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finelinevogue · 2 months ago

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bump

summary - you don’t like people constantly touching your baby bump

word count - +1k

pairing - azriel x reader

✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨

The party was in full swing.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d announced to your close friends and family that you and Azriel were pregnant - after having 1 month living with the news just you two.

Somehow, Rhys had managed to plan and pull-off a party in that short space of time in order to celebrate your pregnancy.

It was relatively low-key, only people that were closest to you and your family having been invited - mainly because you didn’t want a huge thing made of it but also because Azriel was a mad-man at the moment and wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life near you.

Azriel had been overprotective to say the least.

Just the other day you’d tried to reach for your favourite mug in a very accessible shelf above you, but Azriel saw what you were doing and instantly panicked - moving you gently out of the way and fetching it for you. To which he also proceeded in making you a tea as he didn’t want you anywhere near boiling water.

“I can make my own cup of tea, Az.” You sighed.

“I know you can, but I can also make one for you.” He replied. That was his usual reply nowadays.

“I’m not incapable you know?”

“I know. I just… I can–.”

“Yes I know you can, love, but I don’t need you to all the time, okay? I love that you want to take care of me, but I also don’t want to feel useless.”

“How could you be useless? You’re currently doing the most important thing that you could ever be doing.” Azriel placed a soft hand on your stomach.

But after shunning Azriel for being too overprotective, you sort of wish he would bring it back again in this moment.

This party was lovely, but it was also so overwhelming.

You didn’t realise how many people would be so interested in coming up to you and feeling your baby bump. Hands constantly touching you when they usually wouldn’t if you weren’t pregnant. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Y/N!” Layla called, walking up to you with a glass of bubbly in her hand.

“Layla, hi.” You smiled at your friend who had worked with you in the Velaris bakery for many years.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” She gushed, giggling a bit with excitement.

“Really? With the amount Y/N and Az sneak around every moment they get, I thought it was about damn time.” Nesta came up alongside you, rolling her eyes as is her and Cassian don’t do the exact same thing.

“Well with a mate like Azriel, I don’t blame you.” Layla wiggled her eyebrows and you gave her a small smile - feeling a little insecure that someone as beautiful as Layla was gushing over your mate whilst you were starting to look like an inflated balloon.

You felt Nesta give you a side look before wandering off into the crowd, leaving you to once again speak to Layla alone.

“So how far along are you?” Layla asked.

It would have been fine if she just asked that, but she had to go and put her hand against your bump at the same time.

You were far too polite to say anything but you really didn’t like her hand on your stomach. Not just hers but also everyone else’s who’d decided to just touch you without asking first.

It was starting to feel invasive.

“About 12 weeks.” You gave her a small smile, stepping back slightly.

Unfortunately for you she just followed, adding her hand back.

“Wow so you didn’t have any symptoms for a while then?” She asked, cupping the roundness of your belly with her palm.

It didn’t feel as comforting as when Azriel touched you. Nothing ever would, but there was something so overstimulating about someone other than your mate just touching you before asking. It felt a little violating.

Before you could get emotional about it in front of a crowded room you excused yourself.

You hurried as fast as you could out of the nearest door and walked through the corridors of the House of Wind.

The tears had arrived as you were walking, your heart beating fast and hands shaking with nerves.

Was it rude to not let people touch your bump? You couldn’t help but think.

Yet, at the same time you would never just go up to a female and put your hands on her pregnant bump - even if it was Feyre - You respect their boundaries too much. So why did you feel like getting upset about this was silly?

Was it the hormones? Because they had been making you feel slightly crazy recently.

You made it to the kitchen without bumping in to anyone.

You braced your arms on the kitchen counter and sunk your chin to your chest, letting out small whimpers as the tears fell.

There was no need to jump from your skin when Azriel’s arms snaked around your waist to hug you because you’d felt his presence the moment he’d appeared in the room. His cheek was delicately placed on the back of your head to still allow you the time and space to be upset.

Some of his shadows were already snaking around your arms in support and stomach in protection.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked and you had to laugh at his tone.

“Ask me what you really want to ask, Az.” You lifted your chin up and tilted your head to the side to try and see him.

“I’m not sure asking you who I need to kill is the right thing to say when you’re crying.”

You chuckled, kissing the side of his face.

Azriel let you turn around in his hold, not letting your waist go for a moment though. Now his head was tilted down to face yours.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

Your smile broke as your lips wobbled, trying to focus on not crying and instead talk it through with your mate.

“I hate it.” Your voice wavered.

“Hate what? Who?”

“I hate purple touching my bump.”

“Okay.” Azriel said but didn’t add any thoughts for you. He wanted to hear you say everything on your mind first.

“N-not you. But, people have been touching my bump all day without asking and I hate it. I hate it so much, but I feel like a witch if I tell them to get off. Like it’s just my stomach at the end of the day..”

Azriel moved his hands quickly from your waist to cup your cheeks, stroking his thumb carefully over your cheeks. His touch immediately stopped you from talking.

“Woah, woah, woah. No. Don’t do that. Don’t try and talk yourself out of feeling the way you do. It’s your stomach, love. It’s your baby. No one should be doing anything you’re not comfortable with - ever.”

“No I know, but…”

“No buts. Y/N, love, if you feel uncomfortable then that’s the line I draw. The next person to touch your bump without asking is going to lose their hand.”

You give him a stoic look, but part of you was seriously wondering whether he was being truthful.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the night?”

“Or how about we don’t go back at all.” He raised his eyebrows in suggestion at you.

“If you’re on the same wavelength as me then yes - please!”

“Perfect.” He kissed you softly, both your chests warming at the touch, “You get the ice-cream and I will get the blankets.”

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azrielf fic rec #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar fic rec

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cookiesandbiscuits · 3 months ago

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To all loyal customers of the bakery...

As you may have seen from my recent posts, the creators of one of my favorite and comfort game, Obey Me, has announced that the games of the franchise will no longer have new content starting next year.

As devastating as that is, I am announcing that I will be focusing on producing more OM-related content (x reader and x OC stories and fan art). This will serve as my way of processing the shocking news.

This doesn't mean that I will be abandoning my WIPs and ongoing series for other fandoms.

With that being said, I hope you won't mind seeing more OM content here!

Lots of love,

#bakery announcements!!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #cookie writings #cookie's art/doodles

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endlessdreamworld · 2 months ago

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My Sinful Little Angel

a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader

"Thank you again, Mr. Oak," you said as Sunday, the town's resident tailor finished repairing the frayed hem of your apron. "Here," you offer him a half dozen of today's special treat, powdered sugar shortbread cookies filled with raspberry jam.

"Thank you," he gave you a soft smile that made your heart melt. "Here," he offered you up some coins, more than he should but still a paltry amount the judgmental villagers would consider good and proper.

It was part of your little arrangement. You showed up one day out of nowhere, and the town's bakery took you in. You had a roof over your head and a belly full of food, but they paid you next to nothing.

"Tomorrow we're going to be maki--" a knock interrupted your sweet little announcement. It was the baker's son. Sunday didn't miss how your gaze fell to your hands clutching your newly repaired apron, how you seemed so very bashful in the presence of your peer. Oh God in heaven, please smite this wicked fool who dare intrude upon your shared sacred peace and tempt you so.

You gave him a small wave as you headed for the door, "I have to go Mr. Oak, duty calls." You were always so polite and sweet to him, so diligent, always doing more than you should. Sunday noticed the powdered sugar you had graced him with when he paid you for your work and brought it to his unworthy tongue. An ambrosia he didn't earn, one he didn't deserve. You were an angel made flesh, and far too good for a backwater place like this. One day, he swore, he'd do something about it.

As the sun set, he flipped the sign in the window from open to closed before heading off to his second job. Every flock needed a shepherd, and who better to play the role as he? And so the town's church offered a confessional booth service where he served as the confessor.

He settled in behind the screen and prepared his heart for the service. People always had such ridiculous things plaguing them so, but who was he to deny them salvation?

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

It was the sound of your voice. He held his breath. He couldn't help but hear how nervous and deflated you sounded. What heresy could you have committed to feel so low? "Speak freely, child," he spoke in an unrecognizable drawl. Sunday preferred anonymity. It was better when people didn't know who they were speaking to.

You sigh inwardly and steel your resolve, "I've been having sinful thoughts about another. One of my fellow peers."

Sunday has heard those very words before, and he didn't like where this was going. He was quite fortunate to be able to steer you away from such an unholy sin. "What sorts of thoughts?"

He listened to the sound of fabric brushing against the confessional screen, the sound of you squirming from discomfort. "Carnal ones I'm afraid. Whenever I'm with him, I pray his hands linger more than they should. Every night, I dream of clandestine meetings -- of the perverted sort."

Sunday hears how very affected you are, and he isn't going to allow some degenerate sully your pure soul and infect your mind. He was almost certain it was that baker boy with the way you could scarcely look at him, but if he were to do anything about it, he would need to be sure. "Those are quite heavy sins, my dear, but the lord forgives all who wish to repent."

"Thank you Father." He can hear the smile in your voice and he has you right where he needs you.

"To repent, it would be best to disclose the name of this wolf in sheep's clothing that assaults your thoughts and faithful heart."

Yes, give me a name. This whisper campaign to your excommunication will be as delicious as it'll be unsurprising. It'll be my revenge for whoever dares touch you so frivolously, my sweet angel.

You got quiet, the sound of conflict. Sunday's chest tightened, anguished by your misplaced sense of guilt. You were trying to shield whoever this dastard was by the kindness of your soul. He knew you needed one final push. "The lord forgives all who sin, even the serpent who tempts you so."

"Well," you swallowed thickly. Agony permeated your words as you work up the courage to oust the blasphemer, "it's Sunday Oak."

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday hsr #honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yancore

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foldingfittedsheets · 1 month ago

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I had this one coworker at the jewelry store that I just loathed. She was the shittiest kind of devout where she made her whole deal bigotry. Now it’s important to note that I’d already had a run in with her that made me give exactly zero fucks how rude she perceived me as.

One day in the back room several coworkers were gathered on break discussing bakers refusing gay clients. The general tenor of the conversation was damning on the bigoted bakery that wouldn’t serve gay clients.

This fucking lady has the audacity to go, “Well if I could just play devils advocate-“

And I whipped my head around to make piercing eye contact and announced, “No, I have enough devils in my life.”

It was honestly one of the most satisfying moments ever, to have the perfect comeback in my mouth right when I wanted it and to have had the balls to whip it out.

Her mouth snapped shut and the break room went awkwardly silent with suppressed delight. I turned back to continue talking to a friend of mine.

Afterward my friend reveled in the moment, telling me, “I just keep seeing her shocked expression over and over. This is the best day.”

She ended up getting let go a few months later and she was unilaterally unmourned.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #funny #story #writing #bigotry #devils advocate

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hivemuthur · 23 days ago

Note

Okay okay okay,

Viktor x Reader emotional smut/hurt comfort

Viktor spends all night in his lab and he forgets you guys planned a dinner because you had a fight because he missed dinner for working in his lab just a week prior. So you’re all dressed up waiting for him to walk through the door to go to dinner and he just… never shows. You wait as long as you can until you give up and go to bed, leaving your shoes and outfit you were wearing crumpled on the floor. He comes home and he sees the outfit and he’s like ah… shit.

Then it’s angry fight over not feeling like he cares enough, feeling second to his work, not feeling enough for him etc all the insecurities coming out.

And then smut eventually when he comforts reader

Pls 🧎🏽‍♀️

Hi Anon! I have to say, this scene gave me a lot more trouble than I thought it would, but I hope the fight is believable.

Once more, we have been blessed with my smut fairy's benediction (who has already helped me flesh out the scenes in What was that? that are yet to come) - @rennethen has written a beautiful skeleton for a sex scene in this fic, that we edited together AND she also did a thorough research around position that we used here AND recommends for you to put on Start a Fire by Ryan Star. So everyone say thank you! I love writing with you, thank you so much! ♡ Here we go:

Lover, You Should've Come Over

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! angst/comfort/smut

word count: 3,7K

—

His eyelids felt gritty, like there was painful sand beneath them, while the clock announced another passing hour. Viktor sighed and felt that his frown would not loosen on its own, so he pressed a hand to his forehead in an attempt to iron it out. The relief was brief, fleeting, and another sigh followed.

He glanced at the notes scattered across his desk—unfinished sketches and equations scrawled hastily in chalk, bits of which flaked off the blackboard like flour. Blinking a few times, he turned his gaze to the window. Dawn was approaching. For a moment, he considered collapsing onto the tiny, worn-out couch in the corner of the lab, a relic from late nights and lost time shared with Jayce. It had been set up precisely for moments like this, when the concept of time slipped through their fingers.

But the thought of crawling into a warm bed next to you tugged at him, finally winning the battle against exhaustion.

Slowly, he rose, his joints cracking audibly in protest. The sound echoed around the empty lab, a dry reminder of how long he’d been hunched over the desk. He considered tidying up but quickly abandoned the idea, his fatigue winning over perfectionism. Instead, he stacked the notes into a precarious tower on his desk and shoved a handful of loose papers into his bag haphazardly.

He was used to this feeling— an odd drunkenness of the body that didn’t see a drop of alcohol, fuel running out after more than twenty hours without sleep. His limbs felt stiff, his muscles sluggish and uncooperative, resulting in a wobbly trot and a certain alienation from one’s own hands. Dry throat, dry eyes, sensation of faint nausea lingering somewhere below his larynx, everything easily meltable in a cup of tea and the embrace of a properly soft mattress.

In some strange way, this was his favourite part of the day. The academy was silent, the streets of Piltover almost deserted, save for a few early risers starting their work at dawn. He stopped by the bakery to pick up fresh bread and pastries for breakfast, savouring the slow, solitary stroll home. Soon enough, he would wrap himself around you, breathing in the comforting scent of your hair as he drifted into a few blissful hours of sleep.

Quietly, he slipped his key into the lock and turned it, careful not to make a sound. He hesitated before setting the keys in the bowl by the door, opting instead to hold onto them to avoid clatter.

He stepped further into the apartment, orange morning sun already breaching the curtains, as motes of dust danced around, suspended in the still air. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the lingering warmth. He slipped off his shoes, careful not to make noise, and padded towards the bedroom with a soft groan.

It was then he saw them—your clothes and shoes discarded on the floor, right in the hallway. The sight made him pause. The shoes were still upright, as if you’d stepped out of them, resigned. The dress, crumpled, was draped across the chair near the door. Slowly, his tired mind pulled the pieces from the deep well of memory.

Dinner. He’d forgotten. Zatraceně.

His face crunched itself painfully at the thought of what awaited him. Fully deserved, yet, far away from pleasant. He swallowed it down and pushed the bedroom door open with a soft creak.

“Lásko,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, guilt clinging to the edges of the pet name. “Are you asleep?”

A long, unhappy sigh came from the bed. “No.” Silence, for a moment. “Now that I know you’re alive—” you croaked quietly, your voice muffled by the pillow. “Where have you been?”

If it hadn’t been clear until then, the sound of your voice betrayed just how much crying you had done in the last few hours. It was raw and hoarse, thick with exhaustion, a sniffle caught at the back of your throat.

“I—” Viktor started, faltering before quickly trying to correct himself. “I forgot. I am so, so sorry.”

Nothing, just a stare, as you lifted yourself up from the pillows and crossed your arms on your chest. Eyebrows pinched together in a fake pity.

“Work. I swear, it completely slipped my mind, and I am so, so sorry,” Viktor pleaded, making a few wobbly steps toward the bed, only to stop at your scoff.

“That’s… good to know. Well, if you ever decide I am worthy of your time, you know where to find me,” you retorted and slumped back into the pillow, stubborn tears already pushing themselves past your eyelids.

“Please don’t be like that, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Few more steps, unsure, as Viktor leaned heavily on his cane. His voice exasperated, as he had absolutely no energy to fight now. He would do anything for forgiveness and a place in bed, his muscles screaming for rest.

“Viktor I frankly don’t care what you’ve meant or didn’t mean to do, it is what it is,” you said sharply, narrowing the space for discussion. “For someone who fights so fiercely to not be forgotten, you sure forget about others easily.”

“Was that necessary?” A hot feeling washed over him, not yet anger, but irritation that glued his feet to the floor and made him adjust his stance. “Do you really want to fight at 4 a.am.?”

“Yes, that is my deepest desire to have a fight with you at dawn. What do you think? Is it my fault that we are having this conversation?” You rose again, facing him from the stronghold of your shared bed, Viktor dangerously close to losing his residence rights.

“No, it’s my fault, as you’ve made it very clear. And I am sorry, and it will never happen again. I don’t know what else I can say, really.” Seeing your deadly glare, he added, “And I don’t forget you. I just forgot about dinner. I’m sorry.” The last apology weaker than the others, as he run out of options.

“I somehow fail to see the difference between forgetting me and forgetting dinner—twice— as the result of both is identical,” you huffed dangerously, kicking the duvet off yourself. Anger surging through you, mixing with disbelief at his complete lack of willingness to own his sins.

“Lásko, please. I am so infinitely tired, please let’s not do this now,” Viktor pleaded again, his voice straining, the undercurrent of upset making your skin crawl. He spread his hands apart, making another step toward the bed to find himself stood at the edge of it. And it was too close.

You swung your legs over the mattress, tears of anger burning your cheeks. “As you wish. Bed’s all yours.” Another spit and you stood up, ready to run away and press yourself into the couch to muffle your sobs, when Viktor’s hand stopped you.

“Please don’t go. Please. This is the last thing I want.” This time his voice more sincere. Sadness in his eyes. A real lingering guilt. But if you were to give in, nothing would change.

“No, Viktor. Should’ve thought about this before you decided to marry yourself to work.”

“And what do you mean by this?” he asked in a confused tone, his hand leaving your arm.

“I mean… I don’t know what I mean, I’m tired. And what I also mean, maybe you should reconsider if there is truly a space for someone else in your life. Or maybe you need someone more memorable, I really don’t know,” you mumbled, all your insecurities gnawing at you simultaneously. All the times when Viktor forgot about something you had asked for, all the times he was late or didn’t show up at all, all the times when you had to ignore young assistants giggling around him, when you would finally decide to pick him up from work.

“Please, you cannot be serious right now.” Viktor felt his ribs clenching around his heart, a very unpleasant kind of tightness settling in his chest. Or maybe just his heart swelled up in his chest, pumped with anger and disbelief. Either way, it ached. “How dare you throw such an accusation at me.”

“How dare I? Have you, I don’t know, tried to take a walk in my shoes? You can take a stroll, they are in the corridor, ready for the dinner.” This very finite, very spiteful remark made you momentarily proud of yourself, until you saw the shift in Viktor’s eyes.

“I haven’t. I didn’t think I should. Because I trust you, when you say you love me, and I was hoping you trusted me as well, despite the slip ups,” he said quietly, his gaze low. “You knew who I was before we stepped into this, I’ve told you that I am not good at this kind of maintenance.”

“Maintenance?” You were fuming. Absolutely, completely furious. Courtship and basic human decency to not leave someone hanging for hours reduced to such a soulless, technical term. “You cannot wipe your face with the excuse of being broken every time you fuck something up, Viktor.”

And that was it. It was enough. Enough to rip through Viktor’s chest with a cold blade. He took a sharp inhale, but before anything could fall out from his mouth you realised what you had just said. Stumbling over your own words, you retreated quickly, “Viktor, I’m so sorry, I—”

“No. No,” he whispered, his tone icy as he shrugged your hand off his arm. “It is you who doesn’t get the right to wipe your face with something I have bared in front of you in trust.” And you saw his eyes welling up and you felt your own heart swelling in fear. Your hand shot back where it was rejected, again, and Viktor pushed it off, again.

“Please, Viktor, I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Yes, you did. And what is worse—I haven’t ignored you on purpose. I forgot. Which is in its definition an unintentional act. Whereas, you have gone for the kill. Intentionally.” His tone measured, calculated, walls raising up as he turned his face away from you.

You stood there, struck. Looking blankly into space, regretting not taking Viktor up on that ‘let’s not fight now’ option from a few moments ago. After a few very loud, very echoey breaths your resolve finally broke and a long suppressed sob pushed itself out of you with full force.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, falling back into the mattress. “I just… miss you—” An undignified hick escaped you. “I miss you so much Viktor, I really didn’t mean to say it, I’m so sorry…” After that, an incomprehensive wave of words mixed with gasps and cries followed.

Viktor stood there for a minute, chewing at the inside of his cheek, clearly still wounded, he just didn’t know what wounded him more. The fact that his love called him broken in a spiteful retort, or the fact that she was now crying at the crack of dawn, because of him.

Tentatively, he shifted closer to you, a featherlight touch of his hands to your shoulder startling you. You felt the mattress dip next to you and your head being pulled to his chest, which made you fall apart completely.

Viktor hugged you tightly, your tears dampening his jumper, his own throat working very hard to suppress emotion bubbling to the surface. “Please forgive me,” he whispered softly between soothing sounds he was humming to you. “Please, I can’t bear it.”

“I don’t work myself to the bone, lose sleep, lose time, because I want to be far from you. I am doing this for something greater, for a chance to fix what I can. To… to matter. And I… miss you as well,” he said calmly, holding you close to his chest.

“Do you?” you quipped sheepishly, trying to muster whatever composure was left within you. Cradled in Viktor’s arms, you found yourself at a loss of other words. The argument suddenly dissolved into something softer as you began tracing your fingers idly along the beauty marks on his neck.

Viktor nodded a few times too many and placed his hand on your neck. “I will be more mindful,” he said simply. “And you can visit me at work more often and pull me out of there by the ear. How does that sound?”

It was your turn to nod, spreading dampness across your face. You swung your legs over his lap and nuzzled your face into his hair. Viktor shifted slightly, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek.

“Will you let me make it all up to you?” he asked softly, his voice low and reverent. His thumb lingered on your skin, tracing the faintest curve of your cheekbone.

You swallowed, your skin getting warmer under a blush. “Well, what do you have in mind?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Something you might like,” Viktor replied, leaning closer, his forehead resting against yours. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath catching as his fingers grazed your jaw, sliding down to cradle your chin. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, but his gaze never wavered, holding you captive.

“Okay,” you breathed, the word escaping before you could stop it.

His lips quivered into the faintest smile—playful, yet soft. He shifted again, his hands trailing down your arms until he caught your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours. He brought them to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

“Děkuji,” he murmured, the gratitude in his voice making your heart ache.

His movements were careful as he guided you to lay down and took a moment to unclip his leg brace. He then scrambled up beside you, your knees touching, each move soft and lazy, giving away how tired his body was after another sleepless night. You let him pull you closer, his arms wrapping securely around you, his touch steady and grounding.

You took a long, audible inhale, as your fingertips traced the lines of his face. The faint circles beneath his eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slight harshness of stubble that rasped under your touch. Viktor closed his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping him as if your touch alone was enough to undo him.

“You’re so tired,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the shadow on his cheek.

“We can take this slow,” he murmured, his lips quivering into a smile. His hand found your waist, his touch firm yet gentle. “I like taking my time with you.”

He dipped his head, his lips grazing the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine as he whispered, “I am really sorry, lásko. I hope you believe me.”

Your breath hitched as his words bounced off your skin. “I do. And I am sorry too,” you whispered back, trying to will the blush away from your cheeks.

He gave you a tentative kiss, barely a press of his lips to yours. For a moment, lips were just touching, mouths slightly open as you both breathed each other in. He smelled of ink and chalk, a powdery scent lingering in your nose. His hands pressed firmer on your sides as he pulled you closer, your stomachs pressed together.

One of his legs snaked in between yours and he pressed his knee to your core, warmth already pooling in your lower belly. Your kissing deepened, tongues got involved and you could feel your teeth clacking against each other. Noses pressed together, as your hands travelled under the layers of his clothing to ghost over his stomach and his hips bucked into yours, making you gasp.

“Tickles,” he chuckled into your mouth, his breath growing heavier and quiet moans escaped him with each kiss. You let your hands wander, finding an easy rhythm as you glided your touch onto his hips and thighs.

Feeling him grow harder beneath you, you palmed his length through the trousers and ground your hand on it. Viktor gasped at the sudden attention to his cock, the fabric adding a delicious friction to the movement.

He reciprocated easily with the knee between your legs. Lazily, he moved it back and forth, testing the pressure to see where it made you squirm. One of his hands traversed the plane of your back downwards to your ass to fondle it gently, his fingers dancing on it, tracing words before allowing himself a leisurely squeeze.

Your kissing grew hungrier and you added some pressure to your hand to finally grip his now fully hard cock through the cloth. Viktor’s body wordlessly asked for more, bucking needily into your touch, his brows pinched together, his panting breaths fanning your face.

He retreated his knee from between yours and before you could whine, his cock and your cunt met in a long, sloppy drag of your bodies against each other. He ground himself against you with a desperate want, as if his brain suddenly remembered what was missing when spent long hours at work.

The material of his pants became unbearably tight against the almost nonexistent layer of your knickers. His hand abandoned your ass in favour of snaking under your soft, frilly nightdress to cup your bare breast, while the other cradled your cheek. He tilted your head to nip at your neck and you whined at the sudden attention to all the sensitive spots on your body—his hand groping your chest, thumb brushing against your nipple, his cock against you, the feeling of his teeth on your neck, followed by soothing kisses, love marks already blooming on your skin.

“You are doing so well, lásko,” he murmured into your neck, the honeyed sound melting something inside you. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” A low whisper followed by the feeling of his hands shifting you onto your stomach, as he pulled himself up to sit. He grabbed a pillow to stabilize his knee and pulled your skirts up to your shoulder blades.

He took a moment to take in the view, tracing your skin with his fingertips, to finally press his face to your ass cheek, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your spine, his hands gently beckoning your hips up. He guided your left knee to bend, mirroring his own, when he caged himself on top of you, his chest splayed flat against your back.

His left arm cradled around your chest, palm cupping your cheek as you intertwined your fingers with his. You could feel his length ghosting between your legs, but even the sharp press of your hips against him wasn’t enough. “Viktor, please,” you let out an undignified huff and Viktor chuckled into the nape of your neck, snaking his free hand between your front and the mattress.

He cupped your cunt, material sticky against his fingers and you could feel his mouth blooming into a smug smile as he teased, “Missed me so much, have you?”

His clothed cock poked at the wet membrane of your knickers as his fingers began their precise work on your clit, the friction of the fabric becoming unbearable and you couldn’t help another mewl, “Viktor, please, I can’t—”

You got cut off by your own sob, when Viktor murmured into your ear, “Oh, but I like you so much like this.” He placed an infuriatingly sloppy kiss on your pulse point, your hips bucking against your will. You didn’t know which was worse, the teasing or the absence of his fingers, because the whine that escaped you when he retreated his hand made your breath catch in your throat.

He freed his cock from the confinement of the fly, not bothering with the rest. Then, he slid the gusset of your underwear to the side and dragged his fingers along your seam, coating them with your slick, before inserting one inside. Gently adding another, he hummed appreciatively, your clit mercilessly teased with his thumb.

When you were ready, he wrapped himself back around you, took his cock to wet it at your entrance and sunk into you slowly, drawing a long, breathy moan from your lips. Once fully sheathed, he pulled his hips back to give you a snappy thrust, before finding a rhythm. His free hand wandered back to your clit, his attention unwavering, as he worked you in small, steady circles.

Your breathing grew heavier, and Viktor slid the fingers of his other hand from your cheek into your mouth, teasing your tongue. Completely trapped underneath him, you were at the mercy of his hips and his fingers, as he murmured sweet nothings into your ear.

Sinking deeper and deeper into you he hit a spot that drew a wail from the bottom of your throat, your hips bucked in the tight space between him and the bed, his fingers unwavering between your legs and you could feel yourself tightening, your core tied into a knot close to a release.

His movements grew more sloppy and needy, his mouth close to your ear, murmuring, “You are doing so well, I love you so much,” in a hushed tone between kisses pressed to your temple and the back of your neck. With your walls tightening around him, he came with a loud groan, flexing on top of you, bringing you with him with a couple precise flicks of his fingers. You came as he was spilling inside you, the feeling of damp warmth spreading around your underbelly.

He drew a couple of hot breaths, still splayed on your back, before rolling to the side and dragging you close with your back to his chest. He combed your hair away from your neck and placed a lingering kiss on the spot where it met your shoulders.

You took his hand into yours and brought it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. He chuckled warmly and asked, “Am I forgiven?”

“The judge and the jury agree the atonement was sufficient,” you teased, though your voice was barely there. You shifted around to face him and nuzzled your face into his neck. “I now would like to prove a theory that this would be equally enjoyable if provided upon a shorter hiatus.”

“Oh you know me,” he murmured into your hair. “I would do anything for science.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests

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penvisions · 2 months ago

Text

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

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The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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