#Buck naked you say?
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@winniemaywebber here’s the quote from the book + another section for context because it wouldn’t fit in one reply :)
— — — — —
In the Air Force, a flyer wanted to be "hot." He wanted to be able to handle his liquor and his women. When he got his picture taken, he wanted to look like a rock," short for "hot rock." When a rock went into the air and put on his radio headset, the stiff top of his hat kept his headset from fitting close to his ears. So out came the stiff wire circular grommet.
It never went back in, and the hat with the "hundred mission crush" was born. The more disreputable the hat, the better for the rock.
…
Back at the hotel I went into the bathroom. Buck naked, I stood before the mirror. I put the hat on. I tried it at several angles, over one eye and then the other. I pushed it back, with just the appropriate carelessness.
"Crosby," I told myself, "you are a rock."
Harry Crosby in his memoir, A Wing and a Prayer
#EDIT I ADDED A PICTURE OF CROSBY#I literally screamed when this scene came on like actually the face they included it had my dying#harry crosby#mota#part 6#Harry Crosby is a dork#but we love him anyway#Buck naked you say?#I feel like there’s a joke to be made there about Buck/Bucky lol#mota spoilers#masters of the air#mota musings#a wing and a prayer#quotes
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i think gar n raven arent huge on pda, like sure they'll hold hands or chastely cuddle up on the couch during movie night, etc etc, but you won't catch them kissing around others, other than maybe a peck on the cheek.
but they DO have the most intense ... well... tension of all time. they make EYE CONTACT feel like you just witnessed something SCANDALOUS. they can just be in the same ROOM and make everyone feel like they just walked in on something indecent. these bitches are over here having full on declarations without saying a single word out loud.
#bbrae#beast boy#raven#gar logan#teen titans#dc comics#dcu#is it preferable to dick and kory who you might just accidentally walk in on full buck naked bc they go at it like bunnies?#hard to say tbh! both are extremely uncomfortable!
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simon and könig being unable to stop bickering for a second, even when they’re balls deep inside of you. they’ve got you in an Eiffel Tower, könig’s cock filling your glossy pussy while simon stuffs your mouth. it took ages of convincing for them to even consider this position, but eventually they decided to put their discrepancies aside for the sake of you, their precious, spoiled little thing. it didn’t last very long though…
“jackhammer much, mate? you’ve got her choking on me over here.” simon points out, his heavy hand stroking your hair soothingly. könig’s using your hips as leverage, bucking into you at a rabid pace, each of his thrusts lurching your body forward and forcing you to take more of simon’s dick down your poor throat. “what happened to treatin’ the princess with care?”
“it’s okay, she likes it. isn’t that right, maus?”
your cheeks warm up as you hum around simon’s dick noncommittally. nothing gets passed the l.t though, and suddenly he’s gripping you by your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock.
“wait, you let him fuck your face?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended.
you wipe the line of spit that trails from your swollen lips all the way to his still hard dick, hovering just out of reach. you huff. “he’s more sadistic than you…” you say sheepishly in response, voice staccato from könig’s thrusts.
“you tellin’ me i’m the soft sex guy? the aftercare fuck?”
“‘s alright, mate.” könig reaches over your naked body to pat his comrade on the shoulder. “youve got boyfriend dick. happens to the best of us.”
#sum slight idk i might love them#simon x reader x könig#konig cod#konig x reader#konig call of duty#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#könig smut#könig x reader#konig smut#konig x you#könig cod#bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
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Higuruma Hiromi x reader<3 (nsfw)
hiromi likes girls (his gf) who are a little (very) mean to him. CANON I ASKED GEGE.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Higuruma stands in the doorway of your bedroom, Hes been staring at you for a good while now, even before you noticed.
Looking at how your little dress hugs your pretty body.
you wave a hand infront of his face.
“whats up with you today…freak,” you say and laugh at him, the corner of his mouth tugs a little before going back to his usual, blank face.
“i cant look at whats mine? hm?” he says smoothly and plays with a strand of your hair.
“urgh,” you roll your eyes and turn away from him. You know he loves it, when you act like a little spoiled princess.
he grabs your arm and pull you back to him softly. He looks into your eyes again, something else than adoration behind them this time.
“hirom-“
“i thought about what you said,”
huh?
you look at him in question.
He smirks a little before speaking, “you know….about my nose,”
A couple days ago he’d told you how he used to hate his nose when he was younger. You’d frowned and taken his face in your pretty manicured hands and told him it was one of your favorite things about his appearance. It had made his heart swell in his chest, and he’d hugged you so tight right after telling you to ‘shut up and stop lying’
And he’d thought about it ever since, couldnt get it out of his head. And now he knew why.
He takes your jaw in his huge hand and brings your face up to look at him,
“if you like my nose so much, why dont you sit on it princess?” he tells you, looking into your eyes and pulling you closer by your waist.
Your eyes widen, and you blush while trying to push him away.
“stop saying things like that,” you look away from his eyes and he frowns.
“look at me baby,”
You reluctantly look at him again, the way he looks at you hungrily makes you ache.
“you telling me you dont want to?” He whispers to you, and you know he would drop it as soon as you say the word.
But you stay silent, looking away from him again. And he knows youre too shy to say it. so innocent. He wants to make you cry and shake on top of him.
He sighs and goes to pull away from you, but before he can get too far you grab him by the collar, nodding your head.
“yeah?” he asks. you nod again.
he smiles widely at you, before licking his lips and speaking,
“take this off,” he says as he plays with the hem of your dress.
His eyes scan over your body while you undress, his mouth watering. And when you finally stand infront of him, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, only wearing your panties, He picks you up by your thighs suddenly, And you yelp in surprise. He takes you to the bed, laying down with you now sitting on his chest.
You stare at eachother for a while before he speaks again,
“come on….wanna drown in your little pussy,”
Hes so nasty.
“dont worry you will, im gonna shut you up for once,” you say with a look of distaste, he knows your body is betraying you, with how big the wet spot on your panties has gotten.
you sit up on your knees, sliding down your underwear slowly, teasing him.
“mmm there she is,” he groans when he sees your pussy, slick with your arousal.
“youre so annoying,”
“sit on my face baby,”
you huff and sit down again on his chest, grinding your naked pussy on him. He groans loudly.
“fuck….you want me to beg? is that it sweetheart? hm?”
He breathes heavily, a desperate look on his face, and his hips buck behind you, trying to relieve himself a little.
You nod and wait for him, and when he opens his mouth to speak, reaching out to touch your waist, you slap his hand away.
“no touching,” you say with a serious face.
he almost cries. “evil…evil little girl,” fuck why wont you just let him have you, but he knows that you know he loves this. loves his pretty girlfriend being mean to him.
you take pity on him, you tell yourself, when you sit up on your knees, moving so that your pussy is hovering over his face. But really you know you cant wait anymore, you need to ride his handsome face.
“fuck yes…please baby, sit,” He groans under you.
you place yourself right on his mouth, his nose grazing your clit. He moans loudly into you, his hand going to rub himself so he doesnt loose his mind.
He rubs his face into you, licking and sucking on your cunt. You mewl and cry over him and he looks up at you, Smirking into your pussy.
You grab his hair then, grinding yourself down on him, riding his nose.
He babbles under you, probably filthy things. But his mouth is full, so all you hear is his muffled voice speaking into your soaked pussy.
He loves when you use him like this, and the way you look on top of him, fucking his face, its too much and not enough at the same time.
“fuck…use me princess,” He manages to get out in between eating you “cum on my face…”
You whine.
“fuck….” You shake and cry over him, cumming all over his drooling mouth. He keeps licking at you, trying to get every drop of cum. He groans, pulling away from you.
He looks so fucked out, his whole face is wet and his hair is messy, a dopey smile on his face.
You almost pass out, falling off him and onto the bed. He smiles and goes to lay on top of you, cradling your face in his hands.
“i need to change my boxers,” he says.
“of course you do,”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
IDK IF I LIKE THIS UM. anyways i hope u guys like it atleast >_<
i havent gotten to his intruduction in the manga yet i know nothing about this man except for that hes a lawyer and hes sexy
#hiromi higuruma#hiromi jjk#hiromi higuruma x reader#higuruma x reader#jjk higuruma#higuruma smut#higuruma hiromi x reader#LET ME FUCK PLEASE.
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Three guys were sitting in a biker bar. A man came in, already drunk, sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. The man looked around and saw the 3 men sitting at a corner table.
He got up, staggered to the table, leaned over, looked the biggest one in the face and said, "I went by your grandma's house and I saw her in the hallway, buck naked. Man, she is fine!" The biker looked at him and didn't say a word. His buddies were confused,because he was a bad ass, and would fight at he drop of a hat. The drunk leaned on the table again and said, "I got it on with your grandma and she is good, the best I ever had!" The biker still said nothing. His buddies were starting to get mad. The drunk leaned on the table again and said, "I'll tell you something else boy, your grandma liked it!" The biker stood up, took the drunk by the shoulder and said, "Damn it, Grandpa, you're drunk! Go home!"
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cw: sub! megumi, dom! gn! reader, overstimulation, handjobs (as always), dacryphilia, slight sadism in reader, slight masochism in megumi? teasing, "good boy" used once.
wc: 1.3k
a/n: i have been recently hating my writing style guys what do I do </3 also I did this instead of hw so tonight is gonna suck.
“waitwaitwaitwait!” megumi mumbles into your neck for the third time this night. you feel another round of tears drip onto your collarbone, and shaky hands grip your t-shirt in a plea. he was naked — his pale skin seeming to flush a shade of red, and his spine was curved as he caved in over himself.
your thumb circles around the tip, teasing it until you watch another glob of precum bead at his slit. you crane your neck to look at him, using your free hand to tilt his chin up to press a small kiss to his lips. “doing so good,” you mumble into his mouth, and he lets out a broken sob, “staying still and taking it. we don’t need any rope today.”
his whole body feels to be on fire, and with every stroke of your hand, a whole new wave of overstimulation forces another shiver. the boy's mouth hangs open, lip glistening from a mix of saliva from your mouth and tears. “you’re so mean to me."
“poor thing,” you coo, knowing that you aren't going to do anything about his complaint. instead, you use your thumb to brush away some tears. he sniffles at you, nodding his head to hopefully coax some more praise. but your mind travels back to your movements, your wrists twisting back and forth as you focus on the red tip. “but you look so cute like this, i can’t help it, y’know that.”
his head falls back onto your shoulder, and immediately, he plants kisses on your neck, nibbling at the skin to try and distract himself. the top of his dark hair was matted with sweat, but the tips of it tickled your collarbone. you use your thumb to rub at his cheek as you continue to stroke him off, ignoring his sporadic jerks of pain. “can you cum again? just one more time, for me?”
the noise megumi lets out is meek, pathetic even, and he shakes his head into your chest. he has begun to hiccup from the intensity of his sobs, and his hand hasn't moved from gripping fiercely at your shirt. "last one," he breathes, rubbing his nose into your skin, "p-promise its the last one!"
you grab his face again with one hand and begin to pepper it with kisses, successfully wiping away more tears as he whines with shut eyes. his eyelashes are globbed together, and when he opens them again, he narrows them at you, slightly peeved and scared at your lack of response. "promise," he manages to get out before he bites his lip from you rubbing your pointer finger over his slit.
"fine, fine, I promise," you concede, and your hand stops teasing him, instead fully pumping him from base to tip. the act makes his thighs tremble, and you push them slightly more apart to give you easier access. the redness of his cock contrasts his pale skin adorably, and you can't help you're staring as he continues to leak.
"it hurts," he whimpers, mostly to himself, because all he can think about is how overwhelmed he feels. his thoughts are spinning, and even just the slightest touches on other parts of his body seem to startle him due to him focusing his entire attention on trying not to rip your hand off of his cock.
you don't pay attention to the whine, instead just pressing more kisses to his flushed cheeks, nibbling gently at the flesh while he sniffles. but, even with all the complaints and whines he was letting out, you've noticed that his hips have begun to buck back into your hand, only making the lewd noise louder. he tries to pretend that it was you who was torturing him, but his movements were of his own free will.
"you like it now?"
"no!" he says much too quickly, flashing you panicked eyes. "i-i just. 's not my fault!" at this point, you have fully stopped your movements just to watch in admiration of the boy. he was desperate in his movements, and with each thrust of his hips into the makeshift hole a coo leaves your mouth.
"aw, look, now you're getting excited. do you want to cum, megumi?" you purr, brushing his bangs back while twisting your other wrist. his eyes roll back, and his mouth remains open as he lets out quick, short breaths. now, his noises consisted more of moans rather than pained whimpers as he started to chase his high.
"n-no—yes. fuck I-" is all he manages to get out before your mouth is pressed onto his. but he pulls away only five seconds later due to his rapid heartbeat and the need for oxygen to keep up with it. you just chuckle at him and increase your speed, eyes flickering from the sight between his legs and his flushed face.
his thighs begin to squeeze shut, and his moans begin to increase in pitch, a telltale sign that he is teetering near his high. you chuckle at him when he begins to latch onto your neck, planting sloppy kisses to whatever surface he can. "are you close?"
he doesnt even attempt to speak, instead just nodding his head lazily. the act makes you roll your eyes and squeeze just a tad too hard on his dick in warning. he lets out a squeak at the feeling, and this time he does speak up. "yeah. yes. yes. c-close."
you pet his head, satisfied with his answer. "good boy. you can cum, alright?"
another set of tears pools in his eyes, and this time you cock your head to the side. "why are you crying 'gumi? I didn't hurt you that bad, did I?"
"no," he sniffles, "sorry d-dont stop. feels good, don't know why I'm crying. just don't stop!"
"relax. relax. I'm not," you reassure, kissing his face again. "you're lucky you are so cute, with all your demands."
he ignores you like he usually does when you tease him, but you are unsure if it is because he is being his usual self or because he is lost in pleasure.
seconds later, his hands grab at your shoulder, and he goes silent for a breath. then, just as the first rope shoots out, he cries, "cuming! of fuck. fuck!"
your lover's entire body quivers, and his mouth latches into your skin as the first wave washes over him. his eyes roll back and his mouth falls open with a silent scream. more tears come tumbling down his face, and you watch as the most pathetic amount of cum tonight comes dribbling out. it slides down his flushed cock and mixes with the movements of your hands.
eventually, when he comes down from his high and feels the stinging lick of overstimulation once again, he immediately forces your hand off, pinning the white-stained limb to the ground with frantic eyes. then he turns to you, even with his body jerking every couple of seconds from the aftershock, and glares at you — it doesn't hold much effect, considering his cheeks were flushed red and eyelashes were wet with tears, but it was cute nonetheless. "no. more."
you grin at the demand and use your clean hand to ruffle his hair. "your wish is my command, princess."
he narrows his eyes at the nickname, and the man tears himself from your arms. "I am going to shower," he mumbles before using all of his strength to stand up. he takes a step forward, and immediately he comes tumbling down.
megumi pretends he doesn't see the way his legs are trembling, but you see the way his ear twinged red in humiliation. you, of course, use it to your advantage. "need a little help there, Bambi?"
"you're not allowed to touch me for a week," he grumbles but grabs onto your arm and lets himself be left to the bathroom. it was an empty threat, as they usually are.
#mello.writes#dom! reader#dom reader#sub megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro smut#megumi smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#megumi fushiguro x you smut#megumi fushiguro x reader smut#sub jjk#sub! jjk#sub! megumi#sub megumi
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random thought but… stepdad!König fucking reader after finding out they wanna be in a relationship with him and saying “I’m going to marry you” or “I’ll make you mine one day” or smth like that. 🤭 and dbf!Horangi just kinda agreeing with him while sandwiching reader from the back, already having an idea of being the husband’s best friend that fucks his wifey 💝💝💝
—🎀—
Gah- that pink bow has my heart😵💫
cw: smut, STEPCEST, DUB-CON, creampie, sex marathon?, phone sex? Double penetration, p in v, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cheating, marriage, tell me if I missed any.
For a second, he forgot how to breathe, his knees weak and fingers twitching, his cheeks flushed with the joy he felt. Your little confession riled him up, your sweet tears and pout gave him the hardest erection he’d ever lived. Sweet, innocent words that would’ve seemed blasphemous to any other, sounded erotic, making his blood boil and arousal simmer under his skin. It worked through his body with tight and rushing pleasure, pumping blood down to his engorged cock and heavy balls.
“I want you,” sealed the deal, commanding his body to pound you into your bed, make you forget you ever had a life without him - he promised it.
And promised he did, he fucked you all day, pressing you down on your bed, folding you in half as keened loudly. The bed creaked and the wooden headboard slamming into the wall behind it with every rock of his hips, fingers gripping your soft bedsheets and toes curling over his shoulder. You were stuck beneath him until the time he knew your mother would be back, taking every moment he had to watch his cock push in you and back out with a ring of cum and slick around his thick cock.
At first, he took you alone, slamming into your while you mewled out, your sweet sounds reaching the hungry ears of your neighbour on the phone. König had called Horangi in a blur, his mirth infectious, making Horangi happy, chuckling out praises to you and giving his word that he’d come by after his exercise at the gym. Your stepdad kept his friend on the phone, the Korean wearing EarPods during his whole course, working out with his cock throbbing and pushing against his shorts.
An hour in, waking up after you passed out in pleasure, eyes rolled to the back of your head in white pleasure, Horangi made himself home, naked and kneeling between your thighs. You let out a surprised moan, back arching when he drove his tongue inside your twitching hole, his thumb rolling your sensitive clit. He took his take taking you apart, watching you flay and cream all over him, covering is face with slick.
Near delirious and body oversensitive, you felt them push into you, softly alternating between both cocks stuffing your stretched cunt. You were trapped between them, body pushed back and fourth, feeling them fill you up, bottoming out, balls slapping the other man, pulling out to the tip and slamming back in. You bucked your hips, chasing their cocks, nails digging into Horangi’s shoulder, gasping and moaning with your legs spread open by König’s hands.
“I’ll marry you, ja, Schatz?” König growled, pumping you full of cum, womb stuffed full with his and Horangi’s charged load. “Breed you and make you mine.”
“Fuck, I can’t wait to suck your tits,” Horangi couldn’t stop himself from agreeing, mind conjuring every image of your swollen stomach and wobbling walk. “Drink your sweet milk.”
“Do you want that, Schnucki?”
All you could do was nod, throat sore from screaming and body limp in your stepfather’s arms, your eyes were heavy chest puffing with loud, exhausted breaths. You liked their idea, marrying, breeding, becoming theirs, perhaps their delusions finally got to you.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly
#x reader#cod mw2#tw: cheating#tw: dubcon#tw: stepcest#stepdad!konig#Stepdad!könig#Dbf!horangi#Mw2 smut#cod smut#horangi x reader#horangi mw2#kim horangi hong jin#horangi smut#horangi x you#konig smut#König smut#konig x reader smut#könig x reader smut#könig x reader#konig mw2#könig mw2#konig
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I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER
fem, 1.2k
You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before.
"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you."
Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck.
"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly.
"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity.
You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now."
Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him.
"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly.
Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for.
"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired."
"You don't. Short shift?"
"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold."
"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.
The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them."
You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling.
What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned.
That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified.
"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."
You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp.
"Can I ask you something too personal?"
You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask.
Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it.
"Are you making enough money?" he asks.
You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay."
"Did you think about it?"
You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?"
"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down.
"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend."
"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault?
"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both."
"You could stay with me again."
You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no."
He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here.
"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed."
The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him.
He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved.
The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.
You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you.
Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence."
You're out like a light.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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18+ minors dni
what’s better than a 2 for 1 special? a 3 for 1 special! please cheer.
warnings: smidge of overstim 🤫
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
jason “move your hand” todd who pins your arms above your head to keep you out of his way. his face is inches from yours as he fucks you harshly into the mattress, enjoying the way you whine at every intrusion. your spine arches off the bed as you struggle under his grip, your sensitivity overwhelming you. “c’mon, ma,” he rasps, a cocky grin on his lips as you start to shake. “thought you said you could take it.”
dick “let me hear you” grayson who makes you beg for what you need. his hands rub your thighs lovingly as you glare at him and buck your hips in frustration, your aching cunt devastatingly empty despite the slow circles he’s rubbing on your clit. “you gotta tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he tuts gently, teasing his cock along your leaking entrance as you clench around nothing. “use your words for me.”
bruce “I’ll buy you another one” wayne who doesn’t bother waiting until you’re naked to fuck you. the delicate fabric of your gown snags on an old painting as he drives his cock into you while you’re pressed against the wall, filling you at an angle that makes you cry out with each thrust. “sorry about the dress, sweetheart,” he says between the sloppy kisses he’s peppering down your neck. “we’ll get a new one.”
#brucie debut!!#please clap.#I will cry.#jason todd#dick grayson#bruce wayne#jason todd smut#dick grayson smut#bruce wayne smut#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#fem reader#batfam#batman#nightwing#red hood#dc comics
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i can’t stop thinking about virgin! eddie being so embarrassed about coming after like 3 seconds and he keeps apologizing and says he wants to make up for it😩😩
Okay for You
Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV / unprotected sex, uncertainty but it resolves
“Jesus fucking Christ, holy mother of fucking god,” he’s stuttering as you lower yourself down on him. His fingertips dig into the meat of your hips so hard you can most certainly count on bruises tomorrow. He’s a lot to take but it feels good as you sink down, giving him a wincing grin.
“Didn’t know the town satan worshiper was so religious,” you tease, lightly sliding the tip of your index finger up and down the naked expanse of his chest in the shape of a cross. “Do you wanna be absolved of sin or do you wanna cum?
“Fuck, you can’t just–,” Eddie bucks up into you harshly and you laugh. Your laugh gets brighter when you notice the furrow in his brow and the desperation in his eyes.
“Choose sin, Eddie. I know you wanna cum.”
“Quit talking about cumming, I’m gonna fucking bust,” he whines out. You roll your hips, once, twice.
“Cum on the dark side, Eddie. We’ve got pussy.”
You’re straight up giggling at your own absurdity and at how far gone he is in under a minutes. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth drops open in a heady groan, hips stuttering upwards as he spills deep inside you. You ground your hands on his shoulders and bear down on him so that he feels fully encased and snug through his orgasm.
Eddie, it turns out, is fucking beautiful when he cums. Pink tinges the high points of his cheeks, getting darker around his ears and flushing crimson down his neck to his chest. His wet lips are open as he gasps down air, eyelids shut tight against the intensity of his release.
It takes him a minute, but the second he realizes what’s happened, his hands are off your thighs and covering his face in mortification.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“That good, handsome?” you ask smugly, not quite noticing the tonal shift yet.
“No its…well yeah but I didn’t…that was too…fuck I’m so sorry.” When he finishes rambling he sits up and pulls his hands from his face, revealing an almost teary eyed expression. Your eyebrows shoot up in response.
“Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” you ask, suddenly a lot softer, your hand curling around his forearm to pull him so he stops biting at a nail.
“I just blew my load in 0.5 seconds like a fucking virgin.”
You stare at him for a second before breaking out into hysterical giggles. He looks affronted at first, but as you keep laugh the corner of his mouth quirks a little.
“What?”
“Eddie, you are a virgin,” you clarify, though you immediately amend it. “Were a virgin. I kinda expected it, to be honest.”
Eddie huffs a laugh but sits a bit straighter. He’s still inside you, growing soft, but you like the closeness so you don’t get up just get.
“What? You didn’t think I’d be a mind blowing lover?” he asks and your glad he’s back to making jokes. You shrug.
“You’ve got a big dick, so you’re not that far off to begin with. If we work on your stamina you could be blowing my back out in no time.”
You watch him short circuit as he stares at you and you definitely don’t miss the way his dick twitches inside of you.
“Yeah?” he asks. It’s hesitant. You lean forward and give him a kiss that answers all his questions - bruising and wet and probing and dirty - and his lips chase yours when you pull away.
“You’ll be Fabio in no time,” you promise with a cheeky smile.
“I wanna make you cum,” Eddie replies earnestly. His hands are back on your thighs, smoothing up and down. “I’m so fucking pissed I didn’t make you cum. ‘M sorry.”
“Eddie, don’t be sorry,” you reassure him. You go to kiss him again and he melts, mewling desperately and leaning into the affection. It turns you on so much that this scary, beautiful man is putty beneath you. So much so that you feel yourself growing needy and snake a hand down between you to start playing with your clit.
The friction causes you to squeeze around his rapidly re-hardening cock. He jolts at the feeling.
“What’re you…?” he breaks away to ask you, eyes trailing down to your ministrations. “Oh fuck are you…are you touching yourself?”
“Mhm. You’re making me feel good, Eds. I kinda have to,” you confirm with a chuckle. He watches you for a moment before he slides his hand down your abdomen tentatively.
“Can…can I do it?”
You’re panting a bit at this point. Worked up again from the lack of satisfaction the first time around.
“You wanna?” you ask, kind of hoping he’ll say no so you can get yourself off before he cums prematurely again. You can feel his hips beginning to cant lightly, teasing you with the pressure.
“Please,” he practically whispers and you can deny him so you pull you hand away. What you aren’t expecting is for him to grab it and wrap his lips around your wet fingers. Your eyes blow wide and your pussy clenches around his cock, making him groan around his mouthful.
“Eddie…” you say quietly. He blinks at you before pulling your fingers from his mouth with a pop and reaching down to press his own circles into your clit.
It’s juuuuust off. Another millimeter and you’ll feel great. You roll your hips to try and get him where you need him, but unfortunately the slide of his cock inside of you distracts him, making him freeze up and moan. So you take matters into your own hands, literally, grabbing his wrist and pulling at him so that he’s on the right spot.
“Yeah? Right there?”
He’s seeking genuine reassurance, but your brain hears the questions as dirty talk, making you roll your hips again.
“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah right there.”
You begin grinding on him in earnest while he continues to play with you. After a few moments you grab his free hand to bring it from your hip to grope your breast. His eyes practically bug out of his head.
“Oh wow,” Eddie says.
You want to laugh at how easy he is. But it’s starting to feel really good, and you’re so pent up at this point you decide just to chase it.
“Say something,” you breathe out. Eddie looks confused.
“Like…like what?”
“Just - fuck. I don’t know. Talk dirty.” You’re doing your best not to ride him fully, because you can see the way all of his muscles are starting to tense. You hope that by giving him a task it’ll distract him long enough so you can cum.
“Uh you’re…you’re just like…so fucking beautiful—,”
“Eds,” you let out a frustrated chuckle. “That’s not dirty talk—.”
“So f-fucking beautiful on my cock,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “Want you to cum. You’re so wet, bet you need it so bad.”
Well shit.
Recently de-virgin-ed Eddie had found your weakness and it’s condescension. Your pussy squeezes him and you let out a moan that has him grinning through a hiss.
“You need it, huh? Just desperate to cum, huh baby?”
Baby is a new pet name and you love it. You nod and his finger picks up it’s pace on your clit, his other hand following your earlier lead by playing with and tugging at your nipples.
“Need it, Eds.”
“Oh I need it, too, baby. Shoulda happened the first time, but I need you to feel good now, ok?” There’s a sincerity behind the lightest layer of teasing. He can’t really tease fully. Not when he’s on the brink of cumming again as it is.
But the laser focused eye contact he’s locked you in is doing plenty for you.
“Ok.”
“Ok,” Eddie repeats in a hum. His free hand goes to the back of your neck and pulls you down to him so he can grace you with a wet, sucking kiss. He bites your plush lower lip and lets his free hand tighten in your hair.
“Oh god, Eddie,” you whimper against his lips.
“Fuuuuck, I’ve been waiting to hear you like this,” Eddie groans.
You’re basically just cock warming him at this point with a little humping mixed in. But you’re really impatient at this point, so the constant roll of your hips is taking you further than it usually would.
Eddie’s free hand slides from your hair down your back to grab a a handful of your ass. He guides your gyrating hips up and down your cock just that much more and now you’re panting.
“Eddie,” you whine. “I’m close.”
“Holy shit. Seriously?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Clearly shocked.
“Yeah, handsome. You’re fucking me so good.”
You both know it’s an exaggeration. But you’re impatient to cum at this point and eager to praise the beautiful man beneath you. He preens and licks his lips.
“Yeah? Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Wanna make you feel so good. Please, just let me baby. Wanna…oh fuck…please.” He’s rambling at this point and you know he’s close. You bring your hands to either side of his face, framing his jaw.
“Look at me, handsome,” you breathe. You’re so close at this point. His hazy eyes find yours.
“Baby…” he says, eyelids fluttering. He looks just so absolutely destroyed - that’s what ultimately gets you. That this man is losing his damn mind over you but holding out as long as he can so you feel pleasure.
That pleasure washes over you in that moment, along with a cry of Eddie’s name. You collapse over him and cling to him as your pussy spasms around his aching cock. It blows Eddie’s ever loving mind to feel your body reacting to him so strongly. His last bit of resolve snaps like a fucking twig and suddenly he’s clutching you to him and fucking up into you.
“Baby-oh fuck. Baby, yes. God.” He’s gasping and panting and then his hips are stuttering. He goes still, cumming inside you for the second time tonight.
You’re so full. Two loads of cum and his already oversized cock. But even better is how he holds you. Big arms surround you and keep you grounded against his body, even as twitching aftershocks rock him.
It’s a few moments before you’re properly able to do anything other than relish in the feeling of his overwhelming presence. It’s the persistent ache in your muscles that spurs you into action.
“Eddie…I’ve gotta move…”
“Oh fuck, sorry!” He’s quick to release you, letting you peel yourself from his sweaty skin and gingerly climb off of him. Before you can move any further he jumps up. “Wait let me just…”
He’s back in a moment with a wash cloth - warm, you notice in the back of your hazy mind. He lightly cleans you up, missing the heart eyes you direct his way from the sheer gentleness of his movements.
Eddie is so caring. So sweet and bumbling and eager and awkward and you can’t help but beam back at him when he sends a smile your way. He settles back on the bed with you hesitantly.
“Was that…was that okay for you?” he asks.
“I should be asking you that,” you counter, slapping at his arm. He’s having none of it, though, instead grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.
“Well I fucking came twice so I don’t think it’s really a question, baby.”
“Hmmm I like when you call me baby,” you coo. You’re a boneless mass of gooey feelings now, encased in Eddie’s arms. The skin around his eyes crinkles and his dimples deepen.
“Oh yeah? You like being my baby?” You don’t miss the way his flush gets deeper but you relish in the newfound confidence in his voice.
“I love being your baby, Eds.”
~*~
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Thank you for reading! Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think
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18+ Know what I want? Flustered Bucky. Blushing like a school boy Bucky. Chewing his lip, stuttering with his cock leaking cause your mouth is so fuckin' filthy Bucky. Dominance slipping, needy while you worship him, Bucky.
"Why is your cock so pretty baby" You cooed, catching him off guard as you gave him long, languid strokes while seated in his lap as he sat upright against the headboard, his breath hitching his his throat. Your eyes were drawn to his perfect pink cockhead, currently glistening with precum, a pretty fat drop dripping onto your fingers as soon as the words left your mouth. "Hm?"
"W-what?" Bucky blinked at you while his heart started to race, his cheeks growing hot when you stopped stroking him, moving your hand to form a tight ring around the base of his cock instead.
"Mphm, so pretty" You took your other hand, tapping his tip, letting a string of his arousal pull onto your finger tip, humming in satisfaction at just how well the sticky web stayed connected to your finger as you popped it into your mouth. You smirked at the whimper he let out, noticing the way his neck and chest were flushed, swear beading at his forehead.
"It’s-it’s no-" He tried to shake his head, too flustered, too shy for all this attention you were giving him, his own voice melting into a needy moan when your wet finger swiped over his frenulum.
"Shhh" You snaked down till you were between his legs, lightly smacking his thighs, motioning for him to lie down. "So. Fucking. Pretty" You whispered between kitten licks, focused on where he's most sensitive, laving over his slit, picking up the drops of his arousal on your tongue.
"Oh god" his voice was breathless, fingers digging into the sheets with his chest heaving while he watched you looking at his cock so intently, taking care of his most precious places.
"Y'know I like pretty cocks baby, but your is a the prettiest" Bucky had no idea what the hell you were doing to him, each of your words sending him into a space he'd never been in. He didn't want you to stop, spreading his legs further for you, looking at with you puppy eyes, his lip chewed raw, waiting for you to continue.
"Good boy, showing me how pretty your cock is, huh?, C'mon, show me all of you baby, show off your pretty dick" You smirked and Bucky swore his cheeks couldn't get hotter. He nearly drew blood with how hard he bit his lip as he opened his thighs as far as they'd go, bringing his knees up and planting his feet on the bed. "That's it handsome, you like that? So shy but you're all naked with your legs spread out, so naughty sergeant"
He slung his arm over to hide his face, too shy for any of this, he was ready to beg, he needed more, craved more, you may as well have casted a spell over him, all of it was too much.
"Are you all slutty like this for others, baby?" You teased, knowing damn well Bucky would rather have the earth swallow him whole.
"Nooo, just-just you" He shook his head, still partially hiding his face.
"I know, this pretty cock is all mine, you only show it off for me, don't you"
"Please" Was all he was able to get out, heavy balls throbbing, desperate to be emptied, a desperate sound he'd never made before slipping past his lips when you moved to slot his erection between your wet folds.
"Why don't you tell me how perfect your cock is first" You grinded down your hips, letting his tip rub against your clit, moaning along with him while he chased for more, both hands flying to your hips to move you on him faster.
"Say it baby boy" You continued to grind while he tried to hump you from underneath, his hips stuttering along with the bruising grip of his hands grabbing you to rub your pussy all over his cock.
"M-my cock's pretty" Bucky whined, tears threatening to slip out as his cockhead caught against your soaked entrance, his hips bucking up, hoping to sink into your tight heat. "C'mon, please fuck me-OH GOD"
"S-so good baby!" You threw your head back as you let him sheath himself into you, falling against his chest while he started to thrust upwards. He couldn't hold back, nearly jack hammering into you, his balls slapping against your ass while he wrapped his arms around your body using you like a fucktoy.
"M'gonna cum-m'-m'gonna cum" Bucky whined between needy moans, not having any time to be embarrassed over how worked up he was, unable to last past a few strokes, his cock ready to burst.
"You gonna cum already, baby boy?" you nipped at his neck, fat drops of precum making a mess inside you while he started to lost his pace, sloppily slamming into you as best as he could, trying to starve his orgasm.
"S'too hard, cock's too hard, I can't hold it, wanna cum, please"
"Cum" You whispered, snaking your hand down to rub your clit the feeling of your pussy choking too much-
"FUCKKK" Bucky buried his face into the crook of your neck as he started to fill you up with ropes of his spend, his unending load making a mess on the sheets, "Won't-stop-I-fuck me-s'sensitive
"Shhh, let it out, let it all out for me" You pushed back the hair that clung to his forehead, kissing his hot, flushed skin, "Y'know we're not done yet, Sergeant, I didn't cum yet"
I might be in heat, idk.
#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader fluff#shy bucky barnes#shy bucky#soft bucky barnes#bucky barnes soft smut#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fic#marvel smut#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#18+ content
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𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙃 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉 — As a broke college student, it’s not wrong to want a rich boyfriend! That doesn’t mean you’re a gold digger, or will stoop so low you will ruin your worth, it just means you want a man who will take care of you, and guess what? You found him.
note: this will be a 3 part series! First one I’ve ever made and may be my last! So please not too much on these writings! Luv you!
𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄𝙄
Content Warnings: language, suggestive content
Nanami is a man of morals. He usually keeps his hands and eyes to himself, he holds the door for anyone, women especially, he respects boundaries, and if anything that causes him to think inappropriately he will kindly excuse himself to make sure he doesn’t seem like a creep. But Nanami is just like any man.
Nanami longs for a lover, a wife. He desires children, a family. But in this cruel, sick world, he can’t find a woman who wants him for him. Nanami is one of the top 10 richest men on the planet, he not including himself, but his company in that title.
Every woman he has attempted to date tries to put on their best “I love you for your heart not your money!” act, but it slips the second they tell him “oh no! I forgot my wallet!”
Nanami knows every trick in the book, he knows the look women give him when they are impressed by his wealth, he knows the lip biting they do to show interest in his looks, he knows the voice and excuses they say to make him fall down to their feet, which he never once has done nor will do. He knows it all. So dating people that have seen him before he’s met them makes it all the more boring.
So, when Nanami’s friend, Haibara introduced him to dating apps, he obviously was shook.
“You really had no idea there were dating apps?” Haibara blankly looked at him. Nanami bit his thumb in uncertainty.
He grumbled a little “no.” And his friend smiled. “Then sign up! What can you lose? They don’t have to know what you look like.”
Nanami hated that idea. “No, I want them to know who I am.” His firm voice erased that idea completely from his friends plan.
“Well, 80% of this world knows who you are, that wish you want isn’t going to happen.” Nanami sighed knowingly, just tired from his sad lonely life.
“Haibara, thank you for this..” Nanami thought carefully of his words. “Great discovery, but I think it’s best you head home and I sleep on it.” Haibara understood, and firmly grabbed Nanami’s shoulder on his way out.
“You’ll find her, I know you will.” Nanami placed his hand firmly on Haibara’s in a thank you, and Haibara left.
After Nanami heard Haibara leave, he hurriedly sat down on his couch and opened the dating site.
“RICHTON THE DATING APP FOR THE WEALTHY!”
Nanami quickly laughed at the cringe advertisement, but it was a popular app, so something was working.
Nanami put in his information and had to choose which photos to put on his profile. He chose the first decent ones he could find, not caring too much about perfection, and he was brought up with the interests slide.
He clicked three random ones and pressed continue. The app asked to use his camera to verify his age and photos. Nanami positioned the camera to where it said to and he was verified. The app welcomed him to a very ugly woman.
Nanami had skipped the tutorial at the beginning and just swiped towards the X like he has seen on TV. This app was the definition of a gold diggers dream. Rich men pay to speak with women that aren’t even all that.
Nanami swiped and swiped towards the x. No woman looked like a decent women. They all looked like they seduce men or are prostitutes, maybe both. Nanami frowned seeing all the half naked women.
“Should I really be on this app?” He thought to himself. He continued to swipe, heart sinking each swipe to the left seeing women who don’t know their worth. Ass in the camera more than their face just to get a quick buck. Nanami swiped one more time ready to turn his phone off, and his thumb froze.
A girl with straight hair smiling in what seems to be senior photo. She was in a white summer dress posing in a daisy field. The beach was calm behind her and he couldn’t help but stare at her smile. She seemed so pure, so innocent and that was exactly what he was looking for. He swiped right on her profile and it opened up a message saying:
“YOUR FIRST MATCH! SEND HER A MESSAGE WITH THE AMOUNT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEND!”
Nanami saw a text box and a drop box. The drop box has let Nanami type in the amount he would like to send. The minimum was 5 dollars. He typed in $100 and pressed on the text box.
His thumbs again froze. What should he say? Should he compliment her? Introduce himself? Nanami combined them. He typed.
“Hello, my name is Kento and I couldn’t help but be in absolute awe seeing your photos. You are absolutely beautiful.” He sent it without looking back, this was already hard enough.
Nearly instantly you saw his message and typed.
Y: “Oh my god, you did NOT have to send that much money!”
He imagined your voice as he read your message. He chuckled to himself like a madman and he started typing back.
N: “I wanted to, you are so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”
He nervously tapped his thumbs on the side of his phone waiting for your response.
Y: “I really do appreciate the compliment but $100 is too much, I can’t accept that!”
N: “Too late, I want you to have it, I want to talk to you.”
Y: “You can’t talk to me for free!”
N: “That’s not how this app works..?” Nanami was confused.
Y: “Oh, right.. I forgot you have to pay to chat.”
N: “Please don’t be alarmed by the money, I’m not running out anytime soon😂”
Nanami cringed at himself for using such an emoji, but he wanted you to feel at ease.
Y: “Thank you, you really didn’t have to though. I won’t stop saying that.”
N: “Then let’s change the subject. Why are you on this app?”
You saw his message but didn’t text back. Did he ask a triggering question? You soon started typing, and his nerves came back.
Y: “You know, a broke college student who needs a little extra cash😅”
He chuckled, for a girl who didn’t want a hundred bucks, that’s sure what she was looking for.
N: “Haha, so you won’t mind if I send more?”
Y: “Don’t send more! I’m not that broke😭”
Nanami smiled. He smiled as if you were really there. He imagined having this conversation with you and how hard you would make him laugh with your silly remarks.
N: “Don’t worry, I won’t 😂, but it’s not like you’re going to stop me.”
Y: “I’ll send it back😜✌🏾”
N: “I’ll send it back!”
Y: “And I’ll send it again, it will be a whole thing if you make it💀”
The fact you both were arguing over money is crazy, Nanami never argued with a woman about sending them money. They usually do a “oh no you don’t have to do that!” But will eventually accept. You on the other hand are just outright refusing. Nanami is now intrigued by you.
N: “If you won’t accept my money via here, how about dinner? I’ll pay, and I won’t argue about it when we get there.”
You again took your time typing, very obvious you are unsure.
Y: “Okay… but where are you tryna take me?”
N: “I was thinking…. Hermes?”
Y: “You’re joking!”
N: “What?”
Y: “I can’t afford that!”
N: “You’re not paying.”
Y: “Still, I can’t make you pay for that!”
N: “I want to pay for it, I eat there all the time.”
Y: “Not for two☹️”
N: “I’ve paid for 10.”
Y:“Kento..”
N: “Y/n, please. I want to meet you. You intrigue me, I’ve never met someone like you. I don’t want to seem like a begged, nor do I want to pressure you, but I would love to meet you and enjoy a nice dinner with you.”
Nanami felt desperate even though he just met you not even an hour ago.
The long response time again happened, and Nanami felt like he blew it. The once time he felt like he actually found someone worth the time, he blew it.
Y: “Okay.”
Nanami’s heart fluttered seeing your message.
N: “You will have dinner with me?”
Y: “Yes! I’ll have dinner with you😂”
Nanami felt like a little boy again. He hadn’t felt this excited to ask a girl out since never and it felt good.
N: “How does tomorrow sound? I know that’s soon, but it’s the only day my schedule isn’t busy.”
Y: “Yeah, tomorrow would be great!”
N: “Alright, I’ll see you then!”
Y: “See you!”
+
The next day Nanami felt different. His head was somewhere else, somewhere lighter, happier. He felt… excited? He wasn’t sure, he hasn’t felt this way until his first client offered him half a million dollars as he started his journey in this company.
Nanami played more upbeat music, very different from his normal taste, and he swayed and stepped with every beat to the song as he ironed his clothes. He had opened windows and instead of wincing from the sun hitting his eyes, he smiled.
“What a beautiful morning.” He thought to himself. Nanami must have been in a different place that he didn’t even know was so negative until now. He was looking forward to a dinner with someone. He hasn’t felt that way in years and he just wishes he could meet you right then and there.
Nanami nearly put on his freshly ironed clothes and grabbed his briefcase and blazer. He locked his garage door and headed straight to his black Porsche that he usually doesn’t drive, but today, why not?
Nanami drove to work with a smile on his face. Haibara greeted Nanami as he stepped out of his car and a valet stepped in for him.
“Good morning.” Nanami smiled and Haibara walked beside him.
“Good morning…” Haibara stared at Nanami’s face.
“Did something happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you win the lottery? What’s got you so happy?”
“Haibara.” Nanami stopped and turned towards his friend, “Thank you.”
Haibara wanted to laugh, he didn’t even do anything, right?
“for what” Nanami smiled at Haibara.
“For showing me that ‘app’. I’m going to meet someone for dinner tonight.” Haibara smiled at Nanami.
“That’s great, Kento! What’s her name?”
“Y/n.”
“Hm, is she pretty?”
“Beautiful.”
“Is she rich?”
“Eh..”
“Is she young?”
“Kind of.”
“What do you mean by ‘kind of?”
“She’s… 20..” Nanami purses his lips waiting for Haibara’s reaction.
“20?!” His eyes were wide and he laughed. “You’re 34!”
“She’s very aware of my age.” Nanami said not amused by his friends reaction.
“I mean, hey, if a woman 14 years older than me asked me out, and she was hot, I’d go out worth her too.” Haibara threw his hands up in a ‘what can I say’ pose and Nanami rolled his eyes.
“We meet at 6, so I just need to get through today.” Nanami said more to himself. The happy facade started to break, and he felt the butterflies pool in his stomach.
He was nervous. He hasn’t been on a date with someone he actually wants to meet in over 10 years. He doesn’t remember how to be charismatic, he doesn’t remember how to be enticing and interesting. Work has been the only topic that’s been keeping his conversations alive. He doesn’t talk to anyone about anything personally other than Haibara and that is hard enough.
Haibara saw Nanami. He knew Nanami for nearly 6 years and this was the look of nervousness. He’s seen it countless times, but that’s only because he knows him. He can tell from the slight twitch in his jaw and the subtle fidgeting with his hands.
“Come on Nanami, let’s go to my office.” Nanami nodded and followed Haibara.
+
In Haibaras office, he gave Nanami tips.
“Now I have met countless women. Hard to believe, I know, and I know how to get them wanting more.” Nanami cringed at the thought of his good friend seducing women.
“I’m not trying to get anything from her, I just want to hold a conversation and hopefully get to know her more.”
“Alright, I got you.” Haibara walked over to his whiteboard and wrote “NANAMI’S FIRST DATE”
“This isn’t my first date, Haibara.”
“I know, but you’re acting like it is.”
Nanami nodded in agreement, and Haibara clapped his hands together.
“I have cancelled all meeting that require you to be there, and will have your secretary fill in for the ones that don’t. We have all day to get you ready for your date, alright?”
“Ok.” Nanami replied. Nanami felt silly sitting in the chair and listening to his younger friend teach him how to act right on a date. Nanami usually lets the women talk since he usually doesn’t care too much about them. He usually just lets his colleagues recommend a woman and set up a date. Nanami regrets every single dollar he wasted on the money thirsty women. But he wants to try with you. He wants to talk to you and let you talk. He wants to actually get to know you, maybe even go on more dates and hang out.
“Ok, first step. Do NOT let them talk the whole time. Even if they ramble, try and have a mutual conversation. Sometimes when they ramble, they think it’s because you aren’t interested and they will want to make sure you're still intrested” Haibara took in a huge breath, “OR they are nervous.”
Nanami nodded.
“You just have to read their body language.”
“Well, how will I know if they are nervous or not?”
“You’ll know. If they look around when talking, when they cover their face when talking, when they hold their hands in their lap, if they look tense, come on, you know what nervous looks like.”
Nanami nodded again.
“Use your words, this is practice. Don’t just nod your head,” Haibara mocked him by aggressively nodding his head “say things like ‘I agree’ or ‘I’m listening’ or ask them about whatever they’re talking about so they know you’re listening.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t just say ‘okay’.” Haibara mocked again. “Try and be more creative! Let’s practice.”
Haibara sat down in his seat and tried his best to look more feminine.
“So yeah, me and my friends went mini golfing and I didn’t know what to do so I just sat and watched them play.”
Nanami sat there. What did Haibara want him to say? Haibara looked at him, waiting for a response.
“Oh, well that is very sad.” Nanami said unsure. Haibara sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Yep, might as well pay the bill and leave.” Nanami sat there dumbfounded. What was he supposed to say?
“What should I have said instead?”
“Nanami, I can’t tell you what to say, but that would have sent her home crying. You sounded like you didn’t care. You should say something along the lines of ‘did you ever end up knowing how to play mini golf?’ That will at least let her know you’re listening.” Haibara stood up and sighed.
“We have a lot of work to do.”
+
After many hours of preparing, Nanami’s watch chimed. It was 5:30 and he needed to head home and change.
“Thank you Haibara, this was very helpful.” Nanami shook his friends hand and headed towards the front of the office.
“Don’t try too hard! Just let it come out naturally!” Haibara cakes out to Nanami. Nanami smiled back at his friend and Haibara sighed.
“Please don’t screw this up.”
#nanami x you#jujutsu nanami#jjk nanami#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami x reader#kento nanami#jjk kento#kento smut
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sweet child o' mine | pt. iv
to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you
thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x
pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.
warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption.
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: 12k
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵
It’s September twenty-third.
Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.
The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.
You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.
Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.
This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.
This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.
This time in a year, it –
His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”
You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.
“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.
Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.
He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?
You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.
You gulp. Quit fucking staring.
He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”
“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”
Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”
“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”
He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.
“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”
He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”
“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”
He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”
You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”
“Tuesday.”
“Bullshit.”
“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”
You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.
But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.
It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.
“How old are you turning?” you ask.
Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”
“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.
He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.
You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.
Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.
He doesn’t seem to mind, either.
You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.
The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.
The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.
“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”
“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”
1:29. 1:29. 1:30.
It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.
Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.
“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”
The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.
Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.
Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.
You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.
The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.
He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.
Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?
Yeah. They’re half you.
You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.
You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.
But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.
Fuck it.
You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.
Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.
“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”
Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.
Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.
There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.
As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.
“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”
He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”
“I’m…I’m in labor.”
“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”
You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”
He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”
The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.
This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.
“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”
Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”
“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”
You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”
There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”
“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.
“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”
“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”
And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.
“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”
His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.
Joel’s panicking.
It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.
“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.
“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”
A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.
“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”
The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.
“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”
He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”
You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”
The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”
Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”
“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”
“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”
“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.
“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”
The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.
Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.
“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”
The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”
“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”
With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.
And then you hear it.
Three sharp raps, from downstairs.
You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”
“Hm?”
“Are you…?”
The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.
“Am I what, darlin’?”
You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.
It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.
Knock knock knock.
Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.
The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.
Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”
She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.
Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.
“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.
“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”
She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.
You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”
She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”
You shake your head, beginning to cry again.
Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”
You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”
She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”
“Alice, you really don’t have to –”
“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”
You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”
“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”
“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”
The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.
A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.
Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.
You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.
“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”
The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”
“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.
She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.
Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.
You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”
“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”
You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”
“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”
“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”
She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”
Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.
Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.
Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.
You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.
You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.
Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.
Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.
Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.
Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.
And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.
The contraction splits your daydream in two.
In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.
You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.
It’s a fucking nightmare.
Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.
It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.
And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.
“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.
Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.
“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”
The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.
Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.
Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.
Safer.
Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.
He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.
You blink your eyes open.
Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.
“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.
“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.
You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”
He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.
But – he’s here. He made it.
The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.
He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.
“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”
“How did you get here so –?”
“Ninety-five the entire way.”
You frown. “Only ninety-five?”
“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”
Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.
He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.
“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.
Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”
Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.
“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”
You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.
Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”
He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.
“And what if you’d had an accident?”
“I didn’t, Alice.”
“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”
Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”
You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.
He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.
“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.
She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.
Always watching, always listening.
You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.
“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”
Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”
“I’ll call,” he assures.
She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.
Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”
“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”
He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”
“Better now,” you tell him.
“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”
“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”
He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”
You take a deep breath. “I need…”
Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.
“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”
“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”
You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”
“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”
Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.
It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.
Mom.
You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.
I see you every time I look in the mirror.
Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.
The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.
You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.
She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.
She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.
Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –
You.
Her mom.
“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”
He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.
You turn to look up at him.
He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.
“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.
You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.
Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”
“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.
Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.
Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.
You finally fucking get it.
She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.
You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.
Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.
You’re Mom, you’re Dad.
It’s all she’s ever known.
The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.
You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.
None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.
Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”
“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”
An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.
Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.
Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –
This is the thing he’s proudest of.
Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.
Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.
You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.
The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.
The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.
You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.
Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.
You shake your head. “I like watching you.”
He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”
“Me, either.”
He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.
You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.
“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.
“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”
His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”
You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”
He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.
The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.
You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.
Sarah.
And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.
“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”
Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”
The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.
Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?
More than the whole world, Mama.
“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”
“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.
You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –
He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.
And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.
Just for a moment.
Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.
He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.
He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.
He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.
It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.
But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.
You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.
You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.
Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.
“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.
She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.
He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.
“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”
Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”
“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.
He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.
Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.
Every time, it’s a combination of all three.
Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.
You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.
On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.
Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”
“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”
He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”
The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.
It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.
Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.
Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.
“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”
His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”
You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.
Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.
His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”
Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”
Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”
“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.
He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.
“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.
You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”
“What did she…? Did she say anything?”
Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”
He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.
“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”
“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”
Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”
He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.
“I’m not.”
“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”
A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.
Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.
She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.
He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.
You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”
Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.
“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”
Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”
Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.
She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.
“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.
“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”
Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”
“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”
Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”
You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.
“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”
Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.
You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.
“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”
She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.
Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.
She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.
“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”
The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.
That – and hushed voices in the living room.
“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”
You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.
“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”
“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”
Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.
You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”
Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”
“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.
She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.
“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.
You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”
Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”
“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.
Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.
She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.
You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”
Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”
Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.
Things could not have gone smoother.
It’s suspicious as shit.
You turn when you hear Joel shifting.
“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.
The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.
You linger in the living room.
Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.
Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.
One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.
Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.
A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.
Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.
You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom���s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.
Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.
Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.
Almost.
“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”
You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”
“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”
“You mean the three of us?”
He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.
You hum. “Maybe.”
“You don’t feel like it?”
“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”
“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”
He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.
It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.
You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”
Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”
“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”
“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”
He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.
He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.
He takes another unsteady breath.
“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”
His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.
“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”
Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.
“Yeah?” you ask.
Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”
Your eyes start to sting. You look away.
“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”
He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.
“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”
“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”
“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”
You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”
“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”
His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”
You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”
“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.
It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.
He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”
Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.
“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”
You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.
He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”
You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.
“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”
“Wyoming?” you sniff.
“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”
Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.
“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.
Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”
“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”
“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.
It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.
And goddamn, you’ve missed it.
Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.
He’s hungry.
He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.
Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.
His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.
“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.
He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.
He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.
You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.
Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.
He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.
Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.
He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.
Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.
“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.
He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.
“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.
You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”
Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”
Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.
And then he pushes in.
He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.
You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.
“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”
“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”
“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.
You agree, “Tighter.”
He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”
It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.
You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.
Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.
“Feel good?” he pants.
Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”
“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”
“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”
His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.
You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.
I love you, he breathes.
And the world whitens.
He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.
You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.
“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.
He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”
“Do you think we wasted too much time?”
Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”
“Needed a little help, though.”
He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”
You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.
You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.
You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.
“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”
The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.
Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.
“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”
“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”
“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.
Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.
Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”
“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”
But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”
Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”
He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.
Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.
Made for each other.
You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.
Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.
You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”
Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.
It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.
You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.
“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”
You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.
There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?
“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.
He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.
“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”
You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.
Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.
She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.
“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”
“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.
Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”
“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.
“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.
“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”
You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”
Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.
She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”
He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”
The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.
Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.
“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”
“And Nel?”
“And Nel.”
“And Mama?”
“And Mama.”
Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.
Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.
She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.
Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.
Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.
He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.
And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.
But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.
Well. Her, and her little sister.
“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”
A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.
“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”
You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.
“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us#tlou#macfrog#neighbor!joel miller#babydaddy!joel miller#tw pregnancy
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I've seen you mention that alastor would make little deer bleats in a few fics, do you have anything for the reader hearing him bleat for the first time, like reader said something flirty that caught him off guard or while petting his ears, alastor would definitely be the time to be like "what ever are you talking about dear, you're hearing things" and try to change the subject out of embarrassment
- 🐞
I LOVE IT
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Suggestive, Explicit s e x towards the end
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor makes deer noises, usually when he's pissed off or exerting some of his power
It's a very emotional and unintentional thing, something he normally can't help or hide
Usually, you can hear buck grunts, warning calls, though elk bugle sounds dominate most of the other noises he makes
You didn't even know he was capable of making softer sounds until you found out by accident
The two of you were alone, sharing a romantic moment with you in his lap and his hands caressing your body
You had pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath when his twitching ears suddenly got your attention
Not that Alastor minded, keeping his mouth busy with your neck and shoulder instead
As if you could ever pass up the opportunity to touch those fluffy ears...
You couldn't help but scratch and rub his furry ears, leaning into kiss one while giving it a playful nip
Only to be surprised by the soft bleat that escapes from Alastor and the way his entire body goes stiff out of embarrassment
"Alastor, did you just-"
"Would you look at the time?! I must go, darling! Things to do, people to see!"
Leaves you on the floor, on your back, and in shock
You try to bring it up to him later but that doesn't work-
"Alastor, about that sound you made..."
"Hm? Oh! I merely had to clear my throat! Not to worry, darling! It won't happen again."
"But I want it to."
👀
It becomes a game between you two, well...more of a game for you, Alastor has never been so nervous in his fucking life
You're on a mission to hear that adorable noise again by any means possible
He's eating breakfast?? You're leaning over him and kissing along his neck while pouring him tea
Which doesn't work, he just tilts his head and gives you a contented growl before continuing with his meal
He's taking a small break? Eyes closed and relaxed? You try going for his ears again, massaging them
That doesn't work either, instead he gives you a warm smile and pulls you down to lay with him
You try flirting with him, maybe you can say something sultry and catch him so off guard he makes that sound again?
Instead, you just get yourself into trouble because instead of something small and subtle you just drop a fucking bomb instead
You corner him and pin him to the wall, mustering up every bit of courage and control to push forward
"Do you believe dreams can come true? Because I dream of you cumming inside me."
WHAT THE FUCK Y/N WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT PICK UP LINE
Angel
Oh that makes sense
It doesn't work, instead Alastor gets a predatory look on his face and he's pulling you closer to him
"Luckily for you, my dear~ I happen to have a soft spot for dreamers such as yourself~"
Oh fuck
It actually does end up working in your favor, just not the way you thought it would
You don't even remember how you end up naked on your back, legs spread to accommodate Alastor between them
Both of you are close, having been at it for hours at this point, desperate ragged sounds coming from the two of you
Your nails are digging into his back, no doubt leaving nasty marks that he'll later tease you for
He has one clawed hand on your hip while the other grips and makes deep grooves into the headboard
You're nearly out of it, mind fizzy and hot with the feeling of being so full of Alastor's cock that you almost miss your chance
You know exactly how to get that sound out of him
Suddenly, your legs lock around him and you're tugging him down to you to give him a desperate steamy kiss
He's caught off guard and startled but eagerly reciprocates your actions, chasing a building orgasm between you both
He pulls away to growl and pant, head rolling back as his thrusts become sharp and erratic
You tug him back to you by his hair and suddenly give him a watery smile, barely able to hold on because you're so close
"A-Alastor...haa...I love you...~"
And that's what does it, his eyes widen in surprise as he suddenly releases inside you, letting out a pathetic sounding bleat
He's so mortified afterwards, burying his face in your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair. Both of you shuddering and trying to catch your breaths
"You...you are an evil evil person..."
You can't help but laugh and kiss his head, scratching around his antlers affectionately
"I love you too, Alastor~ Every part of you~"
This one got away from me...it's probably not what you asked for but... I hope you like it!!
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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cam girl (part nine)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
You watch Rafe’s naked back as he sits on the edge of your bed, muscles flexing when he pulls something out of his bunched up jeans.
He puts a small box in front of you and anticipation bubbles in your chest.
What kind of kinky shit is it this time?
Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze. He looks so damn hot right now, his skin still glistening from the orgasm you just had on his face, his lids low.
Warmth pools in your stomach when you open the box.
You pick up the transparent, glass butt plug. It has a row of three circular beads, from small to big, on the end of it. You feel tingles of arousal at the thought of the sensation it’ll give you.
You have a feeling Rafe will get you to explore every toy and kink that exists.
“Is there anything you’re not into?” you ask him with amusement.
“Sharing,” Rafe replies. You meet his eyes again.
“So, if I asked you for a threesome…?” you tease.
“Get on your knees,” he says, shaking his head.
“That’s a no,” you laugh. You wouldn’t want to share him, either.
Your knees sink onto your bed, hips in the air and chest on your pillow. You look back, watching Rafe sit up and run his hand over your ass.
“Such a nice fucking ass,” he praises. “You like when I play with it, baby?”
You answer with a nod, pushing back on his hand. His palm smooths down the curve of your cheek. When his finger presses up against your asshole, your breath hitches.
You feel Rafe shift behind you and you lay your forehead down against your pillow, eyes shut in anticipation.
Pressing up against your bed, you can feel the cum he left all over your chest sticking to your sheets.
His finger slowly buries into your asshole and your toes curl. You hear him spit, his hot saliva dripping down your opening.
Rafe starts to slowly work his finger in and out of you. You squeeze your eyes, the pressure so gratifying.
He pulls out, surprising you with the sensation of his hot tongue against you.
“Oh, fuck,” you whisper, bucking forward.
He chuckles, his breath warm, clearly satisfied from your reaction. His tongue flattens and rolls against you, lapping, granting you a sensual pleasure you’ve never felt before. His hands roughly grip your asscheeks, spreading them apart to give him more access of you.
“You like that?” Rafe murmurs, continuing to lick you. “I knew you would.”
You start to roll your hips, already getting painfully turned on after cumming just a few minutes ago.
His tongue is firm and hot and wet against you, and when he pulls back to finger you again, you groan from need, curiosity getting the best of you.
“Put the toy in,” you whisper. “Please?”
“I love how fucking needy you are,” he rasps. The fact that Rafe loves something about you makes you smile into the pillow.
You hear the drawer of your nightstand roll and the sound of a cap being opened. Moments later, he presses the cool, lubed tip of the plug up against you and you bite your lip at the sweet pleasure.
He wraps a reassuring hand around your ankle while he pushes it into your ass, the first bead now inside you.
“You’re taking it so fucking good, princess,” he praises. “I knew you’d love getting your ass filled like this.”
He slowly pushes the second bead into you, the sensation of being stretched open then closed again making your pussy clench with need.
“That’s two, baby,” Rafe tells you. “You like how it feels?”
“I fucking love it,” you moan.
“You gonna use this toy for me on camera?”
“Yes, baby,” you promise. “Anything you want.”
“You’ll never say no to me, huh?” You can hear the smile in his voice. The third bead, the biggest, starts to push open your asshole, digging into you. Your ass hugs the smooth, wet glass of the toy tightly.
You take a sharp breath in. Rafe squeezes your ankle.
“You can do it,” he says. “This is the last one.”
You feel him shuffle his weight behind you. He slowly digs his cock into your pussy at the same time that he pushes the last of the toy into you.
You let out an uncontrollable moan, the double penetration elating.
“You look so fucking hot like this,” Rafe groans. “Your ass full and your pussy full… fuck.”
“It feels so good,” you groan, the desperation in your own voice surprising you.
Rafe’s hands settle on your hips, fingers pressing down hard. Your asshole clenches around the toy while your pussy swallows his cock and you don’t think this moment could get any better.
“Put that toy on your clit,” he orders you. A thrill rushes through you. You lift your head to find the rose toy close by and turn it on, sinking your cheek back into your pillow while you hold it against your clit.
The combination of his cock in your pussy, the plug in your ass, the toy sucking your clit is almost too much pleasure, making your head spin.
Your muscles tense and your blood runs hot as he starts to rock in and out of you. His thrashes quickly build up in intensity, the lewd noises of him panting and pounding into your soaked pussy filling your small bedroom.
You didn’t think you could reach an orgasm again this quickly, but the surge of pleasure racks you, making you twitch under him. The moan that spills out of you is so damn loud, even with the pillow muffling you, that it surprises you.
You drop the toy, your body weakening.
As you come down from the high, you can’t hold yourself up, starting to go limp, but Rafe’s hands on your hips keep you steady and propped up, continuing to pound into you.
“Stay up,” he mutters. “I’m not fucking done with you.”
Your thighs are burning in pain, but you obey and let him use you for as long as he needs to. He’s lost his rhythm, his thrusts getting sloppier, until he finally comes inside you with a tumble of breathy, dragged fuck’s rolling out of his mouth.
He finally releases you and you fall to your side, feeling him slip out of you, his cum dribbling out of your pussy.
“Shit,” you hear Rafe say in pleasure. You don’t even have the strength to look up at him. Your body is numb from elation as you clutch your pillow for a feeling of stability.
You don’t know how you’ll get up. You don’t even know your own name.
“You wanna keep this in?” Rafe says behind you.
“Huh?” you breathe.
“Damn, baby,” he laughs. “You’re fucked out.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyelids fluttering. You feel him slowly pull the plug out of you, making your back arch. Consciousness floats away from you and you fall into a deep sleep.
You wake up under your covers, lying on your side, your skin feeling sticky and damp.
You shuffle onto your back, elbow nudging against Rafe’s firm body. You see him sitting up using his phone, wearing just his boxers, leaning against your bed frame.
“You’re here,” you say, surprised he stayed. He looks down at you, his smirk inciting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.
“Had to make sure I didn’t kill you,” he says. You cover your eyes with your hands and laugh.
“That was fucking crazy,” you say, nudging him playfully. You realize his skin is wet, water droplets scattered across his muscular chest. “Did you shower?”
“Yeah.”
“Who said you could use my shower?” you joke.
“Huh,” he mutters. “You let me fuck you any way I want, but I have to ask to use a shower?”
You can’t help but laugh again.
“How long was I asleep?” you ask.
“Like twenty minutes?”
You find your phone on your nightstand to see it’s almost midnight.
You start to sit up, your muscles sore. You realize that Rafe placed your blanket over you and put a pillow beneath your head. And he stayed.
Your heart twists when you look at him. The dangerous thought that maybe he feels something for you hits you hard.
“You can go home if you want,” you say impulsively. “I’m gonna shower, too.”
He nods and sits up, looking completely unaffected. Even though you told him to leave, it hurts that he didn’t insist on staying the night. Fuck. This is getting messy.
He leaves and you try not to think about him while you shower. You fall asleep in his t-shirt.
The next day, you’re in your second class, dreading the quiz you have tomorrow, when a text buzzes on your phone.
Rafe: hey
You reply: hey
Rafe: send a nude
You try not to laugh and reply: i’m in class. u can wait til tonight
Rafe: what if i cant
You: then you have a problem
Rafe: ok i have a problem. now what
You smile to yourself.
You: my contact pic on ur phone is a nude. and u have videos. work with what u have
Rafe: what are u wearing
You: are u trying to sext with me right now
Rafe: yeah. dont act like you dont want it
You have to admit to yourself that he’s got you there.
Rafe: i just came back from the gym
A photo comes in and you lower your phone so nobody around you can see.
He’s standing in front of his bedroom mirror, the same mirror you’ve cleaned so many times, the image making your stomach twist with desire.
Rafe’s phone is below his face, showing the planes of his muscled chest, the valleys of his abs prominent. The large bulge under his shorts is so hot that you want to skip the rest of your classes and invite him to your place to fuck you for hours.
He knows he looks good.
You decide to mess with him a bit.
You: going to the gym makes u hard?
Rafe: dont fuck around. u know u make me hard
You have to squeeze your legs together. You decide to spill exactly what you’re thinking, recalling a day from a few weeks ago.
You: one time you came home from the gym while i was working and you looked so good that i almost jumped you
Rafe: u shouldve
Rafe: i want u to jump me every day
You: oh i know. how many times have we fucked at this point?
Rafe: lost count
You: me too
Rafe: did you like that toy up your ass last night
You: so much that i fucking passed out, rafe. btw im running out of drawer space with all the toys you’re buying me
Rafe: find more space
You: because it’s that easy
Rafe: ur such a brat sometimes
You: aw :( i want to be a brat ALL the time
Rafe: how have i not fucked that attitude out of you yet
You: you still havent given up on that?
You type out and send a second text running purely on impulse, unable to control your jealousy and insecurities at this point.
You: you might need to find a nicer girl for yourself
Rafe: noo
You wish you knew which one of your texts he’s answering.
You: no to what?
Rafe: dont need a nicer girl
You feel your cheeks heat up. Is it crazy to think that you’re more to him than just someone he’s fucking?
You: what are you gonna make me do tonight
Rafe: cum
You shake your head to yourself. You realize the professor has gone through quite a few slides at this point and you feel totally lost.
You: deal. stop making me horny. i have to pay attention
When you make it back home, a few of the items Rafe bought you last night sit packaged in front of your door. Being showered in presents is still a foreign feeling and you hate to wonder if Rafe will eventually get bored of spoiling you like this.
At 10 pm, you’re on your bed in just panties, in front of your laptop and thinking about how you have a new one on its way.
figure8 has joined the chat.
figure8: you gave me blue balls
You laugh.
“I can’t send you nudes while I’m in class, Rafe,” you tell him. “Unless you want me to get naked in front of strangers again?
figure8: not funny
figure8 has tipped you $100.
“What was that for?” you ask.
figure8: to remind you that you only get naked for me
You’re smiling so wide that you think he must know the effect he has on you. There’s no way Rafe doesn’t know how charming he is. You bet he’s seen this exact type of smile on lots of other girls.
“What can I do for you tonight, baby?” you ask.
figure8: straddle your pillow
You follow his instructions, bringing your pillow in front of you and getting up on your knees to put it between your legs.
You sink down on the lush material, sighing.
figure8: can u ride it for me?
You plant your hands in front of you, arms squeezing your tits together, as you slowly start to rock. The friction of the pillow and your panties immediately gives you a sense of pleasure, making you softly moan.
figure8: makes ur pussy feel good huh?
“Yes, baby,” you reply.
figure8: keep riding it. dont cum
You tighten your legs around the pillow, a rush spreading across your body. It’s not enough stimulation, but you won’t complain.
You’re waiting for his next instruction, but he’s not typing anything. You bite your lip as you continue to grind, starting to get impatient.
Finally, he sends a message.
figure8: ur gonna ride my thigh like that
The promise thrills you.
figure8 tipped you $1000.
figure8: im taking you out. be ready
figure8 has left the session.
You stop rocking your body immediately. Taking you out?
You’re not sure what to put on, so you settle on a short dress that you never wear and take off your panties. You figure Rafe will like the easy access.
Thankfully, it’s a warmer night so when you finally step out of your building, you’re comfortable.
When you settle in his Range Rover, you notice that his car smells like him. The scent of his cologne and his shampoo dances over your nose.
Rafe’s eyes trail down your body, his big hand curled around the steering wheel. A slow song is playing on his speakers.
“You have to be fucking kidding,” he mutters, jaw tightening.
“What?” you ask with a smile, pulling on your seatbelt. “Is this too slutty?”
“Is it too slutty,” he repeats with a scoff. He puts the car in drive, then puts his hand on your bare thigh. “Goddamn.”
Anticipation burns in you as Rafe drives to the beach and parks in the corner of a desolate lot. He’s quiet, which makes you all the more eager to see what he has planned.
“Get on my lap,” he orders.
You lean over the console to straddle him in the tight quarters. Your ass hits the steering wheel, accidentally honking the horn, startling you.
Rafe laughs in that sweet, innocent way you’ve only heard a few times.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you say, even though you’re giggling.
“I can’t put the seat any further back,” he tells you. Of course he can’t, maxing out the space he can get with his tall frame.
You look down at him, pressing your palms on the sides of his neck. In the darkness of the car, you can still make out his beautiful features.
“Got bored of my room?” you ask, teasing. You should have expected he’d want to have his way with you somewhere semi-public again.
“I’m gonna fuck you in more than just a bed,” he replies.
Rafe’s blue eyes drift down to your lips, his hands pressing into your thighs. When he drops his fingers to meet your naked pussy, your breath hitches.
“Holy fuck,” he groans, nearly a whimper, clearly surprised you’re not wearing underwear. He greedily spreads your lips apart and dips a finger inside of you immediately, slipping in with ease. You’re starved for him.
“I’ve been thinking about this pussy all fucking day,” he groans, his other hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you forward.
He’s starved for you, too. Rafe’s open-mouthed kisses are hot and hungry and unrelenting.
Even though the parking lot is empty, the thrill of potentially being caught is so fucking hot.
You hate the feeling of him taking his hands off of you. He shifts under you and you prop yourself up on your knees the best you can while he undoes his jeans and pulls them down as far as he can.
His hands feverishly hike up your dress and he settles you onto his warm thigh, your pussy pressing up against his soft skin.
“Fuck,” you whisper.
“Ride it,” he tells you. “You’re doing all the work tonight. I’m not helping.”
You start to grind on him and the sensation of your folds spreading and curving on his taut thigh is fucking breathtaking. You’ve never felt each other like this.
Your foreheads are pressed together, your exhales tangling with each other in the warm air. He flexes his thigh for you, giving you more rigidity.
One of Rafe’s hands drops from your waist and he shuffles for something in the console, keeping his eyes on you.
Eventually, you notice he’s holding a necklace, and with how tightly pressed you are against him and how dark it is, you can’t see it. You just feel him put the cool chain around your neck, a pendant resting on your chest.
“Stay still for a second,” he says.
He looks past your shoulder to watch the clasp and close it. The feeling of Rafe wanting you to use him like this, to rub yourself on him, while he places yet another gift on you makes you almost delirious.
His hands find your waist to encourage you to move again. The windows are fogging up as you writhe on top of him. It feels fucking amazing, but you don’t want to finish like this.
“Can I cum on your cock?” you whisper. “Please?”
He breathes out another scoff that sounds like he’s in disbelief. It’s a thrill that simply asking him for what you want makes him behave like he’s in awe of you.
Rafe pushes against your waist to guide you to sit up and you watch as his hand pulls his cock out of his boxers. He grips the base, holding himself up for you.
You sink down on him and you both breathe in sharply at the pleasure.
The car starts to rock as you ride him raw, wrapping around his dick. The way he curves inside of you is absolutely perfect.
“You love this cock, don’t you, princess?” he rasps.
“Yes, baby.” Your voice is so fucking desperate. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“I make you so sore and you still wanna fuck me again and again,” he mutters. “Fucking obsessed with me. I fucking own this pussy.”
He smoothes a thumb against your clit, drawing circles on you. Your groan is broken and shaky when you start to tremble on top of him.
You can’t believe how fast he can make you cum. He’s been learning the mechanics of your body, the shit that makes you lose your mind, and takes full advantage of it.
“I’m gonna cum,” you say, continuing to bounce on him through the shattering orgasm.
“Keep riding it,” Rafe instructs. “Good fucking girl.”
Your pussy spasms around him, fluttering and even through the desire to slow down, you keep grinding on his hard cock.
His hand finds your neck and he squeezes as you start to drain the cum out of him, hot liquid pulsing inside of you.
Bright lights flash across the car and you urgently sit off of him, settling in the passenger seat. Another car simply drives past and you let out a breath of relief.
“You get scared?” he laughs.
“I told you not to laugh at me,” you say breathlessly. You look down to see the moisture between your legs is dripping on the seat.
“Shit, sorry,” you say, arching your back to pull your dress down.
“Don’t be sorry for that,” he says. His eyes dart down to your chest. “It looks good on you.”
You look down and now that you have the space, you can see the necklace. It’s a thin, silver chain with an ‘R’ pendant, encrusted with shiny diamonds. You’re already sure that this is the most expensive thing you’ve ever worn.
“Don’t want you to forget who you belong to,” he says with a smirk, his voice low.
“Rafe, this is…” You hear your heart pounding. You’re not sure what it is.
“You like it?” he asks. A shaky exhale escapes your lips.
Is this just tending to his fantasy of owning you or is it something more?
He acts like such a fucking boyfriend sometimes. Maybe there’s a world where Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend is a maid barely making it through college, instead of a girl just as wealthy and privileged as him.
The feeling of hope, of imagining him being yours and yours only, of imagining him doing more than just fucking you, is addictive.
“Thank you,” is all you can say.
“Looked good while you were riding me,” he mumbles with a hint of amusement in his voice.
You meet Rafe’s eyes again and you know no matter what the hell he does to you, whether he ends up breaking your heart or not, you won’t regret a single second you’ve spent with him.
{ read part ten here }
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#obx smut#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe fanfiction#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe x you#rafe smut#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader
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succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie
summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.
toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.
cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words
༊*·˚
ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.
she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?
ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.
“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.
“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.
“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.
after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.
she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.
you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.
you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.
you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.
you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.
you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”
she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.
you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.
you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.
ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.
you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.
“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.
༊*·˚
I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.
signed: ellie williams
#wlw#lesbian#ellie williams#the last of us#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#loser ellie#ellie williams tlou2#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader
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