked at me and nodded his head biting his lip

“Lets get cleaned up baby” he said as we both walked to the bathroom to take a second shower of the night.

The night ended in us immediately knocking out after our shower because of how physically drained we were.

The End

Ouuuu hope you guys my lil cabin in the woods imagine. I have 8 more stories to write 🤭🤭 so let me stfu and get to typing. Once those are done I’ll probably open my requests up again💋

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #Spotify

[sukunarii]

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader Warning: (Spoiler from chapter 216!)

Synopsis: (Name) was kidnapped by Yorozu

A/N: It's been a while oops, but I was suddenly inspired to write this fanfic after rereading all the Sukuna scenes. Everything that Sukuna has done lately in the manga and Shibuya in anime coming soon too, no words can express how happy I am 😍😍

“Oh dear, you’ve switched skins? Why don’t you change your face back?”

Sukuna was unamused and ignored her, “Yorozu, where is (Name)?”

“How cruel Sukuna, you’re finally reunited with your future wife after a thousand years and you’re asking about another girl?”, Yorozu taunts back but clearly bitter by the King of Curses’s reaction.

Sukuna was starting to grow impatient, he has no interest in Yorozu’s antics and without a warning, he attacks Yorozu. With his incredible speed, he appears right before her in a split second and lands a solid kick on her torso which sends her flying backwards but she manages to stay on her feet.

“What do you want, Yorozu”, he calls out to her.

Yorozu appears barely affected by the kick and sticks her tongue out, “Bleh, You know what I want. I want to be the one who kills you and I want you to be the one who kills me. This is true love. And if you’re alive after I win, you will let me be your wife.”

“Whatever you want,” Sukuna says, “If I lose that means I am dead and didn’t protect (Name). If that happens it doesn’t matter what you do with a corpse.”

“I heard you say it!” Yorozu’s lips twitches up in an evil smile, “I’ll be your true wife, you will marry me then I will dispose of that annoying girl, maybe cut her up bit by bit and make her unrecognizable later.”

“Later? Do you really think you’ll still be around?”, Sukuna says, rage clearly in his eyes. No one talks about his (Name) like this, especially not to his face. But the King of Curses keeps his composure and despite his anger, a smirk finds its way on his face. Sukuna bends down and makes the hand sign of a dog “Divine dog” he summons.

From the shadows, the shape of multiple dogs takes form and charges towards Yorozu. Yorozu dodges them and tries to counterattack Sukuna but her attack fails to reach him.

“What is this?” Yorozu shouts with anger, “This isn’t your cursed technique! You think you can beat me without Malevolent Shrine?”

“No I won’t use that. I won’t need it,” Sukuna replies.

Yorozu was pissed, “Fine. I will give you (Name).”

Yorozu effortlessly jumps up to the top of a light pole to distance herself from Sukuna. She pulls out a cube from her robe and makes the hand signs to unseal it. Suddenly the cube emits a shadow and (Name) appears. Yorozu holds (Name) by her neck, hanging her mid air and her feet frantically kicks trying to get herself free, “Still not going to use Shrine?”, Yorozu calls out to Sukuna while her grip on (Name)’s neck tightens.

In a quick motion, Sukuna lunges towards Yorozu and punches her but Yorozu jumps off from the light pole while hands still gripping (Name). However, she notices that Sukuna has already summoned Round Deer which is waiting to attack Yorozu from the ground. Swiftly she let’s go of (Name), and the girl screams as she falls. Yorozu sends a wave of attack, aiming it to where (Name) will land to ensure that the girl will be finished.

(Name) closes her eyes, readying herself for the fall but instead, she falls into a warm and familiar embrace.

“(Name), I’m sorry I was late,” Sukuna says.

(Name) opens her eyes to see that she is safe in Sukuna’s arms. However, it seems that the last attack Yorozu sent hit Sukuna as there’s a deep wound on his shoulder, he used himself to shield (Name). But Sukuna was not concerned by it at all.

“You have a cut on your beautiful face,” he says while looking at (Name) and he passes his hands over the cut and uses reverse curse technique to easily heal it up.

“Sukuna, I’m sorry I was careless,” (Name) starts.

“Shhh,” Sukuna shushes her, “Let’s go home.”

Behind them, Yorozu interrupts the couple, clearly jealous, “Where do you think you’re going Sukuna? This fight isn’t over yet. I am going to be your wife, I am going to be the one who will show you what love is. Who is she to you anyways?”

Sukuna doesn’t bother turning back to look at Yorozu. His eyes are fixed on (Name) in his arms, “She is my queen.”

“Haa?”, Yorozu calls out, pissed, “I’m gonna fucking kill her then kill you, I won't allow any mistresses in this marriage,” Yorozu shouts as she charges at them.

Sukuna doesn't seem to care. His attention is already removed from Yorozu. With (Name) still his arms, she is the only person in his world. He has no interest in giving any more of his time to Yorozu.

Sukuna, mumbles, “With this treasure, I summon…”

Mahoraga appears from the shadows and towers in front of Yorozu. "You're gonna use this to finish me off? How dare you Sukuna!" Yorozu shouts at him as she engages in battle with the Shikigami but she is no match for Mahoraga's powers. She screams and pleads while getting defeated by Mahoraga but it all fell to deaf ears.

(Name) still in Sukuna's arms, quietly says “You don't have to carry me Sukuna, I can still walk.”

“My queen should rest,” Sukuna replies and gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, “I’m never letting you go.”

Being the King of Curses, Sukuna has attracted a lot of admirers. But he was indifferent to all of them. The only person he cares about other than himself is (Name), his queen.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #im a little rusty ngl