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#also he’s very much a mamas boy
ickypuppi3 · 2 years
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leave.
why don't you leave, then?
billy stares at the road. the words echo around his head.
why don't you just leave?
billy thinks about his mom.
thinks about the first time he heard those words.
he was nine. nine years old. and he was tired.
tired because his mom and dad had been yelling the night before. billy didn't know what it was about. not really. he had tried to drown the words out with a hand over each ear.
they’d argued for hours.
it had started at dinner. with neil slamming a fist down onto the table. the plates had rattled. billy's drink had tipped over. he’d stayed still even as water spilled over the edge and dripped onto his leg.
neil had turned to his mom. asked her where she was last night. told her to stop lying. billy also wondered where she went. when she thought billy was asleep. when she shut the door quietly behind her and didn’t return until the next morning.
billy got sent to his room before she could reply.
he could still hear them shouting, though. could still hear what his dad called his mom. what his mom called his dad. the things they said to one another. the occasional thud of a fist. sometimes billy wondered if that’s what love was.
he fell asleep sometime around two.
the next day was saturday. the weekend. no school. no neil until the evening. he was out. neil was out and billy was at home with his mom.
ms. cooper, their neighbor, had come over after lunch. billy’s mom turned to him, kissed billy’s forehead and sent him to his room. billy didn’t mind. going to his room in the daytime meant he got to read. billy liked reading.
he’d gotten up once to go to the bathroom. opened the door slowly. heard snippets of the conversation being held in the kitchen.
“neil — get worse. — don’t you leave him?”
billy thought about it later. as him and his mom sat on the couch together. his head in her lap.
“mom?”
“yeah, baby?”
“why don't you?”
“why don't i what?” she stroked a hand through his hair.
“why don't you leave?”
“hm?”
“why don't you leave dad?”
her hand stilled. “what?”
“i heard ms. cooper. she asked you why you don't leave.”
billy heard her sigh. “why would i want to leave, sweetheart?”
billy frowned. thought the answer was pretty obvious. “because dad’s mean. because he's mean to you.”
no reply. he tried again. “mom?”
“i'm not going to leave.”
billy sat up. looked at her. “why?”
“because.” she smiled at him. billy thought that her smile looked weird.
billy grinned back anyway. “that's not an answer, mama.”
his mom reached out. flicked his nose gently. “what's gotten into you, baby? why’re you talking about this?”
“i'm just-” billy batted her hand away. laughed and poked his tongue out. “i'm just asking! ‘sides.” billy wound a lock of her hair around his finger “he’s mean to me as well. maybe both of us can leave?”
“don't be silly, sweetheart.” she cupped his face. met his eyes. “i love your father. so do you. no one's leaving.”
“but-”
the sound of a car in the driveway had billy jumping so hard he fell off the couch. his elbow caught the edge of the coffee table and he cursed, loudly.
his mom helped him up. told him to stop cursing. it wasn’t the first time he'd been told that. his school had even called home. spoken to his mom about his bad behaviour. asked if there was any reason for him to be acting up.
billy didn’t think he was acting up. told his teacher as much. that earned him another call home. neil answered that one, though.
billy tried not to think about that night.
his mom gave him a hug and told him not to repeat their conversation. she rubbed his elbow and kept her hand there as neil walked in. as billy greeted him. then she gave billy a gentle push and he got sent to his room for the second time that day.
the shouting started a few minutes later.
she left the next year. just after his tenth birthday.
billy wondered if it was his fault.
a few weeks after that was when neil hit him hard for the first time.
billy thought about the question he asked his mom. thought about how the blood in his mouth tasted.
why don’t you leave?
and now-
well now he’s eighteen. he's eighteen years old. and he's still tired. because neil had been on his ass the night before. because billy had done something. billy doesn't even know what he did. not really. just knows he did something.
and neil had put him in his place. had let billy know what he thinks of him.
the usual.
so, yeah. billy's tired. his eyes feel heavy as he drives. as he tries to listen to maxs’ rambling from the passenger seat. he looks out at the grey sky in front of him. at the trees.
god, he hates hawkins.
“why don’t you leave, then?”
billy jolts. the car swerves. his brain struggles to catch up. “what?”
“why” max starts slowly. like he’s stupid. “don’t you just leave?”
billy grips the steering wheel. swallows. glares at her. “you don’t want me here, shitbird? is that it?”
max rolls her eyes. mutters under her breath. “i’m just saying. if you hate it here so much.” she holds a hand up. gestures. “you could go.”
“is that right?”
“yeah.” max leans forward to fiddle with the volume when the song changes. billy doesn’t say anything. they don’t speak again. he drops max off at the arcade.
why don’t you leave, then?
billy stares at the road.
why don’t you just leave?
he could. he could go. just. drive off somewhere. leave it all behind. he could turn the car around and drive in the opposite direction. never look back.
billy thinks about california. the sun. the sea.
he thinks about being ten years old. the taste of blood in his mouth.
he thinks about his mom. susan. max.
he thinks about neil.
“i love your father.”
thinks about his dad.
“so do you.”
billy drives back to cherry lane.
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alicesbread · 3 months
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Spoilers for Mrs de Winter by Susan Hill!
Okay but this book has so much fucking fic material. Like. Imagine Ich finding out she's pregnant AFTER Maxim dies. And having to raise the fucking kid all by herself UNLESS someone comes her way and helps her with that (cough cough Danny maybe?) And having to restart her life for like the third time. Damn.
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transboykirito · 1 year
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i still hold onto the idea that when kirito has bad nights he’ll either sleep in with suguha or, if minetaka is working, midori. sugu gives the best comforting hugs and midori just has Mom Comfort that makes him feel super safe
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orcelito · 1 year
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rereading old thoughts & plans about the Mamakechi Lives au i had going a year ago now & being like "wow this is rly good actually, i should continue this" but knowing i have two other WIPs that i posted a first chapter for but have not touched since bc i am focused on my main thing, discacc, so everything else gets overall neglected
... but also. it's genuinely pretty good
lsdjfslkdfj for the hell of it i'll post the intro i wrote to it here . uh . you're welcome?
Akechi Goro lived by five undeniable truths.  One. The world at large was trash.  Selfishness ran rampant amongst the rich and the poor alike. While the rich hoarded their wealth, laughing at all who dared to be born common, the poor fought tooth and nail for any scrap of affluence they could get their pathetic hands on. Like crabs in a bucket - when one rose up, another would tug them down. Two. Success was everything.  In a society that valued productivity above human lives, to be less than perfect was to commit the worst mortal sin. Those who didn't meet society's expectations were fated to live in poverty and suffering. If one wanted to avoid that fate, they could be nothing less than the best. Three. Friends were useless.  Idealistic stories loved to enthuse about the 'power of friendship', but it was all empty. Pointless. Not once had Goro needed something as pathetic as friends. While others cried at being 'lonely', he spent his time being productive. The idea of friendship was simply a distraction - nothing more and nothing less.  Four. No one would help him. In his nearly 18 years of life, Goro had grown to accept that his life was his responsibility and his alone. Teachers tutted behind his back about how unfortunate he was, while peers mocked him for his ratty clothes. No one ever extended a hand to help him… but it was all the same to him. He didn't need their help. Five. His mother was his reason for living, just as he was hers.  Akechi Shiori was the embodiment of everything that society hated. A single mother, a former sex worker, a sufferer of mental illness and a survivor of attempted suicide. The world did its best to hammer her into the ground, but she never truly gave in. She never would, so long as she had her precious Goro… And she always would. He loved her like he loved no one else. Everything he was, everything he strived for, was for her sake alone. He would capture success so he could give her the life she was denied. He would support her so she could wake up one day after another with a smile.  She was everything to him, just like he was to her. 
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sttoru · 4 months
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‘the markings engraved on the wood hold unspoken memories; ones that will last forever.’
☀︎|tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re married. based on a request i got a while back; reader and toji marking megumi’s changes in height throughout the years to record how much he’s grown.
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“oh, it’s already time to do that stuff ‘gain, huh?” toji grunts as he was lazily slumping back on the couch — rough hand cradling the head of his three year old son.
megumi was surprisingly quiet whilst laying on top of toji’s chest. the reason why probably being the dancing fruits and vegetables on the television. those videos was pure entertainment for the little guy.
toji’s eyes follow your movements as you grabbed a sharpie and walked towards the door of the living room. you had purposefully grabbed the special sharpie that existed only to fulfil one, sole task;
which was to mark megumi’s current height on the doorframe.
“yep.” you nod enthusiastically. you were excited to see how much megumi had grown since the last time you measured his height. it was a fun thing to do, yet also bittersweet.
toji looks down at the little boy on his chest. he grins like a proud dad once he notices how content megumi was in his embrace, “c’mon, bud. y’r momma wants to see how much bigger and stronger you grew.”
megumi’s attention was instantly drawn to you at the words uttered to him. in a sudden burst of energy, he jumps off toji’s torso — running your way. he was bouncing up and down like his favorite candy was about to get handed out.
“alright, alright.” you giggle softly and tenderly rub megumi’s cheeks with your fingers. toji gets up from the couch and joins the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest whilst leaning against the wall.
your husband’s focus was elsewhere; his gaze following the previous records that were left on the wooden jamb. there were dates assigned to each line — each holding a precious memory of their own. toji lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and allows all the happy memories to flood back into his mind for a good moment.
he can’t stop the fond smile from forming on his face as he squats down to megumi’s level, “i bet ya grew a lot considering how much veggies y’ve been eatin lately.”
“yeah! big boy!” megumi grins back at toji — his playful grin resembling your husband’s. his tiny hands pat his belly, causing both his parents to laugh at his actions.
you pull off the cap from the sharpie and properly align your toddler against the doorframe. toji helped megumi stay still for the sake of measuring his height as accurately as possible.
you try to get the perfect dot right atop of megumi’s head. once you get it, you draw a straight line from that point to the end of the jamb. it’s then that you notice the difference between the previous blue line and the newest one you had just placed on the wood.
you stay silent for a few seconds after taking the tip of the sharpie away from the door jamb. there it was; that bittersweet look in your eyes. one that toji knew very well. he understands your emotions and doesn’t ever invalidate them since he feels the same deep within.
that beautiful and proud yet also surprisingly sad feeling. the one you get when you realise just how fast time flies.
“mama! mama! look!” megumi excitedly points out the obvious difference between the two lines, clapping his hands out of pure delight, “i’m shtronger! bwigger!”
the pure face of joy that megumi made, was enough to put a smile on your face as well. you instantly scoop your son up in your arms and hug him tightly to your body. megumi’s nose scrunches up, left cheek squished against your chest with a faint giggle escaping his lips.
toji’s expression was one of content in the meantime. a content man whom had finally found the reason as to why life was worth living.
his hand reaches out, index finger curling around the collar of megumi’s shirt from behind. he gives it a small yank as if trying to catch the boy’s attention. once toji gains exactly that — he opens his arms and motions for a hug;
“what ‘bout papa, kid?” your husband raises an eyebrow. he tries hard to fake a pout, though only ends up looking quite silly, “can papa get a big ol’ h—”
before toji could finish his sentence, megumi unexpectedly jumps into his arms. this causes toji to actually stumble back — falling out of his squat and into a sitting position on the floor. that was quite the surprise, but, a pleasant one it sure was.
the dark-haired man rolls his eyes before nuzzling his nose into megumi’s hair. his strong arms engulf the toddler completely—not wanting to let go any time soon.
“y’re gonna need to eat a lot more so you can grow up ‘n be as tall as me.” toji teases after a few seconds of comfortable silence. he squeezes megumi’s cheek and looks down at him fondly, “i’m sure you’ll even outgrow me ‘n your momma one day.”
the mention of your son one day growing up and becoming taller than you makes that solemn look return to your eyes. your bottom lip sticks out and your eyebrows furrow.
toji notices and regrets saying what he said whilst already knowing you were in a sentimental mood. plus, you always got even more emotional when talking about how quick megumi was growing up. it was like he was a newborn just yesterday.
“wah! mama. . .”
even megumi notices the change in your expression and he huffs. his eyes dart back towards his dad’s and his tiny fists (softly) land on toji’s chest twice. like he was giving out a punishment for ‘upsetting’ you.
“papa make mama sad! papa bad!” megumi sticks his tongue out at toji and runs back towards you — tiny arms circling your neck as he clings onto you in hopes to make you feel better.
your son’s cute antics were enough to lighten up the mood, causing both toji and you to laugh again. even if a tear had already rolled down your cheek from before.
you were about to wipe it away yourself, though was stopped by two hands: a large one and a small one. one belonging to toji and the other to megumi.
“aht aht,” toji narrows his eyes at his kid, “i’m the one who made y’r momma cry, so i gotta be the one comfortin’ her to make it right.”
“no! papa made mama sad. i make mama happy ‘gain. not papa.” megumi does the same back, though adds fuel to the fire by sticking his tongue out like earlier.
and. . . there they go again.
your husband and son go back and forth about who gets to wipe your tear away and comfort you. you knew toji was competitive - even with his own son - but it was funny to see how he still argued with a three year old like it was some serious business.
you couldn’t even be sad any longer as the squabbling makes you giggle — though also leaves you with a giddy feeling in your chest.
time seems to slow down when you’re engrossed in rememberable moments like these.
and all you could do was wish that they would last forever.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months
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little protector
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words: 800
warnings: dad!rafe, soft!rafe, pregnancy cw
“daddy, cut that out right now!” your sons voice rings out, making rafe pull away from your mouth.
“what did you say little man?” rafe raises his eyebrows at your son, who is standing at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips and an exaggerated angry expression on his face.
“do not kiss my mommy!” felix argues, crawling onto the bed to push at rafes chest while you giggle, his little hands not doing a single thing.
“but she’s my wife.” rafe says, frowning when you pull felix onto your lap and press a kiss to his cheek.
“and she’s my mommy!” he argues right back. it’s a recent development, felix showing possessiveness over you. it started at the grocery store when a tall man helped reach something off the top shelf, only for felix to kick him in the shin. its only progressed since then.
“you’re gonna have to learn to share, fe.” rafe says with a pointed look, able to move closer now that felix is happy in your arms.
“oh shush, let him enjoy being an only child for a little bit longer.” you whisper, knowing felix only has about six more months until he’s going to have to be sharing you with a new baby brother or sister as well as rafe.
“but i want to kiss you.” rafe pouts as felix ducks his head to snuggle into your chest, little hands gripping at your shirt as rafe loops an arm around your shoulder.
“as soon as he’s asleep.” you stroke your sons back, leaning your head against rafes shoulder, who sneaks a kiss to the top of your head without felix seeing.
“can’t come soon enough.” rafe says, making sure to keep his voice low for the next part. “you are so sexy when you’re pregnant.”
you roll your eyes. you’re barely showing, which is why you decided to wait to tell felix, wanting to make sure everything went well before explaining that he’s about to have a little sibling and that they’re growing in his mamas tummy.
“mommy.” felix whines when he realizes you attention isn’t solely on him.
“what is it my love?” you ask, petting over his hair.
“can i sleep with you tonight?” he asks, blinking up at you with puppy eyes that are so hard for you to say no to.
“but you’ve got your big boy bed!” you remind him. “i can read you a story before you go to sleep though.” “no.” felix complaints, thrashing his body to show his disapproval, but you know its just because he’s tired, having already gotten him ready for bed until rafe distracted you with his kisses. “wanna sleep with you mommy!” “honey, this is mama and daddys bed.” rafe says gently. he never thought his son would give him a run for his money when it comes to parenting, but he severely underestimated the toddler years.
“are you going to kiss again?” felix crinkles up his nose in an expression that is far beyond his years.
rafe sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “i think when you gave birth you transferred all of your sassiness to him.” you let out a laugh, which only upsets felix more.
“fefe, i kiss your daddy all the time. but-” you continue before he can react, “i also give you lots of kisses. i love you both very very much.” “i love you too mama.” felix leans in, puckering his lips out. you accept and press a kiss before smattering more around his face, making him giggle.
“i love you too daddy.” felix says shyly, before holding his hands out for rafe to pull him onto his lap, making you smile. felix has never had an issue with showing rafe affection, it’s just recently come up with not liking to see it between you and rafe, even getting in between the two of you when you cuddle, or pulling your hands apart.
“i love you too felix.” rafe gives your son a kiss before pulling him into a hug, and you have to turn your head to wipe away tears, your hormones already being a little crazy from the baby growing in your tummy.
“can you both read me my bedtime story?” felix asks.
“of course baby.” rafe says as you slide out of the bed, accepting felix as he jumps into your arms for you to carry him. rafe pauses as he watches you, son in your arms, baby growing in your tummy, a glowing smile gracing your face. 
if you would have told rafe that this would be his life when he was a teenager, he would have spat in your face, but then you appeared, changed his life around and gave him a home and a family he never knew he needed.
“you coming?” you ask, felix’s head buried in your shoulder as you pause in the doorway.
“yeah.” rafe nods, having to blink back tears himself. “yeah, i’m coming.”
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byunpum · 4 months
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Mama's boy
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Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's
Warning: none, lo'ak being a sweet little potato for is mama. Sweet family moment.
Request: (anon) You were incredible in these new chapters, if it wasn't much, I would have been able to do a trisal story about Jake, neitiry and reader human where she has 2 more hybrid children (half human,Half na'vi)..
Note: I have always believed that avatars may be able to reproduce with humans. Both males and females. Since there are human traits in their DNA. So both jake and his children could reproduce with any human. That is my theory.
AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)
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You loved days like this, it was a fresh and calm day in the jungle of Pandora. No one in the family had anything important to do. Just relax and spend time together. If anyone had told you that in a few years you were going to be sitting quietly on the floor of your home. With your son on your lap, while playing with one of his toys. With such loving partners, you wouldn't have believed them. And you had a good point for not believing. Neytiri and Jake were your mates, while you were human. The only human who was mated to two na'vi. The only human who had given birth to a na'vi baby, naturally.
Lo'ak had been born as a na'vi. With his distinctive braid, tail, skin color, ears etc. Just like his father, jake. But his human features were always there, he inherited your hands, some facial features that made him different from his siblings. Like kiri, they were a mixture of human and na'vi. This was not important to you, in your family these differences were not important and everyone was treated equally.
Neytiri was running around in circles playing with kiri, while neteyam was playing with jake. Meanwhile lo'ak was sitting very comfortably on your lap. Sucking his little finger, while you cuddled him. He was very peaceful, well…when he was with you. The bond that lo'ak had with you was very strong, he needed his mommy with him all the time. Neteyam and kiri were more active, while lo'ak preferred to be by your side. You tried to keep him away from you, so that he would become more independent. But it was all in vain, even mo'at herself told you that this was normal. That eventually he would become more independent, but he was already 5 years old, and he didn't seem to improve. Of course, this never bothered you… lo'ak became your own tail. Always behind you. Lo'ak could be with neytiri, about 3 to 5 hours. But then he would cry for you to hold him, and it was the same with jake. Lo'ak just wanted to be with you.
Neteyam ran to you, hugging you. The boy was about your size, but you didn't care. Hugging him back, to give him lots of kisses on his cheeks. Neteyam didn't notice but pushed lo'ak off your lap, causing the boy to fall to the ground. "mama… I want to be with you" says neteyam, now sitting where lo'ak once was. Lo'ak immediately began to cry. It was a very big and exaggerated whine. "Calm love…neteyam needs to be with me too" you try to calm him down, but you could barely touch him. Because neteyam was curled up on your chest. Neytiri comes closer, taking lo'ak in her arms to calm him down.
After a long six minutes, lo'ak calms down. But you can see how the child looks down from above, on Neytiri's shoulder. His eyes were watery and he was pouting. You try to ignore him, he has to learn that you were not only from him. Neteyam was also your son, as was Kiri. And they too demanded your attention. Kiri approaches his younger brother, hopping from neytiri's feet. "You're a mama's boy… an ugly, crying baby," Kiri says jokingly. Neytiri scolds her, while you and jake couldn't hold in the laughter. It was funny, but you take Kiri by the arm. Sitting her down next to you.
"Kiri…that's not right, lo'ak is special. He needs a lot of love" says neytiri holding the child in her arms, hoping he doesn't start crying. "No…mama is mine!!!!" says neteyam, hugging your neck more. Lo'ak whimpers, lifting his head from neytiri's shoulder. "Noooo mama is mine" shouts lo'ak.
"No!!!, only mine!!!" neteyam yells back, sticking out his tongue. This makes lo'ak upset, and he starts to cry. "nooo mama!!!! Let go of neteyam!!!!! Mama let go of me, I want to go on the floor" lo'ak is crying, while neytiri giggles a little. It's adorable to watch as the two children fight for your attention. Jake gets up from the floor, walking to your direction and taking neteyam from your lap. To now lay him down on the floor. Kneeling on the floor to carry you in his arms, bridal style. You laugh, as the children begin to whine.
"Technically, your mom is all mine" jake says, sticking his tongue out at his kids, reaching over to give you a kiss on your forehead. Watching as they start to whine. Neytiri was giggling, while now all the kids wanted her to carry them to keep up with jake. "Well…I'd say I'm more Neytiri's than yours" you say, reaching up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose. (Y/N is wearing the oxygen mask I'm always mentioning, "click here" to learn more about it) Neytiti lets out a loud laugh, you could see her cheeks turn purple. Neytiri had a soft spot for you. Jake lets out a sigh of surrender and hugs you tighter. Leaving kisses on your neck, while you laugh.
In the evening, everyone was settled in their respective hammocks. You were finishing getting Kiri settled, while Jake put the boys to bed. After a while, you lay down in your own hammock, you were tired. You were about to go to sleep, when you feel little hands touching your arm. You open your eyes, finding lo'ak's little face. The child had his arms outstretched for you to carry him. Laughing a little, you hold the child. And settle him on your chest. Snuggling him with your arms, giving him lots of kisses on the crown of his head. "My beautiful baby…you are sad" you lullaby to lo'ak. He only responds with a "hmmm" and falls asleep in your arms.
Jake comes up to you one last time, to check that all was well. As he approaches, he notices how you and lo'ak were cuddling. "I imagined he was with you," Jake said softly. Leaning in to give you a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Well… you know what he's like" you joke. "He's a mama's boy…a cute mama's boy. You know…" jake pauses, thinking about how he was going to say what he was going to say next. "Eventually you'll have to let him grow up…kids his age are more independent and " jake is interrupted, when one of your hands goes to his mouth. "Shhh shut up…when it's time, he'll grow up on his own…in the meantime we'll be here for him." you speak, slapping jake's arm playfully. There was a small silence, until you see a playful smile on Jake's lips.
"Babe…why don't you leave lo'ak here quietly and come sleep with me and neytiri" jake takes your hand and gives it a kiss on the palm, causing you to giggle and blush. "Together…the three of us" jake jokes biting your fingers. You laugh softly, trying not to wake lo'ak. You think about it for a moment, and the truth is you missed sleeping with jake and neytiri. Lo'ak consumed too much of your time, so you accept Jake's offer. You carefully settled lo'ak down, making sure he was comfortable.
Jake was behind you, excited. You could hear his tail bump between his legs. He held your hand, walking quickly to the hammock that you and Jake and Neytiri usually shared. Neytiri watches as you and Jake approach. She gets excited, it had been about 3 months since you last slept with them. Reaching out her hand, she takes yours. You climb in easily, feeling Jake hold you around the waist. Both of you settling into the hammock. You were in the middle of them, neytiri hugged you. While Jake hugs you from behind, burying his head in the back of your neck. "I missed this," says neytiri, enjoying the comfort. A couple of minutes later, lo'ak's crying began to be heard. You lift your head from neytiri's chest, beginning to stand up. When you feel her hug you tighter. "No… Y/N you must let him calm down himself" neytiri says. "Y/N, neytiri is right" jake speaks.
"He ate, he's clean and he's comfortable. He can be alone" says neytiri, she was serious. You knew you had to leave him alone, but lo'ak was your baby. Your only baby. "If he doesn't stop crying in five minutes, I'll go check on him. You stay here and rest," Jake speaks, kissing your shoulder. Your partner had you in his arms, if it wasn't for that you'd be at lo'ak's side by now. And as if by magic, lo'ak stopped crying. Jake got out of the hammock and checked from afar. Seeing how the child had already fallen asleep.
"See…it's all right," says Neytiri, hugging you even tighter. You snuggle closer to her. As you feel jake settle in behind you. Hugging you both. This parenting thing was all new to all of you.
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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months
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can you pleaseee make a sequel to the "jjk men hurting y/n" (gojo part) where their son wonders if they can marry y/n when they grow up. you know what i mean.
(also oh my goddddd that fic had me rolling in bed giggling and kicking my legs 😭😭😭😭)
Nothing better than that, thank you so much for your request and liking my work<3
Part l can be found here under Gojo's part
Gojo's and (y/n)'s son wanting to marry (y/n)
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Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader
Word Count: 1,2k
Warnings: fluffness overload
Tags: @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @defnotriri @smarsd @sharycatx3 @kaiserkisser @sanicsmut
As usual, feel free to leave a comment or reblog <3
What happened on that fateful day of the night parade was hard to swallow for both you and Satoru. That unimaginable grief of the breakup when all he wanted to do was to save you. Suguru who wanted to not only kill you but Yuta for your abilities and died himself.
It was all too much to handle, a test for both of you.
“Why didn’t you just tell me? I told you I’m pregnant, that I’m expecting your child and you-….You looked at me with nothing but hatred in your eyes…”
“I’m so sorry, (y/n). Believe me, it killed me from the inside to be so cold to you when in reality, I wanted nothing more than holding you in my arms and tell everyone. But there was no other way. If I’d told you about Suguru’s plan, you would have insisted on coming to Tokyo. And if I didn’t and you’d find out yourself, you would have been absolutely mad and would have been there anyway. Please, all I wanted was to keep you safe. I had no other choice…”
For the first time in your relationship, you saw Satoru Gojo cry in front of you, his hands wrapped around your face. Oh, if you only knew how hard it was for him, how it broke his very own heart within these three cursed weeks.
But now you’re here, safe and sound.
“What happened to Suguru?”
Your innocent question pierced his heart like a knife. Satoru wanted to break down in front of you, too overwhelmed by everything that happened over the last weeks.
But he had to be strong. For you and his unborn baby.
“He didn’t make it.”
Your heart dropped, arms instinctively wrapped around your boyfriend’s trembling frame. Oh, your Satoru. All the things he had to endure over this time. Despite you had every reason to be mad at him you simply can’t. He did this for you, after all. And who knows at what cost.
“We’ll get through this together, okay? You, me and our baby.”
And after months of grieving and talking everything out, you did eventually. You did live through it all: the difficult pregnancy, you almost dying during birth, Satoru getting sealed at Shibuya, the loss of many good friends. It was never easy, you thought about giving up all too often.
But now you’re sitting at the kitchen table with your three year old beautiful son who owns the eyes of his gorgeous father and your hair color.
“Good morning my lovelies”, Satoru purrs against your ear before gently placing a kiss on your cheek.
“Stop that!” your son suddenly shouts, gazing at your husband and his very own father visibly upset.
Huh, what has gotten into him today? Normally he doesn’t mind much when Satoru shows you affection. You tilt your head to the side, Satoru nods towards you.
“What, are you jealous, young man?” Satoru asks challengingly, sitting down next to his son who crawls into his lap immediately.
“You can’t just kiss mama like that because I wanna marry her!” the little boy in front of you announces, determination sparkling in his blue orbs.
Satoru and you stare at each other bamboozled and before you can help yourself, a little giggle escapes your lips. Is this why he was acting so weird? Where does this thought come from?
“You wanna marry her?” Satoru repeats.
“I learned that you kiss at a wedding. So you can’t kiss mommy!”
“Oh, I understand. And how did you get the idea of marrying her?” Satoru continues the conversation.
Your heart feels like exploding in warmth, pure joy speeding through your veins. Seeing your sweet little angel sitting on his father’s lap while announcing that he’ll marry you makes tears sting in your eyes. After all the things you’ve been through, the fights, the injuries, the worries, is this really your life right now? Sitting at the breakfast table while having a delightful conversation with your family?
“I love my mama because she makes me brave.”
Satoru’s eyes dart towards you, so touched by the words of your little one that you can immediately see the glossy shine in them. It’s still like a dream to him, sitting here in peace with both of you by his side. This was definitely worth all the fights and losses he had to endure over the last years. This precious little moment of innocence and pure love.
“Y’know little man, just because you love someone you can’t automatically marry that person. That here is your ma, which means you can’t marry her. If someone gets to marry her that would be me”, Satoru clarifies with his oh so sweet voice.
You desperately try to hold back tears. The love you hold for your little family is more than you could ever explain, deeper than any ocean on this planet. Your son might not be aware of it know, but the fact that he’s sitting here so unbothered was never granted, that all of this will work out was never given.
But now it is. Now you’re sitting there all together. And your son just announced that he wants to marry you.
“But why can you marry her and I not?” he requests, lips forming that little pout that reminds you so much of his father.
“Because you already have her as your wonderful mama. Leave some for the rest”, Satoru replies.
Your son shrieks in his father’s loving arms as he begins to tickle him, laughter filling the room. If anyone would have told you 5 years ago that this will be your life, you would have laughed at him. You really thought this world has no joy for you left, that you and Satoru are cursed through being jujutsu sorcerers.
But that child in front of your very own eyes isn’t a curse. No, it is a true blessing just like Satoru himself. You can’t help but admire him for his strength, for his never ending optimism in this world that tried to tear him down multiple times. Always running back into your open arms, always looking out for you and your family. How do you even deserve him, the man in front of you who looks at your child lovingly?
“But why did you not marry her then?”
You tilt your head to the side, amused by the question of your little one.
“That’s a really good question, angel”, you comment sweetly.
Of course you know all too well that the last few years didn’t have any room for a wedding. Between so many deaths, getting sealed and constant fighting, there wasn’t enough time to arrange something like that. But still, you love to tease your boyfriend a little bit.
“I definitely will someday”, Satoru ensures, gaze set on you with a breathtaking smile.
“And I’ll be there too!” your son cries out in excitement.
“Of course you will, Suguru! Ain’t no wedding without my favorite man by my side!”
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mochinomnoms · 22 days
Note
i know in the leech family that its a running joke that the mc is their cleaner shrimp and i cant help but think when its finally the leech parents turn!
Imagine mc and the leech family are going out to do some family bonding and the mc causally picks off some lint or hair off papa leech or mama leech and their mood just instantly brightens :D They go like “thank you dear! Is there anything else on me?” And the parents are just spinning around happy because their child-in-law is doing shrimp things with them! (Meanwhile jade and floyd are off to the side being like “what about me D:<”)
also may I be 🪸 anon or 💫 anon?
YEEAAAAH FAMILY SHRIMP!!!
I think it's a very sweet idea! Whether it's just one of the twins or both that you've gotten involved in, they both enjoy your fretting and picking at them. Floyd most often gets your attention, as he's always getting up to stuff and messy. However, he's more prone to scrapes from basketball and burns from cooking at the lounge, so he gets lots of attention from you. Floyd loves it, he loves being taken care of for once, instead of being feared or seen as a big bad eel. He needs loving too! He needs to be treated tenderly and kindly. Floydie just wants to be loved, and who better to do that than you?
Jade on the other hand will just get dirty when hiking and foraging, but rarely get any scrapes or cuts. He might bruise here or there depending on how it went, but over all you're more likely to need to clean stray twigs, leaves, and dirt for him. In fact, you'll find Jade approaching you after his extensions, every single time, asking for your assistance. Maybe join him in the bath and help him clean up? As his cleaner shrimp? Pretty pleeease? After all, the caretaker needs some caring too sometimes.
When you eventually get introduced to the family and properly fit into your place with the Leeches, with an appropriate shrimp merform! Papa and Mama Leech are just happy that their boys have such a sweet partner. You further solidify your spot when they learn about your “shrimp” tendencies. They think it's so cute! So imagine their delight when you start tending to them like you do their sons!
Papa Leech will often find himself get into...”scuffles” after work. Normally, the family doctor would be available to patch him up, but they were already attending to a patient of theirs. Here comes their resident shrimp, offering to patch him up! You babbling about Floyd and how he always got hurt from his activities at school, so it wasn't a problem. At this point, you're practically a pro! Papa Leech has stars in his eyes, though, he has the cutest child-in-law!!! And you've been doing this for his boys, for free??!! Screw Floyd and Jade if they ever break up with you (like they'd ever would) cause Papa is keeping you in the family for the foreseeable future. Not only are you convenient, but you care for him like family, he'd be a barnacle to let you go. If you're not already married to his boys, prepare yourself, cause he's already organizing the engagement and wedding. No, he did not ask his boys beforehand.
As for Mama Leech, she's been repeated described as a worrywart, and overly cautious, especially regarding her family. I think that, since you weren't brought up in the family like her boys, would be prone to keeping you at her side. If Papa and the twins are off for “work” then you can find her snatching you up for some mother-in-law time to keep you nice and safe! This is when she gets her own version of shrimp tending, via you doing her hair and makeup! She does love dressing up and looking pretty, and is delighted when you start brushing through her hair with your fingers, braiding it and softly applying her lipstick. It's been so long since her boys were little and played dress up with her! But here you are, so sweet and soft and gentle with her! She's now become attached, if you so much as try and leave the family, Mama is sobbing and begging you to stay, while also strangling her sons for what ever they did wrong (she knows they did something the little troublemakers).
I'd say that the twins only get mildly jealous, after all, the more time you spend with their parents the less they get with you! And you're their partner!!! They suppose they should be happy that you get along so well with their parents. Except Floyd. Floyd wishes to monopolize your time and will hide you away with Jade in a dark coral nook. He called you Shrimpy first, it's his right!!!
(I will dub thee 🪸 anon!! welcome!)
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phntmeii · 7 months
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♡ Dating Thomas Hewitt Headcanons
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❝ I often ask myself, 'What makes a man a killer?' ❝
[ SFW + No Gendered Terms]
General Warnings: Mentions of Murder, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Hoyt being Hoyt
A/N: Congrats to Tommy for winning the last poll for headcanons :) I love this man sm. I scour the entire internet just for fanart of his body he's so soft and aaaaa !!!
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🔪 Tommy is unfamiliar with romance entirely. The most he'd gotten to know of it were stories from Luda Mae during childhood but he never got to experience it himself.
🔪 And the mention of what a "man does to a woman" by Hoyt wasn't appealing to him in any way. Tommy just focused on providing for the family and ignoring what Hoyt said.
🔪Then, a new set of victims made the mistake of running into Hoyt and Tommy was to do his job. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't help but stare at you when he brought you down to the basement and rather than running, you clung to him instead to hide from Hoyt.
🔪 For once, he wanted to protect you while Hoyt yelled at him to just kill you. But, everything was different this time. Someone willingly approached him rather than screaming.
🔪 Tommy was firm in his decision, towering over Hoyt as his own silent threat to keep you around. And so he did. While he couldn't speak to you, he tried his best to care for you despite you now being a prisoner in a home of cannibals.
🔪 He'd carefully place a plate in front of you and then just sit and stare at you, waiting for a reaction or for you to eat. Telling him you don't trust the meat in the case that it's human has him confused because they taste fine to him? But since your stuff was taken from you, Luda will just buy other foods for you to eat with your money.
🔪 In truth, Tommy is just as scared of you as you are of him. He doesn't want to upset you in any way because for once, it seems like he has a friend. An attractive one too. He waits for you to be more comfortable around him.
🔪 Tommy is a light sleeper so he'd have you sleep in his room with him. If you were to try and sneak out, he'd be right there to stop you. But, it's not like you have much of a way to sneak out anyway since he is completely clung to you in his sleep without realizing it. It's as though you were his pillow or plushie to cuddle during the nighttime.
🔪 When Luda noticed the way Tommy treated you, she would whisper little things he could do to impress you or make you happy. She always wanted him to find someone, especially since Tommy had his struggles.
🔪 He gets nervous when trying to do some of what Luda suggested because it felt like he was a little boy again. A little lovesick boy. But he’s a mama’s boy and knows Luda is helping him. He'd approach you and hand a flower to you, just as she suggested, hoping that it works to make you happy.
🔪 Some days, you’ll wake up to find a little note in your dresser. It’s in poor handwriting but you can tell it’s from Tommy. He picked it up from what Luda used to do—Leave notes in his lunch each day.
🔪 The first note you got had some drawings on it. You could make out smiley faces and hearts. The only legible words on the note was “I LOVE YOU”.
🔪 Tommy is very careful around you since he's aware of his size. He tries to be like a gentle giant, although, he can default to being too gentle, treating you as though you were made of glass.
🔪 He's scared to hurt you. After all, that's the only thing Hoyt has him do. Gods forbid if he did hurt you in some way, he'd slink away into the basement to avoid being around you. He would need some coaxing to understand that you're okay.
🔪 Overall though, Tommy is an absolute sweetheart. He's very attentive and willing to do whatever to make you happy. And he's also very easy to please! He's been taught to be happy with the minimum so anything besides that immediately makes him overjoyed.
🔪 Tommy's favorite thing to do is hold hands with you. He's self-conscious over the fact that his hands are scarred and rough but he can't help but be an internal mess at the electric touch between you two.
🔪 Sometimes when he's upset with Hoyt's constant yelling and berating, he'll toss you over his shoulders like nothing and bring you outside with him so he can cool down with you.
🔪 He finds solace in you. You'll find how Tommy will just sometimes stare at you because he's admiring your appearance. He has a particular fascination with your eyes. He finds it hard to look at them directly but when you aren't looking at him, it's all he can focus on.
🔪 One thing about Tommy: As much as he can be sweet, he still is a brutish murderer. Any victims who even catch a glimpse of you are his first targets.
🔪 It can be almost unnerving how easily Tommy can switch like that. To be so gentle with you to becoming a murderous beast towards anyone else.
🔪 One quick way you’ve seen Tommy get upset is when he heard Hoyt talk explicitly about your body. Hoyt did it specifically to make you uncomfortable as that is what gets him off most.
🔪 But his grin was quickly wiped off by how Tommy turned around and stared down Hoyt. He didn’t have much restraint but decided to simply pick you up and leave to his room with you. His silent threats spoke for him.
🔪 He also has a tendency to be paranoid about you staying. He makes sure you understand that this is your home now. He is your family. You wouldn't leave him alone again, right?
🔪 Tommy isn’t that hesitant to never take off his mask but he is around you because of his insecurities. He knows what generally attractive people look like considering the victims he’s caught before and knows he doesn’t look like that.
🔪 He grows more accustomed to having his mask off when you aren’t afraid to kiss and caress his face. You couldn’t be lying about that when your touch was so sweet and gentle with him.
🔪 Tommy’s main Love Languages to give are: Acts of Service and Quality Time. He loves to receive in return Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.
🔪 Tommy likes to go out of his way to do things for you because he likes to feel useful to you. Anything he can do to help you out and he’s rushing to help.
🔪 Any errand around the house he immediately takes up so he can hear you praise him for it.
🔪 If he sees you working, he’s made it a habit to get you tea or lemonade. In the mornings, he’s used to waking up early so he’ll let you sleep in and surprise you with breakfast. Before bed, he has a whole ritual for you before going to bed.
🔪 Pulling back the covers, making sure the pillows are cold and plumped up. And once you walk in, he’s planting kisses across your face, picking you up and tucking you in while he gets in beside you and holding you close.
🔪 One of his favorites to do is when you ask him to pick something up for you if it’s too heavy. When you compliment him for being strong, he’s barely letting you pick anything up anymore because he wants to hear you praise him more.
🔪 Tommy also just generally loves to spend alone time with you. Constantly being around his family in the home can leave him feeling slightly stir crazy.
🔪 He loves to just sit under a tree, under the shade and away from the harsh sun, beside you and just enjoy your presence.
🔪 Tommy was a little hesitant at the suggestion of a spa day with face masks and other things, considering he’d have to take off his mask but seeing you in the same face mask as him in the mirror and he was silently asking each week to do it again and again.
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⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
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jilixthinker · 1 month
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SKZ AS SUBS - MAKNAE LINE 🥀
as the self-proclaimed sub!skz ambassador, i felt the need to share my version to the internet just because this was boiling inside of my brain for too long, so... i am sorry ♡
content warning: sub!skz, dom!fem reader, unprotected sex, mention of subspace, dacryphilia, perv tendencies, overstimulation, light BDSM, boob sucking, mommy kink, noona kink, anal play (m receiving), cross dressing, feet play, lactation kink, food play, dumbification, pet play, choking, breeding kink, cum play, virgin, reversed corruption kink, sex toys, masturbation, oral sex (both receiving)
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HYUNG LINE MAKNAE LINE
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➛ Han
- whiny™️. the word whiny was created for hannie himself. he becomes a sobbing mess after just one second of you touching him, even if it's not sexual;
- dacryphilia will soon become one of your biggest kinks, even if you didn't explore it before meeting him. he cries, pants, sobs and hiccups at every slight friction and will plead to not to stop, ever;
- tears are not the only thing making your boy messy. because he also drools. a lot. he does it when he is on top of you, face hidden in the crook of your neck, and when it's you topping him, cheek pressed into the soaked pillow under his head;
- with hannie you are gonna have multiple rounds almost everytime. he doesn't last too much, poor angel, because he is always overwhelmed with how warm and tight and wet you feel and he just cannot hold himself. he recovers very fast though, and he will happily suck you into his mouth in those few minutes of waiting;
- be prepared, because he is horny 24/7, and gets pussydrunk very quickly. he is up to anything you can give him? handjob before going to work? quickie in the restroom? filthy audios to keep him satiated? he wants it all;
- he has slight perv tendencies. it's consensual of course, and you told him multiple times that you are perfectly fine with everything he does, but he likes to pretend you don't know. the rush of adrenaline he gets by stealing your panties to bring them to work and taking dirty photos of you when you are not looking makes him feel dirty, and he likes it;
- since he cums really quickly and he is very horny all the times, i can see him being into overstimulation. he will beg you to keep circling the palm of your hand on his cockhead until he almost squirms away, and then he will cum for a second time in a few seconds;
- he has a filthy mouth, and he won't shut up under any circumstance. your neighbors probably hate you;
- he likes to be as submissive and yours as possible. he loves being your little toy to play with, and he will often ask you to finger his mouth as if it was his pussy, and to tie him so he cannot move to much and be completely under your control;
- he prefers when you ride him. he loves seeing you ravishing him and milk him dry, but especially because he just can't get enough of your boobs. when you stay on top he can bury his face on them and suckle at your nipples until your chest is all covered in drool;
- kind of obvious but he has a mommy kink/noona kink, and calling you that while you are fucking him makes his brain feel floaty and fuzzed. "Please noona, oh f-fuck, please - ah nnghh - p-please mama, mommy, let me cum, mama - uhh".
- he is into anal play, but for him. hannie will ask you to finger him, fuck him with your strap, rim him and put a plug in his cute wiggly butt at least once a week. he feels like your princess like that, he cannot help it.
➛ Felix
- here we have him, angel boy lixie. the softest, the sweetest, the embodiment of love. just a look at him and you would give him the entire universe;
- just as binnie, i think that also felix would be into cross dressing. he buys all the pink lacey underwear that he can find on the internet, and he pairs them with pleated skirts and high stokings;
- he will also add a few cute ribbons on his hair, and maybe a little bit of make up too. a rosey eyeshadow, shiny highlighter and glossy lipstick, better if sticky. he will let you fuck him without taking anything off, just pull the panties apart and slide his puffy cockhead on your folds until he cums prettily all over himself;
- he loves you so much he almost worships you. whenerver he is intimate with you, you will always find him looking at you fondly, tears almost prickling his eyes. he cannot help it, he just feels so much when you are together that he cannot believe how lucky he is;
- lixie has particular kinks, but he loves every single inch of you, and he will make sure to let you know. i have the feeling he would love feet stuff a little bit more than he wants to admit. especially when you are chilling on the sofa together, and your sole presses too close to his groin. he always feels a little aroused and filthy for the fact he enjoys this kind of stimulation;
- another mommy kink enthusiast here. he loves being cuddled and pampered by you. the nickname falls naturally out of his lips whenever you give him pleasure, and he sounds so innocent while doing it that it becomes an habit also out of the bedroom;
- lixie loves your breasts. he massage them to fall asleep and he suck on them as a comfort whenever he feels a little bit overwhelmed or fuzzy into his headspace. he like to be babied like that, to be lulled in your arms while he suckles softly on your nipples with pouted lips;
- and this led to his lactation kink. he is not ashamed of asking you to pretend to brestfeed him whenever he is stressed out. "b-baby please, gimme your milk, it was an awful day, p-please";
- he will need a lot of physical touch, such as holding hands, hugging and kissing. He loves every position in which he can be as close to you as he can;
- he wants and gives baby talk all the time. every cute nickname is okay for him, but his favorite are love, angel, sweetheart and sugar;
- definively into food play. he will take every chance to play with you while cooking and baking, sweet hiccups while you twirl your tongue on the head of his honey-dripping cock and lap at his sweet balls underneath;
- talks in 3rd person while in subspace. "uh- mommy, a-angel.. lix -uggghn- l-lixie is cumming, oh god, lixie is c-cumming".
➛ Seungmin
- i am a strong believer that seungmin is the hardest sub of all the boys. whenever he is in the bedroom his personality will shift drastically until he becomes a brainless needy thing;
- minnie is always so stoic and composed in real life that he just needs to let go. sex for him is the only way he can empty his head and give you the absolute control of his body;
- that's why he immediately falls into his subspace as soon as you get intimate with each other. he cannot conceive any other way of loving you than to give you complete power over him;
- i can see him being into light humiliation and dumbification. minnie needs to be useful for you and he will do anything to fulfill your desires. he gets off on the feeling of being your toy and your sexual object, and the embarassment he feels whenever you call him your dumb thing makes his head spin;
- for this exact reason, he is into pet play as well. he loves to be reduced as a silly puppy who needs to earn his treats. whenever you make him kneel in front of you to take food directly from your hands, his cock is always red and leaky against his lap. you often let him hump your calf and stop him just before he cums just to see him crying and pleading for you;
- after a few months, he will probably ask you to explore choking on him. you establish a few rules and safe words before you try that, and the way he just mewls while you lightly restrain his breath will convince you to do it more often;
- minnie needs to be owned. he will ask you to give him a tiny collar with your name on it, and he will wear it everywhere, even at work, hidden under his clothes;
- he always follows your orders diligently, but he enjoys his punishments a little bit too much as well. he pretends not to, because he wants to be your good pup, but he cannot hide the way his wet cock almost drools with precum every time your hand slap the soft fat of his butt, or the back of his balls;
- being so utterly in love with you, he will quickly develop a breeding kink. he cannot hold himself whenever he hears your voice tempting him, and he will cum the hardest if you combine it with a little degradation. "is my little pup ready to breed? mmh... i'm not sure. dumb pup is so weak to fill me up with his cum, isn't he? but you can try, puppy, you can try stuffing me full of your babies."
- and, of course, he is the weakest for cum play. especially if you let him lap his own release out of your folds after he emptied his load inside of you;
- another non verbal baby. as soon as you start pleasuring him, he will not be able to form a single sentence anymore. just sighs, sobs, soft moans and mewls;
➛ I.N
- here we go, another sub enthusiast here!! sweet, lovely innie is so happy of being with you that just cannot wait to try everything that he can;
- i can see him being a virgin before meeting you. not because he didn't have the opportunity of experiencing sex with anyone, but because he wanted to wait for his true love and be as confortable as possible;
- that's why he quickly develops a reversed corruption kink. innie wants - no, he needs - you to ruin him for good. he wants to feel little and inexperienced under your gaze. he wants to know that you are there for him, to teach him and guide him until he knows how to pleasure and be pleasured;
- after the first stages, he becomes unsatiable. he will ask for you to fuck him multiple times a day. poor baby will make up for all the time he lost!;
- he wants to try as many sex toys as he can. he will probably buy a bunch randomly without even know how to use them, and then place them neatly on your bed while waiting for you to show him the way they work;
- he gets pussydrunk pretty fast. he loves eating you out and fingering you the most. as soon as he is confident enough, he will ask you to sit on his face and ride his tongue until you cum on him;
- the prettiest soft grunts while you ride him or you manhandle him, "uh, nnnngh, ff-fuck, ahhh, oh g-god";
- thigh guy for sure. he goes crazy every time he sees you in a short skirt or in a tight pair of jeans. he will look at your legs so much he will almost go crossed-eye and will mentally pray for you to suffocate him with them as soon as you come back home;
- he loves to watch you masturbating. he will sit obediently at the foot of your bed, enraptured by the schlick sound of your fingers pushing in and out of your wet pussy, baby boy almost salivating at the sight;
- call him a simple guy, but he cums the hardest with sloppy blowjobs. he knows he has to stay still, but he usually cannot handle it till you give him permission and will end up thrusting in your mouth just a couple of times before you smack his ass and bring him back to his place;
- another noona lover here. he just loves the feeling of your experienced hands guiding him into pure bliss and to be called your pretty little boy;
- "noona, what was that? oh-ohhh g-god that feels amazing, p-please do it again."
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taglist: @jisunglyricist @hannahhhhs-things @hyuniehwa @changisworld @hyunjinhoexxx @yoobears @rockstrhanji @yongboks-stuff @taliavaleska @hw4-l1z @4-chan-inpadella @k-cock @biglipsfattits @vanillacupcakefrosting @simpity-wimpity
if you see your name in bold, it means that I couldn't tag you!
©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.
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floatyflowers · 6 months
Note
i wondered are you take requests because I see good Yandere Male Alicent Hightower headcanon
Dark Male! Alicent Hightower x Reader
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Otto manipulated Viserys into marrying you to his son, Aelyx.
After all, you are not the heiress to the throne, so Viserys didn't mind you marrying his hand's son.
And you found the Hightower boy handsome and kind, as he comforted you when your mother died.
And also you preferred to marry a boy one year older than you then a man twice your age.
Rhaenyra clearly doesn't like the idea of you marrying a Hightower, thinking that Aelyx is going to use you.
You married young, and had four children together, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron.
Clearly, when your sister's children were born with none Velaryon and Targaryen features, his hatred grew towards her.
Aelyx has forbidden you to speak to her, not wanting his sweet and kind wife, you, to interact with your 'unfaithful' sister.
The way your father treats you, also made Aelyx hate him.
The King only pays attention to Rhaenyra and her children, clearly favoring her over you.
Though you don't mind, Aelyx finds it cruel.
Your husband loves all his children equally...maybe he favors Aemond and is very harsh on Aegon, but he still loves them.
After all, they are from you, a woman he loves so much.
On the other hand, there's no question about your love for your kin, especially Aegon who is a mama's boy.
The moment Aelyx saw his second son missing an eye and you are crying while hugging Aemond.
He didn't hesitate to take the Targaryen ancestral dagger and try to poke out Luke's eye with it before Rhaenyra stops him.
At that moment, you finally see the true personality of your husband.
After Rhaenyra leaves to Dragonstone with Daemon.
Aelyx takes over the court and changes everything along with the help of Otto.
Even if you are against the changes.
Especially when Aelyx decided to claim Aegon as the true king after Visery's death, believing his eldest son deserves the throne more than Rhaenyra and her bastard children.
When you tried to stop him, he locked you up in your shared quarters during the coronation and returns back after Aegon is announced as King.
"What have you done? You have endangered our family!"
Aelyx holds you as you cry in his arms.
"I only did what was right to protect our family, dear wife"
1K notes · View notes
moviestarmartini · 2 months
Text
hey lil mama - jude bellingham x reader
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el tiempo puede pasar / te perseguirá mi nombre / yo siempre seré tu hombre.
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summary: fwb!jude calls you up in the middle of the night, insistent he needs to come over.
wc: 2.1k
warnings: lowk an undefined situationship, nsfw (18+), soft dom!jude, praise, a tiny bit of degradation, p in v, unprotected sex (DON'T!!!!), creampie, two very needy idiots, lowk a happy ending.
A/N: took this lil blurb from my lovely @judesecret (thank u sm prettyy !!) and turned it into this train wreck of neediness hehehe enjoy y'all
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now playing... hey lil mama by eladio carrión, rauw alejandro
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“Hello?” 
Your phone had almost fallen off your nightstand with the incessant buzzing. You ignored for a certain time, as you did with your first alarms. You only rolled around and reached out to answer it when the idea of someone calling you for an emergency appeared in your mind, deciding to not take any chances.
“Baby…” You perked up at Jude’s breathy; whiny, even. You could notice he was agitated just from the way his exhales saturated the microphone. 
“Jude? Is something wrong?” You asked with a yawn following close after. Your voice showed disinterest, but you were surprised to hear from him; you hadn’t done so in a while. At least not directly, his name, voice, presence… the ghost of him followed you everywhere. The silence seemed to lull you back to sleep, his labored breathing miles away in your hazy mind. 
“I just need you, darling.” He finally breathed out. “So bad.” It wasn't usual to hear Jude in such a desperate state. If you weren’t half asleep, you would’ve jumped eagerly onto teasing him, enjoying the way his cocky attitude was knocked down a peg.  
“Jude it’s…” You parted your phone away from your ear, the screen lighting up. Your eyes squinted to get used to the sudden stream of light, making out the numbers to be “Four AM. But we can FaceTime, alright?” You stirred a little, but the will to make yourself look presentable was lacking. 
“No.” He quickly stood his ground, and you could hear movement on the other line. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. I know where the emergency key is hidden.” 
Then he hung up.
You stared at the screen in disbelief, believing firmly he was probably messing with you. Starting with the troubles and tribulations of your relationships, once built upon pure infatuation, now just consisting of jealousy and sex. He also had training in the wee hours of the morning, the risk too great to be taken. 
Unbeknownst to you, he’d woken up from a wet dream, blushing like a prepubescent boy. The desire for your body watered his mouth as he rushed to pack a duffel bag with his clothes for training in less than a few hours. With a shrug, your arm outstretched to place the phone back on the nightstand and chase back the few minutes of sleep that were slipping through your fingers. 
But at exactly four-thirty AM, you could hear a key jingling and twisting around the lock in the peculiar way that the doorknob to your place required in order to unlock successfully. You only raised your head at the noise, the door closing was followed by a thud and featherlight steps.
“I thought you were bluffing.” You tutted at the figure standing by your doorframe, Jude slowly making himself welcome in the room. Without saying much, he kicked off his shoes and removed his jacket before sneaking under the duvet with you. You’d always found it funny, that such a tall, muscular man like him laid in between flowery bed sheets, frilled pink duvet, and stuffed animals. 
“Never.” He finally responded, a strong arm wrapped around you as he cuddled up from behind, his lips planting a kiss on your shoulder. You snuggled back against him, goosebumps blossoming with the way he toyed with the hem of the large tee. 
It was his shirt. 
“Not when I knew you were laying like this in bed.” He hid his face in the crook of your neck. Feeling your heart thumping against your chest, the deafening sound filling up your ears. “I know you wear those skimpy panties because you think no one will see them. Do you know how much I torture myself with that information?” His voice was low, and raspy because of the slumber he must have awoken from at some point before the call. 
“You live in my mind rent-free, princess.” He pressed a kiss on the back of your neck, his hand inviting itself under the top. “I missed you so much.” His fingers traveled your torso painfully slow, the same way he displayed kisses down the length of your neck. 
You didn’t reply for what seemed an eternity. You thought about it profusely; you could be snappy, ask why the sudden urge when he hadn’t been giving you the time of day for almost two months now. But you didn’t have the energy to argue, instead finding comfort in the way he caressed you. 
“You should’ve called earlier.” You breathed out, ignoring the way your skin prickled, and only nestled further in his arms with the pretense of getting comfortable. The groan that left his lips echoed in the cold air. 
It was quick, the way he swiftly shifted his weight and placed you under him. Startled, your chest heaved against him, lips parted in surprise. 
“Because you’re always available for me, right?” Jude cooed, his hand gently reaching and squeezing your cheeks, before stroking your cheekbone. You felt small under his gaze, identifying a certain mocking tone in his voice. “My sweet girl…” His knees pried your legs open as his torso found its place between them, finally closing the gap between your lips. “I knew he couldn’t please you like I do.” 
Your eyes widened significantly, eliciting a small laugh out of him. He’d found himself enjoying the taunting, letting his hand caress your left thigh. It was enough distraction on the painful hard-on he’d had for around half an hour now. “You think I don’t keep tabs on you, lil mama?” He reached to flick on your bedside lamp. It became a habit; your expressions only tipped him over the edge further and motivated him to do the most to make you cum. Under the warm light, Jude noticed you were still visibly tired, but you were as gorgeous as any other day you applied makeup and had your hair done. 
Leaning closer, his lips brushed yours, and he’d even pulled back when you tried to close the gap. He wanted to get you riled up, the same way you’d make him feel when his sources told him you were attempting something with some random guy. The way you huffed, hands reaching to pull him in, made Jude know it wasn’t going to take long to reach his first checkpoint of the night. 
“Jude…” You complained, all those weeks away from him had started to weigh in. “I was jealous, okay? He could never make me feel like you do.” It was the little things; things Jude learned with time, with touch and experimenting. The hours you’d spent locked in a bedroom with one another had him learning the tips and tricks that ruined everyone else for you. 
The desperation made his chest swell, your admission dissipated any of the pent-up jealousy, the need taking over every inch of his soul as his lips crashed into yours. An involuntary moan left your mouth, mixing with the heavy breaths, getting lost in the frenzied sync your lips took. You wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. 
Goosebumps formed at the trail his hand left down your leg, hand edging dangerously close to your warm core. You shivered under him at the ghost of his fingers over the thin layer of cloth, fingertips grazing the damp area lightly. You tried leaning in closer to the touch, trying to get some— if any— tangible pleasure. But Jude just smirked between sloppy kisses. 
In a swift movement, he tugged the light fabric aside, with such strength you could hear some seams breaking. “Damn, lil mama,” Jude breathed out, his index finger collecting a good amount of slick. He placed it in his mouth, humming at the taste. You were still wondering if this was a dream, if you were actually asleep and would wake up with your alarm in a few minutes. 
“You still get dripping wet from just kissing me.” It sounded more like praise than mockery, and you could tell he was proud… of himself. It riled you up, enough to lower your hand and cup his bulge with a smirk. “I could say the same.”
There was that defiance once more, but Jude seemed to be having none of that as he took your lips, hostage, in his again. You almost yelped, but once his hand slid downwards, you helped in undoing his pants. The same sentiment of need had spread over to you, tugging down your panties, both struggling to keep your lips in touch. 
The desire was suffocating, Jude was unable to keep his hands off your body, pulling the shirt upwards but with no intention of removing it fully, too desperate to go through the whole process of getting bare and turned on by the fact you were wearing his memorabilia. 
“C’mon mama, help me out here,” He panted, lining himself to your entrance. You wrapped your legs around his hips to give him a better angle, almost melting into the mattress with each inch that filled you up to the brim. “Look at me,” Jude complained, his voice coarse as he pushed you back against the bed, knowing you were inevitably going to hide your face in the crook of his neck once he moved his hips. 
Jude watched intently the way your face contorted with every slow thrust he gave you; the parted lips, eyes struggling to stay focused on him, brows slightly furrowed. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Jude praised with his whole chest, cupping your cheeks with one hand and giving you yet another ferocious kiss. 
Your moans found their place at the back of your throat, practically choking you as he slammed into you, tongues intertwining. It was bizarre; the groans and the peculiar sound of skin clashing mixed with the soft tweet of birds outside as the sunrays overshadowed the hard work the nightstand lamp was doing by lighting up the whole room. The world seemed to move around you, but time stood still every time he hit that particular spot, the one that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. 
“You’re mine, you hear me?” Jude managed to groan in your ear, your flustered face hidden in the crook of his neck. “I’ll always be your man.” The hand resting on your hip tightened its grip, and the way you arched your back to respond to the touch only sent him more shivers down his spine. 
“Jude,” You whined and moaned, almost like a plea. He only could smile gently and caress you, just before manhandling you into laying on your stomach, pulling your hips back to give him that perfect angle. 
“That’s it— ohh, you fucking slut, arch your back,” He muttered, admiring his last name and number 5 on the tee before slamming back inside you. He subsequently took off his shirt so nothing could obstruct the recoil of your ass every time his lower abdomen came in contact with it. 
“I-I’m gonna cum, baby,” You whined against the pillow, his hands digging into the doughy skin of your hips as he fucked you right into the mattress with enough force to make the bed creak even louder than it did before. 
“You’ve been amazing for me, do it,” And as if his praise wasn’t approval enough, he leaned down, his hand across your abdomen and downwards to press two fingers against your throbbing clit, drawing circles around the numb. 
That was it. The thing he knew how to do best: send you shivering and chanting his name for your neighbors to hear. He found it perfect also, as you squeezed his cock deliciously, making the rhythm of his hips sputter before he filled your pussy up to the brim. 
Jude collapsed on top of you, feeling a big amount of melatonin rush back into his system. “I missed you too.” You muttered from under him, replying to what he said seemingly hours ago. 
“Hm, yeah?” He rolled off to your side, pulling his sweats up before drawing you to his chest straight away. “We must do this more often, then.” He peered over your shoulder to check the time, turning off the lamp once again. “Great. We’ve got one hour left.” 
“You’re not leaving?” You tilted your head up. He never lacked in the aftercare department, but left as soon as it was prudent. 
“Nu-uh.” Jude yawned, his grip around you tightening. “Let’s snuggle up. And have a lunch date later.” He pressed a kiss against your forehead, brushing the lightly sweaty strands back.  
You nodded, an arm across his chest. Now the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat combined with his hand massaging your scalp lulled you to sleep, not the tears you’d spilled because of him. 
You were so glad you picked up the phone. 
876 notes · View notes
futureman · 8 months
Text
switching the positions
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food
word count: 16.2k
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moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡
a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!
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SUNDAY
"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."
“She’s gonna hate me.”
“She’s not gonna hate you.”
Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 
Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.
“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.
“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.
“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 
He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.
“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”
Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 
“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 
You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.
“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”
He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 
So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.
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MONDAY
"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."
It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.
You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 
Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.
Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—
And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 
It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 
“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.
His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.
You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.
Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 
But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 
“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 
The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 
“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.
“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”
Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.
“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.
"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.
"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"
You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 
The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.
Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.
You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.
"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."
He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.
Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 
You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.
"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."
"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."
So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.
Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—
Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.
"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."
A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 
"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.
"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—
The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.
"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."
You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.
Neither of you makes it to work on time.
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TUESDAY
"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."
The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.
You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.
“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.
“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.
“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”
“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.
“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.
“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 
It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 
“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 
It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 
You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 
“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.
“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 
…Wait. She’s leaving?
“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”
“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”
You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 
“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 
And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.
You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?
Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.
Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 
Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.
The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.
There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 
Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.
Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.
You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 
You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 
“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”
Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 
Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.
And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.
“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”
He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 
“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.
“Good. It’s dinner time.”
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WEDNESDAY
"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."
Spin class sucks.
There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.
It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 
It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 
But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.
No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 
There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.
The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 
It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.
Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.
Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 
What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 
Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 
That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.
The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 
Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 
You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.
"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"
You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 
On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.
It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.
“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."
Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 
You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.
Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.
"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"
His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 
Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.
Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.
"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."
And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 
Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 
Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—
But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.
"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"
Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.
"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.
You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.
"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.
"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.
"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.
"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 
Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 
You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.
All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—
But he's got one last edge left in him. 
You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.
He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.
"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 
Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 
But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.
You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.
"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 
You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 
Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?
But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 
Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.
“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."
You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?
"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.
He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.
"Wanna explain what all of that was?"
"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."
"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 
You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.
"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"
"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 
But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.
"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.
"That's okay. We won't need one."
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THURSDAY
"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"
Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.
You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.
How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.
Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.
It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 
Two blue lines. Pregnant.
You knew this week was going a little too well. 
Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.
Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 
Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 
It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.
There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.
Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 
You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 
Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 
Fuck.
Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.
But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 
Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?
No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.
If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 
Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.
So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 
Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.
“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”
She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 
“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”
“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”
The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.
Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.
It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  
"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"
Yeah, you could say that.
You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.
"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 
His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 
Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 
That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.
Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.
But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.
His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.
His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.
“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."
Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 
But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.
“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.
“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”
Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.
The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.
“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 
“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”
“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 
Together. You’re in this together.
“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”
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FRIDAY
"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."
Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.
You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 
“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 
You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.
Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 
Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 
You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 
Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 
Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 
Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 
You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.
Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.
Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.
“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 
But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 
“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”
You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 
“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.
“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 
Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 
You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 
Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.
But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.
“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”
You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.
“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”
“Whatever you want, baby."
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Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 
Now, you want something else. 
You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 
His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 
Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.
"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."
Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 
Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 
He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.
Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 
"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 
There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.
"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"
The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.
"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"
You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.
"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."
"Deal," he says without hesitation.
"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 
He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.
"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."
Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.
"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 
You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.
Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 
"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."
Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 
Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 
Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 
"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"
You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—
Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 
"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.
What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 
And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.
Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 
He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.
"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.
"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."
"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."
He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.
"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."
But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.
"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.
You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 
"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 
You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 
"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 
Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.
His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 
So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.
"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.
"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."
Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 
"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."
Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 
Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.
“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 
It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.
But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.
"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.
Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.
Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.
And still so mouthy.
“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”
"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 
It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.
"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."
Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 
His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.
“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”
“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 
Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.
“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”
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SATURDAY
"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."
You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.
And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.
Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 
He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 
That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.
But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.
He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.
His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 
Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 
"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 
"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"
You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 
Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.
"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.
"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 
"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 
"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."
Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.
"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"
And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.
God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.
Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.
"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  
Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 
You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 
He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 
But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.
You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.
“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"
Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.
“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”
Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.
Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.
Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 
His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 
The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 
And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 
You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.
"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."
How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.
Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 
But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.
Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 
And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 
Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.
Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.
“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”
It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.
At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.
His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 
Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 
Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.
Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.
“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 
Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.
"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 
His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.
"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.
It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 
“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 
You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.
“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”
He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.
You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 
When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 
Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.
Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.
Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.
He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 
After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.
"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."
The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 
You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.
Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 
"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."
He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.
“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."
You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.
Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.
"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"
Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 
His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 
Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.
You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 
And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.
You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 
It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.
"Yeah, I do."
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thanks for reading! 💕
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redr0sewrites · 2 months
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Adam x Reader General Hcs
HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIM HES JUST SO. AUGAHGEHEG. i love him. characterizing him is so fun, but so challenging at the same time.
🥀 Cw: adam being adam, sfw + nsfw hcs, smut, breeding kink
🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion
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sfw:
Adam is more prone to casual flings and hookups, hes def not huge on relationships and longterm partners
this means that if your with him, you must be pretty special bc hes a huge ass handful
while he is a pretty big douche, adam is definitely loyal imo
deep down, hes still pretty insecure about both lilith and eve, and im a firm believer that he would never cheat on a partner if he was in a serious relationship
adam comes up with very.... interesting nicknames for you that are 10x more vulgar than the ones he uses for everyone else
hes HUGE on nicknames and petnames in general, at the start of a relationship theyre pretty crude and flirty but over time they start to become sweeter
sugartits, doll, sweet cheeks, bitch boy/babe, babycakes, BAE, lemondrop (idk it just fits), mama/mami, honeytits, honestly anything that comes to mind
adam likes to put "my" in front of most of your petnames, its not so much in a possessive way, moreso in a bragging way, he just loves telling the world that your HIS
he also definitely calls you bro, brah, dude, etc he doesn't care that it "doesnt sound romantic" 💀
adam finds the MOST unhinged things hilarious, hes the type to watch those ten hour long youtube videos of a spinning potato chip and laugh every ten seconds
speaking of, he has one of those loud, booming laughs with a slight wheeze to it
"BAAHAHAHAHAH BAE COME HERE LOOK AT THIS HAHA" and its just a low quality video of a water bottle falling over???
100% a shitty pickup line user
and also a shitty flirter in general
his flirting is just
obnoxious
adam is very proud of you, when the two of you officially got together he probably called half of heaven to announce that you two were dating
"THATS MY PARTNER‼️‼️‼️" type of vibes
adam acts like he isnt big on cuddles bit is secretly the clingiest, most touch starved person alive
PLEASE let him hold you, this man is tall af and loves just swallowing you in an embrace
when he was "courting" you (irritating you constantly and flirting with you obnoxiously until you caught on that he was serious) the biggest tell that his feelings were genuine was the amount of physical contact he initiated
adam was always leaning on you, throwing an arm over your shoulder, resting a hand on your thigh, hooking his arm through yours, overall invading your personal space
he was incredibly happy to FINALLY be able to cuddle with you when you both got together, and HAS to fall asleep touching you in some way every night
adam is almost always wearing his exterminator helmet, but he really likes it when you take it off for him at the end of the day. even he doesn't really understand why, but there's something so intimate to him about the fact that you love his real face more than the persona he puts on
he would rather die than admit it tho
hes not good at words or communication in general, and prefers to express his appreciation through actions
he brings you foods that he knows you like on days where you're especially busy, he gives you song recommendations that he'll think you'll like, he'll buy you a trinket he saw you eyeing at the store, just tiny things like that
adam genuinely does care about you, but as per his usual adam-ness, he would rather go bald than live up to that 💀
nsfw:
you cant tell me this man isnt kinky as shit
hes tried pretty much everything
HE LOVES TO HIT FROM THE BACK, DEF LIKES DOGGY STYLE
i also think he would like the mating press too, getting to watch your face as he wrecks you while also having the opportunity to leave bites all over your thighs, and feel them tremble as he fucks you? sign him up!
his dick is big big
i think hed be a little thicker than average, with a few veins running up the underside, but its his length that's downright heavenly
adam keeps himself pretty well groomed, but has a prominent happy trail and light fuzz at the very base of his cock
listen, this is the first man we're talking about, he KNOWS what hes doing
whether you're male or female, he will go down on you
once he buries himself between your thighs youre done for, adam barely comes up for air as he devours you
hes def sloppy w it too, loves when you cum on his face so he can lick it up
enjoys it when you return the favor as well, i actually think hed really realy like receiving head
would def fuck your face until your drooling
if you hve an oral fixation, you're in luck bc he LOVES watching you suck his dick, his fingers, anything really
adam always makes you lick and suck his fingers before fingering you, and will sometimes trigger your gag reflex by shoving them down your throat to watch you gasp and whine
adam has STAMINA, expect to stay up all night bc this man will stop at nothing to make sure you're both satisfied
i swear this man is built to breed, he has a HUGE breeding kink and goes crazy at the sight of his cum dripping from your hole. even if it's physically impossible for you to get pregnant, adam still babbles about "fucking a prety little babe" into you when he cums
adam likes using plugs to make sure his cum stays inside you, he'll also finger it back inside and loves smearing his cum on your thighs and ass
he also brings his fingers up to your face and has you lick the cum off of them
LOOOVEEEESSS marking you, by the end of the night youre always covered in bruises and scratches and hickeys galore
i love adam guys yes ik hes a douche but hes my douche <3
i wish i characterized him better but whateverrrrrr i dont want to write him as a total asshole but hes def not an angel either (haha im so funny💀)
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tender-rosiey · 7 months
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candy pretty! — nanami kento x f!reader
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a/n: okay but what would nanami do if his little girl had a crush on gojo’s son 😏
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nanami is a mature man, calculated, collected, and the picture perfect adult. he is the best husband who, without fail, treats you like a queen.
he is also the best dad out there and your six year old daughter will always defend that with her entire being. she is also very ready to throw hands at whoever disagrees. right now, however, the one throwing hands is your husband.
and it’s either at gojo’s son or gojo himself.
but the boy did nothing, and gojo deserves a beating anyways so he settles for the latter.
that’s at least until his darling daughter came in with the biggest smile on her cute face and holding a note—probably written by gojo’s son, considering the very terrible and unstable handwriting, but the small smiley face and cute heart—as she squealed, “daddy, daddy! akio invited me to a playdate!”
it takes every bone in nanami not to walk to gojo’s house and throw him in the nearest trashcan where he belongs; instead, he smiles gently at his daughter, “that’s great, d/n. when are you going?”
“right now!”
“sure—wait…now?”
she nods excitedly. nanami sighs then gives her a thumbs up, and the girl takes it as a cue to excitedly run to her room with giggles and squeaks, “mommy, he said yes!”
he hears you respond through the door and he can practically hear the smile in your voice, “really? that’s awesome! let’s get you dressed up, pretty girl,” you and her run happily run to her room and nanami smiles at the sound of footsteps.
he loves how lively it makes the house feel.
then hears the door close and he leans back into his seat.
moments pass by. a deep breath he takes, and a stare he gives the ceiling before mumbling very quietly, “what the fuck.”
“ooo, daddy said a bad word!”
“put the money in the jar, kento!”
ugh, this is going to be a long day.
the both of you are already dressed, and your daughter is busying herself with her favorite comic while you help your husband get ready.
he is glaring at the mirror and you chuckle while straightening his collar, “what’s on your mind, handsome? dad instincts acting up? she is growing up; she is bound to have crushes.”
he nods with a sigh, “I know, but like it’s gojo’s kid.”
“yeah?”
“no, y/n, it’s gojo’s.”
“oh right…ew. ew to gojo, not the kid. akio is an absolute sweetheart.”
he snorts, “he probably takes after his mom,” then he kisses your forehead when you’re done tying his tie, “but the thought of being related to gojo is just…” he grimaces, shaking his head, and that’s all you need to understand.
he can almost imagine it: them a couple of years later, completely and utterly in love, and he would be so happy for them. anyone who ensures the happiness and safety of his daughter is an a+ for nanami.
then gojo will enter, loudly and dramatically, and he won’t hear the ending of his annoyances, a pain he thought he will get rid of before he enters his 40s at least. he looks at the bright side: at least, he will have you by his side.
you lightly smack his—very broad and muscular—shoulder, “now, you’re being dramatic! he isn’t that bad.”
a stare of silence is what you’re met with until your daughter interrupts the judging look of your husband, “mommy! daddy! ‘gotta go! he is waiting!”
your husband sighs once again and you giggle, pulling him with you towards the car.
the ride is quiet, save for your and your daughter’s singing and her rambles about how excited she is to see akio, along with your husband’s frown as he realizes that maybe he is getting protective of her even against akio.
it doesn’t take much time, before you’re already in the gojo household and are seated while the kids are playing in akio’s room.
it’s just you, kento, and gojo because mama gojo went out to work. you would’ve loved to catch up with her about the latest gossip in town.
gojo grins as he looks at the both of you, “so how’s nanamin feeling about the kids’ love story?”
an instant scowl is plastered on your husband’s handsome face and it makes you and gojo laugh out loud. gojo understands why he is protective. when he has a daughter himself, he will probably never let a boy near her.
you cup kento’s face to press a kiss to his cheek and it relaxes him, even if it’s just a tiny bit. gojo lets out a whistle and both you and your husband glare at him.
you hear some rustling in akio’s room, before your daughter bursts out, red-faced and running towards you. she buries her face in your legs and you softly ask her, “what’s wrong, honey?”
nanami gently rubs her back and it encourages her to speak up, even if her voice is a mere murmur, “akio called me pretty,” she fidgets with her fingers. you and nanami share a look of a helpless smile and pat your daughter’s hair.
soon after, akio comes running out of his room , “d/n? are you okay? miss y/n, is she sick? is she okay? I can get that…uh—yellow thingy mommy gives me when I am sick!”
you chuckle and stroke your daughter’s hair lovingly, “don’t worry, hun; she is just a little shy about being called pretty,” you hear her huff on your legs and she looks up to frown at you.
you chuckle and kiss her forehead while nanami is staring—read: probably glaring or planning something—at akio.
akio tilts his head in confusion, “but she is pretty? the prettiest girl ever! even prettier than candy!”
your daughter whines, burying her face further into your leg, “akioo, stop!”
gojo chuckles, watching the scene unfold and thinking about how his very evident charms were passed down to his kid.
but the compassion in his eyes as he worriedly looks at d/n is definetly from his mom. akio pads his way to d/n, and gently pats her head, “I am sorry; please don’t be mad at me.”
he pouts and looks away while blushing, “you’re my favorite person to play with…and I never—um,” he hides his faces his shirt, “want to make you sad.”
your daughter peaks at him and you could swear you could hear the slow music and the chiming bells. you could also bet that the wind is a paid-actor cause when did the window open anyways?
your husband taps your shoulder and points at gojo, who is turning on a fan to give this sweet moment more drama.
and so, after a while, the playdate comes to a close and you’re at the door saying goodbye to the gojos—who you will probably see tomorrow, but whatever.
gojo is leaning against the door as he grins, “let’s do this again soon.”
your husband takes out a cloth to wipe his glasses, “I would rather not.”
you gently elbow him before kneeling beside your daughter, “come on, d/n; say bye to akio and uncle gojo.”
“bye bye, uncle gojo,” she waves and he excitedly waves back then she looks at akio in silence.
the poor boy is overthinking why she isn’t saying goodbye to him and he is probably about to tear up. however, your daughter finally musters up the courage and walks towards him.
they look at each other for a moment before your daughter pecks his cheek and dashes to the car.
akio stares in front of him before becoming a blushing mess and falling to the ground. it’s chaos from there on out.
gojo is cackling like he never laughed before in his life. your husband is speechless and probably planning murder. you’re trying to do your best to calm him down, but it seems like there will be no stopping this man.
family dinners will be so interesting.
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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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