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aespabangedbang · 19 days ago

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AE-REVENGE CHAPTER ONE - MY FAMILY

- Karina Smut, Feat Eunha, Cameo Ning.

Writer's Note : "A masterpiece. A densely packed box of sex, drama and filth. A taboo romantic sonet!" That's how I guess some reviewer from big magazine would review this smut. Kekeke, here is the very first chapter of my Aespa Vengeance series. ENJOY IT, MY BEST WRITING TO DATE!

Tag : (FULL CON story), Mention of NON CON, Cheating, EX, Toxic Relationship, Pregnancy, Breeding, Milk Kink, Betrayal, Usual all three holes getting fucked, Degradation, Punishment, Mental and Physical breakdown, Piss Kink, Revenge, Parenthood, Children Exposure to Sex, Family Drama, Ulterior Motive, Cumdump, Abuse, Titfuck, Love and more...

Warning : Pure smut story. Don't ask for morality here to appear like a saint. Saints don't come to read smut kekeke.

Word Count : 8,300 word of nonstop filth.

Next Episode : Going to be about Ningning. But I have no draft about how it's going to be. So you can send your filty ideas on how she should get fucked. Read to the end for understanding the story flow!

A luxurious car stopped in front of my privately owned clinic, it's afternoon past 3 PM. I have made quite a fame and fortune as a young, rising and successful gynecologist. Today my highly esteemed patient has just arrived, waiting for her for an hour despite me having no job coming to my chamber at this hour today. I can see her attractive slim figure swaying from my chamber's window on the 2nd floor, sipping on a big cup of coffee.

Mrs. Park or should I rather introduce herself in her real name Jimin, is coming to visit me according to her appointment. Her milky white body is covered with a luxurious contrasting black Prada outfit, with a low cut neck displaying the canyon of her ample boobs. Her wavy hairs are draping on her shoulder, her hip swaying from her cat walking wearing expensive high heels. A 4 years old boy, named after his father Park Jr aka Little Park grabbing her hand and coming along. Pretty excited, you can tell from the way he is walking.

Soon after my assistant doc Ms Eunha, a sexy and busty young lady showed them to my chamber. I greet them warmly, “Welcome Mrs. Park, I hope you had no trouble coming all the way here to my humble abode. I hope lil Park here and everyone else are doing well at your home.” I show her the chairs to sit on. “How are you doing son? Having any ailments lately?” I ask him playfully, though he doesn't answer. Grabbing his mom’s hand even after sitting on the chair.

“Calling a multi million dollar cutting edge clinic a humble abode is really befitting you.” She scoofs with a smirk, and didn't answer my first question purposely. She is still such a fiesty one! “Hahaha, excuse my poor humor. Working overtime for my patients has left me rather dry inside. I hope I can have some rejuvenating experience today.” I look at her with a spark, her eyes locked on mine. She takes a deep breath.

My sexy assistant comes inside with a press of my bell, her assets bouncing with every step. “Please bring two iced americano and a big mug of chocolate milk for dear lil Park here.” I know the exact drink she would love at this hour. “You are already having coffee, why bring tea then?” She asks knowing the answer, what a tease! “There is no harm keeping my energy bar and fluid level topped, who knows I may have to deplete them both soon!” I tease back, her innocent acting is amusing.

She bites her lower lips then looks outside the window. Her side profile has gotten sharper, more well defined. Her cleavage looks delicious, her big boobs have grown even bigger from lactation. She is still breastfeeding her boy. She is many things but a good mom without any question. The drinks arrive, we start sipping without any exchange. She calms down a little, maybe the old custom has eased her nerves a little bit.

“Itt delis umma!” Little Park says to her excitedly, his baby talk is so adorable. “Slowly, why are you letting the milk drip on your shirt?” With a little scolding but affectionate voice Jimin says to him, her hand busy wiping a few droplets of milk from his shirt. I hand her a tissue, “Use it.” “Thanks,” she takes it without even looking at me. “It's ok son, I used to drop drinks on shirts like you too. It's no wonder you have the same habit.” I assure little Park as lovingly as I can.

Jimin turns her head swiftly, her sharp eyes staring at me as if trying to cut my voice with her gaze. Her lips are locked like a meep, an old habit of hers whenever she gets angry with someone. “O-Oh I am just saying it's a problem a lot of us face, hehe….” I panickingly answer, it would be such a waste if she leaves just for my slip of tongue. She rolls her eyes away from me and starts tending to her son’s shirt. Phew, she is not gonna leave.

Once we are done drinking the americano, she gives me haste, “Let's start the checkup doc. I am not here to see an old friend today, let's get this over with.” Her voice is way too cold, it's clear this line was rehearsed in her mind before. “Sure milady, your wish is my command!” I scoff, this line was something enough to get whatever I wanted once. Good ol days! She stays silent, I stand up and show her to the next door.

I ring the bell again, my assistant comes swaying her busty ass. “Please take care of lil Park while her mom is getting checked up. Go play with Miss here son, she’ll take good care of you.” Lil Park looks at his mom, not wanting to let her go. “Go with her baby, mom'll be back soon!” She pats and shows him off the chamber, my assistant takes him away. Most probably will take him to the canteen for food. “Shall we?” I opened the door for her. She silently enters, I follow behind.

The room is spacious with a Gyno Chair in the middle. That's where I take a satisfying look at my patients’ delicious pussy. If they are ill, I try my best to treat them. If they are completely fine, I still give them my best treatment. A little injection around their pussy and they can't even tell if it's my finger or cock doing the checkup. The little curtain in front of their face really helps. If they don't let me put that, then I put them to sleep and have some satisfying moments with them. Virgin, young, milf, dilf or granny I say no to anyone. “All pussy are equal” that's the unofficial motto of my clinic.

But the pussy in front of me is special, very special. I slap her booty with a loud smack, “Enjoying the good mama act, ain't ya?” “KYAAA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She hiss back, “JUST DO IT AND GET IT OVER. I AM NOT HERE FOR THE PLEASURE!” She reminds me, grabbing both of my hands with hers. “But pleasure is all I am here for. The pleasure of getting you back even for a few moments is driving me crazy!”

I overpower both of her hands and keep pushing her toward the wall, then pin both hands above her head with my left. “You are still like a kitten!” I remind my ex what I used to call her back in the day. My right hand gives her milking udders some rough squeeze, she responds with a moan. “Ahhh don't, milk will drench my clothes.” She protests though I knew that already.

My hands go for her crotch, her pussy is already wet, her panty soaking. “Look who is not here for pleasure yet her pussy is ready for all the fun!” I move the panty aside and insert my middle finger up in her pussy, fingering her g spot that I know very well. Cause it was I who found it for her. She bucks her hip backward, her head on my shoulder while my finger is busy pleasuring her with a surgeon’s precision. Once I am satisfied with her lubrication, I pull out.

I put my fingers in her mouth to taste, but she doesn't suck them. So I smear my hand around her tongue before grabbing her neck. I go for a french kiss, tasting her musky pre cum and tea smelling mouth is my forbidden pleasure. I let go of her hands then grab around her waist, my palm busy squeezing her tight butt cheeks. I am kissing her with such lust like I’ll eat her whole like a python. I break free from the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting our mouths drops on her boobs. “S-STOP! JUST FUCK ME ALREADY! ARGH…” She begs me as she doesn't want to get hooked on her past lover.

I start undressing her. “Argh just fuck my pussy and get over it, don't have to undress!” She tries to fight back again. This time I snap. I pull and tear her panty in one go and then force it into her mouth. “If YOU don't stop protesting at everything then I'll tear your Prada dress like a beggar's rag so the world can know the country’s top industrialist Park’s wife is cheating with her ex behind his back!” I threaten her then get back to undress her.

Once her Prada dress is gone and I unhook her bra, her body is out like a sacred diva statue uncovered from a treasure box. Her milky white perfectly petite body hasn't aged. Her 34D busty saggy boobs have grown bigger, taut and plump full of milk. Her abdomen has gotten curvier after pregnancy and a little bit of fat here and there. She is still so stunning, the mommy transformation has only elevated her sexual appeal.

“You know I am not cheating!” She insists but I don't heed the obvious. I dig into her long neck, my soft bite and hungry kisses make horny Jimin grab onto my hair, she has started moaning from full arousal. I go lower on her big mommy boobs, milk spurting out from her saggy udders with each of my squeezes. I start sucking her nipples along areola one after another, while the other tit spurting milk, drenching my doctor attire. Her chest heaving, breath getting shallower.

Her milk is the sweetest thing I have ever drunk. It's the first time I am drinking my Jimin’s milk, my love’s tasty milk right from her udders. I bring both boobs together and start power sucking both nipples, my mouth getting full with sweet milk with every suction. “AH AHHH AH AHH STOP, LEAVE SOME FOR MY SON AHHH….” She is moaning. I suck a little more before letting her go. Her face is completely flushed seeing her past lover enjoying her breast milk.

I restrain myself for lil Park. Don't want the little boy to go hungry. I go lower again, her tummy has become curvier after pregnancy. Still it's well toned and soft like before. I keep kissing, my tongue darting inside her tiny round belly button, the salty taste making me go crazy. I go even lower and bury my face in her crotch. My nose between her wet pussy slit, at the entrance of her baby hole. The musky intoxicating smell of her wet pussy and sweat makes me go crazy.

I put my tongue in, the taste of her sweet pussy juice and salty sweat overwhelm my taste buds. I am slurping and licking her pussy clean like a possessed, my hands busy groping and getting a feel of her tight booty. I shove my finger in her asshole, fingering it to loosen for anal sex. She grabs my head again while grinding her pussy all over my face, smearing my face wet. No matter what act she puts on, once she gets horny she becomes a siren who stops at nothing.

“AHH AH AHHH AH FUCK IT. YOU ARE MAKING ME TOO HOT, F-FUCK! FUCK ME ALREADY YOU SHIT AHHH…..” I pull out my tongue and start fingering her hard and fast, I can see her pussy tightening around my finger. I use another hand to pinch her erected clit until she starts convulsing and cum gushing out, painting my face. I immediately latch on her pussy, a flood of her nectar making it sweet all the way in my food pipe. Be it milk or cum, everything about her is sweet. I suck and lick her pussy clean before french kissing her lower lips once again.

“Mmm, you are still so sweet Jimin. You are still fucking delicious after all this year!” I look at her face, that needy horny expression used to make me crazy back then. Her hands on my shoulder supported her body, still convulsing and knees inward. “I have given you your due Jimin, now pay me back mine!” She flinch, the fact I still followed our custom of making her cum before I can fuck her makes her expression soft, almost sad.

“I don't need your sympathy Jimin.” I say before going behind her swiftly to hide my face between the cave of her bubble butt. The faint smell of shit coming from her asshole. She still doesn't wet wipe her ass. “I-IT'S DIRTY DOWN THERE, S-STOP!” She tries to stop me but like before I replies, “I am enough to make you clean mommy!” Her hands grab my head yet again, caressing my hair almost like she acknowledges the fact I am still down bad for her like I was since day one. With my tongue and big licking I clean her asshole up, if it's Jimin's then I don't care about anything else.

I choke her neck, tight but not painful, then guide her to the Gyno Chair. I promptly made her sit on it, spread her legs apart and put them on the leg rests. Her peach shaped glistening brown labia and pink pussy hole in front of me once again. Remind me how she used to spread her legs for me, every single damn day. I tighten the strap around her legs, making sure she can't move. Then I go for her hands. “Just how many did you fuck on this chair? Your preparation looks quite elaborate.”

“THAT'S THE POINT JIMIN!” I hiss at her, “I have fucked so many bitch on this chair but nobody feel just right like you! You have broken me, you kept fucking me to the point that I can't fuck anyone else like you!” I pull the strap tightly around her wrist before I finish my words, above her head. Now her body properly secured for through fucking. She looks at me with her puppy eyes, lips locked. The anticipation of pussy invasion and lust sparkling in those eyes.

I don't wait anymore. I start rubbing her slits with my 6 inch cock, “Here I go!” and shove it all the way in. Her tummy arch forward but can't move much for the contraption. “AAAHH FUCK, TAKE IT SLOW!” I am all the way in, after 5 years I am back in her pussy, the pussy that rightfully belonged to me before that motherfucking bastard Park stole it. I pull out all the way except leaving the tip in. “SHUT UP YOU BETRAYING CUNT!” I shove with all my might, the tip is hitting her womb for good!

“ARGH, I-I AM NOT HERE F-FOR OLD STORY! W-WE B-BOTH KNOW I-I DIDN'T BETRAY Y-YOU! FUUUCK S-SLOW DOWN AAHH AAAAHH….” I am busy fucking her fast, as if to make up for the 5 years I have spent without her. She is feeling it hard, thanks to her cumming a little while ago. I go in for another kiss, I grab her head with one hand while the other is busy choking her. My tongue is busy tasting my Jimin, our tongue entangling like the very first kiss we shared.

I attack her boobs next, sucking the milk of one while the other is auto lactating, spurting with each of my thrust, drenching both her and me. Her pussy is clenching around my cock, her hands and legs are twisting to get out of the straps. “I-IT'S T-TOO MUCH, NNGG NNGG AUGG STOP G-GO SLOW AAAHH….” She is still protesting, how dare she! I grab and muffle her mouth with both and start slamming her pussy with all my might, bucking my hips like a piston going blurry.

MMPH MMFPH MMF MMP MMPH MPFH

Her muffled scream, milk squirting boobs, squirming body and squeezing pussy makes me so hot after a long time. A few more powerful thrusts and I can't hold back anymore, my balls clench painfully while I thrust as deep as I can to flood her womb with my cum. Making sure most of my cum goes in and coats her egg to make her pregnant once again.

I let go of her mouth, “ARGH ARGUGH HUHH AHH HAH...” She is moaning and gasping painfully from my rough thrusting. I lean on her, my head resting between the milky river of her wet boobs, tired. Getting her back after so long made me too agitated, so I ended up pushing myself into her too hard. My semen leaking out around her pussy, my cock still buried in her. I pull out, cum start gurgling out her lower lips. Blobs after blobs, I have cum so much into her, nothing stopping her from getting pregnant.

We both are busy catching our breaths. My hands auto wander to her face and boobs, getting a feel of my love Jimin. Feeling so satisfied fucking her again. Soon enough she regains her composure and says “O-Ok, we are done. Untie me.” She shakes her hands and legs to get my attention. I look at her like how a hunter looks at its hunt. Her creampied hole, sweaty, sexy naked body and fuck me nervous expression shows how vulnerable she is.

I laugh at her mockingly. I scoop a finger worth of my cum from her pussy and put it into her mouth, she sucks having no other option. “What’s the rush queen? We have just started the party.” I painfully claw her jaw, spit a big lump into her open mouth to give her a hint of what's coming next. “N-NO, you said you will impregnate me, like last time. That's it, I t-told you I am not here for pleasure!” I pinch and pull her nipples painfully, milk drenching my finger, “Shut the fuck up you fucking sow, I’ll fuck you until you can't stand straight. I’ll have my fill for your love tormenting me for the past 5 years!”

Yes, little Park is my bastard son. That prick Park never bred her in the first place. Rather, her family blackmailed him into this strategic marriage. Luring him into a one night stand and then forcing her to marry him for their benefits. I couldn't keep her to me, couldn’t save our love, not when I was nothing but a nameless, middle class, broke medical student. I had no value to her family, she abandoned me for her parents and that damn Park stole her from me. FUCK THESE DAMN HIGH SOCIETY BASTARDS, ALL OF THEM!

Back to the present, she is protesting to have sex any longer, I knew she would say something like that. This heartless bitch fucked me for one last time, making sure she gets pregnant and then got married. Never even broke up with me, but left me broken. Now she is back again, willingly. Why? A quick digging up and I found Park has dozens of mistresses and he actually loves no woman, but only their pussies. He is a cruel, ruthless criminal with an underworld connection.

Poor Jimin was afraid to have his baby. Meanwhile she already gave birth to my son, so she called me again all this year later to get bred. So I’ll grant her wish fucking her so much that she will start craving me once again, she must have to. Getting a second chance to have her as mine, I am not going to waste it. She will be mine, she has to be mine, I will make her mine, I will destroy everything if needed for that. I'll have this pussy for me everyday like I always had.

So I set my cock on her entrance again, ready to plunge in the depth of my desire. My eyes lock her, my lips lock her, my hip buck forward, my cock back into where it belongs and the rigorous motion of humping begins once again. Her muffled whisper and short breath encircled by my own mouth matching the rhythm of my cock pumping her pussy full of my seed.

Again and again, her shivering body and whimpering mouth from cumming makes me only hornier. I don't stop, even when she is riding her orgasm, making her eyes go white. Her boobs don't stop drenching both of us in our tight embrace. My cock now pumping out my very own cum out of her pussy. A wet, squelching sound of air escaping her pussy with every thrust engulfed the entirety of the chamber.

After a good 20 min of non stop pussy pumping and turning Jimin into a milk sogging, pussy squirting, body shaking, breath hitching mommy mess; I end up cumming again. I shove my cock ball deep and make sure every single drop of my cum fills her baby hole while her body squirms from overstimulation. I pull out, blob after blobs of my cum coming out of her breathing sore pussy, mixed with her own juice. “You are looking so exquisite! Just like you always did.” I whisper in her powerless ear, she just looking at me with lost eyes.

I open her leg straps, her limp legs just fall down like lead. Same goes for hands, she has zero ounce of energy left to move. I scoop her thoroughly used body in my embrace and safely put her on the bed next to the chair. I flip her over, her milking boob making the bed sheet wet. Her plump white ass invited me for more. Though she doesn't want to accept it. “Please, now let me go. It's getting late!” She begs weakly but I am not the one to listen. I slap both of her booty a few times, leaving a stark red print of hand.

Jimin hides her face against the pillow, muffling herself. “Shut up, I'll have the entirety of you no matter what.” I take some lube I prepared early and start applying it around and inside her asshole with my finger. She moans softly, getting aroused further. Then I smear my cock with a lot of lube to make sure she doesn't get hurt. Then I start rubbing my cock against her pink asshole. After a few moments of anticipation I guide the tip at her entrance and start pushing.

Her ass used to be tight when she was my plaything. But now it's so loose, clearly her delicious booty get fucked often. “What the fuck Jimin, doesn't that shit Park fuck your pussy?” I am now ball deep in her rectum, took a few hard thrust to get here. Jimin doesn't answer, she is biting the pillow now. Her hands going white cause how tightly she has gripped the pillow. “What a waste of this fine ass.” I slap her again, her body shakes from it. “You know it's so hard to get such a fine ass often.”

The furnace hot embrace of her ass makes me hard again. The viagra I took an hour before she arrived working like a charm. I pull mostly leaving my mushroom head in her butt and slam back. “AAACK OH AHH ARGH AHHN NNGH STOP PLEASE STOP THIS ARGGGH…” She cries out while keeping her bite on the pillow. I am having the time of my life claiming her ass once again, but at the price of her agonizing pain. The lube did make it slippery but no amount of lube can make anal fuck painless.

With every thrust her ass is getting stretched to it's limit. My crotch slapping her meaty bouncy ass loudly, the pleasant sound echoing around us. I am driving my hip like possessed, her deep voiced cry is only getting hoarse. I grab her tits and put my torso weight on my forearm, like an endless fountain she has drenched the entire bed under her boobs. My crotch is getting bounced back hitting her elastic butt. Oh how badly I missed pounding my Jimin's ass to oblivion!

After 10 min of nonstop invasion into Jimin's arse I start to feel like cumming again. She has started to feel like back in the days. I have flipped her over, her milking boobs are again making a mess soaking us both. My hand is now choking her neck, forcing a kiss with her whimpering mouth. The sweet smell of mommy milk is hovering in the air. My cock isn't stopping like it has its own mind. Jimin is now pissing herself with every thrust, soaking her and me with her yellow smelly waste.

Her orgasm hits her like a truck as she arches her back in the air, the sweet liquor of her pussy spurt out like a water jet. Milk, piss and cum combined with our sweating body entangled in this skin to skin position have made it such a steamy hot sex. I feel like cumming, but don't want to waste my baby making seeds. So I pull out and once again enter her pussy. I grab behind Jimin's head with both hands, then pull her head up close to my face. She is now sitting on my lap, my cock completely buried in her baby hole.

I am holding her head close to me like how kids hold a barbie doll. Her eyes upturned, mouth agape, breath shallow and hands gone limp again. Her tiny pretty face is now completely under my dominance. Her pussy clenching around my cock with every slow and short upward thrust, she is still orgasming hard. She has completely lost herself in lust and sex, panting from overstimulation. Her messy hair sticking on her sweaty face, I always loved when she looked like this. So lovely, so warm, so wet!

I go in for a kiss, sucking her tongue like a lollipop. Now I am thrusting slowly, trying to prolong this final session as long as I can. If only, if only I could fuck her like this for eternity! I stop sucking, my cock going ever so slowly into her like it's non existent. At last Jimin's eyes are back, looking at me eye to eye so intently. Our hot, short breath is mixing together in a harmony of longing and lust. “YOU ARE LOOKING SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!” I don't waste my chance to flirt with her.

I have force fucked hundreds of woman beside her. Being Park's wife she had her fair share of intercourse with many men, being gifted around for his monetary gain. But no women or men can satisfy us the way we can satisfy each other. After this evening, we have both found what we lost 5 years ago. That is we are meant to be each other's, we are far apart now but deep inside we are one! Like now, just how we are together connected with my cock plunged in her pussy.

“FUCKGH! You have bred me so hard!” She gasps for air, her sweaty face making me feel so horny again. “Even after a gangbang I didn't feel this spent, fuck you aaaahh!” She moan softly as she is trembling from getting fucked so hard for so long. “GANGBANG? What the hell Jimin, how many?” I asked her, surprised. I bury my face between her shoulder and face to give her long neck some well earned peck.

“12 honey…” She takes a short break to recally, “Park had a private party a year ago where he gifted me to foreign investors. They fucked me all night… Filled all my holes at the same time, but it still didn't feel as good as yours!” Ironically, her family wanted to give her some queen-like life, blackmailing a man who is richer than them just for their baby girl to get used like a cheap whore. Her parents must be very proud knowing their girl gets gangbanged, legally by the whim of her own husband.

I should be happy though, she is getting punished for her betrayal. But I can't, I am still so soft and caring for her. “Did it hurt too much?” I nudge my nose with hers, my forehead touching her, my hands cupping her face, my cock pistoning smoothly in her pussy. “I couldn't walk around for a week. Can't be helped taking two cocks in my pussy at the same time!” She smirks; it's full of humiliation, pain and a sense of guilt mixed with pleasure. “So you are now a slut huh?” I throw the humiliation to see what's in her mind.

“I am a mom first then a wife. Every moms are fucked somehow, it's just I come in a colorful package thanks to Park.” She is now riding my girth, her hands around my shoulder, her boobs jumping and slapping my face. “What a roundabout way to say you are a whore now!” I grab her ass cheeks and carry her weight, helping her spent body to ride me easily. “Says the doctor who rapes his patients. You have become a monster.” She spit on my face in a poor attempt at fighting back. I chuckle painfully, “We both have gotten corrupted. We lost our way when we lost each other!”

A sigh leaves her, with a lost kitty expression she presses her boobs on my face, sandwiching my nose and eyes between her warm cleavage. It's almost like trying to hide her regrets and pain of losing me. Both of my hands go for the back of her head. I move forward and gently put Jimin on her back. My hands holding her hip as I start pumping my cock with full force into her pussy one last time. She cries out, moaning so loudly like going to make me deaf. I rest my face between her boobs, her milk washing my face with each thrust.

“Give me some milk mommy, my throat got all dry,” I tease Jimin for some hydration with a baby voice. She is just busy moaning and doesn't reply to me but her hands obediently gather both of her nipples and press them together, inviting me to suck both at the same time. I lean forward, grab both boobies and start sucking both nipples at the same time. My mouth is getting overflowed with milks from both udders at the same time, I am literally struggling to gulp down all of it. As a result it's leaking out my mouth and soaking her further.

I have been edging myself for too long. My cock is throbbing too much to release. I let go of her boobs and hold her face, my lips locked in a hungry kiss as my hips go blur once again. “NNGH ANNGH ANGH NNGH AGGH AUGH NNUGH…” Jimin’s muffled struggling moan breaks my prostate dam as the river of my semen starts flooding her baby lake. Her already sticky pussy from previous creampies gets a new layer of cream as her pussy muffin is at last completely creampied. I pull out, cum start leaking out her holes, albeit not as thick as before.

I fell down on her heaving chest. Her sprawled out mommy titis are spurting milk with each and every convulse from her body. She is orgasming again, apparently my enthusiastic or rather crazy humping has pushed her over the edge again. Who knows how long we lied while curling each other. Jimin's head hiding in my chest, my now limp cock resting between her thigh gap. It's Jimin who breaks the silence, “I have to go now. It's getting pretty late. My boy must have gotten hungry.”

“Sigh, a betrayer of a lover, an overused bitch and a caring mom. You are an enigma Jimin.” I reversed our position, now she is on top of me, my cock still getting kissed by her pussy lips. I embrace her tightly, “Yet I don't want to let go of you. Please don't go, don't leave me alone again!” The plea in my voice is clear, I hate to show my weakness yet I can't hide my affection, the eternal longing for my one and only true love. “Don't make it harder for me. I must go.”

Jimin starts smooching my face all over, as if to make up for the absence of her in my life. My eyes, my lip, my nose; she doesn't leave any place empty. My cock, thanks to Viagra, started getting hard again. I am again humping my cock between her thigh, ready to fuck her again. Jimin's mouth go agape with surprise, “WHAT THE FUCK, HOW ARE YOU SO HARD AGAIN?” I smirk, “Let's do it again baby!” I tease her. “NO NO NO NO WAY, my boy waiting for his mom!”

Jimin gets up, wobbly from her breeding session. Her petite frame stumbles as she is struggling to stand still from sore holes. She strides on the floor and goes to collect her dresses and saliva soaked undies from the ground. My cum is visibly dripping out her pussy and going down her thighs. Her milky white cunty body, ample milk filled udders and bouncy supple ass shows why she is the best fuck out there. My sorry cock rise up again, my body want to fuck my Jimin yet again. I stood up and went to help her.

Jimin takes some tissues from the corner and starts wiping herself. She starts with her sweat and saliva filled face, then focuses her milk soaked torso and boobs. I give her a hand, start wiping her pussy and butt hole painted with my cum. Jimin stands patiently, it was one of our old rituals. It was always me who had to wipe her holes clean or else she would not dress up and sit naked with a pout on her face. So I gently cleaned her up, my cock throbbing once again.

“You are all cleaned up Jimin. Now clean me down there!” I point her to my crotch, my cock is still dirty and back to full erection. “I-its getting late, I can't do it anymore!” She begs, her face shows the honest inability of her situation. “Just blow it clean, just a few minutes.” I insist and push her down on her knees. She can hardly resist with her weak, almost limping body. I start rubbing my cock around her lips, a few hits around her face to tease her. “JUST LET ME SUCK ALREADY DAMN!” She gives me a warning glare.

How dare she be bitching with me! Getting angry I shove my cock all in reaching her throat. Forget blowjob, it's about time I facefuck this betrayer. Deepthroating never felt this good as I am making Jimin gag and choke on my length. Forget some cleaning, it's me who shall rearrange her glute with my brute cock. I got deluded from having sex with her after so long, but I really need to punish her for the past 5 years.

My cock fucking her glute now, her long neck bulging under my light grip. Her face is contorted, her breath getting ragged but the final act of her humiliation has to be more agonizing than this. I start choking her throat, making it clench around my invading cock. She tries to pull out, but I start slamming even deeper in her throat. In an attempt to breath she widen her mouth, now it's a sloppy face fuck as saliva and snot dripping on the floor together. Her eyes bulging, hands pushing on my thigh, but to no avail.

“ACK ACKKK AUGHH AGHH ACKGH AGH AGHKK ACK AUUGH SUGH ACK…” The painful sound escaping her mouth only getting hoarser after 5 min of relentless facefuck. I am pulling out to give her some air just to stuff all the way in again. Her boobs are spraying milk as expected, drenching my leg with each agonizing thrust. Her eyes watering and bulging out. Suits her, suits this sweet talking, pretty faced betrayer. “Take it down your lie spouting gullet for fucking around bitch!” I break the silence with my trash talk.

Suddenly the door behind me opens up, I look back over my shoulder and see nobody. I turn further and see our little Park standing there. Poor boy was sucking on a lollipop but now his mouth is open wide, hand going white as he is clenching the stick. He is visibly puzzled seeing how his mommy is busy sucking his daddy or rather doctor uncle’s pee pee while being completely naked. Any other parents would scramble to get dressed or hide their modesty. Unfortunately his dad is a nasty fucker so his mama getting forced to suck daddy cock is something he got to enjoy.

Jimin tries to pull out, her face pleading to stop this shameless orchestra but I press her head completely on my cock, my entire length is now into her throat and gullet. “Umma doin… waat?” Puzzled Park starts walking to his mom who is choking and retching, getting impaled by dad’s cock. “What are you doing here son? Where is your auntie Eunha?” I ask him, my hands keep Jimin’s head stable as I am busy face fucking her head with short but powerful thrusts. “AUGH AGHH ARGH AUGG AUGH AGHHH…” Jimin’s eyes close shut to escape such shame, mouth struggling with gag reflex.

That's good for nothing bitch Eunha, can't even handle a child for a few hours! Whatever, I am not stopping my sex for even my parents so my bastard son can wait. I pull out, letting Jimin answer her son. “AUGHH HAAA AH HAA HA… GO AWAY PARK… Umma is getting a little surgery and my throat hurts so appa I mean doctor uncle is injecting medicine down umma's throat go aw…” In one breathless breath she tries to convince park to go away. But I don't have time for such foolery, so down mommy Jimin’s throat I go!

Little Park is now sucking his lollipop copying the motion of my cock. Imitating how her mommy sucking daddy's lollipop. Jimin’s eyes tearing up seeing her boy losing his innocence, she is slapping my thigh and in her last attempt clench my balls to make me stop. “Ok ok, let's wrap it up.” I assure her and then start choking her neck like before, increasing the pressure around my cock. Then I give some all out all in thrust and end up cumming deep in her mouth. Jimin has no option but to drink all of it. Her eyes lock mine, her mouth obscenely bulged with my cock in it.

Little Park got hungry, him trying to drink mommy's spraying milk shows it clearly. Once I stop the hump, he sits between my legs and latch on mommy’s left areola, suckling like nothing happened. Jimin's hand presses her boy's head on her mommy udder in an attempt to stop him from seeing anything, her eyes locked with mine, pleading to me to do something about it. “If I pull out now then he will ask you to suck him later. Let Eunha come and take him, I am sure she is searching for Park.” I assure Jimin, my hand caressing her abused hoe head that sucked a lot of men so far.

Thinking about it, how my lover is sucking my milk while her son is sucking her milk makes me feel so hot. This is such a twisted family reunion. In my last act of humiliation, I try to open my bladder and try to piss straight down her food pipe, but it's taking an effort as I have just cummed. Jimin's eyes go wild, she is again glaring at me but with a frantic expression. “What? I can't keep it in anymore. Drink all of it or Park getting showered with daddy piss!” And this time I can open my bladder easily. My hot, yellowish, dehydrated from physical activity and smelly piss with semen mixed in it straight going down her food pipe.

Jimin's trying her best to drink my piss despite having a disgusted face. I grab her head and jaw to keep her head steady. Thinking how Park getting showered with piss won't turn out to be good, I am trying to piss slowly. My hip slowly pumps her mouth to enjoy some extra stimulation. Eunha suddenly appears from who knows where and immediately bow down saying, “I am sorry master… sir, an emergency patient came so I left him at my chamber. Came 5 min later and he was gone. I didn't think he would come back for his mom. Sorry for interrupting your intimacy sir!” She quickly pulls Park and lifts him up, “Let's go boy, I’ll let you suck mine,” and immediately leaves the room.

I let go all together, now piss starts gushing out her mouth and nose as she starts coughing violently. I pull out, letting her breath some badly needed air. “Y-YOU BASTARD AUGH AGGH AUGHH…” She tries to vomit but I choke her, “It’s your punishment for betrayal bitch. Throw up and I’ll lock you up for a week and rape you every day!” She looks at me with helpless tearing eyes, her lips trembling with an influx of emotion. I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back, “I love you and that's why letting you go. Or else…” I loudly slap her boobs a few times, leaving a few red marks around.

I threw her head back. I didn't notice early but she actually orgasmed and pissed herself when little Park was sucking her, maybe when I started to piss. Now she is sitting on her own piss, helpless and clueless on what to do. First I fucked her badly, tortured her on physical and mental level and now she can't even dress up getting soaked in piss. I collect her limp body and take her to the shower hidden behind this room and tell her to clean up. With a weird look she sees me, unable to understand how I can care for her and want to destroy her so much at the same time!

It takes Jimin 20 min or so to clean herself taking a shower. I mostly use that hidden bath to clean myself after taking special care of my patients. She calmly dresses herself, then goes out to my chamber and puts some light makeup on her face. She brought the hair dryer I had in the bath with her, using it to dry her hair. “Bring little Park here, I am going now.” Her face is cold and voice stoic as if nothing happened. What a drama queen! I lean and try to touch her cheek but she smacks it away. “YOUR CHECKUP IS OVER! Now I am just your patient and nothing else.”

“Heh, look at you acting so tough. Even a moment ago…” I can't finish, she stands and looks at me eyes to eyes, “That's our last. Do you really think I'll be back for more? I can have any number of men as I wish!” She looks stern, but the little tremble in her eyes tells me she doesn't mean it, she doesn't want to mean it. “Come back to me, my love! If you can have my childs, then those childs deserve their dad!” She scoffs, “Come back to YOU? A freaking doctor who rape his senseless patients?”

“You are no better YOU WORTHLESS BITCH!” I shout and squeeze her free hand, it goes white under my pressure. Her eyes tremble further, almost a droplet of water forming at the corner of those beady eyes. “At least I had no choice in anything! You? You do it willingly!” She hisses back with a low deep tone. “You had no choice? Bitch you FUCKING BETRAYED ME! You are getting used like a toy for that. I am… I am just lost without you!” I can't clearly tell her that once I lost her, I had no interest in any more relationships. My patients, my playthings are just a merry distraction!

A distraction from the pain that… that she isn't mine! That I can't see my son, that I could have a loving family… that… that they robbed me off. Now we are both broken! I let go of her hand. She put the dryer on my table and took a glimpse of herself in the decorational mirror I had in one corner. “Jimin, you aren't any better than me. Let's agree on that.” She doesn't look at me, ignoring me on purpose. “Divorce Park, I have connections in high places now. We can have our son's custody. Let's start ov…”

Suddenly Eunha came in as I pressed the bell early to summon her. Little Park holding her hand. His other hand grabbed a small box of candies, chewing one. “I am sorry again for before sir. Here is your… Madame Park's son. Please have a safe trip back home.” Jimin's jaw clenched and eyes burning, she looks at me furiously, “Why don't you broadcast it on TV already? Just ruin everything and everyone!” I answer her nonchalantly, “Eunha is my obedient slave. Don't worry, she doesn't betray like a certain someone.” Jimin rolls her eyes and snatches Park's hand from Eunha.

Before she gets out of my chamber swaying that ample ass and tiny waist, grabbing our son's hand, I ask her, “And your answer?” Jimin stops, stays still for a moment and then shows me her middle finger! How dare she… Then she leaves, my love leaves like how she came a few hours ago. Today is the happiest I have been in the last 5 years. Little Park waved his hand unlike his mom though, even a fucker like me felt happiness seeing his son's small hand waving at him.

I look at them from above, it's evening already, the crimson blue dawn sky whistling the end of the day. A girl wearing a luxurious black designer suit, shorter than Jimin in height, has come in a different car. That's Ning Yizhou, bastard Park's secretary and personal cumdump. That shorty bitch knows Park's every secret and is among the most trusted. Basically like my Eunha here, ready to do anything for her master's whim. Except Ning is tougher, stronger and sharper. With a stern look she opens the car door and asks Jimin to get in. More like an order, Jimin silently obliges. As if Ning has more authority than her.

Ning also looks up at my chamber, though she can't see me through this one sided glass. I lick my lips, Ning do looks fucking delicious! Damn, if anything Park got taste in choosing perfect hoes to fuck. Ning gets in the driver's seat and they leave. I sigh, it's exhausting that I can't keep Jimin to me now. But at least I have got what I wanted. The confirmation that Jimin still loves me, wants me, craves me, dreams about me. I know, her eyes and subtle expressions cleared it all up. And as long as Jimin wants, I can win the upcoming war I am going to wage.

You just wait for it, you damn Park! Everything you own, be it your fortune or your womans, WILL BE MINE! “Your chemistry with madam is so dramatic master. You both care about each other but still act like…” I grab Eunha's mouth and squeeze it, “Why did you let my son come inside?” “I didn't master, trust…” I clench harder, “Drop the act whore! Jimin didn't like it a bit. Why?” Eunha's eyes sparkled with sultriness, “I wanted to come and see how you two were enjoying it master. I felt so horny…” Sigh, while it's true this bitch is my most loyal, it's also a pain that she only understands sex and nothing else.

“Do you want it that bad, you cheap slut? Huh? Should your master just open a glory hole for you in the patient waiting room?” I tease her, my hands are busy slapping her face and busty boobies over her apron. “Yes master, yes, please! A glory hole would help when you are busy with others! This cumdump had a hard time waiting for your cock… You saved so much cum for madame these weeks… I can't wait anymore master! Please, fucking kill me!” Her tongue lolling, asking to get abused like the worthless slut she is!

The Viagra effect in my body still has an hour left of action. I put two fingers in her mouth and my other hand choked her, “Get on your four you onahole. Your master wants some meaty pussy and fatty ass message for his cock.” Eunha doesn't waste time and immediately gets on her four on the sofa at the other side of the room. I lock the door, then get behind her. She can't even touch a dildo without my permission, she is that well trained. She didn't get fucked by anything for a while, poor bitch! So let's end her agony. I bury my cock in her big ass in one go, her painful moan is something that lifts my mood anytime, anywhere.

Half an hour later Eunha is panting, I have dumped my cum on her face, titfucking those big milkers. If only she could produce milk like Jimin… I should have titfuck Jimin when I had the chance. Damn, I shove my cock back in Eunha's meaty pussy once more, humping to get another erection.

Yes, I am going to make Jimin mine. Ning Yizhou, you will spill all of Park's secrets soon. I'll fuck all of it out of you. But for now my trusted slave Eunha should suffice. What an optimistic evening it is!

END... Fuck you until next time 🖕

(And don't forget about Ning's smut idea! What, Where and When Secretary / Cumdump Ning should get fucked?)

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superswet · 6 months ago

Text

🌲 road trip.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: when your camping trip with scott gets cut short because of a work emergency, you nearly kill him and every member of storm par, intent on making your ire well known on the drive home. but when you push scott too far, his impatience has other plans. or “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, no use of y/n, bdsm, established dom/sub dynamic, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), brief mentions of serial killerisms (teasingly… maybe), semi-priv public sex (in a truck), scott has a whore mouth (again), groping, belting (f! receiving), spanking/slapping (f! receiving, breasts & v), oral (m+f), nippleplay (f! receiving), unprotected pinv, orgasm denial, fingering (f), cumplay, breeding A/N: when the "just a quick one shot" turns into a beast... oops? 😬 thank you to my proud sponsor aka the scott rot™️! if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

On hour two of the drive back to OKC, you think you’ve lost your mind.

What had begun as a much-anticipated weekend road trip with Scott — an incredibly overdue escape, though you weren’t exactly keeping track — had swiftly turned from enjoying the fresh, open air and the promise of an entire weekend distraction-free, to a mountain of frustration that battled the ones in the distance. All because your charming, secretly sentimental boyfriend had wanted a picture of you and the sunset for his lock screen.

If you weren’t so upset about it, you probably would’ve laughed.

But this was the fourth (fourth!) time that something had gotten in the way of your Scott Time, and, look — you needed it. So. Fucking. Badly.

Which was why when his phone had gone off again, after Scott had ignored the voicemails Javi left him, you were so, so very tempted to hurl the fucking thing into the pond. Instead, you sat there, already trying to think of a way to get your lick back with the fact that he was the one who’d insisted that going off the grid meant going off the grid and electronics simply took away from the nature of it all, the hypocritical ass. And you’d watched, with dawning realization and equal devastation, as Scott’s entire demeanor had shifted from peeved that Javi even had the audacity, to shutting his mouth and speaking in yes, sir’s and I understand, sir’s.

Oh, Marshall Riggs was going to get an absolute earful the next time y’all sat down for Sunday dinner.

But first, you had your sights set on Scott. And, quite frankly, he deserved every second of petulant that you were giving him.

When he adjusted the air conditioning, you dropped the temp lower. When he found a good station on the radio, you changed it. When he asked for one of the snacks by your seat, you munched on it first, mumbling a fake apology when you passed him a small piece. And when you finally started talking, it was one word answers: yes, no, dunno, sure, fine, whatever.

And every time he gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter, you felt vindicated by the fact that it was ticking him off.

Good. You were ticked off. And unbelievably, atrociously bored. There were only so many things you could do in his truck while you were half giving him a cold shoulder. And, well, after the last time you’d reached for the volume and he’d caught your wrist with a stern ‘knock it off’, like you were a child, you’d resorted to pouting out the window, then sifting through his middle storage, and then snooping through his glove box.

All of which were boring, in the exact way that only a man’s truck could be boring. Who didn’t have a car Chapstick, but could have packs of gum hidden everywhere? And where were the just-in-case napkins? And what did he even use pliers for?

Your brattiness — no, curiosity — wins over the agitation that still simmers just under the surface. You turn to Scott with a mischievous grin as you hold up the pliers. “Be honest. Are you secretly a serial killer?”

Scott glances at you, then at the pliers, before rolling his eyes with a faint smirk. “Caught me,” he deadpans, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to draw out your giggle.

“I knew it.” You dig further into his glove box like you expect to find a pair of gloves, which stupidly has you giggling because you’d lost your mind, see, and there was no way there’d actually— Oh. Shit. He really did have gloves. “You’re the worst serial killer I’ve met. Your whole murder kit is in here and you haven’t even tried to kill me yet?”

“Getting close to it, honey,” Scott quips, a teasing edge to his voice that makes your heart flutter. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips, betraying his amusement.

Until you keep it up, making an exaggerated show of pulling out every item you find, each discovery more dramatic than the last. The subtle tightening of his jaw tells you that rummaging through his stuff is getting more of a rise from him than your earlier silence had. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the whites of his knuckles glowing under the moonlight, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

Curling your knees to your chest with his newest item in your lap (a bundle of zip ties), you bat your lashes up at him with feigned innocence. “Am I bothering you, baby?”

“Nope.” Scott, to his credit (you pretend it’s not because you’re his girlfriend but because he just chooses to be kind), swallows down whatever shitty retort is on the tip of his tongue as he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to the road, as if anchoring himself, before he plasters one of his obnoxiously fake smiles on that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your own smile slips at the blatant irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, hating that look, knowing he knew you hated when he was fake with you. He reaches over, his hand finding your knee — not in the usual affectionate squeeze, but more as a grounding gesture, a silent plea for you to stop before you push him too far.

“You might want to close that now,” he adds, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge as he jerks his chin toward his still-open glove box. “Before I really lose my patience.”

“But...” you start, pouting a little, your fingers lingering on the edge of the glove box. “I was just having fun. I mean, what else could be in here? Secret spy gadgets? Hidden treasures?”

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. His patience is fraying, each word clipped and precise as he says, “Close. It. Now.”

You relent, closing it with a dramatic flourish and an equally exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Glove box exploration time is over.”

Scott exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thank you,” he mutters, though his eyes still carry a hint of irritation as he changes the radio station a couple of times, scowling at the country crooning through his speakers, before just shutting it off.

“You sure you’re okay?” You test, still pushing his limits. You figured that Scott knew you better than that. That you knew him better than that. Nearly seven months together — again, not that you were counting — and he really thought you couldn’t tell when something was off?

You continue, “Just because… Well, you seem a little stressed. Is it because you didn’t get to tie me up and torture me back there by the pond? I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday, like when cows fly, but—”

“Are you done?” Scott huffs, shooting you a look.

You don’t back down from it, leveling him with your own hard expression. When he’s forced to return to the road, breaking eye contact first, that prideful part of you purrs. He sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have any other choice. So sit down, shut up, and stop fucking with my system, please.”

He says the last through gritted teeth, and as much as you loved to antagonize him, you knew when to push and when to not. Putting the last of the stuff back where you’d found it exactly how you’d found it, you stuff your hands under your thighs and pout quietly until he visibly relaxes again.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mumble, the silence that encases you both too much to bear.

Scott runs his tongue over his teeth, then looks over at you, his expression hard. “And you’re lucky I haven’t spanked your ass raw for that attitude yet.” Surprise must flash across your face, because a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth that he quickly masks. “What? Did you think I would just let all that slide?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Liar.”

Damn it.

Before you can say anything else, Scott reaches over, gently but firmly tilting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as his eyes leave the road for a second. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?” he asks, his tone shifting from frustrated to something far more controlled and deliberate — each word laced with a quiet authority that sends a shiver down your spine and makes your blood run hot.

It’s a tone you’ve come to know all too well, one that signals a subtle shift in the dynamic between you, a reminder of exactly who’s in charge.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like another classic Scott lecture — a stern word from someone who was used to being in control. But you knew this side of him intimately well, understood the depths of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about a conversation or setting you straight; it was a command, a subtle but potent assertion of the power he held over you.

“Answer me,” he prompts, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that makes your pulse race. “Yes or no, honey.”

“No,” you breathe, testing the waters of defiance.

“Let’s try that again.” Scott��s grip remains steady on the wheel, but the weight of his gaze feels like a tightening hold around you. “No, what?” he asks, his voice low and demanding, leaving no room for anything but the correct response.

You swallow. The tension between you is thick and electric. “No, sir.”

He holds your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity, long enough for you to actually worry about him being behind the wheel. But a quick glance at the road reassures you — he’s in complete control, staying perfectly between the lines, maintaining a comfortable distance from the cars ahead and behind.

His eyes flicker to your mouth, lingering there with a deliberate intensity. “We’ll see.”

A noise of discontent escapes you immediately when he returns to his side of the truck as if nothing happened, all the air leaving your lungs. We’ll see. That was it? No good girl? It’s a reprimand all on its own, defiance filling you quickly.

What was the point of his rules if he wasn’t going to listen to them?

First with his phone, which had gotten you here in the first place, and now this. You pout, crossing your arms as you glare at the car in front of you, hating everything about this weekend. God, you’d both been so exhausted from the drive to the campsite that you hadn’t even touched him like he’d promised you could **— **on top of the week he’d already instructed you not to touch yourself.

And now Scott was going to be buried in work again. He’d drop you off at home just to drive another hour or two to who the hell knew where, and from there it was back to the office to get the paperwork rolling, call the banks, pouring hour after hour into making sure this deal went through. All because Riggs had decided his time off was more important than yours.

But it wasn’t. You’d waited eons for this. And you were damned if you were going to let both him and Scott stop you.

Slowly, so slowly, you angle yourself toward your boyfriend, his eyes distant as he readjusts in his seat and fishes absentmindedly for a piece of gum to smack on. For a moment you can’t help but admire him, appreciating the way he filled out the seat, the way his jaw worked with the gum, how when he got lost in his thoughts and had a particularly interesting idea he swiped his fingers along his perfect, full mouth.

He was masculine without any effort, intelligent and calculating, and, despite this weekend, was the most attentive boyfriend you’d ever had.

And you ached for him.

Just that tone shift alone — from Scott to sir — had spiked your temperature, leaving you warm with the lack of air conditioning. You knew better than to reach for the knobs, even if the thought of him pinning your wrist down had your thighs pressing together. So you shift forward to unzip his jacket you’d stolen, meaning to shimmy it off, when you catch his eyes on you.

Instead of taking it off completely, you let the gray fabric bunch to your elbows. His eyes slide from the way it now sits on you to your white tank top before focusing back on the road, his gum making that unmistakable snap! he always did. “What’re you doing?” He asks, stealing another glance as you wriggle in the seat.

“Just hot, baby,” you hum, which wasn’t a lie.

But there’s no way to be subtle as you collect your hair into a ponytail and tie it with your scrunchie, just like there’s no way Scott can be subtle as he zeroes in on your hair being up or the fact that your tits jiggle with every bump or dip in the road. His hand flexes on the wheel, quick to snap his attention to the mirrors, as if he’d been checking them in the first place.

You bite back a smile.

By the time Scott is pressing on the brakes, an accident brings the two-lane down to one, one foot is propped up on his dashboard, your head turned to face him with every sigh that leaves your lips. With nothing to pull his attention now other than the slow crawl, his eyes catch yours again, his guard dropping as he falsely believes you’ve listened.

And that’s when you make your move.

“Baby,” you groan, wetting your lips as your fingers brush across his sleeve. Your other hand rests against your knee, slipping down along your thigh while you bat thick lashes up at him. “Can you turn the air on, please? I’m dying.”

“Mhm.” Scott does, following the invisible line your fingers paint across your skin as the air kicks on. The cool air is welcomed and the content noise that leaves you isn’t entirely fabricated. When his hand drops to rest on your thigh, you know he feels how flushed you are under his cold touch. And you know he feels you arch into it. “How’s that? Better?”

“’ Little.” Not even close, but you play it up now that you’ve got him. “Still too hot.”

“Sorry, honey,” Scott’s deep voice is genuine, frowning a bit as he squeezes your thigh. “Got it the lowest it can go. Need me to roll a window down?”

You shake your head. “It’d just bring all the hot air in.” Something he should’ve known, but you couldn’t blame him for being a little distracted. You press on, confident, still inflecting that whine in your voice. “Your hand feels good, though.”

His touch inches up your thigh in response, sure that he’s not even aware he’s doing it. As your touch moves in time with his, you drag your free hand across your chest, pressing against the leather of his seats and pushing a strap off your shoulder. The cool air directly hitting you causes a flurry of goosebumps to rise and your nipples to poke through the fabric, chest rising and falling as you make a show of overheating.

Scott snaps his gum again, removing his hand to tug gently on his jacket. “What did I say about going through my stuff?”

“Oh, you left it at my place. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” You try to play innocent, but the smile you give him is nothing short of mischievous as you intentionally arch up into his touch. “Do you want it back, sir?”

He’s quiet for so long that you think he’s returned to the road. Instead, his eyes are locked on the thin tank top that clings tight around you. A quiet hum echoes in the back of his throat as he runs his knuckles over the swell of your breast, dragging slowly across your nipple, before he seems to think better of himself and places both hands back on the wheel.

“Keep it.” He grunts, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Despite how you try to hide the happiness from your voice, you fail miserably. Scott didn’t offer many liberties, especially not with his personal belongings. You don’t let the distance keep you far, unhooking your seatbelt and leaning over the center divider to beam up at him.

“Really.” Your heart pitter-patters in your chest when he hums again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His eyes slide back to the road, still at a slow crawl. “Don’t get any ideas, honey.”

Oh, you had about fifty different ones, most of which included seeing how far you could go down this new avenue. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling against his cold skin, slipping your arm through his and guiding his hand back to your thigh. Scott squeezes again, a small warning to behave. But since when did you do that?

“Come on,” he taps an index against you after a few minutes, “Buckle up. Safety first.”

“But—” You pout, wrapping your arm around him tighter. He could drive with one hand, and besides, you were barely moving enough for a seatbelt to matter. “You feel so nice. And you’re always away for sooo long, baby. And now you’re gonna be gone again?” Brushing your nose along his jaw, you let your hand drop casually to his thigh. “I just miss you.”

“It’ll only be for a few days.” He shifts under you, chewing his gum slower. No doubt weighing whether he should let this continue or end it early.

“A few days too many.” You feel him inhale as your touch roams, sliding over his muscled thigh and across the zipper of his jeans. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing more apparent as you continue, “Do you know how lonely it gets without you? Knowing I can’t cuddle you… Kiss you… Touch you?”

You grope him where you know his weak point is while leaning up to scrape your teeth against his earlobe. His hips lift of their own accord as he instinctively searches for more, his grip on the wheel tightening as he squeezes your thigh in his big hands.

You hide your smile as he thickens under your palm. And smile wider at the growl in his voice as he orders, “Behave.”

“Am I breaking any rules, sir?” With your lips at his ear, every needy breath against him has Scott tensing in response.

Your shorts ride up — and so does his hand, until he’s close enough that you can grind your clothed heat into him. It’s just a single roll of your hips, keeping pressure where you crave him, but it has you whining all the same.

“Please, I missed you so much… I miss touching you, feeling how big you are in my hands…” You drag your palm against his thick length, fully straining against his zipper now, his breath coming out heavy as you grip him. “Please, please, just let me taste you. I’ll be such a good girl, I promise. Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock stuffed down my throat? Sounding so pretty as I choke on you?” You whimper against him, the sound small and needy. “Please, sir?”

The combination of your fingers wrapped around him and the feel of your tongue lapping at that sweet spot on his neck has Scott groaning, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Before you can react, he presses you firmly back into your seat, keeping you pinned with his hand across your sternum while you try to fight against the distance he forces between you two.

“Behave.” His gaze meets yours, dark and heavy and no-nonsense.

Your cunt clenches at the authority in his tone, nipples peaking in response. Scott slips his palm under the fabric of your shirt, kneading your heaving chest and rolling the hardened nub between his index and thumb. You writhe at the sensation, a moan spilling out of you, until he pinches you hard enough that you gasp. Just as quick as it happens, he pulls out just enough to bring his palm down roughly against your tit.

The sting of the impact has you arching off the seat as your cry pierces the silence.

Scott presses his index to your mouth in warning as the police lights finally illuminate his truck, the accident off to the side. You’re breathing too heavy to pay attention to it beyond that, not caring about anything happening outside of this truck, and you pass by quickly without any incident.

The air is still heavy as you meet his gaze. And you can’t help when your fingers grip the sides of your shorts to bunch the material in your hands, greedily grinding into the taut seam aligned perfectly with your center.

Scott watches it all silently. “You want to be my good girl?” His fingers draw invisible lines down your thigh, spreading your legs apart with just a touch. You comply easily, nodding as he smooths his hand along your skin and ignites a fire inside you. “Then fucking act like one.”

There’s no warning when he slaps your pussy hard, the denim digging painfully into you. Your hands fly out to grip whatever you can as your hips stir against the pain, crying out as another smack sounds, punishing your disobedience.

And still, you can’t help but whine out for him. “But I need you! I’ve been so, so good this whole time, I swear. Even when you told me not to touch, even when I wanted to so badly— I listened, I swear I did.” Pouting over at Scott, you whimper. “Please, I promise.”

“Go on. Keep it up. Do you think you’re listening now?” His hand tightens to a fist as he rests it hard against the center divider. His gaze pings to the time display on the dashboard, then to you. “The more you misbehave, the longer you wait. Was a week too short, honey? Do we need to extend it to two? Three? Can you even wait that long without disobeying me again?”

You can barely answer, only whimpering out as you press yourself into his arm, careening out of the seat. His hand clasps hard around your wrist when you reach for his zipper again, cutting off whatever noise is in your throat with a low growl.

“If I have to pull over,” he grits out, looking you dead in the eyes, “You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

You level his hard gaze with your own even as your heart pounds heavy, his threat thinly veiled as his grip tightens around your wrist.

And you swear you don’t mean to, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Can you go that long without fucking me? If I can’t touch, neither can you. Not a kiss, not a hug, I won’t even let you fuck my mouth!”

As your frustration boils over, you breathe raggedly against yourself, fighting to rip your hand out of his strong grasp. He’s quiet as he watches you, the look in his eyes betraying nothing that simmers underneath the surface.

Calmly, too calmly, he continues driving, following the road as the dark trees pass you by. When he moves off the pavement to turn down a dirt road, your heart flies to your throat.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, looking behind you as if expecting anyone else to follow, but it’s just you on the solitary single lane, his tires crunching on the dirt road. “Scott?”

His mouth stays shut, turning into a clearing of trees. You usually love the outdoors, but the forest around you looks foreboding and eerie, the trees looming large overhead. You glance out the window to the night sky, but there’s not even a twinkle of starlight here. Just inky black nothingness.

He shuts the engine off, taking the headlights with it.

You think you stop breathing.

“Get in the back.” His order is quiet against the silence but travels along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Now.”

As much as you want to protest, the words catch in your throat, refusing to form. Instead, you wordlessly climb over the center divider, dropping his zip ties into the cupholder with a deliberate clink. Your bags, shoved angrily into the back when he’d asked you to pack up, tumble to the floor, landing in a haphazard pile as you settle into the backseat.

The sudden darkness engulfs you, your eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. You can barely make out Scott’s silhouette, his intense gaze fixed on you before he opens his door with a determined click.

Silently, Scott slips out of the driver’s seat, the slam of each door echoing through the night like a final verdict. You hold your breath as he rounds the truck, each crunch of his boots against the twigs and leaves sounding louder than meant to be. The backseat door opens, and he slides in beside you, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

You find your breath again when his hand, warm and steady, smooths around your ankle, his touch both grounding and possessive. He makes room for himself, his presence filling the confined space with an electric charge. The air grows thick with anticipation as you sit there, the darkness around you deepening, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott’s fingers trail up your leg with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you hostage. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, searching for some sort of escape. But it was too dark outside to see, the woods maybe terrified you a little bit without Scott by your side, and even if he chased after you — and you weren’t bratty enough to do that — you had absolutely no idea how to get back to a road, let alone the road.

And, well, you didn’t really want to get away from him. Just the punishment you knew he would dole out for your disobedience.

Still—

“I thought we had to get back to the city,” you squeak out, voice trembling against your better efforts as you try to plead your case to deaf ears, “Riggs– Riggs said you needed to be back, right? And you know how far my place is from your office, and—”

“We have time for this,” Scott interrupts, his voice firm, a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He presses his index to the pout of your mouth, silencing you. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching as you squirm under his grip, eyes wide and pleading.

If you were a deer in headlights, Scott was a hunter. And he was a damn good hunter.

Scott’s beautiful mouth curves into a grin, his eyes darkening with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and the outdoors mingling with his intoxicating scent. The tension in the air thickens, every sound amplified by the stillness of the night. The rustling leaves outside, the distant hoot of an owl, even the faint hum of the truck’s cooling engine — all seem to echo the pulsing beat of your heart.

You can feel the rough texture of his jeans against your skin as he shifts, making himself comfortable, his body pressing against yours in the confined space. His hand, warm and commanding, moves from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he states, his eyes gleaming, all possession and affection. His words wrap around you like a promise, binding you to this moment, to him.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, the gravity of everything sinking in. Scott’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent command for your complete attention. His other hand slides down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before settling on your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re safe with me.”

Your lashes flutter as a noise sounds in the back of your throat, caught between a plea and a whimper. You trusted Scott more than anything, and knew, without question, without fear, that he would never do anything you didn’t want.

And god, you wanted him bad enough that it ached.

“I need you to understand a few things, honey,” Scott continues, his voice still that deadly calm, his finger dragging slowly down your chin, tracing a deliberate path down the column of your throat. “I can tolerate you being upset. I’m not happy about it, either, despite what you might think.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his gaze lock onto yours, his eyes dark and unwavering. “But what I won’t tolerate,” he says, his tone sharpening as he closes his hand around your throat with a possessive grip, “is your disrespect.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Scott’s voice is a low, dangerous growl as he tightens his hold on you, his thumb pressing firmly into your pulse. The pressure is confident and calculated — the kind of control that comes from having done this countless times before. “I’m not done.”

Defiance bubbles up and fights Scott at every turn, and despite the way you wriggle under him, your eyes grow hazy with need at the feel of his hand around your throat. God, you knew exactly what those hands were capable of; sweet, delicious torture, doling punishment and reward with equal passion. “But—”

“Why can you never fucking listen?” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates against your ear, his body shifting so that his weight presses down on you. You whimper at the added pressure, your fingers instinctively fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something solid.

Scott notices. With a swift motion, he knocks your wrists away, gripping both of them together with a firm, unyielding hold. When he pins them above your head, possessive and commanding, you can’t help but moan, growing pliant under his weight.

“Maybe I do need to remind you of my rules,” he says, his voice a dangerous purr, “since you seem to like breaking them.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Every word is low and steady, completely in control. “You’re going to pay attention now, aren’t you? You’re going to listen to every word I say.”

Your pulse races under his thumb, the pressure making it difficult to focus on anything other than the commanding presence of his body pressed against yours. The conflicting emotions — fear, need, frustration — swirl together, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Scott’s eyes meet yours again, the dark intensity he’d first set on you softening slightly. “Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it both a challenge and an invitation.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. Always.

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to your temple and cheek, nudging his nose into the curve of your shoulder and kissing the column of your throat. Your body responds in kind, arching up into his generosity, the calm before the storm, as he slowly releases his hold on you. One tap against your wrist is a silent order to keep them there, and you thread your fingers together, looping them into the door grip as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Because you’re going to hate me tonight.”

You want to tell him that such a thing is impossible — there was nothing Scott could do that would make you hate him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was sometimes — but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Lifting you up, or at least as much as he can in the truck with his hulking size, Scott draws a hand around the curve of your waist, pushing his jacket aside to expose more of you.

“Take this off.” He orders. His expression melts back into one of superiority, one you’re all too familiar with, and you try not to pout when he continues with, “I changed my mind. I want it back.”

“Want what back?” You hum, fingers twitching. You debate the pros and cons of pointing out that you can’t take off his jacket with your hands still pinned in place, but bite your lip instead. You were already pushing the envelope — a lot — by feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Sensing that you’re still… sort of… listening, Scott, taps your wrist twice, freeing you of your position. Under his tone, your fingers close around the material of his comfortable clothing, lifting to slip it fully off your frame. You drop it next to your stuff with your eyes trained on his. “When I’m convinced you can behave, I’ll consider giving it back.”

That snaps your mouth shut. Pressing your lips together, you nod as you place your hands back in their previous position, the only tell that he’s satisfied by your change of heart being a slight twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t say you were done,” he drags his gaze along the length of you, his touch following where his eyes roam until he hooks a finger around the belt loop of your shorts. “Take these off, too, and turn around.”

Electricity charges through you at the command in his voice. Your movements are slow, careful, as you try not to bump into anything as you slide out from under him and remove your shirt. Your shorts follow, but he stops you as you hook your thumbs under the waist of your panties, both of his large hands sliding on your hips to face you opposite him.

He’s massive against you, your back pressing against his chest as his hands roam freely, trailing up the length of you and then down your arms to place your hands back in their previous position, fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture. And then his touch returns, calloused fingertips dragging over every spot of your soft skin, cupping your breast in his hand as he sighs against your neck.

You feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans as he pulls you to him, every caress coaxing a fire in you. Even though you want nothing more than to touch him, to take him into your hands, he has you caught. You really wanted that jacket.

And you hated disappointing him.

His touch wanders to your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he smooths a hand up your spine, signaling for you to bend over. You comply with shallow breaths, the warmth of him missing when he puts even more space between you.

“How many times do you think you disobeyed me tonight, honey?” He asks, the question making your heart stutter. He continues to knead your skin, but with your angle, you can’t see anything happening behind you. “I’ll let you guess.”

You try to think back, but everything is hazy now. When you got in these moods — which was more often than not — you had a hard time telling which rules were broken and which weren’t, because, well, you tended to do it a lot. And you knew Scott well enough by now that even if you guessed any number, it wouldn’t be specific. It wouldn’t be right. Guess lower, and he’d add more. Guess higher, and he’d use your number, then remind you of the true one after it was all said and done.

A gasp escapes from you as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck. “I– I don’t know, sir.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just hums, adjusting the twisted straps of your underwear higher up on your hips. “Thirty-two times.” He lets that sit heavy in the air for a moment, your breath stalling in your throat. “You know what happens when it gets that high, honey.”

“You use the belt,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Scott nods. “Mhm. I use the belt.” The soft, metallic clink of his buckle coming undone is followed by a steady hand against your hip, smoothing circles along your skin as you begin to tremble in anticipation. “Shhh. You know the rules. Count.”

The first point of contact is always the worst. He lets the moment play out, your body tensing and easing as you wait for any sign that it’s coming, but he gives no indication when he stops touching you. And then the sharp sting as leather meets your rear, the folded-over halves biting into you with practiced efficiency.

Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening around the handle as you gasp out, “One.”

By the end, your muscles are taut and your backside is red and flaming, your whimpers spilling freely from your mouth. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to hold yourself up, trembling with exertion. Scott rubs his hand along your curves, having given equal attention to both cheeks, a content noise sounding in the back of his throat as you still careen toward him.

“Last one, honey. You’re doing so good.” He praises quietly, the only encouragement you need as his belt goes sailing toward you again, leaving another welt in its wake.

“Thirty-two!” Escaping through gritted teeth, you jerk forward with the impact, breathing hard and heavy when you hear the clink of his belt falling to the floor.

Scott taps twice along your stomach as he brings you up to his chest, careful to leave space between you as he smooths over your sore muscles, easing the pain. He presses kisses along your throat, your shoulder, letting you shake against him as you lulls you down from the high, every touch soft and affectionate. “That’s it, I know… Shhh… Did so good for me, honey…”

Each sweet nothing brings you down, continuing to press kisses against your skin until your breathing evens out. Scott sets his hands to your hips, holding you firmly, nudging the space just behind your ear.

“If you just listened, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He reminds, letting your hands drift over his. Despite the softness of his tone, you still catch the authority seeping through every word, and you know it’s far from over. “I don’t like how you spoke to me today, honey.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathe, meaning them truthfully. Scott presses another kiss to your skin in acknowledgment. “I was just upset. I wanted to spend this weekend with you, and—”

“Am I not making this time now?” He questions, cutting you off. When his touch wanders between your thighs, fingers circling your clothed clit, soaked despite his brutal treatment, he groans against you. “What was it you said earlier… That I couldn’t touch you? That you wouldn’t let me?”

Vaguely, through your hazy mind, you remember saying that. But you keep your mouth shut, quiet little noises escaping as he continues to please you, easing away the pain he’d caused. Your desire for him, so neglected because of his orders, coils deep inside you as he recites your perfect tempo — having spent hours exploring, learning, and committing what you enjoyed to memory.

“Let’s make one thing abundantly clear,” he continues. “Every part of you is mine to touch, spank, suck, lick, and fuck as I please. Any time. Any day. Any place. Those are the rules you agreed to. If I want you just like this…” Adding pressure, he holds you up as your knees buckle against him, “I will, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words come out shaky, breath hitching with every skilled circle of his fingers. “I understand, sir.”

“Then show me you understand.” Within a second his touch is gone, leaving you delirious as you search for him. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, twisting to watch him slip off his shirt, then ease himself down on the backseat with a foot firmly planted on the floor. His fingers hover over the button on his jeans, flipping it open as his dark gaze trains on you. “Come here.”

You comply immediately, drawing forward as his hand slips in your hair. Scott pushes down the restricting fabric, slipping his hand into his black briefs, freeing himself from his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, thick and veiny and dripping with precum, his fist stroking himself as he holds you there, coating his length with his desire.

“Look what you do to me,” he whispers, drinking in every shallow breath, the way your eyes remain fixed on his hand, how your hips stir with every twist like you imagining yourself riding him. “Even when you’re a fucking brat, I can’t get enough of you, honey. Always so fucking hard for you. You have no idea…” He releases himself to cup your chin, spreading himself over the swell of your mouth. You greedily taste what he offers, tongue lapping at him before sucking on the tip of his thumb. “I’d spend an eternity inside you if I could.”

Those words — the claim, the rare admission — makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Without waiting for his command, you crawl between his legs and sink to draw your hand along his jean-clad thigh, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. As he wets his lips, you grip his length in your hand, his girth barely allowing you to wrap fully around him. Scott’s breath hitches as you stroke him exactly how he prefers, your hand sinking lower with each slow, deliberate movement.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the tip of his cock as pink as his lips, and you pay special attention to it, thumb smoothing along the sensitive underside of him. The soft action has his hips bucking up into your touch, breath hissing between his teeth as he wraps your hair around his fist.

No matter how many times you were in this position, nothing changed how exhilarating it was to have brief a moment of power over him.

When you move to take him into your mouth, your tongue flat and eager, Scott wraps his fingers around your throat, that playful glint in his eyes replacing quickly with hellish intent.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” He murmurs, releasing his grip on your hair to pluck your hand off him.

You want to point out that he didn’t seem to have a problem with that when he’d been half-thrusting into your hand, but the look in his eyes silences the retort on your lips. So you let him grip your wrist, and your throat, sure he can feel the heavy pound of your pulse as you whimper at the interruption.

“I just want a little taste,” you plead, jutting your bottom lip out and batting your thick lashes up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

Scott just shakes his head. And you feel the coil of defiance begin again.

“Don’t you want my tongue on you, sir? Licking up every thick inch of you? Seeing how much I can take in my hot little mouth?” You know you’re pushing it with how his grip on your wrist tightens, but fuck, you needed to feel him, to touch him, especially after he’d denied you the pleasure of it for so long.

You shift so your free hand wraps around his shaft again. Scott grunts as he watches you play with him, your small hand moving effortlessly along his girth. With both his hands occupied, he has nothing to stop you from doing what you want, what you need, as your gaze flickers down to openly admire his masculinity. “Don’t I look so pretty when I choke on you, baby?”

Despite how his gaze darkens and he twitches in your hand, Scott releases your wrist enough to rest his hand on the edge of the backseat, his brow raising. “You’d look prettier if you listened, sweetheart.”

The condescending nickname rolls through you, your face twisting in disgust at it — he knew you hated it, knew it reminded you of the old men who often tried to make passes at you. It disgusts you enough that you release him from your grip, watching a smile slowly spread on his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to sound weak with his fist still around you.

“And I thought I told you to listen, but you don’t seem to be doing a good job of that even after the belt.” He shifts his grip from the front of your neck to the back of it, pulling you closer. “What’s my name?”

You hesitate at how hard his gaze is trained on you. “Sir.”

He nods. “And what did you call me earlier?”

Oh. As the dots connect, realization flickering across your features, Scott’s eyes mirror your understanding. He doesn’t give you a chance to say it, continuing, “Until you can learn to listen, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You wait for a day, an end time, something that’ll make counting the days at least a little worthwhile — but it never comes. Instead, he just stares at you, waiting for you to defy him again, waiting for you to open your mouth, to push back. But his fingers twitch like he’s going to reach for his belt again, and the thought of that on your already raw backside makes a whimper escape.

“I understand, sir.”

His gaze softens for a moment — and a small part of you hopes that he changes his mind, that he’ll take it back… But Scott was never that type of man. Once something was final, it was final. No amount of begging or pleading could win your case.

He cups your face in his hands like he knows what he’s asking may push you past your breaking point. Never in the months you’ve been together has he implemented something indefinitely, but you’ve never pushed back this much. When his mouth roams over yours, gentle given the circumstances, you taste the sharp spearmint of his gum as his tongue explores you, soothing your whimpers and whines until you’re somewhat relaxed under his touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you blow me, honey?” He asks, lips ghosting over your mouth, your jaw, pressing a kiss against the column of your throat. You nod, not trusting your voice. “I mean it. No whining. No pleading. No biting.” His gaze flickers up to yours as a memory passes through both of you, your cheeks heating up, caught. He knew you too fucking well. “If I want you to choke on me, you’re going to choke. If I want you to wrap those pretty lips around my head, you will. And if I want your mouth not on me at all…”

“I’ll listen, sir,” you promise, breathless, squirming with need.

Scott’s eyes flash with approval, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before he settles back down against the leather. You follow, slow, cautious, your hands pressing into his thighs as he grips himself.

And when you wrap your lips around him, everything else fades away. You take him at his pace, slower than you would prefer but dutifully obeying his silent instructions, your hair coiled around his fist. The taste of him on your tongue has your eyes glazing over with desire, flickering up to watch him watch you, your head bobbing around his length, spit sliding down his shaft as he makes you take him deeper, deeper, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and there’s still inches between you.

Scott groans as he pushes you further, trained on how your body instinctively fights him, taking his cock entirely in your mouth when your nose brushes the soft skin of his abdomen. Your core drips with need, soaking your panties, at the guttural sound that escapes him: all masculine and intoxicating. You crave more of it, more of his approval, more of him — but he pulls you off with a pop, a trail of saliva traveling from his swollen head to your mouth, before doing it again and again, each time longer than the last.

“So fucking good,” he pants, pulling you off him again, his eyes blown as you suck on his tip like a lollipop.

Your tongue swirls around his head, wrapping your hands around the rest of him that you don’t swallow, little moans escaping.

And then he’s pressing you back down again, his grip holding you stationary as he thrusts into you like he can’t help himself, every action powerful and erotic as the sound of your throat taking his vigorous pace fills the truck. As he fucks your mouth, you knead your breast in your hand, pinching hard at your nipple when the desire to slip your hand between your thighs nearly overcomes you.

Scott watches it all with a growing arousal, his voice deep as he groans. “Fuck, honey, just like that. Want you to remember this next time you think of talking back,” he says, eyes closing briefly at how good you feel. “So fucking perfect with my cock down your throat. Does that make you hot, honey? Wanna rub that fucking clit while I fuck your face?”

You moan around him in response, something between a yes and a please that sounds more muffled than an actual word. Every time you take him deeper you feel that hot flash of aching desire pulse through you, your blood hot, sure that even through your panties you were dripping all over his leather seats.

The thought has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Scott’s growls turn positively primal as he pulls you off. “Keep making that face and I’m gonna cum right down that pretty throat.” He lifts enough to bring you to your knees, wrapping an arm around you to pull you flush against him as he drags his heavy touch along your naked frame. “You don’t want that, do you, honey? Fuck, I can smell how soaked you are for me.”

He wastes no time as he slips his hand beneath your panties, fingers sliding easily between your slicked folds as he groans. “My dirty girl. You like my filthy fucking mouth, honey, is that it?” Scott pushes a finger inside you, your body arching up into his as you nod, a breathy noise escaping. “Like when I tell you how good you feel? How fucking hard it gets me? How I dream about fucking you every single night when I’m away?”

God, yes. You assumed — but never asked — about what he thought when he couldn’t be near you, but the confirmation that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours makes you clench around his finger.

“I’m gonna taste you,” Scott promises, his voice ragged. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the city.”

It’s all the warning you get before he presses you down onto the seat, his mouth capturing yours as he settles atop you. Your body is pliant underneath his, gripping every inch of him, while he trails his mouth along your soft skin. Fuck, you felt like heaven to him — so smooth to his calloused hands.

And you made the prettiest noises when his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking and flicking at the hardened nub before giving equal attention to the other, all too aware of how your hips roll helplessly as he kisses his way down your tummy.

“I love how desperate you get,” he groans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs. He nudges your legs apart with his nose, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your thigh. Thick fingers spread your folds apart as he takes you in, the touch making you reach for something to hold onto.

“Please,” you whine, running your fingertips along his shoulder, propping yourself up as he sucked a possessive mark into your thigh. Scott just hums, moving to the other, relishing in the sharp intake of breath as he nips at you. “Please make me feel good, sir?”

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks again, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, his question serious as he nears the apex of your thighs.

You nod, tongue darting out between your lips as his focus momentarily breaks, darting down to watch how his fingers slide effortlessly over you, teasing your clit. “I’ll be good, sir, I swear.” Just as long as he keeps touching you like that, you’ll agree to anything.

Scott hums, playing with you for long enough that you think he’ll tease you into oblivion. But then his tongue darts out. licking a hot stripe up your center, and he groans, and you… You have just enough time to fall back to seat before his mouth is upon you.

The way he claims you with his tongue makes the wait worth it. Scott isn’t shy about feasting on you, his wet fingers slipping to spread your thighs further apart for him, lapping at you like your pussy is a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick against your clit, every long drag that has you gasping for breath, your mouth falling open while he readjusts his grip to keep you steady.

Scott groans as he collects your desire on his tongue, pulling back enough to revel at how spread open you are for him. He spits, the lewd action making your head spin, before his fingers rub it through your folds, circling your entrance while his other reaches up to knead your breast.

“I wish we had hours for this.” The admission is low in his voice, ragged from claiming you, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you try to still your hips against his torturous fingers. “Just as sweet as I remember, honey. Better. Fuck, you taste so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, descending upon you again as his mouth attaches to your clit. You cry out at the special attention he gives it, teasing you just right, his tongue swirling and flicking and lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips move on their own accord, fingers digging into his brown curls as you grind in time with his tongue. Scott gasps as his touch abandons you to stroke himself, the angle uncomfortable in the cramped space of his backseat.

You clamp down on your bottom lip when your orgasm builds faster than you expect it to, hoping to stifle the increase of noise as he brings you closer and closer. Scott just keeps his brutal pace, those dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Sir—” Your breath comes out hot when he groans, the vibrations of it nearly toppling you over the edge. You want so desperately to listen, fighting the way he coaxes it quicker, something heady and mischievous sparkling in those eyes, but it’s too much, he’s too much, that invisible rubber band pulling tighter and tighter, your control slipping, the wet sounds of his tongue dragging over your heat too much to bear—

You scream out as Scott pulls away entirely from you, all that tension coiling tight with nowhere to release, and watch helplessly as his expression flickers somewhere between smug and disappointed. You tremble against the loss, little twitches that give away how close you were from disobedience, your whine high and keening.

“Oh, honey, were you close?” Scott coos, his tone full of condescension as he rests his cheek on your thigh, an evil, wicked, vile grin teasing the corners of his mouth. You glare at the dimple in his cheek. “You think I’m dumb enough to not know when you are? That your pussy doesn’t tell me when you’re trying to be quiet? I know all your tells, honey. Every. Single. One.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his palm coming down hard against your open heat. The slap has you spiraling, a cry escaping you as your back arches up off the leather, the pain lingering uncomfortably as your ass grinds against the seat. Scott wastes no time crawling up your body, swallowing all your pitiful noises as you taste yourself on his tongue.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Not tonight, honey.”

Your heart seizes in your chest at the confirmation — having suspected it, but half-hoping that he’d forgive your past sins if you were good enough. Scott just grins, lifting so all his weight isn’t settled atop you, running his hands down the still-twitching frame of your body, pushing his jeans down further as one hand drags along your hip.

“Please?” You beg, taking his face in your hands, blinking big doe eyes up at him. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His confidence in you is unwavering, pausing his movements to give you his undivided attention. One kiss, two, three, to the corner of your mouth, each softer than the last, bringing you down from a high he stole away. “We’ll test those limits properly another time. I have so many ideas…” He trails off with a groan, seeming to think better of listing all the ways he could make you bend to his will. “But you can. And you will.”

A whimper escapes at the finality, but you manage a weak nod. It’s all the encouragement Scott needs to draw your leg around his hip, slotting himself between your parted legs. The weight of him dragging through your slicked folds presses a gasp into his shoulder, your arms sliding around his broad frame.

And then he’s sinking into you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your taut body stretches to accommodate his size.

He’s massive — and delicious and throbbing and every other perfect word in the dictionary as you forget how to breathe, how to think, the more he buries himself inside you. You hear his strangled moan against your neck as your head tosses back, pulling him closer, hissing as he draws back just to press right back into you.

He works you just like that for what feels like hours, pushing and pulling, slow as he presses kisses to your skin, holding your hips steady. You know he’s holding himself back, that he’s letting your body get used to him after so long apart, after little more than a press of his fingers and tongue at your entrance. It makes your heart flutter in your chest — he could have fucked his way ruthlessly through you and you would’ve taken every second of it just the same, but the fact that he pauses to take his time now, to lengthen a moment that he shouldn’t be having in the first place…

God. You loved him.

You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, his hips driving forward just a little further on instinct. “Fucking missed this,” Scott pants, careful as he slides a palm under you, lifting your ass off the seat to thrust inside you again. Your gentle touch trails across his broad shoulders and down his arms, a silent message for him to keep going.

And then he fucks you like he promised.

It’s a combination of everything: the time apart, the time you had left, how neither of you could seem to get close enough to each other. He splits you apart and brings you back together with every snap of his hips, filling you exactly how you need, gasping against each other as you angle up to meet him halfway.

Your mouth presses feverishly to his, the sound of your desperate moans filling the small space against the way your body greedily accepts his. Scott stalls his tempo just enough to pull away, sliding his hands back to your hips to lift you onto him before returning to his brutal pace, the new angle giving you a perfect view of his cock stretching you out.

“Being so good for me,” Scott hums, pleased, his fingers splaying over your belly as he ruts deeper into you. The intensity of it, of him, makes you blink back stars as his heady gaze is trained on yours, grabbing onto him as he continues, “Feels so fucking good, honey, fuck.“

Your eyes slip down to watch as he slides in you, the sight of him hard and coated with your arousal making you moan. Scott grips the back of your neck to keep you there, your body curled up into whatever mold he desires, pressing your knee back to the cushion as he shifts himself closer.

“Dirty fucking girl, you like that?” Scott’s voice turns guttural with how you tighten around him, your pretty moans like music to his ears, “Like watching your little pussy take my cock? Seeing how fucking good I stretch you out?”

You nod, another moan spilling from your mouth, only to whimper when he slides fully out of you. The crude smack of his cock against your clit only makes you hotter, your skin on fire as he plays with you, always in control. “Tell me,” he groans, teasing as he grinds himself against you. “Let me hear you, honey.”

“I love it,” you pant, unable to tear your gaze away from his thick length. You want desperately to reach down and press him where you crave him most, but you resist, fingers curling into fists at his sides as you plead, “Please fill me up, sir, I need it. Need you to fuck me, need you to claim me, need you to make this little pussy all fucking yours, please.”

It’s all Scott needs to press into you again, his pace hard and demanding with your wishes. He slides an arm underneath you to hold you steady, his teeth leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, your collar, pressing moans into your skin with every rough piston of his hips, the sound of skin on skin, and your hard, labored breathing filling the space. And then he’s flipping you over, your hands and knees pressing into the leather as you push back against him, delirious with the new angle as he tugs you up, your back to his chest.

The possessive, strong grip on your waist slides up to knead your breast while he thrusts into you from behind, his lips at your ear, growling every profanity under the sun.

“This what you want, honey?” His hips snap hard into you, the contact against your sensitive ass making your eyes roll back into your head. The mix of the pleasure and the pain he gives you is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. Scott always finds the perfect balance, his hand sliding between your thighs to tease your clit, your body wanton against him. “Being claimed? Owning you completely?” At your answering moan, he grins. “Could you handle it? Being mine in every way?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying in vain not to swirl your hips and failing, searching for more while he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I’m already yours, sir.”

“Yeah, honey, I feel it.” They come out strangled as you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to every touch. “So sweet right now, aren’t you? Wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” You whimper out as he angles himself deeper inside you, hitting that spongey spot in time with his ministrations. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, as he finds the perfect pace to drive you closer to the edge, dangling just on the precipice of release. “Bet you’d agree to anything right now just to cum, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Head tossing back against his shoulder, you dig your nails into his jeans where you hold him to you, looking at but not seeing the reflection of how he commands you, his mouth drawing along your neck. “Please,” you beg, trembling with the exertion of holding yourself together. “Scott— Sir, please, I’m so close—”

“I know.” Cooed, mockingly, along the column of your throat, he ceases every torturous move as he stills inside of you, his hands quick to press your hips down against his. The sudden lack of attention makes you cry out, chest heaving, as he steals your orgasm away again, the frustration and desire mixing until you’re growling through clenched teeth.

Scott just grins, watching it all with a gleeful expression, that dark look swirling in his eyes as he doesn’t dare move an inch. “You can be as nice as you want, honey,” He presses a patronizing kiss to your shoulder, that alone having you twitching against him, small little sounds that you can’t control escaping as he toys with your fraying edges. “I’m still not letting you cum tonight.”

“But—” You think better against talking back, clamping your mouth shut as you whimper again. “When?”

“When you’ve earned it.” Scott slides his hands over your body, dragging along your peaked nipples, taking both breasts in his large hands and groaning as he touches you. “You want to earn it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp automatically, your hands fisting handfuls of his brown locks as he sucks another possessive mark on you. “Please, sir.”

“How far would you go?” His voice carries that inquisitive tone that speaks of danger, the kind that has your cunt fluttering around him in response. He grunts against you at the sensation, still unmoving, just thick and hard and throbbing in you enough to leave your mind reeling. Your breath stalls when his touch wanders down to press at your belly. “Would you let me cum inside you?”

Every thought in your brain scatters at those words, wanting and needing before you can even voice it. He’s never asked; always pulling out to paint your chest, your back, your face. But the way he asks, his voice quiet yet desperate, the unmistakable edge to it that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while, waiting for the right time, the right moment — suddenly his insistence on if you’d brought your birth control comes to the front of your mind, and you know. Know he’s been planning this. That if it weren’t here, it would’ve been sometime this weekend.

Scott is patient as he lets it all sink in, studying you, waiting for a shift of an expression, or your body responding against his desires. Something dark awakens in him at your whimper of approval.

“You’d look so fucking pretty like that,” he continues, slowly resuming his pace, much slower now than it was before, as he groans every fantasy he’s dreamt of for the past week into you. “So full of my cum… It wouldn’t all fit, would it, honey? But you’d beg me, wouldn’t you? Beg me to fuck it deeper in your sweet cunt?” Your breath labors as he grunts out, teeth sinking into your skin. “Beg me to put a baby in you?”

Fuck, yes.

You writhe against him with every word out of his mouth, your moans spilling freely as you nod, desperate, agreeable, unaware of how much he wanted it, obsessed about it. How the sight of you in his clothes made him want to put a ring on your finger, how every time you came over to his place he had to fight to ask you to move in, how the idea of your belly swollen with his child made him so horny he couldn’t think about anything else some days, how the thought of you and forever were so intertwined to him now that he couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend the rest of his life with.

All sappy, sentimental things that he didn’t dare voice, locked tight between his teeth, letting only a little spill out.

The need to own you, to claim you, was overwhelming. Scott wanted nothing more than to fuck you hard enough to make your brain flicker off until you couldn’t even speak, until you were completely at his mercy, until every drop of him was spent inside you. Possession and desire bleed into one — just waiting, aching, throbbing, bruisingly so, for your voiced consent.

“I need it,” you finally choke out, trembling, your voice utterly broken. “Please give it to me, sir? Please, please, pretty please?”

Scott moans, long and deep and loud, as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. And then he’s pounding into you, every muscle of his body pulled tight as you wrap around him like velvet perfection, his grip hard and unyielding against your hips as every rough slam of his hips into yours sends your body jolting forward. Your hand slaps to the window in front of you, leaving prints against the foggy glass, and he follows greedily, pressing his weight into you as he spreads your thighs further apart with a growl, fucking you into the seats.

Your orgasm painfully lingers, every needy moan spilling from your mouth only driving him further into you, wild with need, no longer the controlled man you knew but something more animalistic, primal.

“Fucking take it just like that,” he growls, not even sounding human, every word gritted through his teeth as you feel every thick inch of him around your slick walls, his hand slotted between your thighs to part your folds, sinking deeper until there’s no space left. “F-fuck, that’s so fucking— Perfect, honey, fuck— Pussy’s fucking made for me—”

He’s close — you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven as he chases his release, the way he roughly grasps your chin to kiss you, sloppy and more tongue than lips, how his fingers leave Scott-shaped bruises wherever he grips you, his blunt nails biting into your hip, your sides, your breasts as he struggles for purchase. You don’t realize you’re sobbing in pleasure until he wipes your tears away, until he praises how good you’re being taking him like this, groaning when your body responds eagerly to his positivity.

You dance in time with him, meeting him halfway, angling your hips up just right. And you feel, rather than hear, the way Scott moans in ecstasy as he finds that perfect spot in your heat, numb to anything and everything that isn’t his thick cock pounding your weeping, used hole.

You think you cum — or maybe it’s just the last shreds of sanity leaving as Scott reaches his peak, nothing but your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you with his seed, rutting up against you until it’s painful, the warmth of him spreading into you. His heart pounds against you as he slips his hand to your belly, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his hips twitch until he’s emptied out, fucking the last drops of his cum into you exactly like he’s dreamt.

And when you come down your orgasm sits uncomfortably high and untouched, a broken sob escaping you as he pulls out with a wet pop.

You feel his cum slide down your swollen cunt and flinch with sensitivity as he’s quick to collect himself on his fingers, fucking it back into you. The tension coils tightly inside of you until you’re sure you’re begging him to stop, the pleasure and pain completely overwhelming, exhausted with the effort of obeying his orders as he presses his digits into your used hole.

When you think just about to break, he stops.

And you know you’re going to kill him as he steals your release for a third time.

“Good girl,” Scott whispers, pressing kisses along your soft skin, his hands soothing every part of your twitching frame. You don’t have the strength to ask for more as he pulls you into his arms after sliding your panties back into place, letting you come down as he finds his peace in caring for you, murmuring sweet nothings while your body is pliant against him.

You nuzzle into him when you feel more in control of yourself, your heart slowing to a more steady pace. His name falls softly from your lips, your arms snaking around him to hold him close, his fingertips soft along the small of your back.

When he presses his mouth to yours, you melt into his embrace, exploring him lazily until he’s pulling away, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. “Mine.” He praises with a smile, that dark expression gone, leaving nothing but bright, shining blues you could drown in for hours. “All fucking mine. I own you.”

“Mmm,” Despite the weary in your bones, you can’t help but smile back, a giggle escaping, “Do you?”

Scott doesn’t need to slip his hand between your legs for you to get the picture, just hooks a finger along the waistband of your ruined panties. “You just let me prove it, honey.” He leans forward to kiss you again, slower this time, before pulling away with a regretful sigh when the distinctive chime of his phone goes off. “Need help getting back in your seat?”

“Already?” You whine.

“Gotta go, honey.” He taps your hip, twice. Non-negotiable. “Come on, before the bears smell you and want you for themselves.”

That has you cracking a grin. “You wouldn’t fight a bear for me?”

“What do you think the murder kit is for?” One last kiss to your mouth. “’Course I would. Just not tonight.”

You pout further, but let him grab your long-forgotten clothes off the floor, making yourself presentable again before he does the same. And when you settle back into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, you let your head rest against the window, bubbly and content and happy. Even if you know it won’t last when he has to leave.

As Scott drives through the familiar city streets, you hate the knot of apprehension that clogs your throat when your mind wanders too far about him being gone. Out on the field, anything could happen, even if it was just one of his routine visits. The people he spoke with — if he approached the wrong one, it would be so easy for them to lash out. Scott was a big man, he could take care of himself, but that didn’t stop your fears from pressing down against you.

His hand is firm on your thigh, thumb stroking soft lines in your skin as he catches your expression. And then his truck takes a turn in the opposite direction of your apartment, heading toward his house.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion as you try to shake off your emotions.

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “My place,” he answers simply. “You’ve been up all night, and I’m not about to drop you off and leave you alone like that.”

You frown, the earlier emotions fighting to come back; you glance quickly out the window, cheeks flaming as you’re caught, hating that he’d noticed your weakness. “I’m fine, Scott. I can—”

“No,” he cuts in gently, but firmly. “You need rest. And I’ll rest better knowing you’re somewhere comfortable.” His eyes flick toward you, catching your reflection in the dim light of the street lamps. “Besides,” he adds, his voice lowering to something more intimate, “I’ve got a bed that’s been missing you.”

It’s not a request, and the way he says it makes your heart skip. You know he’s right. As much as you’d wanted to protest, the thought of sleeping alone in your own bed feels wrong, especially with the lingering warmth of his touch still buzzing under your skin.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the familiar sight of his place is almost a comfort in itself. Scott’s fingers brush over your thigh before he parks the truck, a silent reassurance. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he murmurs, shutting off the engine, “but I want you here. I want you safe.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he’s too stubborn to say out loud, but you feel it all the same. He reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, unable to find the words, so you just lean into his touch. Scott doesn’t need more than that. He’s out of the truck and rounding it to your side before you can even blink, opening your door and offering his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says softly, tugging you out and pulling you close against him. His arm slips around your waist as he guides you to the front door, his hold steady and reassuring.

Once inside, the warmth of his home envelops you both, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to melt away. He’s quick to guide you to his bedroom, knowing the layout of his place better than anyone, but still taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in.

As you slip under the covers, Scott pauses at the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on you. “Get some sleep,” he tells you, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide in beside you, pulling you against his chest. For a moment, you both just lie there, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothing you into a drowsy haze. Scott presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively over your hip.

“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

In the morning, you wake to the sound of his alarm, the room still dark. Scott’s already dressed, but he hasn’t left yet. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a softness in his eyes that he rarely lets show. He reaches out, brushing his fingers through your hair as you try to rustle yourself awake.

“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Promise.”

Before you can respond, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you drift back into a peaceful slumber, the last thing you feel is the comforting weight of his hand slipping from yours.

When you finally rise, well rested but achey from the night’s exertions, the sun is high in the afternoon sky and his house is empty, his truck missing from the garage. You wander into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, pulling the kettle out from underneath his cabinet. And when the steaming mug is in your hands, settling into the breakfast nook that overlooks his backyard, your eyes fall upon his jacket, folded neatly atop all the stuff he’d unpacked while you were sleeping.

And you know he loves you as much as you love him.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: roadtrip.

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abyssalzones · 6 months ago

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can you tell us about your interpretation of the better world universe!!!! especially curious how stan/mystery trio works into it

hell yesssss I definitely can. ABW is maybe my favorite niche gf thing and probably the only "AU" I care about but that may be due to the fact that it's an AU that exists in the canon and we know so little about it. so it has an established foundation that you're left to fill in the details with yourself... it's like a poke bowl to me. you can put anything in there

and since I felt like it here's a bonus pic of them living their best lives pestering ford

[explanation-y stuff under ze cut because I got very longwinded]

as for specifics of how I see everything working out, there's a few key points that establish why things happened differently from canon, the most important being:

Stan agrees to hide journal #3 somewhere

Ford reunites with fiddleford and they begin working together again

both of these are already confirmed in canon, the first being the most obvious "schism" between timelines. literally everything in ABW is the way it is because stan made a different decision. kind of crazy in terms of its implications: I feel like that moment in the basement is a really good example of how stan gets so few opportunities to shape her own life (while ford is in the picture...) because of her role as the 'black sheep' twin. it's not exactly a premeditated decision to push ford into the portal, it's her acting on feelings that have been bubbling unaddressed under the surface for 10-something years at that point, and only then does she have any sort of power over the "narrative" of both her life and the story itself, something that from her pov has been ford's story. and in the canon timeline, she says no.

so like, what the hell made her say yes in ABW's timeline? this question kind of haunts me because I feel like it has to be entirely dependent on what the inside of stan's head looked like at the time. it's possible something influenced her, but overall I think it's more interesting if ford did and said all the exact same things up until this point and it really was entirely dependent on stan's decision internally.

so stan says yes, goes on a big trip to the other side of the world somehow, and buries journal 3 somewhere probably never to be found again. yay! but, uh, going on a trip like ford was suggesting would... take weeks. that would leave ford alone again. and not to have my established thoughts informed by new material or anything but bill did give him 72 hours.

so, next order of business: how in the fuck would ford convince fiddleford to rejoin him??? I'm unsure between journal 3 and tbob's information how ford may have tried to reach out to him but it seems like fiddleford was pretty adamant about staying away from that guy, out of guilt or fear of bill/the portal or both. I don't think logically it would just be a matter of ford calling him enough times or finding out where he lives- and I think that's kind of getting away from the point of why ABW is the way it is too. if stan is suddenly making decisions that are influencing ford's life, I think it would be similarly interesting if fiddleford also possessed some unique autonomy in this scenario.

aka I think ford got fucked up badly (possibly involving losing an eye) and fiddleford found him half-dead while trying to burn his house down. [mabel voice] romance!

to clarify: I don't think fiddleford is obligated to take care of ford. a major part of him leaving the project was finally making the decision to leave a situation that was hurting him, that he'd been staying in entirely because he still cared about ford and felt on some level he could still help him (which gets broken with "I don't need you!") and I think that's a very reasonable decision on his part. but I also do have to think about all the times ford has been "the hero" in situations where fiddleford ends up hurt and helpless because of something traumatizing. I think it'd be fascinating to see that reversed and have fiddleford actively making the difficult, messy decision to take care of that guy even when they're on miserable terms. and so begins like a solid week of these two desperately trying to look out for eachother in a nightmare scenario where one of them probably needs to go to a hospital + keeps getting possessed off and on and the other is going through the worst addiction/withdrawal cycle of his life irt the memory gun. yay! (part of the reason this even works To Me also is heavily informed by the lack of secrets: if fiddleford is actively dressing that guy's wounds he can't really keep it all to himself anymore. crushingly intimate perhaps...)

stan gets back eventually. such is the context of this pic

from there it's a nebulous grab-bag of things I think could happen up to the foundation of the institute.

how do all three of these incredibly fucked up individuals get along? well they don't but then they do.

how do they get bill out of ford's head without performing amateur brain surgery? idk. my best guess is a fiddleford and stan bonding trip into ford's mindscape that potentially helps answer the first question. possibly utilizing the memory gun. shrugs.

what's up with that one picture you drew of parallel fidds holding the memory gun up to ford's head? well. okay that one might or might not be something that actually happened but the idea was just that ford is coping badly with a few specific things and I liked the idea of fiddleford "holding onto" something for him to remember and work through later when he's ready to deal with it, it's an interesting reversal of how he's normally more of a memory sink.

from the point in canon about them stabilizing the portal so that bill can't use it to get into their dimension anymore onward, I think it just becomes a matter of them living the lives they could've always had in canon without realizing it. hence "a better world." some cool tidbits I like to think about:

stan gets to transition much earlier (late 1990's perhaps?) and probably starts going by "lee" instead

she's also the institute's CMO and is mostly in it for going on business trips abroad with ford. and the money. obviously.

the institute probably also legitimately changes the world on a sociopolitical scale outside of just interdimensional travel since their research renders them uniquely untouchable and all three of them are trans (I'm cartoon logic-ing a little bit here just let me have this one)

ford is the eccentric bill nye esque face of the company, fiddleford is the backbone. that isn't to say ford doesn't do anything as I think he'd always moreso be in it for the science than the fame (though it is nice to be more than comfortable financially) but it's an open secret fiddleford keeps tabs on literally everything, he's still very security-oriented.

the northwest family now has a more prominent ongoing rivalry with the pines family that could be very funny to think about. they've taken all the LOGGING JOBS with their damn SCIENCE

part of the reason I thought ford should lose an eye is because I think having him wear an eyepatch would be a neat way to parallel stan's "role" as mr. mystery visually! stan wears an eyepatch for no legitimate reason to keep up appearances as a schlocky tourist trap host, but it also alludes to her being more than she seems under the surface. ford's eyepatch does sort of have a legitimate reason to exist, but he also could just wear his glass eye and it would probably be less "conspicuous." he chooses the eyepatch instead because it's part of his image as Stanford Pines, Founder of Oddology, and because it keeps him safe. there's also a little residual scarring there from damage to his eyelid/tarsal plate which could easily represent him hiding the more "damaged" aspects of himself under his successes. ouch.

I'm unsure if ford and stan would ever feel comfortable getting back in touch with their parents. I know a lot of people go that route with fan material but I don't think they should have to. I think they're much happier now having healed the rift between them on their own and getting to live successful lives for themselves, rather than to prove something to their father.

that being said I do think fiddleford gets in touch with emma-may and his son again and they end up on better terms with time and a Lot of effort. tate's family is now composed of his father, mother, "uncle" ford (in the ye olde gay closeted sense of referring to your dad's partner as an uncle), and auntie lee, and I like to think they go out on trips to the lake together often :]

also ford and fiddleford tie the knot unofficially (in the eyes of the government anyway) in 1990. owed to stan somehow getting "ordained" as a rabbi. don't ask me how.

the pines twins start visiting the institute from a younger age than they do irt visiting stan in the show-- but they're only permitted to come along on heavily-supervised interdimensional excursions once they turn 12. cue antics!

anyway, hopefully this extremely longwinded and loosely structured mess helped answer your question. I like ABW sooo so so much you guys

#sorry this took a while I wanted to draw something extra for it ^_^ and I've been busyyy #lab notes #askbox #lab discussion #lab creations #gravity falls

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chantersboard · 5 days ago

Text

Perfection

Word Count: 3.1 K. Joel Miller x f!reader. You are a server at an event where Joel is the client and you make a mistake that needs fixing aka Joel fucks your face because you fucked up.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, AU, oral male receiving, deepthroating/face fucking, swallowing, dubcon (power imbalance, reader works for Joel), reader has hair that can be pulled, orgasm denial

a/n: is this even a Joel Miller fic at this point or is it just straight up a Pedro Pascal fic? idk because this fic was 100% inspired by the Fantastic Four trailer and how goddamn neat and pressed he looks in one frame and then a stressed mess in another. That astronaut image is DOING things to me. so here's pedro with a southern accent I guess lmao. this is the meanest I've ever written Joel. I can't do this I need my soft sweet man back.

Enjoy!

#chantersboardwritessometimes for other work (I will make a masterlist one of these days... maybe)

Perfection

The staff had been warned: be on your best behavior; tonight’s host was a perfectionist. The tablecloths were steamed twice and the cutlery was washed and dried by hand. The fresh flowers in the centerpieces were measured and cut to be the exact same length. New curtains were flown in from France and crystal flutes were flown in from Italy. Every handrail and doorknob and bathroom faucet was polished until it shone.

No detail was overlooked for this event and you could tell as you walked through the room. You have been a server for almost a year now yet you’ve never seen a gala as polished as this one. Your white dress shirt and black pencil skirt are stiff with starch—a must from the host—as you balance a tray of champagne, smiling politely at whoever picks up a bubbling glass by the stem. It’s not long until your tray is empty and you make your way to the kitchen.

When you push through the swinging doors you find some of the kitchen crew crowding the entrance.

“Did you see him?” one of them asks.

Another one answers, “Guy with the red and gold pocket square and the salt and pepper beard? Yeah, I saw him.”

“Joel Miller,” someone says with ire. “He’s the reason we’re putting in all these extra hours.”

They continue to complain while someone loads your tray with new glasses. He made the chef redo several dishes. He said the napkins weren’t folded correctly. He sent a server home because their clothes weren’t pressed enough. He told someone in the quartet their instrument was out of tune.

The outlandish complaints continue and a chill creeps up your spine. The host sounds absolutely horrible. You’ve worked events with bridezillas and micromanagers and clients straight from hell but this guy takes the cake. You make a mental note to stay out of his way. Better safe than sorry.

You grab the tray of Italian flutes full of chilled champagne and begin to head back to the floor. Just as you’re turning the corner someone inside the kitchen calls for you. You turn your head, just for a moment, looking to see who needs you, when you slam into someone.

The imported glasses wobble and fall onto the tray and the golden liquid splashes in every direction. You watch a shiny flute tumble to the floor and explode into a million glittering shards.

“Shit,” you mumble. “I’m sorr—”

Your apology is caught in your throat when you finally look up. You recognize the red and gold pocket square first, then the salt and pepper beard. Yes, it would be just your luck to spill champagne all over the host Joel Miller.

His hair is perfectly styled, no strand is out of place. The graying temples are slicked back and you wouldn’t be surprised if each individual hair was cut to line up just so. His facial hair is also trimmed neatly and it shows off his strong jaw. Manicured eyebrows sit above intense brown eyes. He is a handsome man, there’s no doubt about that.

His suit fits him well, despite his stature. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad. You can tell he works out in some capacity. His jacket and shirt would have needed to be tailored to fit around his muscles.

The same jacket and shirt currently soaked in champagne. Your eyes widen in fear. What do you do? What do you say?

“S-sir. I am so, so sorry.” You can feel the cold, expensive liquid wet on your chest. It has turned your white blouse sheer and it does little to hide that your nipples are hardening from the sudden change in temperature.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he says and you are surprised to hear a deep southern accent.

“I-I know,” you stammer, trying to balance the tray of toppled glasses so that no more champagne spills over. “Sir, Mr. Miller, again, I really do apologize. There is a staff bathroom right down this hall. Please, let me help you.”

Joel takes in the sight of you. Your hands shake the tray as you look up at him. You wait to be yelled at, wait to feel the wrath of this perfectionist, but instead he licks his lips. His eyes lower, lingering to where your shirt is most sheer, showing every detail of your pebbled nipples. His scrutiny makes your knees wobble.

You chew on your bottom lip and Joel’s attention snaps to your mouth. He watches your lips for what feels like an eternity before he takes the tray from you. He lowers and leaves it on the floor. When he rises again you catch a whiff of his cologne. He even smells handsome.

“You can’t even manage to hold a tray,” he says. His voice is leveled but you can still feel the anger beneath it. “So how can you help me?”

You open your mouth to say something but then promptly close it. You’re not really sure, you realize. It’s not like you have a spare suit tucked away somewhere. With your hands now free you wring them nervously. This is it. He’s going to send you home. He’s going to get you fired and then the kitchen staff will have more gossip to whisper about.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Please, Mr. Miller, I really need to work the rest of this shift. I need this job. I’ll do anything to make it right. Please.”

He looks at you a long time again before something sinister flashes in his eyes. He brings a hand to your chin and swipes his thumb across your lips. The way he watches you as his finger plays with your lips sends a rush of heat between your legs.

“You’ll do anythin’?” He asks and he forces his thumb through your lips and into your mouth.

For a moment you’re surprised at his sudden intrusion. He doesn’t even know your name, yet his finger is currently rubbing against your tongue. You close your lips around him and gently suck his digit. You understand now. He’s not just a perfectionist. He’s a man that knows what he wants and how he wants it and isn’t afraid to take it.

And if it means keeping your job you’ll let him take whatever he wants.

You nod your head and Joel abruptly pulls his finger out of your mouth. He wipes his finger against the collar of your shirt.

“Well, go on then. Lead the way before you do something else stupid.”

—————

The staff bathroom isn’t spectacular. It’s a tiny room that houses a toilet and a sink. An empty mop bucket rests in the corner where someone scribbled F u C k on the wall. The room smells like cheap solid air freshener and almond hand soap.

The door hasn’t even fully closed behind Joel when he starts shrugging out of his jacket. He throws the garment on top of the bucket and you wince when you see just how soaked his clothes are.

“I should have you fired,” he says as he continues to undress, thumbing through the buttons on his shirt. “You’re not very good at your job.”

“I know.” You lean against the sink in the tight space. “I was careless. I’m sorry.”

His shirt hangs open and all that conceals his body is a thin undershirt. You grip the edge of the sink wanting to press your fingers into his chest.

His shirt slips off his shoulders and he chucks it with the jacket. “Look at you.” He touches your hip and drags his hand up your body, over your wet clothes, until he cups one of your breasts. “Your uniform is filthy. It’s not meeting the dress code.”

His fingers find the tip of your nipple and he pinches, eliciting a whimper from you. He grunts. “It’s disgusting. Take it off.”

He steps back so he can watch as you undo the buttons on your blouse. You peel your shirt off and reach behind you to pull down the zipper of your skirt. You allow your clothes to fall to the floor and you notice Joel’s cock hardening in his dress pants.

You nervously stand there in your underwear while Joel palms himself through his pants. “All of it,” he demands.

You nod before unclasping your bra and adding it to the pile on the floor. Joel is watching you intently, the large bulge in his pants pressing dangerously against his clothes. You pull down your panties and let them puddle at your feet.

You cross your arms against yourself. Joel is still mostly clothed and the contrast makes you feel shy and indecent. His eyes rake over your body, enjoying your nudity, enjoying your embarrassment. He likes that you’re uncomfortable and that realization turns you on. He has power over you and you desperately want him to take it.

Joel lowers the zipper on his pants and reaches inside and frees himself. A gasp slips past your lips when you see how incredibly large he is. Joel wraps his fingers around his cock and pumps himself. Even in his large hands his dick looks unbelievable.

“You like what you see?” He continues to pump his dick and you stare at it in awe. He laughs dryly when you don’t answer. “Get on your knees.”

You hesitate. You want to protest, to explain that whatever he has planned with that huge thing, it won’t fit. But then he steps close and his free hand tangles in your hair. He pulls you down, forcing your legs to fold under you. Your knees press into the cold tile.

He pulls on your hair so you’re looking up, past his stiff member, and at him. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. Understand?” He shakes the hand wrapped in your hair and makes you nod. “Perfect.”

Joel brings his cock to your lips. “Kiss it.” He demands, and you do as you’re told.

“Lick it.” You stick your tongue out and lick the head of his cock, tasting the salty precum already beading there. Joel inhales sharply when you lick him again, running your tongue along the length of him.

Joel tightens his grasp on your hair and the pain translates to pleasure between your legs.

“You’re gonna suck my cock now.” For the second time he pushes a part of himself past your lips and into your mouth. Almost immediately your mouth is full of him. You loosen your jaw and allow him to push further into your wet hole. When you think he can’t fit anymore he pushes even further and you choke and sputter around him.

He yanks your hair and slips out of your mouth a little. “If you don’t do this right I’ll be forced to fuck your mouth.” You look up at him with wide eyes. “Do you want me to fuck your pretty little face?”

“Nuh-uh,” you mumble against him.

“Then suck me until I come.”

You take a short breath and hollow your cheeks around his cock. You begin to bob your head, pushing and pulling his dick through your lips. You suck on him, tasting his skin as his cockhead drags across your tongue.

You start to get comfortable with the size of him, taking more of his shaft into your mouth with each stroke. You press your tongue against him as you draw back and slurp him in as you push forward. You've got a momentum going and Joel rewards you with a moan.

The sound travels through his body, into your mouth, and settles at your core. He’s in your mouth but you want him in your pussy. You want him to fuck you against the sink. You want him to tell you how useless you are at your job while he fucks you senseless.

But his hand remains tangled in your hair, binding you to this position, so you continue to suck. He moans again when his dick nudges the back of your throat. Hearing him satisfied turns you on further and you bring your hand between your legs. You swipe your fingers up your slit, gathering your arousal, and rub your clit. You hum in relief as you grind your hips against your fingers.

Joel pulls your hair again, hard, and his dick pops out your mouth. “Did I say you can touch yourself?” His free hand squeezes the sides of your face and makes your lips pucker. “This is all you’re allowed to do.” He digs his fingers into your face for emphasis.

His hand releases your face so he can return his cock back into your mouth. He gently nudges himself through your lips, pushing until he touches the back of your throat. Then, he clasps the back of your neck into a strong hold.

“Since all you seem to do is make dumb decisions I’m gonna fuck your face and teach you a lesson.”

You panic, afraid of the size and girth of him plowing into your mouth. You try to lean back but the hold on your neck and hair keeps his cock firmly in your mouth.

He pulls his hips back and stares at you as he snaps his hips forward. “Don’t fight it.” He steadily picks up his pace. “Keep that mouth wet and open for me, baby.” In. Out. In. Out. “I want you to choke on it.”

His fingers tighten in your hair as he begins to move your head to meet his thrusts. He fucks your mouth hard and fast, pushing his cock into you until it won’t go any further. You do your best to relax and loosen your jaw while he uses you but he’s just too large. Your lips are stretched wide around him as he drills into you.

Your face is a mess. Drool falls down your chin and tears start to well in your eyes. Your throat has started to burn but you don’t want him to stop. You’re enjoying the pull on your scalp and the assault in your mouth. You want him to keep using you. You want someone outside the door to hear his moans. You want to touch yourself, you want to get off with the taste of his cock in your mouth, and knowing you can’t only makes you more aroused.

The wet sound of his hard dick pushing in and out of your mouth fills the room. He’s cursing under his breath watching himself disappear behind your lips. He pumps harder when you don’t expect and you gag around him. Tears freely fall down your face as you try to gain your composure.

“That’s it. Breathe through it. It’s okay to choke on it.” His hips stutter. “Fuck. You take my cock so well. Your mouth feels so fucking good, baby. You like my big cock in your mouth?”

You hum in reply, honestly loving every moment of this. His thrusts are coming faster now and his breathing is heavy. His once perfectly coiffed hair now falls over his face while he looks down at you. His pleasure is apparent in every inch of his face. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come in your mouth. And you’re gonna swallow all of it.”

Joel’s cock continues to piston in and out of your mouth while he chases his orgasm. You can feel him growing more tense as his fingers dig into your neck. He shoves himself past your lips desperately, and then finally, his pleasure reaches the peak, and he comes.

He’s cursing as he pulls you close, shoving himself into your throat until your nose is pressed against him. His cock twitches against your tongue and his cum fills your mouth. You can barely breathe with your mouth so full and your nose closed against his body.

You love every moment of it. You love the power he has over you, the feeling of his cock jumping in your mouth in time to his gasps of air, the thickness of his cum, the sting on your scalp and the ache in your knees.

Once his breathing has slowed and his body has relaxed he loosens his hold on your head. You pull back, slipping his softening cock out of your mouth. You look up at him with your mouth open wide, your tongue cupping his cum. Joel watches you bring your lips together and swallow his release. You bring a finger to the corner of your lips and push any remaining cum into your mouth and lick your tips clean.

Joel smiles, satisfied with your performance, and extends a hand to help you up from the floor. Your knees wobble as you straighten and Joel pulls you in close, wrapping his arms around your waist to balance you. You breathe in the scent of him, his expensive cologne and his cum still coating your lips.

Joel’s hand moves from your waist, trailing across your body and down between your legs. He inhales deeply when his fingers slip into your slit and finds it soaking with your arousal.

“I ain’t gonna lie,” Joel says as he pulls a finger up and begins circling your clit. “That might’a been the best head I’ve ever gotten.”

You spread your legs a bit and allow Joel to continue rubbing your clit. You’ve been so turned on this whole time it won’t take long for you to come.

Joel leans down and whispers into your ear. “You should quit your job and become a professional cocksucker.” His finger continues circling your bud, bringing you close to orgasm. “At least you’re actually good at that.”

You grab a fistful of Joel’s undershirt as the feeling in your core builds. Just as your body begins to tense, just as you finally get to come, Joel removes his hand from between your legs, your release denied.

You whine. You actually whine and watch him as he picks up his shirt and jacket. Joel smiles as he looks at you, arousal and confusion etched into your face.

“Did you forget this was a punishment?” he asks, draping his ruined jacket over his shoulder. “Do not touch yourself. You are not allowed to come. Put your uniform back on and learn how to carry a tray.”

Joel wraps his fingers around the doorknob and begins to head back out. You need to stop him, you need him to know you’ve never felt as sexy as you did in this small bathroom.

“Wait, Mr. Miller,” you say, not even sure what your next words will be.

Joel stops and looks over your naked body once more.

“Go the rest of the night without incident,” Joel says as his eyes linger on your lips, “be perfect and I might shove my cock into your wet pussy as a reward.”

You simply nod to acknowledge what he’s said.

If he wants perfection, you think as you plan how to work the rest of the night at Joel’s standards, I will give him perfection.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #chantersboardwritessometimes

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thewulf · 1 year ago

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Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it. He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

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cupiidk1lls · 2 months ago

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✮ ° BAD IDEA, RIGHT? . .

based on my bot , ‘bad idea, right?’

WARNINGS : suggestive, tipsy!reader, tipsy!chris, needy!chris? making out, cliffhanger (yikes….)

“hello?” you start, your hand bringing your phone up to your ear, as your other hand covers the other ear, blocking out the sounds of the ongoing party in the background, as you stumble into a cubicle, in your deathly heels.

“hey. wanna chill ‘ere, for the night?” an all too familiar voice replies back, in a slight monotone voice, all nonchalant-like. “m’free.. n’.. y’know, alone.” the man says, sounding quite bored, yet slightly needy, as he babbles on too you. though, despite his needy demeanour, you can hear the desire he’s trying ever so desperately to conceal, the smirk on his face being heard so easily by you…

you haven’t heard from chris in a couple of months. not one text, not one phone call. nothing. it was like he never existed, like you two never existed, the relationship. but you weren’t shocked, at the end of the day, it was chris. aka, the biggest womaniser ever to even set foot on earth. why would specifically you be so special to keep under his arm?

you’re out in a bar, all fucked up, with your girls. downing shot after shot, trying to find answers at the bottom of a bottle. nothing is fucking working. and, from the sounds of things, it sounds like he’s doing the same exact thing, finding comfort in a bottle of alcohol and a good, rowdy party rather than taking good care of himself and spending some time alone. he can’t get over you, and he hates it. it scares him, he’s never been so utterly attached to a woman before, so in love that he can’t get over them.

so in love that he’s almost moaning your name, instead of the different girls name he has in his bed.

out with all your girlfriends… you know you shouldn’t, you know they’ve been scolding you for the past two hours about potentially running back to him. because they know you, and they know you well enough to know that you’ll be on your knees for him with your hair in a makeshift ponytail in the space of five seconds. they know you very, very well.

but, hey ho. what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

❛ seein’ him tonight.. it’s a bad idea, right? ❜

you definitely should not be driving, considering the tipsy state that you are currently in right now. but you couldn’t care less about your safety. your safety is the least of your worries. the one thing that’s on your mind is him. him, him, him. luckily, you managed to sneak away from the party, your phone pinging with his messages, the reminders of his new address that he just sent you, the occasional typos.

eventually, you pull up in his driveway, your car coming to an abrupt stop as you take your hand off the steering wheel and lean down to grab your shiny handbag from under the seat. the calm, summer breeze of the night hits your face as you step out of the car, wafting your hair away from your face with your free hand as you slam the car shut with the other, the clanging of the chains from the bag hitting the door.

you run your hands down your body swiftly, getting rid of the dress creases as you keep your eyes on the ground, watching your heels as you carefully walk up his driveway, up the steps.

you look up, only to be met with the sight of chris. he stands by the doorway, a smirk on his face with his hands thrusted into his low slacks, his chest being slightly revealed due to the top two buttons on his dress shirt being unbuttoned. his tongue rolls across his front teeth, as he pushes himself off the door casing. a low chuckle escapes his lips as he looks at your tipsy state, it being a sound of pure desire as he looks at the way your little dress clings to your thighs, the only source of light being shined on you being the dim, warm lights from his porch.

you lick your lips, almost automatically making him lick his own as you step closer to him, your arms by your side as you tilt your head back a little, in order to keep eye contact with him. you stop infront of him, keeping direct eye contact at all times, a smirk of mischief on your face.

his pants get tighter almost immediately, imagining what he’s gonna do to you when he gets you in his bed, where you belong, where you always belong. not them stupid, bimbo girls he’s had a few nights in a row for the past couple of weeks. you should take up that left side in his bed. a shaky sigh escapes him as he adjusts himself discreetly, tucking himself under his thigh as he mindlessly bites his bottom lip, trying to keep himself together and.. stable.

you chuckle softly, your hand reaching out swiftly. you grab his tie, and walk inside the house. you pull him along, then yank him towards you, your back colliding with the door as you slam it shut, his lips connecting with yours immediately, moving against your own in a dance of desperation. he hums against your lips, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter, as his hand slides to the side of your neck, subtly squeezing. this is what you missed, this is what he missed too. this is what he craved, and this is what you craved too.

“mnff.. fucking god..” he groans quietly into your mouth, his hands sliding down to your hips and tugging them onto his own, a shaky sigh escaping his lips again. “missed you.. so, so much.. y’don’t even know..” he grips your mini dress, holding onto it with a death grip with every hint of dominance and power he can, his tongue forcing itself into your mouth, swirling and rolling against your own, his saliva exchanging with yours. “ungh..” he grunts, his jaw slacking open abit, unable to catch up with your lips. he’d missed how warm your tongue was.

you whimper, your back arching off the cold door, your body shivering, your thighs weakening in result to his kisses and his dominant, needy demeanour. “missed you too.. ngh.. missed you so much..” your lips slide off his own with a gasp, as he chuckles, his mouth trailing down your neck as his hands make their way down to your ass, his lips leaving trail after trail of saliva down your throat, kissing sloppily. “missed me soooo much, huh? care to prove that, ma?”

❛ … fuck it, it’s fine! ❜

𝜗𝜚 kami’scupids! : @colorthecosmos444 @pr3ttyf4wn @nickgurl4life @loveparqdise @marrykisskilled @sturniolosiphone @slut4chris888 @tyummyz @caliluvsux @meowmeowmsow @sweetrelieef

# 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧. ❤︎︎

. • ° 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 . . 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . . ・。.

✦ KISS divider : @adornedwithlight ..

✦ SILVER divider : @animatedglittergraphics-n-more ..

yurrrrrrrrrrrr not good at writing smut um this is my first time………..

hope u enjoyed! sorry for the cliffhanger chat.

#₊ 𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ cupiidk1llsbotz.#𓉸ྀི kami’stumblrrr .˳˳.⋅ॱ #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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keriarentikai · 2 months ago

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A low/no-angst WangXian podfic rec list for hard times and cozy days

This list is far from complete and incorporates suggestions from the MDZS podfic discord server as well as comments on the last iteration of this post. But in the end, this is only my opinion of what’s cozy and low-angst, so please make sure to read the tags yourself before embarking if you’re feeling sensitive!

(list is alphabetical by title)

a garden in your ribcage by puddingcatbeans, G, podfic by GinevraFangirl (1 hour 48 min) – there’s just something about this one, a modern-with-magic AU focusing on plant magic, that gets me and feels so soft.

Accidents Will Happen by vesna, E, podfic by AuntieIroh (6 hours 26 min) – soft, post-canon mpreg. A little angst and illness, but mostly very sweet.

and having a marvelous time by varnes, M, podfic by Spinifex (13 hours 43 min) – this is a very sweet Sound of Music AU and Spinifex’s voices just KILL me.

Bodega Love by cicer, T, podfics by a big group in 2020 possibly for an event? (1 hour 16 min) and by Lotus Pier Lakeside team for VT Mystery Box 2023 (1 hour 37 min) – another very funny Modern AU with insane podfic energy

grow by cafecliche, T, podfic by jellyfishfire (1 hour 32 min) – post-canon, wwx is de-aged. Honestly I don’t remember this super well but it was recced by lightningshowl and I remember liking it. I’ll relisten and report back soon!

i know who i want to take me home by ScarlettStorm, E, podfic by rionaa (1 hour 45 min ish) – wwx finds a very drunk lwj in his bar and has to take care of him until his brother comes to get him (and then later they get together). I just love the fic and rionaa + Thali’s reading is so sweet.

in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410), T, podfic by raitala (5+ hours). Lwj can tell when people are lying. It’s soft and lyrical and very soothing imho.

it is wednesday, my dudes by ritualist, M, podfic by jellyfishfire (26 min) – wwx is a health and safety inspector and needs to check out the strip club where lwj works. This podfic makes me laugh every single time.

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (a.k.a. The Asshole Dog fic), E, podfic by rionaa (between 10-15 hours, I didn’t look up the exact number, sorry!) - not entirely angst-free but this podfic is my happy place. Modern AU, lwj and wwx have a chance meeting and get to know each other and fall in love, of course.

Lost Boys by raitala, E, podfic by KeriArentikai (13 hours 41 minutes) – Modern AU, wwx and a-yuan are reunited with lwj after a long time and move in with him. Not angst-free, entirely, but it’s very soft and absolutely what I listened to when I was sick and needed a blanket in a podfic.

lovely thorns and singing crows by isabilightwood, E, podfics by exmanhater (3 hours 30 min) and semperfiona (4 hours 10 min) – super fun Addams-family vibes modern AU. Maybe not traditional comfort reading, but soft and fun.

Magical Marriage Ribbons by starandrea, Not Rated (but a bit of sex), podfic by dangercupcake (19.5 hours so far) – alt-canon, wangxian get together as teens, soft vignette style. It’s not an angst-free fic but it’s definitely a comfort listen for me.

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association by Ariaste, E, podfics by rionaa et al. (some length!) and GinevraFangirl et al. (also some length!) - another funny, manic modern AU to get your mind off of things.

My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun by nonplussed, T, podfic by neireid (3.5-4 hours) - I can’t sum it up better than the author: “AKA the fic where WWX crossdresses his way into winning his life, love, and liberty”.

plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser, E, podfics by exmanhater (4 hours 26 min) and knight_tracer (4 hours 52 min) – I’ll admit I don’t remember this one too well, but it was recced by flamingwell, LadyEn and addictedtostoriesandcrochet, so it’s clearly a winner. Another one to add more comments to once I’ve relistened!

save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae, E, podfic by exmanhater (3 hours 15 min) – funny modern-with-magic, wwx-is-a-gremlin AU. Maybe not exactly what I’d consider a comfort listen, but definitely a good, light distraction listen.

Seasons of Love by sweetlittlevampire, T, podfic by kisahawklin (some amount of time!) - very soft bunny-based modern AU

shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410), M, podfic by KeriArentikai (8 hours 10 minutes) – wwx raised by the Nie, told in a vignette style for the most part. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Somewhere I Belong by athena_crikey, E, podfic by zaffre (2 hours 6 minutes). Pilot!wwx takes scientist!lwj into the north of the Prairies and they hit it off.

stray cat strut by ScarlettStorm, E, podfic by KeriArentikai (6 hours 17 min). Canon-era, wwx gets trapped as a cat! And then a catboy! Very cute, funny, low-stakes fic.

The Peanut Butter Jar AU by ScarlettStorm, E, podfic of fic 1 by Khashana (3 hours 22 min), fic 2 by sunkitten_shash (4 hours 37 min) – fox-shifter WWX gets in a bit of trouble and is saved by animal-rescue worker LWJ. Super funny and quite light.

The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale, T, podfic by kealdrakemna (8 hours 16 min) – time-travel fix-it that just makes everything a bit better.

this moonlit heart is home by Selenay, M, podfic by exmanhater (55 min) – cat!wwx! Very cute

through a window softly by impossibletruths, T, podfic by Rhea314 (1 hour 48 min) – yet another one I need to relisten to, but that I remember liking and that was recced by addictedtostoriesandcrochet.

without your new eyes by anaphoricae, E, podfic by LadyEn (7 hours 29 min) – soft didn’t-know-they-were-dating fic

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint, E, podfic by GinevraFangirl (2 hours 36 min) – modern with magic; wwx is Lan Sizhui’s flying instructor and is into his hot dad.

I will hopefully continue to update this as appropriate fics come to my attention. Everyone has different tastes as to what constitutes a soft comfort listen, but I'm extremely happy to hear suggestions of what should be added.

#podfic #rec list #podfic rec list #wangxian

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autism-corner · 7 days ago

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they call me mr boots in bed.

#new boots new boots new boots #just the same random ones from shoestore. theyre the exact same as the ones i had before but those broke </3 #aka they were ripping off their soles and i was already walking direcly on the framee =w=bbb #BUT NEW BOOTS #i looove boots.#but yeagh im breaking them in somewhat bc. ow. so we've got boots in bed =w=bbbb #the left shoe is the problem rn bc my left foot is just a tad bit bigger........#size 40 if you care.... ladies......#yay boots =w=bbb #sillyposting #waugh work was rough actuallyy #after our 1hour break bc the payment broke it was basically running for 4 hours.#and. i fucking fell so badly. with ofc my whole tray of (dirty but empty) coffeecups etc #BUT.... cool bruise on my knee B) yall WISH you were me but also oww #whateberrrr its fineee at least i didnt get cut =w=bb #yayyay im so glad to be home thoo (ive been since 2 but =3=bb)#:3

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fuck-customers · 5 months ago

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I'm so devastated

I LOVED this job when I first started 4 years ago. It was a bit tedious work but the culture of the company more than made up for it

I really felt like they cared. They looked out for us during the pandemic, sending care packages and organizing online social events that were actually fun.

The benefits were amazing, I was even able to get gender-affirming care through them, I came out as non-binary and it was welcomed!

It was truly a wonderful place to work.

And then the founder left. Retired to focus on his side business. And I felt it then, I knew things were going to go badly.

Sure enough, slowly but surely, things started to change.

They forced everyone into a hybrid model, even though before it was a choice to WFH. They did it in the name of culture and making meetings easier, but half my team is across the country. Most days I'm alone and I talk to nobody for all 8 hours.

They split my department in half, outsourcing 80% of the work to another company, who don't know how to handle the issues properly and it shows. Our customer satisfaction dropped SIGNIFICANTLY and I'm spending most of my day fixing mistakes the other company made.

Then they started backing these projects that everyone knew wasn't going to work, and sure enough, they didn't, and they laid off 20 people in the name of "being streamlined and nimble" (their exact words).

My husband (who worked at the same company in a different department) got fired because of an executive throwing a tantrum. It was either him or his whole team and he took the blame so they wouldn't all lose their jobs.

And because they swapped to a merit based raise increase (aka constantly be doing more work year over year) I haven't gotten a raise in 3 years and I barely get enough to cover our bills alone BARELY but my husband's unemployment is about to run out cause the gaming industry SUCKS and finding a job is really hard, and I'm not sure how we're going to get food.

I've been working every overtime and holiday shift they'll approve, but I'm also trying to lose weight so I can qualify for a necessary surgery, and I'm just so fucking exhausted all the damn time.

I hate this place. And it's so much worse because I used to love it. It used to be amazing. I used to think I would be there for a long time, at least until I got my own business up.

They crushed that dream too. Had to drain everything I'd saved up for it.

I hate them so much

Posted by admin Rodney

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the-kr8tor · 2 years ago

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Silk & Cologne

Hobie Brown x Silk!Reader Relationship Headcanons.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Silk! gn Reader/ Spider-Punk x Silk! gn Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, TW needles, TW injuries, canon typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, Kinda soulmate AU.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

You meet Hobie while you're running away from his team of spider-people.

You are an anomaly who accidentally entered a different dimension from yours, but you didn't know that at the moment. Your biggest worry right now are the various spider-people going after you for some reason.

Running and swinging from unfamiliar rooftops, you feel an invisible rope tug at you, this is probably your silk sense telling you where to go, you thought, so you follow it on instinct.

Unbeknownst to you, Hobie Brown aka Spider-Punk feels the exact same invisible rope pull him towards somewhere. He just got out of the inter-dimensional portal when he felt an unfamiliar feeling.

Also thinking it's his spidey senses keeping him on his toes, he follows it. He ignores all the calls from his comms to follow his instincts.

You both swing towards the mysterious pull, until you both almost collide in the air with each other.

You and Hobie both lean away last minute from each other to prevent the collision.

Your eyes lock with his for the first time.

You both feel the invisible rope stop pulling, it's replaced by longing and an unidentified urge.

As you both swing in the air you get a good look at each other. Time seems to be in slow motion as you both swing in a circle just watching each other.

The others catch up to the both of you, stopping at a nearby rooftop, watching you both curiously.

"What the hell am I watching?" Gwen Stacy asks as she watches you circle each other.

"Looks like some sort of mating dance" Peter B. Scratches his neck.

"Oh God, they're a silk variant, Lyla, Get Miguel and tell him to bring the silk blockers, this could get ugly" Jess says in her comms.

"Ohh, Dramaa. Miguel's on his way" Lyla reports.

It seemed to be hours just circling each other, waiting for either one of you to make a move.

Suddenly you both get tackled at the same time, landing on a dirty rooftop, you bite and scratch at the assailant.

You see from your peripheral that he's getting manhandled by someone in a blue suit, you watch as he quickly injects something in him, that makes your stranger go limp. The same invisible pull you felt dulls a little bit.

You turn back to the woman holding you down, your eyes widen before she plunges the needle with the same color in your neck.

Darkness wraps you immediately. The last thing you see is the sunlight bouncing off the metal on his suit.

You wake up from the noise of different voices arguing.

You're in a futuristic prison of some sort, you listen to the conversation for some answers, the magnetic pull seems to get stronger every second.

"Hobie you didn't see how they reacted, they're like feral or something!" Gwen pleads.

"Yeah, because you bloody tackled them!" Hobie uncharacteristically screams at Gwen.

"Let them go now" He demands Miguel.

"Don't you see Hobie, you're already captivated, it's because you were both bitten by the same radioactive spider, it created an irresistible attraction between you two, it will overwhelm you once the blockers I injected in both of you wears off" Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose "You two are linked together. You need to take this pheromone blocker to see reason"

You see him hold a blue pill.

"Take it before you become a danger to yourself and them" Miguel points at you.

They all look towards you, now awake, your pupils blown up like a balloon, with all the eyes on you, your only attention is on the leather clad form.

Hobie looks at you then to the pill, every second he wastes not taking the medication, he feels the pull towards you get stronger, it's almost painful.

Listening to Gwen, he grabs the pill quickly downing it.

He sighs as the pressure subsides.

Hobie feels like himself again.

You sigh as you feel it too, the pain without him next to you dulls. It's like an itch you can't scratch.

Hobie crouches next to you.

You lock eyes, the attraction still there, but you both don't have the animalistic need to be with each other.

"They need to take it too, so the medicine can take full effect" Miguel gives Hobie an identical pill.

"Where am I? Who are you?" You meekly speak for the first time.

"My name's Hobie Brown, apparently we were bitten by the same spider, we're linked with each other," Hobie looks towards Miguel "open it, they won't do anything"

"How'd you know?" Miguel raises his brow.

"I just know"

Miguel deactivates the orange glow around you.

You stand up to your full height, Hobie mirrors your movement. He hands you the pill, your hands brush against each other, electricity cackles around Hobie's hand.

You swallow it down dryly. Feeling the pressure completely alleviate, you finally feel normal.

Hobie feels the same, he still feels connected to you, somewhat. Like a lingering aftertaste. But there's no feeling of suddenly jumping your bones in front of everyone.

"Okay, now where the hell am I?" You push past Hobie, he gets surprised with your sudden change of tone.

Miguel gives you the spidey orientation added with some context on silk variants.

Learning that you were bitten by the same spider feels kinda weird. Like how Lyla put it simply "it's like your soul mates, kindred spirits" then she sighs while holographic hearts float above her head.

Then finding out what you both felt hours ago, was actually an animalistic urge to mate? That is the weirdest thing ever.

After hearing the word mate leave Miguel's mouth, you take a step further away from Hobie, you just met the man and you were ready to rip off each other's clothes the second you saw each other?

Miguel, the boss of the entire spider society, you just learned, offered you a place in their elite group. As long as you and Hobie keep taking the medication of course.

You accept the offer. A few hours ago, you thought you were the only person with spider powers, being locked in a bunker alone for almost ten years makes you lonely. Now that there's an entire team who understands you and a man who's basically your soulmate you cannot say no.

You don't want to be lonely ever again.

You've been part of the spider society for a few weeks now, becoming friends with the other spider people.

You were afraid of coming out of your assigned room for the first few days just in case there's another spider-person out there who was bitten by the same radioactive spider. You definitely don't want to ever feel that way again.

Miguel tasked you to train so you could hone your skills.

In your surprise you see Hobie in the training room, honestly you were avoiding him, with how weird you two first met, who wouldn't?

"O'hara, really?" You glare at Miguel.

Weirdly enough, you and Miguel have become fast friends, probably because he keeps you closely monitored in case your 'charms' go haywire again.

You call it your 'charms' since you didn't like that everyone called it pheromones, it gave you the ick.

"Being in close proximity to each other helps in training you in keeping your urges in check" Miguel informed you both, "you've taken both your meds, right?"

"Yes bossman, otherwise I would be all over them right now" Hobie teases you both.

You almost broke your own neck with how fast you turned to look at Hobie.

Miguel sighs "Whatever just keep it PG" He leaves, the doors hiss closed once he stepped outside.

"I like your suit" Hobie breaks the ice as he roams his eyes over your form.

"Thanks, I made it from my own webbing" you lift your arms to show it off.

"That's -"

"Please don't say hot"

"I was gonna say punk rock, but that works too"

Ignoring his last comment, you walk towards the console to start up the training simulation.

"You've been avoiding me" he says matter-of-fact.

"Hmm, I wonder why" you play with the console's settings, continuing in ignoring him.

Suddenly you feel strong arms caging you in, you turn around, and find yourself trapped by Hobie, your back gets blocked by the console so you don't have anywhere else to go.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You can feel his warmth with how close he is. You look up at him through your eyelashes.

"It bothers you then? Our connection" Hobie tilts his head in question.

"No it doesn't, it's just weird and awkward. I've already wasted ten years of my life locked up, I don't want a spider defining the rest of it, do you?" Despite your brain telling you to just swing away, you fight it off and speak your mind.

Hobie smirks, oh how he likes that fire, he intends to feed it, let it spread, he would let it burn him as long as he gets to see the real you without the pheromone fog clouding his thoughts.

"No I don't, but we've both been away from each other for a while, and yet you still feel it don't you? The want to be near each other, the need to protect each other" Hobie rambles on, "I think it's our shared spider senses telling us something, it would be a shame to not explore it"

"What a shame, then" taunting him, you lean up closer, your breaths mixing with each other.

Suddenly Miguel's booming voice surrounds the large training grounds "LEAVE ROOM FOR THE HOLY SPIRIT!"

You both pull away snickering at Miguel's comment.

No matter how hard you try to ignore what Hobie said you can't, because he's right, even though you take the medication, you still feel him. Every time he goes back to Nueva York, for some reason you feel his presence even though you didn't see him around the building; same goes for when he leaves, you feel some sort of emptiness inside you.

You ask Miguel whether his medication isn't completely working.

"It's not the medication's fault, there'll always be that lingering feeling. You're connected to each other, whether you like it or not" Miguel has his back turned to you, "best to just ignore it"

You huff at his comment, dissatisfied with his answer.

You try to ignore him, you do but it's basically impossible since you're friends with his friends and you both work at the same place. You keep seeing him EVERYWHERE.

Hobie does it on purpose though, whenever another spidey gets partnered up with you on a mission, he convinces them to swap with him.

"You, again?!" You scoff. "Lyla said I would be partnered up with Noir this time"

"He had something come up," Hobie shrugs. "Right Lyla?"

Lyla appears suddenly "yep, some goons to punch and what not"

"Ugh!" You swing away.

Hobie winks at Lyla as she shapes a heart with her hand.

Whenever you come to the mess hall with a long line of hungry spider-people, Hobie's already sitting down with an extra tray of food next to him. He nonchalantly looks at you with a smug smile on his lips.

You would ignore his invitation but he's always with backup, he would be with Gwen or Pavitr, whom you have grown fond of over the last few months. So you reluctantly swing towards them.

It also doesn't help that he's your assigned trainer, all the lingering looks and touches when he's correcting your form, wakes up the butterflies in your stomach.

You spend so much time with him, it's impossible to ignore the feeling.

Hobie loves leaving you cd's of movies and music you missed from the last decade in your dimension. He drops it on your doorstep every chance he's got.

One time you got hurt while on a mission without Hobie, you tried to hide the deep gash on your shoulder from your team, but of course you stubbornly deny it.

Entering the inter-dimensional portal, you feel the stabbing pain on your shoulder. Ignoring the pleas from your team, you give them a pained smile, telling them that your enhanced healing will fix it.

When you reach the hallway where your room resides, you see Hobie leaning on your door, you feel the magnetic pull towards him. With no choice but to confront him, despite the pain, you saunter towards your door with your head held up high.

"I don't remember ordering a doormat" You tease him, You felt a chill run through your body from the pain and blood loss.

"I felt that y'know, the cold" He stares at you seriously. "I felt the exact moment you got injured, I never want to feel that ever again" he straightens up, anticipating what comes next.

"Hobie I'm - " You feel nauseous, you fall towards him, he catches you in one swift motion.

"Stop being so bloody stubborn. Let me help you please" He softly says right next to your head.

You shift your head to look at him directly, memorizing every detail of his face, counting every single one of his piercings.

He shakes you out of your stupor, "Oi, stay awake for me, yeah?"

You swallow down the pain, "Okay, Hobie, you can help me"

Without missing a beat he carries you towards the med bay, expertly weaving through spider-people.

The entire time you were in the med bay, he was there with you, with every stitch to close your wound, he was there. You instinctively reached for his hand to hold on to.

When you finally woke up, he was sitting on a chair next to your bed, asleep. You take note of his hand still holding yours. You watch him, his chest moving up and down, taking note of every single detail of his suit, every crease of his boots; the different pins he has on his vest. You count every callus he has on his fingers.

When Miguel finally approves your proposal to finally go back to your own dimension. Now that you're both stable enough to be around each other; your stomach flips when you remember it's also Hobie's dimension.

With your reintegration back to society, you ask Jess, (the only adult you trust) to help you in finding a place to live in. And possibly a Job, to feel like a normal human again.

Thanks to Jess your transition back to your own dimension was pretty smooth. You still feel the pull here and there, but now you've gotten used to it. So used to the feeling and his presence, you didn't notice him perched on your windowsill.

"Nice place you got here" Hobie whistles.

"Christ!"

"Just me, lovey" he takes off his mask and enters your abode. "D'you need a doormat?" Hobie holds a brown rectangle in his hand.

"What?" You take it from hobie with a raised brow, "Come back with a warrant" laughing once you read it out loud.

"Glad you liked it, nicked it from another flat" Hobie smiles hearing your laugh, he goes towards your fridge to rummage through it.

"Wait, what! Please don't tell me it's from a neighbor" You follow him, opening the freezer, showing him different kinds of soda he can choose from.

" 'Course not, got it from another building in a nicer neighborhood" he opens a can of orange soda.

"So you basically swung around the city, holding this" you hold up the doormat. You must like me a lot. You wanted to add but you bite your tongue.

"Yeah, what of it?" He rummages through your cupboards. "You got any food in this dump?"

You roll your eyes, knowing his schedule you hand him a packet of biscuits for his patrol. You wish he could stay though.

Whenever you're both free from your responsibilities and obligations, Hobie mysteriously appears in your flat, holding a dvd of another movie you missed and a large bag of popcorn, three feet tall, how and where in the world did he even get that?

Sometimes though you're the instigator, instead of movies and a comically large popcorn, you bring him to different places around the city. Museums, a walk in the park, cafés, and concerts of bands that Hobie likes (that you like too but you don't specifically tell Hobie that)

When you're swinging together on patrol, you point at places that have changed since you were in your bunker. Telling him stories about your experiences in some places.

Whenever you feel hungry, sad or in pain, Hobie feels it too. He's there waiting for you and you do the same thing for him. You take care of each other.

Once you two got bored in your flat and decided to make a conspiracy/theory board on how and when you two got bit by the same spider. Both of you were so invested in it, you didn't sleep till five am.

You woke up from the soft snores and the strong arms around you. You force one eye open, the first thing you saw was the large board you two made, riddled with pins, and pictures of places you've both been to all connected with red strings tied around the pins.

You hear him snort in his sleep, you smile softly. Cuddling further onto his chest. He hugs you tighter, half lidded eyes looking down on you.

"First I was a doormat, now a pillow" He says in his gravelly voice from just waking up.

"Go back to sleep or you'll be a punching bag next"

You were in Nueva York, just hanging around with Gwen, when suddenly you felt a painful pang in your chest. You hold on to a nearby wall to steady yourself.

"You okay?" Gwen asks.

"I think -" another stabbing pain but in your skull this time. Your eyes widen in realization.

You look up at Gwen "Hobie" you gasp, swinging towards Miguel's command center. Gwen following your move.

You didn't waste a second once you landed in his area. "Where's Hobie?!" You scream in your urgency for him to answer you quickly. Miguel's up on his platform, his back turned.

"They didn't ask for backup, stand down, Silk" he watches his numerous monitors.

"I don't give a shit, O'hara! Tell me which dimension!" You demand.

Miguel finally turns to you, he looks down on you menacingly "I said stand down"

You feel the pull again, a lot stronger this time, it's a primal need to protect him.

Gwen, noticing the tension in the air, decides to simmer it down. "It's okay Miguel, we uh, understand we'll wait for them to call for backup" she stares at you to wordlessly say: play along.

"Fine" you say, faking a smile.

Miguel grunts and finally turns around back to his monitors.

Gwen subtly knocks your shoulder with hers.

Lyla appears on a nearby table, hiding behind a console, she beckons you over.

You crouch in front of her, she puts her index finger on her lips, she summons a board out of thin air, written on it is the dimension where Hobie is.

You mouth a thank you to Lyla. She makes a heart with her hands.

Wasting no time, you run away from Miguel, finding a spot to open a portal, Gwen and you swing towards it quickly.

Once transported, smoke and chaos greet you. Your eyes roam around the area where various spider people swing around the giant mech of an octopus, clambering up the buildings.

You panic, not seeing the familiar glint of his spikes.

"Gwen go help the others, be careful" you instruct her.

"Go find him" She nods.

Without being able to see him, you panic, so you use the invisible web that ties you both together. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on finding the other end of the web. You try to remember his smell to help you in locating him.

Reaching the end of the rope you finally feel him, you can hear him breathing out slow breaths, you feel every cut and bruise on his body. A tear slides down your cheeks, but you don't have time, so you swing towards him.

Dodging mechanical octopus arms, you ignore Miguel's orders ringing from your armband.

You finally reach him inside an abandoned restaurant. He's sitting down on the floor, back against the cashier counter, his head down low, chin on his chest.

He looks up at you the moment he feels your presence.

"You come 'ere often?" He jokes despite the pain.

"Hobie Brown, you're an idiot" you walk towards him.

"Yeah, but you're the one who came here, so who's the bigger idiot?" He coughs out the last part of his sentence.

You carefully grab his chin to assess the damage. His mask torn from the side, his brilliant brown eyes now dull, you get a glimpse of a dark red gash on his chest.

"Let's get you out of here, okay?" You hold his face, keeping him awake with your touch.

"Have I ever told you that You're the most gorgeous person I've ever seen?" He managed to get out.

"No, but you show it often," you smile. "Will you let me help you?"

He gives you a blood soaked smile, "Yeah, you can help me, love"

You both feel the tug and pull of the web, straining against itself, now taut, it finally breaks.

You kiss him on his bloodstained lips, ignoring the taste of iron. He kisses you most fervently.

You feel like a dam just broke in you, overflowing your senses with just Hobie flooding every fiber of your being.

Hobie feels rejuvenated, like he can get back out again and fight the giant octopus by himself.

You both pull away for air. Gasping and staring in each other's blown out eyes. Hobie leans forward and kisses you again, as if he hadn't seen you in years.

"We need to take out doc oc" Hobie whispers against your lips.

As if on cue, the octopus mech falls down on the ground with a loud crash, followed by the cheers of the spider-people.

"Guess they didn't need us" you chuckle.

You hold him up by his arms, slinging one on your shoulder, you help him up.

The sunlight greets you both as you step out of the building.

You hear Gwen yell out your names. She drops down gracefully.

"You're both Okay!" She bounces on her feet in happinesses.

"It takes more than that to kill me, Gweny" Hobie holds on to you tighter.

Gwen opens a portal back to Nueva York. You all step in.

You sigh in relief when the three of you finally reach the med bay. You get Hobie admitted, you hold his hand the entire time he gets treated. Thank goodness for 2099 medicine.

He finally falls asleep, still holding your hand. Miguel enters the room, one angry look from you, he grunts as if to say 'another time then' before leaving you both.

When he woke up you made sure that the first thing he sees is your face.

"Hey, trouble" his gravelly voice making you smile in relief.

"You're okay?" Tears threaten to spill over your eyes.

"Come 'ere," Hobie brings out his arm so you don't crush it as you lay down next to him. He moves his head towards you for a kiss, you close your eyes, anticipation flooding your senses.

His kiss reminds you that you'll never be truly alone in this world.

A/n: that awkward moment when you realise that you almost accidentally wrote an a/b/o fic lmao I had so much fun writing this! Couldn't even sleep without finishing it up. Is this still technically a headcanon when it's this long lol. Hope you liked it! As always comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*image above is from pinterest*

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sequinsmile-x · 3 days ago

Text

Growing Pains

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother.

Almost.

AKA - a story about Aaron, Emily, and their teenage daughter who is determined to push boundaries.

Part 2/2

Part 1 can be found here

-x-

Hi besties,

I'm so so pleased you enjoyed part one of this!! It really means the world to me.

I hope you enjoy this part too, and I'm excited to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.7K

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Damn it,” Emily says as she hangs up, marching back to the master bedroom with Aaron on her heels, only just remembering to avoid the squeaky floorboard outside Eleanor’s room, “She’s at the party,” she says, even though she doesn’t need to say it, well aware that Aaron would have figured it out by now, “I need to go get her.”

She’s flustered. She hates that she is, but the news that her daughter had snuck out and the realisation that she was clearly drunk when they’d spoken on the phone, had left her feeling out of sorts, her usual grasp on her emotions and her ability to control them nowhere to be found. She curses herself for sleeping in only an old t-shirt of Aaron’s, one that was almost threadbare in places and stretched out from when she’d worn it during her pregnancies, the bottom of the Harvard logo warped from where she’d carried high with the twins, and she pulls open the door of the closet.

“I need some fucking pants,” she says, mostly to herself, even though her husband is right behind her, “Where the hell are all my pants?”

“Sweetheart-”

“Aaron, I don’t…” she drifts off as she turns to look at him, her tone simmering down when she sees he’s holding out a pair of her sweatpants, his lips pressed together in a grim frown, “Thanks,” she says, taking them from him and stepping into them, “Sorry…I’m just…”

“I know,” he says, putting his hands on her waist when she almost loses her footing, her coordination also lost to the late hour and the panic that Lucy was anywhere other than her warm, safe, bed, “Want me to come with you?”

She smiles at the familiar tone in his voice, the edge of protectiveness he’d never been able to retire alongside the job he’d given up years ago. She leans in and kisses him, her lips catching the corner of his lips before she steps past him, on the hunt for some shoes now she has pants.

“I’ve worked in law enforcement for almost 30 years, honey,” she says, not needing to look back over her shoulder to know he’s following her downstairs, “I think I can handle a bunch of drunk teenagers.” She quips, and he hums, clearly still unsure, his own anxiety for Lucy’s wellbeing written all over his face, the depth of it slipping into the lines and wrinkles that somehow only made him more handsome, “Plus, you need to stay here with Nora and Sammy, okay?”

He nods, swallowing thickly as he watches her pull on her sneakers, “You’ll let me know when you’ve got her?”

She nods, “Of course,” she turns to leave, her hand reaching out for the door handle, but Aaron stops her, grasping her forearm, “Honey, I need to-”

“I know, just one second,” he says, squeezing her arm before he turns and jogs towards the kitchen. She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, checking her watch and wondering how it had only been a few minutes since Lucy had called her, and she hears the ice and water dispensers kick into action, followed by a cabinet quickly opening and closing. He comes back into view, Lucy’s Stanley cup in one hand and a plastic bowl in the other, the bowl that had long been designated as the family sick bowl, and he holds them out to her, “In case she needs them.”

“I love you,” she kisses his cheek as she takes them from him, and he reaches past her to open the door, “You’re a good dad.”

He smiles, “You’re a good mom.”

She hums, not sure she believes it at this exact moment, but she nods, “I’ll call when I’m on the way home.”

The drive to Lucy’s friend's house has never felt longer. Emily grasps the steering wheel tightly as she thinks of the days when she’d drive the girls here after school, or when she’d bring Lucy for a sleepover. It was simpler then. Lucy acted like Emily had hung the stars themselves, always keen to be exactly wherever she was, her love for her mother so intense she could barely handle being separated from her when Emily was in the hospital having the twins. She felt bad for missing it, and wondered if it made her a bad mother for yearning for the days when her little girl was still her little girl.

She can hear the music a street away. It makes her grit her teeth, irritation licking at her insides aimed at kids who thought they knew better. When she pulls up, she barely remembers to put the car in park before she gets out, she climbs out of the car and walks into the house, a purpose in her step as she walks through the crowd of drunken teenagers.

“Has anyone seen Lucy Hotchner?” She asks, and she sees some kids she recognises nod towards the bathroom, their attempts at whispering, ‘Isn’t Lucy’s mom a cop’ louder than they thought they were. She walks to the bathroom and knocks on the door before she pushes it open, a mix of relief and concern washing over her, the taste of it bitter on her tongue as she sees Lucy sitting on the ground next to the toilet, her eyes closed as she groans, “Lucy.”

Lucy’s eyes open, “Mom?”

She kneels on the floor next to her and cups her cheek, “Where are your friends?” She asks, and Lucy shrugs, and the list of parents Emily plans on calling in the morning gets longer, “Okay, baby, let's get you home.”

She gets her out to the car and clicks her seatbelt into place before she rests the bowl on her lap, “Oh god, the sick bowl?” Lucy grimaces, shaking her head, her words slurring into one, “I’m fine-”

“Just keep it there, okay?” She says, “Just in case. There’s water for you too. Drink it slowly.”

The drive home is mostly silent, only broken up by Lucy’s groans as they turn corners or the car comes to a stop. It’s only as they turn into their street that Lucy pipes up.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Emily hums, “Yes, sweetie. You are.”

Lucy groans, “Please don’t yell at me-”

“Let’s just…leave it until the morning, okay?” Emily replies, smiling tightly at her as she pulls the car onto their driveway. She sees the curtains twitch before the front door opens, and Aaron steps out onto the porch, “Let’s just worry about getting you into bed for now.”

Lucy nods, blinking a few times when her vision blurs, and she looks over at the house, groaning when she sees Aaron, “You told Dad?”

“Your dad and I sleep in the same bed, honey,” she says, unclipping her seatbelt for her, “Your call woke him up too.”

Lucy blows out a breath, “He’ll be mad-”

“We’re both mad, Lucy,” Emily says, “You put yourself in danger…” She clears her throat and shakes her head at herself, “But like I said, it can wait until the morning.”

By some miracle, they get Lucy upstairs without waking up either of the twins. She falls asleep the moment Emily tucks her into bed, her Stanley on her nightstand and the bowl on the floor at the side of her bed. Emily sighs and sits on the edge of her bed, pushing her fingers through Lucy’s hair like she’d done her whole life. She feels Aaron place a hand on her shoulder, and she reaches up for it, linking their fingers together as she turns to look at him.

“I think I should stay in here with her,” Emily replies, turning to look back at the teenager, “If she throws up in the night…” she drifts off and clears her throat, her lips shaking as she smiles sadly at Aaron, “I should stay.”

“Want me to stay too?”

She loves him because she knows he means it, that he’d sit in here with her until the sun rose in a few short hours just to keep her company. She shakes her head and drags her hand from her shoulder to kiss his knuckles, “You should get some sleep, honey. One of us needs to be a functioning parent tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” He asks, and she nods. He leans down to kiss her forehead, “I’m just next door if you need anything,” he kisses her forehead again, “I love you.”

She nods, only letting go of his hand as he steps away, their fingers slipping past each other’s until they are no longer close enough to touch, the cool air of Lucy’s room replacing the warm press of her husband's skin, “I love you too.”

Lucy stirs as the door opens and closes, groaning as she curls up into a ball, “Mommy?”

Emily blows out a slow breath, the use of the name she hadn’t been called in years hollowing out her chest. She runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair.

“Mommy’s right here, baby,” she says, running her knuckles down her cheek, “You get some sleep.”

___

She’s excited.

She blows out a slow breath as she watches the clock, her eyes flicking between it and the other women in the waiting room, smiling politely if they ever catch her eye, their hands almost always on their bumps.

“Everything will be fine, Em.”

She hums at her husband and turns to look at him, “I know,” she replies, smiling when he takes her hand and kisses the back of it, “I’m just excited to see the baby,” she rolls her eyes when he raises an eyebrow at her, “And I might be a little nervous,” she puts the hand not linked through his on her still flat stomach, “Sometimes I can’t believe I’ve been able to do this at all, let alone the fact I’m doing it a second time. It feels too good to be true.”

They’d been trying for over a year. It hadn’t happened as quickly as it had with Lucy, and each negative test, each month that passed where Emily wasn’t pregnant, felt like a dagger to the heart. It would steal her breath away each time, her lungs stuffed full of grief instead, and she’d find herself wondering if she was being punished for something. If the God she hadn’t believed in for decades was telling her she was being greedy, that she already had too much.

When she finally found herself staring at a positive test just a week ago, she couldn’t believe it. She’d sent Aaron out to buy more tests, and he’d come home with 10 of them, his smile embarrassed and nervous as he told her the teenager working in the pharmacy had looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

Every test had come back positive, and it felt like everything was finally aligning, that she was finally getting the final piece of the puzzle of their family.

Just days later, the morning sickness started. At first, she’d thought it was in her head, that she felt awful because she knew she was pregnant, but it was much worse than she remembered it being when she was pregnant with Lucy. It was part of the reason they’d already told the kids why they’d sat Jack and Lucy down and told them they were having a baby, because Emily was so sick she couldn’t hide it, and they were worried about her.

“It’s amazing,” he says, stamping his lips against hers, “Because you’re amazing.”

“You always say the corniest shit-”

“Emily Hotchner?”

They both turn at the sound of her name and they stand. Emily swallows thickly as the movement makes her stomach flip unpleasantly, something Aaron notices. He puts his hand on her lower back and guides her into the doctor’s office, making small talk with Doctor Simpson, as Emily catches her breath.

“I know we have a lot of things to discuss,” Doctor Simpson says, “But, I know you’re probably keen to see your baby - so why don’t we do the scan first?”

Emily nods, sighing in relief, “Yes, please.”

Doctor Simpson smiles as she points over to the bed in the corner, “You know the drill - everything off below the waist. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Emily nods and rolls her eyes at Aaron when he looks like he’s considering standing on the other side of the curtain she pulls around them both, “You’re allowed to see me without my pants on, honey,” she says as she unbuttons her jeans, “That’s kind of how we ended up in this situation,” she quips, and he nods, looking adorably embarrassed. She bends down to take her pants and underwear off in one go, smiling to herself when she thinks of the first time they’d done this when she was having Lucy. Aaron had asked her if she needed to take her socks off too, and she’d told him she could keep her socks on for a vaginal exam - a comment that had drawn a laugh from Doctor Simpson on the other side of the paper curtain. She rolls up her pants into a ball and hands them to Aaron, “Can you take these?”

“Of course,” he replies, unfurling them from a ball and folding them neatly before he places them on the chair in the corner, her underwear hidden under them as if her doctor would never have seen a pair before. He smiles curiously at Emily when he looks back up at her and she shakes her head at him as she’s sitting on the bed, pulling the small blanket over her lap, “What?”

“You’re cute,” she says, offering her hand out to him and squeezing when he links their fingers together and sits next to her, “That’s all.”

“Are you ready in there?”

“We’re ready,” Emily replies, smiling at Aaron as he squeezes her hand again. She feels a little calmer already, his presence a reassurance that no matter what, everything will be okay.

Doctor Simpson pulls the curtain back and sits down next to the ultrasound, “So, how do Jack and little Lucy feel about having a brother or sister?”

Emily huffs out a breath, “Jack is delighted, he loves being a big brother. Lucy, on the other hand…”

She drifts off as she thinks about it, wincing internally at the memory of her daughter’s less than enthusiastic response to the news that Emily was pregnant. She’d frowned, then had a tantrum, and then cried as she buried her face in Emily’s neck as she insisted she didn’t want a baby. It had almost driven Emily to tears too, disappointment, guilt and hormones swirling in her gut in a way that made her feel nauseous for entirely different reasons than her usual morning sickness. Aaron had assured her that Lucy would come around, that no matter what, she’d love her sibling, but it felt hard to believe when every time they mentioned the baby, Lucy would frown at them.

“Lucy is still coming around to the idea,” Aaron says diplomatically, and Doctor Simpson laughs.

“My little boy was unsure at first too,” she says, “But he got used to it the moment he met his sister,” she looks at Emily, “Slight pressure whilst I insert the probe.”

“Okay,” Emily sucks in a breath, and it catches as she screws her face up, squeezing Aaron’s hand as she breathes back out again, “I just want her to be excited,” she says, opening her eyes and tilting her head towards her husband, “She’ll be such a good big sister,” she smiles at Aaron when he kisses her knuckles, and then she turns to Doctor Simpson, her heart skipping a beat when she sees the look on her face, a momentary reaction she thinks other people might miss, “What’s wrong?”

Doctor Simpson smiles at her and turns the screen towards them, “Nothing is wrong, Emily,” she says, pointing at the screen, “This is Baby A, and this,” she says, pointing to another part of the screen, “And this is Baby B.”

Emily chokes on a laugh, and she hears Aaron do the same, “There…there are two of them in there?”

“Congratulations guys, you’re having twins.”

Emily turns to look at Aaron, tears shining in her eyes, “We’re having twins.”

He leans in and kisses her, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she lays her head back down and laughs to herself, “Twins.”

Aaron runs his fingers through her hair and winks at her when she looks at him, “Just imagine how Lucy will react when she finds out there are two of them.”

“Aaron.”

___

Lucy groans as she rolls onto her back, opening her eyes and then immediately closing them again. There’s a series of noises from downstairs, the familiar sound of Saturday morning breakfast being made and Aaron’s voice mixing in with Eleanor and Samuel’s, the sound of pots and pans being pulled from cabinets louder than it ever had been.

“Oh God,” Lucy says, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she rests her hand over her eyes.

“Good morning,” Emily says, smiling at Lucy as she lifts her head just enough to look at her.

“What are you doing in here?”

Emily raises an eyebrow at her, “That’s a lovely way to greet the person who came to pick you up from Carrie’s house in the middle of the night,” she sighs as Lucy sits up, blinking several times as she rests her back against the headrest, “I’ve already sent her mother a text by the way. So I imagine she’ll be in trouble this morning, too.”

Lucy scoffs and throws her hands up, all of the drunken remorse she’d shown signs of the night before replaced with her hangover and usual teenage defiance “Mom-”

“No, there’s no Mom with this,” Emily says, firmer than she usually would be, her concern still flickering low in her gut, the knowledge of all the things that could have happened to her daughter the night before gasoline on the fire of it, “You did something really stupid last night,” she says, proud of herself for keeping her voice even, for not letting it shake, “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

Lucy tucks her knees against her chest and rests her chin on them, avoiding eye contact with her mother as she plays with a loose thread on the seam of her comforter, “You sound like Dad.”

“I can get him up here to talk to you instead if you’d like,” Emily says, “And I can go downstairs and help Nora and Sammy with breakfast.”

Lucy groans, “Speaking of breakfast,” she says, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands before she rests her chin back on her knees, “Do they have a marching band down there helping them or something?”

Emily chuckles at that, “No, sweetheart. You’ve just never been hungover before.”

They fall into silence at that, each one of them almost daring the other to speak first. This was uncharted territory. Lucy had been in trouble before, had pushed the boundaries that they’d set like all teenagers did, but she’d never done anything like this. She’d never outrightly defied them. She’d never snuck out of the house. She’d never put herself in a situation that Emily and Aaron may not have been able to help her out of. It left Emily feeling sad and at a loss. It felt like she was right back at the start again, clutching a tiny baby against her chest and feeling like she was suddenly expected to know what to do to keep her safe.

Jack had always been different. She worried about him; she loved him the same as the others, but he was older when she came into his life as his mom, already knew how to ask for help and how to tell her what was wrong. It was a difference that had carried on as the children got older. He’d always been more cautious, more reserved. A reaction to what he’d gone through when he was young that, even now, he had never entirely been able to shake off.

“I…I’m sorry,” Lucy says, swallowing thickly, “I was angry that you guys wouldn’t let me go, and I didn’t really think.”

“No, you didn’t,” Emily replies, and Lucy sighs, her lips pressed together as she shakes her head.

“Mom, can you just yell at me and get it over with? Please? I know you’re mad-”

“I’m not mad, Lucy,” she says, smiling tightly when Lucy raises an eyebrow at her, “Okay, I am mad. But I’m mostly disappointed,” she adds, watching as Lucy sinks in on herself, her face falling as her mother’s disappointment washes over her. It makes Emily feel oddly guilty even though it’s the truth, “Your dad and I trust you and now…”

Lucy chokes on a laugh, “You can still trust me, Mom,” she insists, her brow furrowed together, “It was just one night.”

“One night where if things had gone differently, could have cost us you,” she says, swallowing back nausea at the thought of it, “What if you’d lost your phone? Or I didn’t know where the party was? What if someone had slipped something into one of your drinks?” She maintains eye contact with her daughter, watches as the seriousness of what could have happened washes over her, and she sighs, reaching out and placing her hand on Lucy’s knee, “We didn’t say you couldn’t go for the fun of it, Luce. We were doing our job as your parents to keep you safe.”

Lucy sighs, her lips shaking as she presses them together, “I really am sorry. And I’m sorry I told Dad I hate him. That’s not true,” she says, her eyes shining, “He knows that’s not true, right?”

Emily nods and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “He does, baby. But you need to say that to him too, okay?” She says, and Lucy nods, grimacing as she does so, the pounding in her head briefly worse because of it, “You did the right thing by calling me. And I hope you know that you always can, no matter what.”

“I know,” Lucy says as she closes the gap between them, sinking into Emily’s side and pressing her forehead into her neck like she hadn’t since she was little, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Emily turns her head to kiss Lucy’s temple, grimacing at the smell of liquor seeping out of her pores, “I know, sweet girl,” she says, pulling back to look at her, “You’ve just got to make sure you learn from this, okay?”

Lucy nods, “So, how long am I grounded for?”

Emily chuckles, “Two weeks,” she says, raising an eyebrow as Lucy suppresses a groan a fraction too late to capture all of it, “If I didn’t know that your hangover will teach you a few lessons on its own I wouldn’t have talked your dad down from three.”

Lucy screws her face up and groans, rubbing her eyes again, “Yeah, this does suck.”

“The worst part is, they get worse as you get older.”

Emily can’t deny that she gets some satisfaction out of how Lucy’s mouth drops open, her shock clear as she scowls, “What?”

___

Emily couldn’t stop staring at her babies.

She’s lying in bed, Eleanor in one arm and Samuel in the other, looking back and forth between them, desperately trying to remember every feature of their faces. Aaron had only stepped out of the room to go and meet Jessica in the waiting room so he could bring Lucy and Jack to meet their new siblings.

“I hope you’re excited to meet your brother and sister,” she says quietly, not wanting to wake either of the twins up, “They’re excited to meet you,” she smiles to herself, “Well, your brother is anyway.”

As Emily’s pregnancy went on, Lucy was less resistant to the idea of being a big sister. She still wasn’t what Emily would call enthusiastic, but she’d lay with her head or her hand on Emily’s bump and laugh when she felt one of the babies move or kick. Emily was looking forward to seeing her little girl. She’d missed both her and Jack in the day since she’d last seen them, but she felt emotional about seeing Lucy again. The last time she’d seen her, she’d been her youngest, the baby of the family, and now she wasn’t anymore.

She smiles as she hears the familiar chatter of her husband and children in the hallway, their attempts at being quiet not working as she hears Aaron remind them both to be gentle through the closed door. He knocks before he walks in. Jack is a couple of paces ahead of Aaron, his smile wide and excited as he half-runs over to see her, only remembering his father’s warning to be careful part of the way to the bed. Lucy is in Aaron’s arms, her thumb in her mouth as she grips her father’s polo shirt collar with her other hand.

“They’re so small,” Jack says, his eyes full of awe as he stands on his tiptoes to look at the babies, “But your belly was so big.”

Emily chuckles at that, ignoring the pain that rolls through her, the newest scar on her abdomen burning, and she smiles at Aaron as their eyes meet, “That’s because the babies were in water, remember?” She says, smiling when he nods, “So I had two babies, and two sacks of water in my belly.”

Jack hums, “That must have been heavy.”

She nods, “It was sweetie,” she says, “Want to come up here and sit with us?”

Jack nods enthusiastically and climbs onto the bed, achingly careful as he sits next to her, his touch gentle as he touches one of the hats on the twin’s heads, “Which one is this?”

“That’s Samuel,” she says, “But we’re going to call him Sammy most of the time,” she turns her head to nod at the other baby in her arms, “And this is Eleanor, but we’ll call her Nora,” she looks over at Aaron and Lucy, smiling at her little girl, “Want to come and meet them, sweet girl?”

Lucy nods, her thumb still firmly in her mouth, and Aaron walks over, sitting her on the bed. She crawls closer, her head tilted as she looks at them both, “Pretty.”

“They are pretty, huh?” Emily says, smiling at her husband, her lips pressed together as she tries to stop herself from crying, “Why doesn’t Daddy take Sammy and sit with him and Jack in the chair, and you, me and Nora can sit here in the bed?”

Lucy nods again, her smile wide, “Yes.”

Aaron leans over and kisses Emily’s forehead as he eases Samuel from her arms. He carries him over to the seat next to the bed and encourages Jack to follow him. Jack sits in his lap, and Aaron helps him hold Samuel, his hand under his youngest son’s head to support it.

Emily wraps her arm around Lucy, one of her girls in each of her arms, and she drops a kiss on the toddler's forehead, “Are you okay, Luce?”

“I missed Mama.”

Emily kisses her head again, “I missed you too,” she says, breathing her in before she pulls back to look at Aaron and the boys, smiling when he looks up at her and winks, the air between them full of love and adoration that they didn’t need to put into words. She turns her attention back to Lucy, “So, what do you think of your brother and sister?”

Lucy looks thoughtful for a moment before she nods, reaching out to gently touch Eleanor’s cheek, “We can keep them.”

Emily laughs so loudly that she surprises herself, and she tucks some of Lucy’s hair behind her ear, “Good, I’m glad,” she replies, once again smiling when she meets her husband’s eyes, “I like them too much to return them.”

___

It’s a long day. One of the longest in a while, and by the time the evening rolls around, Emily doesn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired.

Lucy had been on her best behaviour all day. She’s quieter than usual, subdued by her hangover and the weight of the decision she’d made, and even though she’s glad the seriousness of what she’d done had sunk in, Emily finds herself missing her daughter’s usual personality. The smile that was all Aaron and the personality that was all her, or at least a version of her who had been loved in the way she’d wanted to be.

It meant the house was quiet, the twins catching on to the mood in the air, the thickness of it that lingered in every corner, and they’d been quiet too. Exchanging looks between the two of them, a simple raise of an eyebrow or a shrug that never failed to make Emily think they could read each other’s minds, a closeness between them that had tied them together since before they were born - a connection Emily hoped would stay with them forever.

As she gets ready for bed, grimacing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bags under her eyes seeming deeper than ever, Emily wants nothing more than for things to feel normal again by morning. For Lucy’s smile to reach her eyes but for the lesson she’d learnt to remain, for it to linger in the back of her mind whenever she considered doing something they’d told her not to in future. It was a strange mix of wanting her daughter to be more cautious but not to lose her sense of adventure. It was as if she was forever walking the line between wanting to let her kids grow into the people they were supposed to be and to never let them fly the nest, scared of what they’d do if they didn’t have her holding them up.

“I am so tired,” Emily groans as she crawls into bed, sighing contentedly as she pulls the covers around herself, “I don’t think I’ve got through the day on two hours of sleep since the twins were babies.”

Aaron chuckles as he climbs into bed next to her, “Remember the first night we brought them home? Neither of them would sleep, and then Lucy climbed into bed with us because she felt left out.”

She hums and shifts closer to Aaron, resting her head on his shoulder as she sinks into his arms, “She fell asleep, and I cried because Sammy could latch and Nora couldn’t,” she chuckles sadly, “It was a long night,” she tilts her head to look up at him, “Is it bad that I miss it?”

He kisses the top of her head, “No. I miss it too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love watching them grow up. I love them so much it hurts, and I’m proud of them. But everything felt easier then…or at least it was hard in a different way.”

“And,” he says, pushing her hair out of her face, “Back then, they didn’t sneak out of the house in the middle of the night.”

She hums and rests her head on his chest, her ear pressed over his heart, the familiar rhythm of it soothing some of the anxiety that had lingered all day, “Did you check that she’s still in her room?”

“Twice,” he replies, the rumble of it through his chest making her chuckle. “She apologised,” he says, tracing a hand up and down her back, “For what she said last night.”

“Good,” Emily replies, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, stamping a kiss against scarred knuckles that had never done anything other than gently trail down her skin, “She said she was going to,” she kisses his knuckles again, “She never meant it.”

“I know,” he replies, sucking in a breath so deep she can feel it beneath her cheek, can sense how it rattles around his chest, trying to fill the new spaces their daughter’s anger had chipped away at, “I know,” he repeats, chuckling humourlessly at himself, “It just doesn’t…”

“Make it any easier to hear,” she finishes for him, repeating the conversation they’d had last night when Lucy’s fury was still in the air around them, the flames of it still licking at his skin. Emily tilts her head up to kiss him, her hand on his cheek as she holds him in place, “Our kids are all very lucky to have you.”

He smiles into the kiss, pulling back just enough to speak, “They are lucky to have you too,” he replies, his smile getting wider when she predictably rolls her eyes at him, “It’s true. Lucy called because she knew that you’d answer and help no matter how mad we’d be. Could you have done the same when you were her age?”

“Oh god no,” she scoffs, shaking her head, “More than once, I got home as the sun rose,” she says sadly, her lips pressed together as she thinks of her younger self, of the girl who needed nothing more than the love she kept looking for in the wrong place and a hug, “If she ever noticed I was wearing the same clothes as the day before she never said anything.”

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear, his thumb tracing over her cheekbone, the sharpness of it at odds with the softness of her, with the vulnerability that only ever existed within the walls of their room.

“I couldn’t have called my parents either,” he says, “My dad would have been passed out drunk, and my mom would have been mad at me for doing something that could have made him mad.”

She turns her head to kiss his palm, “We deserved better.”

“Yeah,” he replies, “But we’re doing better,” he smiles as she tries to suppress a yawn, and he kisses the tip of her nose, “We should get some sleep.”

Emily nods and rests her head back on his chest, “I love you.”

He kisses the top of her head and runs his palm up and down her back, his lips pressed against her hairline as she drifts off, safe and secure in his arms, “I love you too.”

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