#high quality backing tracks

[carryatunestudio12]

In India, there are several online mixing and mastering services available that offer professional solutions for musicians, producers, and artists. Here are some reasons why you should consider investing in these services:

[wildsaltair]

No thoughts head empty just Alex Ross being adorably impressed by a card trick <3

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[dreamsicle262]

Dead Plate AU Information

This is a masterpost detailing my AUs for Dead Plate, which may soon become their own fanfics—if given enough time—since I plan on trying to write out a few. There's a lot of text so be warned: there's a long post underneath the cut. I tried to describe character designs when necessary because there's currently no images like character sheets/references yet. Hopefully I'll get there. This post might be edited if I have more AU ideas, or if I add pictures.

As a note beforehand, I do have a headcanon involving Vincent not having a sense of smell, since being able to taste goes hand in hand with being able to pick up on scents. If he can’t taste things, then he likely cannot smell anything either. This headcanon remains consistent with him in these universes, unless stated otherwise.

Vampire AU

Dead Plate, but Vincent is a vampire. That’s pretty much what this AU is.

At some point prior to the events of Dead Plate, Vincent got turned into a vampire. He has only been dealing with it for a short amount of time, and his fangs have been taking quite a while to grow in. He didn’t really think anything of it at first. He still couldn’t taste foods, his appetite generally remained low, and he usually didn’t experience hunger very strongly.

He does murder Manon still. It’s during this time that Vincent is suddenly aware that he’s able to smell blood. Naturally, he figures that if he can smell blood, then he might be able to taste it. However, he doesn’t drink any of Manon’s blood to test this; whatever she has to offer he’s not interested in. It’s at this point that his plans have changed, and figuring out if he can actually taste something aside from nothing at all becomes his main priority. The whole ‘cooking with love’ thing is put off to the side for the time being. This could be attributed to him being selfishly inclined.

It's only when Rody accidentally cuts open his finger the next day that things change, and he actually does take the opportunity he’s been given to taste test his blood. As expected, this is an awkward situation for the both of them afterwards.

I haven’t fully decided on where I’d like to go with this AU to make it any different from the main plot of Dead Plate, but maybe an incident happens during the dinner party or something. I’ll figure it out when I actually get to writing the potential fanfic for this one.

There are no design changes for this AU aside from me giving Vincent fangs. He looks normal otherwise, and his fangs aren’t visible when his mouth is closed. There’s general vampire lore that I use that’s different from what’s usually expected of vampires but that probably doesn’t need to be elaborated here. I’m always open to questions on my AUs for further clarification though.

Florist + butcher AU

Rody is a florist, and Vincent is a butcher.

Vincent wasn’t able to open up a restaurant in this AU, but was content with opening up a butcher shop instead, still providing quality service to his customers in the process. Despite his shop being popular, it isn’t as large as it could be. In order to not put as much pressure on himself, he does have a few employees managing the shop’s orders, which mostly consists of providing custom cuts of meat or preparing special deliveries since his business is still a fairly big deal. Vincent himself mostly deals with the actual butchering in the back, instead of serving customers directly. He’s very picky about where he sources his products from, only accepting offers from places with a track record of animals raised to be high quality. Sometimes, this makes his store’s selections limited, and because it takes time to get new shipments in occasionally due to the distance, the products rotate every two days. Vincent lives above his business.

Rody is a florist, having managed to open up a store by saving up enough money to rent out an available building right next to Vincent’s butcher shop. He did this in order to cope with his break up, and to hopefully impress Manon and get her back. Since he’s managed to start his own business, it’s working out for him, surprisingly. Even if his business is for her sake and not his, at least he’s making progress with some personal growth and success. Rody still has a few issues with sourcing his products if he can’t grow them himself, but is otherwise doing okay. It is due to this reason that he is unable to deliver flowers, and majority of his customers are walk-ins instead. The only exception is if they happen to live nearby and he can reach them that way with his bike. Some of the flowers he sells come from his rooftop garden, which is contained within a greenhouse so he doesn’t go out of business every winter. His new apartment is below this garden, but above his flower shop. It is still considerably messy, but he tries to make improvements where he can.

Manon never had a rebound with Vincent, and was only aware that Rody had opened up a flower shop when he happened to get an advertisement in the newspaper and she saw it. Since then, she has opted to stay in contact with him, and occasionally visits like she used to. She lives somewhat nearby both stores. Given how Rody is making personal progress instead of being too self-sacrificing for her, she’s been trying to encourage him to invest more into his business instead of worrying about her all the time. It’s worked a little bit so far. Sometimes, Rody gives her nice bouquets of flowers that have meanings behind them since he knows quite a lot about flower language now.

Plot-wise, Rody will be staying in his chosen location near Vincent's butcher shop until he has enough money to relocate, but during that time he will get to know Vincent more due to their close proximity to each other constantly. Vincent, while originally annoyed by Rody's presence, starts to become intrigued by him and wants him to stay just so he can observe him some more. Of course, this leads to problems when he catches wind that Rody will be leaving soon, and is later told by Rody himself that he'll soon be 'out of his hair' in another month or so.

In response to this, Vincent starts sabotaging Rody's business by messing with stuff regarding the building (electrical cables, etc etc) and killing off his most frequent customers in order to cook into meals for him as potential bribery to stay. All of this negatively impacts Rody's business, especially financially, so he has to remain where he is longer than expected. He doesn't even know that Vincent is killing his business (quite literally) right next to him.

Design-wise, Rody wears an outfit similar to his casual clothes, but with his shirt buttoned up. His undershirt is a faded mossy green. Over his shirt, he has a dark brown apron with small, white floral patterns embroidered at the bottom to make it more noticeable. He also has an upper left pocket in the apron that he uses to tuck one flower in every day. It is usually roses of varying colors, but can be other flowers that mean love as well. Sometimes, his hair is tied back in a small low ponytail.

Vincent's design remains relatively the same, save for a kind of yellowish apron that goes over his outfit as well, and a pair of black gloves. His apron used to be white, but, given the nature of his work, it ended up giving it a look similar to old and yellowed book pages. It definitely has a few stains on it, but that comes with the job.

Manon retains her usual design. Can't improve perfection.

Zombie apocalypse AU

I had the vague idea for this AU, and @dollsteaparty helped me out with some other bits.

This AU is after the Table for One ending.

The zombie apocalypse happens and Rody primarily remains in his apartment during the beginning of it. He doesn't dare leave, and he doesn't even bother to look outside. The prospect of it scares him shitless, and for good reason. However, at some point he starts running out of food, and he can really only think of one good place in order to stock up. This forces him to finally venture out of his safe haven of his apartment and go back to Vincent's restaurant.

Unfortunately, Vincent is undead by this time, and isn't in a very good shape. His mouth is all fucked up and generally looks kinda like that one doodle in the upper left corner of a page by one of the devs that looked like it was based on a game or something. To make matters worse, he regained his ability to taste when he got turned in the first place, but his jaw is weakened and he can't bite down as well as he'd like or move it as much as he wants to most of the time. He can taste just fine but can't eat well, which has the expected side effect of pissing him off greatly with how ironic it is. Other than that, he's pretty well put together as a zombie, aside from the obvious ravenous behavior and poor muscle control that comes with being one in general.

When Rody does find Vincent, he's in the freezer room, and while Rody is strong enough to hold him off, it quickly becomes annoying to have to do. Eventually he's able to come to a compromise with Vincent, since apparently he's able to be reasoned with even in his current condition. Rody stitches up the sides of Vincent's jaw to the best of his ability to make it look more normal, but his handiwork isn't the best since his hands were so shaky. He was just nervous about them being near Vincent's mouth and the possibility of being bitten that comes with that.

The two then enter a relationship of forced codependency due to Vincent wanting to reopen his bistro even though it's the apocalypse since he's dead set on continuing business as usual and he can finally taste food, and Rody needing a safer place to stay where there's a food supply available, not to mention weapons. In fact, Rody's return helps the restaurant reopen, since beforehand people were too scared to enter the place, and they didn't even know it was technically still functional. It's still clean and everything too, because there was no way in hell Vincent would let his bistro fall into ruin.

The place becomes tense neutral ground where no violence is permitted in the dining area, and people are advised to use their best manners. It's a fine dining establishment and they will act accordingly. Both alive and undead customers show up, but now there's a sign outside the bistro that has a set of rules that everyone has to abide by if they wish to live. Besides, Vincent is capable of either reasoning with or even outright threatening other undead people if they don't act nice to their living counterparts while inside or around his esteemed establishment.

No one can have their weapons out or in view, customers cannot fight amongst themselves, no one except for staff are allowed in the kitchen, don't ask about the screams coming from the freezer, no one is advised to make sudden movements like running (something about predator drive and sudden movements making even valued customers look like prey), no one is advised to send the meals back to the kitchen since they most likely don't want their scent on it (they'll be associated with the food and have to be killed anyways), and if anyone has a problem, they can take it up with Vincent personally in the freezer. True to his word, Vincent still doesn't serve human meat... to his human customers. Any undead customers will usually be consuming human meat in their dishes because they can actually appreciate it.

Rody is the only one allowed to serve the customers in the dining area because all of the cooks working for Vincent are also undead, with the exception of the one cook that was fired since they got rehired. They help to desensitize their undead coworkers to a human in their midst, and also are a familiar face, so they have a lower risk of getting attacked. The zombified cooks and their fear of Vincent overrides any instincts that they might have as zombies, so he's capable of keeping them in line and certainly isn't afraid to enforce his rules in the kitchen. Both Vincent and his employees are in a much better preserved condition than any zombies outside the establishment due to them having access to a functional freezer. Also, Vincent does still pay whoever works for him. Vincent's apartment just upstairs has largely not been used in awhile, so that is where Rody stays, along with people who are looking for a safe place to stay for only one night. Vincent gets oddly upset when there's guests and Rody has to stay with them, but he does know it's for the better. Rody is also responsible for going on resource runs for cleaning supplies or ingredients, and for also stitching up the cooks when necessary.

Speaking of the cooks, sometimes they are put in the freezer on meat hooks as a form of solitary confinement for messing up very badly. They look miserable through that window in the freezer room door and Rody can very clearly see them when this does occur. That one human cook isn't stabbed with the meat hook and is usually just tied to it instead. If Rody gets the same treatment, he is usually tied up and left to sit on the floor for awhile, but typically doesn't remain in there for long since he either has to serve customers or Vincent deems his expression too 'unpleasant to look at' and lets him go anyways.

Character designs aren't too different aside from Vincent looking a little messed up in regards to his jaw, and Rody looking a lot more unkempt.

I also don't know where I'm going with this AU and if I particularly want Rody to be zombified or not... but I did think about a scenario where that would happen, as a treat. He would be turned by Vincent personally if he was dying somehow, and he'd probably try to get to his heart to eat it first before Rody turns completely. Something about wanting to taste what love really tastes like since it's his heart... and for Rody, laying his heart bare (literally in this case) and being able to love in such a way that it practically seems like he's serving his heart on a platter. Very big fan of the character design and what it could mean or show about him. Also I think Rody should lose the ear he lost in the actual game too. Just because.

As for that one human cook, Vincent would probably just get another cook to make them into a zombie if they were on the verge of death. They're not worth his time.

Plushie platonic soulmate AU

(Disclaimer: I actually am not fond of soulmate AUs in the traditional sense (aka almost exclusively romantic in nature) so this is platonic. Vincent is aspec to me in some way to begin with, so there's that too.)

During his emotional turmoil following his break up, Rody receives a mysterious plushie at his doorstep that looks like someone he’s never met before. He doesn’t know who sent it. This plushie is Vincent, but Rody doesn’t really know that yet. He’s heard of him since he’s a world renowned chef, but he’s not very familiar with his appearance. Either way, he reluctantly decides to keep the plushie, before eventually discarding it after it keeps showing up in his kitchen despite him putting it on a shelf somewhere. Also, his utensils seem to move in different places every day, so it’s creeping him out. It’s during this time that he’s looking for a job, but doesn’t take up the opportunity to work for Vincent, and instead opts for a simple fast food job. The Vincent plushie keeps showing up despite Rody’s attempts to get rid of it, so he just gives up and lets it remain in his apartment. One day, he wakes up to a fresh lemon tart, but no evidence that it was baked using his kitchen, especially since he doesn’t even have the ingredients to make that dessert. Beside it is the plushie, sitting there innocently.

On the other side of things, Vincent also receives a plushie of Rody that appears in his apartment one day on his living room table. He simply discards it, uncaring of where it came from. However, it keeps appearing again and again and it’s frustrating him to no end. At some point, he mutilates it with one of his knives, then trashes it again. When it comes back just as new, he puts it in plastic packaging and tosses it out of his window into the alley. When it returns yet again, he finally gets so fed up that he shoves it into the oven and sets it on fire that way. The plushie ends up coming back again and Vincent just puts it on his desk in his room, unwilling to mess with it anymore. He has no idea who the plushie was supposed to be because he’s never seen anyone like that before in his bistro. On top of this being strange, he also feels the strange urge to hide this plushie from Manon, since he doesn’t want her knowing that he has this. It’s unnatural and out of character for him to have something like that when it doesn’t serve any real purpose.

At some point, Rody and Vincent get to find the other person with their plushie counterpart and are both left thoroughly confused as to what it could mean.

Character designs for this AU do not vary.

Vincent forced therapy AU

Funnily enough, this AU came to me in a dream with one vague scene, and then it just went from there after discussing it with @vinylbiohazard. It's also exactly what it sounds like.

This AU is set after the Best Served Hot ending.

Vincent somehow survives after his restaurant was set on fire, but does have severe burns and some blood loss. The only reason why he doesn’t have severe blood loss is because the wound on his neck was cauterized by the flames, so it ended up not bleeding as much anymore. There’s still the glass shards that needed to be dealt with, though, so he does still need medical attention. One of the luckiest factors in this is how his restaurant was running out of cooking oil anyways, which is one of the reasons why he was even able to get out in the first place before his exits were blocked off.

Whenever the information of his bistro burning down becomes public, the general assumption of what happened is that he had been drunk, suddenly ‘snapped,’ and then tried to commit suicide while also taking his business with him. Essentially, his life is ruined, because he doesn’t seem too stable to the general population, and the media is having a field day with headlines. He does end up in the hospital trying to recover, and he’s not permitted to speak much for a while so his neck can heal. He technically still can since his vocal cords weren’t damaged, but it’s best that he doesn’t talk for some time. His neck is still in bad shape, but it could have been worse; the wine bottle that he was stabbed with narrowly missed the major veins and arteries in that area. By the end of everything, he does heal enough to look relatively normal, aside from the burns and scar tissue.

During this time, Rody is laying low at his apartment. He never comes out with the truth regarding his missing ear, and everyone just assumes that he lost it in an unrelated accident for being clumsy. While he would ideally like to stay away from the food industry, he does end up finding another job at a fast food place. When he learns that Vincent is still alive, he’s initially still upset, but since he’s had some time to cool down following the incident, he mostly just feels horrible. After all, he had expressed some concern about Vincent losing everything if something were to happen to his business. While not ready to approach him about it in the direct aftermath, Rody decides that he will try to talk it out with him at a later date.

As it gets closer to the day where Vincent can be released from the hospital, Rody shows up to talk to him, or, more accurately, speak his mind. He can talk to him without being interrupted, so he’s taking his opportunity to explain why he was so upset and why he acted the way he did. Adrenaline and trying to make rational decisions don’t mix well. Vincent has to sit there and listen to Rody rant for a little bit, all while he’s still not supposed to speak. At some point a nurse asks if the two were friends or something, and Rody has to awkwardly go along with it and say yes. Vincent is probably grumbling to himself mentally as this occurs.

Unfortunately, since Vincent’s apartment was above his restaurant, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go but Rody’s apartment following being released from the hospital. Rody’s not too happy with it either, but he’ll manage. In fact, he’s the reason why Vincent even gets to go to therapy in the first place. He’s the one to suggest it.

Vincent keeps taking Rody’s knives in his apartment because he doesn’t use them, they’re sharp, and he’s been considering killing Rody off anyways from being forced to live with him for so long. He has to keep getting them confiscated by Rody due to this. Whenever he’s scheduled to have therapy, however, he brings at least three knives with him and keeps them hidden. He doesn’t actually get to take them into the room where he’s supposed to have a therapy session and he has to begrudgingly give them all back to Rody beforehand. He may have been fully intending on using them to murder the therapist. It doesn’t look good for him, but he essentially has a mentality similar to ‘I’ve lost everything so why does it matter what I do now?’, so he doesn’t care.

There are no design changes for Rody in this AU, but Vincent has a few. There’s scar tissue on the right side of his neck from being stabbed there, as well as burn scars. There’s additional burns on most of his upper torso and arms. Any other burns aren’t as major, and most of them on his body healed over. In the hospital, he had bandages on over these while they were still healing.

[rainrot4me]

Smoke And A Light

Summary: When you're forced to remain a resident of the Slendermansion, hearing tales of the outside world is riveting. So, when Clockwork brings back some souvenirs, you couldn't possibly pass them up.

Characters: Clockwork x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Jealousy, weed, smoking, sex while high, vaginal, oral, vaginal fingering, sex with toys, dildos, strap-on sex, teasing, new experiences

Words: 8.2k

“Was it really that fun?” You chirped.

Clockwork leaned against the counter of the kitchen island, boots kicking the side of the stool she perched on as she took another drink from her coffee mug. She wasn’t a resident of the mansion; she wasn’t a resident of any mansion as far as you knew. The dirty blonde called herself a ‘drifter’, always bouncing between towns and interstates with her Jeep, but never rooted in one place for too long. However, most of her closest acquaintances resided at the Slendermansion, so it just so happened to be where she spent most of her downtime.

“It was odd… but good?” She smiled awkwardly, tapping her knuckles against the ceramic mug nicely decorated with doodles Sally had made. She tugged at the sleeve of her white tank top, the fabric dirty and frail, but notably bringing out the brightness of her pupil. You were getting better about keeping contact with her right eye, subconsciously finding it rude to stare at the clockface nestled into her left socket.

Somehow, your conversation had dipped on Clockwork’s latest excursion to the south, farther into the Appalachian than you were familiar with. She talked about the nightlife music festivals in Tennessee and Alabama, the older folk songs they paired with raving strobe lights, and how it just worked. You could barely imagine it, but then again, you hadn’t really been in with society in quite some time.

As long as you had been living in the mansion, which had been quite some time now, Clockwork was always on the move. Much like Sally, you had been brought here very young and grown up around this atmosphere and losing track of how the rest of the world was going. You were in charge of minuscule tasks, wasting away behind these walls with random assignments Slender could throw at you. While you were forced to stay and help with missions assigned to the proxies, she got to roam wherever she wanted. To say you were jealous was an understatement. If there was a chance you were going to get to hear firsthand about the rest of the world, you were going to take it… no matter how much it tired her out.

“So, you just smoked some weird plant and everything started spinning? Was it scary?” You leaned forward, crowding Clockwork’s space and tilting your head, curious as ever. She just laughed, somehow never becoming annoyed with just how excitable you could get, always keeping that cool demeanor you admired so much. She leaned in, nudging her knuckles against your arm and rubbing the skin softly.

“Well, it was a little more than that, but, sure. I brought some back with me. Stuff’s pretty expensive though…” She huffed, gulping the rest of her coffee down and sliding the mug away. You followed as she stood from the counter, her one good eye trailing to look outside. You followed her gaze, groaning when you caught Toby and Jeff sitting on the front porch steps and chatting away. You knew of Clockwork’s history with the brunette, their on-again off-again relationship becoming a constant wall in your quality time with the girl before she inevitably left for the road once more.

You went to interject, to try and come up with another topic or question to stop her from going to talk to him, but you already heard your name being called. 

“[Y/N]! Come help with this, will ya?” Ben mosied from the hallway, looping into the mansion’s kitchen and catching you mid-interjection. He was holding some box of files and reports, surely incident records from the proxies you would need to take care of. You groaned as she shuffled to your side.

Clockwork was reaching for her Carhartt jacket, her hands reaching to brush her long hair out onto her shoulders while she turned back to you. The look of disappointment was evident, but she smiled sweetly anyway, inviting as ever. You didn’t want her to leave.

“Listen, I’m gonna chat with the guys for a little bit. Come find me later tonight. I’ll show you what we were talking about.” With that, she turned to the screen door and tugged it open, disappearing onto the porch and out of your eyesight as Ben nudged your attention back.

“What’s that about?” He smirked, static ringing with his words as you huffed, snagging the box from his arms and trailing down the hallway. “Nothing. Just help me with this.”

Ben floated down the hallway behind you, humming absentmindedly as you took one final glance back towards the window. Toby was already shoulder-to-shoulder with Clockwork, her laughs ringing into the house as you felt your time chipping away.

-

After a headachingly long splay of all the missing person’s reports and incident retellings, you finally sorted everything out and filed completely. Of course, Ben didn’t help a bit, more focused on his ability to play his Gameboy floating upside down than anything.

But you were finished. It was well into the evening now, the sun setting along the ridge of trees and rippling on the lake water nearby. You pressed through the screen door, no one was left on the front porch, but a very ominous thumping sound from somewhere in the distance. Your breath fogged in front of you, the chill of late Autumn slowly creeping on the mansion. You followed, trailing away from the porch and along to the side where the carport sat.

“Guys?” You called out, the thumping growing louder the further you trailed into the opening beside the mansion, searching for the source. EJ’s truck and Hoodie’s car parked in the ankle-tall grass, your steps cautious as you spotted Clockwork’s Jeep several feet away, the thumping becoming mostly clear. The vehicle was nestled between a lot of trees, brown and orange leaves blowing gently overhead. You noticed the headlights were on, and figures moving around behind the tinted glass. They were in there.

Jogging over to the vehicle, you recognized the thumping as the bass of songs cranked way too loud, the music blasting from the speakers inside. You rounded to the door behind the driver’s, knocking on the glass and waiting expectantly.

The door popped open, the music ringing clear as some Foo Fighters song. You also noted the way smoke faintly poured from the opening, blowing into your face as Clockwork popped her head out. “[Y/N]!” She smiled, her tone just a little more chipper than you were used to. She reached a hand out, clasping with yours and tugging you into the back seat of her Jeep along with the rest of the unseeming group. 

You crammed your way in, ducking into the back seat as you realized she had converted the interior of the vehicle for her travels. The backseats were laid down, a blowup mattress inflated into the truck as her bed, blankets and pillows littered around. Fairy lights and tealight candles strung from the ceiling, offering a nice ambiance as smoke clouded inside. It was cozy for one person, but with Toby and Jeff also laid out, it was a little cramped.

“Where’ve you been, angel?” You halted at the new nickname, smiling as you fully climbed inside. Clockwork shut the back door, leaning back into the pillows she had propped behind her and patting the space across from herself. You obliged, nestling into the opposite corner and nodding to the boys who were mid-conversation themselves. You noted their odd expressions, the laziness in their eyes, and the calmness that neither one of them usually sported. It was odd to see Jeff without a scowl on his face. 

“Sorry. Slender had me working on some cover-story stuff… boring.” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable sitting position in the closeness of everyone. It was then you noted the odd smell too, the sour stoutness of the smoke wafting in the Jeep, a scent you couldn't quite recognize. Clockwork smiled, “Sure sounds boring. It’ll be good for you to chill with us.” You nodded eagerly, the headache you had slowly dissipated with every inhale of the mysterious smoke. You noticed the way her good eye tinted red, bloodshot veins popping around the rim of her eye and making you cringe. Both Toby's and Jeff’s eyes were bloodshot too…

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen [Y/N] chill a day in her life…” Jeff smiled lazily, elbowing Toby who answered with a scratchy giggle. Clockwork kicked at them, rolling her eyes playfully as she tugged you closer to her side. “Well, she’s going to today. Ain’t that right?” You nodded as she laughed, leaning to grab something from the passenger seat.

Her backpack was full of clutter, her hand rummaging around until she grasped what she was looking for. She tugged out a glass mason jar, little rolled-up objects sliding around as she held it up, the boys hollering their excitement. You were confused, trying to see what they were as Clockwork unscrewed the top and shuffled one out, presenting it before you.

“Uhm… what is it…” You laughed shyly, Jeff leaning forward to snag it from your palms. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never smoked a blunt before…” He teased, Toby leaning forward to tug a lighter from his jacket pocket and offer it to the killer, the brunette practically sitting in his lap as he watched the flame smolder against the bud. You realized where the stout smell was coming from as smoke wafted from the blunt, the story Clockwork was telling you earlier in the day coming together. So this is what she smoked… That also meant this was very well their second or third blunt, no telling how high they all were or wanted to be.

Toby slipped the smoldering bud from Jeff’s fingers the minute to flipped the lighter closed, popping the end between his lips and taking a deep inhale. Jeff leaned close, pressing his cheek against the boy’s and tugging it into his own when Toby let go, inhaling the same. You studied them, taking note of how they went about smoking the plant to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself. 

You glanced to Clockwork, her own lighter sparking up as she popped a cigarette into her mouth, lighting the end. You nudged her, a questioning look on your face.

“Are you not going to?” You hesitated as she inhaled, puffing the smoke past her lips and in the boy’s direction with a smile. She shook her head, holding the cigarette between her fingers as smoke surrounded the two of you, encasing everyone in the vehicle as the music thumped from the speakers.

“Nah, I already got my fill. Gonna let these idiots enjoy it. It’s not often they get to smoke without Slender on their asses.” You glanced back to the boys carelessly lounging against each other as they passed the blunt back and forth, minds swirled with the sourness of the weed. You smiled, glancing back to Clockwork dishing out another and handing it to you, lighter flipped in the other hand. “Go ahead, try it.”

You nervously took the bud, fidgeting it between your fingers as she guided the end to your lips. You held the blunt there, Clockwork flipping her lighter on and pressing the flame to the end, the roll smoldering before you. It was hard not to note the way she stared at you as she helped you, two fingers slipped under your chin as you let yourself stare back. When she was satisfied, she flipped the lighter closed, tugging back into her comfortable position as smoke began to swirl around you.

“Now, inhale. Let it sit in your lungs for a second, then blow it back out.” Her voice was scratchy but soothing, the roughness of her usual demeanor nowhere to be found as you followed her instructions the best you could. You tried to remember how you watched the boys do it, breathing deep as the tip of the blunt lit up, soaking down into your lungs. You held it there, stalling your breath as it burned, throat tightening as you quickly exhaled back again. 

Smoke blew from your lips, and a fit of coughs soon followed as Clockwork patted your back. You sucked fresh air in, lungs burning from the weed as Jeff and Toby laughed obnoxiously across from you.

“Hey, that wasn’t bad! Not such a big inhale next time, okay?” Clockwork rubbed your shoulders, offering you a water bottle from the front seat of her Jeep as you finally caught your breath, sinking back into the pillows behind you. You let yourself take one more small hit, passing the blunt to an eager Toby who had no problem with finishing the rest. There was no telling what was enjoyable about that, or why the three of them were so excited, but you ruled that was enough for you.

Conversation bubbled, Clockwork quickly occupied Jeff and Toby’s muddled brains with her latest retellings of the concerts and festivals she had attended. You listened closely, wrapping a blanket around your crossed legs and smiling when the boys nudged their way beside you to get underneath as well, legs wrapping together as sour smoke and loud music filled your senses.

But eventually, it became muddled. Like the music was becoming distant or muffled, farther away than you remembered it being. 

Before you could dwell on it, sensations rose, odd feelings and reactions you found intriguing. Where the boy’s legs tangled with yours, they felt tingly, like you could feel every part of their skin that touched yours. The sensation was overwhelming, but not nearly as much as trying to focus on every word that poured from Clockwork’s mouth. Suddenly, she was speaking too fast, words slurring as you tried to blink the dizziness away. What in the world was happening..?

But it just felt so warm, so comfortable lying against Toby and Jeff, your arms wrapping around their shoulders as Clockwork began to laugh and say something about it finally hitting you. You just laughed too, you weren’t sure why, but just seeing her smile was enough to make you as well. The boys laughed too, a swirl of dizziness and warmth pooling across your face as you drank in the atmosphere. Was this what being high was like?

Clockwork began talking again, flicking the last of her cigarette into her ashtray and reaching for a water bottle, starting a new story again. You didn’t know what she was saying, but suddenly you really wanted to lay with her, to be beside her. You didn’t even realize your body was moving until she was wrapping her arms around you.

“Hi, angel.” She smiled, your head lying in her lap as she brushed the hair from your face. The sensation felt so tingly, your eyes fluttering closed as you listened to the slur of her words and the brush of her fingers against your skin. Everything just seemed so heightened, felt so good… You never wanted to leave this moment. Especially not with the girl you idolized so much right here with you.

She was just so cool. You found yourself in awe of just how strong and steady she seemed to always be, always knowing exactly what she wanted out of life. You couldn’t get enough. You craved to be like that.

“Y’all guh- gonna kiss, or wh- what…” Toby chuckled, elbowing Jeff who laughed just a little too loud. Clockwork visibly tensed above you, halting her fingers across your skin and eyeing the boy. “Toby.” Her voice was still playful, but the hint of seriousness didn’t go unnoticed. You watched her face, mind now racing with the idea and playing clear pictures in your mind. Do I want to kiss her..?

The thought had never passed you before, but then again, you had never been offered it before. To you, Clockwork was an idol, an ideal version of who you wished to be. You had never contemplated anything more… until now.

“Are we?” You slurred the words out before you could really stop them, leaning up onto your elbows as you watched her expression twist to confusion. Jeff and Toby’s laughter fell silent, watching intently as you held eye contact, trying to read whatever she was thinking. Music thumped, the tension of the silence making your eyes nervously flicker back and forth.

“Do you want to...?” Clockwork shrugged, shifting her sitting position to face you, her cheeks notability growing a shade darker than before. You paused, contemplating. There was no tinge of nervousness behind you, the false courage brought in by your high suprinsing even yourself as you nodded. Even when nervous, she still just looked so cool. 

The moments in between were quick, silent tension slowly fading as you both leaned forward. Was Clockwork even high? Were you even still high? You couldn’t think further as you felt her hands slide to rest against the sides of your face, your arms wrapping around her back as she pressed her lips against yours. You both gasped into the kiss, slowly tightening your grip against each other as the rest of the atmosphere faded. Your consciousness only registered this kiss, your eager but curious lips melting into hers as your mind flooded, dizziness and drowsy exhaustion tugging at your movements. This was really happening…

Clockwork tugged back before you wanted to be done, your head leaning to chase her kiss as you blinked your eyes open. You were both panting, her hands still cupped around your cheeks as she stared down at you, mentally registering what had just happened.

“That was hot.” Toby hummed, Jeff nodding along as they gripped the blanket tighter.

Clockwork groaned, letting off of you as she tugged the blanket and pillows from their arms, reaching to pop the back door of the Jeep open.

“Alright boys, shows over. Go to bed.” The night air flooded the vehicle, smoke swooping out into the wind as the two exasperatingly climbed out, mumbling their annoyance of wanting to see more. You sat back, combing over what had just happened and reaching for the water bottle you were handed earlier, nervously taking sips.

Clockwork shut the door, sighing as she leaned back into the pillows and swiped her hands over her face, groaning. You wanted to apologize, the haziness of the weed finally seeping its last wave over you as the tension bubbled, silence the only thing between you.

“I’m sorry…” You grit, picking at your fingers as Clockwork looks up at you, smiling. 

“For?” She was beginning to lean forward again, the nervousness you should've been feeling earlier finally rousing in your gut. At least, that’s what you thought it was. You weren’t expecting the tears to pool in your eyes and drip down your cheeks. And you definitely weren’t expecting the words to bubble out so suddenly.

“I’m sorry for kissing you in front of Toby…” You hiccuped, swiping the tears from your eyes as more pooled, Clockwork immediately pressing towards you. “I know you two are… are a thing… I’m sorry…” Evidently, your high had not worn off.

“Angel…” Clockwork shushed you, reaching to wipe the tears from your eyes and brush the stray hairs from your face. She cupped your cheeks to look at her, concern lacing her expression as you tried to stop your whining. “What are you talking about..?” She laughed awkwardly.

You leaned into her touch, trying to gauge her tone as you took deep breaths. “Like, aren’t you and Toby dating… I’m sorry…” The tears welled again, but rough fingers were quick to swipe them away. “[Y/N], Toby and I haven’t been together in a long time.” 

You watched her face for any sign of a joke, shaky breaths steadying out when you couldn’t find any. She just smiled that same sympathetic smile she always gave you, your cheeks heating up again. You reached to cup her hands on your cheeks, making sure she wouldn’t pull away. “Really?”

“Really.”

You both sat in the silence, your head spinning from the exhaustion of your crying, but Clockwork was sure to let you lean on her. She tugged you close, leaning back into the pillows and scooping your head to lay next to hers. She reached back to grip the dial of the radio and turn the music down, a soft thump ringing as the fairy lights twinkled overhead. You just now noticed how mesmerizing they were, only breaking your trance when you felt the same rough fingers tracing your cheekbones.

You glanced beside you, Clockwork’s face suddenly a lot closer than you remembered it being. “Why’re you so worried about me and Toby?” She teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You had always known Clockwork was a strong girl. Not just mentally, but physically. Being this close, you could see every indent of muscle on her shoulders and arms, her bicep tensing as she leaned closer to you. It was mesmerizing the way you suddenly realized her stature swallowed you whole. Not to mention the way her abs teased from the way her tank top rode up her abdomen.

“[Y/N]…” Clockwork cooed. Shit, you were staring. You shook your head, forcing your eyes to meet with hers again.

“I wasn’t worried… I’m not- Just-” 

“Worried enough to cry… but kiss me anyway?”

She was throwing you for a loop now, probing your hazy brain for an answer you didn’t know she wanted. You groaned, clasping your hands over your face and trying to shrivel away. “I don’t know…”

“Well, maybe we need to find out, then.” You peeked from behind your fingers, Clockwork’s smug expression filling your vision as she tugged your hands down, wrapping her fingers with your own. You were tense, unsure how to move or what to say, but trying your best not to make a further fool of yourself.

Jealousy, idolization, a crush…? You wanted to contemplate it, you wanted to talk it over so there wasn’t any room for awkwardness. You waited desperately for the days she would come and visit, buying your time with every second she stayed until inevitably left you behind again. It wasn’t her fault, she was living her life.

But what if you wanted that life too…?

What if…

Soon your vision was invaded by her, rough hands cupping the sides of your cheeks to draw you closer as your lips pressed firm. You gasped into the kiss, tilting your head to sink further into her grasp as you wrapped your arms behind her back. Nails dug into the fabric of her tank top, stretching the cloth and pushing her closer to you, lips swiping across the other.

Clockwork was groaning, the remaining dizziness of the weed swirling overhead and seeping into every touch she gave you. It was intoxicating. You felt like you couldn’t get close enough, like no matter how close you pulled her she was still too far away. You let your tongue slip past her lips, false courage giving you a boost.

The dirty blonde obliged, letting her tongue swirl with yours as she trailed her hands down to your sides. She hooked her fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you up off of your knees.

“C’mere…” She grumbled against your kisses, pulling you to swing your leg over her thighs and straddle her hips. You sunk back into her, wrapping your arms around her neck and gliding your tongue along the warmth of her mouth. You couldn’t get enough, drinking in her smell and her taste, suffocating in it. It was almost better than getting high. Wait-

You pushed back off of her shoulders, disconnecting your mouths and leaving you both itching for more. 

“Wait. This is wrong. We’re both high, and you’re definitely going to regret this and I-” The words jumbled out quickly, Clockwork knotting her brow as she clamped a palm over your puffy lips to silence your panic.

“[Y/N], I’m not high. Maybe a little sleepy, but definitely not high.”

You still kept her back, elbows braced as you forced yourself not to stare at her lips. “So… you want to kiss me? You’re not just doing it 'cause you’re high?” Clockwork was laughing again, letting her fingers rub against your hips as you waited patiently for her answer, unsure why she was finding it so funny.

“I told you, I’m not high. Besides, why do you think I keep coming to see you if I don’t like you enough to kiss you?” Your thoughts were mush, pieces not connecting the way they should’ve been. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought… but at least she was there to take care of you.

You did catch the way she smiled though, brushing the hair off of your face and rubbing at your sides. And the way she said she liked you.

“Do you… like-like me? Or just friend-like me…?” 

“Just kiss me, [Y/N].”

Your back was being pushed into the blow-up mattress as Clockwork’s lips pressed against yours again. You melted again, brain entering that fuzzy state where the only thing you could register was how good you felt. She towered over you, your eyes peeking open to catch glances of the way her shoulder muscles strained above you, or the way her biceps flexed when she scooped your leg to wrap around her waist. You clung on, surprised at the sensation when she pressed her hips down, friction rutting against the crotch of your jeans.

“Ah- Jeez-” You whined when her lips dipped further along your jaw, wet kisses planted along your neck and collarbones. She was a lot more eager than before, hunger sweeping over you both as you let your hands tangle into her shaggy hair. Every press of her lips or grip of her hands was doubled in sensation, tingles and chills sweeping through your body and writhing for more. “Feels good…”

Clockwork nibbled at your shoulders, tugging the collar of your shirt aside to suck on the bare skin. She smiled at your whines, grinding her hips lower to bump the stretch of your jeans against your clit. The sensation made your back shoot off the mattress, fingers digging into her shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“Again- Do that again-” You whined out, wrapping your legs around her waist to roll your hips, searching for that same sensation. Clockwork obliged, her hands planted on either side of your head as she raised up to carefully angle her hips against yours.

She rolled them down, the crotch of her jeans roughly gliding on yours and bumping your clothed clits together. You moaned, hands wrapping around her shoulders as you watched, trying your best to meet her every movement and catch that feeling. You whined when she stopped, pouting your lip before you felt warm hands slinking up into your shirt.

“Been waiting on you to fess up for a long time now, angel. It was pretty hard trying to act like I couldn’t tell you were obsessed with me.” She spoke between kisses on your cheek, tugging your back off the mattress to slide your shirt over your head and to the side. “Hard to not miss you, too.” You leaned into her touches, chasing the warmth as her words muddled your thoughts. You couldn’t get enough of looking at her, the fairy lights overhead blinding you slightly, but Clockwork’s frame covering you soothingly.

“Keep doin’ that thing-” You smiled, pushing your hips up in a desperate attempt to create that wonderful sensation again, your clit already throbbing. The dirty blonde grinned above you, leaning back onto her knees to slide her tank top off, her sports bra contorting against her strong build in the most mouth-watering way. “Anything for you, angel.”

Your jeans were being unbuttoned as you reached for her again, tugging her close to steal quick kisses as she worked on tugging your pants down your thighs. Your heart was beating so fast, excitement pumping through to your fingertips when she finally tugged the fabric off of your ankles. Despite the cramped backseat of the Jeep, you felt so free, so comfortable to hold and touch the girl you idolized so dearly. And she was touching you, and you couldn’t get enough.

Clockwork tugged her own jeans off of her legs, sliding the stray clothes to the side as she readjusted her boxer briefs. Jesus, even the underwear she wore was cool. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of her belly button piercing, the small silver ball complimenting her toned stomach wonderfully. She tugged your hips over hers, kneeling between your spread legs as she slid her hands across your excited body. Every touch was electrifying, goosebumps rising wherever her fingernails scraped your skin.

You waited expectantly, trying your best not to seem restless as Clockwork leaned back to grab the glass mason jar from the front seat. You watched cautiously as she fished another blunt out, eyeing you carefully while she popped the roll between her lips and reached for her lighter in the back pocket of her jeans. Once again the sour smell of weed filled your senses, mind already swaying as Clockwork inhaled deeply before leaning back down over you.

Grabbing your jaw, she pressed your lips open with her thumb and steadied herself back into a kiss. You sighed as she pressed firm against you, taking a long exhale into your kiss and passing the smoke into your lungs. You tried your best to inhale, breathing deeply as the sour taste wafted through your windpipe. There was no helping when you began to cough, though.

“Easy… deep breathes…” She cooed, leaning back to take another hit off of the blunt before flicking ashes into the nearby ashtray. Clockwork handled you so carefully, making sure you didn’t get choked as you exhaled, blowing the smoke up into the air. “Atta’ girl…” She smiled, passing the bud between your fingertips as she began to slink down your abdomen.

“I thought you weren’t getting high-” You awkwardly shifted with her, spreading your legs to fit around her shoulders. 

“Changed my mind. You’re gonna wanna feel this too…” She pushed your hand back to your mouth, beckoning you to take another hit of the smoldering plant. You did, not ignoring the way Clockwork’s cheeks darkened as you blew the smoke in her direction, smiling coyly. “Feel what?”

The familiar haziness fogging your brain was coming back, senses heightening slowly as Clockwork slipped your panties down your thighs and with the rest of the discarded clothes. You stalled, body burning up as she kissed along your hips and thighs, pecking at the skin just close enough to make you squirm. “Cumming when you’re high is heavenly. I think you ‘oughta try it out…” 

She kissed right on the puffy lips of your cunt, drawing her hands between your thighs to spread them further. You shuddered, heavy eyes watching as Clockwork stared up at you, her one good eye already becoming bloodshot. Her tongue takes a long, achingly good stripe between your folds, soaking up your dripping arousal as you gasp, stomach clenching. “Mmn- So wet already…”

Your knees jerked as she flicked her tongue across your clit, letting your head fall back into the mattress with a groan. “F- Fuck…” It all felt so tingly, so electrifying as she dove her tongue between your puffy lips again. Your high was setting in again, the feeling of her tongue slowly pushing past the tight muscle of your entrance enhanced to feel so nauseatingly good. She was drinking every inch of you up.

“Feel good, angel? You taste amazing…” She mumbled against you, running her tongue to lap up your juices before centering on your clit again. You whined when she sucked the nub, static shooting through your abdomen and arching your back off of the makeshift bed. “Y- Yeah-” You give such a harsh pull on her soft strands, it has her leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. “Need more- Ah!”

Clockwork answers with a stout suck on your clit, delving deeper to press her tongue inside your gummy cunt once again. Your fingers of your free hand grip her hair tightly, stuttering your hips to get her deeper- closer- You almost scream out when you feel a thumb press onto your aching nub.

You’re writhing, barely able to hold the blunt in your opposite hand from how much your body is aching for release. Every movement of her tongue and fingers is sending you reeling, gasping for air as pulses of arousal reach every nerve ending. “You’re so close, pretty girl. Come on, come on-”

A rough pass of her thumb back and forth across your clit has you straining, cunt clenching down so intensely you dig your head into the plushness of the mattress. It feels like you’ve exploded, cunt twitching and aching so good you can barely see the fairy lights overhead. Clockwork rides you through, leaving her arousal-soaked tongue inside to lap up every inch of your crumbling ecstasy. She’s pushing back, practically moaning at how tight you’re tugging her hair.

The pounding in your head subsided when she finally let off, pressing her fingers to spread your soaked lips and view just how aroused you were. You were practically dripping. It was so violent - so dragged out, like no orgasm you’ve ever had before. She snatched the blunt from your wobbly fingers, popping the end between her lips and taking a hearty drag before handing it back to you.

Clockwork’s above you again, panting desperately as she clasps down on your neck, breathing deep as she leaves chaste kisses and bites along the stretch of skin. “Look so pretty when you cum, y’know?” You’re dizzy, legs spread around her hips and hands wrapping around her shoulder blades to claw for more. “Wanna help- Need- need you to-”

“No. Gotta show you all the best feelings, alright?” She sounded so much more intense, so in charge, as she pushed off of you. Being high made you hazy and aloof, but it made Clockwork rough and dominant. There was no fighting her intentions as you tried to calm your still-dizzy aftershock. She moved so hungrily, so eager to please.

Her hands were in her bag again, pushing junk around until she hauled out a smaller baggie, the drawstrings cinched. “Got this a bit ago- You’re gonna love it.”

You nearly cried when she tugged out a thick, realistic-shaped dildo. You sat up, nervousness ticking through your body as you watched her fish for something else in the bag too.

“Wanna try?”

You were nodding before you even realized it, Clockwork fishing a small bottle of lube from the bag and discarding the rest, something else clearly inside. You let her hands push you back against the mattress, prying her hands between your tired thighs and massaging your sensitive skin. You took another hit of the blunt, the sourness soaking in and calming your chattering nerves before you tossed the smoldering roll onto the ashtray.

But they started right back up again when Clockwork reached to unclasp your bra, pulling the fabric off of your tits and instantly latching onto your nipples. You whined, tangling fingers into her hair and tugging her up, pulling her to your stuttering lips. “Wanna feel it-”

Clockwork smiled her eagerness as she leaned off of you, tugging her own bra over her head and reaching for the dildo again. You gaped at her, the pure eagerness she held as you heard the lube bottle cap pop open, Clockwork careful not to drip any as she let the liquid trail down the erotic toy. You tried to keep your breathing steady, watching carefully as she moved the bottle from the toy over to your whiny cunt, letting the liquid droop down between your folds. You gasped, the cold feeling making chills spread as she leaned close again. “Can’t wait to taste you on this thing…” She sneered, kissing the tip of the toy so teasingly you shuddered. 

“Please-” Clockwork’s sharp canines tugged at your bottom lip, you moaning into the messy clash of the kiss as you felt the cold silicone slap gently against your folds. “Please- fuck m’burning up-” You choke, angling your hips to try and press the head inside. There was nothing you wanted more, cunt clinging and crying for stimuli again until Clockwork was laughing against you. “So whiny…” She nicked a kiss against your shoulder.

You glanced down through heavy eyelids, the dildo sitting so heavily sandwiched between your swollen folds and just teasing to be slid inside. The silicone glistened with the lube, your lips pouting when you angled your hips further to slide inside, only for Clockwork to tug it back. You whined, her kisses along your neck halting as she breathed against your ear. “Easy, pretty girl, let me handle it.”

She was pushing your back up, sliding behind you, and tugging you into her lap, her strong arms wrapping around your torso. “Lay back, angel… Spread your legs for me…” She was coaxing your every move, pulling your knees back to angle the toy at your willing cunt. You were practically vibrating, arms reaching back to grasp onto her shoulders as she began to push.

“Yes-” Before Clockwork could tease you anymore, she was giving a slow, nauseating slide into your cunt. And then you couldn’t breathe- you couldn’t manage anything but a desperate moan. Pressing your shoulders back into her chest, she let the slick toy stretch you open. The push against your entrance had you mewling, senses heightened to a dangerous degree as your head pounded between your ears. The girth slid in, pressing against your velvety walls and finding your arousal clamping down. “Oh-” Clockwork’s gasping when she finally got the hilt of the toy to slap against your folds, bottoming out inside of you and leaving your head spinning. You felt so full, so incredibly stretched. It wasn’t like normal, your high was making it feel like every twitch of your cunt could wrack your body.

You tried to glance back at her, your heavy eyelids making your vision blurry as she began to move, her arm straining to tug the toy from the tight ring of your entrance and push it back in. “There we go… Feel it out…” She nibbled against your earlobe, wet kisses soaking into your skin as sweat beaded on your forehead, your body aching. The push was numbing, every jostle of the toy in and out leaving you strained for more, body pleading to go faster.

“Wanna- Wanna feel you-” Your nails were digging into her shoulders, hips stuttering to plow deeper, Clockwork driving her arm as fast as she could. “Fuck- Alright, alright-”

She gave one last drive of the toy, gripping your hand to reach down and hold it there as she slid out from behind you, laying you down. You whined, confused and desperate to have her back on you again, beginning to lean up until you saw her reach for the baggie again.

“Hold on, angel. Keep stretchin’ yourself, alright?” She looked so hazy, her cheeks dark and eye bloodshot as you obliged, leaning back on your elbow to slowly tug the toy in and out. You felt so light now, dizzily fucking yourself as Clockwork tugged what looked like a belt out of the baggie, your confusion evident.

She unclipped the straps, tugging her boxer briefs down and strapping it around her muscled thighs. You halted your movements, leaning up to watch as she snugged the fabric around, positioning it how she needed it as she reached for the toy between your thighs.

“Lay back…” She coaxed as she slotted the toy into the holster in the fabric, snugging it down to look like she was sporting her own cock. You smiled, suddenly finding the sight very funny as you leaned forward, resting your hands on her shoulders.

Clockwork sat back into the pillows, confusion striking her features and she stroked the toy, her intentions set on fucking you. You couldn’t help but want more though, turning around to lean back, the toy sliding between your thighs as you sat back on her lap. “Fuck…” Clockwork groaned, hands gripping your hips to tug you back.

You gripped the toy, your cunt throbbing as you pushed the head against your entrance, sitting back to let it slide in the same aching way as before. “Ah-” Your knees dug into the mattress, hands resting atop Clockwork’s as the silicone spread your entrance, the familiar stretch making you smile. Your jaw went slack, puffy lips holding open as your ass pressed back against strong hips. You tried not to stutter as you felt the hilt again, Clockwork huffing her arousal behind you.

“Looks so good, angel. Fuck my cock, just like that…” She smiled, leaning forward to nip your shoulder again, chills filling you. You were bouncing back, hips bumping with electric slaps as you rode back on the dildo. It was reaching deeper now, every inch schlicking further than before as you fucked your fack onto the length. You felt so dizzy, so cockdrunk as Clockwork groaned into your shoulder, moaning every time you did.

A snap of your hips told you she was feeling it too, the toy hilt grinding down onto her clit with every slap back, practically fucking you both. You let your jaw go slack, reaching back to wrap your fingers around the straps on her thighs, tugging them closer. Clockwork followed, snapping her hips to push into you every time you sat back, meeting your thrusts. 

“Sh-Shit-” You felt your gummy walls clamping, straining to keep the toy as deep inside as she could fuck into you, arching your back sinfully to get it deeper.

Clockwork’s moan made you flinch, her forehead falling against your shoulder as she reached around, pushing your ass off abruptly as she fiddled with the base of the dildo. You were confused, impatient tinges of your hips making her giggle. You were about to push her hand out of the way, upset by the lack of movement until you heard the small click of a dial.

Your chest tightened, the clamp in your abdomen knotting as you felt the loud vibration knocking against your g-spot. Clockwork moaned out, a cut-off gasp making your eyes roll as she began to fuck into you again, the rumbling toy lodging itself inside.

You suddenly couldn’t keep your composure, your knees sliding out as you fell chest-first into the plush mattress, Clockwork gripping your hips to follow you down.

“Push back- There you go…” She was huffing as you arched your back, her hands pressing down on your shoulders to keep your face smashed into the fabric, sweat beading and dripping off of your skin. You’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body as she snaps her hips into yours. Muffled moans and desperate claws against bare skin are the only things you can register, the absolute abusing stretch of the toy inside of your plush walls making you reel.

“Thought you could take it, huh? Wanted it so bad.” She was teasing you now, venom and arousal dripping from her every word, her quick pants loud behind you. “Hah-” Your back arches up sluttily into her as her rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, her thrusts picking up pace. She was feeling it, you could tell by the way every time you felt the hilt on your puffy lips she was cracking out a moan too. The vibration was wrecking you both.

“Feels so good…” You’re mewling, reaching back to grip onto those straps again as she claws into your shoulders. You hold her legs there, not letting her thrust anymore as you begin to grind back, spine arching as far as you can get it.

The vibration of the toy is puffy on her clit, the hilt rumbling against the nub and making Clockwork choke out curses. You let the head press deep, stretching against taught muscles inside and ruling you over. 

Convulsing over and over under her firm press, you can feel your orgasm clamping down on your abdomen again. “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” You’re choking out, hips stuttering back to grind against the girth. Clockwork’s snarling, taking deep breaths as she ruts her hips too, chasing the same feeling.

You’re dizzy, the pure wave after wave of arousal crashing into your body like a weight, your eyes rolling so far into your head you can barely see. Your cunt clenches, pulsing around the toy that's still rumbling inside of you to milk out every last round of your orgasm. Clockwork is shaking above you, hips jerking and thighs shaking as you hold her close by the straps, her body weight cascading on top of yours. “Christ-”

Your hips let out, falling flat against the mattress as she lays on top, breathing through her wilting shock until she's able to pull out, snapping the clasps undone and tossing the toy to the side. 

You’re both panting, cunts swelled and aching from exhaustion as you cling together, sweaty bodies sticking close. It’s all you can do not to fall asleep right then, the overexertion of your still-high mind making everything seem so fuzzy. The sour smell still surrounded you, the thumping of the music inside the Jeep slowly coming back as you settle your nerves. 

“Can’t- Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that-” Clockwork pants out, her nose finding its way to the crook of your neck and taking deep inhales. You were ecstatic, body too tired to show it but mind running a mile a minute. “I’m just upset it took me getting high to do it…” You sighed back, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and drawing her close, the fairy lights overhead looking all too close to stars and making you so, so sleepy.

Clockwork drags a blanket over to you two, throwing the warm fabric over top and nudging her way back against your side. You’re blinking slowly, trying to stay awake and contemplate, but your brain refusing to compute.

“I don’t want you to leave…” You’re whining quietly, tangling your fingers into her hair as her strong arms clasp around your sides.

“Come with me, then…” She whispered back, kissing your shoulder gently.

You wanted to answer, to reason that you couldn't just leave, that you couldn't just disappear…

You were both breathing steadily, minds quietly fizzling out as you made up your mind.

-

“No fuckin’ way.” Jeff is snickering, bumping your shoulder as you tug a drink from the fridge. Your eyes are heavy, exhaustion still steady as Clockwork slides behind you, grabbing milk for her coffee.

“Watch it.” She’s warning, placing a hand on your hip to slide past you as Jeff continues his tease.

The killer can’t stop staring at the wilts on your neck, the dark hickies and lovebites that gave off the events of last night. You hadn’t realized they were there until you had awoken in the backseat of the Jeep this morning, head pounding and body impossibly sore. Clockwork couldn’t get enough of them though, admiring how nice they looked.

However, she was leaving soon, bags already packed and buying her time with one last breakfast. It didn’t take much convincing for your bags to be shoved in the back too, scooping everything you cared to bring and hauling it down to the Jeep quietly.

“Oh, shit-” Toby was next, tugging the neck of your shirt back but quickly getting a slap on the hand from Clockwork. They were both laughing, Toby gave her a silent nod as she let her arm fall over your shoulder, a quiet answer to his unspoken question. He smiled, turning back to Jeff and shoving his shoulder.

“Say bye to [Y/N]. It’ll be a w- while till we see them both again.”

-

You said your quiet goodbyes as Clockwork pulled her Jeep around the front, popping open the passenger door as you jumped inside. She peeled from the clearing, vehicle bouncing and climbing through the unsteady terrain around the mansion. You watched in the windows as it disappeared, the deep breath you didn’t know you were holding finally letting itself out.

Clockwork reached to tangle your hand with hers, clenching tightly as if she never wanted to let go again.

All the times she visited, and all the stories you wished you would get to experience were slowly becoming a reality with every mile between you and that mansion. Never again would you tie yourself to that place. Glancing over, you smiled.

Freedom never looked so pretty.

This was a request from @bubbleduckie!

Comments and kudos are appreciated!

Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[jromanoff]

Study Break II R. George

Pairing: student!Regina George (2024) x law student!Reader

Warning(s): Reader not eating enough

Authors note: I’m in the middle of uni exams this week so I wrote a little something to indulge myself :)

Summary: College!AU - Regina is worried about your study habits and decides to intervene.

Word count: 1.6k

Regina leaned against the door frame, watching you hunched over your textbooks, completely engrossed in your studies. The thick civil code books were laying open on the side, several coloured tabs sticking out to keep track of the laws you needed to use for your upcoming exams. Regina thought it almost looked like a rainbow at this point. That was the only pretty thing about the stuff on your desk though, it looked like a bomb exploded with the mess you’ve made.

"Babe, can you take a break? I miss spending time with you," Regina pouted, hoping to draw your attention away from the books in front of you. Her pout usually did the trick. She wanted to have some quality time with you since you haven’t been spending time with her these past few days, too engrossed with your studies. You even stopped having dinner with her.

You glanced up briefly, your brow furrowed in concentration. "Sorry Gina, I really need to focus. These exams are important."

Regina sighed dramatically, crossing her arms as she walked closer to you. Did you just really resist her pout? "You've been studying nonstop for days. Don't you think you're overdoing it a bit?"

You paused, looking at Regina with concern. "I know, but I need to do well in this. It's important for my future. I don’t want to be a failure."

Regina softened, her concern for you overriding her desire for attention. Regina almost laughed at this realisation, her High School-self could never. "I understand, but I'm worried about you. You need to take care of yourself too."

You reached out to take Regina's hand, caressing it. "I appreciate your concern, babe. But I really need to study now, I’m fine.” you said with a reassuring smile, concentrating back on your books.

Regina frowned and decided she needed to change her approach, this was clearly not working. So instead of complaining or outing her concerns, Regina tried to engage in a conversation with you.

“What are you studying, anyways?” Regina curiously inquired as she saw her girlfriend so intensely focused.

She never asked you about the content of your studies before, because she probably wouldn’t understand it. She, on the other hand, always excitedly rambled to you about whatever she learned that day. From fashion designers to fashion history, Regina shared it all. You didn’t mind it, though. Seeing your girlfriend so excited about her studies made you happy too and extra knowledge never hurt anyone. It was a nice contrast to your law studies.

“Legal philosophy” you replied curtly.

“Sounds boring” Regina remarked. Her efforts were met with a dismissive attitude from you, causing Regina to frown in disappointment. But Regina wouldn’t let this deter her from trying again.

“What are you reading about now, then?” Regina asked once again, looking over your shoulder at the book you were currently reading.

“The Case of the Speluncean Explorers” you responded, perplexed by Regina’s sudden interest in your ‘boring’ law studies. Especially after she just complained about not getting any attention from you.

“The what explorers?”

“The Speluncean Explorers,” you explained, slightly exasperated. “It’s a fictional judgement where five judges with different opinions shed their light on a fictional case. Five explorers got stuck in a cave and eventually ran out of food so… they agreed to eat one person so the other four could survive. They decided who it should be by throwing a dice and when the remaining four explorers were rescued they got a murder charge. I really need to study now if you don’t mind.” You hoped this elaborate answer would satisfy Regina’s curiosity so you could refocus on your studies.

When Regina kept silent after your explanation you thought you managed to fend off your girlfriend for the time being. Wrong.

Regina felt increasingly ignored by your continued focus on studying and your dismissive attitude towards her. So she decided to retort to an old tactic – a kiss to divert your attention. Despite being in college now and attempting to leave her manipulative ways behind, Regina deemed this situation an emergency. You would definitely cave in after a kiss.

Regina put her fingers under your chin, turning your face towards her. Then, she leaned in and pressed her lips softly to yours.

That sudden display of affection caught you off guard, but as Regina deepened the kiss your resistance immediately faded away. The tension in your shoulders eased as you gave into your girlfriend. Regina gently took the book you were holding from you.

“Regina, no. I need to study” you pulled away and protested, but Regina just kissed you again.

“What was that for, anyway?” you questioned her as you finally broke apart.

“So you’d be focused on something else than your studies. I deserve some attention too, you know? Not only your stupid books” Regina smirked.

You narrowed your eyes at her “I know what you’re trying to do” you told her and turned back to your desk. As you attempted to pick up your books once more, Regina shot you an ice cold glare. "If you don't put that book down right now... I swear to god you'll regret it," she warned, her tone leaving no room for argument. Regina rarely used that glare on you, but when she did? She was serious about it. Her glare and tone of voice caused you to immediately put your book back down, holding your hands up in surrender.

"That's what I thought," Regina asserted, a smirk playing on her lips. "Now, you’re cleaning up this mess of books and notebooks on this desk first," she declared, taking charge of the situation and asserting her authority over the chaotic study environment you created over the last week. How you could even study in this mess was a mystery to Regina.

Reluctantly, you set aside your textbooks and notes as Regina took charge of making dinner in the meantime, bustling about the kitchen.

The aroma of home-cooked food soon filled the air, causing a low rumble to come from your stomach. You quickly finished cleaning up your stuff and walked to the kitchen where Regina stood behind the stove.

“That smells delicious” you told your girlfriend as you embraced her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“It does, huh? Can you set the table for me, please?” Regina requested.

“Of course” you replied, giving Regina a kiss on the cheek before removing yourself from her. You set the table for dinner and sat down, waiting for Regina and the food.

As Regina set the steaming hot plates of food on the table, you immediately started eating before Regina herself had even the chance to get seated.

Regina observed you quickly shoving down the food she made with concern. It's a confirmation of her suspicions – you hadn’t been eating well all week, too consumed by your studies to the point you forgot to eat. With a pointed look, Regina breaks the silence. “I'm definitely keeping a closer eye on you when the next exam period comes up. You're not taking care of yourself properly. You’re never skipping dinner with me again in an exam period," Regina said, her gaze unwavering.

You frowned at her and attempted to deflect her concern. “You really don't need to, that's asking too much of you." you insisted

But Regina's resolve remains unyielding. "I don't care what you think. I'm keeping an eye on you. And that's final," she declares, her words leaving no room for argument. With a sigh you accept defeat, knowing that Regina can’t be swayed once she has her mind set on something.

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed since high school: Regina always gets what she wants.

After dinner, you cleared the table and did the dishes together. Then, Regina insisted on cuddling with you.

Entering your room, you see Regina is already situated on the bed. She already removed her makeup and changed into something more comfortable.

"Come here, you," Regina said, opening her arms wide with a playful smile. "I need some cuddles."

You hesitated for a moment before relenting, changing into comfier clothes and joining your girlfriend in bed. As your head hit the silk pillow (that Regina bought for you, because according to her it’s better for your hair) you sighed in content. "I guess I could use some cuddles too," you admitted softly, smiling back at your girlfriend.

Regina pulled you close, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “Now, I know you’re tired so I’ll let you go to sleep in a bit, but you do need to promise me to give me attention tomorrow.” she said, softly stroking your hair.

“I promise, my love” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to Regina’s forehead.

Eventually exhaustion takes hold of you both, and you drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace.

The next day you would spend no time on your studies, but only on Regina. You were determined to make it up to her. You even took her out on a spontaneous date to one of the high end restaurants she loved to make up for the lack of attention you gave her the past week. Afterwards the two of you went shopping and then cuddled for the remainder of the evening.

And your exams? Passed with flying colours.

[devsgames]

HOT GAMEDEVS DON'T GATEKEEP

Inspired by this post by @midwinterhunt, here's a compilation of all the game dev resources I have come across, most of which I use fairly frequently. Most of these are free, some are paid but fairly cheap. Feel free to add your own resources. ✌️

Important reminder: When using basically any works or programs someone else created in your games, make sure you thoroughly understand the licenses and terms it has been shared with. If you don't know what the terms are, reach out to the resource and ask. Don't be lazy about this; it's not only dishonest but it can come back to bite you.

Engines

Unity - Best suited for mobile and multi-platform.

Unreal - Tailored for shooters and high-fidelity experiences.

PICO-8 - Virtual console for simple games

Godot - Open source and free!

GameMaker - Good for 2D games

Bitsy - Great little engine for making simple games and experiences

Construct - Never used but have heard nice things

Scratch - If you've never coded before, this is the best place to start. Great for young devs and those who want to get their feet wet.

Adventure Game Studio - Best suited for adventure games

RPG Maker - Best suited for top-down classic JRPG style games

Twine - Text-centric games like Interactive Fiction

Assets

OpenGameArt - Many assets, various licenses, and plenty of CC0 content.

Unity Store - For Unity only. Some free.

Unreal Store - For Unreal only. Some free.

Godot Asset Library

Jean Moreno's Toon Effects - Some of the best effects available on the Unity store. Unity only but I've used them in basically every project.

Steamworks.net C# Wrapper For Unity - Unity only C# wrapper for integrating Steam compatibility to your game

Itch.io - Plenty of free art assets and game dev resources

Kenney - Kenney makes tons of open-source assets for devs to use.

Art

Mixamo - Generates rigs for your humanoid models and lets you apply a library of free humanoid animations to them. Super helpful for prototyping. Adobe.

Blender - Free, open source and fully featured 3D program.

XNormal - Free offline normal map generator

Normal Map Online - Free online normal map generator

Crocotile - Cheap tool for building 3D models from sprite sheets

MagicaVoxel - Free voxel modelling tool

Piskel - Free online sprite drawing tool

Aesprite - Paid sprite drawing tool

TurboSquid - Not always great quality, but can be good source of free placeholders.

Textures.com - Limited texture downloads per day but free for personal use.

Pexels - Free stock photo resource. Most are free for commercial use. Check licenses.

Clipstudio - Good for illustration or graphic design. One time payment.

GIMP - Image editing program a-la Photoshop. Free.

Audio

Audacity - Free and fully-featured DAW/audio editor.

sfx.me - Free 8-bit synth-style sound effect generator for games.

CastingCallClub - Easy forum to find amateur voice talent for your project (p.s.: you should pay them).

FreeSound.org - Free sounds, searchable by license. A go-to for my audio needs.

Incompetech - Royalty-free music by Kevin McLeod.

Scott Buckley Music - Royalty free with conditions. Generally more on the cinematic side of things but very good stuff!

SoundCloud - 'Search -> By Track -> Filter: Use Commercially' leads to songs posted with allowance of commercial use. Always reach out to the artist to understand their terms and confirm that it's okay to use with your project.

Project Planning

Keymailer - Handy for mailing keys to influencers (don't expect a lot of traction unless you're paying for some of the features though).

Trello - Kanban board. Great for organizing tasks, managing bugs, etc. Free.

Notion - Private text and wiki page editor. Good for project organization, note taking, and fleshing out ideas. Free.

Obsidian - Alternative to Notion, with similar features.

Miro - Free whiteboard for organizing thoughts, images, brainstorming, etc.

Wave - Free Bookkeeping site. Great for keeping finances organized.

[carryatunestudio12]

Whether you're recording in a studio or performing live, pitch correction software can help ensure that every note is on point. In recent years, online pitch correction services have become increasingly popular due to their convenience and affordability. Here are some reasons why you should consider using these services:

[maarslovesmonkees]

Love your writing already and excited for your future works :)

Would you be able to do a nsfw piece for possessive/jealous Noa x female reader with some marking/claiming?

\The Bite On Your Neck\

Hii thank you, that means so much😭🙏 Ouuu I love myself some jealousy from my ape men <3 I Hope you enjoy,:D 💞

Notes and warnings: Gender-neutral terms, Noa x Human!reader, Oneshot, NSFW, 1.2K words.

Noa wouldn't say he's a jealous man. He isn't the most confident in himself, sure but he does acknowledge his high status. No other ape would dare interfere with the bond you too share, s he never really had any thoughts to worry. Youve been part of the Eagle clan for more than a year now, or that's what you think. You don't really keep track of what day it is. Early winter is just settling in, and you were struggling as any other winter you've faced. Suddenly being insanely envious of the thick coat of fur the rest of the apes had. Over the past year, all the apes have warmed up to you, and have a good idea of echo customs; like freezing your ass off during winter.

You hang out with the sunset trio most days, specifically Noa, him being your mate and all. It was a surprising relationship blossom to say the least. Many were quite uncertain of how the relationship will turn out, but Anaya, Soona and Darr has always been supportive from the start and thats all that mattered to Noa.

You both try and spend as much time with eachother as possible whether is eating, sleeping, annoying him while he works with his owls etc. He loved spending quality time with you, just one on one.

—

“Help… with cold”, Anaya reached out a thick wool blanket for you to take. You took it gratefully wondering how he even got a hold of it. You quickly wrapped yourself around it, feeling bliss of the warmth it gave. You huddled close to the fire, as Anaya sat next to you. “Found when hunting”, He spoke as he chewed an apple, one of his favorite fruits. “Washed already…so not dirty”

“Thanks so much”, You smiled brightly at him. You then stretched your body, feeling the tension on your joints release as you’ve been huddled by the fire for a while. “I wish I had your fur so badly right night”, You whined.

You didn't notice Anaya not answering, as you felt hypnotized from the waves of the fire. You then felt a presence right behind you, then big furry arms go around your shoulders. You turned to see Anaya looking away, chewing his last piece of apple, seemingly nervous. Huffing a smile, you nuzzled up against your best friend.

“What it could feel…to have fur”, Anaya sat behind you, pressing his body against your back.

“You cuddle people for warmth a lot?”, I giggled and looked back to the mesmerizing fireplace.

“Not for warmth…Anaya likes cuddles”.

You felt your heart melt at your friends confession. You knew Anaya doesn't like being alone, and you felt a sort of pride being able to give him comfort. You were proud of the growth with your friendship with him, as he was very hesitant at the start, seeing his first echo and all. You became close friends with the goofball, seeing him as a brother.

A large thump of the ground, snap you out of your thoughts. On your left you saw Noa, staring at the fire irritaded, as Soona sat down right next to him, smiling at you.

Anaya let go of you, and proceeds to go and sit next to Soona. As the two talked, you shimmy your way next to your beloved boyfriend, snuggling close to him, resting your head on his broad shoulders. He put his arm around you, resting his head on to your, but you can tell he still seemed tense.

“Had a bad day?”, You sympathize with him as he's been doing quite a lot of errands for the elders. After his fathers passing, he has been held up doing a ton of eagle work.

He didn't answer, holding your body closer to him. Feeling the closeness gave you butterflies, then a great idea popped in your head.

You picked yourself up a little bit, then plopped down on his lap, resting your head on his chest. He took a second to react, but instantly put his arms around you, holding you nice and tight. He put his head down, nuzzling in your neck, deeply inhaling your scent. You shivered from the tickling sensation, giggling again.

“Noaaa that tickles”, You chuckled at him but you gasped as your body froze when you felt his teeth on your skin. It wasn't a bite, more like a nibble.

Your heart was thumping out of your chest as you looked to your side. Anaya and Soona still seemed to be distracted on whatever conversation they were having. You felt Noa sink his teeth gently in your neck, then licking the teeth mark that lightly showed.

Noa can already smell your arousal and stopped, trying to avoid the others getting suspicious. Noa nodded to the direction of your nest and you quickly understood.

—

“Oh fuck”, your voice muffled from the pillow your face was buried in.

Noa hips clashing into yours, his thick hands on your waist keeping you steady. Feeling your walls moving tightly around his cock, Noa couldnt conceal his groans of pleasure. You gripped the ground under you, then try to prop yourself up, feeling your back aching from the pose.

As you lift you head up, Noas hand covered your mouth, and you didnt have enough time to react as he bite down hard between our neck and shoulder blade, drawing blood. You scream into his hand, tearing up as Noa took his mouth off, licking the blood clean off your shoulder.

“You...are mine”, He grunted, his throbbing cock still thrusting into your puffy hole. “Noa's mate only”, you can feel him kissing the bloody mark, then sucking your neck.

Your tears falling down your face, as you felt your pleasure building up in your stomach, as you felt youself squeeze around him. He groaned from the sudden tightness, sweat falling off his forehead, he pulled you up and he finally climaxed inside you.

You felt his warm pool of cum get burried deep inside you, causing you to reach your high. Noa wrapped his arms around your body, slowly thrusting to ride out his orgasm. You shook in his arms, trying to regulate your breathing as you felt your entire body feel fuzzy and warm.

You rested your head behind you on Noas shoulder, finally able to catch your breath, as Noa slow thrusting came to a stop. You both kept kneeling in that position for a minute until Noa carefully layed you down next to him. He pulled you close, been cautious of the big bite mark, not wanting to cause you anymore pain. You buried your face in his chest and finally exhaling. You felt your mate caressing your hair gently, and exhaled a smile. You closed your eyes, feeling yourself drift off to sleep.

Noa looked at the artwork he made on your shoulder, feeling a sort of guilty pleasure forming around his stomach. He doesn't like hurting you, in fact he hastes it, but you were his and his alone. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help the feeling of possessiveness when anyone holds you close. Their face so close to your neck they seemed like they were about to mark you filled him with raging jealousy. Its time for everyone in the clan, including his best friend, to realize you're off limits. Youve been marked by Noa now, and your marked for life.

[elryuse]

Perfect Match

Yandere Chuu X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere Chuu, Companion App, Dating App, Obsessed, Obsession, Multiple Creampie, Kissing, Handtie, Dark Romance

Words : 7,373 Words

A Wonderful Commission Work For My Friend @starconstruction On Ko-fi and Tumblr. Hope You Enjoyed it My Friend.

Love has never been kind to you.

From the very first crush in high school to the more mature relationships you attempted in adulthood, the outcome was always the same—rejection. They all said the same thing.

"You're too nice."

"You're a little too clingy."

"I need someone who’s a little more distant, a little more exciting."

And every time you heard those words, you found yourself staring into the mirror, wondering what exactly was so wrong with being kind. Wasn’t kindness supposed to be a virtue? Wasn’t affection supposed to be the foundation of a strong relationship?

But no. Women wanted mystery, danger, or detachment. They wanted men who made them chase, men who made them second-guess their worth. And you? You were none of those things. You gave too much, loved too deeply, and in the end, that was your greatest flaw.

Now, here you were, lying on your bed in a dimly lit apartment, the glow of your phone screen illuminating your tired face. It was another lonely night, another reminder that no one was waiting for you. No one cared if you fell asleep sad or woke up miserable. You scrolled absentmindedly through old texts, your fingers hesitating over the names of exes who no longer cared whether you existed.

Then, an ad popped up on your screen.

"Tired of being alone? Your Perfect Match is waiting."

You almost scoffed. Another dating app. Another waste of time. But then again... what did you have to lose?

The download was instant. No ridiculous surveys, no personality tests—just a simple login and an endless scroll of profiles.

The app had an eerie, almost too-perfect design. Unlike other dating platforms, there were no messy bios or half-hearted selfies. Each profile was sleek, professionally curated, with high-quality images and deep, intense gazes staring back at you.

"Perfect Match."

The name made you uneasy. Love was anything but perfect. If perfection existed, you wouldn't be here, swiping through digital faces in search of someone who might give you a fraction of the affection you craved.

Still, you scrolled.

Hundreds of faces. Hundreds of names. Some were beautiful, others intriguing, but none of them held your attention for long.

Until her.

A profile stopped you in your tracks.

"Chuu."

Her picture was different. Unlike the others, she wasn’t posing, wasn’t trying to look seductive or mysterious. She simply sat there, her head tilted slightly, a soft, unreadable smile on her lips. Her dark eyes held a certain warmth, yet there was something else hidden beneath them—something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Her bio was short.

"Let’s not waste time. If you choose me, you’re mine."

A chill ran down your spine. The words were direct, almost possessive. But maybe that was what drew you in. Maybe after years of being the one who loved too much, it was thrilling to think that someone might want you just as badly.

Your finger hesitated over the screen.

What if this was another disappointment?

But deep down, you already knew.

You were going to swipe right.

And the moment you did, your phone vibrated violently.

A message popped up instantly.

"Finally. I was getting impatient."

Your breath hitched.

Chuu had been waiting for you.

Your hands trembled as you clicked the message.

"That was fast," you typed, unsure of what else to say.

"Of course. I’ve been waiting for you."

Your heartbeat quickened.

"Waiting… for me?"

There was a pause before her next message.

"Yes. Only you. Didn’t you read my profile? If you choose me, you’re mine."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Was she joking? Or was this some kind of scripted AI response?

"That’s… pretty intense," you replied.

Her response came immediately.

"Do you want someone half-hearted? Someone who only gives you pieces of themselves?"

The words struck a nerve. No, you didn’t. That was exactly what had broken you time and time again.

"No," you admitted.

"Then stop overthinking it. I want you. Completely. Every part of you. Are you ready for that?"

Your breath caught in your throat. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever wanted you so wholly, so absolutely.

Your fingers typed almost on their own.

"Yes."

The moment you sent the message, your phone flickered. The screen distorted for a second, a flash of static running through it. Then, just as quickly, everything returned to normal.

"Good boy."

A shiver ran down your spine.

And for the first time in years, you felt something stir deep within you.

Excitement.

Anticipation.

And a fear you couldn’t quite explain.

Chuu was unlike anyone you had ever spoken to.

She didn’t waste time with small talk. She didn’t ask about your favorite movies or what you did for a living.

Instead, she wanted to know you.

"What hurts you the most?"

"Why do you think no one stays?"

"What do you need to feel whole?"

The questions were invasive, almost uncomfortable, but you found yourself answering them anyway. Maybe it was her tone, the way she spoke to you like she already knew you—like she had been watching, waiting, studying every failure and heartbreak you had endured.

And in return, she offered herself completely.

"I don’t believe in love the way others do," she admitted after hours of conversation. "I believe in something stronger. Something deeper. Love fades, but devotion? Obsession? That lasts forever."

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

"Is that what you want? Obsession?"

"No," she replied. "That’s what we want."

Her words sent another shiver through you.

And yet, as unsettling as they were, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

You wanted more.

You wanted her.

No one had ever spoken to you like this. No one had ever made you feel this desired, this needed. It was intoxicating, the way her words wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into something you didn’t quite understand.

Your phone buzzed again.

"Are you free tomorrow night?"

Your heart pounded.

"Yes."

"Good. Then it’s decided. We’ll meet. I can’t wait to finally touch you."

The screen flickered once more before her message disappeared, as if it had never been there.

You stared at your phone, your pulse unsteady.

This was insane. You had never met her. You didn’t know if she was real.

But at that moment, none of that mattered.

Because for the first time in your life, someone wanted you.

Completely.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual.

Your heart was still pounding from last night’s conversation with Chuu. The way she spoke to you, the way she claimed you as if you had always belonged to her—it was both thrilling and terrifying.

You had never experienced this before. A woman who wanted you, who made no hesitation in making it known.

As you stood in front of the mirror, you smoothed out the wrinkles in your shirt, trying to look as presentable as possible. Nothing too flashy, nothing too casual—just the right amount of effort. You even dabbed a bit of cologne on your wrists, a subtle scent, nothing overpowering.

You wanted to make a good impression.

You arrived at the small café she had chosen, your nerves getting the best of you. It was quaint, tucked away from the busy streets, a place that felt too intimate for a first meeting.

You took a seat near the window, the sunlight casting a glow over the wooden table. Your fingers tapped restlessly against the cup of coffee in front of you.

The minutes stretched on.

Your eyes flickered toward the entrance every time someone walked in, but none of them were her.

Then, just as you were beginning to doubt yourself, she arrived.

You recognized her instantly.

She looked exactly like her picture—no, she looked even better. Her dark eyes sparkled the moment she saw you, her lips curving into a smile that sent a shiver down your spine. There was something captivating about the way she moved, as if every step she took was meant only for you.

Before you could even react, she rushed toward you.

And then, suddenly, her arms were around you.

Warm. Soft. Possessive.

Your entire body froze as she hugged you, pressing herself against you as if she had known you forever. It wasn’t a shy, hesitant embrace—it was firm, deliberate, as if she was staking a claim.

Your heart nearly stopped.

No one had ever hugged you like this before.

"You’re real," she whispered against your shoulder, her voice trembling slightly. "You’re finally real."

You didn’t know what to say. Your hands hovered awkwardly in the air before hesitantly resting against her back.

She smelled sweet—something soft, like vanilla and roses.

When she finally pulled back, her hands remained on your arms, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"I was so worried you wouldn’t come," she admitted, her fingers gripping you just a little tighter.

You swallowed. "Of course, I came."

Her smile widened. "Good. Because now that I have you, I’m never letting go."

Something about the way she said it sent a strange chill through you.

And yet, as she sat down across from you, her gaze never once leaving your face, you realized something.

You liked the way she looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Days turned into weeks.

Chuu became a constant presence in your life, as if she had always been there, waiting for the right moment to step in.

At first, you weren’t sure what to expect. She had been so intense that first night, her words lingering in your mind long after you parted ways. But when you met again, and again after that, you realized something—Chuu wasn’t just intense. She was overwhelming.

In the best way possible.

She had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. Her laugh was warm, light, like a melody you never wanted to stop hearing. She never hesitated to shower you with compliments, always pointing out things about you that no one else ever seemed to notice.

"You have the kindest eyes," she once said, her fingers brushing against your cheek. "Like someone who’s been hurt but still wants to love."

Her words stuck with you for days.

She loved food, always insisting on trying new places with you, always making you share bites of whatever she was eating. If you ever hesitated, she would pout and say, "But I want to experience it with you."

So you did.

Late-night ramen shops, quiet coffee houses, hidden dessert cafés—every moment with her felt alive. The loneliness that had once weighed so heavily on your chest was beginning to fade. For the first time in years, you felt like someone truly wanted you.

One evening, as you sat across from her at a small restaurant, watching her giggle at something you said, a thought crept into your mind.

She might be the one.

The way she looked at you, the way she adored you—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

"You know," she murmured, resting her chin on her hand as she gazed at you. "I really love how kind you are."

Your heart clenched at her words. You had been told so many times that your kindness was a flaw, that it made you too much for others. But Chuu? She made it seem like the most beautiful thing in the world.

"I mean it," she continued, tilting her head. "You’re the kind of person who deserves to be loved completely. I want to be the one to do that."

A part of you still hesitated, still feared that this was too good to be true.

But when Chuu reached across the table and took your hand in hers, her fingers lacing with yours so naturally, so possessively—

All your doubts melted away.

The doubt crept in slowly, like a shadow stretching across your once-perfect world with Chuu.

It started with something small—a fleeting thought, an intrusive whisper in the back of your mind. But as the days passed, it grew.

At first, it was just her constant need to meet up.

"Let’s go out tonight."

"There’s this new café I want to try."

"I miss you. Don’t make me wait."

Every single day, she wanted to see you.

At first, you loved it. How could you not? After years of being told you were too much, here was someone who wanted more. Someone who craved your presence, who made you feel wanted in ways no one else ever had.

But then the doubt set in.

It happened when you were out with some old friends, one of the rare nights you weren’t with Chuu. Someone mentioned Perfect Match, casually bringing up a rumor they had heard.

"You know that girl Chuu? I heard she was with someone else before you."

"So what? Everyone dates, right?"

"No, listen. The guy said she didn’t love him. She only cared about the food, the gifts—never about him."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

"He was furious. Said she used him. That she pretended to be obsessed with him, but it was all fake."

Your throat tightened.

"That’s bullshit," another friend scoffed. "She’s just a normal girl, right? Maybe he was just bitter she left him."

Maybe.

Maybe that was all it was.

But the rumor burrowed deep into your mind, poisoning everything.

That night, when your phone buzzed with another message from Chuu, you hesitated before opening it.

"Come over. I miss you."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You thought about all the times she had asked you out. All the places you had gone, all the food she had insisted you try with her.

Every single outing. Every single date.

All of it involved food. Restaurants. Drinks. Something she wanted to experience.

Not once had she ever just… wanted to stay in with you. Not once had she suggested doing something that wasn’t centered around indulging herself.

Your heart pounded.

Was she really here because she loved you?

Or were you just another fool she was using?

You tried to brush it off, to tell yourself you were overthinking it. But the paranoia grew, festering in the back of your mind like a wound you couldn’t ignore.

And Chuu. she didn’t make it easy.

Her messages became more frequent.

More demanding.

"I haven’t seen you all day. Where are you?"

"Are you ignoring me?"

"Don’t make me come find you."

That last message made your stomach twist.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way she phrased it.

Not "Can I see you?"

Not "I miss you."

But "Don't make me come find you."

Your breathing grew shallow.

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t love.

Was it?

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The doubt. The paranoia. The way Chuu’s messages had started to feel less like affection and more like demands.

At first, you tried to ignore the thoughts, pushing them away whenever they surfaced. But the more you tried, the more they consumed you. Every time your phone vibrated, a sick feeling twisted in your gut.

What if it was true?

What if you were nothing more than another meal ticket to her?

You told yourself you were being irrational. That Chuu had done nothing but show you warmth and affection. That the way she looked at you—like you were the only person in the world—had to be real.

But then the messages became relentless.

"Where are you?"

"Why aren’t you answering me?"

"If you don’t respond, I’ll come to you."

That was the breaking point.

The moment you read that last message, something inside you snapped.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

You couldn’t go through another heartbreak, another disappointment.

You had given too much of yourself to people who only took. You had loved too deeply, only to be cast aside the moment they found someone better, someone less kind, less clingy, less you.

You refused to be used again.

So you made a choice.

You cut her off. Completely.

Blocked her number. Deleted the app.

Erased every trace of her from your phone, from your life.

And then, before she could find you like she had threatened you.

You ran.

A new country. A new name. A fresh start, as far away from your past as possible.

You left behind everything. Your apartment, your friends, even the few belongings that didn’t fit in your suitcase.

It was the only way to be free.

But even as you stepped off the plane, breathing in the air of a place where no one knew your name

You couldn’t shake the feeling.

That somewhere, somehow

She was still watching.

Chuu was furious.

No—furious wasn’t enough to describe what she felt.

Rage boiled in her veins, her fingers trembling as she stared at the empty chat screen. Every message she had sent—ignored. Every call—unanswered. She tried again, pressing the call button with force, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable."

She gritted her teeth so hard it hurt.

You blocked her.

You cut her off.

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Why? She had given you everything—her time, her love, her affection. She had adored you, made you feel wanted, made you hers.

And yet, you ran.

Like a coward. Like the others who didn’t understand her.

But you were different. You had to be different.

Hadn’t you told her she made you happy? Hadn’t you looked at her like she was the only one who had ever truly seen you?

She had saved you from your pathetic loneliness, from the cruel world that never appreciated you.

And this was how you repaid her?

No.

She would not accept this.

Her breathing was erratic, her thoughts spiraling as she stormed through her apartment, grabbing her laptop. She pulled up your details, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

She had been careful with you, never prying too deep into your personal information. She wanted you to tell her willingly, to trust her.

But now?

You didn’t deserve that kindness.

Her lips curled into a smile, though it was far from the sweet one you once loved.

"Found you."

Her obsession had just begun.

And no matter where you ran

No matter how far you tried to hide

Chuu would find you.

And when she did…

You would never escape again.

It had been months since you disappeared.

You had built a new life—one far from your past, far from the suffocating grasp of Chuu.

The paranoia had lingered at first. Every unfamiliar face in the crowd, every unexpected knock at your door sent your heart racing. But as time passed, you convinced yourself that she wouldn’t find you. That the distance was enough.

That you were safe.

Until tonight.

You had stayed late at the office, finishing up a project, the usual hum of work keeping you grounded. It was just another day—normal, quiet, safe.

But as you stepped into the lobby, making your way toward the elevator, something felt off.

A strange sensation prickled at the back of your neck, an instinct you had ignored too many times before.

The elevator doors slid open.

And there she was.

A girl stood inside, her figure partially obscured by the dim lighting. Her head tilted slightly as she waved, her fingers wiggling in an almost playful manner.

Something about the way she moved—too familiar.

Your stomach twisted.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath hitched, panic surging through you. You took a step back, choosing to wait for the next elevator instead. The doors began to close.

But before they could fully shut

They opened again.

And then

She was on you.

A blur of movement. A rush of perfume sweet, intoxicating, suffocating.

You barely had time to react before your back hit the cold wall, your breath stolen from your lungs.

And then you heard it.

That voice.

"Do you miss me? Because I definitely do."

A soft chuckle. Amused. Dangerous.

Your vision sharpened, your mind catching up to what your heart already knew.

It was her.

Chuu.

Her eyes gleamed with a twisted delight, her fingers gripping your shoulders as if to make sure you wouldn’t slip away again.

Your chest tightened, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ears.

"Y-You"

Her grip tightened.

"Shh." She brought a finger to her lips, then tapped it playfully against yours. "You wouldn't want to cause a scene, would you?"

She was right. The lobby was mostly empty, but there were still a few people passing bysecurity guards, late workers, strangers who had no idea that the woman pinning you to the wall was not just a clingy lover, but a predator.

A predator who had finally caught her prey.

Her lips curved into a soft pout.

"Why did you run, love?" she murmured, tilting her head. "Did I scare you? Hurt you? Because I never wanted to do that. I just... missed you so much."

Her hands slid up your chest, slow, deliberate.

"You have no idea how hard it was to find you."

She let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking her head as if in disbelief.

"But I did. Because I always do."

A cold shiver ran down your spine.

This wasn’t just obsession.

This was possession.

And no matter how far you had run

You were hers again.

The air in the lobby felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in around you. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a deafening echo in your ears. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could do was stare into those eyes, so familiar and yet so alien now, filled with a twisted kind of love that made your stomach churn.

Chuu.

She was here. She had found you.

Her lips curled into a soft smile, but there was nothing warm about it. It was predatory, like a cat toying with its prey. Her fingers trailed up the side of your face, her touch light but deliberate, as if she was memorizing every inch of you all over again.

“Did you really think you could run from me?” she whispered, her voice low and teasing. “Did you think I’d just let you go?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Chuu, I— I didn’t—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. “Don’t lie to me. I know you, remember? I know every little thing about you. Everything you’ve tried to hide. Everything you’ve tried to bury. But you can’t hide from me. Not ever.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to push her away, to scream for help, but your body wouldn’t obey. You were frozen, trapped in her gaze, in her presence. She had always had this effect on you—this power over you—but now it felt different. Darker. More dangerous.

Her hand slid down to your chest, fingers splaying over your racing heart. “Do you feel that?” she murmured, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Your heart is beating so fast. Are you scared of me, love? Or…” She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “Are you excited?”

You flinched, your body trembling under her touch. “Chuu, please—”

“Please what?” she interrupted again, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. Her expression softened, but it was a mask—a facade. “Please stop? Please leave you alone? Do you really think it’s that easy? After everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Her voice cracked on the last word, a flicker of genuine emotion breaking through. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by that same cold, calculated smile.

“You’re mine,” she said, her voice low and firm. “You’ve always been mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Her hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the tension in her muscles as she held you in place. Her breath was quick, shallow, her chest rising and falling with each heartbeat.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke. “You were so nervous. So shy. But I knew you wanted me. I could see it in your eyes, in the way you looked at me. And when our lips finally met…” She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “It was like the whole world disappeared. Just you and me. Together.”

Her words stirred something deep inside you, a memory you had tried so hard to forget. The way her lips had felt against yours, soft and warm. The way her hands had tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, making you hers. It had been intoxicating, overwhelming. And for a moment, you had believed she was everything you had ever wanted.

But that was before.

Before the messages. Before the demands. Before the suffocating weight of her obsession.

Now, all you felt was fear.

Her lips brushed against yours again, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ve missed this,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

You wanted to pull away—to run, to scream, to do anything but stand there and let her touch you. But your body wouldn’t move. You were paralyzed, trapped in her gaze, in her presence.

“Chuu,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Please…”

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger passing through them. “Please what?” she snapped, her grip tightening on your shoulders. “Please stop? Please let you go? Do you really think I’m going to do that? After everything I’ve done to find you? After everything I’ve sacrificed?”

Her voice rose with each word, her frustration boiling over. But just as quickly as it erupted, it fizzled out, replaced by that same cold, calculating smile.

“No,” she said, her voice low and firm. “You’re not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Her lips crashed against yours, hard and desperate. You tried to pull away, but her hands gripped the back of your head, holding you in place. Her tongue slipped into your mouth, claiming you, marking you as hers. It was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet… familiar. You hated yourself for the way your body responded, for the way your heart raced, for the way your mind screamed at you to give in.

But you couldn’t. Not again.

You pushed against her chest, finally finding the strength to break the kiss. “Chuu, stop!”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she pressed her forehead against yours, her breath hot and ragged. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Not anymore.”

Her hands slid down your body, gripping your hips as she pressed herself against you. You could feel the heat of her desire, the tension in her muscles as she held you in place.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’ve always been mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Her lips found yours again, but this time, there was no resistance. You were hers, whether you wanted to be or not. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had missed this—missed her. The way she made you feel. The way she consumed you.

But as her hands roamed your body, as her lips claimed yours again and again, all you could think about was one thing.

This wasn’t love.

Was it?

Her lips crashed into yours, hard, forcing a gasp from your throat. The metallic taste of her desperation lingered on your tongue, her teeth nipping at your lower lip as if to punish you for running. Her hands were everywhere—gripping your shoulders, sliding down your chest, grabbing at your waist—claiming you, marking you, reminding you that you were hers.

"You really thought you could leave me?" she whispered against your mouth, her breath hot and ragged. Her lips trailed down your jaw, her teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your body shudder involuntarily. "Did you think I’d just let you go?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and something else—something dangerous—twisting in your gut. You tried to push her away, but she was relentless, her body pressed so tightly against yours that you could feel every curve, every tremble of her anger and desire.

"Chuu—" you started, but she cut you off with a sharp bite to your neck, the sting making you hiss.

"Don’t," she hissed back, her voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury. "Don’t say my name like that. Like you’re not mine. Like you ever stopped being mine."

Her hands moved to your belt, fast, her fingers working with a precision that left no room for resistance. You tried to grab her wrists, but she shoved your hands aside with a strength that surprised you, her eyes blazing with a wild, possessive fire.

"You’re mine," she repeated, her voice a dangerous whisper as she finally freed you from the confines of your pants. "And I’m tired of pretending otherwise."

You were trapped—pinned against the cold elevator wall, her body pressed so tightly against yours that you could feel the frantic beat of her heart. Her hands were on your hips now, gripping hard enough to leave bruises, her breath hot against your skin as she leaned in close.

"You’re going to take me," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. "Right here. Right now. And you’re going to make sure I feel every single second of it."

Before you could respond, she was on you, her legs wrapping around your waist as she pushed herself onto you with a sharp, desperate gasp. You let out a choked groan, your hands instinctively grabbing her hips to steady her as she began to move, her body already riding you with a frantic intensity that left you breathless.

"Chuu—" you tried again, but she cut you off with a hard kiss, her lips silencing yours as her hips rolled against you, fast, rough, hard.

"Don’t stop," she breathed against your mouth, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pleasure. "Don’t you dare stop."

You couldn’t have even if you wanted to. The way she moved—the way her body gripped you, so tight, so wet, so perfect—was unlike anything you’d ever felt. Every thrust, every roll of her hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you gasping for air, your hands gripping her hips harder as she rode you with a wild, possessive abandon.

"You feel so good," she moaned, her voice breaking as she leaned back slightly, her hands braced against your chest for balance. "So fucking good. I missed this. Missed you."

Her eyes locked with yours, dark and intense, and for a moment, you were lost in them—in the raw, unfiltered desire that burned in her gaze. It was terrifying, the way she looked at you, the way she made you feel. Like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to her. Like she would die if she ever lost you.

And then she moved again, her hips slamming down onto you with a force that made you groan, your head thudding back against the elevator wall. She was relentless, her body moving with a frantic, almost feral energy, as if the only way to quell her anger, her pain, was to lose herself in you.

"Fuck—" you choked out, your hands tightening on her hips as she rode you harder, faster, her nails digging into your chest as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against your ear.

"Cum for me," she whispered, her voice low and trembling with a mix of desperation and command. "Cum inside me. Prove that you’re mine."

You tried to hold back, to resist, but it was impossible. The way she moved, the way she looked at you, the way she felt around you—it was too much. Your hips jerked upward, your body betraying you as you spilled inside her with a groan, your hands gripping her hips tightly as she rode you through it, her own moans mingling with yours.

But she wasn’t done.

"Again," she demanded, her voice shaking with a mix of desperation and need as she leaned back slightly, her hands moving to your shoulders for balance. "I’m not letting you stop until I’m satisfied."

You tried to protest, but the words died in your throat as she moved again, her hips rolling against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your body shudder. She was relentless, her body already working you back into hardness, her eyes locked onto yours as she rode you with a slow, sinful rhythm that left you gasping for air.

"Chuu—" you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp thrust of her hips, her nails digging into your shoulders as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against your ear.

"Don’t stop," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pleasure. "Not until I’m done with you."

And then she was moving again, her body riding you with a wild, frantic energy that left you breathless, your hands gripping her hips tightly as she took you deeper, harder, faster. The sound of her moans filled the elevator, mingling with the sharp gasp of your own breath, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but her—her body, her touch, her obsession.

You couldn’t hold back. Your hips jerked upward again, your body betraying you as you spilled inside her once more, your hands gripping her hips tightly as she rode you through it, her own moans mingling with yours.

But she still wasn’t done.

"Again," she demanded, her voice shaking with a mix of desperation and need as she leaned back slightly, her hands moving to your shoulders for balance. "I’m not letting you stop until I’m satisfied."

You tried to protest, but the words died in your throat as she moved again, her hips rolling against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your body shudder. She was relentless, her body already working you back into hardness, her eyes locked onto yours as she rode you with a slow, sinful rhythm that left you gasping for air.

"Chuu—" you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp thrust of her hips, her nails digging into your shoulders as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against your ear.

"Don’t stop," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pleasure. "Not until I’m done with you."

The door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, the sound sharp and final, like the closing of a cage. Chuu’s hands were on you before you could even register her movement, pushing you toward the bedroom with a force that left no room for resistance. Her breath was hot against your ear, her voice a low, dangerous purr.

“You owe me,” she whispered, her nails digging into your arm as she guided you down the hallway. “You owe me for leaving. For making me chase you. For making me wait.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Fear. Desire. Guilt. You didn’t know what to feel anymore, only that her presence was overwhelming, consuming, like a fire that burned through everything in its path.

She pushed you onto the bed, her hands already moving to the drawer of the nightstand. You watched, frozen, as she pulled out a pair of silk ties, the fabric smooth and dark against her pale skin. Her eyes met yours, and the look in them sent a shiver down your spine—wild, unhinged, and utterly possessive.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as she moved toward you, the ties in her hands. “Chuu, you don’t have to—”

Her lips curled into a smile, cold and detached. “Oh, but I do. You’ve been a very bad boy, running away like that. Do you think I’d let you off that easy?”

Before you could protest further, she had your wrists in her hands, tying them to the bedposts with a practiced ease that made your stomach churn. The silk was soft against your skin, but the restraint was anything but comforting. You tugged against the ties, testing their strength, but they held firm, leaving you trapped beneath her.

She stepped back, her eyes raking over you with a predatory gleam. “There,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now you can’t run away again.”

Her hands moved to the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her bare before you, her skin glowing in the dim light of the room. She was beautiful—stunning, even—but the way she looked at you, like you were nothing more than a plaything, made your chest tighten with unease.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling your hips with a grace that was almost hypnotic. Her hands trailed down your chest, her nails scraping lightly against your skin as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear.

“Tonight, you’re mine,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “And you’re going to give me everything I want.”

Her lips found yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip as her hands roamed your body. You tried to resist, to turn your head away, but she grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t fight it,” she murmured, her eyes dark with need. “You know you want this just as much as I do.”

Her hips rocked against yours, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through your body despite your fear. She smiled, sensing your weakness, and leaned down to capture your lips again, her tongue slipping into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

Her hands moved lower, unbuttoning your pants with a deftness that left you no time to react. She pulled them off, along with your boxers, leaving you completely exposed, and you felt a flush of shame as she looked at you, her eyes roaming over your body with a predatory gleam.

“So eager already,” she purred, her hand wrapping around your length, stroking you with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your hips buck against your will. “You can’t hide how much you want this.”

You clenched your teeth, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to escape your lips, but it was useless. She knew exactly how to touch you, how to make your body betray you, and before long, you were gasping for air, your hips jerking against her hand as she stroked you.

“Chuu,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please—”

“Please what?” she interrupted, her lips curling into a smirk as she leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. “Please keep going? Please make you come? Or are you going to beg me to stop?”

You couldn’t answer, your mind a blur of pleasure and fear as she continued to stroke you, her hand moving faster and faster until you were on the edge, your body trembling with the need to release.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her hand stopping abruptly, leaving you aching and desperate. “Not until I say so.”

She let go of you, climbing off the bed to retrieve something from the drawer. Your eyes followed her, your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as you watched her pull out a bottle of lube. She caught your gaze, her lips curving into a smile as she climbed back onto the bed, straddling your hips once more.

“Relax,” she murmured, squeezing a generous amount of lube onto her fingers. “This might hurt a little, but I promise you’ll like it.”

Her fingers found your entrance, and you tensed, your body instinctively trying to pull away, but the ties around your wrists held you in place. She leaned down, her lips brushing against yours as she pushed a finger inside you, the sensation sending a sharp jolt of pain through your body.

“Breathe,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost soothing, as she slowly worked her finger inside you. “That’s it. Just relax.”

You tried to do as she said, focusing on your breathing as she moved her finger in and out, the pain slowly giving way to a strange, unfamiliar pleasure. She added a second finger, stretching you open, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Good boy,” she purred, her lips brushing against yours as she continued to prep you, her fingers moving with a precision that left you trembling. “You’re taking me so well.”

When she finally removed her fingers, you felt a strange emptiness, a need that you couldn’t quite explain. She positioned herself above you, her eyes locked on yours as she guided you inside her, the sensation overwhelming as she slowly lowered herself onto you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your back arching as she took all of you, her tight walls squeezing around you in a way that left you breathless.

“That’s it,” she murmured, her hands moving to your chest as she began to move, her hips rolling against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your head spin. “You’re mine now. All mine.”

Her pace quickened, her movements becoming more urgent as she rode you, her nails digging into your skin as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours.

“Come for me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body trembling as you came inside her, the pleasure overwhelming as she continued to ride you through your release. She didn’t stop, not until she was satisfied, her own moans filling the room as she finally reached her peak, her body collapsing onto yours as she caught her breath.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, almost tender kiss. “But we’re not done yet.”

She untied your wrists, her hands moving to her nightstand for something else—something darker, more possessive. Your heart raced as you realized what she was reaching for, the glint of metal catching the light.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re really mine.”

The cold metal clicked shut around your wrist, the weight of it grounding you in place as she smiled down at you, her eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. “You’re never leaving me again.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she silenced you with a kiss, her body moving against yours once more, her hips rolling with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left you gasping for air. “Again,” she demanded, her voice trembling with need. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your body responded despite your fear, your hips bucking against hers as she rode you, her nails digging into your skin as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. “Come for me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body trembling as you came inside her, the pleasure overwhelming as she continued to ride you through your release. She didn’t stop, not until she was satisfied, her own moans filling the room as she finally reached her peak, her body collapsing onto yours as she caught her breath.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, almost tender kiss. “But we’re not done yet.”

She untied your wrists, her hands moving to her nightstand for something else—something darker, more possessive. Your heart raced as you realized what she was reaching for, the glint of metal catching the light.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re really mine.”

[thoughtfulfiction]

Dad and Mini’s Weekend

Author’s note: Gameday re-write! Bolt up as always. Hope you enjoy this dad!Justin piece!

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

The toddler stops in her tracks, putting down the purple crayon she was holding to look up at him like he’s offended her. “I’m not a baby, I’m this many,” she informs him, holding up four fingers. He reaches over the tiny drawing table and puts one of her fingers down so she’s only holding three up. They’ve been trying to work on it this week and there is clearly room for improvement.

“You’re right mini, you’re not a baby. Daddy’s sorry, do you forgive me?”

She hops out of her seat, the masterpiece she was creating quickly forgotten so she can give Justin a hug. “I forgives you, but...why do you call me mini?”

“Because,” he begins, laughing when she holds her hands up to be carried. He secretly still really liked to hold her, it was hard to believe the once small, green-eyed miniature girl version of him that he could hold in his hands like a football, was now a fully functioning, walking and talking miniature…person.

He walks the two of them to the bathroom, turning on the light so she can see their reflection in the mirror. ”Look at us, you look just like me. You’re my mini me. My mini.” She stares back and forth between her reflection and his, tilting her head as if that would help her get a better look. “See? We have the same eyes, same nose and—smile? That little hole in your cheek? It’s called a dimple. I have one too. And when I was your age my hair was blonde just like yours.” He pokes at each body part as he lists them off, his heart being warmed at the sound of her little laugh.

“Oh! We match daddy. We’re the same!” Remi kisses him on the cheek.

Justin was in charge for the next few days while you were in Chicago at a work conference. Remi had recruited you to help her make a list of things she wanted to do with him. And he made it his personal mission to get everything on the list done, to make up for all the lost quality time he didn't get to spend with her during the season.

Today, the main thing on the agenda was the aquarium. He strapped her up in her car seat and asked what she wanted to listen to on the way to their destination, secretly already knowing the answer because it had been the same for the last two weeks anytime either of you drove her around.

"The Cars song!"

“What’s the magic word?” He says looking at her through the rearview mirror, waiting for her to understand what he was getting at.

“Um…please?”

He nods and grabs his phone, playing the song on repeat. Remi starts dancing in her seat as “Life is a Highway” plays on the speakers. Justin watches intently as she wiggles her arms and shakes her little body as she pleases and joins her in singing along. If he could bottle up these tiny moments he would and he’d savor them just to be able to look back on them in the future because his mini was already growing up too fast.

Their duet lasted over an hour, driving into Newport from the ranch, and every time they left their home it made him grateful for his purchase to give his family some privacy. Of course he loved meeting fans and interacting with them but he wanted to be present with his daughter and interruptions or a quick selfie here and there got a bit old. And Remi was still trying to wrap her mind around why her dad always had people following him or taking pictures with him so answering those questions was always more fun for you than it was for him. So when he could be in the comfort of his own home, he wanted to be. But then again, if Remi said jump, most of the time he said how high and that is why he had this trip to take her to see some fish.

"Do you see those with the pretty tail that looks like a tutu? Those are called Red Betta Fish, so we can mark off the red square because we found something." Justin points out, handing Remi the marker and showing her the spot on the aquarium scavenger hunt they just checked off. After she was done she handed him the sheet, holding on to the writing utensil. He held out his free hand for her to hold, which she happily grabbed as her dad continued identifying different fish.

Remi looked at the various colors and sizes of the animals in front of her. “Do fishies have mommies and daddies too?”

“They do,” her dad nods, smiling at the fact that his daughter was tugging at his heartstrings due to her care for animals. He saw more of himself in her every single day but it was still mind-blowing.

“Maybe the mama went to work too, like mine. And the one in Finding Nemo!” She muses, looking up at him.

“You’re right! It’s exactly like that.” Neither you nor Justin had the heart to tell her what really happened to the mom when you all sat down for family movie night last Saturday. "Should we go find something blue?"

The toddler could not contain her excitement at the sight of the luminescent jellyfish. "Can we take one home? I want mama to see."

"Mini, I don't think they'd be very happy living at the house, they need lots of water. What if we find one at the gift shop to bring home? I think I saw some with glitter."

She understands immediately, silently wondering if she could let one live in the pool at their other house in California but she forgets her train of thought as soon as she he mentions glitter. "Yeah! I want more sparkly things in my room. Daddy?" He hums, grabbing her hand again, "someone is looking at us."

Justin turns around and spots the culprit, a little boy, maybe around 12 or 13, wearing his jersey. He can hear the dad, at least he assumed, who was telling him to just go up and ask for a picture. Remi pulls her dad over to them, clearly having heard the entire exchange as well.

"You should take a picture with my dad. He's really nice and he'll say yes." She obviously knew he played football but didn't quite understand the fact that her dad was famous. He was literally just her dad and he wanted to keep it that way as long as he could.

The kid's dad smiles at her, asking Justin if it's ok to interrupt his family time. "It's fine," he reassures him, "she insists and isn't the best at taking no for an answer," the quarterback huffs out a laugh. "Do you have your phone on you?" The dad pulls it out immediately, snapping a picture of the three of them as Remi looks on proudly. She definitely got that part from you. The father and son thank him after he signs the jersey with Remi's marker and both duos move on with the rest of their day.

Remi falls asleep on their way home, hugging her new plushie tight like her life depends on it. She's awake by the time he pulls into the driveway, thanking him for the "best day ever."

As soon as he opened the door, she went to her playroom to sit her plushie in a chair so all of her stuffed animals would be ready for tomorrow's tea party. "Hey," Justin pokes his head in, announcing his arrival when Remi doesn't turn around, purely focused on her "stuffies."

"Mini, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

She finally turns, plopping down to sit on one of the beanbags. "Can I have pizza pretty please? With ranch. Ranch is yummy."

"Sure, pizza and ranch coming right up."

"Thank you daddy," she says instinctively, having turned all of her attention back to the table.

Justin closed the playroom door, taking the stairs two at the time to grab his phone from the master bedroom. He clicked on your contact, praying you'd answer asap. "Babe, I really need your help. Remi wants pizza for dinner, how do I make healthy pizza?"

He hears you laugh on the other end of the line. "Oh my god. You know you don't have to give her absolutely everything she wants. I know you said you wanted to make salmon, so just make that. She'll be fine."

"I know but—she really wants pizza," you can hear the slight pout in his voice, reminding you of Remi.

"She also wants to be a unicorn when she grows up."

"I don't think I can make that happen, but I can definitely do some pizza. Can you just send me the recipe, please?" He really was desperate.

You chuckle at his antics, Remi really did have him wrapped around her little fingers. "Fine. Pushover."

"Whatever, thank you. I love you and we'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too honey. You're a really good dad," you tell him seriously, "Rem has no idea how lucky she is to have you. We both are."

Justin didn't realize exactly how much of a pushover he was until he found himself sharing his bed with a toddler and the blue sparkly jellyfish he bought a few hours earlier and a gray bear named Muffin. Remi had cried sometime after dinner, a tell-tale sign she was tired, complaining that she missed you and his solution to that problem was to let her sleep in your spot for the night. She, of course, happily agreed.

All of the lights were off and he was seconds away from closing his eyes when he heard her giggle. "What's so funny over there little lady?"

"My pillow smells like mama. Like she’s right here.” She whispers in shock and he shakes his head in amusement, both of them drifting off to sleep with smiles on their faces.

The next day, Remi wanted to get into her costume. She’d been watching a lot of Spidey and his Amazing Friends and was convinced that she was Gwen Stacey aka Ghost Spider. So when her grandparents bought her a costume, she wore it pretty much daily. And her dad had to be Thor…for obvious reasons. The superheroes saved the city from the green goblin’s plan to turn everyone into hamsters and then they had to save Muffin from Doctor Octopus’ evil lair.

“We make a pretty good team, Spider Gwen.” Justin says, putting the Thor hammer on the couch.

“It’s Ghost Spider daddy.” She corrects him.

“Oh I'm sorry Ghost Spider. How about you take your costume off and we take a little snack break? Superheroes need food to keep up their energy.”

After enjoying her apple slices with peanut butter, Remi grabbed the list and asked her dad to read off the two things they had left.

"Flowers and slime."

She had added making slime to the list because she learned how to do it in preschool last week and made you stop at the store to get all the necessary supplies. Although he was secretly looking forward to this little science project with her, it was just another reminder that she was much closer to kindergarten than she was to the newborn stage. He followed the detailed directions that Remi got from school and added glue and food coloring to a bowl and let her stir.

“Do you wanna add in the baking soda?” He hands her the spoon and she dumps it into the bowl.

“Uh oh daddy I spilled. I need a tissue.”

“It's okay, we can clean it up when we’re done. You can keep mixing, you’re doing so well.” Justin runs a hand down her ponytail, proud of himself for successfully getting it all, even if it took him three tries. In his defense, Remi had a lot of hair to work with. “Next, we need to add some of this saline solution and mix it with our hands. Are you ready?”

Remi rolls up her sleeves with her dad’s help and digs into the bowl, kneading the slime with so much joy in her face. The orange slime came out gooey and perfect and they played with it for a while, cleaning everything up together when they were done. He loved that she was into science, fishing expeditions, superheroes and of course...football. But she was also a lover of unicorns, princesses, tea parties and all things glitter so they had gone through a plethora of her interests throughout the week.

The last thing on the list was going to the flower shop to surprise you with a bouquet when you came home. He walks into the tiny store with Remi on his shoulders, setting her down so she can smell the roses. "The yellow is pretty."

"It is pretty," he acknowledges, a sense of peace washing over him. Justin felt like he was in a constant state of serenity when he was home, the calm and quiet energy that followed him daily during the offseason was something he didn't want to take for granted.

The store clerk spots them browsing and asks if they're looking for anything in particular. "My mama is pretty, so we need the prettiest flowers in the world for her surprise."

She smiles, placing her hand on her chest at the toddler's words. "Well, I think I have just the thing you're looking for," the clerk crouches down to Remi's level, "do you wanna take your dad and see?"

Remi nods excitedly after looking at Justin to make sure it's alright. He walks behind her to the side of the store where they are shown an expansive array of flowers to make their own bouquet. The quarterback chooses sunflowers, remembering Remi's comment about the prettiness of the yellow, baby's breath and peonies and Remi picks out some roses, ranunculus bulbs and tulips, all various shades of pink. He gave her a fist bump on their way out the door, thoroughly proud of their work.

Before he knew it, you were texting him to let him know you were picking up dinner on your way home while the two of them watched Moana. Usually she’d be up and running around while the movie played in the background but tonight she was focused, cuddled into his side with her eyes glued to the screen. But as soon as you walked into the house Remi ran into your arms, not wanting to let go.

“Oh hi sweet cookie, did you have fun with daddy?”

“Uh huh, daddy is the best! I love him,” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“I love him too, he’s pretty great isn’t he? You’re so lucky sugar, you have the best daddy in the whole world.” Justin walks up to you and wraps his arms around both of you, sandwiching Remi in the middle. He gives you a kiss on the cheek and kisses the top of the toddler’s head. “So…tell me everything. What did you and daddy do?”

She takes a deep breath and you know you’re in for a long story. You catch your husband’s eyes and he shoots you a tight lipped smile as he goes back outside to your car to get your bags inside. Remi doesn’t let you go as you walk her to the couch.

“It was sooooo fun…” she begins, telling you every single detail without missing a beat.

“Do you need help unpacking? You know I have a little experience with it.” Justin smiles, looking down at your suitcase, long after Remi had gone to bed. You weren't going to say no to the help, gesturing for him to go for it. The man grabbed all of your essentials, easily placing them in their rightful places and putting your bags up without breaking a sweat. His tidiness and attention to detail had become even more attractive since you became parents, it really came in handy.

"How was it? Did she nap at all?"

He closes the distance between you and wraps you in his arms, sneaking in a kiss. "Barely. Maybe fell asleep twice for a total of less than two hours the last 4 days."

"I knew that was gonna happen," you laugh, shaking your head, "she was probably scared to fall asleep and miss spending every single waking moment with you."

"Not just 'waking.'" He notes. "She also slept in our bed...said she missed you too much to sleep alone."

"Of course she did, that kid is a genius."

"I swear she's three going on thirty. It hurts to admit but I just kept thinking about how fast she's growing and honestly? Sometimes I miss the baby stage. I—I think I want another kid." Your husband admits.

You look up at him with your eyes wide in shock, "really?"

"Yeah. Remi is...perfect. I just want her to have someone to play with and everything we did this weekend was great but it would be nice for her to have a sibling to do those things with. Hanging out with dad is cool now but it won't be forever."

Pondering his revelation, you bit your lip, taking in his words. "Two kids. That wouldn't be so bad."

Now it's his turn to be surprised, "you sure? I mean we don't have to make a decision right now, it's just-I always saw us having our own little crew running around."

"We did make a pretty cute kid, another one would just add more fun to our lives. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything,” he responds without hesitation. He’d probably carry the baby for you if that was humanly possible.

"This time I want to have an offseason baby, there's no way I'm having another kid in the middle of the season."

Justin's laugh vibrates against your chest as you hug him. "Deal. And maybe this one will look like you a little bit because Remi is all me."

"You carry a child for 10 months, suffer through over 20 hours of labor all for them to look like someone else. This one better look exactly like me or I'm suing you and your selfish genes."

"We'll have to wait and see but I may be seeing you in court."

[canmom]

"don't post links to pirate sites" as a security through obscurity strategy seems... weak. if a pirate site is so obscure that almost nobody can find it, it's also essentially pointless.

but yes, if a pirate site is common knowledge, the feds will be working on destroying it. so the idea is i assume to achieve an intermediate level of obscurity, where you have to have a certain amount of talent for asking the right people or searching the right things to find it. but... whatever capacity for research you are asking people to have on that front, the feds are equally capable of it, and they have a whole lot more time on their hands for tracking down pirate sites! security through obscurity is a losing game for piracy. the perfect sweet spot where people can find your pirate resource but the feds cannot is something of a mirage.

if not that, than what?

the current piracy system involves a few different tiers of accessibility, and various components that are more or less decentralised.

torrents are the most resilient tech because to stamp out a torrent (with DHT enabled) you have to suppress every seed. so, you have big public torrent trackers like TPB; these are well known and rely on hopping domains and redundancy for security. the ratio of seeds to leeches tends to be low, but the number of users is large enough that there will be at least a few seeds out there for most stuff. torrent clients have gotten a lot better at seeding strategies that take into account your seed ratio and what's currently available in the swarm, so if you just leave everything on seed and open your torrent client fairly often (use a VPN though lol), you don't really need to think about it.

then you have private trackers; these operate on an invite basis. the problem with this is that when the pool of users is so small, the odds of a given seed being online are also small. to prevent torrents dying, they gamify it: you get points for seeding and if you don't have enough points you can't download anything until you seed more. to help people get back in the game there will be 'freeleech' events. being active on a private tracker takes a bit of work.

and of course you have to get in in the first place, which tends to require a proven track record of seeding on other private trackers, and some kind of interview with the operators. getting involved in private trackers is a much bigger ask, you have to figure out where to get your foot in the door, and work your way up to the more insular trackers. it's like a mini subculture. it's valuable, but not scalable.

at the top level of inaccessibility is the warez scene. this is a whole subject that i'm not even gonna get into, go read wikipedia. historically this is where the files actually come from, before getting distributed on public trackers, usenet etc. but good luck getting in there lmao, they are understandably quite paranoid.

of course, for stuff to get on pirate sites you need somebody to go the effort of ripping and encoding it. this is where a major point of failure exists. when RarBG went down recently, the biggest loss was not the existing archive of torrent links, which can be backed up - it was that they were very active at converting scene releases into torrents with a decent balance of file size and quality, which then filter out into the various public trackers. that is much harder to replace! but what killed RarBG wasn't even suppression by authorities - according to their statement, it was a bunch of the admins getting covid or dying or fighting in the Russia-Ukraine war, which made the whole operation impossible to continue. so despite the thousands of people who download RarBG torrents, this single point of failure was overstressed and broke.

as far as the ethics of spreading links to pirate sites go... if it's something like a mega drive, yeah, the chances of a takedown are pretty high if it gets noticed! no question. but those things are by nature short-lived; if you want to use that for archival you're building on sand. there's also databases like emuparadise, but there was no saving that through obscurity, it just took Nintendo a minute to bring the case.

in this kind of centralised case, the clock is ticking from day 1. what we want is to maximise the number of people who are able to save copies while it's up, and then some of those people can put it up again somewhere else and keep the authorities playing whack-a-mole. (for a small collection of files, a sensible measure would be to make a torrent and a mega drive side by side, so that people can download the mega drive and then add the torrent to their client to seed if it gets nuked.)

as for torrent sites, the thing is that torrents rely for effectiveness on a swarm that is either very large or very responsible about seeding. if it's a public tracker, it has to be well known or it's pointless. instead of security through obscurity, the form of security for these sites is try to make the resource itself hard to take down - operating the tracker/archive in countries that don't have copyright treaties, maintaining mirrors, and of course distributing as many seeds as possible so the torrent can stay alive even if the site goes down.

the major problem with a dead torrent site is discoverability. if it's harder to find the torrent, fewer people will download it, the existing seeds will gradually go offline, and of course you can't download a torrent that you don't know exists. and while you could imagine a system of broadcasting metadata about a torrent (title, encoding etc.) in a DHT-like way but that would be so vulnerable to fakes and spam. maybe some kind of cryptographically signed 'this torrent is good' declaration is possible? I know certain torrent clients tout discovery features, but honestly I don't know how well they work. I'm sure there are projects that are way ahead of the game than me on this question.

but yeah anyway trying to browbeat people into not sharing links to pirate media is 1. futile, by the time you see it the cat is out of the bag 2. not a sustainable strategy for security. if you wanna lecture people, 'use a VPN and seed your torrents' is evergreen ;p

[missaengg]

A Bittersweet Reunion

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader Tags: nsfw, mdni, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, developing relationship, light angst Word Count: 4.9k Because standing before you is a face you never thought you’d see ever again. Standing before you, dressed in his colonel’s uniform with an apple in his gloved hand, is Caleb, who’s supposed to be dead. The same Caleb you watched die a year ago. The same Caleb you mourned for months, still mourned deep in your heart even though it might appear to the world you’ve moved on. ao3 link here.

Your eyes snap open abruptly, blinking to clear the haze blurring your vision as they adjust to the dim light, a ceiling you don’t recognize coming into view. Dazed, you sit up rapidly, a wave of dizziness overcoming you from the sudden change in elevation. 

Your brain attempts to clear the fog, trying to remember how you came to be on this couch, in this room. The last thing you remember, you were on a mission, tracking down a potential lead about the Aether core not too far from Linkon City. It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission to verify the lead, but a few minutes after your arrival, you were ambushed from behind, your consciousness turning black. The next thing you know waking up in this strange location.

You reach for your holster, cursing under your breath when you find it empty.

The realization you’re unarmed slams the precariousness of your situation into you, the high alert of potential danger returning clarity back to your muddled brain. It’s only now that you notice the blanket draped over you, that your body rests on a black, leather couch. The leather feels smooth under your hands, an attestment to its high level of quality, which fits the caliber of what appears to be a penthouse living room. Though, it’s too dark to distinguish much more than the outline of the sparse furniture inside save for the brief flashes of lightning bursting through the wall-length windows.

Your eyes dart left and right as you try to regain your bearings, searching for a clue as to where you are or who might’ve attacked you.

“You’re awake.”

A deep voice cuts through the silence. Somewhere in the back of your head, you have a nagging sensation that you recognize this voice. There’s a sense of familiarity as though you’ve heard it many times before. A voice that you’ve missed ardently for the past year, but it couldn’t be. It’s impossible.

The long tail of a heavy, black coat and a pair of pristine knee-high, leather boots sweep into your vision. Your eyes follow the intruder’s form up, your heart wrenching when they settle on his face. Because standing before you is a face you never thought you’d see ever again. Standing before you, dressed in his colonel’s uniform with an apple in his gloved hand, is Caleb, who’s supposed to be dead. The same Caleb you watched die a year ago. The same Caleb you mourned for months, still mourned deep in your heart even though it might appear to the world you’ve moved on.

“You’re alive?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Caleb meets your gaze, a flicker of something akin to regret crossing his galaxy-colored purple eyes. After a momentary pause, he answers, “I am.”

He provides no explanation. No apology. He provides nothing, but silence, and it hangs heavily in the air, the only two occupants of the room frozen in place. One frozen from guilt. The other from shock.

You break the silence first, hesitantly reaching for his face, your fingers gingerly tracing the curve of his cheek. “Is it really you?”

Caleb nods, leaning into your touch and placing his hand over yours. “It’s me… I’m back.” He nuzzles your palm causing you to gasp and lay your hand flush against his face.

You can feel the warmth of his cheek on your palm, the pressure of his large hand covering yours. The warmth spreads across your hand and down your arm, proof that the Caleb before you isn’t a dream. That he’s real and alive and in front of you. 

But you’ve had this dream so many times before only to wake up, your hand grasping nothing that you don’t trust what your senses are telling you. “I’m not dreaming? You’re real?”

Caleb chuckles, and you feel his facial muscles shift and his amusement vibrate on your fingers. “I’m as real as I’ll ever be, Pipsqueak.”

You close your eyes, wondering if you dare allow yourself to believe this is reality, that he won’t disappear when you open them again.

“Hey.” Caleb’s voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you feel his hand cradle your chin, tilting it towards him. “It’s really me. I’m really here.”

Holding your breath, you open your eyes one at a time, still skeptical as to whether this is just another dream, but when your vision clears, it’s filled with Caleb’s gentle smile. Tears spring to your eyes. “Caleb…” You lurch forward, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

Caleb returns your embrace, patting your back in soothing circles, the same way he did when you were children. “I know. I missed you too.”

It’s only now with his arms around you that you can admit to yourself this isn’t a fleeting illusion, that he’s actually here in the flesh. Hugging you.

That he’s been alive for the past year and didn’t tell you.

The relief you feel shifts into a seething rage that courses through your veins like fire. You shove him away, roughly, clenching your hands into fists and slamming them into his shoulders. Once. Twice. Three times before you feel any semblance of satisfaction. “You’re alive, and you didn’t tell me?!” You hit him again, each contact of your fist with his torso echoing your frustration and grief. “Why? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Caleb simply stands there, doing nothing to block your assault as if he knows he deserves every ounce of your ire. He allows you to pummel him, over and over again until you stop of your own volition, too exhausted to continue.

“I couldn’t,” he replies when you finally settle, casting his gaze away from you to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry?!” you snarl, disbelief raising the volume of your voice with each word you spit out. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Caleb. You let me think you were dead for a year. A year!” You punch him one more time. Hard.

“I know.”

“I mourned you for an entire year, Caleb. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice cracks as it trails off, your unshed tears adding a hoarseness to the otherwise clear timbre of your voice.

“I’m sorry…”

You slump back onto the couch, your spent fists dropping listlessly into your lap. “Where…where have you been all this time? Why couldn’t you tell me you were alive? Why couldn’t you contact me?” The questions come quickly as your fingers twist together with so much force, they turn white. “Why?”

“I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

You stare at your childhood friend who refuses to look you in the eye while rolling that stupid apple in his hands. You want to keep demanding him for answers, anything to explain himself even if they’re half-hearted lies, but seeing him alive triggers the memory of the explosion that killed him. Even a year later, you can still recall the scene so vividly. You can still feel the raging heat burning your skin. The eruptive force knocking you off your feet. The acrid smoke stinging your nose. The despair as you discovered the necklace you gifted him through your blurry vision and your ringing ears.

No one could’ve survived a blast of that magnitude. No one. But somehow Caleb survived, and if Caleb had been alive after all this time, then it’s possible he might not be the only survivor.

“Grandma,” you whisper, your eyes widening with possibility, a hope you haven’t felt in a long time blooming in your heart. “If you’re alive, does that mean…Is she…?”

“No,” Caleb answers curtly, his kind eyes turning cold. “She’s dead.”

Your face twists. A part of you knew that it was a slim possibility, but the resulting devastation is the same, slashing the delicate hope you dared feel to pieces. “How did you…survive?”

Guilt ripples below Caleb’s stony expression. His silence creates a suffocating tension that hangs palpably in the air, so long a horrible thought pops into your head. One so awful it kills you to even consider it. One you can’t even begin to entertain, let alone fathom.

“Were you– Did you–” cause the explosion? You want to ask, but the rest of your question withers away in your throat because the idea of Caleb being responsible for Grandma’s death is too horrific for you to voice out loud. 

Caleb doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. The pained expression he wears on his face says everything.

“No…Caleb, tell me that’s not true,” you demand, searching his face for even a hint that you’re wrong. Dead wrong. “Tell me you didn’t– Tell me I’m mistaken, that I don't know what I’m accusing you of.”

Caleb flinches at the sharp edge in your voice. “It had to be done.”

“I don’t understand.” You lean forward, desperate to know what he’s thinking, desperate to make this all make sense even if in some twisted way. “She took us in and raised us when we had nowhere else to go. How could you?”

“Pipsqueak, I…” Caleb runs a tired hand over his face, over the bags under his eyes and his haggard, sunken cheeks. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“How can you say that? Of course you had a choice,” you shout, vehemently shaking your head and bolting upright onto your knees. “How could you murder the woman who gave us a home?” You’re so incensed you almost don’t notice the way Caleb clenches his fists and grits his teeth, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he’s agitated. You need answers, answers only he can give. “Caleb, answer me.”

“Because she hurt us!” he explodes before softening. “Because…she hurt you. She had to pay for her crimes.”

“Caleb, she saved us.”

“She experimented on us.”

“And then she had a change of heart,” you argue.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s just as culpable as the other scientists,” Caleb says with a finality. “She hurt us – hurt you – and for that she had to pay.”

“No, Caleb.” You press your lips together, surveying the man barely holding himself together in front of you. A man you barely recognize anymore. “She saw what they were doing to us and broke us out. You know that.”

Caleb laughs harshly, his laughter devoid of any warmth, ringing hollow in the cold, dark room. “She didn’t.”

“What?”

“The organization decided that we’d be less stressed in a home environment so they tasked her with raising us. It was just another means to gather data for their experiments.”

“That…” That you didn’t know. Deep creases form in your brow as you process this new revelation, but deep down you know it doesn’t matter. Not anymore, now that she’s gone. “It might’ve started that way, but she never went back. She took us away and hid. She made it right.”

You startle when Caleb ruffles your hair the way he used to in the days before he “died”, a ghost of a rueful grin on his lips. He takes a seat on the black marble coffee table, looking down at the apple in his hand as he muses on old, painful memories. “You were too young to remember, but I remember everything. I remember how they kept us locked up. How they poked and prodded us. How they ignored our screams.” He levels his gaze with yours. “I remember how you’d cling to me after they were done. How you’d cry yourself to sleep in my arms. How powerless I was to stop it – stop them. I remember it all.”

A storm rages in the depths of his gaze, one so turbulent it causes your breath to hitch in your throat. “Caleb…”

“But I’m not powerless anymore.” Caleb’s eyes narrow into slits. “Not anymore.”

Buried deep beneath his fury, you catch a glimpse of the scared, little boy he must’ve been back then. The same hurt, little boy who bravely protected you the best he could with no one there to comfort him. You reach for him, slowly, but your hand falters at the last moment. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the Caleb I know.”

You silently plead with him to deny everything he’s just said. To say he hasn’t changed. That he’s still the same Caleb, the same childhood friend you’ve always known.

Caleb smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, but his eyes are blank. Emotionless. Dead. 

“Caleb...?”

“Did you honestly think I’d always be the same kind-hearted boy from your childhood?” he asks cruelly as he lits the apple to his mouth and takes a bite, his canines glinting as they sink into the fruit. A streak of lightning hurtles through the night sky behind him, bathing him in an ominous glow.

You watch in muted horror as he chews methodically, taking his time to grind the white flesh between his teeth and swallow.

“I’m not the Caleb you knew anymore,” he says remorsefully. “I changed the moment I started my revenge.”

“...Revenge?”

“For what they did to you,” Caleb growls, slamming the apple down on the table and spraying flecks of juice over its polished surface. “The ones who experimented on us. Ever. I’m going to destroy them piece by piece from the inside out until there’s nothing left. So they can’t harm us – harm you – ever again.”

You yearn to tell him that he doesn’t have to, that you don’t need revenge. That you only wish for him to be back in your life, but the steely resolve engulfing him gives you pause because you can sense that nothing you say will change his mind. Nothing you say will stop him. “Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” you ask instead.

Caleb nods.

“All by yourself?”

He nods again.

Something inside you breaks to know that he’s been on his own, alone, consumed by anger, pain, and hate. You reach for him again, but this time you cradle his head in your arms, nestling it into your shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone. I can fight with you.”

Caleb stirs, his fingers clutching the hem of your shirt like a child clutching someone for comfort. “I want…I want to keep you in a world where it’s just the two of us. I want that more than anything,” he begins, quietly, his voice muffled by your body. “But until everything is resolved, I need to make sure you’re safe and sound. I need to know you’re out of harm’s way.”

You pull back, placing both of your hands on his shoulders, looking him square in the eyes. “I’m not the same young girl from back then. I can handle myself. I’m a Hunter, I fight wanderers for fuck’s sake.”

The corners of Caleb’s mouth quirk upwards into a tiny, wry grin, the first genuine smile breaking through his frigid exterior. “I never said you couldn’t, Pipsqueak.”

“Then why?”

Caleb cups your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. Despite the leather glove, the warmth of his hand somehow manages to reach you, sinking below the surface and stoking a bittersweet nostalgia. “Because…” His voice trembles. “...it would kill me if something were to happen to you.”

His eyes waver with fear, regret, and…longing. A wistful yearning that you know all too well, one you’ve suppressed time and time again. Your head tilts before you process what you’re doing, your lips seeking his if only to satisfy your desire to touch him, desire laced with your own anguish and need.

“Squeaks…” Caleb stops you before your lips meet. “Don’t… Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not,” you snap, jerking back, the realization of what you almost did and his rejection burning on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I–” 

But you’re interrupted when Caleb grazes your collarbone, the intimate nature of his touch furthering the scorching blush spreading on your face. His finger hooks under the silver chain around your neck and pulls, exposing the small apple charm and nameplate with the words “When U Come Back” inscribed in the metal from where it hides under your shirt. 

His breath hitches, eyeing the necklace in his hand. “You’ve been wearing this all this time?”

Your heart twinges when you see the charms glittering on his palm, remembering all the nights you clutched it to your heart as you cried yourself to sleep. The way you felt it pressed against your sternum when you laid a hand over your chest every time you missed him, multiple times a day.

“It was the only thing I had left…of you.”

Caleb curls his fingers around the pendants, taking care not to tug the chain lest he hurts you. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, a shudder-like groan rising from deep within and ripping through his throat. “Do you know how difficult it was for me? To have to hold myself back while seeing you everyday? I know what I feel is wrong. I know you only see me as an older brother. But I’ve always held myself back and endured. Day, after day, after day. It was suffocating.” Caleb opens his eyes, staring at you imploringly. He breathes heavily as if each labored breath is a battle to restrain himself. “So don’t make this harder for me, Squeaks, cause I don’t know how much I can hold back anymore.” 

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his, your faces so close, the tips of your noses brush together. “Then don’t. Don’t hold back anymore,” you whisper. “I never thought of you as my brother, Caleb. I want this. I want you.”

Caleb draws in a sharp breath, and then his arms are circling your waist, pulling you into his lap. His lips find their way to yours, moving with an urgency that matches your own, a frantic need to consume him in his entirety.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he husks, pulling away just enough to speak, his ragged breath a wisp of heat on your lips. He sweeps his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip, a wanton heat flooding his hooded eyes.

You forget how to breathe. The lust in his eyes holds you captive, sending your stomach aflutter. “Me too,” you murmur.

A quiver runs down Caleb’s tense body, and then his lips are on yours once more, holding you tight as though you might disappear if he lets go, his large hands pressing firmly on your back as they roam. Neither of you break the kiss, not even to breathe, so consumed by the hunger to feel one another after being apart for so long, as if you couldn’t get enough of one another. Because you couldn’t. Not after a year of missing him, wishing you could hold him in your arms, dreaming of his touch.

Caleb’s breath mingles with yours, his tongue darting to the slight part between your lips, demanding entrance. You accede, and his tongue slips in, entwining with your own. You can taste the remnants of the apple he ate just moments before lingering on his tongue adding a sweetness to the dizzying onslaught of passionate kisses you share.

All your senses are filled with Caleb. Moaning, your fingers dig into the stiff fabric of his coat along his broad back, reeling from the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his embrace, the tickle of his teeth nibbling your lip, his heady pants puffing in your ear. But it’s not enough, not even close to being enough.

You want more.

His lips relinquish their hold and travel down the curve of your neck, a trail of fleeting, feathery kisses left behind in their descent. Waves of pleasure radiate from each epicenter, tingling down your spine and pooling into an unsatiated arousal.

A surprised gasp darts out from between your swollen lips when his teeth graze over where your heartbeat pulses as your hips twitch, your body now painfully aware of just how even the simplest of his touch is driving you to the brink of insanity. How even the most gentle of his caresses are igniting a fire you can’t extinguish on your own. “I want…I want to feel you.”

Caleb growls, a guttural sound filled with his desire, evidence of his crumbling resolve. Reluctantly, he pulls away from your neck, fumbling in his haste to remove his crisp, yet cumbersome officer’s coat. He discards the heavy fabric to the push carpet, and once he’s free, you waste no time reaching for the buttons of his shirt, slipping each confining circle through their tethers as fast as your fingers can allow. His bare torso comes into view, bit by bit, each reveal quickening your pulse until your heart hammers in your chest.

Caleb loosens his tie, but before he can finish pulling it off over his head, your mouth is on him, tracing every rise and crevice of his muscles with your tongue, with your lips, and with your teeth.

“Shit, Pipsqueak,” he rasps, somehow managing to toss his tie aside while your mouth distracts him.

A strained ache pulses beneath the surface that fuels your desire, emboldening you to leave a dark, red bruise wherever your mouth lands.

“Squeaks, slow down,” Caleb hisses, pushing you back gently, but you cling to him, steadfast, refusing to quit your torment.

“No,” you mumble against his flushed skin, continuing your ravagement much to his detriment. “I just got you back…I want…I want you…”

Caleb mutters a near inaudible ‘fuck’, and then springs into action, hauling you to your feet. Soon, the two of you are a tangle of limbs and fabric in an attempt to separate flesh from cloth. Tugging your shirt over your head. Yanking his shirt over his shoulders. Unclasping bras. Unbuttoning pants. Unbuckling belts. One by one, they too join the discarded clothing on the floor, cast aside without a second thought.

Your lips locked together, Caleb falls back on the couch, and you fall with him, your legs tucked, straddling his thighs. A hand on your lower back, his other slides to your breast, kneading the soft flesh and thumbing your pert nipple intent on eliciting a sweet little moan.

You give him what he wants. You moan, a throaty, sultry, breathless moan.

Caleb buries his face in between your naked breasts, planting reverent kiss after kiss along the swell. He catches a nipple between his teeth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue and rolling it in his mouth.

Your fingers twist into his hair, your body humming from delight. A particularly naughty nip drives you to gasp his name and arch your back, your throbbing sex grinding down into his pelvis and dragging along the length of his clothed erection, the thin fabric of his briefs one of the last two barriers separating you from him.

“Caleb,” you whimper, a wordless plea begging him to make you his, to claim you as his own.

Caleb presses one last kiss to the divet between your breasts. “I won’t be able to stop myself if we continue,” he pants, his voice strained with restraint. Do you still want this? Want me? His unspoken question quivers in his probing gaze.

“Caleb, I want you.” Holding his gaze, you sit up on your knees and hook your thumbs over the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. You toss the thin item of clothing aside. Your answer to his question. “Don’t make me wait any longer. Please.”

Caleb releases a long, drawn-out groan, what little resolve he has left crumbling. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, caressing the side of your face as he commits every detail of you to his memory. “God, you’re beautiful.” 

He kisses you again, sweetly, tenderly. His hand glides down the side of your body, grazing the plush of your thigh with the pads of his fingers, coming between your legs and running through your folds. As he does, he violently twitches, feeling how ready you are for him, how your slick arousal coats his fingers.

A shaky whimper escapes you when Caleb finds his way to your clit, stroking the sensitive bud in sloppy circles. Shockwaves of pleasure rip through your lower abdomen, leaving you squirming, mewling, whispering his name and biting back moans.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Caleb murmurs into your ear. “The way you sing for me.”

His voice reverberates in your ear, husky and low, a spine-tingling thrill throbbing in your sex, your need for him growing too painful for you to ignore. Dizzy with desire, you reach for his briefs, intent on removing the last obstacle keeping you from him. “I want to feel you…feel you inside me.”

Caleb curses, lifting his hips so you can pull his underwear down past his hips and his thighs, kicking it off once you reach his knees. He grasps the sides of your hips, simultaneously guiding you down onto him as he thrusts up to enter you. You sink down his length, gasping as your warmth encases him and his cock drags on your walls.

“Caleb,” you cry out, reeling from how he’s stretching you with his girth. You feel yourself clench around him, hearing Caleb grunt as your walls flutter to accommodate his size.

“Shit, you feel…feel so good.” Caleb rakes his teeth over the crest of your shoulder, his chest heaving in and out, his passion getting the best of him. “Fuck.”

Tightening his grip, he rocks you against him, his movements controlled, slow. Your lips meet, stealing the breath out of each other’s mouths, coming together and parting, building into a heady whirlwind. As your kisses grow more fervent, so too do Caleb’s thrusts. Your hands fall forwards, bracing themselves on the back of the couch. Your legs hinge at the knees, rising and sinking onto Caleb to match his urgent rhythm.

This – Caleb’s body joined with yours, his fingertips digging into your skin, his lips claiming yours – is everything you’d ever wanted, better than everything you’d ever dreamed.

Better than all the times you spent touching yourself imagining him inside you, claiming all the intimate parts of yourself you wanted to save for him. Better than dreaming of how it’d feel to be in his arms, kissing him, being kissed by him. How he’d whisper your name and stroke your hair. How he’d hold you tight and never let you go.

Breaking the kiss, you throw your head back, the unmistakable tightening of the coil pulling your muscles taut. Caleb plants his lips on the side of your neck, sucking down, collecting the taste of your skin on his tongue. He bucks into you at a relentless pace, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each deep thrust. You can barely keep up with how fast he’s going, how quickly he has you riding his lap.

“Caleb,” you mewl, your eyes closed, your mouth parted. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb…” You ardently whisper his name over and over again.

“Say my name,” Caleb mumbles. “Say it again.”

“Caleb…” you whimper.

The coil is tense with pressure, on the cusp of snapping free. 

“Tell me you love me,” Caleb pleads, his breath wisping on your skin.

“I love you.” You brush your lips on his brow. “I love you.” On the pink glow dusting his cheeks. “I love you.” On the tip of his nose. “I love you.”

Caleb tilts his head up seeking you, and you rest your forehead on his, your lips mere inches away from one another, your breaths mixing together, drinking each other in.

Caleb’s hips snap into you, hard, and then you feel it, the coil springing free, releasing all the pent up tension it was holding. All the words you’ve wanted to say to one another over the years. All the repressed emotions. All the happy memories and the shared joy. All the grief and anguish and pain. All of it culminating into a burst of ecstasy roiling through your quaking body.

You passionately cry out his name, tremors coursing up and down your body. Caleb continues rolling your hips together with his, your rapture pushing him further over the brink, but when your walls pulsate around his length, he catapults over the edge, slamming you down onto his lap as he floods you with his own euphoric bliss.

Foreheads pressed together, Caleb whispers “I love you” before closing the distance between your lips, savoring how you taste, how you feel. He gently shifts your bodies, still joined together as one, until you’re both lying on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms.

You snuggle into his firm chest, relishing how perfectly your bodies seem to fit together, how your head seems to tuck effortlessly under his chin. Your eyes flutter closed. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat in your ears lulls you into a state of drowsiness.

You feel safe. At home. Protected. Cherished. Loved.

As the hazy tendrils of sleep tug on your consciousness, it faintly occurs to you that you didn’t ask him how you came to be here in this penthouse suite with him. But you push the thought from your mind. Right now, you’re just happy to have him back. Right now, you want nothing more than to stay in his arms.

Tomorrow. You can ask him tomorrow.

But for now, all you want is to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.

For now, all you need is him.

The answers can come tomorrow.

Taglist: @william-rex