#around my arms and began to shiver violently before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seriiousgiirl · 1 month ago

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𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓉𝓎 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. I'm so sorry.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 4 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Dear Readers! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment on my story! Your words mean the world to me and have truly brightened my day. Knowing that my work resonated with you is the best kind of motivation and keeps me excited to continue writing. Your support makes this story even more special, and I can't wait to share more with you. Thank you again for reading, commenting, and being part of this experience. It really means more than I can say!

➜ ┊: chapter 3/?.

When James woke up, it was to the blaring sound of his alarm, startling him from the thin veil of sleep he’d managed to slip into. The red numbers on the clock glowed harshly in the dark: 7 a.m.

He blinked, disoriented, his body heavy with the remnants of exhaustion. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had slept through the night. The realisation brought an unexpected wave of relief. He sighed softly, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to release, the rare moment of peace filling him with something like gratitude. Maybe the nightmares were finally letting him go.

He moved to get out of bed, but before he could even shift the covers, a sudden pressure gripped his throat. His breath hitched violently as he was shoved back against the mattress, the force pinning him down like an iron vise. Panic shot through him like a jolt of electricity, his hands instinctively flying to his throat to fight off whatever was holding him. His heart raced as his eyes flew open, and in the dim light of the room, he saw it.

Him.

The towering figure of Pyramid Head loomed over him, its massive form blocking out everything else, its presence suffocating and oppressive. The weight of its hand pressed down on James’s throat with merciless strength, each thick finger wrapped around his neck like a vice.

James's breath came in short, panicked bursts as he struggled to free himself. His hands clawed at the creature’s arm, fingers digging into the cold, slick surface of its flesh, but it was like trying to move a mountain. The Pyramid Head didn’t budge. He didn’t flinch. He was as immovable as stone, watching James struggle beneath him with that same terrifying stillness.

James's vision blurred at the edges as the lack of air began to take its toll. His mind raced in frantic circles, trying to make sense of what was happening. This can't be real, he thought, but the crushing pain in his throat told him otherwise. Every attempt to fight back was futile, his strength draining faster with every passing second.

Desperate, James let out a strangled cry, his voice hoarse and broken. It felt like his lungs were on fire, the pressure mounting with every beat of his heart, but the Pyramid Head’s grip never loosened. It was relentless, unwavering. The monster's strength was absolute, and James could feel his own slipping away.

But then something changed.

The Pyramid Head let out a deep, guttural grunt, a sound so raw and visceral that it sent a shiver through James's already trembling body. The sound was filled with pain—its pain. For a moment, the monster’s grip tightened even further, and then it paused. The creature's head twitched slightly, its movements slow, almost hesitant, as though it was fighting something inside itself.

James gasped for breath, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why is it hesitating? The agony coursing through his throat was unbearable, but there was something different now—a strange, shared torment that wasn’t just his own. It felt like the Pyramid Head was suffering alongside him, trapped in the same unbearable anguish.

James’s mind reeled. He wasn’t just being punished. He was being mirrored. The pain, the desperation, the weight of everything crashing down on him—it wasn’t just his alone anymore. It was their pain.

As his vision continued to darken, James felt his strength fading. His hands, still clawing at the creature’s arm, began to weaken, his muscles giving in to the exhaustion. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each pulse slower than the last. The room around him seemed to blur, the edges of reality slipping away.

Yet, through it all, he could still hear it—the agonising grunt of the Pyramid Head, its silent suffering intertwining with his own. His thoughts were scrambled, fragmented memories flashing before his eyes. Mary. Silent Hill. The sins he could never atone for, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like the very hand around his throat.

Was this his punishment? His eternal reminder of what he had done?

That was it? There was no escape, no way out.

And then, just as his vision blurred completely, the hand around his throat... loosened.

"James?"

The sound of Laura’s voice cut through the suffocating haze, sharp and clear. His eyes flew open, and he was no longer beneath the crushing weight of Pyramid Head’s hand. Instead, he was in his bed, drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for breath. The bedroom was still cloaked in darkness, but the nightmare had loosened its grip, retreating back into the recesses of his mind.

James blinked, disoriented, trying to focus on the small figure standing by his bed. His eyes darted towards the clock: 3 am. His heart hammered violently in his chest, the remnants of fear and panic still clawing at him, but the world around him was real again. It was a dream... just a dream.

Laura stood at the edge of the bed, her wide blue eyes staring up at him with concern. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her pyjama shirt, the innocence in her face a stark contrast to the terror he had just experienced.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. "You were... making weird noises."

James swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. He sat up slowly, running a shaky hand over his face, wiping away the cold sweat that clung to his skin. His throat still felt tight, as if the hand of the nightmare had left a lingering imprint.

"Yeah," he rasped, his voice hoarse and strained. "I'm okay. Just... just a bad dream."

Laura frowned, not entirely convinced. She stepped closer to the bed, her gaze still fixed on him. "Are you sure? It sounded really bad."

James forced a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It was just a dream," he repeated, hoping the words would somehow make it feel less real. But the weight of the nightmare still pressed down on him, the image of Pyramid Head looming over him burned into his mind—he hadn’t seen it so clearly in the past three years.

Laura hesitated for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed. "You don’t have to be scared," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "It's gone now."

James looked at her, his heart twisting at the sight of her small figure sitting there, trying to offer him comfort. She shouldn’t have to do that—shouldn’t have to worry about him. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, not the other way around. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. "Thanks, Laura," he murmured. "But I’m fine, really. Just... tired."

She nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t leave him. "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," she added, her voice gentle, "but I’m here if you need to."

Her words, so innocent and sincere, tugged at something deep within James. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I know," he said quietly. "Thank you."

Laura gave him a small smile, "Okay," she said, "but you should try to sleep again. I don’t want you to be grumpy in the morning."

James chuckled softly, a faint glimmer of warmth breaking through the lingering cold of the nightmare. "I’ll try," he promised.

Laura lingered at the door longer than usual, shifting nervously on her feet. James noticed the way she hesitated, her small fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as if she was weighing her words.

"Dad..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I... Can I sleep here with you tonight?"

James looked at her, surprised by the question. She usually slept fine on her own, her confidence never wavering, but tonight there was something different—something in the way she looked at him, as if she wanted to make sure he would be okay. His heart clenched. He wanted to say no, to tell her she didn’t have to worry about him, that he could handle it. But as he looked into her concerned eyes, the words died on his tongue.

He didn’t have the strength to refuse her. He didn’t want to.

James nodded, his voice soft. "Yeah... sure. Come on."

Laura smiled, a small, relieved smile, and without hesitation, she padded over to the bed. She climbed up and settled herself on the other side, her small body sinking into the mattress. James shifted over, making space for her, and pulled the blanket over both of them. The bed felt different with her there, warmer in a way that chased away some of the lingering coldness from his nightmare.

She lay on her side, facing him, her eyes blinking up at him sleepily. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness. "I’ll stay quiet. I promise."

James smiled faintly at her words, knowing that she wasn’t the one who needed to be quiet. He nodded, his heart a little lighter now. "It's okay. Get some rest, sweetie."

She closed her eyes, nestling into the pillow, and within moments her breathing started to slow. It didn’t take long before she drifted off, the tension in her small body easing as sleep took her.

James stayed awake for a while longer, looking at her fondly, listening to the steady rhythm of Laura’s breathing beside him. The nightmare still clawed at the edges of his mind, but with Laura next to him, it didn’t feel as heavy—didn’t feel as suffocating.

Just as he thought she had fallen asleep, Laura's voice piped up, soft yet curious. "James?"

He opened his eyes slightly, glancing at her. "Yeah?"

"You know, Y/n?" she asked, her voice still sleepy but curious. "I think she likes you a lot."

James chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light despite the weight of his own emotions. "You promised to be quiet, remember?"

Laura ignored his teasing, "But really! You two talk a lot after school. It's like... you're friends or something."

James felt a warmth spread through him, but guilt quickly followed. "Laura, she's just being nice. It’s part of her job."

"But it feels different," Laura insisted, her eyes brightening. "I mean, she listens to you, and you look at her like she’s really special."

James shifted uncomfortably unsure how to respond—was he really that obvious? "It's not like that, kiddo."

Laura pouted, clearly not convinced. "You should ask her out! It would be fun."

"Let’s not rush into things, okay?" he said, trying to divert the conversation. "Get some sleep."

But Laura's enthusiasm remained undeterred. "Just think about it, James. You could be happy again."

───────────────

James could hardly believe the morning he was having as he pulled into the school parking lot. The sun hung low in the sky, illuminating the campus with a golden glow, but the warmth did little to ease the chill in his chest. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, his heart sinking when he realised how late it was. 10 am. A knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach as he replayed the events of the morning in his mind.

He was usually a master of routine, a creature of habit who thrived on early mornings filled with journaling and quiet reflection. Each day began with his insomnia, a reminder that he needed to confront his thoughts and feelings before they overwhelmed him. Then, his alarm would uselessly ring—signalling it was time to get ready for work. But this morning had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving him disoriented and breathless. He had woken up to find Laura sprawled across him, her small form curled up against his side, blissfully asleep.

For a fleeting moment, he had thought it was a dream, the sunlight streaming through the window and filling the room with a golden hue. But as he shifted to sit up, he felt her weight shift, and a wave of panic washed over him when he glanced at the clock and saw that it was already past what was supposed to be his alarm.

He cursed himself for letting time slip away, for not managing to wake up on time.

It was the first time in… he couldn’t even remember.

Now, here he was, late for dropping Laura off at school, the first hours of class already long gone. As he stepped out of the car, he took a deep breath to steady himself, but the air felt heavy, suffocating in its stillness. The laughter and shouts of children drifted from the playground, where kids were already enjoying their break.

James's heart raced as he walked Laura to the entrance, her small hand in his, each step heavy with the guilt of not having given her a proper start to her day. "Alright, kiddo," he said, kneeling down to her level. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead, his thumb lingering on her cheek for just a moment.

“Have a great day at school. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Laura beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling with youthful energy, unbothered by his stress. “Okay! Bye, James!” she called out, her voice ringing with innocence as she dashed toward her friends. The sight of her running off filled him with a mix of pride and sadness, knowing that she was growing up too fast and he was struggling to keep pace.

As he turned to leave, still feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders, he heard a familiar—sweet voice call out to him from behind. “James! Wait!”

You were standing by the school entrance, your expression a blend of concern and curiosity as you hurried over. The way your brow furrowed slightly over your pretty face made his heart race, a mixture of anxiety and something deeper rising in his chest. He paused, turning to face you, breathless from the rush of the morning and the unexpected tightness in his throat.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft yet probing, as if you could sense the turmoil churning beneath his surface. Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, he felt as though you could see right through him, peeling back the layers of his façade.

James hesitated, his gaze dropping to the curves of your lips then to the ground, avoiding your eyes. The weight of your question hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the tangled emotions he was struggling to untangle. He felt a flush creep up his neck as memories of the previous night rushed back. The sinful images of you lingered in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the shame that clung to him like a shadow.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though the lie felt thin and unconvincing even to him. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he recalled how he had crossed a line he never thought he would, the memory of touching himself to the thought of you still vivid in his mind. The pleasure had felt so—so good, so real, and it had terrified him.

“Really?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Because I sent you a text this morning. I thought something might be wrong, but you didn’t respond.”

James finally glanced up at you, guilt washing over him. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, fumbling for the right words. “I don’t check my phone a lot,” he replied finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a lame excuse, but it was the truth. “I slept in, and rushed to get to school for Laura.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “You can talk to me, you know.”

His heart raced, a tempest of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn’t meet your gaze; the shame was too much. The way you cared about him felt like a gift and a curse all at once. James felt a twinge of shame, but it was quickly replaced by a darker, more intense emotion. He wanted to show you the depths of his desires, to make you understand the forbidden fantasies that consumed his thoughts, maddening him. But he knew he couldn't.

He had to play the part of the noble, kind dad, even if it meant hiding his true nature.

“It’s just… a lot on my mind,” he finally admitted, his voice heavy with unspoken burdens. “Things have been complicated lately.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, he felt the tension ease just a fraction. “You can trust me, James. I’m here for you. But you need to let me in,” you urged gently, a plea wrapped in kindness.

But could he let you in? The thought made his stomach churn. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice low, “but I really don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze unwavering. “You’re not dragging me anywhere. I care about you, and I want to help. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

James felt the heat of shame rise again, and he struggled to push it back down. How could he look you in the eyes, knowing the truth about his thoughts? He wanted to be strong for you, to be the man you could, at least, trust. But all he felt was weakness, and the weight of his guilt settled on his chest like a lead blanket.

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” he murmured, finally managing to meet your eyes for a brief moment. But the intensity of your gaze made him falter, and he looked away again, unable to face the truth of what he was feeling. “I’m just… working through things.”

Your silence spoke volumes, the unyielding concern in your eyes making his heart ache. He wished he could explain everything, but how could he possibly share the darker parts of himself with someone like you?

“Just… promise me you’ll reach out if you need anything, okay?” you finally said, breaking the tension. “I’m serious, James.”

He nodded, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. “I promise,” he replied, though a part of him knew that it was easier said than done.

As you turned to walk away, he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t opened up more. But the fear of crossing that invisible line held him back. James watches you walk away, the subtle sway of your hips and the gentle curve of your waist etched in his mind. He feels a surge of longing, a desperate desire to reach out and pull you back, and confess his sins. His cock twitches, already half-hard from the mere thought of you.

"Fuck—Y/n," he mutters under his breath, "Why do you have to be so damn irresistible?"

───────────────

As the clock ticked closer to the end of the workday, James sat at his desk, staring blankly at the scattered papers before him. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered slightly, casting a sterile glow over the room that felt almost suffocating. He felt like a ghost, floating through the motions of his job, answering emails and attending meetings without really being present. Today, he was just a shadow of a man—or, accurately, more so than usual.

People had noticed, of course. Colleagues shot him concerned glances, occasionally asking if he was okay or if he needed anything. Each time, he forced a smile, shaking his head and offering a noncommittal “I’m fine.” But inside, turmoil brewed, like a storm waiting to break. The night had been particularly gruelling, filled with restless dreams that dragged him back into the depths of his mind, reliving memories he wished he could forget.

It was one of those days when the weight of his past felt heavier, the shadows of his choices creeping closer. He thought of the bottle—his old friend during those dark moments when he felt utterly helpless. The memories of late nights spent drowning his sorrows flashed before him, the blurry faces of friends and the muffled laughter that felt so far away now. Back then, the alcohol had numbed the pain, the overwhelming ache of watching Mary suffer, feeling so utterly powerless to change anything. Those memories clung to him like a shroud, and the shame of his past habits stung like an old wound.

The image of her pale face haunted him, the way she had looked in those final months—fragile and thin, her laughter replaced by the echoes of hospital machinery. He remembered how her eyes had once sparkled with life, but now they were often clouded with pain and confusion. The sight of her suffering had been a visceral blow, each moment a reminder of his helplessness.

He could have fought against the world, against fate itself—and literally did. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

It has been too late.

But the truth weighed heavily on his heart. He felt the ghost of Mary’s disappointment in every corner of his mind, a reminder that he could have been better, when she was still alive.

James felt a familiar ache in his heart as he thought of the countless nights spent sitting by her bedside, holding her hand as she drifted in and out of sleep. Each breath she took felt like a precious gift, and yet it was always laced with the knowledge that it could be the last. The feeling of despair had washed over him like a tide, threatening to pull him under. Those moments had changed him irrevocably, carving deep lines of sorrow into his soul.

He had retreated into himself during those difficult months, drowning in his own despair. The nights had been the worst. He would pour himself a drink—a bottle even, hoping it would drown out the pain, hoping it would help him forget the image of Mary lying in that hospital bed, frail and pale.

Today, he couldn’t afford to give in. He had Laura now, and he knew that drinking would only lead him down a path he was desperate to avoid. If he allowed those demons back in, he could destroy everything he was trying to build for her. The thought sent a chill through him; he couldn’t bear the idea of failing her, of becoming the man he once was. It was a battle he had fought before, and he felt the scars of that struggle etched deep within him.

As the final minutes of his workday ticked away, he gathered his belongings, stuffing them into his bag with a quickness that belied his earlier lethargy. The anticipation of picking her up sparked something inside him.

Walking through the office, he exchanged polite nods with coworkers who asked about his weekend plans or made small talk about the weather. He felt detached from it all, their chatter a distant hum that faded as he focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat. With each step toward the door, the heaviness in his chest lightened just a fraction.

As he arrived at the school, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the playground where children laughed and played. He parked the car and stepped out, adjusting his khaki jack as if it was his armour.

As he walked toward the school building, he caught sight of her, laughing with a group of friends, her blonde hair catching the light as she spun around. In that moment, everything felt right. He made his way over, feeling the corners of his mouth lift in a smile that had been absent for too long.

“Hey, kiddo!” he called out, and her head whipped around, a huge grin spreading across her face.

“James!” she shouted, dashing toward him and throwing her arms around his waist.

The embrace was everything. In that simple moment, the weight of his struggles fell away, replaced by the warmth of her affection. He lifted her up, spinning her around as she squealed with delight, the sound a balm for his troubled soul. “Did you have a good day?” he asked, setting her down but keeping his hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah! We did art today, and I made a drawing for you!” She beamed, her excitement infectious.

He smiled warmly, “I can’t wait to see. Do you know where Y/n is? Perhaps… Well, I could thank her for encouraging my little artist.” He says, casually trying to mask his curiosity and neediness.

Laura’s smirk was instantaneous, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She cast him a knowing glance, as if she were privy to some secret that he was oblivious to. James felt his cheeks warm slightly, caught off guard by her expression. Did she think he was being too obvious? He quickly focused on her, hoping to deflect any teasing that might come his way. Before he could say anything else, he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

You appeared, walking toward them, and a wave of relief washed over him. The way you carried yourself—so pretty and poised, your hair catching the light, made his heart race. As you lifted your hand in a gentle wave, he instinctively returned the gesture, his smile widening as he did.

Laura observed the exchange, her smirk growing wider as she clearly relished the moment. “Y/n!” she called out, her voice laced with playful energy. “Come over here!”

You approached, and James felt a rush of warmth at the sight of you. It was as if your presence illuminated the space around him, chasing away the shadows that had lingered throughout his day. Laura looked back and forth between the two of you, her eyes sparkling with mischief as if she knew something he didn’t.

“Looks like someone was missing you,” Laura teased, nudging him playfully.

James shot her a warning glance, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. He couldn’t deny it; he had been thinking about you. As you drew closer, he felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within him. The air crackled with unspoken words, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before he could find the courage to say what was really on his mind.

“Hey James,” you said, your voice bright and inviting. “I just finished my class. What are you two up to?”

James found himself momentarily lost in your gentle gaze, his thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. He opened his mouth to respond, but Laura beat him to it, her teasing nature coming alive. “We were just talking about you! James was wondering where you were.”

He shot Laura a look of disbelief, his mind racing as he tried to recover from the unexpected confession. But your smile only widened, and he felt a thrill of warmth spread through him. Maybe this interaction wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Really?” you replied, tilting your head slightly as you met his eyes. There was a playful curiosity in your expression, and he suddenly felt vulnerable under your gaze.

“Uh, yeah…” he stammered, fumbling for the right words as he tried to shake off the flustered feeling. “I was just… curious.”

Laura was practically beaming, clearly enjoying this. “Curious, huh?”

James felt his heart race, embarrassment creeping up on him. “It’s not like that,” he protested weakly. James felt his cheeks heat again as you chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through him. This was supposed to be a simple pickup, yet the dynamic felt charged, filled with possibilities that hung in the air between the three of you.

“Anyway, what are you two up to?” you asked again, your tone light, but he sensed the underlying curiosity as you glanced at Laura.

“It’s time to head home and James says he will cook some pizzas,” Laura replied. “You should join us! It’ll be fun!”

James’s heart raced at the thought of spending more time with you, but he hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this moment. Yet, as he looked at you, he felt an urge to say yes, to perhaps—embrace the connection that had begun to blossom between you.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he finally managed, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within him. Maybe this was a step toward something more, something he had longed for but had been too afraid to pursue.

But then you smiled back—that damn smile he couldn’t resist.

As the conversation flowed, James felt a sense of ease he hadn’t anticipated. And just like that, he found himself sharing his address with you, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest. “You can come over for dinner anytime you want,” he said, trying to sound casual but secretly hoping you’d take him up on the offer.

You nodded happily, a bright smile lighting up your face, and it made something warm bloom in his chest. “I’d love that,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “See you later, then?”

With a final wave, you parted ways. As James drove home with Laura, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope—which was surprising considering the mindset he had started the day with.

Once home, James quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. He could hear Laura humming to herself in the living room as she played, her excitement palpable at the thought of having you over. It felt surreal to think of someone else in their space.

Since they had found this home, it had always been just the two of them—James and Laura, along with the lingering shadows of his past that seemed to haunt every corner. Laura’s beaming smile was infectious as she darted around, setting up her toys in preparation for dinner. “I can’t wait to show Y/n my drawings!” she exclaimed.

James couldn’t help but smile back, but there was a bittersweet edge to his joy. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

With a resigned sigh, he set to work in the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make the pizzas. He rolled the dough, meticulously spreading the sauce, layering cheese, and sprinkling toppings. Each movement was methodical and precise, and once the pizzas were in the oven, James leaned against the counter, staring into the heat.

Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking him from his reverie.

He wiped his hands on a towel, glancing toward the living room to see Laura perk up, her excitement radiating as she bounced on her feet, leaving her dolls aside. “It’s Y/n!” she squealed, racing to the door before he could react.

James hesitated for a brief moment, lingering behind Laura as she flung the door open with childlike excitement. His nerves tingled, tension building in his chest as he prepared for whatever was about to unfold. And then there you were, standing in the doorway, framed by the fading light of the evening, your smile so warm it seemed to chase away the gloom that clung to him.

You looked... radiant. James couldn’t help but wonder how you always managed to look so effortlessly beautiful, no matter the occasion. It wasn’t just tonight; he realised, in all the years you had been teaching Laura, not once had he thought of you as anything but pretty. Whether it was seeing you in the classroom or running into you at a school event, there was something about you that always caught his eye—your soft smile, the way you carried yourself, the kindness in your voice. It had always been there, even when he was too lost in his own grief to notice.

But now, standing in the doorway of his home, the feeling was different. The warmth of your smile didn’t just pull him in—it melted something inside him.

"Hi," you greeted softly, that same spark of warmth in your voice, and it made something stir in his chest. He nodded, returning the greeting a little more awkwardly than he'd intended.

“Hey,” James finally managed, his voice rougher than he’d expected. Laura was already tugging you inside, eagerly talking about the pizza and her day at school, but James stayed still for a moment, just watching as you stepped into the space that had always been reserved for him and his daughter.

His mind raced, and for a fleeting second, he wondered what you saw when you looked at him. Did you see the tired, worn-down man he had become? Or did you sense the heaviness he carried? He felt a little off balance—vulnerable, in a way he hadn't expected.

And yet, here you were, stepping into his home, into his world.

The smell of pizza filled the air, a warm and familiar scent that seemed to relax everyone as the three of you sat around the small dining table. James had set out plates while Laura eagerly chattered, her voice filling the room with energy. You had settled in effortlessly, your presence a surprising but welcome contrast to the usual quiet of their dinners.

"Pizza's looking good," you commented with a smile, watching as James carefully cut a slice. Laura nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Yeah, James makes the best pizza!" Laura grinned, reaching for a slice as soon as James slid it onto her plate. "He used to let me put the toppings on, but I kinda put way too much cheese last time."

James chuckled softly, the sound rare but genuine. “You really buried the pizza under a mountain of it. Could barely taste anything else.”

You laughed along, glancing at him. “Sounds like Laura knows how to make pizza fun, though. Maybe next time I can help out, too.”

James paused for a second, caught off guard by the casual offer. “Yeah... maybe,” he said, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slight smile as he looked down at his plate.

Laura, ever the observer, noticed and jumped in, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “You should! We could have pizza parties!” She beamed, clearly excited at the prospect. “James, don’t you think that’d be awesome?”

James looked at her and then at you, feeling the warmth of Laura's excitement. “Yeah,” he finally said, nodding. “It could be nice.”

You smiled back, the ease of the conversation making the room feel lighter and James’ heart missing a beat. “Well, I’m always up for a pizza party. It’s kind of hard to say no to pizza.”

Laura took a big bite and looked at both of you with a mischievous grin. “See, James? I told you she’d be cool with it.”

The way Laura was looking at you two didn’t escape James, and he felt his face grow warm. The last thing he expected tonight was for you to become such a natural part of their evening, but there you were—laughing with his daughter, making things feel... normal.

As the meal continued, the conversation shifted between Laura’s day at school and little stories that you shared. At one point, Laura proudly announced that she’d scored well on a recent maths test, which made James beam with pride. “She’s doing really well in class,” you added, glancing at James. “She’s smart and determined. You’ve raised a great kid.”

James looked down at his plate, something tightening in his chest. He didn’t feel like he deserved credit for that, not after everything, but hearing it from you made him feel... lighter. “Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter. “It’s mostly her. She’s always been bright.”

Laura, oblivious to the weight of the moment, kept eating happily, but you caught the subtle shift in James’ tone. You didn’t push, though, just offered a kind smile and continued the conversation, giving him space to be in his thoughts. Eventually, Laura leaned back in her chair, full and content, her eyes flicking to the clock.

"Can I go play for a bit before bed?" she asked, giving both you and James a hopeful look.

James nodded. "Just for a little while," he said, and she shot out of her chair, racing off to the living room.

That left the two of you alone at the table. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something palpable about it. James glanced at you, unsure of what to say.

“You really do make good pizza,” you said, breaking the quiet with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” James replied, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Used to make it a lot more... back then.”

You noticed the way his voice shifted but didn’t press him. “Well, I’m glad you made it tonight.”

There was a pause, and James looked at you again, something unspoken hanging between you. It was as if both of you felt the weight of the moment but weren’t quite ready to acknowledge it.

He cleared his throat, standing up and collecting the plates. “You want any more?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“No, I’m good,” you said, your voice light but your gaze steady on him.

As James moved around the kitchen, washing the plates, he couldn’t help but glance back at you every now and then. You were sitting quietly, but the way you were here, in his home, sharing this meal—it felt strange, but in a good way. A part of him, the part he kept buried deep down, almost didn’t want the night to end.

After another trivial discussion and the plates were washed and put away, the evening began to wind down. Laura, still buzzing with the joy of having you over, had reluctantly agreed to get ready for bed. She came out in her pyjamas, clutching a book close to her chest, her green eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Can Y/n read me my story tonight?” she asked, her voice hopeful as she looked between you and James.

James hesitated, unsure if you’d want to stick around any longer. He felt like he’d already taken up so much of your time. But before he could say anything, you smiled warmly at Laura.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you said, and James felt his heart tighten in his chest.

You followed Laura to her room, and James trailed behind, lingering in the doorway. He watched as you sat on the edge of Laura’s bed, the book resting in your lap as Laura snuggled into her blankets, her eyes wide with anticipation. The moment felt almost surreal—too normal, too peaceful. It was something James hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime, this quiet domesticity. And it scared him.

As you began reading, your voice gentle and soothing, James leaned against the doorframe, his eyes drifting from the book in your hands to your face. The soft glow from Laura’s bedside lamp cast a warm light over you, making you seem almost ethereal. He tried not to stare, tried not to let his mind wander, but it was impossible. There was something about the way you read, the way you interacted with Laura, that tugged at something deep within him.

You would be a good mother, he caught himself thinking, and the realisation hit him harder than he expected.

James swallowed hard, his chest tightening as guilt crept in. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not about you. Not about anyone. He’d already crossed too many lines, already indulged in thoughts and feelings that he had no right to.

He thought about Mary then. How he had never really wanted children, never really allowed himself to consider it. It had always been a silent, unspoken disagreement between them, never fully addressed but understood. They’d dodged the conversation for years—he told himself it was for the best. Mary was too sick, their lives too complicated. But deep down, he knew the truth: he had been afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, afraid that he would fail as a father the way he had felt like he was failing as a husband.

But now, looking at Laura, listening to the sound of your voice as you read to her, James couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted inside him. Laura had changed everything. He hadn’t been ready for her, hadn’t wanted her at first, but she had become his lifeline. And now, with you here, reading to her, it felt like some part of him was waking up that he had long buried.

And it scared him.

He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but the sound of your voice, the softness in your tone as you read, pulled him back into the moment. He wanted this. He hated how much he wanted it—wanted you, but the desire was there, clawing at him. This wasn't just about Laura. It was about you. The thought of sharing a future, of having something more than the emptiness he had known for years.

James tried to remind himself of everything that had happened. Of who he was. Of what he’d done. But the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the more he found himself indulging in the present. In the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could have something different now.

But even as he chastised himself, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop the way his heart beat a little faster when you smiled or the way his breath caught when your eyes flicked up to meet his for the briefest of moments as you read aloud. He felt like a monster. Like he was betraying everything he’d once held dear. Yet here he was, standing in the doorway of his daughter’s room, watching you with a longing he couldn’t ignore.

The worst part was that it wasn’t just about the physical and sexual attraction anymore. It was more than that. He admired the way you cared for Laura, the way you brought light into a room without even trying. You made things feel... bearable.

And that terrified him.

He barely noticed when the story ended until Laura’s voice broke through the fog in his mind.

“That was great!” she said, beaming at you as she settled deeper into her blankets. “Thanks, Y/n.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, your voice soft, giving Laura a gentle smile before standing up from the bed.

James straightened up, trying to compose himself as you turned toward the door. Laura yawned, stretching out her arms before looking at both of you with sleepy eyes.

“Goodnight, James. Goodnight, Y/n,” she murmured, her voice growing quieter as she drifted off.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” James replied, his voice hoarse. He stepped aside as you moved toward the door, giving you space.

As the two of you stepped out of Laura’s room, closing the door gently behind you, the silence between you felt heavy. James glanced at you, then quickly looked away, unsure of what to say or how to even begin to process what he was feeling.

“Thanks for reading to her,” he finally managed, his voice low.

“It was my pleasure,” you replied, smiling softly.

James couldn’t meet your gaze for more than a second before the guilt washed over him again. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve any of it. But despite all the reasons he gave himself, despite the self-loathing that filled him, he couldn’t shake the warmth that your presence brought.

James stood at the door for a long moment, torn between the overwhelming urge to ask you to leave and the inexplicable desire to keep you close, just a little longer. It was late, far too late, and he knew that. He parted his lips, ready to say the words: It’s getting late, you should probably go. But instead, what came out surprised even him.

"Would you... like to stay for a coffee?"

The words hung in the air for a second too long, and James immediately regretted them. What was he doing? But you smiled warmly, nodding without hesitation. "Sure, I'd love that," you said, and he could only nod back in response, still a little shaken by his own decision.

"Make yourself comfortable in the living room," he muttered, gesturing toward the door. "I'll... brew some coffee."

You gave a small nod and quietly slipped past him, heading toward the living room. James watched you go for a moment, feeling a nervous tension building in his chest before he shook it off and turned toward the kitchen. As he filled the coffee pot with water and measured out the grounds, his mind raced with what-ifs and doubts.

By the time the coffee was ready, the smell of it filling the small apartment, he felt his heart thudding against his ribs. He placed the mugs on a tray, feeling the weight of the simple act—sharing a moment with someone that wasn’t stained by the past.

But when he stepped into the living room, he froze.

You were standing by the shelf, your gaze fixed on a photo. His heart sank as he followed your line of sight, his stomach churning. It was Mary's picture—the one he had placed there after everything had happened, as a permanent reminder of what he'd lost. Her face, smiling, frozen in time.

For a moment, everything else disappeared, and all James could feel was the crushing weight of guilt.

You turned as he approached, your expression soft, understanding, as if you knew the heavy silence that had settled between you both. "She is beautiful," you said gently, offering the words like a balm to soothe the raw wound the sight of that photo had just opened.

James swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten. He placed the tray down on the small coffee table and ran a hand through his hair, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Yeah," he whispered, the single word full of years of pain, regret, and memories he could never let go.

His hands shook slightly as he sat down, unable to look at the photo any longer.

"She was."

You turned toward him, hesitating as your gaze flickered from the framed photograph of the woman on the shelf to James. There was a question in your eyes, but you didn’t know how to ask it, so your voice came out softer than usual, tentative. “Is she...?”

The words hung in the air, unfinished but full of meaning. James knew what you were asking. It was the question everyone skirted around but eventually needed to know. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His lips parted as if he needed to find the right words, but in the end, there were only the simple, inevitable ones.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost like it scraped its way out of him. “She’s dead. That was my wife, Mary.”

It still felt strange, even after all these years, to say it out loud. To hear the finality in the word “was.” It wasn’t like the first few months, where he couldn’t even form the sentence, where denial was stronger than acceptance. No, he’d long passed that. But every time he acknowledged it, it was as if he was chiselling away at some part of himself that he couldn’t get back.

You nodded slowly, taking in the weight of his words with an understanding that made him grateful. You didn’t rush in with platitudes, didn’t try to soften the blow with awkward condolences. You just... listened. You let the moment breathe.

But something inside James stirred, like an itch that wouldn’t go away. There was more to the story, more that you didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were here, sitting in his living room, in a space that had only been his and Laura’s, a space haunted by the presence of a woman long gone. Maybe it was because he felt like if he didn’t say these things now, they would continue to fester inside him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

“Laura,” he began, his voice wavering for a moment. He glanced at you to see if he should continue, but you were still watching him, your expression open and waiting. So, he pressed on.

“She shared a hospital room with Mary.” His eyes drifted away from you, lost in some far-off memory that repeated itself in his mind with painful clarity. “They became... friends, I guess.”

That word, “friends,” felt inadequate for what Mary and Laura had meant to each other. It felt too light, too shallow for the connection they’d shared in that sterile, cold hospital room.

“Mary,” he continued, his voice tightening with emotion he thought he had buried, “she wanted to adopt her. Laura didn’t have anyone else. No family. Mary thought… when she got better… when she was cured... she wanted to take Laura in.” James let out a bitter laugh, though it was hollow, empty. “But she never got better.”

He finally looked back at you, wondering if you understood what it had all meant. How his entire world had fallen apart in that room, how Mary’s death had left him with not only the guilt of her loss but also the responsibility of a little girl who had no idea how broken he was.

“The least I could do,” James murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to maintain control, “was to honour that part. Take care of Laura, like Mary would’ve wanted. She deserved that much.”

He let out a long breath, feeling as if he’d just opened an old wound, the pain of it sharp and raw again. His fingers twitched as he ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over him.

“It’s been hard,” he admitted, almost as if he were confessing to himself. “But I owed it to her. To both of them.”

The room felt thick with the weight of his words, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t push him, didn’t ask for more than what he was willing to share. And that, somehow, made him feel more vulnerable, like you were offering him a quiet kind of acceptance that he didn’t deserve.

His mind wandered back to the thought he had earlier while watching you with Laura. He’d never really thought about children before, not with Mary. They had avoided that discussion, each for their own reasons. Perhaps Mary had known something deep down—that her illness would make it impossible—or maybe James just hadn’t been ready for that kind of responsibility. He hadn’t known how to be a husband, let alone a father.

But Laura… Laura had changed that. Changed him.

He blinked, realising how long he had been quiet, and looked at you again. You hadn’t moved, still watching him, a gentle understanding in your eyes. For a moment, James considered telling you more, but the words caught in his throat. It felt like too much, too soon.

The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything James had just revealed. He could feel his heart thudding heavily in his chest, the vulnerability of it all still raw, and part of him wished he could take it all back, bury it again beneath the layers of guilt and grief he was so used to carrying. He didn’t deserve to unburden himself, not after everything he’d done.

But then you spoke, your voice soft, cutting through the stillness like a balm.

"James," you said, and the way you said his name made him pause. There was no pity in your tone, no judgement—just understanding. "You’re such a brave man. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m glad you told me. I understand so much more now… about you, about Laura… everything." You smiled gently, and the warmth of it reached him in a way that made something inside him crack.

James stared at you, the words washing over him like a wave he didn’t know how to brace for. Brave? Him? The notion felt foreign, almost absurd. Brave was the last thing he felt. He felt like a coward, someone who had failed time and time again—failed Mary, failed himself. And yet, here you were, looking at him with such softness, such kindness, like he was worth something more than the mess of a man he’d become.

His throat tightened, the breath catching in his lungs as he struggled to keep the flood of emotions at bay. But your words had reached somewhere deep inside him, a part he’d long thought was dead, or at least too buried beneath his guilt to ever feel anything again.

He opened his mouth to say something, to brush it off, maybe make light of it somehow, but nothing came out. Instead, a tremor ran through him, his hands suddenly unsteady as he clenched them into fists by his sides.

You didn’t push him. You just watched, that same gentle understanding in your eyes, and it was your silence—the fact that you weren’t asking anything of him—that undid him completely.

Before he could stop it, the first tear slid down his cheek, hot and unbidden. James quickly raised a hand to wipe it away, trying to regain control, but the more he fought it, the harder it became to hold back. He sucked in a shaky breath, and it felt like the dam he had built over the years was finally breaking, piece by piece.

"I—" His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, trying again. "I’m not… I’m not brave."

The words came out thick with emotion, almost inaudible, as he struggled to keep his composure. But it was no use. The walls he had built around himself, the ones that had protected him from feeling too much, were crumbling, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to.

His shoulders shook, and before he could stop himself, he brought a hand to his face, covering his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and uncontrollable. He hadn’t cried like this—not in years. He didn’t even know he still could.

James broke down, standing there in front of you, all the grief, the guilt, the shame he’d held onto for so long spilling out of him in waves. He cried for Mary, for the life they never got to have, for Laura, for you, for himself—for everything. Through the blur of his tears, he felt a presence beside him, and then your hand touched his face, gentle and reassuring. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Your touch felt like the only thing anchoring him in that moment, the only thing keeping him from drowning completely.

"You are brave, James," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. You’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough."

He shook his head—leaning into your touch, not trusting himself to speak, but your words resonated inside him, even as he fought them. You didn’t know everything, didn’t know what he had done. But there was something in the way you looked at him, like you believed in him—like he wasn’t beyond saving.

And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You stayed there beside him as he cried, not saying anything more, just offering your quiet presence, and it was enough. More than enough. Because in that moment, James didn’t feel alone. Not anymore.

Your hand, gentle and steady, reached up to James’ face, your fingertips brushing against his rough, unshaven cheek. The touch was soft, almost hesitant at first, but then you let your thumb sweep over his skin, chasing away the tears that had fallen. His breath hitched at the contact, and he closed his eyes as if it took everything in him just to accept the comfort you were offering.

He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being cared for like this. For a moment, he closed his eyes, just trying to breathe, trying to let himself accept it. He let you guide him to the couch, moving almost mechanically, like he didn’t trust his own body to follow through on its own. His legs felt heavy, his heart even heavier, as he sank down beside you. He should have pulled away, should have put some distance between you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was like he was tethered to you, and that scared him. The kindness in your touch, in your voice—it was too much.

But at the same time, it was exactly what he craved, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

The room felt too quiet, too intimate, with the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The kind of quiet that made it hard to escape his own thoughts. He tried to look anywhere but at you, but it was impossible. His gaze kept drifting back, kept landing on the softness in your expression, the concern etched in your eyes.

His heart pounded harder in his chest when your hand moved from his cheek down to his chest, resting over his heart. The warmth of your palm was grounding, pulling him out of the haze of guilt and self-loathing for just a second. He could feel his pulse thudding beneath your touch, unsteady and anxious, as if his body didn’t know how to handle this closeness. He wasn’t sure how to handle it either.

He swallowed hard, trying to speak, to say something, anything, that would make sense of this. "You don’t have to…" he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but you just shook your head gently, stopping him before he could finish.

"I want to," you whispered, and your thumb brushed over his cheek one last time.

James clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to your hand on his chest.. He shouldn’t be here with you like this. He shouldn’t let himself feel anything for you. But he did. He had for a long time, longer than he wanted to admit. And now, with you so close, it felt like those feelings were crashing down on him all at once.

And then, his heart races as you suddenly—yet, gently straddle him, the warmth of your body pressing against his. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, your thighs clenching around his hips. It takes all his self-control not to buck up into your touch, desperate for more.

His trembling hands rest on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He hadn’t done that for so long, he doesn’t even remember how and where to place his hands. James wanted to explore your body, to map out every curve and crevice, but he’s frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare into your eyes. You lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips. He can smell the faint scent of your lipstick, a sweet and intoxicating aroma that makes his head spin. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place as if you might disappear if he lets go.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes dart down to your lips, watching as you wet them with the tip of your tongue. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

You press your forehead against his, your noses brushing, and he can feel the heat of your breath mingling with his own. "I want you," you murmur, and he feels the words reverberate straight through him, igniting a fire in his veins.

His hands slide up your sides, skimming over the thin fabric of your shirt. He can feel the heat of your skin through the material, and it makes him ache to touch you, to feel you naked and bare beneath him. He starts to pull your shirt up, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach, and you shiver in his arms. Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch.

He pauses, his fingers just beneath the swell of your breasts. He wants to go further, to explore the treasures hidden beneath your clothes, but he's suddenly uncertain. What if this is a mistake? What if he's just taking advantage of you? He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he sees is desire, raw and unchecked. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you.

Emboldened by your gaze, he continues to lift your shirt, revealing inch by tantalising inch of smooth, pale skin. He can't help but run his hands over your body, tracing the lines of your ribs, the soft swell of your breasts. You moan softly, pressing yourself into his touch, and he feels a surge of power and desire.

He wants to worship your body, to show you the depths of his desire. He wants to make you feel as crazy and desperate as he feels right now. But he's also terrified of ruining this moment, of pushing too far and losing you forever. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, his voice husky with need. "I'll give you anything."

You smile, a sultry, seductive look that sends a jolt of excitement straight to his core. "I want you," you repeat, your voice barely above a purr. "All of you."

He could feel the warmth of your core through the thin fabric of his jeans, and it sent a shiver down his spine. His hands instinctively gripped at your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, anchoring you there as he tried to make sense of the sensations coursing through him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice low and strained. "So fucking perfect."

He couldn't help but grind up against you, seeking more of that delicious friction. His cock was hardening rapidly, straining against the confines of his pants, aching to bury itself deep inside you. James knew this was wrong, that he should push you away and set things right. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when you were offering him such a tempting escape from his own demons.

Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle and sinew, before slipping under the hem of his shirt. The touch of your fingers on his bare skin ignited a fire within him, and he groaned at the sensation. James bucked his hips up against you, desperate for more contact. He needed you, needed this, needed to feel something other than the emptiness that had consumed him for so long.

He starts to grind against you, his hips moving in small, circular motions. The sensation of your clothed bodies rubbing together is exquisite, and he groans low in his throat as the friction builds. He can feel your heat through the thin fabric of his jeans and your skirt, and it's driving him wild.

Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and he can feel the heat of your breath on his face as you press your forehead against his. Your noses brush, but you never quite close the distance, never quite allow your lips to meet. It's maddening, this near-contact, and it makes him want you even more.

He continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The ache in his groin is becoming unbearable, but he pushes on, determined to make you feel good, to show you just how much he wants you. He can feel his erection straining against his jeans, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he can't hold back any longer. You moan softly, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the sensations. James takes advantage of the moment, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck. He nips and sucks at your skin, leaving a trail of marks that he knows will be visible in the morning. A thrill runs through him at the thought of you wearing his touch, of you bearing the evidence of his desire for everyone to see.

He feels your hands moving down his back, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. You explore the planes of his broad back, your touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He arches into your touch, a low growl escaping from his throat as your fingertips skim over the sensitive skin of his lower back.

James's heart pounds wildly in his chest as he feels your body pressing against his, your thighs straddling his hips. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he begins to grind against you. The sensation of your clothed bodies rubbing together is exquisite, and he can't help but let out a low, desperate moan.

You lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips as your forehead pressed against his. Your noses brush, but you never quite close the distance, never allowing your lips to meet. The forbidden nature of this near-contact only serves to heighten James's desire, making him ache for more.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking with need. "I can't... I need you."

You smile, a sultry, seductive look that sends a jolt of electricity straight through him. "Shh," you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. "I've got you. Just let go, and let me take care of you."

James nods, his face flushed with desire as he continues to grind against you. The friction is maddening, and he can feel his control slipping away with each passing second. He's desperate to feel your heat, your wetness, but he knows better than to push too far.

Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch. The pain is exquisite, and he moans louder, his hips moving faster, more urgently, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he can't hold back any longer. You whisper words of reassurance in his ear, your voice low and husky. "That's it, James. Give in to it. Let me feel how much you want me."

James's moans become whimpers as he loses himself in the sensations. He's never felt so desperate, so needy, so utterly consumed by desire. He wants you more than he's ever wanted anything. He leans in, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he breathes greedily in your scent. It's intoxicating, and he can feel his body responding to it, his arousal growing with each passing second. He continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more erratic, more uncontrolled. "I need you so bad," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, let me feel you."

You respond by pressing even closer, your body flush against his as you continue to whisper words of encouragement. "You're doing so well. Just a little longer, and then I'll give you everything you want."

James nods, his face contorted with pleasure and pain as he continues to grind against you. He's never felt so alive, so connected, and he knows that this moment will stay with him forever. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes him, he'll always remember the feel of your body against his, the sound of your whispering voice, and the overwhelming desire that consumes him in this moment.

James's body trembles with desire as he continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more and more erratic. The friction between your clothed bodies is unbearable, and he can feel the pressure building inside him, threatening to burst at any moment. Your reassuring whispers in his ear and the way your body responds to his touch only fuel the fire burning within him.

He's lost in the heat of the moment, consumed by the desire to claim you, to make you his.

With a final thrust of his hips, James reaches his climax, his body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over him. He cries out your name, his voice raw with emotion, as he spills his seed, soaking the front of his jeans. The sensation of his release triggers something within you, and you follow suit, your body convulsing with your own orgasm. You press your forehead against his, your noses still brushing, but never quite touching, as you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

James collapsed back onto the couch, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. For a brief, stolen moment, everything felt right. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, the lingering softness of your touch. But the quiet after was suffocating, and the reality of what he had done began to sink in like poison.

His mind started to race. What the hell have I done? The thought tore through him, a sickening knot forming in his stomach. The guilt hit him hard and fast, twisting deep inside. He’d crossed a line—no, obliterated it. This wasn’t what he was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to take, to use someone like this, least of all you. He was a broken man, ruined, and he didn’t deserve you, not your kindness, not your warmth. Nothing.

Without warning, he sat up, his body tense as if ready to flee, and he pushed you off his lap with a roughness that startled both of you. The suddenness of it left you blinking in confusion, your eyes wide with hurt. You stood slowly, stepping back, unsure, your gaze searching his face for some explanation.

“You should go home,” James muttered, his voice cold, hollow. The words barely escaped his mouth, strangled by the knot in his throat. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “This was a mistake. I don’t want to see you again.”

The air between you became icy, your confusion shifting to hurt, and then something else—pain. He could feel it, could sense the betrayal rolling off you in waves, but he couldn’t bring himself to look, couldn’t bear the sight of what he had caused. “James…” Your voice was soft, pleading, as if you were trying to understand, to reach him through the walls he was so frantically putting up.

“No,” he snapped, the crack in his voice betraying him. His hands trembled, his whole body rigid with the effort to keep himself from breaking down entirely. “Please.” His voice wavered, the raw emotion in it spilling out despite himself. “Just go. Leave me alone.”

Silence filled the room like a weight. You stared at him for a moment, your chest tight, the sting of tears building in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you didn’t understand, but the pain radiating from him, the sheer self-hatred in his voice, made it clear—he didn’t want you to stay. He was pushing you away, not because he didn’t care, but because he thought he didn’t deserve to.

With a slow, heavy sigh, you gathered your things, your movements deliberate, as if giving him one last chance to change his mind. You paused at the door, casting one final glance over your shoulder, hoping for something—an apology, a word, a look. But all you saw was his back, his broad shoulders hunched as if weighed down by the world. He didn’t turn around.

You bit your lip, fighting the tears as you stepped out, closing the door softly behind you. The echo of your footsteps down the hallway was the only sound that broke the stillness in the room. James remained where he was, standing frozen in place, his body shaking, not from desire but from the overwhelming torrent of emotions he could no longer suppress.

The moment the door clicked shut, James’s knees buckled, and he collapsed back onto the couch, his face buried in his hands. The tears came then, harsh and relentless, tearing through him like a storm he couldn’t escape. He hated himself—hated that he had let this happen, hated that he had hurt you. But most of all, he hated that he wanted you to stay. That he needed you to.

You’re doing the right thing, he told himself, even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve anyone. But even as he tried to convince himself of that, the emptiness swallowed him whole. He had pushed you away, and now he was left alone, drowning in the guilt and regret that would never let him go.

James sank deeper into the couch, his fingers digging into the soft materials as if trying to hold onto something—anything—that would ground him. But there was nothing. No Mary. No you. Nothing but the silence and the ghosts of his past. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he had saved you by pushing you away—or if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #silent hill 2 remake #silent hill james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #james sunderland x reader #smut #james sunderland/reader #x reader #female reader

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iambilliejeanok · 1 year ago

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Drabble

Baki Hanma x reader

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Warnings: 18+, overstim, dacryphilia, NSFW

“Shh sweet girl, am I hurting you?”, he asked, pausing from his mind numbing thrusts, one hand keeping your waist in place while the other wrapped around your neck, his warm breath brushing your ear as he spoke. “n-noo”, you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. “Then what’s the problem?”, he asked, the hand on your waist reaching to your front, searching for the swollen bean he was rubbing just a minute ago, his index and middle finger gently pinching the nub between them, before he began slowly rubbing your clit again with the pad of middle finger, using his index and ring finger to spread you out as much as they could.

Whining deeply, you squirmed against him, biting your lip hard when he started flicking your poor clit. “Tell me now”, he said, slightly pulling out of you before thrusting into you with high force to have you gasp, repeating his actions with his words. “Tell me”, but you couldn’t time uttering any words without whimpering or moaning, boarding a scream when he didn’t stop, rubbing your clit and thrusting into you at a rhythm that robbed you of any thought process. It only took a few more off these thrusts before you began squirting, Baki alternating to gently rubbing your clit faster, using all his fingers as he looked down to watch your fluids spray onto the already soaked bed sheets. “Ahhh, that’s it sweet thing”, he chuckled, talking to himself amidst your orgasm, knowing full on well that you wouldn’t be able to register any of his words.

Getting off your knees, you just had to kick the pillows in front of you, Baki easily pinning you against him as your body shivered, enjoying the feel of you helplessly squirming in his arms. But he did not have the patience to wait, looking for a dry spot on the bed to gently place you on your back, spreading your shaking thighs apart, hoping to make eye contact with you as he prepared himself for another round of his favorite part. One of your hands clawing at the sheets while the other sat over your mouth, your teeth gripping the skin on the side of your palm, something you did in the moment to try and relieve yourself of the overwhelming pleasure the orgasm brought you. Your eyes were shut tight, but shot open when you felt Baki’s warm mouth on your clit, tears flooding your eyes again as you began crying. Before he could even start sucking he separated his mouth from you, his face serious as he listened to you cry, finally making eye contact with you. “Are you asking for a spanking?”, he spoke, the expression on his face matched with the tone of his voice serious enough to intimidate you, shaking your head no as you also tried to speak, wiping the tears from your eyes quickly. “n-no b-bakii. I’m s-sorry”, you spoke, choking on your tears. “I’ll s-stop cr-crying”. “Okay angel”, he said, a smile on his face at your weak attempts too his yourself. “Tell me you want your clit in my mouth”, he spoke, and you couldn’t help the whine that left your lips at the sound of his tormenting words. Why did he have to be such a prick sometimes. “P-please…put your m-mouth on m-me”, you managed to say, making him smile your head falling back to succumb to the situation. And without waisting more time, he began sucking your clit, his tongue desperately exploring your dripping wet vulva, shoving the wet muscle inside of you, going lower to do the same to your anus, alternating between tongue fucking your pussy, your asshole, as well as sucking your clit.

Gripping his thick brown hair with your hand, the other gripping the sheets, your body shook violently from the sensation of all this stimulation, your throat dry as screamed and cried.

#baki smut #baki imagines #baki hanma #baki x reader #baki son of ogre #anime fanfic

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astarioffsimpmain · 2 months ago

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Cozy Up with: Raphael

[Autumn Photography by: coldoctober]

[Raphael Photography by: @tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Author's Note:

Most people wouldn't consider Raphael to be... well... "cuddly." But the cambion has his moments!

You shivered, still feeling the icy grips of death shooting through your veins as your body recovered from blood loss. You blinked, your sight fuzzy and swimming, and glanced around. Deep maroons and mahogany wood surrounded you. You were in a bed. The plush comforter had nearly fully enveloped you, and it would be difficult to move. Your muscles felt sore and stiff, and the weakness in your limbs was staggering. ‘What happened to me?’

“Ah, you've awakened at last.”

You knew that voice. Panic gripped you. Raphael. Had you died? Were you here to pay your eternal debt? What was he planning to do with you? You wriggled in the bed, moving so little that it caused your panic to rise and your heart hammered in your chest.

“Come now, Little Mouse, your body has not healed well enough to be thrashing about.” There was a tone of amusement to his rich, deep voice; he had you right where he wanted you.

“I-Is it time? Did I fail?” You stuttered quietly, your body slowly succumbing to your fate and relaxing back into the soft mattress.

“No. You have not failed yet.” The devil replied, walking to the side of the bed so that you could see his face. What you saw sent your thoughts spiraling wildly in confusion. He was in his human form, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face void of malice. He smirked at you, but it held no anger.

“I… I don't understand,” you said, watching his expression shift to one of bored indifference.

“Your companions were foolish enough to leave your scrolls in camp. You were dying, and I could not have my favorite client perish before our deal had been completed. I returned you to my House of Hope and remedied the matter. You now rest in my Boudoir.”

You blinked. He saved you? Gods, he really did want that crown. A bolt of icy cold ran through you all of a sudden, and you shivered violently, your teeth chattering with the sudden impact. “T-Thank you,” you muttered, curling into yourself to attempt to get warm.

“Fulfilling our deal is the only thanks I require, Mouse,” he replied, crossing his arms. You nodded, shivering again, and he let out an exasperated breath. “Mortals are so fragile,” he scoffed. You caught a glimpse of light in your peripheral vision and let your head flop back to the side to look at him. He had shed his human skin and was now in devil form. He stood at least three feet taller and red, leathery skin stretched over protruding veins, with massive bat-like wings dwarfing even his large frame.

He waltzed out of your vision, but moments later, you felt a dip in the bed on your other side. Your immediate reaction was to try to escape again, and you tried to wrench your body up and away from the devil, but with a single hand, he pushed you back down with ease. “Do try not to undo all of the effort I made in patching your feeble form back together,” he chided with some obvious annoyance, and you went limp immediately, thinking it better to let him do what he wants than to anger him in your current state.

He huffed in approval and pulled you back towards him. Only then did you realize how warm he was. Your cold body shuddered at the searing contact, and you let out an unintentional sigh. “Yes, that is the idea, Mouse.” He was amused again. You heard the lilt in his voice. Suddenly, a leathery wing covered you and enveloped you in warmth. His strong arm wrapped around your stomach, and he tugged you even closer, your chest meeting his. You laid your palms against him without thinking and hummed as the feeling began to return to your fingertips. You felt yourself dip into relaxation, all the soreness slowly leaving your muscles.

“Sleep,” the devil commanded quietly. “You will feel renewed when you wake.”

You nodded, too groggy to make any kind of protest, and nuzzled closer to the heat of the devil's skin. Belatedly, you noticed the smell of sulfur, subtly eclipsed by the alluring scent of cherries, sinking into you as you drifted into a peaceful, comfortable rest.

fin

Tagging: @knightofmight01 @micropoe10 @just-a-refrigerator @fanon-and-canon

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #cozy up #cozy up: raphael

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cherryheairt · 3 months ago

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saw a tiktok of a guy begging his gf to keep scratching his back whenever she paused it made me think of benjicot. I keep seeing kieran's tts hes so feminist bf coded

🪶

Dramatic

"Please?"

"No."

"Please." he begged.

Sighing, Rena complied with his plea and began her delicate movements once more. This had become a nightly routine since their wedding, when the couple were finally allowed to share their chambers–though that never stopped them from sneaking around before.

She liked to keep her nails shaped finely, slightly above her fingertips and well-cleaned. Benjicot discovered the benefits of her self-care one day when they both lie in bed, naked. His head was on her bare chest, content to listen to her humming while he was resting on the plush skin. Her nails dragged up and down his back, making him shiver almost violently.

When she paused, he groaned loudly, "don't stop."

Giggling, she continued her motions til he was asleep.

This had been going on for months. When the couple sat in bed after their coupling, knowing their nights were spent all to themselves instead of serving their house and Lord and Lady. Benjicot was weak to her touch.

Though, he hadn't always been so aware.

Her lashes, thick and long, were the result of oiling them before bed. Her hair, volumous and long because of the messages she worked on during her baths. Legs and arms smooth from concentrated shaving. Her unique floral scent, only present thanks to the perfumes from Dorne.

Many things went into a noble ladies' looks, though any unknowing man thought that it just came naturally. 'Just born pretty and smelling good,' was a common misconception in their life. Also, an excuse for the men to be the opposite.

Benji was one of the clueless ones, in awe of Rena's beauty and always complimenting her scent with his head shoved to her neck.

It was only after they married that he found out how long it took to get that way. He would be out of their shared bath for a half-hour, just watching dumbstruck as she razed her limbs. "You have to do this every bath?" He asked, wincing when he thought she might nick her leg.

Rena laughed, shaking her head. "Once a week, maybe."

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. He was only covered by his waist cloth, content with sitting in the bathroom until she was done. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." Benjicot said. "I won't mind."

She smiled up at him, grateful that he was he husband and not some ignorant old brute. "I know, I like my routines. It makes me feel pretty." Rena preened under his loving stare.

"You're always pretty." He declared with a soft kiss to her knuckles. He nearly leaped with joy when she stood, done with washing and shaving–only to deadpan when she slathered herself in scented oils outside of the bath.

Tonight was like all the previous ones, Ben insisting that he could not sleep without her tender massages. It had been a long day for both of them, both content to relax in their shared silence. Until she paused her motions to move potsitions.

For minutes at a time, she would scratch, wondering how he had not fallen asleep yet. He would moan whenever she paused, pleading desperately. "You won't die without it for one night, my love." She snorted quietly in the candlelit room.

"I might. How do we know that I won't?" He grunted, face deep into her smooth neck.

"My husband, killed not by the sword of a fearsome enemy, but by not getting enough attention from his wife." Rena sighed.

He nodded, smiling. "That will be put on my gravestone." They both laughed.

"You really can't sleep without it?"

"Truly." Benji answered.

"Hm. What if I couldn't sleep, would you not return the favor?" Rena asked, amused.

Benjicot answered by lifted his hand to her face, showing off his blunt calloused fingertips. "Gotta keep 'em short."

"Ah, yes. For swordfighting.' She mused.

"No, for you."

"Me?" Bemused, she glanced down at him, only to see his smug face.

"Gross, Ben." She said, through a poorly hidden laugh. Benjicot looked very pleased with himself as he wetly kissed her check, producing a dramatic 'pop!' sound.

"You weren't complaining earlier."

Rena shoved his face away, groaning at his boorishness. "Go to bed." She huffed.

"I will, once you scatch my back."

They held prolonged eye contact, neither backing down until Rena blinked accidentally. "Ha!" Benjicot cheered. "I win."

Rena rolled her eyes, knowing she couldn't argue with their years-long tradition. Any petty and unserious argument must be solved with a staring contest to swiftly end it, lest it be turned into a serious one.

She sat back once more, hair a mess around her when it scrunched into the pillow. Benji followed, laying right were he always did, on her chest. He sighed with content when she started moving her nails in patterns across his skin.

"Thank you, my love."

Rena hummed her response, kissing his messy hair goodnight.

#benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #hotd fanfic

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beybaldes · 1 year ago

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one single thread of gold tied me to you

sejanus plinth x gn!reader

masterlist

summary: Sejanus Plinth sits on the steps of the academy with you by his side. Things may be bad, but there are worse places you could be

warnings: NO relation between reader and snow I might die if I see another fic where reader is his twin (not that they aren’t good fics, they are so good!!! I just don’t look like him at all 😭😭😭 free me), little angst but mostly fluff, ONE use of y/n, hehehehehe i posses evil powers

an: okay I know Ive not posted in like forever but I saw BOSBAS and fell in LOVE 🥲 technically spoilers and won’t be 100% book/movie accurate im going with straight vibes for this one :D enjoy!!

Sejanus Plinth was never meant to cross your path, let alone take violent root in your heart. In every other universe he never left district two and you never bumped into him on the playground at 8 years old, wondering where on earth he must have come from. There wasn’t such a thing as a ‘new kid’ in the capital, and yet, you had found one.

Or rather, he’d found you. You’d been chasing Arachne Crane around the playground in a game of tag, too focused on trying to catch her and not focused enough on the tree root that stuck out of the ground in front of you. There’d been no time to react, but sweet, gentle, wonderful Sejanus Plinth had caught you by the arm, his grip so firm you’d had his fingerprints bruised into your skin for weeks after. But he’d saved you from scraping your knee against the ground, and he held you up until you’d steadied yourself, and then he’d walked away without a word. Arachne had disappeared from your sight and you were suddenly infatuated with the mass of brown curls that were walking to the far side of the playground; you felt as though you had no choice but to chase after him instead.

Shivering at the thought that in another life you’d befriended the likes of Felix Ravenstill or Festus Creed instead, you reached out for Sejanus’s hand between the tables the mentors were made to sit at to watch the games. Surprisingly, he was receptive to your touch, tightly interlocking your fingers and hoping it would provide him with more comfort then you both knew it ever could.

As Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, the capitals weatherman, began to introduce the game to viewers watching from the comfort of their homes, Sejanus’s grip on your hand only got tighter, his hands beginning to tremble slightly as the screen at the front of the grand room began to show the tributes entering the area. As images of the tributes being pushed, dragged and shoved into their starting places crossed the screen, your thumb ran across the back of his hand, hoping you could make the shaking of his clammy palm against yours stop.

Slowly the cameras in the arena moved their focus from the tributes waiting for the games to start, and instead zoomed in on Marcus, hung by his bloodied hands on the fallen debris caused by the rebel attack.

“Oh my God.” Gasping the words out, you couldn’t tear your eyes from the sight, and you would’ve held onto Sejanus’s hand tighter if you were still holding it. Instead his hand was torn from yours as he stood among the other mentors, flinging his desk and device across the room with a rage you’d never seen in him before.

“You’re monsters!” He cried, hands scrunched into fists by his side, tears filling his eyes as he addressed the room before him. Peers, Sejanus didn’t dare call them friends, and teachers alike stood in silence, refusing to feed into his outrage and refusing to speak against the regime they had been raised in. Though some of them had never known anything different then a life with the hunger games, it didn’t take anything more then a heart in your chest to know how wrong it was. Even if Sejanus hadn’t known Marcus from his time in district 2, he was the same age as him, he had a family and friends back home hoping he would return to them, he was a living, breathing person who shouldn’t have had to fight for his life because his name was drawn from a hat. “All of you!”

Sejanus stormed out of the room, and you would’ve been hot on his heels if Coriolanus hadn’t grabbed you, holding you to your seat. “Just wait.” You didn’t understand at first, furious that Coriolanus would try and stop you from going after Sejanus to see if he was okay, but as he silently pointed at Mr Flickerman, you understood. Following Sejanus should wait ten seconds while Lucky counted down to the official beginning of the Hunger games and you could sneak away unnoticed. While you were never particularly fond of Coriolanus Snow, you could appreciate his brain and how it ticked.

When the ten long seconds were finally up, you sprung from your seat, a whispered thank you to Coriolanus as you snuck around the outside of the seated mentors, all of whom were enamoured with the screen. As you left the building in search of Sejanus, you briefly worried he’d be nowhere to be found, having run far away from the academy in hope he could escape everything. However, he’d been quite easy to find, hunched over himself on the steps of the academy, his arms wrapped around his knees and curled into himself as his shoulders jumped with strained breaths. A part of you prayed you’d never have to see him like this again.

“Sejanus?” His head snapped to face you, furiously wiping away the frustrated tears that had rolled down his cheeks and forcing something that tried to be a smile on his face. A frown pulled on your lips as your met his eyes, quickly crossing the steps until you were beside him. “Oh, Sejanus.”

“Did you see what they did to him?” His voice trembled as he spoke, hiccuping in breathes as he tried to tell you what he was thinking, tried to nullify the crippling ache in his chest. With the escape of a whimper from the back of his throat, your hands came to cup his face, caressing his cheeks and simultaneously wiping away any tears that crossed your path. “What they’re doing to all of them?”

“I know, I know.” You cooed, knowing there was nothing you could do to change things. All you could do right now was make your Sejanus feel better, though you worried even your best wouldn’t be enough. “It is wrong and cruel, so, so cruel, and one day people will see just how right you are.”

“They won’t.” He scoffed, his eyes turning to stare at where his shoes met the ground, avoiding your gaze. “They think that this is life, that this is how things are. And no one else sees an issue with that, at least not here in the Capital.”

One of your hands turned Sejanus to face you, not allowing him to look away as you spoke, while the other fervently soothed his curls away from his face, hoping a combination of the two could begin to make him feel better.

“Thousands of people will have seen your outrage at the games tonight, and if even one of them has been affected by it, then you will have made a change.” Sejanus’s features softened as you spoke, and while you knew his boiling rage was only reducing to a simmer, and that at the end of the day it would still be inside of him, you knew that he was allowing himself to get through this moment with your help. “Rome was not built in one night. Change will come, it just takes time.”

Silence didn’t have the chance to settle. “Why are you so nice to me?” That surprised you. It didn’t seem like a question that needed answering and it didn’t seem like something Sejanus would ever ask you. It felt too obvious. “No one in the capital has ever accepted me as one of them, and yet, my own district won’t recognise me as theirs either. Most of the people at the academy don’t even acknowledge me, and sometimes I feel like Coryo only tolerates me, but you? You are nice to me, like now. You didn’t have to come out here, you chose to. Why?”

Strangely, you’d never been so scared. You couldn’t help but think that you’d said or done something to make Sejanus think that your friendship towards him was fake or conditional, but it couldn’t be further from it. How did you put into words how much you loved him for him, without saying it just like that? Plain and simple?

“You are kind, Sejanus. You don’t see a lot of that around here. From the very first day I met you you have been nothing but kind - not only to me but everyone around you, even when they didn’t deserve it.” Your hand against his hair had moved back down to his cheek, the gentle caress of your thumb against the apple of his cheek turning more and more loving with every word you spoke. “You bring your Ma’s sweets to share, even when they’re the ones you really like, you recite your favourite books to me just because you want to talk and you know I’ll listen, you stop me from going home with scrapped knees and grazed hands everyday, and-“

It was like you’d suddenly become dangerously aware of how close the two of you had got, not only physically on the steps of the academy, but in your friendship over the years. Maybe more then a friendship if either of you were brave enough to say it. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think about anything but his lips against yours. Removing your hands from his face and placing them neatly in your lap, you tore your gaze from his face and looked to the sunsetting sky. “Sejanus plinth, it seems I have grown quite fond of you.”

Sejanus placed two fingers beneath your chin, turning your face to make you look at him, like you had done just minutes ago. “I have grown irreversibly fond of you, y/n y/l/n.”

As Sejanus leaned closer to you, and you tilted you head so your nose would slot perfectly against his, a crowd of mentors came out of the academy, causing the two of you to jump apart. Sejanus looked more disappointed than you think you’d be able to get him to admit, and he stood from the steps almost instantly. “I have to go.”

If you’d been any less dazed by the almost kiss shared between the two of you, you’d have chased after him once more, but you found yourself frozen on the steps of the academy. Sejanus was going to kiss you. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d find the two of you in such a position once again and maybe that time your lips would actually meet.

A part of you is certain you don’t even know the boy exists in any other universe. And yet, you find that you would plead before the Gods themselves to have the fortune of knowing him in every one.

An: thank you for reading!! Would anyone want a part 2 about Sejanus going in to the arena and reader and Coriolanus teaming up to get him out? I might write it anyway lol but please give me feed back and let me know what you thought!! Mwah <333

part 2: I swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea out now!!

#beybaldes wrote a fic ??#beybaldes wrote a fic!!#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth oneshot #sejanus plinth imagine #tbosbas x reader

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atypicalamortentia · 7 months ago

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The Forest || Lord Voldemort

Synopsis - You're Harry Potter’s twin sister, and the scar on your forehead proved as a constant reminder of that but now, it was burning more than it ever had and you knew he was out there… watching you.

Warnings - NSFW. Dub-Con.

Notes - Characters are aged 18+!

Word Count - 3.6k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Leaves falling from the trees pepper the forest floor beneath your feet as you walked deeper and deeper into the abyss. You are Harry Potter’s twin sister, and the scar on your forehead proved as a constant reminder of that, but now, it was burning more than it ever had and you knew he was out there… watching you. A crunch of leaves came from behind you, and you twirled around on your heels quickly coming face-to-face with that pale monster from your nightmares. “Hello darling.” Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat as he sauntered over to you without a care in the world. The smell of smoke and leather was overpowering as he stood before you.

“What do you want?” Your voice faltered, your fear clearly evident both in your words and your face.

“Oh come now,” Voldemort smirked. “That’s no way to talk to your beloved, is it?”

“My beloved?” You asked, narrowing your eyebrows. The thought alone made you feel sick. Voldemort just chuckled at your question.

“Yes. Your beloved. You may not realise it yet, but you will.”

Your brows furrowed even more at his words, and the sheer audacity of them. He had tried to kill you when you were a baby and now he was calling you his ‘beloved’? You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, a little bit of laughter leaving your throat as you rolled your eyes. “What do you want?” You asked again, this time sounding more confident than before.

“You, of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice was laced with confusion and intrigue.

Voldemort took another long stride towards you until now he was right within your personal space. “I want you. I’ve come to take you, to make you mine.”

Your eyes widened yet again and you shook your head violently. “I will never be yours.”

“You must be naive if you truly think that,” Voldemort whispered, his voice low and husky, hitting your ear just right to send shivers up your spine.

“I’m not naive,” you spat.

Voldemort’s breath on your face was hot and overwhelming. Surprisingly, his breath smelt minty, almost as if he had been chewing on a mint moments before this encounter. He leaned into your ear, whispering. “Oh my dear, you’re more naive than you realise.”

The colour drained from your face as his breath fanned across your ear and cheek. He pulled away to stare into your eyes, his icy gaze bore directly into your soul and you couldn’t help but shudder in response. “You’ve been watching me,” you say to him after a few moments of silence.

“Watching you? Yes, I have been watching you, and for quite some time now.”

“Why?”

Voldemort began to circle around you, a tactic he knew would work to make your nerves shoot on edge the second his body left your line of sight. His hand rested on your shoulder and moved to the other almost gracefully as he walked around you. “You intrigue me, young Potter. You’re nothing like your brother.”

“We are different people,” you snapped, turning your head to finally follow his movements.

“I know that, my dear.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“And why should I?” He retorted.

“Because I’m not your ‘dear’,” you spat back.

“Not yet,” he grinned. His grin was toothy and it was enough to send even more shivers down your spine. Eventually, he reached the front of your body after completing a painfully slow circle around you and stopped dead within arms reach. “Tell me, Y/N, are you afraid of me?” You don’t even get a chance to say ‘no’ before he interrupts you. “Don’t lie to me.” Another gulp leaves your throat and all you can do is nod at him. You’d be stupid to say you weren’t afraid of Voldemort. He had been after you and your brother for the past 10 years. He grins widely yet again and reaches a hand out to tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear, making you shy backwards until you hit a tree. Voldemort stalked towards you, almost as if he were a cat stalking a bird, and placed both of his hands on either side of the tree right next to your head. He had you boxed in now. There was nowhere you could run, and if you tried he would surely make you suffer the consequences for even trying. A pale white hand with extremely long fingernails came up to cup your right cheek, bringing your face closer to his. His aroma was certainly something you hadn’t expected and it was almost intoxicating. You had to shake your head lightly to remind yourself that this man was a monster. And not just any monster, he was the Dark Lord. As if able to read your mind, Voldemort let out a dry chuckle from his throat. “It’s okay to give in to me, darling. Things would be a lot easier if you did.”

“I will never give in to you,” you snapped, moving your head away from his hand.

Voldemort sighed slightly, clearly disappointed with your answer. “Oh my love, you will.” His hand fell down from your cheek to your hip, holding you tightly with an iron grip. You winced at the slight pain in your hip from his hold and tried to break free, but to no avail. “Tell me, what’s going through that pretty head of yours right now?”

A hiccup threatened to erupt from your throat before you finally felt confident enough to answer the Dark Lord. “I’m thinking about how I could kill you right now.”

Another dry chuckle left Voldemort’s lips. “Kill me? Now, now, is that really necessary?” He still wore that annoying grin on his face and it was obvious that he wasn’t the least bit fazed by your threat.

“Necessary? Yes.”

“And what makes you think you could kill me, little one?” He asked, intrigue in his voice. You shrug lightly, unsure of how exactly you would kill him. You could use his own forbidden curse against him, but you were no Dark Witch. At your shrug, Voldemort laughed. A hearty laugh as if you had just told him the most hilarious joke. This frustrated you even more and you struggled against the grip he had on your hips. “You couldn’t kill me if your life depended on it.”

“I’d give it a good go,” you seethed through your teeth. Your eyes turned into little slits as your face scrunched up in anger.

“I could kill you right now, darling, and nobody would come to save you,” he threatened, his laughing coming to a halt. “Does anybody even know you’re out here? All alone?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. You shook your head ever-so-slightly. Of course nobody knew you were out in the forest, alone, in the dead of night. Voldemort grinned yet again and let one of his hands loosen their grip on your hip to retrieve his wand from the inside of his robe. Another breath hitched in your throat as he pressed the tip of his wand to your neck, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Your life was flashing before your eyes; all the mistakes you made, the bad decisions, everything. He laughed viciously as he saw the tears in your lower lash line. “Oh don’t be so dramatic,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Do you really think I would kill you?”

You blinked rapidly, snapping yourself out of your trance. With a wobbly voice, you responded. “Yes.”

Voldemort huffed; however, the tip of his wand remained pressed against your neck. “I’m not here to kill you. I told you, I'm here to make you mine.” At his words, he trailed his wand down your neck, across your collarbone and down the front of your blouse stopping just above the waistline of your skirt. His movements had been slow and seductive as he grinned down at you. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a heat pooling between your legs, that your body was betraying you at the evil man stood in front of you. “I can smell you,” he whispered huskily, inhaling the air around the two of you. “Your arousal. It smells so sweet.”

“I’m not aroused,” you snapped back, although you knew that he knew you were lying.

“Oh? You’re not?” He asked casually, another smirk forming on his face. “So if I was to dip a finger down your underwear now, you’d be as dry as a bone?”

“It’s called discharge,” you reply harshly. Voldemort just chuckled at this. He knew you were lying to his face, but he wouldn’t pull you up on it just yet. It was only a matter of time before you fell into his arms and he knew this. “What’s so funny?” You snapped.

“Nothing,” he smirked, waving a hand in front of your face. “I just find it… cute how naive you are.”

“I am not naive!” Voldemort continued his devilish grin at you, one of his hands still grasping your hips tightly while the other remained on his wand stationed just above the waistband of your skirt. He leaned in close to your right ear before nibbling at your lobe. Your breathing was now heavy as his teeth skimmed your skin, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Fuck. Why was your body betraying you? You felt a jolt of electricity surge through your body as his teeth continued to work at your earlobe, smirking at the noises you were making.

“You make such beautiful sounds, my love,” he whispered, pulling away from your ear slightly to look into your eyes. Immediately you looked away to the left, trying to force the slight blush that was rushing to your cheeks away, or trying to make it so the Dark Lord wouldn’t notice the effect he was having on you. Voldemort wasted no time in kissing your jawline, grunts of approval leaving his lips as your body buckled against his. “Keep making them for me.”

“N-No,” you manage to stammer out. The heat in your cheeks flushing down your body, settling into a dull ache between your thighs.

“No?” Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He pulled away from kissing your jaw for a moment to watch the expression on your face, one filled with confusion.

“No,” you repeat more confidently. You puffed your chest out, your breasts pushing against his chest. This action sent Voldemort’s mind into a spiral and his grip on your hip tightened.

He looked down at the tip of his wand resting just above the waistband of your skirt. “Take it off,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Take. It. Off.” Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights as his words processed in your brain. Your heart was hammering against your chest and for good reason. The Dark Lord was telling you to take your skirt off. You went to shake your head in protest, but his grip tightened further. “You don’t have a choice, sweetheart. Take it off.” Your hands shakily made their way to your skirt's waistband, thumbs hooking underneath before pulling it down hesitantly. His hand moved off your hip to give you the means to pull down the item of clothing. You looked up at Voldemort to see him staring at you with a predatory gaze, his wand now tucked delicately back into his robes. Once your skirt pooled at your feet, Voldemort wasted no time in turning you around so you were now facing the tree. Both of his hands now rested on your hips before he felt up your plump ass, squeezing your cheeks together in the palms of his hands. Mumbling something under his breath, Voldemort ripped your underwear from your body and allowed the tattered fabric to float silently down to the forest floor - your pussy now on full display for him to see. You cringed at the fact, and at the feeling of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs.

You wanted to scream, to shout for help, but when you opened your mouth no words were able to come. You found yourself wanting this. One of his feet nestled between your own, forcing your legs apart and ripping a gasp from your throat. Then, a pale slender finger made its way between your thighs, collecting some of your wetness before rubbing slowly at your puffy clit. Already, your knees began to shake. The feeling of pleasure already filling your body and the Dark Lord had barely even touched you. A chuckle brought you out of the little bubble you were in. “Ah, you’re singing so sweetly for me.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, pathetically attempting to close your legs.

Voldemort just laughed darkly in response, his foot staying firmly in place in order to keep your legs wide open. His finger strummed at your clit almost expertly, pushing you to throws of ecstasy that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Are you going to cum from this?” Voldemort asked, a shit eating grin on his face. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stop yourself from biting back a harsh response and instead just nodded. “Your pussy is so needy. I already know it’s pulsing for my cock.”

At his words, a cry of pleasure left your lips and your knees began to buckle beneath your weight. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave and tears of shame and pleasure fell down your cheeks. The Dark Lord continued his fingers' ruthless assault against your swollen clit until your moans came to a halt and he knew your orgasm had subsided. You were breathing heavily, hands spread out and palms digging into the bark of the forest tree you were facing as if holding on for dear life. You were about to move when you heard the unbuckling of a belt, and the zip of a zipper. Then you felt something heavy and hard pressed up against your ass cheeks. He was big.

Voldemort let his hand grasp the base of his large cock and positioned it at your soaked entrance. Without hesitation, or warning, he pushed the engorged head inside of your cunt forcing a moan to fall from your throat. He whispered praises into your ear as he slowly forced the rest of the inches inside your warm walls and came to a halt, politely giving you a moment to adjust to the foreign sensation invading your body. You took a shaky breath and nodded, giving the Dark Lord the go-ahead to continue. And he did. Mercilessly. His hips snapped against yours and it was as if the world had finally fallen into place for him. This was where he needed to be, forever. Voldemort’s hands grasped your hips tightly as he pounded against you, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside that had you seeing stars already. Nobody had ever fucked you this good, but you’d be damned if you’d say that out loud. “Fuck, you feel so tight,” he growled against your ear, nails digging into your hips. Surely there would be noticeable marks on your hips by the time he was finished with you. “I know you haven’t been fucked for a long time. You think I wasn’t watching you? This whole time, I’ve been in the shadows watching everything you do. Watching everyone you talk to.” At his words, your walls tightened even further, constricting around his cock. This told him everything that he needed to know: you were enjoying this. “Do you like that? The thought of me watching you?” He asked. You nodded your head pathetically, but Voldemort growled in response. “Use your words, my love.”

“Yes,” you gasped out, nails dragging down the bark on the tree in front of you.

“Good girl.”

His praise sent a shockwave through your core and you already felt your second orgasm approaching. You felt ashamed. Ashamed that the man who had tried to kill both you and your brother when you were just babies was making you cum. Ashamed that his cock was drilling in and out of your tight hole. Ashamed that you were loving every moment of it. One of Voldemort’s hands moved from your hips to cup your covered breast, bouncing with the force of his thrusts. He squeezed tightly, another moan slipping past your pursed lips.

“I-I can’t!” You cried out, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder.

Voldemort brought his lips to yours, smashing against yours and immediately slipping his tongue inside of your mouth. His tongue wasted no time in fighting for dominance and his hips never faltered, his rhythm almost out of this world. Your heart continued to beat out of your chest but the second his lips attached to yours, you felt it stop for a second. He groaned into your mouth as your cunt fluttered around his cock, signalling how close you were to your release. He kissed you feverishly, almost desperately before pulling away. A string of saliva connecting your lips. “You can’t? You can’t what, my sweet?” Voldemort asked, a dry laugh on the tip of his tongue.

“I can’t cum again,” you whimpered, your body already feeling as though it was going limp against his.

He continued to thrust against you at an ungodly pace, his cock threatening to spill his own release inside of you at any minute. “You can. I can feel it. Play with your clit,” he demanded. Almost immediately one of your hands fell from the tree in front of you to between your legs, playing with the throbbing bundle of nerves. The second your fingers touched the little bud, it was like a dam breaking. Your entire body shivered with the force of your orgasm, a cry-like scream of Voldemort’s name falling from your lips. Your cunt quivered around his cock, which in turn caused the Dark Lord to spill his seed deep inside of your womb without hesitation. “Fuck Y/N,” he growled, almost angrily. His hips continued to mash against yours, albeit slower, as his creamy cum filled you. Your eyes widened as you realised he had cum inside of you without warning you first, and rage filled your senses. When his cum had stopped pouring inside of you, Voldemort pulled out of you and took a step back admiring his spend which was already dripping from your tight hole. “You look so beautiful like this.” Voldemort used a hand to spread your ass cheeks apart to truly admire the mess he had made before zipping himself back up into his trousers. He tapped your ass cheek with the palm of his hand and grinned at you.

When he made no attempt to move, or do anything but look at you, you bent down to pick up your skirt and tattered underwear from the forest floor. Shame and fear bubbled in your gut. Now he had gotten what he wanted, was he going to finally kill you? You turned to look at him once you were decent again, taking note of the way he stared at you. There was a hint of an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t quite recognise. “So what? Are you going to kill me now?” You asked bitterly.

“Kill you?” Voldemort asked, snorting as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. You nodded your head in response. The Dark Lord shook his head. “No. You’re mine now and nothing can change that. You will meet me here again, tomorrow night. At the same time.”

Your heart dropped, and yet simultaneously beat quicker with excitement. Was this the beginning of a love between good and evil? “I will?” You asked, voice trembling.

“Yes, you will. And if you don’t there will be consequences, my love.” You didn’t even want to ask what the consequences would be. You knew with it being a threat from the Dark Lord himself that it couldn’t be anything good. You simply just nodded your head in understanding. “Run along then, my dear. But don’t forget, I’ll be watching you from the shadows. Don’t be telling anybody about tonight. I shall know everything.”

You nod your head and look towards the castle grounds before looking back at Voldemort, almost as if asking for permission to run off. When he nodded his head, you bolted for the castle, desperate to flop into your warm bed where you knew you would be out of harm's way. You hadn’t even gotten halfway to the castle and you could feel the warmth of the blankets smothering you. When you arrived back at your dorm, everyone was already asleep. It made it much easier for you to sneak back inside undetected and avoid the questions of “where have you been?”. You quickly pull on a pair of underwear, throwing your torn ones underneath your pillow to throw away in the morning and got into your comfiest pair of pyjamas. Your bed was so warm and welcoming after everything that you fell asleep almost immediately. When you woke up the next morning, your body was sore. You had woken up to being the only one left in the dorm room and took the time to inspect the countless fingermarks peppering your hips - they were certainly as clear as day, and you knew you couldn’t let anybody see them. There would certainly be questions as to who would leave such marks on you. But the main question was, would you rendezvous with Voldemort again as he had instructed?

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hd-junglebook · 7 months ago

Text

"Hey Sugar"

-said with rizz

Luke Hughes x F!Reader, Trevor Zegras x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist Link

a:n This has still remained my favorite gif of him, he's so perfect.

Warnings: throuple jumpscare, flirting, maybe cursing, suggestive flirting, nausea/vomiting, arguing

Summary: You and your close-knit group of friends, including Luke, are vacationing at the Hughes Lake house. During a dinner out, the sight of a fish dish causes you to become violently ill, leading to questions about what's going on.

Word Count - 4877

Part 2

You pretended not to see Maggy openly mime gagging at the two of you before falling in step with Trevor and Jess. Luke kept easy pace beside you as your mismatched band made their way towards the ramshackle building.

Perhaps it was the alcohol still thrumming warmly in your veins or the effervescent energy of the group, but you couldn't quite bite back the impish grin tugging at your lips. As you walked, you affected an exaggerated sway to your hips - very aware of Luke's heated stare searing into you from your periphery.

You didn't dare look over at him, fearful of what delicious torture might be simmering behind those eyes as dark as the sky around you.

Still, you couldn't resist reaching out to trail your fingertips along the firm musculature of his forearm as you sauntered past - a blatant tease that had his breath catching audibly.

By the time the five of you were settled at one of the plastic picnic tables scattered outside the bustling takeout counter, the dynamic had shifted almost imperceptibly.

What started as a silly lark with your nearest and dearest had devolved into outright cat-and-mouse flirtation between you and Luke.

Your friends, bless their oblivious hearts, were too caught up in their usual shenanigans to notice the escalating tension. Maggy and Jessica took great delight in heckling the poor teenaged cashiers over their "amateur" slushy techniques while Trevor tried valiantly to rein in the madness.

Luke, for his part, was a vision of ease - leaning back on the warped wooden bench with one arm thrown over the back in an effortless display of casual dominance.

You couldn't help but sneak sidelong glances at the hard ridges of his profile, at the way his worn Henley stretched deliciously across the broad span of his chest.

At one point, while Trevor was preoccupied with the drink orders, Luke must have caught you staring. His head swiveled infinitesimally, causing your eyes to meet and hold in a white-hot burst of awareness. One devilish brow inched higher as that knee-weakening half-smirk bloomed across his face.

"See something you like?"

The rough timbre of his voice had you suppressing an involuntary shiver. Rather than give him the satisfaction of a flustered response, you simply hummed noncommittally and dragged your eyes away with great effort.

That only earned you a rich chuckle as Luke inched imperceptibly closer, near enough for you to now feel the delicious burn of his body heat.

This continued teasing back-and-forth persisted until the food and drinks arrived - a riotous din of playful bickering over shared fry baskets and who was going to sample whose garish slushy concoction.

Luke, ever the easygoing rogue, watched the madness unfold with ill-disguised amusement, happily sipping a beer and indulging your friends' antics.

Despite their disruptive presence, however, the chemistry between you and Luke remained an undeniable force - a smoldering current arcing through the balmy sea breezes.

Simple things like the brush of his knuckles on your arm when reaching for a napkin or the searing weight of his hooded stare sent delicious frissons of electricity sparking through your nerve endings.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity lost in that heady tension, the revelry began to wind down. Maggy was the first to push back from the remains of your communal feast with an exaggerated belly pat and groan.

"Well, kids, much as I hate to call it a night...this former party animal needs her beauty rest," she proclaimed to the group at large.

Trevor heaved an overly dramatic sigh of relief. "Thanks be to God! I didn't know how much longer I could have hung on with you heathens."

Luke chuckled at that, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. You felt the brief brush of his shoulder against yours as he shifted slightly.

"No arguments here," he cut in easily, draining the last of his beer. "You guys ready to walk it off?"

The two of you exchanged a meaningful look that didn't go unmissed by Jessica - the astute blonde tracking the heated undercurrents with arched interest.

"Oh hell yes, we are WALKING this off," she piped up airily, rising from the bench and linking arms with Maggy and Trevor. "You crazy kids feel free to take the scenic route. We'll see you back at the house!"

And with that parting wink of insinuation, the three of them turned and struck out in the direction of the parking lot. You opened your mouth, intending to protest or at least offer parting sentiments, but Luke beat you to the punch.

"Don't even think about it, Sugar," he rumbled at your side, utterly unconcerned by your friends' ribald implications. "We both know where this is headed."

You felt your breath catch at the blatant flirtation as you turned to face him fully. Up this close, you could make out the poem of freckles smattered across the bridge of his straight nose, the faint laugh lines crinkled at the corners of those searing brown eyes.

Luke's nostrils flared almost imperceptibly as his gaze roamed over your features with unhurried intensity. You couldn't help mirroring the path, drinking in the sharp masculine beauty of him like a woman dying of thirst.

"Is that so?" you finally managed in a tone considerably breathier than anticipated.

Rather than answer directly, Luke reached out with one large hand to toy with a flyaway strand of your hair - allowing the backs of his knuckles to graze your flushed cheek in a scorching caress. You shivered at the contact, instinctively leaning into the calloused warmth of his palm as it cradled your jaw.

"We've been dancing around this all night," he murmured in that midnight rasp, holding your heated stare unblinkingly. "The flirting, the innuendos...you can't tell me you haven't felt this gravitational pull between us."

You couldn't have looked away even if you wanted - utterly transfixed by the molten promise in Luke's expression, in the exquisite agonies playing out behind those blazing irises. God, he was glorious like this - all simmering intensity and effortless masculinity.

Luke's thumb traced your lower lip in a feather-light caress, voice dropping to a hushed rumble. "I've got to know what those pretty lips taste like. Just this once, just to get it out of my system."

A tremulous whimper slipped unbidden from your throat at the naked yearning in his tone. In that heated breath, there was an ultimatum being issued - one you were powerless to refuse even if you'd wanted.

Taking his ardent silence as assent, Luke slowly began to close the scant distance between your parted lips...

…

1 year later…

The familiar crunch of tires over gravel roused you from your pensive reverie. You blinked rapidly, peering out the Uber's window to find the lake house's rustic facade coming into view. Your breath hitched ever so slightly as that old ache blossomed anew in your chest.

So much had changed over this whirlwind year, yet your relationship with Luke seemed suspended in a permanent holding pattern - all heated flirtation and vague intimations of something more without ever taking that fateful step.

You worried your lower lip, chewing the soft flesh as the driver killed the engine outside the small parking area. Was this just the way Luke operated? A permanent tango of push and pull without any lasting commitment? The prospect caused a leaden knot of anxiety to form in the pit of your stomach.

Drawing a fortifying breath, you gathered your things and slid from the backseat - offering the driver a tight smile of thanks. You were so preoccupied with the tangled mess of emotions, in fact, that you very nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Luke's rich timbre.

"Hey there, pretty girl! Need a hand with your bag?"

You spun toward the unmistakable rumble to find Luke loping down the porch steps, arms outstretched and that knee-weakening grin splitting his whiskered jaw. The warm spring sunlight gilded the artful tumble of his chestnut curls and cast his chiseled features in an almost ethereal glow.

He looked...outrageously beautiful, as always. The realization caused a fresh pang just beneath your breastbone.

Pasting on what you hoped was a convincing smile, you shook your head at his oferrit. "I'm good, but thanks for the rescue."

Luke reached you then in a few easy strides, folding you into a fierce embrace without preamble. You melted into the solid warmth of his broad chest despite yourself, muscles going lax as he cradled you against the firm plane of his body.

This was the rub of your torturous relationship - the dizzying highs of Luke's nearness juxtaposed with the maddening ambiguity of whatever it was you actually meant to each other.

For a few blissful moments, you simply held him close and drank him in...the clean, crisp scent of his cotton shirt, the scorching brand of his hands at your lower back, the reassuring thud of his heart against your cheek. Then, all too soon, Luke was pulling away with one final lingering squeeze.

"Jesus, I missed you," he rasped in that midnight timbre, holding you at arm's length for a beat as his searing eyes roved hungrily over your face.

You could only nod mutely, afraid your brittle composure might shatter completely if you attempted words. Luke seemed to sense the undercurrent of tension, however, if his slightly furrowed brow was any indication.

"Hey..." His calloused palm found your jaw, tilting your chin up to meet his molten stare unblinkingly. "You okay? Talk to me."

And just like that, the precariously constructed dam inside you fragmented - emotions bubbling up in a roiling torrent of longing, frustration, and bone-deep weariness.

"I...yeah, of course," you heard yourself rasp, hating how painfully unconvincing you sounded even to your own ears. "It's just been...a really long day, y'know?"

Some imperceptible shift occurred behind Luke's blazing irises at the vague admission. His achingly familiar features seemed to shutter ever so slightly as he regarded you with new intensity, as if truly seeing you for the first time in ages. When he spoke again, his deep timbre was laced with an undercurrent of flinty steel.

"I'm starting to get that feeling, yeah." His grip on your face tightened a fraction, forcing you to hold his potent stare as those beloved lips twisted into a rueful grimace. "Why do I get the feeling we've got some things to hash out this weekend?"

You opened your mouth, intending to deflect or make light of Luke's weighted remark. But his piercing gaze seemed to strip away any half-truths before they could take shape. A small sigh escaped your lips as candor won out.

“We won’t be Luke, I’m just a little tired from having to get up early,” you found yourself replying in a small, hoarse tone that brokered no argument. “Lets get inside.”

Luke simply stared at you, seeming to weigh the ramifications of your simple demand as he carded his fingers over your hair in an unconscious caress.

Finally, after what felt like an agonizing eternity, he exhaled a low rumble and gave a slight nod - the barest dip of his stubbled jaw. Pulling you flush against his solid frame once more, Luke pressed his lips to your crown in a lingering caress.

"You're right, Sugar," he murmured, the timbre of his voice vibrating through you. "They're waiting for you. Come on."

With that, Luke released you from the circle of his arms but kept one large palm anchored at the small of your back as he guided you towards the lake house's entrance. You felt the rigid tension slowly ebb from your shoulders at the familiar weight of his reassuring touch.

No sooner had you crossed the threshold than a raucous din of greetings assailed you from the open living area. Maggy, as always, was the first to barrel into you - her wildly curling hair a ruby cyclone as she enveloped you in a fierce embrace.

"Y/N! You made it!" she crowed into the crown of your head before releasing you with an exaggerated sniff. "And you didn't get mauled by any psychopathic Uber drivers this time. Progress!"

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly at her typical dramatic flair, unable to repress the grin tugging at your lips. "Living on the edge as always, Mags."

Before you could so much as draw another breath, Jessica was sweeping in for her turn - golden tresses shining like haloed silk as she squeezed you tightly.

"We missed you, girl!" The familiar sugary lilt of her voice washed over you like a balm as she rocked you gently. "This lakehouse is way too quiet without your laugh."

You savored the simple intimacy of their warm embraces for a few beats, feeling the last lingering tendrils of fatigue dissipate. God, you'd missed these beautiful disasters more than you could have fathomed.

It was only when you turned to find Trevor hovering awkwardly nearby that the breath caught in your throat. The sweet, teddy bear-ish man seemed to have only grown more handsome in your weeks apart - his warm hazel eyes crinkling endearingly behind those thick-framed glasses as he flashed you a lopsided grin.

"Well don't just stand there gawking, Trevbear!" you teased, the old nickname rolling effortlessly off your tongue as you closed the distance between you. "You know the rules."

Trevor's unassuming features stretched into a radiant smile at that. Without hesitation, he swept you up into one of his patented, all-encompassing bear hugs - the kind where he lifted you clean off your feet and spun you in a dizzying circle amid a chorus of bright laughter.

As your arms wound instinctively around his broad shoulders and the familiar, comforting scent of his woodsy cologne enveloped you, you found yourself momentarily awestruck.

In the span of a few whirlwind revolutions, the simplicity of Trevor's affection seemed to unlock something profound in your heart - an awakening of sorts.

This...this was what you'd been sorely lacking all these months. Not torrid flirtation or vague promises of something more, but the purest expression of unwavering friendship and acceptance.

The utter certainty that no matter how frazzled or lost you became in this haphazard journey called life, your people would always, always be there to catch you.

By the time Trevor carefully set you back on your feet, his concerned hazel eyes were scanning your features intently.

"You good, kiddo?" he asked, endearingly casual timbre laced with the faintest hint of confusion.

You could only nod mutely, blinking back the telltale prickle of grateful tears as you disentangled yourself from his solid embrace. Allowing your eyes to roam over each of their familiar faces, you felt your heart swell almost painfully.

"I'm good, Trev," you said at last, aiming for a confident smile despite the quaver in your voice. "I'm home."

...

Later that evening, the decision was made to venture into town for dinner at one of the local restaurants. The drive there held its own sort of anticipatory energy - luke's rugged Mustang growling along the sleepy rural roads as your mismatched crew chattered and bantered amidst peals of laughter.

You found yourself wedged into the front seat beside Luke, the occasional brush of his denim-clad thigh against yours sending tiny frissons sparking beneath your skin.

Maggy, Jessica and Trevor bickered good-naturedly in the backseat like rambunctious children, leaving you and Luke to share sidelong glances and suppressed grins.

"So," Luke began at one point, deft fingers toying with the radio dial before settling on a grungy classic rock station. "How long you think it'll be before those three idiots finally make it official?"

You shot him a confused look as The Black Keys thrummed from the speakers. "Make what official?"

Rather than respond outright, Luke simply cocked one brow meaningfully and jerked his chin towards the reflection in the rearview.

You followed his gesture to find Maggy and Jessica sandwiching Trevor between them - a trio of tousled heads bent together in secretive whispers and muffled snickering.

Comprehension blossomed like a slow dawn, your eyes widening almost comically. "Oh? Oh! You mean like...an official throuple situation?"

The answering rumble of Luke's laughter was rich and gravelly, the sound seeming to reverberate straight through to your bones.

"That's exactly what I mean," he confirmed with a salacious wink. "I'm giving it til the end of the week before they just say 'screw it' and start swapping fluids."

You couldn't help but dissolve into unbridled giggles at that delightfully crass remark - shoulders shaking with mirth as you aimed a ineffectual swat at Luke's rock-solid bicep.

"Oh my god, you're disgusting!" you managed to gasp out between peals of laughter. "Also...probably not wrong though."

That merely earned you another of Luke's knee-weakening smirks, the dimple in his stubbled cheek winking roguishly. "That's why you keep me around. For my sparkling wit and insight."

With a derisive snort, you shook your head and turned your attention back towards the darkened scenery whipping past - though you couldn't quite bite back your answering grin. Luke was far from wrong in his assessment, after all.

You'd been witness to the slow-burn flirtation brewing between the three of them for years now. What had started as harmless overfamiliarity had slowly, inexorably blossomed into something richer and infinitely more layered.

The lingering caresses, the heated glances, the borderline inappropriate innuendos...it was only a matter of time before that tension combusted into actualized desire.

Hell, you mused as your gaze drifted to the rearview mirror once more, they were practically daring you to acknowledge the elephant in the room with their shameless canoodling. Perhaps a small part of you even envied their easy intimacy - the utter certainty with which they seemed to fit together, like corresponding pieces of a larger whole.

Your idle reflections were interrupted as Luke suddenly merged onto the main drag, the quaint storefronts of the town's center materialized amid a warm glow of streetlamps.

"There's that new Italian place," he said by way of explanation, gesturing with a tilt of his stubbled jaw.

A raucous cheer erupted from the backseat at that, with Maggy crowing her emphatic approval. "Oh hell yes! I could demolish some fettuccine alfredo right about now."

You shot Luke a bemused grin and shrug, to which he simply laughed and signaled towards the cramped parking lot adjacent to the restaurant.

By the time the Mustang's twin exhaust pipes had quieted to a purr, you were all piling out onto the sidewalk amid a fresh bluster of conversation - Luke's steadying palm finding the small of your back as per usual.

Once you gained entry, the welcoming aromas of garlic and tomato sauce seemed to envelop you like a well-worn blanket. Stepping inside revealed an intimate but boisterous space - a cacophony of lilting Italian pop competing with the clatter of dishes and lively chatter.

Before you could so much as blink, your mismatched crew had been whisked away to a cozy booth tucked in the back corner. You settled onto the worn burgundy leather with a contented sigh, ceding to Luke's gentle insistence as he ushered you towards the innermost seat.

The following two hours seemed to blaze by in a whirlwind of laughter, familiar ribbing, and outrageously embellished stories. Courses of piping hot breadsticks, caesar salad, and copious glasses of reasonably-priced Chianti made their merry way around your table amid riotous pow-wows.

Even Trevor seemed to be in exceptionally high spirits - regaling your crew with the increasingly risque exploits of his latest Dungeons and Dragons characters between enthusiastic pulls from a basket of garlic knots.

"So this tavern wench is laying it on thick, right?" he crowed through a mouthful of doughy bread. "Like she's practically undressing me with her eyes while I'm just trying to order a pint!"

Maggy cackled indelicately beside him, idly tracing patterns along the sloping musculature of his forearm as she savored the tale. "Of course she was, Trev! She could smell your virility from across the room."

"Damn straight!" Jessica chimed in from your other side with a shameless leer. "We've all witnessed the raw, animalistic power of your lovemaking firsthand."

A sudden spray of Chianti fountained from Trevor's lips as he dissolved into a spluttering cough - eyes bulging comically behind his smudged lenses. You couldn't help but join in the chorus of bright laughter at that, instinctively reaching over to pat his broad back through the fit.

"You three are utterly incorrigible tonight," he managed once he'd recovered, attempting in vain to dab at the red wine stains blooming across the front of his pale blue button-up.

"Hey, we're just being supportive girlfriends!" Maggy countered with an impish flutter of her lashes.

There it was again - that playful acknowledgment that seemed to take on deeper intimations the more the wine flowed freely. You found your eyes instinctively tracking towards Luke, curious to gauge his response to the escalating flirtation.

To your mild surprise, the roguish sparkle in his eyes and the uptick of that damnable half-grin spoke volumes. He clearly took no issue with their blatant suggestions, instead leaning back with his powerful forearms splayed casually to either side.

As if feeling the weight of your speculative stare, Luke cocked one brow meaningfully before lifting his wine glass in a subtle toast of acknowledgment.

The blatant understanding in that singular gesture caused a small thrill to ricochet through your nerve endings. Maybe he wasn't so far off in his earlier prediction after all...

...

Any further musings were interrupted as your waiter finally reappeared with your entrees balanced precariously on a burdened tray.

You watched with detached amusement as he carefully maneuvered the steaming dishes onto the table - a mouthwatering array of hearty pastas and artfully arranged proteins.

Luke's meal - the rigatoni alla vodka - landed first with a dull clatter directly in front of him. You had to actively resist the urge to lean over and inhale the rich, creamy aroma wafting from his plate as he murmured his thanks.

Trevor's gargantuan meatball parmesan followed close behind, causing the table to groan beneath its considerable heft. Then came Jessica's margherita pizza...

Finally, with tremendous care, the waiter settled Maggy's order immediately across from you. You watched with detached interest as he arranged the dish, unaware of the delicate porcelain plate's contents until the very last moment.

Then, like a swift upending of your stomach, realization struck in one sickeningly potent wave - immediately wiping the contented smile from your lips.

There, nestled in a delicate swirl of cauliflower puree and roasted fennel, was a glistening fillet of some indeterminate white fish - the pearlescent flesh gaping in a grotesque mimicry of a gasping maw.

You must have paled several shades because Luke immediately tensed beside you - his scorching palm finding your knee beneath the table in a steadying grip.

"Y/N? You good?" he murmured beneath the din of Maggy's enthusiastic compliments towards the waiter.

But you couldn't bring yourself to respond, every survival instinct flatlining beneath the sudden onslaught of visceral nausea roiling in your gut. Your jaw clenched spasmodically as you struggled to contain the rising tide of revulsion, to maintain some semblance of composure.

When that failed, you had no other recourse but to abruptly shove away from the table and make a beeline for the bathroom - Luke's urgent calls and the concerned eyes of your companions quickly receding in your peripheral vision.

…

The bolt slammed home seconds before you crumpled onto the mercifully cool tile, hands braced against the sides of the stall as your stomach clenched painfully. A strangled groan tore from your throat just before the first wave of nausea broke.

"Occupied!" you managed to grumble out between convulsive retches, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the slick porcelain.

Each spasm seemed to tear through your abdomen with white-hot lances of agony until, finally, you were left shuddering and empty - forehead beaded with a clammy sheen of sweat. You heaved in ragged gulps of air, throat feeling savagely raw and abused.

Only then, in the fragile lull, did the confusion begin to set in.

What the hell was that? You'd felt absolutely fine mere moments ago - happily indulging in the warm cocoon of friendship and frivolity. So where had this sudden, debilitating bout of nausea sprung from?

You racked your muddled brain, trying in vain to isolate any potential causes as another unpleasant roll of queasiness settled in your roiling gut. Had it been something you'd eaten recently? No, you realized with a jolt, you hadn't consumed anything substantial since well before your flight that morning.

Maybe it was the start of a stomach bug then? That seemed the most plausible explanation, despite the utter randomness of it all. Except...you reasoned shakily, wouldn't there have been some sort of discernible build-up to indicate you were getting sick?

Before you could ponder it further, another series of convulsions doubled you over - this time accompanied by the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door creaking open. You stiffened, straining to hear over the tortured gurgles issuing from your abused stomach.

"Y/N?" It was Jessica's sugary lilt, muffled but recognizable. "Babe, are you okay in there?"

You opened your mouth with every intention of reassuring her, or at the very least calling out that you were still alive. But the words shriveled into an anguished moan as another piercing cramp lanced through your tender abdomen. There was a pregnant pause on the other side of the stall door, followed by your friend's increasingly worried tones.

"Y/N? I'm coming in..."

The latch rattled precariously as Jessica shouldered her way inside, wisps of honeyed hair filtering through the crack first. You tried weakly to protest - to summon some semblance of dignity or determination to be left in peace.

But then her stunning features swam into view, and the flimsy pretense shattered beneath the naked concern etched into those delicate features.

"Oh sweetie..." Jessica breathed, all traces of her usual saucy bravado evaporating as she dropped into an urgent crouch beside you.

One slender hand immediately found the damp nape of your neck, fingers soothing over your flushed skin as her brow furrowed. You could only manage a pitiful whine in response, too consumed by the roiling anguish to formulate actual words.

"You're clammy as hell," she murmured, mostly to herself as her free hand roamed over your forehead and cheeks. "What's going on? Did you eat something that messed with your stomach?"

You shook your head weakly, too mortified to fully engage the line of questioning. What could you possibly say? That the mere sight of Maggy's half-eaten fish fillet had sent you into a full-body revolt? Just the memory of those dead, glassy eyes staring back at you had your gorge rising anew...

Unable to bite it back this time, you lurched forward with a guttural retch - every muscle straining as another vicious bout assailed you. Dimly, you registered Jessica's comforting murmurs and the soothing strokes along your trembling shoulders. But even her tender consolations couldn't prevent the piercing embarrassment from seeping into your churning gut.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the punishing waves subsided into a queasy lull. You sagged back against the damp tiles, boneless and utterly spent as you sucked in ragged gasps. Jessica immediately moved to cradle you against her side, slender fingers sifting through your damp tresses.

"Better?" she asked once your breathing had steadied somewhat, brow still furrowed.

You could only manage a feeble nod, still stunned by the ferocity of the episode. Jessica seemed to sense your mortification because she leaned in to press a consoling kiss to your clammy temple.

"Don't even trip, babe," she soothed in that sweet, maternal tone. "We've all been there. The last time I got hit with food poisoning was no damn joke."

The tender gesture, coupled with her easy reassurances, seemed to thaw some of the icy tendrils of shame entangling your gut. You found the residual strength to curl gratefully into her slender form, savoring the simple comfort of her embrace.

How long the two of you remained like that - tangled on the gritty bathroom floor in a silent cocoon of commiseration - was anyone's guess. But eventually, the faint murmurings from the other side of the door reminded you that the rest of the world still existed beyond your misery.

"You think you can stand?" Jessica's query was gentle, implied concern lacing her sugary soprano.

With extreme effort, you managed a slight incline of your head. Jessica didn't seem convinced, however, because she shifted to disengage herself before carefully maneuvering to her feet.

"Come on, sweetie," she urged, stout hands finding your elbows and tugging insistently. "Let's at least get you off this nasty ass floor and cleaned up a bit."

Too wrung out to protest further, you allowed Jessica to coax you upright - every muscle screaming in exertion. She looped a steadying arm around your waist as you swayed perilously. Then, with exaggerated care, she began leading you towards the sinks.

…

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zombieplaygrounds · 6 months ago

Text

cw: uhh sex, rough sex? teasing? begging? im doing my best :( bare sex, good sex, bad sex. this shits 18+ yo

Unfortunately for you, you were in love with a very mean man. The kind of man who fucked you, so sweetly, so perfectly - made you whine and mewl his name like a heated pup. Toes curling as your knuckles lost their flushed hue from the sheer grip you had on whichever surface you were pressed again. And his name, his name was

"Phillip.." Your voice was nothing but a warm, breathy rasp against the arm he wrapped around you. His opposing hand gently keeping a firm hold around you, stabilizing your body while you trembled; violent shakes of overstimulation. Quiet, hiccuped gasps following each thrust he pressed into you. Balls deep and greedy, your panties tugged to the side just enough to expose your drooling cunt, soft fabric darkened with grool and sin.

"Mmm?" A grunted, maybe even growled response. So fixated on the way your cunt squeezed him, needy squelching with juices drizzling down your inner thigh, creating glistening webs of passion, heat, and love. You could feel it in your stomach, could feel it bruising your cervix with each collision of his pelvis against your ass. So humiliating, so degrading, so delicious.

He could hear your suffering, your pain, your need; and it only forced him to go faster. Enough for you to stare at his reflection in the sink's metallic finish - to stare at him like you loved him. His scrunched face and steely glare of lust. Vision blurred, throat sore, your eyes rolled backwards, feet helpless kicking as you tried to squirm away from the knot tying inside. "Hurts.."

"Does it?" Graves chuckled breathily, eyes softening as he met your gaze in the reflection. He eased a bit, hand grabbing the back of your hair to raise you, introducing you to a sweet kiss placed behind your ear. "Good."

As quickly as the sweetness arrived, did it diminish. His grip abandoned your pretty locks, dragging to graze across the back flesh of your shoulders, bruising bite marks scattered all across. He promised not to leave mark on you, to just fuck you real nice and gentle, something to help you sleep before he left. But Graves was anything but truthful.

A doggish man with nothing but greed and lust for you. Could see the arrogant grin on his lips while he began keep a quick, pace, still remaining deep enough to admire the way your cream glazed his cock in a glistening shine.

Just as you were seeing constellations on the wall before you, Graves stopped his relentless thrusts, stopped his aching punishment to your poor cervix. His hands massaging your sensitive flesh, earning a shiver, a whine, a mewl. "Ohh, someone's upset?"

"Come now, baby, I know you can beg." Your eyes prickled with tears as he held your hips to prevent a little wiggle of your ass for stimulation. So desperate, so close. And he was abandoning you? Your mind was filled with curses for him, how he was a fucking bastard, how he always teased you when you needed him most.

Cute tears dripped down your cheeks, which he gladly licked away, kissing the bottom lash line of your eyes. "Oh poor baby, you're so upset, huh?"

Graves knew what he was doing - hes a pro, baby. Grinding and rocking his hips just enough to tease you, rubbing himself into you enough for your swollen clit to send aching signals to your tummy and legs.

"Please..pleaseee.." You breathily begged, melting into him for more support, comfort, love. You really needed him. And of course, Graves giggled, not taking your soft plea serious enough. Still, he rewarded you, adjusted you to press against the cold counter rather than his warm hand, bracing your pretty body to be roughly fucked. Pleasantly so, surprised gasps escaped your mouth while he pounded relentlessly. A little reward for Graves, to earn vulgar sounds from that whore mouth of yours.

He himself, growled into the exposed flesh of your back, kissed along your spine because - fuck, you felt so good.

And the pleasure you chased was too good, enough for you to tolerate ignore his milky finish in your fertile womb. Pressed into you as he shivered, growled, panted.

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galaxysupreme17 · 3 days ago

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Storm’s Fury

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

The storm rolled in with a vengeance, dark clouds swirling over Westview like an ominous shroud. The wind howled, shaking the branches of the old oak trees lining the street. Flashes of lightning illuminated the darkening sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance like a brewing argument.

Upstairs, Y/n was sprawled across her bed, her textbook open and a notebook balanced precariously on her lap. She tapped her pen against her lips, staring at the same line for what felt like the hundredth time. The storm outside was distracting, but not in a bad way. She’d always found comfort in storms—the way they seemed to wash the world clean, their sheer power a reminder of nature’s force.

Still, this one was louder than usual. The first boom of thunder startled her, and she glanced toward the window. The wind whipped the trees violently, and the first raindrops began pelting against the glass. She sighed and reached for her phone, snapping a quick picture of the brewing chaos outside.

Y/n: "Looks like the apocalypse out there. Power bets?" Rio: "Ten bucks says it’s out by dinner." Agatha: "It’ll last. I have faith in this town's ancient wiring." Y/n: "Famous last words."

She laughed to herself, putting the phone down and returning to her notes. The storm was growing louder by the second, and the flicker of her desk lamp didn’t inspire confidence in the power grid. A particularly loud clap of thunder rattled the window, and she groaned.

“Fine, universe, I’ll take a break,” she muttered, snapping her book shut.

Downstairs, the kitchen was alive with the sounds of chopping and sizzling. Agatha moved with practiced precision, her hands deftly preparing eggplant parmesan. The kitchen smelled heavenly, a mix of roasted tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil filling the air. She was muttering to herself, half a spell and half an argument with the stubborn cheese that refused to grate the way she wanted.

“Talking to yourself again?” Rio teased, leaning against the counter with a mischievous smirk.

Agatha shot her a look but didn’t pause her movements. “I’m talking to the cheese, actually. It’s being uncooperative.”

Rio laughed, sauntering closer and slipping an arm around Agatha’s waist. Her fingers danced absentmindedly over Agatha’s side, earning a soft shiver. “Want me to hex it for you?”

“No,” Agatha replied, her tone exasperated but fond. “I’ll manage, thank you.”

“You always do,” Rio said, kissing Agatha’s temple and lingering there momentarily before resting her chin on Agatha’s shoulder. Her free hand slid down, resting lightly on Agatha’s hip.

Agatha sighed but leaned into the touch. “You call stealing mushrooms off my cutting board ‘helping’?”

Rio grinned, plucking another piece of roasted mushroom and popping it into her mouth. “I call it quality control.”

“Thief,” Agatha muttered, though her lips twitched into a small smile.

Just then, Y/n appeared in the doorway, her socks sliding slightly on the polished wood floor. “Smells amazing in here,” she said, dropping her phone on the counter.

“Don’t encourage her,” Rio said, though her eyes sparkled affectionately.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Agatha announced, sliding the baking dish into the oven with a flourish. She wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face her daughter. “How’s the studying going?”

“It’s not,” Y/n admitted, leaning against the counter. “Too noisy.”

“Excuses,” Agatha said with mock sternness. “I studied through blizzards in Salem.”

“You didn’t have Wi-Fi back then,” Y/n said, grinning.

“Touché.” Agatha grabbed a spoon and stirred a pot of marinara sauce simmering on the stove.

Once the food was ready, the three of them settled at the dining table, their laughter and conversation filling the room as the storm continued to rage outside. Agatha served generous portions of eggplant parmesan, the melted cheese bubbling perfectly on top.

“This,” Y/n said around a mouthful, “is ridiculously good.”

“Of course it is,” Agatha replied with a smirk. “I made it.”

“You’re insufferable when you’re right,” Rio said, though the way her hand found Agatha’s on the table suggested she didn’t mind one bit.

The storm intensified as they ate, the wind howling like a living thing. The lights flickered once or twice and then went out completely, plunging the house into darkness.

“Called it,” Y/n said, reaching for her phone to use as a flashlight.

“Don’t worry,” Agatha said, waving a hand. Purple orbs of light appeared above the table, casting a warm glow over their faces.

“Show-off,” Rio teased, nudging her wife.

“Practical,” Agatha corrected.

After dinner, they moved to the living room. This time, Rio took charge of the fire, crouching by the hearth. Agatha sat on the loveseat, tucking her legs under herself as she watched Rio with a soft smile. When Rio finally lit the fire, she stood, dusting her hands off theatrically, then settled beside Agatha. Her arm draped lazily along the back of the loveseat while her other hand rested on Agatha’s thigh.

Y/n glanced up from her blanket cocoon on the couch. “Gross,” she muttered, though her tone lacked any real disdain. “Seriously, do you two have a switch, or is it just constant?”

“It’s constant,” Rio said with a smirk, squeezing Agatha’s thigh for emphasis.

Agatha chuckled. “She’ll understand someday.”

“Doubt it,” Y/n quipped, pulling her blanket over her head.

“Let her sulk,” Rio whispered, leaning closer to Agatha, their foreheads almost touching. “More time for us.”

“You’re impossible,” Agatha replied, though she didn’t move away.

“Gross!” came Y/n’s muffled voice, earning a round of laughter from her mothers.

Eventually, the storm’s noise became more of a background lullaby. Y/n yawned, her phone slipping from her hand.

“Tired already?” Agatha asked softly.

“Maybe,” Y/n mumbled. “Can I sleep in your room tonight? Just… for the storm?”

Agatha smiled gently. “Of course, darling.”

The three of them went upstairs, Y/n trailing behind with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. They piled onto the bed in the bedroom, Y/n snug between Agatha and Rio.

“Goodnight, my loves,” Rio murmured, her voice soothing against the raging storm.

“Goodnight,” Y/n whispered, already half-asleep.

Although the storm continued to roar outside, inside the Harkness-Vidal home, everything was calm, warm, and safe.

#x reader #reader insert #agatha x daughter! reader #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x daughter!reader #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha all along season 1 #agatha harkness x daughter!reader

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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The Perfect Day (smut)

Xaden Riorson x f!Reader

A/n: no thoughts just Xaden 🥰 also this is a Dain Aetos account he is truly the worst and I wish that man nothing but awful things. Also I’m so sorry if this is awkward I’m new to smut

My requests r still open!

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink (18+ only please minors dni), light choking

You noticed that Xaden seemed happy today. And he was. Because he was having a really good day. Like the perfect day. Which was rare to have at Basgiath. Between all the constant death and intense training it was hard to find someone in the school that was happy.

You started picking up on his good mood when you met him before breakfast. He was clingier than usual, but you weren’t complaining. Usually between training and classes you didn’t get to see each other much during the day. Today though, you got to see him 3 times.

During your third meeting he told you he had good news, his version of it anyway but who were you to kill his good mood. “I reworked the training schedule with leadership this morning and I made it so Garrick and I were training your squad after dinner.” He was so excited it was adorable. Who got excited about training?

The rest of the day went by without any issues. It was actually a pretty good day for you too. After dinner you headed to the training room. You were sparring with Liam and having far too much fun. You blamed Xaden, his good mood was infectious.

Dain, however, was not one for joking around when it came to sparring. He always had a stick up his ass and was far too serious. It wasn’t a secret that Xaden and Dain didn’t get along. They’re two different people who will never see eye to eye.

Liam was circling you on the mat. He charged at you, you dropped and rolled out his way. Laughing, you dive for Liam’s legs, knocking him flat in his back. You looked at each other and broke out into a fit of laughter. You hear heavy boots approaching you, as the pair of you look up you’re greeted with Dain scowling at you.

“If you two don’t start taking this shit seriously-“ “Or what Aetos?” Xaden’s voice echoed across the room. In a few strides he was standing toe to toe with Dain. You and Liam stood giving the two brooding men space in case they got violent with each other. Liam tried to push you behind him, but you brushed him off. Xaden would never hurt you.

Xaden towered over Dain, smirking he continued, “What Aetos? They can’t let loose once in a while? They’re the best we have, they’re well prepared.” Dain scoffs at him, “As Wingleader you should be making sure they’re fighting the best they can.”

Xaden was now wearing a taunting grin, “No Aetos, as squad leader you should be making sure your squad members are the best they can be. Do I need to report to leadership that you’re not performing your duties as squad leader?”

At that, Dain backed off. Before he could fully step away, Xaden grabbed his arm giving him a death glare. “If you ever take that tone with her again, I promise you, you won’t make it to third year.” Dain’s throat bobbed as he nodded, ripping his arm out of Xaden’s grasp.

Everyone was staring, holding their breath and waiting for a fight that wouldn’t come. Xaden looked around. You were staring at him, eyes gleaming. You loved how he stood up for you, how intimidating he was, especially when the recipient of that intimidation was Dain. You bit your lip and he winked at you.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Xaden announced. The squad began to leave and Xaden made his way over to you.

He brushed a loose piece of hair behind your ear, leaving a sensual touch down your neck. A shiver crept down your back. “Hi sweetheart.” Your face broke out into a smile, “Hi baby.” He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you flush against his front. His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, rubbing the tension that’s there. Excitement rushes through you, heating your cheeks and ears. “What’s got you hot and bothered?” “I think you know,” you purred.

Xaden lets out a breathy laugh, “Yeah but I want you to tell me.” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t kill his good mood. So you give him the ego boost, “Your good mood is kinda turning me on. And seeing you put Aetos in his place was really hot.”

“Yeah?” He leans in, nuzzling your nose, “Yeah.” You breathe out.

…

Xaden kicks his door open, you're in his arms heavily making out. As soon as he shuts the door you wriggle out of his arms, pushing him by the chest to sit on the bed. “What are you up to sweetheart?” The words come out breathy as you palm him through his pants. “Saying thank you.” You give him a mischievous look, dropping to your knees. He spreads his legs to make room for you.

You run your fingers lightly up and down his muscular thighs. Leaning down you place kisses up his clothed legs to his prominent bulge. Xaden moans, throwing his head back. You reach up to undo the ties of his leather pants. Xaden lifts his hips so you can pull his pants and underwear down his legs. He kicks off his boots, you tug his pants off throwing them behind you.

You take his length in your hand. As you pump your hand up and down him you feel yourself getting wet at the thought of him stretching you out. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading his precum around. Xaden’s breathing is shallow, “Fuck, please y/n.” You look up at him, “please what baby?” You say teasingly.

“Please, I need your mouth.” At that you start placing kitten licks on the head of his cock. Moving to lick from the base back up to the head. Xaden growls, gathering your hair he wraps it around his fist.

Before he can yank your head closer to him, you take him in your mouth, sucking and moving your tongue best you can. Xaden lets out a loud moan, you loved it when he was vocal in bed. Bobbing your head you felt his cock twitch in your mouth signaling that he was close. “Ah, so good for me sweetheart. Fuck - you always do such a good job for me.” You moan around his cock as he comes down your throat.

You let go of him with a pop. He pulls you up by your hair grasping your jaw in his other hand. “Let me see.” He growls. Smiling you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him his release. “Fuck sweetheart, you look so perfect like this. Be a good girl and swallow.” You swallow, wiping at your lips.

Standing up, you begin to strip. Throwing your clothes to join Xaden’s on the wooden floor. You climb on to his lap, kissing him and lightly pushing him to lay back. Xaden moves up to lay on the pillows, pulling you with him. He flips you over so you're on your back, never breaking the kiss.

You wrap your legs around Xaden’s waist, pulling him closer to you. “I need you,” you pant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, clawing at his muscular back. He lets out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a whine as he teases your entrance with his cock. “Shit,” he moans, sliding into your dripping cunt, “fuck you feel so perfect, every fucking time.”

He sets a brutal pace causing your back to arch off the bed into his toned chest. The feeling of him is euphoric. He slid his cock all the way in, letting you feel all of him as he pushed his hips into yours. “Yes daddy,” you gasp out, “I need more please!”

Xaden rests his hand around your throat, his feral gaze locking with yours. “Say that again baby.” You smirk, “I need more daddy, please!” He fucks into you with abandon, the headboard smashing into the wall repeatedly. You feel yourself getting closer to your high, panting as you meet Xaden’s brutal thrusts. “Such a good girl baby, saying please for daddy.” He pants out, “you like being daddy’s good girl, don’t you.” Gods, you loved this new side of him.

Between his cock and his hand resting on your throat squeezing ever so slightly, you were in paradise. Your cunt tightens around him and you feel that coil tighten in your stomach. “Fuck, daddy, I’m going to come.” You scream. “I know princess, I can feel you, fuck. I’m almost there too. You gonna come with daddy.”

You both reach your high, Xaden’s hips slow down as you both come down. You close your eyes as Xaden slips out of you, rolling over onto his back. He caresses your cheek pulling you onto his chest, kissing the top of your head. “Wow…that was fucking amazing.” Xaden lets out a tired laugh. “That was more than amazing sweetheart, that was…there are no words for that.”

You nuzzle into his neck, humming. Your eyelids become heavy as Xaden traces soothing patterns in your back. “Sleep, sweetheart.” He whispers, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

tags: @msiecrane @auggiesolovey (I’m so sorry I haven’t tagged you in the last few fics it completely slipped my mind lol)

#fourth wing #xaden fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing smut #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson smut

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rougepancake · 2 years ago

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Hii I hope it’s okay to request this, I love your writing 😭 can I request a nsfw shy fem reader x Rengoku scenario where he walks in the room only to find his wife looking at the mirror with nothing but his haori on? He can hear her mumble insecurities to herself such as being flat and not pretty enough and how he deserves someone so much better.. but he makes sure to show his wife just how much he loves her ❤️

FJDJSJSJSNSN YES YES YES

My love

Ft. Kyojuro Rengoku

Warnings: Afab!Reader, angsty/fluffy smut, mirror sex, angst to fluff to smut, use of pet names like “my love”, soft dom kyojuro, dub-con. He’s just a sweetie in this tbh. Porn with some plot. Minors and ageless blogs dni.

Summary: Kyojuro caught you crying in the bathroom, saying things like how you weren’t ideally shaped or overly pretty, so he decided to make you feel pretty.

“Oh just look at me…” you sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror. “I don’t deserve this,” you whispered, staring at the way your husband’s haori fell over your body. You scoffed bitterly, your eyes tearing up.

“I-I’m not even curvy like Miss Kanroji…” You shook, wrapping your arms around yourself as you sobbed quietly. “God I’m just hideous aren’t I?! Why did he choose me…”

“Darling! I’ve returned from the market!” Your husband’s voice rang through the halls of your shared home, nearly scaring you to death. As you prayed for him not to find you in such a state, his voice rang out again. “Darling? Are you here?”

Just then, he rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

“Oh my goodness! What happened?!” He ran over to you, his hands on your shoulders as he stared into your teary eyes.

“It’s nothing love.” You were lying through your teeth and it was obvious, but you’d rather die than tell him the truth. “Just don’t worry about it…”

His eyes trailed down your body slowly, quickly moving up to meet your gaze when you shifted uncomfortably. You looked away from him, your lip quivering as you fought the urge to throw yourself into his arms and cry.

Gently, Rengoku wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “It’s okay now love… shhh, it’s okay.. just tell me when you’re ready, or don’t… either way, I’m here now, and everything is going to be alright…” He whispered softly into your ear as you sobbed violently, muttering things about how you weren’t good enough for him and such.

Hearing you say such things about yourself upset him in a way he’d never felt before. It sparked a flame in his heart that burned with the desire to prove you wrong, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

He placed his hand on your cheek softly and raised your head so you could look at him. The look in his fiery eyes made you shiver, and you wrapped his haori tighter around you in embarrassment.

“My love, you are everything to me.” He smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Please, let me show you how much you mean to me.”

You thought he was just going to kiss you until you were sorry, but you were incredibly wrong. To your surprise, he picked you up and set you on the bathroom counter and spread your legs.

Your body shook a little when he inhaled your sent, placing gentle kisses on your thighs as you watched. His beautiful eyes made contact with yours as he asked for silent permission. Slowly, you nodded your head yes, placing your hand on his shoulder as he bent over to enjoy his meal.

He didn’t waste time latching onto your clit as he began to finger you slowly, watching you closely the whole time. You threw your head back with a quiet moan, bringing your hand down to his fiery locks and tugging gently.

Before you knew it, he had added another finger, his pace quickening as you squirmed here and there. He was desperate to make you cum, to pleasure you in a way that would make you feel as amazing as he thinks you are.

“K-Kyo- st-sto- mmph~” He interrupted you by bringing you in for a kiss, a beautiful, passionate kiss. A tear fell down your cheek as you held him close to you, wanting nothing more than to have that singular kiss last forever.

But he pulled away.

You wanted to kiss him again, but you were afraid he’d deny your request. You were t sure why you thought that, but it scared you so much that you had too look away from him.

“What’s wrong my love?” Kyojuro asked softly, placing a warm hand on your cheek as another tear slid past it.

“I don’t deserve this…” Your lip quivered along with your voice, revealing more than you had intended.

Kyojuro stood you up from the counter and turned you around, forcing you to see yourself in the mirror in all your naked glory.

Resting his head on your shoulder, he watched as his hands explored your body. “Look at you. You’re beyond perfect.” He began to kiss your neck, leaving marks here and there. “Please, just hear me out this once, okay love?”

You nodded nervously, watching as he undid his belt and brought his pants down. It wasn’t your first time with Kyojuro, but you were still nervous.

A bead of sweat dripped down your forehead as you helped guide him in, his pace starting out slow and gentle as you watched in the mirror.

Now he’s balls deep and merciless, uttering praises with every thrust of his hips. He was getting closer to his high and you knew it, so you pulled him in for another kiss as his thrusts grew even sloppier.

“L-love, can I- ah~ cum in-inside?” Kyojuro panted, low grunts escaping him as he awaited your answer.

“P-please- I’m cl-close too.” You were breathless, not just because you were being fucked like a princess, but because he had shown you how much you deserved.

A loud, high pitched moan escaped you as you came together, your fluids mixing together as they dropped down your thighs. Tears fell down your cheeks as you came down from your high, breathing heavily. When you looked up into the mirror, Kyojuro was staring at you with wide eyes.

“Y-You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his eyes shining with awe. “Can w-we do that again??” His excitement caught you off guard, but it made you laugh nonetheless.

“Well…” You started, a playful smile on your lips. “You know the way to the bedroom Kyo~”

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mizuseyebrows · 9 months ago

Text

I want you to shiver —mizu x m!reader

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Y'ALL 🎀🩷

warning: nsfw. mdni. not proofread. she/her pronouns for mizu. handjob, fingering, penetration (just mentioned). hickeys, bites, praises. devoted sex?

includes: bttm!m!reader. amab!reader. top!mizu. not plot just sex. word count: 3k

summary: you and mizu are staying at a hotel and you're freezing out, so she decides to warm you up.

You and Mizu were staying in an old hotel in the hellish cold beginning of the winter. You had to stop to rest because the snowstorm had defeated you, but not Mizu, who seemed to be used to such low temperatures.

Mizu had stayed seated, you were resting wrapped up, while she studied the patterns on the blade of her katana. She glanced at you over her right shoulder as she listened to the shivering and chattering of your teeth.

She left the katana on the floor, very close to the futon, and approached you, cooing at you. She hugged you tightly around the waist to make you lie on your side so she could be able to kiss your forehead in that position.

Her hand went down your black haori until it reached its end. Your body jumped when you felt her palm on your belly making circular movements.

“Shhh…” She mumbled, closing her eyes.

You sighed shakily, from the cold and from feeling Mizu’s hand against your stomach. “H-How do you manage to stay so warm?” You stammered, clutching your hands at her blue haori.

“I learned to ignore the cold.” She whispered. Moved her hand lower, tracing with one finger, rubbing over your skin. She nuzzled her face on your shoulder, her lips pressing gently on your neck.

“I-I should have gue-guessed from the cold b-baths you take.” You giggled, still shivering violently from the cold seeping into your bones.

She laughed. Her fingers trailed lower and lower. She stopped herself before she went too low, instead running her hands up your back. She kissed you lightly on the neck.

“Shhh… shhh…” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against your shoulder again.

“Gods… how c-come you’re not cold, dammit?” Your voice shook again as you undid Mizu’s hair bun to tangle your fingers in it.

“Because you’re keeping me warm, love.” She smiled, gently stroking your hip. “Shhh… it’s okay..” she whispered. “Relax… relax.”

You laughed and blushed. You felt a strong chill, but couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or because of Mizu’s words. “Alright…”

“Hmm…” she hummed quietly, stroking your hip bones with her nails. “Close your eyes, my dear.” She leaned more on you, making you lie on your back, nibbling the crook of your neck.

You nodded softly and closed your eyes, stroking her hair gently. You tried to breathe deeply to relax and forget about the cold even a little.

“Good…” she whispered while kissing your neck again. “You have a lovely skin, darling.” She husked in your ear.

Her lips moved under your ear and down your neck before traveling down again, kissing your throat again and speaking into it once more.

“You… have a nice scent too…” she murmured, caressing your body and pressing her face into yours again.

You chuckled happily and put your hands inside Mizu’s haori, to caress her arms. “One of us should care about smelling good or not?” You teased, lovingly pinching her skin.

“Hmm…” she mumbled softly. “My goodness you are just adorable.” She mewled, kissing your neck again.

She began slowly tracing her fingers across your abdomen under the fabric of your clothes, her lips moving back up to your ear to growl,

“I could just eat you up.”

“Who’s stopping you?” You asked with a shaky giggle because of your shivers.

“Oh? No one, dear.” She replied in a breathy voice. “Just tell me… do you want me to?” Her fingers reached your obi, lightly untying it up stopping just before revealing your skin.

“Yes, please…” You asked, tightening your hands on her arms. “Give me warmth, darling.”

“I’ll give you more than warmth, baby…” she chuckled softly, pulling your haori down just enough to start kissing the exposed torso. Her lips moved up and down your skin, softly tracing your muscles with her lips.

She left little hickeys and bites along your body as she went, kissing every inch of skin she could reach along your stomach.

You gasped softly and pressed your hands to the fabric of the futon, enjoying her lips marking you. “It feels good, baby…” You licked your lips, still shivering a little.

“Shh...” she whispered against your belly button before taking your haori completely off. She began kissing your stomach again, tracing her tongue along the lines of your muscles. “You taste good…” she mumbled breathily.

“Fuck…” You slurred under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, don’t I?”

“Mhm….” She hummed.

Her tongue moved to your hip, pressing her teeth to achieved another mark. She left her hickey, biting down and sucking harshly on your skin.

“You’re just… too delicious.” She mumbled softly, her mouth trailing to the beginning of your pants catching the fabric between her teeth playfully.

You bit your bottom lip hard as you felt your erection begin to harden. Having Mizu’s face so close to that area was not something easy to ignore.

You moved your hands down to her back under her haori and began to gently pinch her skin. “Thanks, my love.” You tried to avoid jerking her face.

She sighed, more like a groan, enjoying your fingers squeezing her soft skin. She trailed her lips up to your shoulder, kissing it while continuing to hold you tightly.

“You’re so cute… you know that? I don’t know how you manage to just get more and more adorable.. you’re just… hngh..” she growled, biting your shoulder and licking it.

You laughed blushing, brushing the skin of her lower back with your fingertips. “I don’t know, I’m just like that with you, I guess…” You felt pleased. Hearing so much devotion come out of her beautiful mouth made a shiver of cold combine with one of pleasure.

“Mmm… you really are…” she purred, “even the way you move and act is so adorable… you’re just so…” she mumbled while kissing you passionately on the lips, her hands caressing your shoulders

You giggled a little more, feeling your body suddenly shake as a gust of cold air brushed against your skin. Your teeth began chattering again from the cold air entering your room, causing your body to shiver.

She was taken aback, suddenly feeling the cold from the gust of air as well.

“Shh… Shh..” she murmured. She kissed below your chin, lightly sucking and biting on your skin. “Ignore the cold, my dear.” She whispered, as her lips came back up to kiss you. “Just focus on me.”

“I’m trying, but it’s fucking cold.” You hissed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shh…” she cooed you. “Concentrate on me… ignore the cold.” The cold air continued to chill the room, she even shivered a little bit but she continued. “I’m warming you up, my love.” She whispered, nibbling your lips.

“It would make me warmer if I felt your skin against mine, my love.” You joked affectionately, trying to stop trembling.

“Oh..? Would it now…” she teased softly, her hands moving all the way up the edge of your pants as her lips left yours. “Mmmm… maybe you’re right.”

She mumbled as she pulled down your pants. Shortly after, she managed to leave your bodies with nothing covering them; causing you both to moan as you felt the cold hit your wet, dripping crotches.

Not having clothes made the freezing air penetrated your bones much more and you shivered violently, which made you let out airy and trembling sounds. “Shit…”

“Shh… R-Relax….” She shakily murmured, her hands sliding down your body and caressing you to try and warm you up.

She pulled you closer, your bodies pressed tightly together. Her legs trapping your hips and her arms embracing your waist.

“It’s okay, darling… I’m here. Just stay still… I won’t let you get cold.” She soothed softly, kissing you on the forehead.

“When you act so loving… you look insanely hot.” You try to speak normally, feeling your throat tremble.

“Hmm…” she chuckled softly. “You’re just so cute when you tremble and stutter… I want you to keep trembling…” she said mischievously, moving her hands down your body again.

“Oh yeah? And how are you going to keep me trembling?” You let out an airy laugh, clenching your fists as you felt the cold hit you arms in Mizu’s back.

She cooed you again, pressing her body against yours. She traced the outline of your boner, causing your hips to jolt by their own. She began to gently pinch the sensitive skin and then rub her index finger on your slit.

“I’m going to make you tremble more…” she was breathing deeply as she felt how wet you were for her. “I want you to shiver.”

She leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips. You couldn’t help but stammer her name as you felt her tongue lick every part of your mouth and the way she was caressing your slit. It was difficult for you to follow the rhythm she imposed because of how she massaged the head of your erection, she did it so gently… she had you writhing under her.

She moaned against your tongue as soon as your hips began to jerk her hand. Feeling the skin slide into her palm had her salivating and rolling her eyes, even though she had them closed.

You whimpered a little loudly into the kiss and the first thing you did was thrust your hands behind her back, to suddenly clutch her to your chest. Mizu pulled away, her lips wet with your saliva and her breathing quickened; and she stopped the caresses she had been doing to your shaft.

“Do you like the feeling of our bodies pressed together?” she teased as she gave you wet kisses in your neck again.

She moved her hand away from your length to stroke your shoulders lovingly. Your erection was proudly trapped between the two of your stomachs.

“I love when your breasts touch my chest.” You confessed as you managed to get out of the pleasure fog that absorbed you recently. “They’re so soft…” Your sigh and your body trembled at the same time after that.

“Mhmm…” she hummed lusciously. “They are soft, aren’t they?” she nibbled the corner of your ear.

She began to grind her hips, savoring a moan as she bit her lower lip when felt your erection slide between her folds. She had to hold her hands on both sides of your head, to improve her rhythm.

You let out a hoarse growl as you felt how wet she was for you. The feeling was slippery and made your muscles tense. You closed your eyes and buried your head lightly on the futon. “Now you’re going to rub against me? Fuck!”

“Uh-huh…” she smiled sensually, moving her hips back and forth atop yours while her long hair began to tickle her back, which made her body squirm even more on top of you. “Do you like that?” she gasped, feeling like she would howl at such tempting expression of pleasure on your face.

“Fuck, yes!” You almost screamed, squeezing Mizu’s hips with your hands to make her grind harder above you. The wet sound that this produced made your body shake, along with the thin layer of sweat that allowed the cold to begin to attack again.

She groaned fiercely, clenching her hands on your chest now, feeling her hips spasm frenziedly. Her lips moved back up to your neck, and she began bruising your skin, her mouth open and sucking softly on your flesh.

“I want to keep you quivering this way…” she grunted after feeling your limbs trembling again. “I want you to be so dependent on me… on my body.” She breathed.

“I already am, baby… I already am…” You sobbed, needily pressing your arms to her hips in search of released.

“I know you are… I can feel you are.” She giggled slightly, her breathing becoming faster and her breath short. “Mmmm… my cute, shivering creature.”

“Creature…” You repeated in a mumble, pressing your hands on her bottom cheeks, stopping her movements for a few moments to catch your breath a little.

“Shh… just concentrate on me, darling.” She whispered, nibbling the base of your neck.

Your erection ached from all that stimulation without reaching an end; but no matter how much you wanted to rub Mizu’s hips against yours again, it was impossible. She pressed her thighs tightly to the sides of your body while she left many more marks above your nipples.

“Lean forward a little, please.” You asked with a smile, giving her butt a spank.

She yelped, surprised, the moment you hit her rear. Her thighs clenched at the burning sensation your palm left. She bit her lower lip, leaning forward towards you as if you had asked her to.

At the sight of her bust above your face, you stretched your head to kiss the curvature of her left breast, taking an experimental bite while your hands trembled at the idea of spanking that tender pale ass again.

She moaned breathily as you bit her boob, her body shaking slightly from the intense chill and the pleasure that shot through her.

“Mm…” she groaned, “you’re so… good.” She whispered, enjoying how you pull her nipple with your teeth.

“Move… I need you to…” Your hands squeezed her buttocks, making her rub frantically on the tip of your erection. You continued to kiss and lick her breast.

Some strangled noises came of her mouth. She felt her breath become faster as she rubbed her body against your boner. She leaned forward more, putting all her weight onto you. She let you do your work as she groaned softly.

“Ah… s-so good… oh… you’re so good… mmm…” she praised, tugging your hair.

“Mhmm…” You hummed on her skin, writhing again under her from the cold that attacked your legs. But also because of the excitement that kept building between you.

Your hands continued to move her hips against your abdomen. Unconsciously, because of the freezing air, your teeth chattered squeezing the skin of her breast, causing you to pinch it somewhat forcefully; it caused some sharp pain for her.

She let out a yelped when you nipped her breast, it was a strong pain and she quickly moved to pull your mouth off her chest.

“Please… not so hard… darling..” she groaned. She was shivering slightly, biting down on her lip to try and dull the pain.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You placed a soft kiss on the bite mark on her breast and then licked it lovingly. “I’m sorry, my love…”

She wailed softly, your tongue licking her skin making her twitch. Her breaths came in small short breaths, and her body shivered even more. There was still some lingering pain but she smiled.

“Mm…. it’s… it’s okay…” She assured. She leaned down again to take her other breast into your mouth, letting out a loud whimper when she felt the tip of your tongue touching her erect nipple.

You sighed with pleasure as you started to sucked her boob again and began to caress her ass lovingly, absentmindedly running a finger along her folds, enjoying the sloppy sensation.

She giggled softly at your touch, moving her body slightly and giving you better access to her lips. She pushed her breast even more into your mouth, her breathing becoming heavier, her heartbeat quickening, it was intense pleasure she was feeling.

You smoothly slid your middle finger through her entrance, making circular movements. You softly bit around her areola, feeling her silky, wet walls around your digit. With a growl, you sinked two fingers in her spreading them, opening her gently.

She let out a little noise that encourages you to dip and curl your fingers. With experience, knowing Mizu’s insides like the back of your hand, you found that harsh spot that made her scream and roll her eyes in their sockets. And that glorious pleasurable cry didn’t take long to come.

“You’re a bad boy..” She hissed, squeezing her eyes shut.

You massaged here there with your fingertips, playfully nibbling on the nipple that was still in your mouth. You can’t help but let out a victorious smile feeling her grinding down on your knuckles with a shattered scream coming from her beautiful mouth.

When you removed your fingers from inside her, you immediately heard her beg for you not to stop. But you only separated yourself with a ‘pop’ from her breast and smiled triumphantly, then took your digits full of her essence to your mouth, melting at the taste of your beloved on your tongue.

She gagged at the image in front of her and couldn’t help but play with her own clit while her brow furrowed. She was a wet mess on top of you. She began to grid her hips again against your member, continuing to masturbate herself.

She moved her body frantically, her free hand squeezing and squeezing your skin tight.

She moaned loudly, her breathing becoming more erratic, when your salivating fingers came up to rub her clitoris. She looked at you with a moan caught in her throat from the stimulation, your eyes were so attractive, so alluring, and her body ached for something more.

“My darling…” she gasped softly, her mouth hovering above yours.

“My darling…” You repeated brushing your lips with hers, making her hips desperately grind atop you.

“Mm…” She moaned softly, as shrinking in place and bringing her hand to your wrist to stop what you were doing, it was too much.

You granted her wish and moved your hand away, watching with adoration how she threw her head back and supported herself with her hands on the futon.

Oh, the image she’s giving you right now…

You brought your hands to her hip bones and began to caress the skin tenderly. You lifted her body slowly, taking her by surprise, and then slid into her warm, wet cavity. You both let out a loud whimper at that and tilted your heads back from the sensations. Her feeling so full from you, and you finally feeling some release on your throbbing shaft.

She practically threw herself on you again to start kissing you passionately, while she got used to your sudden entry into her.

Neither of you two would last long but that was what had you so excited and eager to continue.

let me know if this is somewhat good, is my first time writing nsfw akdkkak 🎀🩷

#mizu x male reader #mizu x you #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu

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