#36. walls up baby!

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

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

[ode2rin]

petty!rin is so baby girl i love writing him as much as i love clingy!rin | warnings: profanity and lil ooc | mentions of food

itoshi rin, likes to believe that he is one rational man. 

he truly is. he is a man grounded with rationality, the real definition of calm and quiet. he prides himself on his ability to be stoic and composed at all costs.

he is one to be blunt, approach what’s wrong head on with his words that bleeds. never to cower, never one to hesitate. 

truly indeed, itoshi rin is a rational man.

so, why the fuck is he in the kitchen, tightening all jars that he could see?

apparently, when rin is faced with the seemingly impossible mission of getting you to talk to him after a small (he thinks so) disagreement, all rationality goes out the window.

suddenly, he finds himself overcome with a desperate need to hear your voice, to mend whatever rift has come between you. and so, he does the only thing he can think of at this point: he heads to the kitchen.

there, he methodically tightens every jar he can find, each twist of the lid a small act of rebellion against his own calm demeanor. he puts your favorite snacks up high on the shelf, just out of reach, hoping that you'll come to him for help.

on a normal day, rin would never do this. this is nothing but a foolish, incredibly ridiculous, absurd plan. he would never do something like this, but he exhausted every rational option he had at his disposal. he already asked you if you wanted takeout (you just looked at him, you never say no to takeout), asked if you knew where his cleats were because he couldn't find them (of course he knows where they are), and his last resort was to play your favorite show in the living room in the hopes that you'd join him on the couch.

nothing worked. zero successful attempts. nada.

you are officially ignoring him for 5 hours and 36 minutes (not that he’s counting, the wall clock in the living room is just obnoxiously big for its purpose and it keeps reminding him of the time, yup, that must be it). 

and rin thinks if this goes on for much longer, you might suggest sleeping in the guest room out of stubborness. no, rin thought of the idea. 

there’s no way in hell would rin sleep away from you. that’s just vile torture in his book. a cold ass bed without you? sleep without you in his arms? (he might genuinely prefer to be locked in a room with shidou than have that). that is atrocious, he needs to prevent that from happening, or else he would really lose it.

seemingly content with his scheme, rin places himself on one of the bar stools at the kitchen countertop to wait, boring holes into the bedroom door you've isolated yourself in. if this doesn't work, pinning you down until you utter a word to him may be the next best (worst) option.

after what felt like an eternity (it was ten minutes, max) to rin, you finally emerged from your shared bedroom with a purpose, and that is to fill your grumbling stomach. making your way in the kitchen, you ignored how rin is intently watching every step you make. 

you open one of the cupboards to get your leftover bag of chips from yesterday, only to be met by an empty shelf. looking up, you see the said chips placed two shelves higher than usual. 

when did that even get there?

hastily, you reached out for a stool to reach it. rin can’t help but let out a silent huff at the sight of you standing on a stool. that stool must be fucking with him, because why is it conveniently there? 

rin shifts expectantly on his seat when he sees you looking for the jar of dip you always combine with your chips. and the heavens must be siding with him as he sees you annoyed and struggling to open the said dip.

“let me.”

you were about to deny his offer when you felt his chest already pressing on your back as he reached out for the culprit of your annoyance.

“thanks.” you timidly uttered, but rin didn’t move an inch from where he was pressing on you.

instead, rin tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to your temple. you felt the side of his jaw on your temple, his other hand rubbing smooth circles on your shoulders, tapping on it three times.

you shut your eyes tightly at the feel of his touch, "rin," you started, but you didn't know how to continue. 

“i know. i was in the wrong,” he trailed off, tapping three times once again on your exposed collarbone as if the gesture was a language you two only understand, “i’m sorry, y/n,” he said, voice laced with remorse.

you looked over your shoulder to meet rin's gaze. his eyes were soft, and his expression held a hint of guilt that you rarely saw. he seemed to be waiting for your response, and you took a deep breath before answering.

“i only want what's best for you, rin. seeing you exhaust yourself like that hurts me,” you explained, turning to face him and resting your hands on his chest. “and i'm sorry for being immature and ignoring you. it wasn't the right way to handle things.”

immature? only if you knew.

he tightened his grip on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “i hate it when we fight," he mumbled, his voice muffled. “it hurts when you don’t look at me.”

taken aback by rin's confession, you struggled to find the right words to alleviate what you’ve done. instead, you tapped three times in his chest, right where his heart beats.

in which you earned a - “not more than i do,” reply from rin, suggesting he understood.

“as you should, rinnie.” you replied with a playful teasing smile.

ah, there it was - the smile rin loved so much. the smile that always promises him that it will be fine - you two will be fine.

if it meant earning that smile over and over again, rin wouldn’t mind throwing out every ounce of rationality from his body. 

he’ll never tell you about it though, you’d tease him to death. besides, if you knew, how could he use the same scheme again?

note. i love this trope in books so much that it's everything i think of lately (˘･_･˘)

#☁️ my ode to you #once again #I AM CRAZY ABOUT ITOSHI RIN #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

[earlgreyflowers]

and i conclude with 36 + lando

(ofc no pressure on any of the asks, feel free to ignore any/all of them if they don’t tickle ur fancy hehe)

It’s winter break and you’ve never been more grateful to have Lando home, except for the fact that all he's done is game with Max.

Every. Single. Night.

First it was Rocket League, and then Counter Strike, and then Tarkov, and now you were sat in the background watching him yell at Fall Guys. Part of you had to admit that it was comical watching him try and fail so many times, but you wanted attention. There was only so much watching you could do, you're just a girl after all. You silently make your way over to Lando's gaming chair, draping yourself over the side to rest your chin on his shoulder. "How much longer will you be baby?" You whisper, lifting his headset slightly so he hears you.

"Like an hour maybe, I'm not sure. Why? Are you hungry? I can order food?" He suggests, eyes flicking briefly from the screen to look at you. "Don't need food." You whine, pouting lightly before placing a gentle kiss to Lando's neck. He swallows thickly, "Babe my friends can all hear, what do you want me to do?" He murmurs, muting himself whilst he waits for the next round. "Want you Lando." You tell him, continuing to press kisses across his neck, travelling along his jaw, feeling it clench with each soft touch of your lips.

"Just let me finish this level and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times." He tells you, pleading eyes under his glasses. You sigh, "Fine. But I'm holding you to that." He winks up at you before unmuting himself and picking up his controller to play the next round. You lay yourself on the centre of the bed, zoning out on your phone as Lando continues playing. You hear the occasional yell or slam of the controller, nothing unusual when he's gaming. You get lost in the world of Instagram, swiping through Daniel's end of season .jpg post.

You forget about Lando's promise, that is until you feel his warm hands on your thighs. You jump with the touch and he chuckles at you, "Gonna let me fulfil my promise baby?" He whispers, his warm breath tickling the apex of your thighs. Lando smirks when you raise your hips to allow him to remove your pyjama shorts. "Thank you princess." He smiles, kissing your lips before returning to his position between your legs. His lips explore your inner thighs, hands gently prying your legs apart. Soft whimpers escape your lips at the light scratch of his new facial hair.

His lips cover practically every inch of your thighs before his tongue darts out to flick at your entrance, collecting the arousal that's collected there. He starts slow, snaking his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking gently as his hand rests on your pubic bone, keeping your hips still. His lips encase your clit, causing you to moan out as he sucks lightly, his tongue swirling and flicking. He eats you out like a man starved, uncaring about the way your arousal coats his mouth or the way his spit begins to soak you further.

He brings his finger to your entrance, circling it around the pulsing hole before pushing in. Your hips buck as your back arches away from the mattress, Lando moaning against your pussy at the way you clench around his finger. He curls his finger, his tongue working overtime on your clit as he slips a second finger in to join the first.

"Fuck Lando, oh my god." You moan, hand gripping the back of his head, tangling in his curls. He continues his ruthless pace drawing your first orgasm from you unbelievably quickly, but he doesn't stop. He slows his pace, lightly guiding you through your orgasm. Once he feels the pulsing of your walls slow he curls his fingers once more, attacking your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You scream out in overstimulation, your legs shaking as his hand becomes sticky with arousal. His hips begin to rut into the mattress, desperate for an ounce of friction. Your first orgasm hardly fades as the second one barrels into you, your walls clenching Lando's fingers so tight he could swear they would break.

This time he does pull away, encouraged by the way you frantically push at his head. You use your grip on his head to pull his lips to yours, he groans in your mouth at the feeling of your tongue. His groan turns into a whimper as you cup his bulge, massaging gently. He wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling your hand away, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"I said at least three didn't I?" He smirks, kissing his way back down your stomach to finish his meal.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #lando smut #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 smut #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fanfiction

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 36

part 1 | part 35 | ao3

cw: hot girl shit

Steve practically yanks Eddie off stage the second the show ends. Eddie stumbles into their cheering group with a happy, startled oof, and Robin squeals, “You were so good!!” and amidst the circle of people pressing in to give Eddie a congratulatory group hug, Steve hooks a thumb over his shoulder and lies his fucking ass off.

“They said you need to move your van.” He points to the nearest employee he can pin this on and starts dragging Eddie from the fray, saying, “It’s parked in a fire zone.” 

“Oh, no shit? Uh- okay.” Eddie’s breathless and fluttery from the excitement of the show, hands trembling a little as he pats his pockets down to find his key. Steve tugs him by the wrist and leads him out the side door — a dirty, dark brick alley, the walls soot-soaked and dim.

The street lights barely reach down the snow-covered path behind the dumpster, and when Steve’s sure they’re in a secluded enough spot, he slams into Eddie with a full body hug, arms wrapped tight around his middle. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie laughs.

“You’re so hot,” Steve mumbles into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. His face is pressed against his chest, hot and damp from exertion, and he breathes deep; hugs him harder. Splays his palms over his ribs just to feel how they move when he breathes. 

Eddie’s arms come around his shoulders, a sly smile in his voice like he’s got Steve all figured out. “There wasn’t shit wrong with my parking job, was there?” 

Steve looks up from his hiding spot and shakes his head no.

“Oh, you’re fucking cute,” he smirks. He shuffles them around until Steve’s back hits the wall, and he brings his hands up to either side of Steve’s head. Bracketing him. Caging him in. 

Steve licks his lips; loses the rhythm of his breath. The moon’s a crescent overhead, obscured by heavy clouds, and it’s dark and it’s cold and undeniably nighttime, but Eddie’s eyes are shining — the first rays of dawn through the edge of the deep woods. 

“Is it morning yet?” Steve whispers.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says.

He tilts his head and leans in, lips hovering close enough for Steve to taste him, but he doesn’t kiss him yet. “You had something you wanted to ask me?” 

“Eddie, please,” Steve breathes in the dwindling space between their mouths.

Eddie presses in harder; sets their hips flush, cocks brushing through their jeans. “Please what, sweet thing?”

“Please kiss me.” 

Eddie groans and devours him, the brick rough against Steve’s back as Eddie licks over his mouth. Steve whimpers and lets him in, lets their tongue meet in the middle, and it’s hot and rough and perfect; breaths fogging up between them, kisses wet and messy and deep. Their bodies smash together like two colliding stars, heat and destruction and pressure and—

“Let me- let me-” Steve pants, pushing back against Eddie’s hold. Eddie stays close, gives him just enough space to adjust where his clothes are riding up and his skin is scraping against the brick, and then he sways back in, hips lining up, cocks hard between them. They moan at the same time, and Eddie kisses him deep, kisses him wet, hard enough that Steve’s teeth carve indents into the inside of his lips. 

When he finally pulls back, he takes Steve’s bottom lip with him; lets it go with a soft pop, and Steve’s blood burns inside him. Begs to be let out, to boil with filthy friction, to birth a new universe.

“Fuck me,” he pleads softly, leaning in for another kiss. Greedy for more: for Eddie’s tongue down his throat, for his hand down his briefs, everything wet and warm and wanting.

Eddie moves just out of reach; cat and mouse and he’s the cat. “Yeah?” he teases, moving his mouth to Steve’s good ear. “You sure, baby? Right here? Right now?”

His hand slides between Steve’s legs, cupping him through tight denim, toying with the zipper. “You want me to take these off? Fuck you right here in the alley where anyone could see?” 

“Oh, fuck.” Steve’s head knocks against the wall, his throat convulsing as desire floods him, because he wants he wants he wants. Wants to make commotion; wants to cause a scene where anyone could see. Where Nancy could see.

“Yeah,” he pants, writhing against Eddie’s hand. “Want it. Want whatever you’ll give me.” 

Eddie surges forward again; kisses him like he couldn’t wait anymore — licking hot into his mouth and behind his teeth, choking him on his tongue — and Steve bucks up into it and moans into his mouth. He doesn’t need oxygen. He doesn’t need anything but this, right here, for the rest of his life until his fucking lungs give out.

The door to the alley creaks open just a crack.

They both turn to look, wide-eyed and panicked as they pull apart, and when the door shuts again without anyone stepping through it, they look back at each other and burst out into laughter. High, hysterical peels of it; giddy and nervous at having almost gotten caught. 

“Shit,” Eddie snickers into the crook of Steve’s neck. “That was- that was—” 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, breathless as he rests his hands loosely on Eddie’s lower back, willing himself to calm down before he gets himself in trouble. “Think the idea of getting caught is way hotter than the reality.” 

“Goddamn was the idea hot, though,” Eddie says. “Jesus.”

He adjusts himself in his jeans and moves to Steve’s side, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Can’t believe you let me rough you up behind a dumpster.” He’s smirking, but there’s a twinge of concern beneath it, a tightness around his eyes as he brings a hand up to Steve’s jaw. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve smiles. “I’m great, actually.”

Means it, is the crazy thing, despite the cold and the scratches on the tender skin of his back.

He gives Eddie a reassuring nudge. “Sorry I took six days to ask you to kiss me.” 

“Thank you,” Eddie huffs. “I was going fucking crazy over here.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he admits. His pretty cheeks go pink. “Pretty sure I drove Jeff nuts all break. But hey, at least now I can tell him Operation Woo Your Man was a success.”

Oh, my god. “Robin told you about that?”

“…Yeah?” Eddie gives him a cute, confused look. “I mean, it was her idea. Wait, did she tell you about it?”

“Uh.”

“Aw, son of a bitch!” Eddie kicks a crushed can down the alley. “Damn it, Buckley, the song was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Hold on; hold on.” Steve pushes off the wall, has to pace a bit, because, “Operation Woo Your Man was my thing. I’m supposed to be wooing you.”

“Oh, baby, I’m wooed,” Eddie licks his teeth, and Steve would find it charming except-

“No. Dude.” Oh, that conniving little— “I think she played us. Like- like I think she called both of us to—”

“Oh, holy shit,” Eddie barks a laugh, hopping in a tight circle and clapping his hands as he catches on to what Steve’s saying. “Wow. You think she’d want to join a Hellfire campaign some time? That’s goddamn diabolical.”

He’s smiling so big, and his teeth are chattering a bit from the cold, and Steve drags him in by a belt loop; wraps him up in a warm hug. “I’m sure I could get her to,” he says softly. “She owes me one for this.”

“Oh, yeah?” They’re about to kiss again.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, dinguses!!!” the diabolical woman herself shouts down the alley as she throws open the side door with a heavy, metallic clang. “It does not take this long to move a vehicle! How much longer do I have to guard this door?”

Steve hollers “fuck off, Robbie” at the same time that Eddie answers “five to seven business days!” and they fall against each other laughing, Eddie’s shoulders shaking as he giggles into Steve’s chest.

“Seriously!” Robin hisses, risking a peek around the edge of the dumpster. “Wrap it up, you two; I’m cold.”

Steve gives Eddie one last peck and leads them back inside.

—

part 37

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic

[adore-laur]

MOTHER’S DAY

— a self-explanatory blurb from the dadrry universe 🌷

——

Toss. Turn. Sigh. Repeat.

Postpartum anxiety kept hitting you in explosive bursts like crash cymbals. Intrusive worries about whether your newborn was breathing or not ruthlessly stormed your brain. Surging heart palpitations that ebbed and flowed like the ocean tide weren't helping your internally erratic state. 

She hadn't wailed those gut-wrenching cries in over an hour. It was a brief slot of time to catch up on your precious slumber, yet your melatonin was overrun by an influx of cortisol. Due to your ruptured sleep schedule, there was also a stinging sensation behind your eyelids. It felt like chlorine or lemon juice had seeped into your sockets ever since day and night swapped places. 

The speckled sky of stars trickled through the linen drapes, painting moonbeams on the bedroom carpet and walls. By the looks of it, you'd undoubtedly be awake to behold the moment they metamorphosed into golden rays of dawn. 

Heart thumping, stomach churning, and chest constricting, you surrendered your chance of a reposeful night of rest and silently slid out of bed. Harry was gently snoring on his side, facing away from you and dead to the world. Lucky him.

You padded over to the bassinet across the room. The moon made it visible enough to see the tiny bundle that was half you and half your husband sleeping there. Your trembling hand reached down and lightly rested on your daughter's belly. It had become a habit lately. Your eyes couldn't help but snap open in the middle of the night, the insomnia-induced anxiety getting you on your feet to check if the human you were responsible for was still alive. 

When you felt her fast breaths, relief immediately flooded your bloodstream. You stayed by her until you were at ease with the steady rise and fall of her chest, then eventually tucked yourself back under the covers and leaned against the headboard. You were wide awake now, and it seemed like it would be another all-nighter. Jealousy festered inside you because of Harry and how he could effortlessly sleep through the night without panic. He'd been so gracious with heaving himself out of bed and calming the baby whenever it was his turn, a true natural when you needed it most. And during those instances, you pretended to be asleep so you didn't worry him. It was hard enough soothing one agitated person, let alone two. 

The clock on the nightstand flicked from 2:36 to 2:37. You bit your fingernails to pass the time. The weight and warmth of Harry beside you pulled you back down to earth, reminding you that you weren't doing this on your own. He was cheering you on, on the same page, and loving you unconditionally. 

Almost as if he could hear your reeling thoughts about him, you heard his snores get cut short by a deep inhale before his hand subconsciously flopped against your thigh. Fatigued fingers felt around until his warm, heavy palm spread on your skin, giving it a tender squeeze. He then rolled onto his stomach with a raspy grunt and turned his head to face you. 

In the faint moonlight, puffy eyes and a drowsy smile said hello. They greeted you with a gentleness that washed away the burdensome stones on your chest. He made you feel calm. Just one glance at him was the only solace you needed. 

He was a tired, tired boy. Technically, he was a grown man, but moments like these revealed that he was just a boy adjusting to the wearing reality of parenthood.

"Sorry for waking you," you whispered, raking your fingers through his disheveled hair. It was still a little damp from his nightly shower. 

"Did I sleep through her cries?" Harry murmured hoarsely, his eyelids drooping until they shut again. 

"No. I just got up to check on her."

He hugged your leg like it was a pillow. "Why? What happened?" 

You could've lied. Or you could've given him what he always asked of you: the whole and honest truth. The latter was the wisest choice, considering he could read you like a family recipe. 

"I had to make sure she was breathing," you admitted. 

Harry was eerily quiet. You thought he might have fallen back asleep, but suddenly, the room illuminated in a yellow glow from the bedside lamp being switched on. It strained your vision for a few seconds, and after blearily blinking through it, you looked at Harry to find him sitting up with the silk sheets bunched around his waist. He yawned loudly, then scooted over to draw you into his body. A trace of citrus aftershave still lingered on his skin. 

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his lips moving against your temple. 

Your cheek melted on his warm, bare shoulder. "Ever since we brought her home, my anxiety has been eating me alive at night. I'm constantly worried about her, even when she's not crying." 

Harry planted chaste kisses on your face. Through slow, sleepy affection, he said, "She's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen." 

"You don't know that." 

"I know she's safe and sound, all snug in the bassinet six feet away from us." When you didn't respond, he added, "If you want, we can move it next to your side of the bed." 

You clutched his hand, loving the smoothness of his palm and how large it was compared to yours. "Can we? Please? I want her close just in case." 

Nodding, Harry brought your joined hands up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. "Let's do it tomorrow so we don't wake her, yeah? We all need sleep right now." 

"Okay. Can you scratch my back? And talk to me?" 

"Of course, sweetheart. Turn around." 

You did, and it didn't take long for him to lift your shirt so his delicate fingers could stroke along the expanse of your back. Goosebumps spread everywhere as you sank deeper into the mattress. The way his touch could envelop you in a blanket of comfort was miraculous. 

"Your postpartum checkup is in a couple of weeks," Harry mentioned, his mellow voice quickly putting a sleep spell on you. "We'll talk to the doctor about everything that's been going on, okay?" He shifted on the bed. "Listen, I get scared too. All I want is to protect her. When she cries, I feel helpless. But we're learning, aren't we? We'll be professionals by the time we're four kids in." 

You couldn't squash the craziness of his last statement because distant dream waves finally carried you away and let you drift in calm waters for the first time in a long time. 

—— 

A serenade of songbirds awoke you the following morning. Then, it was a slight breeze coming from somewhere. You soon realized there was no familiar dip in the mattress next to you, no blazing hot skin glued to you, and no soft puffs of air against your neck. You firmly decided that you loathed the feeling of a cold and empty bed in the morning. 

Stretching until your joints cracked, you squinted from the blinding sunlight gloriously casting over the side of the bed you lay on. The clock displayed 9:04, which was the latest time you had slept in since your third trimester of pregnancy. On top of the clock was a piece of paper you didn't recall seeing yesterday, the type of paper on which you and Harry wrote grocery items on. The familiar handwriting of your husband, which was a tad illegible but endearing nonetheless, had you reaching out and plucking the note from its place. 

Happy Mother's Day. 

Meet me on the beach when you wake up. Baby has already been changed, fed, and everything in between. Sunday breakfast on the shore, made by yours truly, awaits you. 

I love you so much. Thank you for completing me. 

~ Harry 

It entirely slipped your mind that it was Mother's Day — your first one. You'd been too caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to capture a peaceful moment. Needless to say, you didn't even know what day of the week it was sometimes. Apparently, today was worth celebrating. 

After freshening up and tying a robe around yourself, you trod down the staircase. The late spring weather engulfed your senses as the kitchen came into view. The shutters were swung open, letting in gleaming sunshine and a gentle wind that felt like a welcoming embrace. It lifted your spirits instantly and caused you to temporarily forget about last night's troubles. 

You ventured to the beach area, the sand under your uncovered feet enlivening your drained state. Once the ocean became visible, you quickly stumbled upon an unexpected surprise. Harry, the human epitome of sunshine, stood there holding a tray with a vase of blooming flowers, a cup of steaming tea, and breakfast foods such as a peeled clementine, poached eggs, and a golden-brown waffle drizzled with maple syrup. He was in his pinstriped pajamas with sunglasses covering his eyes. Behind him, your daughter lay in a portable baby dome that shielded her from the sunny sky. She was sleeping on her back, her limbs bent adorably. You didn't recall hearing her cry after you finally managed to doze off last night. 

Barefoot with a radiant smile dimpling his sun-kissed face, Harry met you halfway, setting the tray down on a nearby blanket spread out. His arms opened in invitation. You would have jumped in them if you had the energy, merely because his spontaneous thoughtfulness made you want to tackle him and never let him go—lovingly, of course. 

"Make way for the goddess," he said, taking his sunglasses off and eyeing you up and down. 

Makeup-less, half asleep, and moving at the sluggish speed of a sloth, you felt—and probably looked—far from a goddess. But when your husband looked at you like he wanted to eat you for breakfast instead, the tiniest flicker of confidence sparked inside of you. 

"Good morning," you greeted, smiling softly. 

Harry's hands instinctively splayed on your waist, his fingers digging into the cotton fabric of your robe. He was sporting a dopey expression, and you wondered if he got as little sleep as you did. 

Enduring delirious mornings with him had slowly become your favorite domestic kryptonite. When he'd crack ridiculous jokes amidst a quick, lazy round of sex before the baby interrupted, or when he would shuffle around the kitchen making an insufficient meal while accidentally putting the milk jug in the pantry out of pure exhaustion. 

"Let me guess," he said with an exhale, "you forgot it was Mother's Day?" 

You squeezed him tight and breathed in the faint smell of lavender fabric softener on his pajamas. "Can you blame me? I'm practically a zombie most days." You kissed him slowly, tasting the sweet and sticky syrup residue on his lips. "Mm, but thank you for everything. You take such good care of me." 

"Someone's gotta do it," he told you, earnestness lacing his words. 

"I'm trying, I really am. Motherhood is... very grueling." 

"I know, darling. Whatever you need, let me know, and I'll help as best I can." 

You touched his cheeks, absorbing the sun's heat that graced them. "I want to take care of you too. I notice how tired you are." 

He fell into deep thought, and after staring at you for a moment with his eyes dancing over your entire face, he said, "Let's bring back date nights. When was the last time we went out, just the two of us? We can get someone to babysit, then go out on the town like we used to." 

"Can part of our date night involve taking a nap?" you asked, propping your chin on his chest. 

Harry glanced down at you, his green irises clear and happy. "Absolutely." 

"Sounds like a plan." You laughed at its absurdity. How did we go from 'I can't wait to marry you' to 'I can't wait to nap with you'? What has parenting done to us?" 

He tilted his head with a lopsided grin. "It's made me fall in love with you all over again." 

"Even when there's spit-up on my clothes?" 

"Uh-huh," he said, locking you in his hold. "And when you're burping a cranky baby while eating your first meal of the day well past noon. And when you're breastfeeding while sending work emails, your hair unbrushed, and my shirt hanging off your body. There's nothing sexier." 

Truthfully, he wasn't joking around. And you knew that one day, you'd find simplistic beauty in those things as well. 

"I'm a real sight for sore eyes." 

Harry kissed your forehead, swaying you to the sound of the waves meeting the shore and then receding. "You have no idea." 

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #dadrry #dad!harry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur #mother’s day

[mistydeyes]

Imagine dad!ghost at his daughter's jiu-jitsu/martial arts tournament where she is absolutely demolishing all her opponents.

Ghost and s/o would most definitely be those over-proud parents like Cam and Mitchell from modern family 😭💀

Was wondering if you could write a fic for this??

Y E S thank you so so much for requesting this! first off i love modern family and second who doesn't LOVE a cute lil wholesome moment with the riley family!

a child's eye of the tiger

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summary: It's clear your daughter takes after her father when she absolutely demolishes the competition in her youth jiu jitsu match.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader (established relationship w daughter)

warnings: swearing, violence involved in a jiu jitsu match?

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"What sport is this again?" Simon asked you with a shit-eating grin painted on his face. You slapped his thigh lightly as you adjusted your gaze to find your daughter waiting patiently on the mat. "Jiu-jitsu, Simon," you whispered, "been doing this since reception." You didn't see his reaction but you knew he had a proud fatherlike smile. Despite always asking you these inconsequential questions, he secretly was thoroughly involved in his daughter's life. You tapped your fingers anxiously as you watched the different age groups compete across the dark blue mats. Your daughter sat alone, watching their every move, and stretching her little legs out. "She's definitely your little girl," you whispered to Simon as he put a comforting arm around you.

"Next we have Isla Riley," the announcer called and yours and Simon's cheers drowned out the announcement of her competitor. "Go Isles!" you shouted, ignoring the glares from the surrounding parents. Despite only being six, she sarcastically shook her head before taking her stance. She adjusted her gray and black striped belt as she looked angrily at the other girl in front of her. As soon as the announcer commenced the match, your daughter ran towards the girl, grappling for her legs. You could feel your hands tighten around Simon's as you watched her overpower her and pin the girl to the mat. "She's actually pretty good," Simon beamed as the match continued. Your daughter was then put on her back by the much taller girl and you could feel yourself reacting to their action. "Oh fuck," you said, a little louder than acceptable, and you looked away from the turned heads. Just when you thought your daughter was going to lose the match, your daughter wrapped her legs around the girl's neck and threw her off of her.

"That's my girl," Simon whispered and you could see him smile widely, a rare sight in the Riley household. You were counting the various points your daughter was continuously awarded and it was clear she was in the advantage after her last move. The round continued as your daughter scored for her knee-on-belly, mounting, and passing the guard moves. You could feel yourself clapping when she accomplished the highest-scoring move, the rear mount, and pinned the girl in between her legs and arms. Her heels wrapped around her torso and the girl struggled in her grasp. "I helped her practice that one," you smiled to Simon and you could hear him laugh to himself. As soon as the match started, the 5 minutes were up and the announcer named your daughter the winner with a score of 36. "Let's go Isles!" you shouted and Simon joined with a loud clap that reverberated across the gym walls.

Once she shook her opponent's hand, she ran over to you with her hair in knots and breathing heavily. Simon lifted her up into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her temple. "Happy to be home to see you, baby," he whispered to her as he smoothed out her wild hair. "Did you see I did a take the back?" she excitedly cooed, "I could hear you cheering for me, Mum." You hugged your little family in a warm hug as you celebrated her recent accomplishments. "Want to get out of here?" Simon asked and Isla giddily nodded in response. As you walked out of the gym after a few words with her coach, she held her dad's hand proudly and listed off various sweet shops she wanted to visit. You stood behind them and in a secretive moment, you took a picture of them hand-in-hand. "Glad to have you home, Simon," you whispered before your daughter turned to you and beckoned for you to hurry up. "We're not all athletes here," you joked as you sprinted to walk with your loving daughter and husband.

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sidenote: this is what i pictured w simon and the reader while writing this

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #izzie is drawing #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #izzie is writing

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ 5 in the mornin’, trafalgar law (nsfw)

law never gets mad when you call. even if its to have phone sex with him at 5 in the morning.

only back to drop for my baby daddy’s birthday <3. might feed y’all some more later today i gotta see how tired i am 🙇🏾‍♀️

it nearing 5 in the morning when you’d started to grow restless. usually you pulled all nighters on the night where law had to pull doubles at the hospital, most lasting anywhere from 36 to 48 hours. but no matter how many times he told you to stop waiting up two days straight for him—you didn’t listen.

you were sure that sleep was coming soon. law only worked four days a week, ranging at 96 hours of being head surgeon, and most of that time, you spent it awake, up and waiting for him—you were insane. you checked the time and figured that he’d finally be on his three hour break, permitting him to finally get at least a nap in his office quarters designated for senior doctors.

you began to grow irritable as you felt your body heat up randomly. you couldn’t remember the last time you had sex; it’s been a couple weeks due to how busy both you and law were. though the sun would be coming up soon, you’d felt the sudden urge to masturbate and hopefully release some tension like you usually did in order to sleep, but knew your fingers were nothing in comparison to law’s.

contemplation picked at your brain. you bit your lip, waging a mental war with yourself on what you should do. you were sure law would be napping right now—getting the little bit of sleep he usually did before his next and last surgery at eight in the morning, just a few hours from now. he always answered the phone whenever you called, but you felt so bad for disturbing him, even if it was just to get a nut from the sound of his voice alone.

you decided to try and settle it out yourself in hopes that you could have at least one orgasm before sleep naturally came over you. but with your plush legs spread open to the wall full of pictures of you two, you screwed your eyes shut in frustration when you couldn’t get yourself to cum. twenty minutes had passed by and you were growing annoyed for the lack of a nice orgasm.

finally giving into your nasty desires, you picked up your phone and clicked on law’s contact to facetime, resting the phone on the pillow by your ear, hand still between your hands and rubbing at your clit. you’re breathing heavily when he finally answers.

“hm?” you look over at your phone and notice that law is laying down with near closed eyes, the room to his quarters barely lit. “you alright baby?” his voice is groggy and tired. you felt bad for bothering him.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out. “just wanted to hear your voice is all. go back to sleep.” you’re prepared to hang up and just deal with your orgasm yourself but stopped when law hums in decline.

law opens one eye and furrows his brow as to why he was staring at the ceiling. “it’s alright. you okay?”

you breath out, rubbing your clit at the sound of his voice. even that was enough to get you to cum. “yeah, i’m good. just miss you.”

your man lets out a yawn as he finally sits up a bit and eyes the camera. “i miss you too. you sure you’re okay? you sound like something is bothering you.”

“law, please talk to me,” you whisper softly, “say something sexy, please baby. how was your day at work?”

“it’s fine. had a knee and back surgery today. the back one nearly blew me out from how intricate it was. one wrong move and you could nick an artery in the spinal cord and permanently paralyze the patient…” it doesn’t take long for your doctor boyfriend to hang onto your words once he hears your unsteady breathing grow louder. “you in bed right now?” you hum out a response and nod your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. now law was more awake as the topic of conversation intrigued him. his voice remains low as he thinks about you in all your glory. “you touching yourself?”

“mhm,” you let out. “keep—keep telling me about your day, baby please.”

“you really couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled lowly. it was just like you to be impatient. “thought i told you i’ll deal with you when i get home in a few hours, hm? you know my work days are boring.”

“fuck,” you drew out. it wasn’t unusual for you to be the perverted one in the relationship. law was more of the quiet one but you never had a problem with expressing yourself—oncoming orgasms included. “c-couldn’t wait. g-gonna cum soon.”

your chest is heaving up and down as law responds, dominance slowly peaking into his still hoarse vocie. “alright. you gonna do everything i tell you to, baby?”

you slip your middle finger into your cunt, slowly teasing yourself in hopes of tricking your body into thinking it was law touching you, but your body knew better than that. no one could ever replace the surgeon of death’s hands. “yes daddy, just make me cum please,” you whisper, eyes fully closed now.

the sound of a zipper is being heard from the phone, and you could only assume that law was mirroring your actions in the confinements of his own room, pulling his fat cock out the tent of his pants. with a heavy breath, he mutters, “rub that clit for me. nice and slow, okay, baby? just let me take control.”

you nod your head and do as told, handling your little bud with the utmost care as law would have. a few seconds into doing so, you can’t help but ask, “you touching yourself?”

small grunts and moans from law’s end of the phone tells you all you need to know as he breathes heavily. “no other choice but to,” he grits out, referring to your irresistible personality that only got more attractive during your mutual masturbation sessions. only you could wake the surgeon three hours before his next surgery for some phone sex and an orgasm. “go ahead ‘n put a finger in for me just the way i do it.”

“as long as you rub your thumb over your fat tip,” you whisper, pumping your middle finger in and out of you. “can you do that for me baby? nice and slow.”

“mhm,” law hummed, nodding. “fuck,” he whined lowly. and just like you said, he rolled the D of his right thumb finger right over his reddened tip, sticky with pre-cum as he savored your voice over the phone. “take your tits out. squeeze them just the way you like it.” with your free hand, you opened your robe, revealing your already naked body. “add one more finger.”

you let out a gasp as you feel yourself stretch with the addition of another finger, but not in the same way it does with law’s. “wish i can show you,” you wheeze out. “show you how wet my pussy is for you.”

“i know, mama,” law coos as he talks you through it. “but i’m not there right now so you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own in the mean time. rub your clit clockwise. you know how i do it,”

you frown. “‘s not you, daddy,” you whine, “‘s not gonna work.”

“stop talking and focus,” law’s voice is stern as he practically bites down on his tongue to prevent a loud groan from escaping from his lips. “you wanna call me at 5 in the mornin’ knowin’ i got a surgery to prepare for soon? mhm hmm, shove those fingers up that cunt and be a good girl now.”

you immediately do as told and stuff yourself with another finger. you curve your thumb upward to rub at your clit, causing you to jolt with extra stimulation. “oh fuck,” you whined, kicking ur knees up to the ceiling. you begin to feel a large knot tie in your stomach as you sped up your pace. “keep talking, baby. please.”

“yeah? you like that, mama?” law’s voice is taunting and teasing as he himself begins to lose control of his breathing. “you like it when i talk to you mean like that? you little minx.”

“yes,” you dragged out in a whining tone. “need you so bad, papa, i miss you.” you hadn’t seen your man in four days—of course you were gonna be acting like this.

“fuck,” the young doctor’s straining himself to hear your words. with a few more pumps of his shaft to the sounds of your wet pussy and whiny cries, law finally comes undone, shooting thick ropes of his hot white cum all over his delicate fingers and scrubs.

the proof of his affection continues oozing out the slick red slit of his tip as he bites down on his lip, trying his hardest not to let his sounds travel outside his sleeping quarters. “you gonna cum baby?”

“law, ngh—i’m coming!—“ you’re gasping for air once you finally feel the knot in your stomach come undone once more. fingers soaking up your juices like prunes, your eyes flutter shut when you feel your heart finally slow down. you and your man are both are breathing heavily over the phone when law finally sits up from his position.

“i’m on my way home.”

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐ #trafalgar law x black reader #law x black reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x chubby reader #law x chubby reader #one piece smut #one piece x black reader #one piece x black!reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece law #law one piece #one piece x reader

[screampied]

Vegas x reader when?

‘ VEGAS BABY: I WANNA RIDE ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. you decide to visit las vegas! there, you meet up with a literal girl named vegas—she’s pretty, and walking around with a strap that’s a bit too long for her own good, oops!

wc. 10.6k

warnings. reader x vegas (THE GIRL NOT THE CITY), unprotected sex, she has a strap on, said strap on is like 36 inches and multicolored, thigh riding, spit, she has nipple piercings, overstim, brat!vegas, spanking, fucking on a slot machine

“. . . so,” vegas coos, leaning against the wall with a sly smile. you weren’t from here—las vegas, nevada. it was your twenty first birthday and since you were a simple tourist, why not visit your very first casino? the woman notice how you shift your weight, swiping a thumb against your empty shot glass. she fiddles with the sheeny silver hoops that dangle from her ears before humming. “are you a newcomer?”

“yeah, something like that,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact—she had such a gaze, a soft smile with freckles that bridge over her nose. “are you from here?” and then you look at her shirt near the very right, a tag that reads off the name of ‘VEGAS.’ “oh, uh vegas?”

she giggles. “no, that’s just a name. i’m actually from barbados.”

“you’re from barbados and your name is ve—”

“anyways!” she ahems, “come here,” and she lightly tugs on his hand. “i know a secret on how to win every machine here, heh.”

“v—vegas, nevadaaaaa, nghhhhh.”

“it’s vegas, not nevada baby.” she giggles, strumming a hand down your spine— she takes in your body as she’s bottoming out with her overly large strap. you’re so soaked, feeling her touch warm up every inch of your body. “oh, i don’t think i ever got your name.”

you pant, reaching down to touch yourself but she gingerly smacks your hand away.

“it’s um— (whatever your name is! i’d rather die that write the word Y/N i’m sorry man LMAOO)”

“ooh, cute,” she snickers before softly caressing the mounds of your ass. “oh my god, you know what would be cuter though?” she teases, suddenly pulling out. you pout— feeling yourself be not so full and she flips you over. you shrug, and she leans in to kiss your neck. “you said you wanted to top me earlier, huh? so how about you put me in my place.”

you gulp at her. “really? but—”

“hold that thought, i have to post a toji fic,” she cheeses— reaching for her phone, and you stare as she opens the site called tumblr. vegas laughs, “damn, thirty drafts that’ll probably never get posted. aw man.”

“v—vegas,” you whine, pawing at her to put her phone down.

she giggles. “oh! sorry baby, here, i’ll bend over. be extra rough too, i like the mean shit.”

part two?

#anons 💌 #😞😞😞 #vegas x reader #vegas x you #vegas smut #screampied smut lol what am i doingwith my life

[threezzyo]

໒‧₊˚ your little secret ∘︴fushiguro t.

∾you were always a good girl, as a governor's daughter, but little did anyone know... it's only natural to have a crush on your bodyguard. 6'1", the biggest muscles you've ever seen, scars begging to be licked. months of seducing him leads to something you wanted, something secret between the two of you. daddy doesn't have to know that his daughter is hooking up with her bodyguard behind the scenes.

∾older!bodyguard! toji fushiguro x fem!brat!reader. modern au. word count- 3.4k ∾NSFW! MDNI! age gap, (17 years) reader is a senior in high school (19, early birthday). dark-ish content! brat taming. no use of y/n. toji is a bit harsh... kinda 'used' as a toy. (mentions of using as a sleeve) usage of brat, slut, minx, good girl (for reader) and daddy, oldie, mister (for toji). promiscuous reader. finger sucking. car sex. smoking. oral (m recieving) riding! pussyjob kind of. slight exhibitionism (in a parking lot where literally anyone can see them......) biting. lots of teasing lorddd. just filthy, depraved, NASTYY smut.

∾indi's notes: i am sorry for being so iffy with posting and i will also stick to a theme now lol 😜 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

you were nineteen and hopelessly in love with your 36 year old bodyguard.

you had a student council meeting today, and was the last one to leave. toji fushiguro, your bodyguard (more like chauffeur) was waiting against the brick wall of your fancy pants school, cigarette in hand. he seemed to be texting someone, his mood irate.

“oh, y��er finally here.” he says in that rough voice you absolutely love. "took you long enough, brat.”

he pretends not to notice your skirt hitched up with your ass practically hanging out, or the two unbuttoned buttons on your thin white blouse that doesn’t do much to hide the lacy black bra you decided to wear.

it became a routine, before he picked you up, you’d unbutton your blouse a tiny bit and hike up your pleated skirt in the girls bathroom. maybe slather on some lip tint.

“i’m not a brat. and i told you i’d come out late.” you retort, skipping down the parking lot.

“unlock the car, oldie!” you yell, already reaching the expensive car he drives you around in. it’s yours, the porsche 911 carrera cabriolet, but why not let the handsome man drive it for you?

“tch.” he mumbles to himself, unlocking the car. "what a minx."

you were already nice and comfortable in the passenger seat when he got there, curled up on the fancy leather, your skirt riding up to your mid thighs. you were scrolling through whatever social media was popular, your headphones plugged into your ears.

what a typical high school girl.

he knows it’s wrong. he’s nearly twice your age, and you just turned nineteen, just a baby. and just because you’re the governors daughter doesn’t mean you were all prissy and proper, or sweet and innocent, you were quite the opposite.

even if your father paid a pretty penny to keep you out of trouble, a little extra cash from you was enough to keep him quiet. a man does what he has to do.

and unfortunately, your hedonistic lifestyle was gonna get your sweet father in trouble- and even worse, toji’s job at risk if he didn’t keep you under control.

“brat.” he leans over and snatches your headphones from the wire.

“toji!” you exclaim, irritated. “give them back, oldie!”

he rolls his eyes, throwing them in the backseat. “get them later. now shut y’er trap and listen to me.”

you grumble, falling back onto the seat. "i'm listening."

he takes a breath. "you know the election coming up, right?"

you furrow your brows. toji doesn't seem to be the political type. "yeah. papa's running for re-election."

his voice is low. "you need to keep a low profile. your father can't have anything tarnishing his reputation. especially his brazen brat. so, imma need you to follow my rules." his hand grips the steering wheel as he parks in an empty business lot.

"hey! i am not a brat!" you ripostes.

"oi. if your dad goes down, so do you, princess. i'd listen to me if i were you." he says, leaning in closer.

you scoff, crossing your arms. "fine. what?"

by crossing your arms, you slightly push up your lace clad bosom, easily seen through the sheer material of your white blouse.

his eyes flicker down.

like you didn't notice.

he rolls his eyes, looking back into the empty concrete lot. "y'er not going to go out for any party. y'er definitely not talking to any stranger. or any boys, for that matter. and you gonna have to start wearing something more..."

you grin. "more what?"

"more prudish." he grits, his eyes blazen. "can't have you prancin' around like that."

despite his tone, there's a hint of arousal in his voice, and he can feel the blood rushing right where he didn't want it to be. he clears his throat and tries again, "just follow those rules while i'm around, okay? it will make things easier for y'er daddy."

you roll your eyes, pulling your skirt down a bit and buttoning your blouse again. “just send me to a damn convent, then.”

toji grits his teeth at the girl's defiance. why does she have to be such a brat? and why did his dick twitch at the sight of her fixing her clothes? "don't be so stupid, girl. i'm just looking out for your safety, and if you don't cooperate, there will be consequences."

“consequences? like what?” you ask, your eyes wide and curious.

"like... being punished," he murmurs, barely audible. "if you disobey me or disrespect me in any way, i won't hesitate to discipline you."

you didn't realize how close toji had gotten to you, feeling his minty tobacco breath hit the side of your face.

there was an opening. and you took it.

"i wouldn't mind being punished.” you say with a sultry smile, giggling.

fuck.

she's right there, forbidden fruit, so very tempting.

he really shouldn’t, but he did.

"you wouldn't?" he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "well, you better be prepared for anything then." he grins.

he swiftly unbuckled your seatbelt. "get in the backseat. you wanna act like a slut, i'll treat you like one."

you're pushed into the back of your car, toji following you. without warning, he pulls you into his lap, so that you're straddling him. "toji!" you squeal, eyes wide open as you drink in the lecherous look in his eyes.

"toji-" you're abruptly cut off by his palm.

"didn't tell you to talk, now, did i?" his shit-eating grin was so infuriating, but also so enchanting. "you gotta listen to me, sweet girl. i don't want a single word out that damn mouth."

you narrow your eyes, but comply anyways.

"good girl." he smirks, sticking two fingers in your mouth. "suck."

you looked absolutely bewildered. “to-“

“suck.”

he sticks his two fingers in your mouth, going down your throat and causing you to gag.

that look in his eyes, it was so lewd. it just made you more turned on.

your tongue swirls around his digits. you look like you’re pouting by how your bottom lip sticks out, lips latched on his fingers.

he could hear your sinfully wet sounds as you suck on his fingers, soft whines escaping your lips.

he slides his fingers out of your mouth, a little wet pop! sound.

“do the same with my cock.” he demands, pushing you to the floor of the car.

you’re on your knees, silently thanking the gods for this opportunity. a true blessing in disguise.

“gladly, toji.” you grin, your head resting on his knee. your fingers ghost over the tent in his grey sweatpants, eyes never leaving his.

he looks like a mess, his pants practically bursting at the seams.

“i don’t have all day, sweetheart.” he warns, pulling at your hair. “no time for y’er dilly dallying.”

you sigh, wanting to tease him more. he spreads his legs a bit further, and you pull down his sweatpants, before palming the bulge in his boxers.

“damn, daddy.” you giggle, tracing the wet spot. “all of this for me?”

“jesus, girl, you can’t even follow orders?” he groans, grabbing at your wrists and forcefully makes you pull down his boxers. his dick sprung up, nearly hitting your nose. angry, veiny, girthy. the others you've hooked up with pales in comparison to the older man.

you've never been nervous. it was big, too big. "toji, that.. that's not gonna fit." you mumble meekly, staring at it.

"fuck, girl, i know you've taken dick before. don't tell me you're tappin' out so early." he leers. "use your hands if it's too much." he gets comfortable in the leather seat, yanking you closer to the tower he calls his dick.

"daddy. you're so mean." you whine, your breath hitting his tip. "its so hot." he isn't having your shit. he just grips your hair tighter, forcing your mouth open with his other hand. he only pushes your head down so that your lips clamp on his tip.

"urgh- to-" the wind is nearly knocked out of you as he shoves his fat dick further down your throat. it's so messy, tears prick your eyes and your saliva mixed with his pre-cum trickles down his cock, dripping down his balls. now was the absolute worse time to have a gag reflex, stomach heaving as you struggle to open your jaw to fit all of him.

"ahf, to-.." your moans are muffled by his cock, whimpers and whines reaching his ears as you find the energy to bob your head up and down.

"fuuck. good girl." his grip on your hair loosens, allowing you to catch your breath as your mouth unlatches from his dick.

"shit, oldie, what the fuck?!" you whine, coughing into your school blazer.

"just giving ya a break." he's kinda nice at times, wiping away your smeared mascara. "but i'm not nice all the time. you're sucking me off, girl."

you shoot him a glare. "just.. don't shove it directly down my throat."

he chuckles, caressing your cheek. "hurry on, sweet girl."

you whimper, but you abide grudgingly. your sloppy mouth takes him so well, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction at the way your teary eyes make eye contact with him.

"fuck, yes, sweetheart." his calloused hands guide your head up and down as the slick collects and drips down his base. "such a good fucking girl, yes, mmh.." he's merely using you as a cocksleeve now, your tongue swirling around his tip. your nails make half moon indents on his muscular thighs, your staggered breaths hitting his trimmed pubes. your obscene sounds play like music to the older man, your teary, coy eyes glassy as he fucks your throat.

you lick the vein on underside of his cock, bobbing your head up and down, giving yourself a break by also licking the skin on his balls.

using your nimble fingers, you toy with the base of his cock.

“ah, to-ji, please…!” you croak, as his hips piston once more into your awaiting mouth, cum brimming in the back of your throat. you have no choice but to swallow.

the way your teary countenance and cum-dripping lips look to him is delectable. he laughs, throwing his head back as he comfortingly pulls your hair back.

“good girl.” he grins as he sees you wipe the cum off your lips. “you’re getting better by the second.” his expression was so pestiferous- he enjoyed seeing you cough, he enjoyed how you cleared your throat since it was so hoarse. he liked seeing you fix your messy lip gloss, liked seeing you sniffle as you rest your temple on his knee, looking up at him like a darling little kitten. begging for more.

you had never felt so needy before. blowjobs were something you just gave to get a feel for how big a guy was. and if it wasn't to your standards, you left disappointed but he at least got something out of it.

"sweet girl." his fingers toyed with your hair, as if to apologize and comfort you for the rough treatment.

"toji." you whimper, bottom lip sticking out. "please.. i want it so badly."

"ask nicely." he demands, stroking a strand away from your face.

"...please can you fuck me?" you repeat.

"again. use my name."

you groan. he's really making you work for it. "fuck. fuck me, mister, please!" you shift uncomfortably, finally sitting back up on the seat. "toji, pleasee." you whine, straddling his lap again, hovering over his semi-hard cock, while kissing his cheek. "need you so badly."

he chuckles, hands sliding to grip your hips, letting you kiss down his neck. "ah, little minx. can't say no to such a sweet request, can i now?" he drawls, calloused hands sliding down your skirt to squeeze the meat of your ass.

"ah... 'es, toji.." you murmur, kissing his lips. it was your first with him. his lips were chapped in contrast to yours. you tasted like your berry lip oil and his cum at the same time, and he tasted like cigarettes. your head was tilted, your manicure digging into his shoulder as you ravished his lips.

"you taste good, sweetheart." he purrs, guiding you as he maneuvers your thong off of your body. "i'll be taking this, by the way." he whispers, placing a kiss on your neck, stuffing your panties into the pocket of his grey sweatpants.

"t-toji!" you peep, eyes wide in bewilderment. "g-give them back-"

"nah." he sits you down on his lap completely, the base of his now rock hard cock teasing your aching, sopping slit. "ride me, girl. wanna see you try."

your face was even more flustered, if that was even possible. "whatever you say, daddy." you feign your confidence, adjusting your position.

he slides off your white blouse, unlatching your bra. "pretty little tits. wonder who else saw these, hmm?" he teases, tongue teasing your peaks.

"ah- toji! fuck! n...not so sudden!" you instinctively arch your back, nails sinking into his chest covered by his compression shirt. he simply wraps his arms around your waist even tighter, virtually feasting on your perky breasts. "toji! fuck, not there..!" you squeak, noticing the salacious string of of love bites dissipated on your neck, collarbone, and under breasts.

"mm.. nah. i like marking up my girl." he mutters, taking in your nipple in between his teeth.

"ow!" you yelp, tugging on his hair instinctively. "that hurt."

"oh, 'm sorry, baby. won't happen again." his sleazy grin says otherwise.

"toji, ah... need more." you whimper, rocking your hips against his cock, wetting the base with your arousal. "want you in me so bad."

his eyes were dark hearing your pleas, his fingers gripping the meat of your ass. "damn, nasty girl, begging for it? might just give you what you want if you promise to be good."

"please, daddy." you groan, lifting your hips up to hover over his dick.

"so impatient..." he sighs, pressing a butterfly kiss to the back of your ear. "go ahead."

you perk up at his allowance, gently swirling the tip around your dripping arousal, flicking your clit with it. "ah.. fuck!" you cry in excitement, sinking onto his cock, so fast, and you didn't even do that much foreplay to be this wet.

"shit, y’er such a slut." toji groans, feeling you engulf him, you feel amazing. "juust like that, baby, good girl." he presses a wet kiss to your nipple. "ride me, i want to find out how quickly you can cum.”

"t-toji, shit." you croak, feeling the slightly uncomfortable stretch. "wait, please, one second..."

"poor baby." he croons in your ear, stroking your hair softly as you bury your head in his chest, trying to adjust. "too big for you?"

"mhm." your sweet voice comes out muffled, relishing his scent. "can we wait?" you mumble. “let me get used to you?”

he barks. “this ain’t for your comfort, darling. you need ta be taught a lesson here.” his eyes flash with a dangerous spark. “y’er lucky i like you a lil’ bit, letting you ride me and all.”

you whimper, feeling more relaxed after slowly rocking your hips. “ngh- it’s so deep, daddy-“ you groan, finally finding the strength to bounce on his dick. “shittt.” you cry, feebly moving faster to chase your high.

“such a good little slut, hm?” toji chuckles, kneading your ass. “tight pussy for such a loose girl. doin’ daddy so well."

“fuck, fuck, yes!!” you cry. “ah.. ngh- daddy, so good, mmh..”

your mind was hazy, focused on riding him with all the determination you got. you lifted your hips and then sank down on him again, moaning his name over and over again. "t-too good, daddy...!" you whine, chasing your high with all your might, legs cramping.

you felt toji's hands twitch at the side of your hips, granting you some leeway by meeting your thrusts halfway, legs spreading a bit further apart. god, how could he have resisted your temptations for so long? he was so infatuated with the way you cried out his name, kohl smeared around your eyes. the lewd cherry on top was the way your tits bounced in his face, as he fucked you senseless.

"harder, daddy, please...!" you claw at his shoulders, nearly ripping the slutty compression shirt.

and harder he went, his hips slamming into your ass, feeling the slick from your wet cunt stain the expensive leather. you felt the car lurch forward. he made the car bounce over and over again, every time he pounded into your perfect pussy.

"you like it, baby?" he asks you, lips latched to your breasts. "dirty girl- hah- likes my cock rough?"

"yes, yes, -ahh- dont stop, please!" your back arches like cat, relieving your leg cramp by your impending orgasm. the bastard made it so much better worse by thumbing your swollen clit, your legs freezing, rendering you helpless.

"you're so sexy like this." he chuckles, seeing you're letting him throw you around like a doll. "taking me like such a good girl, seemed you learned your lesson, hm?" toji pinches your nipple with his other hand, slowing down when you spray all over his thighs with a scream of his name, soaking his grey sweatpants. "fuck, oh my god. " you cry, your orgasm lasting a lifetime, clenching onto him. he relished in the obscene squelch, toji's coil in his stomach was gonna snap soon. the sound of your moans fills the small space of the car, and toji can feel the vibrations of your pleasure echoing through the metal frame.

"daddy-" you choke, "cum in me. p-lease." you whimper, desperate for him, all of him.

"dirty, dirty girl." he sneers, roughly grabbing at your waist to hit into you deeper. "want to be a mom at 19? slut." he groans, when you pick up the slack, slamming your ass down.

"mhh- 'm on the pill, just- ah! please..!" you gasp, when you feel him thrust once more, a harsh smack on your ass ringing.

"take- it." he grunts, feeling his vision blur as he empties his load into your awaiting, perfect pussy. you feel so much of it, so much it's trailing down your thighs.

"ah..! toji." you whisper, eyes wide.

"don't give me that look, you wanted it." he snaps, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "good girl." he adds, his tone slightly softer.

you don't say anything in return, opting to melt in his arms, feeling his cock soften inside you. "mmm."

he presses a kiss to your temple, "clean yourself up, brat."

you whine. "why am i back to brat?"

he rolls his eyes. "jesus fucking christ. clean up, princess. i need a smoke." he pulls out reluctantly, shamelessly grinning when he sees his cum drip down your thighs. you let him go, lending him a jacket to hide the wet spot you made on his pants.

he's standing outside, leaning on the dashboard as he's texting someone- your father, probably- taking a puff of his cigarette.

you dress again, fixing your skirt and retrieving your bra. you get out of the car, quiet footsteps approaching him, hugging him.

toji is startled when you suddenly appear beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him with that sickly sweet pout. he can feel her breath tickling his neck, and he takes another drag from his cigarette before looking down at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "princess," he says dryly, "what are you doing?"

he takes your silence as a hint to return your affection.

he puts an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and sharing some of his warmth as you two stand together under the setting sun. "we gotta go home soon, princess."

"don't wanna." you murmur.

"aw. c'mon, princess. y'er daddy's asking where we are." he shuts off his phone, putting it in his pocket.

"mm. okay. lets go home." you sigh.

toji takes one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it away and putting it out with his foot. Then he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him and kissing you deeply on the lips. "parting gift?" he smirks.

you laugh. "whatever, daddy."

"let's go home now, sweet girl." he rolls his eyes, laughing as you pepper kisses over his face. "and remember..." he adds on, his voice a smooth murmur. "our little secret." he holds out his pinky.

"your little secret." you whisper, twisting pinkies into a small promise, unfolding for better or worse?

hii i was so lazy writing this (took me a whole damn month) (more like two) but i had to get this out i lobe bodyguard!toji so so so muchhhhh 🙁🙁 (not enough to not be lazy)

reminder that fiction is not reality and don't base off sexual relations w/ smut or p-rn. things are exaggerated and they are fantasies. just an fyi because i gen feel so icky when i write darker content (smut) and how it could impact people who read it... just make sure that there's always consent, you're vocal about boundaries, and you feel safe.

reblogs appreciated i love u guys 🤩

༝༚༝༚ indy

- cross posted on ao3- miniminari (linked if i actually posted it LMAO)

#༝༚༝༚indy #𐦍༘⋆indiwrites! #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk toji #jjk toji smut #jjk toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushigro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x female reader #toji daddy #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #toji #toji x self insert #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji zenin #bodyguard!toji

[slashingdisneypasta]

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You're nothing but sweet to Bo, and he's so damn mean! When you offer to wash him, its no different.

... "Come on, Bo. You're filthy." ... "Shower's nice and warm, Bo, come on. Don't be grumpy, please?" ... "Just relax, Bo,.. "

Warnings: Smut. Shower sex and Degradation. Age difference relationship (Mean older man (36 y/o) / Soft younger AFAB person (Early 20's)). A tiny little bit of daddy kink, and a creampie. Wrap it before you tap it folks, don't be like Bo. (Unedited)

When Bo finally gave in and joined you in the shower, chucking his hat off and to the corner of the bathroom last and giving a simultaneous frustrated sigh as he slides into the small little cubicle with you, you give a pleased grin. So he's not in that terrible a mood, then. If he was, he never would've listened to you.

"Y'better start washin' the fucken day off me, honey, or I'm kickin your ass outta here."

Your jaw drops, the sponge in your hand two inches away from Bo's chest. "Wh- I started this shower!! I- I was here first!" You sound immature, you know it, but its totally warranted! Pouting, you squeeze the sponge so all the soapy water drenches your hand. He could be so charismatic, but never for you!...

"Yeah, and I'm gonna end it if you don't get to work." There's a ghost of a smirk on his handsome face, now, watching you get all sulky in front of him- and all covered in soap suds and running water, too. It was definitely cheering him up after the day he had. "What? You gonna get all huffy now, darlin'? Y'asked for me to come in here."

"Why are you always so mean to me... I'm always nice to you!"

"Awww, was I mean?... " The smirk is real, now, as Bo backs you up against the tile wall. When the cold hits your skin you jolt and gasp; leaning in towards Bo's warmth, instead.

Still, you cross your arms and look away from him. "Yes. And you're always so nice to visitors, before you kill them I mean, and I- "

Here he chuckles, shaking his head. "You're so fucken dumb, doll, jesus christ."

"Hey!- "

When Bo's lips crash into yours, wet and tasting of water, you let out a quick gasp- but calm down immediately at the taste of his tongue in your mouth. Dropping the sponge in your fist, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck; pressing your naked bodies together. This time when he pushes you against the wall, you're so warm and content against him, connected to him, that you don't even wince.

Immediately your pussy is throbbing, soaking wet and aching to be filled up with his cock. That always happens when Bo takes control of you like this- you hate it, you think it betrays you, but what can you do?? Its so hot. Moaning, you turn your nose to the other side of Bo's, adjusting the kiss and letting him deepen it by sucking on your tongue. The hot water from the shower beats down his back, drips off the tips of your fingers, and slides down your thighs.

His hands find your thighs and wrap them around his waist, grinding his half-hard cock against your lovely, slick, plush pussy with a growl. He separates from your poor swollen lips and flashes you a devastating smirk. "You ready for me, little baby?"

Slow on the uptake, head full of steam and Bo, you give another little pout at his words. "I'm not a baby- "

"Yeah you are." With his cock fully hard now, thick and standing tall against his belly, he slips in just half; watching you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out. "Hey hey hey, hold on there- " He gets in close to your face, tut tut tut-ing, the feel of his hot breath a little extra in the hot steamy shower. "Don't do that, princess~ Dontcha think Daddy wants to hear every little thing he's doin' to you?" You just look mortified back at him, your hand still over your mouth. Daddy?!? "It'd cheer me up, for sure."

... oh, you think, eyes widening. Well- if it would make Bo happy, then- "O- okay... "

Slowly you take your hand away from your lips, watching Bo's eyes flicker down to your mouth and the little lecherous smirk spread across his. "There you go... "

Then he thrusts all the way into you, filling you up so entirely and riding against your clit your eyes slip up into the back of your head; your skull falling back and thudding gently against the tile wall behind you. "Booo... "

"Heheh, thats right, sweetheart, fuck you're so fucken tight- "

Bo's words race right through you as he pounds your little cunt with his admittedly impressive dick, stroking the tight ball inside you developing into a perfect delicious orgasm. You hold on the best you can though, you try so hard to stay together, you don't wanna cum too fast!, you want this to last-

Your pussy squeezes Bo like a vice as he pummels your clit, the hot shower water coating you both adding a layer of pleasure thats so new and so good. "Bo Bo Bo- "

"I know, sweet thing, I kn- fuck!- " When you squeeze around him hearing him call you 'sweet thing', he cant stand it. He squeezes your hips so tight he'll definitely leave fingertip-shaped bruises behind and presses his full cock deep into you so his pelvis pins yours against the wall.

A hot, fulfilled feeling explodes in your cunt and you let out a guttural moan, rolling your hips against him, riding out both your orgasms.

~

" ... huh, well I guess y'are useful for somethin', huh, baby doll?" Bo tells you a few minutes later, still holding your tired, sleepy form up against the shower wall; keeping you close as long as possible while you're all sweet and tired like this. His foreheads leaning against yours and his hand's on the side of your head, stroking your face lovingly with his thumb.

Your eyes are closed, half-drifting off. " ... sh- shut up... fuck you... asshole... "

Bo gives a grin. "Fuck you too, sweetheart."

#i love his name XD #gotta say it as many times as possible- #Bo Sinclair x Reader Drabble #Bo Sinclair x Reader #Bo Sinclair #Smut #Drabble #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader

[nymphie66]

"God Bless America"

Part Two

Part Three

Author's notes: This is my first fic on this blog, so wish me luck.

Soldier boy x f!reader; Warnings: Dark fic, we're ignoring the roe v wade turnover, mentions of abortion, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating.

Description: You fall pregnant with your team member (boyfriend) Soldier Boy's baby. He's obsessed with you and would love nothing more than to lock you down in a suburban home. Unfortunately, you're a modern woman and fed up of his whoring ways - and a supe at that. So instead of panicking when that test comes back positive you decide to remind Ben of what freedom America has granted you

---

Five times he had called you, and five times you had hung up on him. The wind was blowing in your hair as you drove down the highway, pop tunes blasting as you sang your wretched little heart out to them. You drove a classic open-top chevy, something that only Vought money could buy, the only upside to them exploiting your powers. The positive pregnancy test was stuffed in your bag, and you smiled as you remembered taking a picture of it and sending it off. It had been 36 hours since you went MIA, though Vought didn't really care, they knew a certain someone would sort you out.

That certain someone was desperately trying to get ahold of you, after receiving the picture of your positive pregnancy test and the words "guess you'll have to break it to your whores that you are more fertile than you think"

The other women meant nothing, Ben had assured you, simple blips in his dedication to you. You understood, to begin with, that he was a man with a large appetite, and you didn't mind. Your relationship had blossomed on this mutual understanding, that each had insatiable desires that sometimes required external satisfiers. That was until a few months in when Ben had restricted that understanding. Asked you to be his and only his. Which you complied with, as long as he did the same. And he did- or at least he swore he did. And you believed him, because who wouldn't believe America's golden boy?

You were happy, genuinely happy. Lost in the belief of love and adoration until you called Ben's hotel room and another woman picked up. Though after her voice all you could hear was your beloved's harsh scolding of her for picking up and the sound of a body flying across the room. That's when you knew, when the belief broke, and to think you had the test right there in your hands, that you were daresay excited over your next chapter with him.

He had always told you, how good you would look with his baby, how nobody else was worthy of carrying his child. You used protection, even if he didn't and were never worried that his lustful promises would come true. But then they did, nothing is perfect after all.

You threw the phone across the room, your abilities causing it to smash through the bedroom wall and then the next one. A heart once filled with joy and love suddenly soured into hate and revenge.

That's when you sent the picture and the message, and quickly hopped into your car, speeding down the highway, screaming to whatever heartbreak anthem was playing, your phone incessantly ringing.

Eventually, after perhaps the tenth ring, you decided to pick up, and in a sickly sweet - yet slightly psychotic, voice you answered him.

"Hello, Ben, Honey, whatever is the matter?'

"Are you fucking out of your mind woman!? Why the hell weren't you picking up!?" He was pissed off and that only widened your smile.

"So sorry honey, I was just preoccupied, you know its not safe to use a phone whilst driving."

"Well you better be driving your ass over here, we have much to fucking talk about."

"I would hate to third wheel though, I mean it wouldn't be fair to- ha! do you even know her name?" There was a silence which confirmed your suspicions, at least he had maintained that they meant nothing to him. "Anyway, I have to go I'm almost at the clinic."

"Clinic? You're going to get a scan? I want to be there I want to-"

"A scan?" You laughed cruelly, eyes on the road as you overtook various civilians. "No, no Ben, I'm getting an abortion, honey."

"The fuck you are that is my child-"

"And my body! Isn't it amazing what women can do in the modern age? As much as you can whore out your body to any woman with a pulse, I can get mine sorted out by a lovely doctor with a warm smile." You wish you could be there to see his face, as his world crashed down around him just as yours had moments ago. You knew how badly he wanted a child, how badly he wanted a child with you, and you could take that all away from him. "Just a simple procedure and our chemical mishap can be erased. God bless America."

"If you even fucking step foot in that goddamn clinic I will make you regret the moment you ever even fucking spoke those fucking words to me." Ben threatened down the phone and you felt a chill go down your spine, he was more serious than you were. But the enjoyment you got from tormenting him, from hurting him like he had hurt you outweighed any form of sense and you decided to take it a step further.

"Ben you're so right. I won't step foot into a clinic I swear." You put an extra essence of dumb innocence into your words that continued into your next sentence, ignorant of Ben's sigh of relief over the phone. "I'll just go to another man's bed - a real man's, and have him fuck that baby out of me.``

You heard a crushing noise before the line went dead, and you laughed happily. In reality, you had no idea what you were going to do with the foetus, but you knew that first, you had to get a check on your health. Who knew what you and Ben had created, hopefully, nothing like homelander but you wanted to check. Which was what brought you to a nondescript hospital, in an average town, and checked in under the boring cover name Vought had given you for such a scenario - that of needing medical attention whilst laying low.

The lovely doctor with the predicted warm smile told you everything was fine and that you were 12 weeks along, close out of the danger zone but not too far gone that certain options were ruled out. You could do whatever you wanted.

You thanked her and as you gathered your belongings, you couldn't help but put a hand to your abdomen. The thought of life inside you wasn't as repulsive as previously thought, in fact, the more you thought about it the more you assured yourself that you could handle a baby, Ben's involvement or not. You were going to keep the child - but he didn't know that.

Which is why when you left the hospital, you felt a sudden arm around your waist and cuffs placed on your wrists - power subduing ones, and you were quickly shoved into the back of the van. The encounter lasting no more than 20 seconds.

When you managed to look up at your assailant you weren't surprised to see him, Ben. His hair was ragged, his suit had evidently been hastily put on and his eyes were wild. It was one of the few times you actually found yourself scared of him.

You scampered to the back of the van, until your back hit its cool metal walls and there was nowhere else to go. Ben chuckled, darkly as he approached you, a lopsided grin on his face.

"I knew you wouldn't baby, I knew it." He said though it was more reassurance to himself than anything. You looked up at him with a fury, unwilling to submit to his arrogance.

"I still can Ben-" Your words were quickly cut off by his gloved grip around your neck as he hoisted you upwards towards him. You choked and pried at his hand, but it was no use. He was much, much stronger than you.

"It's cute that you think you have the privilege of free will in this situation." He laughed and he relaxed his grip on your neck, not enough for you to be comfortable but enough that his grip would still leave a mark. He jerked you closer towards him, your foreheads resting against each other. "I know I've been bad, baby, I do. And I'm sorry - you hear that? I'm fucking sorry. But I'm here now. Here for you, and for them."

With that, he placed his free hand on your stomach and looked down as he did it. A genuine smile on his face. You continued to struggle but you really were no match for him, not when you were like this. He looked at you and you tried not to recoil at his evident pride and satisfaction that he had you, right where he wanted you.

"We're going to have a happy family, baby. Just you wait."

#soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys #soldier boy x reader #dark soldier boy x reader #dark fic #tw: dark content

[peterparkersnose]

It’s Just Paint

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: a bad day of parenting, stress, anxiety, arguing, fluff, SAND

a/n grogu’s art is the future mona lisa. shorter piece, i hope you enjoy. I got this idea from a fan art (that I cannot find to save my life) so if you recognize the art, tag me please! I would love to give credit where it belongs :)

summary Din and Y/N struggle with the parenting lifestyle. 

masterlist

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read time: 4 mins 36 seconds

Home sweet home. If you could call the dingy, falling apart ship home. But home to you were two people; A Mandalorian and a green baby. Sighing, you questioned your life decisions as you began the journey to the ship.

You trudged up the sandy hill Din had parked the crest on, woven bags of groceries hanging from your arms. The calls of the night creatures began to ring, making you walk a bit faster. The suns were setting, and the gorgeous orange sky was very present.

The hatch opened and it was eerily quiet. Grogu wasn’t whining to meet you at the door; Din’s beskar wasn’t clanking around.

“Hellooo?” you sang, your voice echoing down the hallway.

Setting the groceries down on a shelf, you went to see if Din was even home. Maybe a bounty came up unexpectedly. You carefully made your way around a corner when the scent of paint hit you.

Your paint.

“Dank farrik,” you sighed. Grogu had most definitely gotten into your paints you had hidden away. “Din!” you called. No response.

Annoyed, you slammed the button to open your quarters and change out of your sand clothes. The goggles came off, and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was a mess- covered in sand to say the least. Your white boots had now a tan configuration to them. The robes hit your floor with a thud. Exchanging them for a comfy pair of joggers and a tee, you walked to your sink and tried to get as much sand out of your hair as you could.

When you shut off the water you heard a bump.

So they are home.

As you squeezed out your hair, you heard a faint coo from Grogu.

You anxiously combed back your hair, eager to see your family for the first time today.

The hatch hissed open and revealed a sight. Din was struggling to keep Grogu still; little red painted toes ran across the steel ground of the crest.

“Need some help?” you asked, leaning your hips against the doorframe. You didn’t need to see his face to know what face he was making.

“It would be nice,” he sighed with a slight sarcastic tone, turning around from the sink.

Your eyes grew wide at the sight. Grogu was covered in red, blue, and mixed purple paint. Green paint was smeared on his fingers and on Din’s gloves.

A burst of laughter erupted from you. “Not funny,” he hissed, holding the nude creature awkwardly in his hands. You weren’t laughing at that; no way you were laughing at the wasted expensive paint.

Din had little works of art all over his beskar. Unsure of what, but Grogu had definitely painted a few murals all over him. What looked like Banthas were sloppily drawn over his chest plate; a surprisingly good night sky with what seemed like were orange stars plagued his helmet.

“What happened?” you asked, a hand supporting you on the wall to make sure you didn’t fall over in laughter.

“Grogu was naughty.” Din said, turning his attention back to the baby and plopping him in the sink. Grogu splashed around and whined.

“You fall asleep?” you asked, joining Din at the sink to help keep Grogu in control. No response.

“You fell asleep.”

“Did not.” he resisted. His body art was just proof he was lying. “You are a horrible liar, Din Djarin.”

“And you are a great painter,” you said, scrubbing Grogu’s tiny hands. “Painted all over daddy while he slept.”

Din audibly sighed over the daddy comment. “What do you mean, painted all over me?” he asked, taking his gloves off in defeat.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” you scoffed, grabbing a dry kitchen towel to wrap Grogu in.

Din stepped into the fresher. A small gasp came from behind the mask. You heard the hinges of the mask come off and him set it on the countertop.

“Put him down, will you? I need you to come in here.” he yelled from the fresher. Grogu now sat on the kitchen countertop chewing on some grass seeds draped in a kitchen towel.

You picked Grogu up and set him in his floating bassinet.

You entered the fresher to find Din in a panic. His mood was a shock to you. You didn’t expect him to be so upset about a little paint.

“It’s just some paint. It comes out,” you said, trying to calm him. “I just can’t believe- that little shit. Gods Y/N I just don’t know-”

“Din. It’s just paint.”

Your re assuring words weren’t as effective as you hoped. He still had a horrified look on his face and you understood why.

“My armor…” he said in shock, holding his chest plate now in his hands. “It comes out, right?”

“Just told you it did.” you called from the kitchen, collecting his gloves that were full of paint.

Coming back to the fresher, you were met with a defeated Din. His armor was sprawled out on the floor. He was sitting on the corner of the bathtub with his hands on his head.

A saddened sigh came from you. Meeting him at the side, your hand rested on his back and slowly moved back and forth. He slowly leaned his head into your stomach.

“He doesn’t know any better, you know that.” you said, turning and looking at his armor. “I know,” he said solemnly. “It’s just…”

“Hard.”

Din’s tired eyes met yours. “Didn’t sleep well last night?” you asked him, cupping his left cheek. He pressed into your hand and nodded his head. His scruffy face tickled your hand. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the small parenting moment the two of you were having together.

“Go and lay down. I’ll take care of this. If that’s okay,” you offered. Din nodded as your hand left his face. He trudged into the bedroom. You heard the bed creak as he flopped down on it like he always did when he was tired.

An hour and a half later, it was done. His armor looked almost brand new.

All the hard scrubbing, the pile of used paper towels behind you and the steam from the shower was enough to send you into a coma. You were exhausted. Slowly, you cleaned up the mess you made and layed a towel down next to the bathtub. There you left the beskar to dry, and for Din to do what he wishes with it later.

You peek out in the hallway. Grogu was fast asleep as you expected. A little bit of red paint sat on his ear tip, small enough where you could just flick it off. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and left to go find Din.

He was wrapped up in the burgundy blanket on your bed. His soft hair was laying flat on the bed, his pillow was clutched between his arms. His mouth was squished against the mattress slightly agape.

A smile rose to your face. “Din,” you whispered, slowly making your hands meet and trying to loosen the pillow from his hands.

“No,” he muttered, pulling it closer to him. “I’m here,” you said. His soft brown eyes opened. “Oh,” he muttered, shoving the pillow aside.

You crawled into the bed slowly, trying not to make so much noise. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. He let out a satisfied grunt when the two of you were comfortable. You knew he couldn’t sleep properly without you, or without holding something.

“The pillow really was a lousy excuse for you,”

all posts @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy​

#peterparkersnose #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 3 #din djarin headcanon #din djarin one shot #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin masterlist #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #din djarin the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal din djarin #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #grogu #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fan fiction #star wars #peterparkersnosework

[parkerslatte]

Prompts & Dialogues

Requests Open!

•• PROMPTS ••

1. There is only one bed do they need to share.

2. Alternatively, there is only one pillow so they are forced to share and their faces are only inches apart.

3. Gently wiping food away from their mouth while maintaining eye contact.

4. Pretending to be in a relationship for a mission/event.

5. Secretly dating when they are forced to share a dance with one another.

6. The morning after a one night stand.

7. They are a big clingy baby who's cold on the outside but all pouty with you.

8. Cuddling together for warmth.

9. One character gets injured and the other finds them.

10. Character A finds B bleeding out on the floor.

11. Daggers against throats.

12. Character A walks in on B dressing their wounds and offers to help.

13. Character A tells Character B that they are pregnant.

14. They are drunk and they keep mumbling I love yous and how much they want to kiss you.

15. Having a bath together after a long day.

16. Character A pushes B against a wall to kiss them.

17. Character A and B get interrupted by C.

18. They are meant to hate one another but they can’t stay away from each other.

19. Sharing a kiss when it could be the last time.

20. Character A feeling B become limp in their arms.

21. You can't keep you hands off each other, even though no one knows about the two of you.

22. A huge argument that ends up with the two making out.

23. Character A is jealous because Character B has a date, but they are just friends

24. Character A has been away for a while and they reunite with Character B.

25. Comforting one another after a rough day.

26. Everyone can tell that Character A and B are madly in love with each other except A and B.

•• DIALOGUE PROMPTS ••

27. “No, no-no, fuck, [name], don't give up on me like that, please-please.. stay.."

28. “Kiss me again, but- mphh"

29. “Do you think they bought the act?" "While I kissed you down your throat? They definitely did, honey."

30. “You were supposed to be a one night thing but I don't think I can the spend the rest of my days without you."

31. “They’re looking. Kiss me now.”

32. “When I say run, I need you to do it. Don’t even think about me.”

33. “Friends don’t talk about each other like that.”

34. “Stop teasing.”

35. “Why can’t you love me back?”

36. “I still love you and I hate myself for it.”

37. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

38. “Come on, you can do better than that!”

39. “We’re you ever going to tell me?”

40. “Do you think about them when you look at me?”

41. “I was only using you.”

42. "Please, just pretend for one night? I'll do anything you want."

43. "You deserve someone much better than me."

44. "Can you let me in, sweetheart?"

45. "Your hugs feel like home."

46. "Stop running from your feelings!" "Then stop making me feel this way!"

47. "You really think that I care."

48. "You've been smiling much more recently."

49. "I will always choose you, no matter what."

50. "Was this all a joke to you?"

Some prompts are mine and some are from the lovely @urfriendlywriter !

#writing prompt #dialogue prompt #fic prompt

[godidontevenknowwhat]

Lessons of life

Tonowari x Metkayina!Reader (Sequel to Missed Lessons)

A/N: Listen I know I said Missed Lessons was my Magnum Opus but I'm starting to think that writing for Tonowari in general might be my Magnum Opus, also if you saw me accidentally post this unfinished then no you didn't. Also not that anyone asked but Obstacles by Syd Matters and Look at you by Screaming Trees are Tonowari and Reader's songs in my head. Also also the smut is very little of this fic so if you're here for smut without plot this is not for you. And in case you haven't noticed my fics are never beta read so just act like any mistakes aren't there.

Synopsis: 35 cycles, almost 36, of being Tonowari's closest friend was enough to ensure a familiarity with everything in his life. The walls of his Marui, weaved by hand by his grandfather's father contained intricate patterns that you could trace in the sand from memory. The permanent markings covering his body, each with a story you knew from start to finish although it was rare the story didn't involve you in some capacity. The way people looked at him since becoming Olo'eyktan. Before your heat came, before Tonowari laid you in the sand and made you his.. you never would have believed that familiarity would ever fade. The walls of his Marui are now the walls of yours as well, the pattern's swirls seemingly different to how they were in your childhood. His newest marking, familiar? Yes, a marking to show your mating with a matching one adorning your own body but still, it looked out of place in its freshness amongst the faded and settled ones you had seen for many cycles. The way people looked at him, at Tonowari, your Tonowari.. they now looked at you the same way. His mate, the woman carrying his child.

Fic includes: NSFW so MDNI, pregnancy, mentions of childbirth (mostly talk of pushing, contractions etc and then mentions of the baby coming into the world but nothing graphic), pregnant sex, fingering, squirting because I can't write smut without it, p in v, reader on top because she is quite far along, themes of insecurity from Tonowari and Reader (Tonowari's insecurity of being leader that I totally made up and Reader's insecurity of her relationship with Tonowari), hints of a strained relationship between Ao'nung and Reader, hints of Jake and Reader being besties because it felt right in my heart, a little surprise at the end 🤭, 3.6k overall

Tagging: @torukmaktoskxawng @itchaboi-itchyboy @xylianasblog @pandoraslxna @eywaite @neteyamsyawntu @shadowmoonlight0604 @name-saken @anxious7sami @oakbuggy

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Sweat beads on your forehead and covers your body in a thin sheen. The morning sun beats down on you and despite your position in the cool rippling water you are burning from exertion. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Every noise around you seems muffled, as if you have your hands over your ears to block them out. You don’t hear the Tsahik finishing her blessings from Eywa, you don’t hear the encouraging words of your clan from the water’s edge or the rumbling echoes of clicks and bellows from the Tulkun in the deep water. Even your own cries are dampened in your ears as your blood pounds.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Hands land on your shoulders and you jolt out of the daze of your own mind. Your eyes lift from where they were focussed on the lapping waves against your round belly. Meeting Tonowari's eyes you can’t hold back the sob that rips from your throat, the pain was unlike any you had ever experienced. It was a consuming pain, running through every nerve of your body. You try to distract yourself with the way the morning sun hits his eyes, their beautiful blue hue sparkling with specks of turquoise and deep cerulean. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Tonowari moves his hands to your face, cupping your tear-dampened cheeks in the palms of his large hands. You see his lips moving as he asks you about making the bond with him and despite the pain running through you, you shake your head at the suggestion not wanting your mate to be forced to experience the same pain you are. A conscious part of your brain, not consumed by the pain, is overly aware of the eyes on you both and it aches at the thought of making your mate experience pain so openly in front of the clan.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Keeping a hold of your face, Tonowari reaches for his kuru and presents it to you, accepting your choice but giving you the option to change your mind if you need to. You stare into the eyes of your mate, his action washing away any negative thoughts your nagging insecurity might have washed to the front of your brain and you nod numbly, accepting his offer.

Tonowari presses his forehead to your own as he connects your kuru with his, the little pink swirling tendrils tying together and connecting you both through mind, body and soul. Eyes clenching shut he embraces your pain as if it's his own, sharing the pain of bringing your beautiful baby into the world. 

Images pass behind your eyes in a way that you imagine is similar to what Tsyeyk Suli had called a ‘moo-vee’ one day while discussing his life before his consciousness transfer through Eywa. Memories and feelings so deeply embedded that they can only be brought forward through such a profound connection. Tonowari’s eyes water, whether from your pain now being shared with him or from the onslaught of memories detailing your life together through every twist and turn, you can’t be sure.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

🌿

“Tonowari” 

He remembers the low baritone of his father’s voice vibrating in his ears which lowered in shame at his tone. He’d been caught daydreaming instead of paying attention to his father's words once again. Words of his future, how his father was aging and Tonowari would soon have to lead the clan. 

Pressure, pressure was what it was. A pressure filled promise of a future set in stone that he would never be able to shake, even if it’s all that his adolescent brain wanted.

A deep sigh made him turn to his father, the look on his face making his stomach turn, a look of disappointment that he would one day be just as masterful at dealing out to his own children albeit not without a simmer of shame.

“You may go, your little friend is waiting for you”

Ears shooting up with surprise, his wide eyes looked at his father. He didn’t understand the position he was in back then, not like he does now. If he could go back he always said he would take it easier on his dad, let up on him a bit for being so uptight. 

He remembers running from his Marui, running to you where you were waiting for him in the afternoon sun. Your hair was loose that day, unbraided and unstyled with a rogueness that was uniquely yours. You smiled at him, bright and beautiful as you told him about a place you wanted to take him.

An outcrop, one you had to swim to from the other side of the island where Awa’latlu rested. A place that would hold significance in your lives throughout cycles and cycles. The place where you would create new life to add to yours.

🌿

“Skxawng!”

You remember the offended look that Tonowari shoots at you, your hands weaving a delicate shining shell into his songcord with practiced perfection. 

The dark ink of his newest permanent marking is shocking against his skin, covered in a layer of healing salve from the Tsahik. 

He was banned from the water, not allowed to get the marking wet or soak it for the next few days so he’s stuck making up his excess time by attending duties with you, annoying you through your daily tasks.

You didn’t realise at the time that Tonowari was happier by your side, watching you work on various duties, than he was in the water with the weight of being the Eykyu (Leader) of the tarpongu (hunting party). 

You didn’t realise at the time that Tonowari was a different person with you.

🌿

“Tonowari”

He remembers the shake in your voice, the quiver of your bottom lip as you stared up at him and the tears gathering on your lash line that threatened to spill over. 

You were standing off to the side of him and his group of friends who were sitting around a fire. They were talking about something stupid, laughing and smiling. He was relaxed, as much as he could be while knowing he was about to become the Olo’eyktan. 

These friends would soon grow to look at him differently, look at him as their leader and not the boy they grew up with but you.. you never looked at him as anything other than himself.

Laughter roused from the group as Tonowari practically sprinted to your side to check on you. He can’t recall why you were crying, why you needed him but he remembers the panic that spread through him when he saw your tears finally spill over and dampen your cheeks.

He didn’t realise at the time that your tears finally spilled not from what had actually gotten you so worked up but from the guilt of pulling him away from his other friends, from making them laugh at him because of you.

🌿

“Skxawng” 

You remember calling Tonowari that as he shifted once more from the feeling of your hands on his body. At the time you were annoyed. Your hands were aching from grinding up iridescent shells to make the unique paint in front of you and no part of your mind would have thought that your best friend of 21 cycles was being so inconsiderately mobile because the feeling of your hands on his body was meaningful to him in any other way than just painting him for his ceremony. 

The swirls you painted were purposefully reminiscent of the weaving swirls throughout his Marui, a place you had spent a majority of your childhood together in, and the paint you had made for this momentous occasion was dazzling. Fit for the Olo’eyktan to be that was sitting before you. 

Fit for your best friend.

🌿

“Tonowari!”

He remembers the cheers of excitement from the clan around him, a grin spreading across his own face to match the ones he could see in the crowd as the Tsahik announced him the new Olo’eyktan in the presence and blessing of the Great Mother.

The weight of the ceremonial cape on his shoulders was a fitting physical representation of the metaphorical weight he had worn for cycles before becoming clan leader and that he would continue to wear cycles on from now.

He remembers pressing his forehead to the Tsahik’s in a respectful display before doing the same with his father, who for the first time in his lifetime seemed to be just that. Not Olo’eyktan now, not a leader or a role model but his father.

He turned to face the crowd, eyes meeting yours from a distance and he allowed himself to look at you, really looking at you.

He remembers a shock going through him at how beautiful you were, light shining on you as if Eywa herself had parted the clouds to let it highlight you amongst the rest of the clan.

He wondered at the time when you’d become so beautiful, when he’d become immune to noticing it. Wondered when your hair had grown from the choppy little cut you ran around with as a teenager to the carefully braided and styled way you were now wearing it. Wondered when you had grown into your body, when you’d developed into a woman with enticing softness and eye catching curves.

He was whisked away before he could speak to you, taken to the side by his mother and father. Shown off to the parents of the Tsakarem, Ronal, someone who he'd always known as Tonowari but was now having to get to know all over again as Olo’eyktan.

🌿

“Thank the Great Mother he doesn’t look like you, Skxawng..”

You remember the embarrassing shake of your voice as you held Ao’nung in your arms, Tonowari’s first born, so small and sweet. Looking so much like his mother Ronal. You wondered in that moment if he’d grow up to possess the same fierceness as his mother, the same bite in his words and bone chilling scowl that she shot at those who angered her.

You didn’t realise at the time looking down at his small, content face that he'd one day turn his mother's fierceness towards you. Throwing out sharp words just to hurt you, questioning you and accusing you of trying to replace his mother when he found out about the life you and his father had created.

🌿

“Tonowari”

He remembers the whisper of your voice behind him as he looked over the Suli family from the Omatikaya. The way your eyes met his own sent a shiver down his spine. It had been cycles at that point since you had called him by his name, a friendship once as strong as the waves of the ocean beyond the reef now settled like gentle ripples.

Your eyes sent him back to his childhood, to a time where you could speak without saying anything, to a time where he was closest to you.

He didn’t realise at that moment how much he really loved you, how much he had loved you his whole life. How the love he had for you was strong enough to cripple him, make him drop to his knees in front of the clan and scream it until his voice was rendered hoarse. 

He remembers your eyes flicking to Tsyeyk and how he looked at you, pleading. Your eyes took in the children surrounding Neytiri and Tsyeyk, full of warmth and kindness you had gained over many cycles before they shot to his own once again. Without words he knew what you were saying to him and he agreed.

Despite facing away from you to address the clan he could hear the grin in your voice as you spoke to the Suli family and it took the strength of a leader that he had become more used to possessing to hide his own grin at the sound.

🌿

“Ma’Yawntu”

He remembers calling you that for the first time not even a full cycle ago. His hands were on your shoulders as he begged you to look at him and calm down.

You had both returned from your outcrop, your mixed scents and day long disappearance a dead giveaway to what had taken place. 

The Tsahik had approached you both to confirm that you had mated before Eywa and before you had time to truly grasp what this all meant there was an announcement to the Metkayina of their Olo’eyktan taking a new mate. Your mind had finally cleared from your heat only to be bombarded by the reaction of your clan.

He remembers you nodding through the words of the clan, accepting offers from the finest performers of Tā moko (permanent marking/tattooing) to design your Moko Kauae (tattoo on lips and chin of women) to represent your new status amongst the Metkayina. Remembers the Tsahik announcing that there would be a handfasting ceremony in the village wharenui (village meeting hall). 

He remembers your breathing starting to pick up, your eyes shifting amongst the many smiling faces before you as you excused yourself and practically ran to your Marui. Practically ran from him.

He approached you a while later, only delayed by having to speak with the Tsahik, finding your curled up form shaking on your bed roll. He remembers gripping onto you and begging you to listen to him. 

He remembers the look of relief that flashed across your face as he called you his love and he vowed in that moment, privately and to himself, that he’d never let you go for another moment without knowing well and true how much he loved you.

🌿

“Ma’Tonowari”

You remember the first time it slipped it, the first time you called him yours in front of someone else. 

Your hand was clenched around his own large, rough hand and looking back you’re surprised at the lack of reaction he had to your bone-breaking grip. 

You’d received Tā moko before, different permanent markings covering your body in different positions and locations but your Moko Kauae was giving you more trouble than you had hoped. The Tsahik had warned you before-hand that your pregnancy might make your body more sensitive to stimulation, painful or pleasurable.

You had no time to be embarrassed, no time to overthink about what the others in the Tā moko whare (Permanent Marking/Tattoo building) may think of your exclamation because, before any of that could happen, Tonowari pressed a kiss against the back of the hand that was squeezing the life out of his own. Grounding you instantly and keeping your brain with him rather than with anyone else. 

His eyes trailed the marking being placed onto your skin, a matching Tā moko throbbing on his chest directly above his heart to show his dedication and love for you that he’d experienced for years, finally immortalised on his body.

🌿

“Ma’Tsmuke!”

He remembers the squeal of excitement in your voice as you did your best to make your way to the water quickly, your heavy stomach making your pace more underwhelming than it was in your head. 

You’d joined him on a Tsurak as he guided you both to where the Metkayina’s spirit brother’s and sister's were gathered.

He remembers speaking with his Tulkun, his brother. Telling him the tale of your mating and the baby in your belly that was his for you to bear. Remembers watching you swim with your sister, the water taking your weight and making your movements smoother once more. 

You had waved him over, presented him in front of your spirit sister in a way that made him flush. He had attributed your gushing words about his strength and how much you loved him to your pregnancy making you more emotional than usual.

He didn’t know at the time that your spirit sister was the only one you felt truly comfortable expressing your pure emotions to other than him. Didn’t know that through the polite smiles and nods at the members of the Metkayina that congratulated you both was a crippling insecurity that used its ugly voice to drag you down. 

🌿

“Ma’Yawntu..”

You remember the tired edge to his voice as he entered your Marui for the night. The puffiness of the bags under his eyes almost brought tears to your own as he sat beside you on your shared bed roll. 

The day had been long, the tarpongu (hunting party) returning almost empty-handed due to an unexpected Akula in the hunting area and Tonowari blamed himself for every lost fish from the catch and every injury that dotted the bodies of the hunters.

Your own day had been strenuous but nothing could compare to the strength of Tonowari’s ability to blame himself for clan matters. 

You remember offering him your kuru, silently telling him you wanted to share his worries and pain while sharing your love and reassurance.

You didn’t realise at that moment Tonowari was convinced you were the most incredibly beautiful thing he had ever seen. Hand outstretched presenting your kuru to him like a gift, large concerned eyes gazing at him with a sea full of love swimming inside them and belly swollen with his child.

🌿

“M-Ma’Wari..”

He remembers the desperate whimper trembling from your lips as he rolled your overly sensitive clit between his fingers, bullying another orgasm out of you that made your eyes roll back in your head and your legs shake.

It had started when you had complained about your appearance, something stupid about the swell of your pregnant stomach and full breasts that Tonowari had taken personal offense to.

Two of his thick fingers collect the slick drooling from your puffy cunt and teasingly circle your entrance before sinking inside you deep enough to brush against your g-spot on their first thrust. 

He remembers your hands desperately searching for something to grip on to, one settling in his hair where it gripped hard enough to sting his scalp and the other clenching your bed roll into a fist. His lips trailed from your sweat slick neck, heavily marked by his nips and sucks to your full breasts, latching you your tender nipple and twirling his tongue around it in a practiced motion that made your voice weak every time.

Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you begged for a break before you released a heavy squirt, your orgasm dragged out by his insistent press against your clit. 

He had given you room to breathe while he admired the wet spot you left on the bed roll because of him, your swollen cunt twitching with overstimulation and your body trembling from his actions.

Your pregnancy had subdued you slightly, made you a little more pliable and submissive just like the heat that got you pregnant in the first place had but it didn’t subdue you enough to stop you from sending Tonowari back with a shove until his back met the bed roll.

“Skxawng”

You both remembered the roll of his eyes, the smiles on your faces as you sank down on him, holding yourself up with whatever effort you could muster as you took his cock. The stretch was still a pleasurable burn despite the amount of times he had split you open on him during your pregnancy.

Tonowari stared up at you like you were Eywa herself above him, the evening sun lighting you from behind and creating a beautiful image, one he’d remember forever. 

“N-nga yawne lu oer”

You had beaten him to saying it again.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

A relieved sob rips out of your throat at your final push and you very nearly collapse into the arms of your mate who stands before you, eyes no longer focussing solely on you but also on the beautiful baby that your body had made for you both.

One of his large hands stays supporting you at the waist while the other reaches into the water, helping the sweet little life reach the surface for their first breath. Tears of happiness form in his eyes at the sight of his beautiful baby taking their first big gulp of air.

The Tsahik works quickly to remove the shawl placed around you from your shoulders, a shawl that all of the members of the clan had a form of contribution to, whether through harvesting materials or weaving. Wrapping the baby into the shawl, a metaphorical hug from the clan embracing them as your own arms embrace them in the loving hold of their mother. 

Meeting Tonowari's eyes you pass him your precious baby, the life you made together and you can’t hold back your grin at the way his arms make the baby look even smaller than they feel in your own. 

Looking to the edge of the water, your clan surrounds you and for the first time since mating with Tonowari you don’t question your position. 

Eyes meeting Ao’nung’s you can see the apology and pride for you in his own before he can even consider saying anything out loud. You send him a relaxed smile in understanding, the exchange going unnoticed by everyone except the two of you.

“Have you prepared a name to announce to the clan?” 

The Tsahik’s words send your brain on the search once more and when your eyes land upon Tsyeyk Suli standing amongst your clan, your brother's and sister’s, his mate and children by his side but missing a member, you know that your decision is made.

Tonowari raises his arms above his head, cradling your brand new baby in his hands as gently as he’s ever held anything before. The sound of excitement runs through the members of the clan who can see their Olo’eyktan’s new baby.

The low baritone of Tonowari's voice rings out, loud enough for the clan, the Tulkun and even Eywa herself to hear as he announces the name of your son.

“Neteyam!”

#tonowari x reader #tonowari smut #avatar x reader #avatar smut

[beansprean]

My Familiar's Ghost AU Masterpost

A wwdits season 5 au by beansprean!

Tag link

Tag link (chronological order - may not work on Android app)

Early pages on Patreon!

Below are all the art posts in their relative order in the timeline (not necessarily in posting order). Those labeled in parts are considered "official" while others may be questionably canon lol.

Updated poster

A curse in the house + movie poster (part 1)

Guillermo rants to Nadja (part 2)

Guillermo confronts Nandor (part 3)

Being embarrassing by yourself in your room

A summoning is attempted (part 4)

Nandor uses his brain

Reunion (part 5)

Laszlo’s Lament (part 6)

Guillermo gets teased

My chemical ghost

On a mission (part 7)

Unfinished business and energy lore

Guillermo recalls his invisible antics

Hypnotized! at the gas station (part 8)

Cool Guy Stu (part 9)

Dickheads

What are U Storing? (part 10)

Meanwhile back at the house (part 11)

Opening the coffin (part 12)

Not a plothole

Meanwhile back at the...Nadja what? (part 13)

He threw off his groove

All according to keikaku (part 14)

Ghosted by a ghost

Switches too (part 15)

The confrontation part one (part 16)

The confrontation part two (part 17)

The aftermath (part 18)

Commercial break (part 18.5?)

We are not the same (part 19)

Huh. That's not what I expected. (part 20)

The Guide > the guide (part 21)

She fucking told you

The Guide’s first 3 way (part 22)

Recap

Lazzo (part 23)

Return of the baby part one (part 24)

Return of the baby part two (part 25)

#1 Dad

Bear hugs (part 26)

Me legit shipping Colin and Stu

Hey haven't seen you since you staked me (part 27)

Tell nandor how you feel or draw 24

It's all ducked up now (part 28)

On his wall a tally of unfulfilled orgasms (part 29)

[rain sounds] [thunder sounds] (part 30)

La verdad (part 31)

La verdad parte dos (part 32)

La verdad parte tres (part 33)

Rug pull (part 34)

Wet & pathetic (part 35)

Might as well be rattling chains (part 36)

Consequences (part 37)

Sentimental (part 38)

Back to the start (part 39)

Dust and Virgins (part 40)

What's cooler than being cool (part 41)

Alright alright alright alright alright alright alright?! (part 42)

Run. (part 43)

Did he rehearse this on the way over (part 44)

Mark me down as scared and- (part 45)

And now you're gay (part 46)

The Touch (part 47)

¡Olé! (part 48)

Do you really want to make me cry (part 49)

The ritual of legitimacy (part 50)

She's been very busy

Very, very busy

Red means stop!! (part 51)

Grabby hands (part 52)

Whack whack whack (part 53)

You didn't want ME anymore (part 54)

No no let him finish (part 55)

Thinking of him (part 56)

Here's where it gets weird (part 57)

Bonded (part 58)

Los goosebumps (part 59)

Green means go (part 60)

Trick or treat (part 61)

Hello corporeality, nice to see you again (part 62)

Bad memory (part 63)

He hasn't gone soft he's gone hard

Get u a man who can kick your ass blind (part 64)

You're yes then you're no (part 65)

Fancy lad in the regular room (part 66)

Baby's first drink, sorta (part 67)

Sneaky sneaking (part 68)

The ghosts of your familiar (part 69😏)

Shoulda stopped on red (part 70)

I'm not crying there's just a JERK in my eye (part 71)

Colin Spaminson (part 72)

Get expositioned, idiot

Red and Blue (part 73)

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #mfg masterpost #nandermo #mlm #ghost Guillermo #vampire guillermo #shadowsart #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #laszlo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #colin robinson #nadja doll #wwdits the guide #wwdits stu #derek wwdits #lilith wwdits #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 29

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The last thing you and Law were able to fully enjoy together to prepare for the arrival of your babies was setting up the nursery in the second bedroom, after having your friends assist with clearing it out and cleaning up the carpet, that was.  Once completed, Law was now hunkered down to a strict schedule of meetings with almost hundreds of people in preparation for the biggest, longest, and most daunting surgery of his life.

But prior to that, he was able to spend an entire day with you, putting together cribs, assembling toys, installing two small dresser sets and changing tables, and organizing all of the baby clothing and supplies you received from your generous friends.  You had never seen Law more delighted, except maybe on your wedding day.  The way he carefully assembled one of the mobiles and hung it delicately over the top of one of the cribs brought a warm smile to your face.  As the days grew closer and closer, the thought of Law holding your babies made your heart flutter more and more.

The room was much smaller than your master bedroom, but it still had ample room as a nursery for two babies.  You had taken the opportunity (thanks in part to your lenient lease) to paint both of the walls a simple, muted mint-green color, calming to the eyes and yet still allowing the room to glow with light when the blinds were open.  Law had even bought a paper trim decorated with animal prints to place on the highest points of the wall, surrounding the corner where it touched the ceiling.  Both cribs were situated in opposite corners of the room, separated by a small window.  At the ends of both cribs sat their small dressers where their respective clothing, bedding, and supplies were stored, and above the dressers sat their changing tables and changing mats.  The rest of the room was dedicated to storing their plethora of toys until they were old enough to begin playing and exploring their world.  In your kitchen, two high chairs were placed against the wall, ready to be used at your table.  Two car seats with sturdy handles and foldable sun covers were ready and waiting in your extra closet, along with the folded up double stroller.  In your bathroom, Law had installed a small additional storage container for you to keep your unused breastfeeding supplies in, which he insisted on sterilizing three times a week despite not being touched yet.  Everything was ready to go, now the only thing left to do was wait.

But now, Law was spending more and more time at the hospital, which you completely understood, but that he lamented over.  Before he left every single day, and the second he returned home from however long his shift was, he kissed you on the lips before traveling down and planting two tender kisses against your bump.  The bump of which had become quite the hindrance as you approached the 36 week mark.  You were at 34 now, and according to Robin, your twins’ organs were fully developed and they’d be able to breathe on their own once born… whenever that was.

And while you were happy to have made it to 34, overjoyed even, the Braxton Hicks contractions were incredibly annoying.

“They are not indicative of labor,” your doctor had said.  “Trust me, you’ll know when your contractions go from false alarms to actual labor.”

You took her word for it.  But that didn’t make the 30 second increments of sudden cramping rippling across your belly at all hours of the day any better.  Sometimes, the pain would subside for an hour or two before coming back in full.  And they weren’t agonizingly painful, but they were prevalent enough that it was near impossible to ignore them.

While Law was at work more and more frequently in preparation for the surgery, Shachi and Penguin basically moved in with you.  They were walking Bepo, feeding Bepo, playing with Bepo, kissing Bepo, all while you were laying on your couch like a log.  A log with a huge belly and spontaneous Braxton Hicks contractions.

“What does Mama want?” Penguin asked from your kitchen, rifling through your pantry.

“Please don’t call me ‘Mama,’” you groaned.  It was endearing when Law did it, and very awkward when anyone else did.

“Got it.  What does the fat woman on the couch want?” he called back.

“Don’t make me come over there and stab you,” you yelled.  “I’m cranky enough as it is.”

Shachi emerged from the bathroom down the hall.  “Penguin quit bugging her.  That’s my job.”

“You guys are going to make me deliver early,” you snipped.

“Give the poor woman some food,” Shachi demanded, driving a harsh spank against Penguin’s ass through the man’s cargo shorts, resulting in a high-pitched yelp.  That finally forced a smile to break out on your face.

“I’m glad to see you two finally came to your senses,” you chided, trying to push yourself up against the armrest of your couch where a pillow was situated against your back to support you.  “What’s it like having graduated from roommates to sex?”

“It’s the exact same, but way hotter,” Shachi replied with a mischievous, toothy smile.

“Okay, I’m sorry for calling you fat, please stop talking about my sex with this lunatic,” Penguin groaned, emerging from your pantry with a few unopened boxes of pasta while you and Shachi giggled over his modesty.  “How does a simple baked ziti sound?”

You moaned from the couch.  “That sounds heavenly.”

Shachi left the kitchen to enter the main living space with you, sitting on the floor with his legs spread and allowing Bepo to crawl onto his lap.  “Nervous?” he asked, looking up at you.

Your hands soothed over your belly as another false contraction rippled through you in waves.  “More than nervous.  But I’ve been trying not to think about it.  I’m worried that too much stress will induce labor.”  After a brief pause, you added, “I’m worried that everything out of the ordinary will induce labor.”

The redhead hummed beside you, idly stroking the soft fur of Bepo’s head as the dog began to fall asleep on his lap.  “Do you have a hospital bag packed?”

You nodded.  “Law packed one for me a week ago.  It has all of our stuff in it… it’s pretty heavy.  He said, ‘If anything happens while I’m away and you have to go into L&D, have either Shachi or Penguin take this to the hospital.’”

“What’s ‘L&D’?” asked Penguin from the kitchen as he dumped two boxes of pasta into a large pot of boiling water.

“Labor and Delivery,” you clarified.  “We’re all assuming a lot of this is going to be spontaneous, so there’s no real indication of when I’ll have to go in because… well, we don’t know when I’ll give birth,” you explained.  “Most moms with one baby give birth at around 40 weeks, give or take.  But with twins, the average is apparently 36.  And I’m at 34.”

Shachi whistled through his lips.  “So it really could be at any moment.”

“Great time for Law to have to replace a man’s organs, huh?” Penguin piped up from the kitchen.

You laughed.  “The timing couldn’t have been better!”

The smell of baked ziti very slowly began to permeate your apartment as Penguin cooked, Shachi doted on Bepo, and you lounged on the couch, standing intermittently to continue to stretch your legs.  The contractions didn’t stop, if anything they increased in frequency as time slowly ticked away.  And every once in a while, one of your babies would kick against your muscle.

—

Law was fighting with every fiber in his body to stay awake.  He was leading his surgical team, for crying out loud.  He needed to be front and center for this meeting.  He drove the tip of his pencil through his pant leg into the flesh of his thigh to snap him out of his dozed state.  God, he needed coffee.

At the front of the conference room, directly in front of where Law sat, was the head of the hospital’s Transplant Transport team, which Law’s team joked was a very humorous name.  He was quite a stocky older man with a distended belly that barely fit into the gray dress shirt he had tucked into his slacks.  He was going through an itinerary on a pulled-down projector screen.  

“The patient, to remind those of you who just arrived, is a 51 year old man with a history of cardiopulmonary failure.  He has had two open heart surgeries in the past, and suffered a collapsed lung in his youth.  Both he and his family have been willing to try every treatment possible, and that is why we are meeting here today.  As far as I am aware, this hospital has never performed a double heart-lung transplant before, am I correct?”  He turned his attention to Law, who crossed on leg over his knee, asking silently for the lead surgeon’s approval.

“Correct,” Law affirmed, nodding his head.

“Dr. Trafalgar, would you mind walking your team through the procedure step-by-step?” the man asked, stepping aside to allow Law room to stand up in front of the packed conference room.

With a silenced grunt, Law stood up and smoothed his white doctor’s coat over his chest.  He took a deep breath and turned to face the room.  In front of him, every seat at the table and scattered chairs against the wall were filled by his surgery team, ICU nurses and doctors, hospital technicians involved with the case, and members of the Transplant Transport team.  “The surgery is scheduled to begin at 8:00 AM on May 12th.  That morning, a helicopter will be arriving with the heart and lungs from the donor patient, where they will then be transported by the transplant team to our operating room and hooked up to an artificial body where they’ll be kept living while we remove the damaged tissue from our recipient.  A coronary bypass machine will be used to keep the patient alive while his organs are removed and replaced.  This is the simple explanation, whenever everyone’s ready, I will begin discussing the more heavy aspects of the procedure.”

A few nods and curt words of consent were shared amongst the room.  Law took a deep breath and began speaking once more.

—

You were sitting naked on your bed, having just gotten out of the shower, when your phone started buzzing on your bedside table.  Your husband’s name popped up, immediately making you smile.

“Hey, baby!” you called into the receiver.  “How’d the presentation meeting go?”

A long, pent up sigh was heard through the speaker, making your heart pang with sympathy.  [About as good as it could’ve.  It’s hard explaining a 15 hour surgery to a group of 50-some-odd people.]

“Do you think your team is ready for it?” you asked, using one hand to slather moisturizing lotion onto your knees and calves.

[I think so.  I mean, I damn hope so.  I’ve had a lot of my nurses and team members review the same materials I’ve been studying to make sure everyone is on the same page.  As the day gets closer, I’m having my assistants complete simulated operations on their down time.]

“You can do that?”

[It’s a teaching hospital, we’ve got plenty of equipment.]

You grinned, dropping your legs and falling backward onto your bed, rubbing your belly with one hand while your other held your phone to your ear.  “Well, that’s good.”

Law’s voice hummed in agreement.  You heard him take another deep breath.  [I miss you.]

A part of you wanted to joke that he was only about five minutes away, but you knew what he meant.  He was missing the last few weeks of your pregnancy, something he had wanted to avoid since the two of you started trying for a baby.  It was vital to him that he was there to support you, to protect you, but once again, he wasn’t.  He was kept away from you by his taxing job, a job that he loved with a deep passion, but one that fought with his unwavering commitment to you.

Instead of commenting something witty in response, you replied with, “I know… I do too.”  A thought came into your mind, something you had read earlier in the day while your friends were out with your dog.  “Hey… Law?”

[Yeah, baby?]

“I know it’s hard to ask this over the phone but… I read online that parents with twins are more likely to suffer relationship breakdown.”

Law seemed to know what you were alluding to immediately, even without you having to explicitly state your worry.  [Remember everything I’ve been telling you?  About how much I love you and how that’s not going to change at any point?]

A smile tugged to your lips.  “Yeah…”

[Relationships break down because of stress.  But we’re good at working things out together.  We jump through hurdles at the same time because we communicate and we love each other.  That’s not going to change with babies.  Even with two new mouths to feed instead of one.]

“Your words always help me feel better,” you sighed into the receiver.  “I love you.”

[Get some rest, sleeping beauty.  I love you, too, always.]

—

34 weeks turned into 35.

The waiting was starting to take years off of your life, you thought.

Shachi and Penguin had bunked up in your living room.  You only saw your husband about three times while he prepared religiously for the operation.

Somewhere at another hospital, a comatose man was being prepped and signed off to be removed from life support and have his organs harvested.  And ten minutes from your apartment, a middle-aged man with his own family was getting ready to receive them.

And you were carrying two babies in your womb.  Two babies who, according to your very last ultrasound, were both facing head-first toward your cervix.  It was looking like a completely natural birth would be possible, as long as no complications arose in the moment.

Hopefully, according to your latest health workup, everything would be fine.  Your blood pressure had remained steady throughout your pregnancy, all of your blood panel conditions had been very healthy.  Your body felt ready, if the constant Braxton Hicks contractions were anything to go off of.

It was just.  The.  Waiting.

Your journal was almost completed.  You only had two more pages before your prompts switched to journaling the post-birthing experience.

You uncapped your pen and began writing.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you