#it's not surprising it took her the longest to warm up to him

[creganslover]

I think it would be cool if you did a cregan x reader but reader has a dragon and her dragon is called the beast of winterfell or something like that and for the longest time even the people of winterfell have no idea what it means (they assume because of her family they are just referring to her) but while she’s giving birth or something the dragon hears and feels her pain and come out of hiding freaking out and finds her and like puts his snout up to the window to make sure she’s okay and it’s kinda like a crazy moment for the people of winterfell lol just a random idea I had hope you like it feel free to change any details about it

ofc! thank you for requesting, anon! i really hope you'll like it! i apologize if its not that great T^T

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beast of winterfell, cregan stark x targ! fem! reader

wc: 1.4k

warning/s: mentions of blood, childbirth, lmk if i missed anything!

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Ever since you had been arranged to Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, you knew you were about to live a completely different life as you were expected to live with him in Winterfell for the rest of your days. 

It had taken a while for you to get used to being so far from the West and your family, yet Cregan’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, albeit cold, really cold. 

The lighter clothes you used to wear back in Dragonstone now replaced with heavy furs, you could have sworn if you had listened closely you would hear your back crying in protest. 

Alas you carried yourself with grace, it helped that Cregan had understood where you had come from and he always made sure the fireplace in your shared chambers had been extra warm, even if he had to get the firewood by himself. 

One thing you had also missed in the West was being able to go on dragonback without feeling that you were about to freeze at any given moment.

Your dragon, Rhaegos or commonly known as the Red Beast, could not stand to be far from you either, even willing to visit from time to time due to his own stubbornness that reflected your own. Making himself a home far enough from Winterfell within a clearing in a forest, you think, he had been able to live and feed himself, keeping warm with his flames. 

The folks of Winterfell had not even seen a dragon before, you’d wager, and you intend to keep it that way as they would not need to worry of such a magnificent beast nestled near their home, if they had only known. 

Cregan had also known of Rhaegos, he very well knew the creature as the first ever day Cregan had seen you was you landing on your dragon onto the sands of Dragonstone, he was about to depart then, yet you made him stop in his tracks as the Red Beast had made its appearance.

And you noticed him upon your landing, the ship in the distance carrying the banner of House Stark, which you have soon learned who was going to be your betrothed. 

Rhaegos did not take kindly to strangers nearing you but you just had to see who the ship carried, if it included your soon to be husband. 

And when you hopped off your dragon and had reached him, Rhaegos was watching carefully, even crawling himself a yard behind you, though Cregan did not seem to waver, or was trying his best to keep his composure as a dragon was barely in the North and the way its eyes gleamed at him, had him gripping a little tighter on his gloves. 

To your surprise, Rhaegos had nudged its snout against your back, almost shoving you to Cregan that had sent both your cheeks running hot as he caught you in his arms.

It seemed Rhaegos wanted to play cupid at that moment as you profusely apologized to the Lord of Winterfell.

The marriage came and went, devotion had come easy with you and Cregan, no sooner than a moon after your bedding that you had noticed the changes in your body.

It only took a look for the maester to confirm it. You were with child. 

Cregan was absolutely delighted, he could not stop showering you with affection within the confines of your chambers, his big rough hands gently upon your stomach.

There were barely any signs of growth yet making you laugh. It was your first time pregnant, and of course you’ve seen and heard your mother Rhaenyra teach you a thing or two about it, yet it had always worried you as you saw how it could take a toll upon a woman’s body, like with your mother.

Cregan swore no harm will come upon you and your child as you carry it through the moons, always placing his most skilled men out your chambers if he ever was required someplace else than at Winterfell. 

And when he would return, he would not even mind the cheers of his folk, going directly straight to you, enveloping you in a careful embrace, before he would kneel to press his forehead against your swollen middle, the baby within you kicking in response.

The days had inched closer to your due, and you had felt it with the way your body had increasingly been feeling heavy, the way you waddled while you walked. 

Your scream had broken out the great keep of Winterfell as the moment had finally come when their lady was about to give birth. Your handmaidens paced around you in worry, the maester advising you on what you should do- yet it all seemed to drown out by the time it reached your ears.

Blood began to trickle down your legs as your handmaidens rush you to lay upon the bed, you were restless as your body had been covered in sweat, platinum hair matting to your face as you cried out for Cregan, the maester informing you he was well on his way. 

Your breathing came in rushed, panting as your eyes blinked back tears as you were positioned necessarily for birth. Your muscles had contracted painfully, sending you with another wail. 

Though on this day, not only your childbirth would be borne by Winterfell. 

After your long cry, an unfamiliar loud screeching could be heard in the distance, making every folk in Winterfell pause in their actions. Could it be…?

“Dragon!” A knight exclaimed as people began to panic and rush around. 

Cregan was on his way back to Winterfell speeding on his mount after having visited the Hornswood, but he was not alone. To the West of him was undoubtedly a creature he had not seen a long time, your dragon, Rhaegos. 

His screeching may as well echo throughout the North as the dragon flew itself close to Winterfell. Its intimidating and thunderous roars caused worry for Cregan’s folk as he finally managed to rush inside, dismounting off his horse and quickly telling his people to calm- that the dragon would not dare harm them, that it was yours. 

Cregan then rushed towards the great keep, where your screams and wails grew louder, tearing his own heart as he finally shoves himself in the birthing chambers. 

“Cregan!” You cried as he came into view, rushing beside you as the maester had told you to push for the nth time. You wasted no time bearing a deathly grasp upon his hand, knuckles turning white. 

The gap on the windows was then darkened by a shadow followed by a low rumble, the maidens in the room, even the maester was disturbed at the sight of a dragon’s nout, moving outside as its eyes tried to spot you. 

“Calm down, it means you no harm.” Cregan said firmly. “My wife is the priority.” He commanded, glaring daggers at those within the room. 

Your chest heaved up and down as you could feel Rhaegos’ bond clearly with you as your eyes found his slit ones through the window. “Rāpirī (Be calm) Rhaegos!” You managed to say out loud, the dragon grumbling weakly in turn as it hissed at the maester, who quickly got back to his occupation. 

With one last push, you had felt it– the pain had numbed most half of your body, making you try and chase your breath, Cregan’s gaze flickering to you and the maester, with Rhaegos present out the window, his low grumbling ever a presence to your strength. 

All your body seemed to be in a haze, unable to move your legs- or the whole of your body for that fact.

Until a cry of the babe was heard, Cregan’s heart thumping in his chest as he looked at you and the babe being wrapped in the towel.

“You did it, oh thank the Old Gods.” Cregan murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead before his pressed against yours. “It is a girl, my lord, my lady.” The maester announced as the bundle of joy was placed into your arms. 

“Our- our own little girl…” You croaked out, a grin breaking through your face as tears of joy pricked your eyes, Cregan looking at the babe wriggling and making his heart near to bursting. “She’s a beauty like you.” He murmured.

Rhaegos outside began whirring as he seemed to be feeling your joy coursing through your bond, taking himself to the skies screeching happily, making you laugh weakly. 

Cregan then nuzzled both you and the babe, with Rhaegos’ sounds echoing above. 

Your children would need not worry for a protector, when they’ve got the beast and the wolf of Winterfell by their side. 

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

cregan tag-list: @misswynters @i-padfootblack-things

[faebled-stories]

The Algorithm of Pleasure

Kinkvember Day 17: Massage

IVE's Ahn Yujin

AN: I said that the winter fic was the longest but this fic surpasses it, hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading!💖

Yujin juggled her tote bag, phone, and a half-empty water bottle as she fumbled with her keys at the door. The strap of her bag kept sliding down her shoulder, and her fingers, stiff from hours of rehearsals, barely managed to grip the key. She cursed under her breath, jamming it into the lock harder than she meant to until the door finally clicked open.

As she stepped inside, her foot caught on the uneven lip of the doormat. She stumbled forward with a sharp gasp, her phone slipping from her hand and clattering onto the floor. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen in the doorway, her pulse pounding in her ears. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door, letting it swing shut behind her with a dull thud that sounded heavier than usual. The echoes seemed to magnify the weight pressing on her shoulders.

The day had been a relentless whirl of rehearsals, fan events, and a back-to-back schedule that left her feeling like a marionette whose strings had been pulled just a little too tight. Her limbs ached, her mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts, and all she craved was the sanctuary of her own space—a quiet evening to unravel the knot of tension that had tightened throughout the day.

Yujin bent down to retrieve her phone and kicked off her sneakers, which landed with soft thuds on the wooden floor, the sound muffled by the stillness of the apartment. She padded toward the kitchen, the faint hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Her stomach rumbled, but she was far too drained for anything elaborate. A bowl of instant noodles would do. She filled a pot with water, the sharp hiss of the stove’s flame lighting up against the bottom breaking the monotony of the quiet. The aroma of the noodles and broth soon wafted through the small space, warm and savory, wrapping around her like a comforting hug.

Carrying the steaming bowl to her sofa, she felt her muscles relax slightly, her body sinking into the plush cushions. The dim glow of a single lamp illuminated the room, casting long, soft shadows that made the space feel cocoon-like. She took her first bite, savoring the burst of salty and savory warmth on her tongue, when the sudden chime of the doorbell shattered her momentary reprieve.

The unexpected sound froze her mid-motion, her chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. It was late—too late for visitors—and she wasn’t expecting anyone. A flicker of apprehension passed through her as she placed the bowl down on the low coffee table and moved towards the door.

The camera monitor displayed the figure of a delivery driver, clad in a reflective jacket, standing patiently with a large box balanced on a hand truck. His faint wave through the screen reassured her slightly. She buzzed him in, her curiosity piqued.

“Package for Ms. Ahn Yujin?” he asked, his voice steady but professional as he glanced at his paperwork.

“That’s me,” she replied, her tone uncertain as she opened the door wider to let him maneuver the oversized package inside. She hadn’t ordered anything recently.

“Who’s it from?” she added, her brow furrowing as her gaze darted from the large box to the driver.

He adjusted his clipboard, squinting at the label. “It says it’s from a Miss Kim Gaeul.”

Yujin’s breath caught for a moment, her confusion giving way to surprise. Gaeul? Her fellow group member? What could she possibly have sent? A flutter of warmth began to fill her chest as she signed the delivery form, exchanging quick pleasantries with the driver before closing the door behind him.

The package loomed large in her small entryway, a monolithic presence that seemed to demand her attention. She crouched down, running her hands over the plain cardboard exterior as if it might reveal its secrets. The weight of her day began to dissolve, replaced by a bubbling sense of anticipation.

Tearing through the tape and packaging, she found a neatly folded note resting on top of the contents. Her heart gave a small leap as she unfolded it, the familiar handwriting bringing an instant smile to her face.

"Yujinnie, I’ve noticed how stressed you've been lately, so I wanted to share something that always helps me unwind. These are hard to find, but I just got a new one, so I’m passing my old one on to you. I hope you don’t mind! Enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO, Gaeul unnie."

Yujin let out a soft laugh, the tension in her chest easing completely. Gaeul always had a knack for reading her like a book, for knowing exactly when and how to reach out. Her curiosity heightened, she peeled back the remaining layers of wrapping until the gift revealed itself.

A massage chair. And not just any massage chair.

It stood like a technological marvel, its smooth, dark leather gleaming under the apartment’s soft light. The futuristic design gave it an almost spaceship-like appearance, with seamless contours that hinted at an otherworldly level of comfort. Her fingers traced the stitching along the armrests, each seam meticulously placed. She noticed the padded leg slots, their grooves perfectly aligned to cradle calves and ankles, and the armrests equipped with flexible grooves that seemed to beckon her to try them.

The chair’s control panel glowed faintly, buttons labeled with options like “Neck,” “Back,” and “Full Body,” each promising tailored relief. She marveled at the attention to detail, the backrest designed to mold to the spine’s natural curve. Everything about the chair invited her to sink into its embrace.

Then she noticed it—a tiny tear in the leather near the edge of the seat, closer towards the leg slots. It wasn’t glaring, just a small imperfection, but it stood out in contrast to the chair’s otherwise pristine appearance. She ran her fingers over it, the rough edges of the tear catching slightly on her skin.

For a moment, a pang of disappointment flashed through her. Had it been damaged in transit? But the feeling was fleeting. The gift wasn’t just the chair itself—it was the thought behind it, Gaeul’s effort to ease her stress. That realization filled her with gratitude.

“It’s just a small flaw,” she whispered, her lips curling into a gentle smile. She stepped back, taking in the full sight of the chair once more. It wasn’t perfect, but neither was life. It was real, thoughtful, and exactly what she needed. And tonight, she decided, she would let it work its magic.

The chair loomed like a portal to another world—a world unparalleled relaxation and peace. The sleek contours of its design seemed almost otherworldly, the polished leather glinting softly under the ambient glow of a nearby lamp. Yujin’s gaze lingered on it, her anticipation building. Just looking at it felt like an invitation, a promise of comfort that she couldn’t wait to explore.

Her fingers brushed over the armrest, noticing how it seemed to mold perfectly to her arm, almost like it was designed to cradle her in place. As she traced its contours, her hand slipped into a discreet slot nestled within the leather, grazing something cool and papery hidden inside. Curious, she pulled it free—a worn, slightly yellowed manual with curled edges and faint smudges on the cover.

The scent hit her as she flipped it open, a strange yet oddly familiar musk mingled with the faint aroma of aged paper. It clung to her skin as she skimmed the manual’s brittle pages, her eyes catching on a bold section titled: “For Best Results.” She paused, the faint, unplaceable familiarity of the smell lingering in her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite hear.

Her lips quirked into a small, amused smile as she read the next line: “Skin-to-seat contact is recommended for maximum effect.”

“Well, they’re serious about this ‘maximum effect’ thing,” she murmured, rolling her eyes with a soft chuckle. The idea was ludicrous—who stripped down for a massage chair? Still, the thought lingered, hanging in the air like a suggestion she couldn’t quite ignore. If she was going to indulge in this gift, why not get the full experience?

The chair waited patiently, its imposing presence almost daring her to follow the manual’s advice. Yujin hesitated only for a moment before shrugging, a faint blush warming her cheeks. Gaeul’s thoughtfulness deserved her full commitment, no matter how silly it felt. Smiling to herself, she began unbuttoning her shirt, the tiny clicks of each button a soft rhythm in the quiet apartment.

As the fabric slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor, the cool air of the room kissed her skin, raising goosebumps that rippled along her arms. Piece by piece, she let the day’s weight fall away, shedding her clothes until she stood bare before the chair. For a moment, a thrill of vulnerability ran through her—both strange and exhilarating. Her skin tingled in anticipation as she turns to face the chair, its smooth, dark surface now seeming even more inviting.

Yujin lowered herself slowly, the leather cool against her warm skin, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. The initial contact was startling, the texture of the material silky yet firm, cradling her body like a second skin. As she adjusted her position, the contours of the chair seemed to welcome her, perfectly aligning with her frame.

The snug fit was uncanny, as though the chair had been designed with her in mind. Her back pressed gently into the cushioned support, her shoulders nestling into their designated slots. She felt her legs slip effortlessly into the padded grooves, the dividers between them cuddled her inner thighs, firm but yielding, grounding her in place. 

For a moment, Yujin simply sat there, letting the chair’s embrace envelop her. The tension she had carried all day seemed to ebb away, replaced by the soothing pressure of its contours holding her securely. She exhaled softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she prepared to experience the full promise of Gaeul’s thoughtful gift.

Hovering a finger over the glowing control panel, Yujin hesitated for a moment before selecting the “Standard Massage” mode. A soft chime acknowledged her choice, and immediately, a gentle warmth began to spread beneath her. The sensation radiated upward, starting low on her spine and moving in soothing waves that rolled through her body. The warmth was delicate yet enveloping, like sunlight filtering through a thick canopy of trees, melting away the knots of tension that had clung to her muscles all day. She exhaled deeply, her breath carrying away the remnants of stress as the chair worked its magic.

A low, rhythmic hum filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft ambiance of her apartment. The chair began to vibrate, subtle pulses rhythmically traveling up her back. Starting from her hips, the vibrations danced their way to her shoulders, each motion perfectly calibrated, as if guided by the hands of a master massage therapist. The gentle kneading felt intentional, targeting every sore spot, each ache carefully attended to. Her body responded instinctively, muscles softening and loosening with each pass of the rollers, as though the chair was coaxing her into a state of complete relaxation.

As the chair shifted focus, Yujin’s awareness narrowed to the sensation at her thighs. The rollers moved delicately but decisively to her inner thighs, an unexpected yet blissful addition to the experience. The gentle pressure massaged the tender, often-neglected muscles, drawing a soft, contented sigh from her lips. She hadn’t realized how much tension she had been holding there, and now that it was being released, a new layer of relaxation washed over her. The cushioned divider, which had once felt unfamiliar, now seemed like an anchor, grounding her body in place and creating a cocoon of perfect support.

Her head lolled back against the padded rest as the chair’s motions expanded to her entire body. Her feet were cradled in soft grooves, the rollers gently pressing and kneading her soles with an almost intuitive precision. Her calves were embraced by warm cushions that squeezed and released in a rhythmic pattern, encouraging her circulation to flow effortlessly. Her arms rested snugly in the grooves of the armrests, where subtle vibrations massaged her forearms, releasing the strain of holding microphones, signing autographs, and the countless gestures that filled her daily life.

As the chair worked, it seemed to choreograph its movements to a perfect rhythm. Her back, her neck, her shoulders—all were attended to with the same deliberate care. The rollers pressed firmly yet comfortingly into her shoulder blades, dissolving the knots that had taken root from hours of rehearsals. The soothing warmth emanating from the chair now felt like an extension of her own body heat, wrapping her in a sensation so familiar and comforting it bordered on intimate.

Her mind began to drift, each kneading motion drawing her further away from the chaos of her routine. She let out a soft, contented hum as the chair worked its way up to her neck. Here, the motions were slower, more deliberate, each gentle knead feeling like an eraser sweeping away not just physical tension but the weight of her thoughts. The fatigue that had been clinging to her mind for weeks began to evaporate, leaving behind a serene clarity.

As her eyes fluttered shut, a smile spread across her face, unbidden and pure. In the darkness behind her lids, she pictured Gaeul’s kind expression, her unnie’s ever-thoughtful gaze. The memory filled her heart with warmth, and a wave of gratitude washed over her.

“Thank you, unnie,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent, as though Gaeul might somehow hear her. It wasn’t just the chair she was thankful for—it was the care, the love, and the understanding behind the gesture.

The massage cycle continued, the rollers moving seamlessly back down her body. Her calves were squeezed gently, each motion precise and unhurried. Her feet were kneaded with soft pulses that released tension she hadn’t realized had built up. The chair seemed to know exactly where to focus, working in perfect synchrony with her body’s needs. By now, the warmth radiating through the cushions had synced with her own heat, creating a sensation that felt like an all-encompassing hug.

The low hum of the chair’s movements became a steady backdrop, blending with the quiet stillness of the apartment. Yujin’s thoughts grew lighter, her worries dissipating like smoke in the breeze. Every knead, every vibration, every wave of warmth carried her further into a cocoon of peace, until the outside world felt like a distant memory. Her breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the hypnotic rhythm of the chair’s motions.

As the final rollers worked their way back to her shoulders, pressing gently but firmly one last time, Yujin felt the last vestiges of tension dissolve. Her mind floated free, unburdened and light, cradled by the chair’s tender embrace. For the first time in weeks, she had found a moment to simply be—to exist without demands, without expectations.

Her lips curved into a smile, her chest filled with quiet joy. Gaeul’s gift wasn’t just an object; it was an escape, a sanctuary from the relentless demands of her life. As the chair continued its gentle rhythm, she let herself drift further into its embrace, surrendering to the pure, blissful calm that enveloped her.

Just as Yujin thought she had experienced the full range of the chair’s abilities, a subtle shift behind her head caught her attention. Something soft brushed against her nape, and she opened her eyes in surprise. Two rounded cushions extended smoothly from the headrest, their movement deliberate and precise, almost like the slow, purposeful gestures of a living being. They angled downward, adjusting with meticulous care until they rested gently against her chest, cupping her with a delicate firmness that made her pause.

The sensation was startling—unexpectedly intimate in a way that caught her off guard. Her breath hitched for a moment as she processed the feeling. It wasn’t what she had anticipated from a machine; the touch was warm, almost human, as though a pair of hands were there, offering comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. For a fleeting moment, hesitation crept in, but as the cushions began to apply a steady, rhythmic pressure, that hesitation melted away. The lifelike touch wasn’t invasive; it was soothing, reassuring. The chair seemed to understand her unspoken needs, its gentle persistence inviting her to trust it fully.

As Yujin exhaled, her body softened into the cushions’ embrace, her head tilting back to rest against the padded headrest. The rhythmic pressing and releasing felt like a pulse, a calming tempo that resonated through her chest. She could feel the tension unwinding there, knots she hadn’t even known existed slowly dissolving under the cushions’ steady care. Each rotation seemed to unravel another layer of stress, sending ripples of relaxation through her upper body. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, unbidden, as the cushions pressed a little lower, their focus shifting with seamless precision.

The sensation grew more enveloping, wrapping her chest in a comforting warmth that felt less like a machine and more like a gentle, heartfelt hug. It was deeply reassuring, the kind of embrace that coaxed her body into a profound state of bliss. Her shoulders eased further into the chair as the steady kneading rhythmically matched the rise and fall of her breathing, syncing with her as if it could sense her every exhale. There was nothing cold or mechanical about the touch—it felt deliberate, almost personal, like the chair was attuned to her, understanding her without the need for words.

Yujin let her eyelids flutter closed, surrendering to the hypnotic rhythm. The cushions pressed and released, their soft rotations creating waves of sensation that rolled through her chest, each one drawing her deeper into relaxation. Her heartbeat slowed, steadying itself to the same measured tempo as the cushions. She felt cradled, cocooned in a bubble of perfect calm, where even the faint hum of the chair blended into the background as a soothing melody.

“How could unnie keep this a secret?” she murmured softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. A small, lazy smile formed on her lips as the thought lingered. This wasn’t just a massage chair—it was a revelation, an experience so immersive and thoughtful that it felt tailored exclusively for her. Did Gaeul truly know how transformative, how utterly mesmerizing this would be? A faint blush warmed Yujin’s cheeks as the realization set in, but she was too relaxed to dwell on it.

The cushions continued their rhythmic dance, pressing firmly and retreating with perfect timing, guiding her breathing into an effortless flow. Her chest rose and fell in harmony with the chair’s movements, her muscles melting further with every rotation. Her body felt weightless, supported and nurtured, as though the chair was holding her in a gentle, unbreakable embrace. She allowed herself to sink deeper, letting go of any lingering reservations and surrendering entirely to the chair’s touch.

Time seemed to blur as Yujin drifted into a serene haze, her thoughts fading into the background. The steady motion of the cushions lulled her into a state of blissful stillness, her mind clear, her body completely open to the soothing sensations. It was more than physical relief—it was emotional. She felt a quiet gratitude blooming in her chest, a sense of appreciation for Gaeul’s thoughtfulness that filled her heart as warmly as the chair cradled her body.

As the cushions continued their gentle rotations, pressing and releasing in a hypnotic rhythm, Yujin found herself suspended in an oasis of tranquility she hadn’t realized she so desperately needed. It wasn’t just relaxation; it was liberation from the weight she carried, a sanctuary she had been gifted without asking. Smiling softly, she let herself drift further, enveloped in the chair’s warm embrace and the silent comfort of Gaeul’s kindness.

Yujin settled deeper into the chair’s embrace, her body slack and her mind adrift in the profound ease it provided. The tension that had gripped her muscles earlier was now a distant memory, unraveled by the chair’s expert touch. Yet, as comforting as the experience was, a small spark of curiosity stirred within her. She found herself wanting something more—something that might carry her further into this unexpected sanctuary of relaxation.

Her gaze drifted lazily over the glowing control panel. Among the familiar settings, her eyes caught on a small button she hadn’t noticed before. It was marked with a curious symbol, two delicate waves interlocking, their looping design imbued with an almost hypnotic allure. She tilted her head, studying it, the symbol tugging at her attention. The manual had mentioned “advanced features” in passing, but at the time, she hadn’t given it much thought. Now, under the chair’s warm, enveloping touch, the temptation to explore further grew stronger.

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to try…” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. Her finger hovered over the button, lingering for only a moment before pressing down with quiet resolve.

The chair responded immediately. The gentle hum beneath her deepened, shifting into a richer, resonant tone that seemed to pulse through the seat, low and steady, like a heartbeat. The vibrations slowed, their rhythm becoming more pronounced, as though the chair were focusing its energy with deliberate precision. The warmth she had felt earlier began to intensify, settling lower along her body. It pooled in her thighs, radiating outward in waves that pressed gently yet firmly against her bare skin.

Her breath hitched at the shift in sensation, her cheeks warming as she registered the chair’s unmistakably intimate touch. For a moment, she froze, caught off guard by the unexpected direction the experience had taken. The heat continued to pulse gently, the rhythm steady and inviting. Her initial instinct to pull back clashed with the growing curiosity that rooted her in place. Her body seemed to respond instinctively to the chair’s rhythm, the warmth stirring something low in her belly—a mixture of intrigue and an undeniable sense of ease.

The sensation deepened as the cushions at her chest began to adjust. Their movements, once soothing and general, became more focused and deliberate. The circular pads pressed down again, their slow, rhythmic rotations drawing her attention. They traced patterns against her chest, their touch precise yet comforting, synchronized with the deeper vibrations beneath her. Each rotation seemed purposeful, the soft pressure coaxing her body to relax even further.

A quiet gasp slipped from her lips as the cushions brushed over her more sensitive areas, the sensation sharper and more vivid than she had anticipated. The padding moved in deliberate, gentle circles, carefully calibrated to her body’s contours. It was as though the chair understood her needs without her having to articulate them, its touch intuitive and attuned to her most tense and tender places. Her breathing quickened, shallow at first, before evening out into a slower, deeper rhythm as the warmth in her chest grew, spreading outward in soft, languid waves.

“What kind of machine is this?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a breathy question carried away by the stillness of the room. The sensations were so precise, so deeply immersive, that they felt almost human—like an unseen presence was there, devoted entirely to her comfort. She considered sitting up, pulling away, but the thought felt distant, her body too deeply at ease to act on it. The warmth and pressure seeped into her muscles, leaving them soft and pliant, as if the chair was unraveling her layer by layer, coaxing her to let go completely.

Each time her thoughts turned to resisting, the chair seemed to adjust with uncanny accuracy, shifting its vibrations and kneading motions to draw her back in. The steady, deliberate rhythm became impossible to fight. It wrapped around her like a blanket, pressing against her body in all the right places, unrelenting yet gentle. The heat blooming in her chest flowed down to her core, spreading outward in a way that felt grounding, stabilizing, as though she were being gently tethered to the present moment.

Her mind wavered, caught between the fleeting impulse to pull away and the growing desire to surrender fully to the experience. Each motion of the chair seemed to whisper to her, coaxing her into deeper relaxation. The steady pulse of the cushions against her chest matched the rolling vibrations beneath her, creating a seamless, hypnotic rhythm. Her heartbeat slowed to match its tempo, her breaths coming in time with each press and release, each wave of warmth. The sensation was all-consuming, leaving her body weightless and her thoughts suspended in a tranquil haze.

As the chair worked with deliberate care, Yujin’s senses seemed to heighten and blur all at once. Her body melted further into the seat, yielding to the touch that had become impossible to resist. The chair held her in its expert embrace, each motion pulling her closer to a state of total calm. Her muscles softened completely, her worries dissipating like vapor, until all that remained was the comforting rhythm and the warmth cradling her from within.

With each passing moment, Yujin felt herself slipping further into the chair’s hold. The sensations, the warmth, and the steady rhythm wove together, creating a space of pure serenity. Letting go of the last threads of resistance, she allowed herself to be carried away, surrendering fully to the comfort enveloping her. Whatever this chair was—whatever Gaeul had seen in it—it was more than she could have imagined.

As the sensations intensified, Yujin’s body instinctively reacted, her hands moving to push herself up, to regain a sliver of control over the overwhelming experience. But just as she began to shift, something brushed against her wrists. The touch was startling—soft, silken, and almost weightless as it encircled her skin with a surprising swiftness. Her breath caught as she felt the delicate material wrapping around her, firm but gentle, holding her in place with a touch that seemed purposeful.

Startled, she glanced down, her wide eyes taking in the sight of thin, shimmering cords emerging from the sides of the chair. They looped gracefully around her wrists, binding them snugly to the armrests. The restraints didn’t bite into her skin; instead, they felt secure, almost comforting in their deliberate hold. Yujin tugged gently, testing their strength, but the cords tightened subtly in response, their pressure firm yet unyielding. The message was clear: escape was no longer an option.

“What… what is this?” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible over the low hum of the chair. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling as she tried to process the surreal sight. Bound by something so inanimate yet so undeniably purposeful, she felt an intimate vulnerability she hadn’t expected. The chair, once a comforting haven, now seemed to take on a persona of its own, as if it were in control of the moment. There was an undeniable thrill in the realization, her pulse quickening with the rush of emotions coursing through her.

Just as she tried to shift her legs, she felt the same silken sensation brush against her ankles. She froze as more cords emerged, looping deftly around her bare skin and pulling her legs firmly into place against the padded footrests. The bindings were seamless, their hold just as gentle yet unyielding as those around her wrists. Yujin tested them, her toes curling instinctively as the restraints held her firmly, leaving her utterly exposed.

The restraints heightened everything she felt, amplifying her awareness of the chair’s every motion. No longer able to shift or pull away, she was forced to surrender fully, her body completely exposed to its attentions. The vibrations beneath her thighs deepened, their rhythm deliberate and unrelenting. Each pulse resonated through her core, sending waves of warmth radiating outward. The sensation was electric, her skin alive with the intensity of the experience. She gasped softly, the heat within her building in time with the vibrations, every pulse driving deeper, leaving her breathless.

As her head tilted back against the chair, Yujin’s breathing hitched, her body responding involuntarily to the unrelenting sensations. The air around her grew heavier, and she caught the faint scent she hadn’t noticed before—a musky, intoxicating aroma that clung to her skin and seemed to saturate the space. Her cheeks flushed as she realized its source: her own arousal, exposed and undeniable in the stillness of the room.

The realization hit her like a wave, her body betraying her real feelings as the scent hung in the air, unmasking the truth she had been unwilling to face. Vulnerable and laid bare in every sense of the word, she shivered under the intensity of the chair’s embrace. The vibrations, the bindings, and the unmistakable scent of her arousal all converged into a singular, undeniable truth: she enjoyed this, even if she tried to deny it.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the chest cushions resumed their kneading motions. This time, their touch felt more focused, more precise. They pressed into her chest with slow, deliberate rotations, the pressure measured and exact. Each movement seemed to mirror the pulsing vibrations below, creating a synchronized rhythm that left her completely captivated. Her toes curled involuntarily as the cushions circled over her most sensitive areas, coaxing her body to respond. The sensations overlapped, layering upon one another in a way that left her overwhelmed and yet completely drawn in.

Bound and unable to escape, Yujin felt her breathing quicken again, each shallow gasp evidence of her growing sensitivity to the chair’s relentless rhythm. The cords at her the end of her limbs reminded her of her helplessness, holding her firmly in place, forcing her to remain still as the chair’s touch grew more intimate, more consuming. Each pulse, each knead, was magnified tenfold, pulling her deeper into the chair’s hold, making it impossible to think of anything but the sensations coursing through her.

Her body melted under the chair’s control, her muscles soft and pliant as warmth bloomed within her. The overlapping motions—the chest cushions, the pulsing vibrations, the heat radiating from beneath her—created a dizzying cycle of sensation that consumed her entirely. Yujin’s mind spun, caught between the impulse to resist and the growing pull to surrender fully. Despite the vulnerability she felt, or perhaps because of it, there was a strange exhilaration in the experience, an undeniable thrill that left her breathless and flushed.

Just as she thought the sensations couldn’t grow more intense, her instincts flared, urging her to stop the chair’s relentless rhythm. Gathering her strength, she strained against the bindings, her fingers fumbling to reach the glowing control panel. The angle was awkward, her movements clumsy, each effort only emphasizing her bound state. Her fingertip grazed the buttons, desperate to press the “Stop” command.

But in her haste, her finger slipped. Instead of ending the cycle, she accidentally pressed a smaller button beside the one she had activated earlier. The chair’s response was immediate. A deep, mechanical hum reverberated beneath her, the sound low and resonant, carrying a purposeful tone. Yujin froze as she felt something firm and warm pressing against her lower body. The sensation was unmistakable, and her eyes widened in shock.

Her breath hitched as she realized the source of the pressure. It was emerging from the slit she had earlier dismissed as a flaw. What she thought was a minor tear in the chair’s leather now revealed itself to be something far more deliberate. The object was firm, its warmth radiating through her in a way that left her stunned, her thoughts racing as the chair continued its relentless rhythm, pulling her deeper into its grasp.

She couldn’t see it, not from her seated position, but the sensation left no room for doubt: something firm and perfectly contoured pressed against her, aligning with a precision that felt unnervingly intentional. Her breath hitched, the air catching in her throat as a deep blush bloomed across her cheeks. Her mind raced, grappling with the surreal experience. “Wait… no…” she whispered, the words faint and trembling, as though she barely believed them herself.

Bound securely to the chair, she was powerless to move, the silken restraints holding her snugly against the chair. She tugged reflexively, testing the cords, but they responded with quiet firmness, keeping her in place. Unable to shift, unable to retreat, she was left entirely at the mercy of the chair’s calculated design. All she could do was feel—her senses heightening as the firm shape pressed forward, its slow, deliberate motion leaving her more aware of her vulnerability with each passing moment.

The object moved deeper, its progress unhurried and precise, as if it understood exactly what it was doing. Yujin’s breath stuttered, her body tensing as the sensation reached an unfamiliar height. A tremor coursed through her as her mind reeled, her awareness narrowing to the singular, startling sensation that resonated throughout her frame. She could feel every inch of its ascent, her body hyperaware of the slow, deliberate progress. The firm presence pressed upward with startling clarity, carving deeper than she thought possible.

Her muscles tightened instinctively as she felt it reach what she believed to be her absolute limit. Her breath hitched, her body trembling with the unfamiliar pressure. “That’s it,” she thought, her mind grasping at the certainty that there was no way it could go further. But just as her body began to adapt, the object ascended further, its movements precise and unrelenting.

The realization sent a jolt through her as it stretched her just a bit more, coaxing her to accommodate what she didn’t think she could. Her mind reeled, disbelief warring with the undeniable sensations. It knew her body better than she did, inching upward with unerring patience, measuring her capacity with mechanical certainty. Yujin’s breath shuddered, her skin prickling as warmth bloomed low in her abdomen, her body trembling as it yielded reluctantly to the measured intrusion.

Her bindings held her firmly in place, ensuring she had no choice but to endure every agonizingly precise moment. Each new height sent waves of sensation radiating through her, amplifying her awareness of just how much she could take. The object finally paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness, but her heart pounded as she realized it had stopped only to press just a fraction further, testing her once more.

As she sat motionless, her pulse quickened, and her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment. “I’ve never…” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though speaking the words might make the experience feel more real. Her heart pounded as she strained to process the sheer intensity of the moment, her thoughts flitting between disbelief and a growing sense of intrigue.

Just as her body began to adapt, the sensation shifted subtly. The firm presence pulsed faintly, its motion so slight that it felt almost teasing. Yujin’s eyes widened, her breath catching again as the feature seemed to expand with a slow, measured pressure. The gradual increase was slight at first, but every inch brought a new, undeniable awareness. Her muscles tightened instinctively, resisting the unfamiliar stretch, only to relax again as warmth radiated through her, coaxing her body to yield.

The sensation grew with excruciating precision, each incremental adjustment sending ripples of awareness through her. Her body strained to accommodate the increasing width, the warmth of the feature spreading outward, suffusing her limbs with a tingling, electric heat. She could feel the depth with startling clarity, every inch adding to the fullness that threatened to overwhelm her. The expansion felt unrelenting but controlled, a careful test of her limits that pushed her closer to the edge of what she could endure. Her breath grew shallow, each exhale trembling as she fought to adapt to the overwhelming fullness.

With each pause and subtle adjustment, the chair seemed to monitor her, its design attuned to her responses. The faint tremors in her breath, the tightening of her muscles—each reaction seemed to guide its movements, the expansion halting just shy of overwhelming her. The patience in its rhythm was undeniable, its unhurried persistence coaxing her body to surrender inch by inch.

When the feature finally stopped, its fullness left her breathless. Yujin sat still, completely attuned to the sensation, her body alive with awareness. Bound as she was, there was no escape from the intensity of the moment, no way to shift or adjust to ease the unfamiliar pressure. All she could do was feel—the depth, the warmth, the perfect precision with which the feature fit. Every nerve seemed alive, her senses attuned to the faintest shift, the gentlest vibration. Her thoughts blurred as the sensations consumed her, leaving her caught between astonishment and reluctant acceptance

And then, just as she thought she could adjust to the absurd fullness, the chair began a steady, rhythmic motion, drawing back towards her entrance only to push to the same depths as before, each motion precise, powerful, filling her completely. Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the chair’s meticulous design, every thrust magnified by her bound wrists and immobilized state. Every movement felt calculated, pushing, pressing, and filling with a rhythm that left her breathless.

Her earlier thoughts of resistance faded as her body surrendered fully, sinking deeper into the experience, lost to the rhythm that consumed her.

Bound in place, Yujin felt her breathing quicken as the chair’s movements intensified, every pulse and vibration perfectly tuned to her body’s responses. The object inside her moved with a steady rhythm, each thrust reaching that unprecedented depth, while the circular chest cushions rolled and tugged gently on her sensitive skin. The vibrations from the seat pulsed through her, each sensation building upon the last, working in perfect harmony to push her closer to the edge.

As the sensations mounted, she felt her muscles tighten, her mind struggling to keep pace with her body’s growing need. The depth of the toy filled her completely, leaving her no room to escape, no space to breathe. Each motion was slower than the last but powerful, deliberate, driving into her with a force that left her gasping, her body helpless against the precision of the chair’s movements.

“Oh… oh god…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her body arched, pressing back into the seat. The feature pushed deeper, reaching a place that left her stunned, every thrust brushing over spots she hadn’t realized were so sensitive. Her hands strained against the restraints, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips. “Oh… fuck…”

The intensity increased with each movement, her body straining as the chair continued its relentless rhythm. The chest cushions pressed in harder, rolling over her nipples, their rotations perfectly synchronized with the objects motion. Each press and pull of the cushions sent jolts of pleasure straight down to her core, leaving her trembling as her breathing grew shallow and her muscles began to tense in anticipation.

The vibrations beneath her pulsed faster, amplifying each thrust until her senses were engulfed by the heat and pressure building within her. “It’s… it’s so deep…” she gasped, her voice trembling as the feature pressed to her absolute limit, sending shockwaves of sensation through her.

The rhythm quickened, the sensations stacking on top of each other, drawing her ever closer. Her body began to react instinctively, muscles tightening as she lost herself to the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she thought she might catch her breath, the chair seemed to adjust, intensifying its movements, pushing her past what she thought she could handle.

“Oh… god, I…” she whimpered, her thoughts scattering, words slipping out as she felt herself approaching the brink. “I can’t… it’s too much…” But her body betrayed her, pressing deeper into the chair’s touch, her last defenses melting away as the chair’s unrelenting design left her no room to resist.

Her pulse raced as the attachment reached her limit, filling her completely, while the chest cushions tugged and rolled her nipples with unyielding precision. Every nerve was alive, each touch, each vibration pushing her further. The intensity was all-consuming, flooding her senses until she could think of nothing else, her entire body caught up in the inescapable rhythm that drove her steadily toward release.

“Oh…Fuck…” Yujin gasped, the words spilling from her lips before she could think. Her body tensed, every muscle tightening as she felt herself reaching a peak, the sensations overwhelming her with their intensity. Her vision blurred, her thoughts scattering as she teetered on the edge, a shudder coursing through her as she finally surrendered to the overwhelming flood of feeling. The release washed over her like a wave, her body arching instinctively as the crescendo of sensations surged through her.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her chest rising and falling as the last remnants of the moment ebbed away. The chair’s movements began to slow, its rhythm softening, the vibrations fading into gentle pulses that allowed her to catch her breath. The chest cushions loosened their grip, their kneading touch easing, as though the chair were guiding her back down from the intensity she had just experienced. Yujin slumped back into the seat, her limbs heavy, her mind hazy with exhaustion. The tension that had gripped her moments ago dissolved into a tranquil calm, leaving her utterly spent.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to sink into the stillness, her senses dulled, her mind adrift in the aftermath. The low hum of the chair became a soothing backdrop, its faint vibrations lulling her into a sense of peace. She assumed the experience had reached its end, her body basking in the quiet relief of calm.

But as her breathing slowed and her muscles began to relax, a calm, synthetic voice broke the silence.

Fluid capacity not reached. It stated evenly, the tone mechanical and indifferent.

Yujin’s eyes snapped open, her mind jolting into alertness as the words registered. Not reached? Her thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the statement, but before she could process it fully, the chair’s hum deepened. The vibrations beneath her intensified without warning, their strength catching her off guard. Her breath hitched as the sensations returned with a sudden, insistent force, the precision of the movements leaving no room for reprieve.

The chair seemed to come alive with renewed purpose, its rhythm more deliberate, each pulse stronger and more calculated than before. The feature within her resumed its motion, its presence undeniable as it moved with unrelenting precision. Each thrust pressed into her with a focus that pushed her limits, targeting areas already heightened and sensitive from the earlier experience. Yujin’s breath quickened, her body reacting instinctively to the machine’s persistence, her mind struggling to keep up with the intensity.

The seamless design of the chair continued its work, its movements perfectly synchronized to overwhelm her senses. She could feel every shift, every vibration, as the chair seemed to measure her responses, adapting its rhythm to ensure she couldn’t escape its hold. The experience became all-consuming, every sensation building upon the last, pulling her deeper into its relentless rhythm.

Her body, still quivering from her first climax, was instantly overwhelmed by the onslaught. “Wait… stop, oh fuck!” she gasped, her voice breaking as the feature pressed forward, deeper than it had before, ignoring the boundaries it had previously measured. She felt it push against her in a way that left her breathless, her entire form trembling as the pressure intensified. Her limbs strained against the restraints as she tried instinctively to move, but the chair held her completely still, its rhythm relentless.

“Oh god… please, stop…” she whimpered, but the chair showed no sign of slowing. The feature drove deeper, inch by inch, surpassing the limits it had mapped out before, testing her body’s capacity in a way that left her mind spinning. Each thrust seemed to stretch her in ways she hadn’t known possible, every sensation raw and amplified as the machine pushed her further.

The feature pulsed with a new, unrelenting rhythm, driving into her with a force that left her breathless. She gasped, her voice cracking, “No… wait, it’s… it’s too deep… fuck!” Her body instinctively tensed, her senses heightened as the pressure built within her, her nerves lighting up under the strain. Desperation took hold as she tried to lift her hips, arching away from the relentless ascent of the feature, but the chair seemed to read her like a book. The moment she shifted, it surged upward with calculated precision, matching her movements and pushing her further than she thought possible.

Her muscles tightened in protest as the depth became almost unbearable, her gasps turning into soft cries. The bindings around her wrists and ankles responded seamlessly, holding her firmly in place and preventing her from retreating. The relentless precision of the feature left her helpless, her body forced to meet every inch of its advance. Each adjustment, each movement seemed deliberately designed to draw her deeper into the sensation, leaving her trembling with the effort to endure it.

The vibrations intensified, pulsing faster, sharper, each one a shock to her overstimulated nerves. She felt herself slipping further, her breaths shallow, each thrust pressing her to her absolute limit. The relentless rhythm, the merciless depth—it all merged into one overwhelming sensation that left her gasping for air. “No, please… stop!” she cried out, but the machine gave no response, its synthetic indifference all too clear as it continued, unyielding.

The chest cushions returned, pressing firmly over her chest, the circular pads rolling and tugging her nipples with a fierceness that left her whimpering. Each pull was calculated, precise, dragging her deeper into the chair’s control as her sensitivity spiked. The combination was too much; her body felt trapped, bound in a cycle of unending sensation, each pulse, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of what she could endure.

As the device drove even deeper, a sudden surge of vibration coursed through it, adding an intensity that sent shockwaves through Yujin’s overstimulated body. Her head tilted back, a breathless gasp escaping her lips as the sensation mounted, leaving her helpless against the chair’s brutal rhythm. Every thrust felt precise, unrelenting, each movement pushing her closer to an edge she hadn’t known existed.

Control slipped away entirely, her senses overloaded by the relentless pace. Her body, raw and hypersensitive from the first climax, twitched with every pulse, fresh waves of pressure radiating through her. The rhythmic motion of the chair seemed inescapable, calculated, dragging her beyond her limits. She clenched her fists against the restraints, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her body teetered precariously on the brink of release once again.

The attachment surged with sharper movements, its upward thrusts forcing her to accommodate more. She tried to lift her hips, arching away from the overwhelming depth, but the chair was relentless. It responded as though reading her intentions, pressing further and holding her firmly in place, denying her any escape. The chest cushions tightened against her, the circular pads tugging at her nipples with a methodical precision that left her gasping for air.

The relentless rhythm worked in tandem with the vibrations below, targeting her most sensitive nerves. Each pulse drove into her, the sensations layering until every nerve felt exposed, raw, and alive. “I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking under the strain, the words tumbling out unbidden. Her hips strained instinctively, but the device refused to relent, the rhythmic ascension reaching depths she didn’t know she could endure. A heavy warmth bloomed deep within her, a pressure she couldn’t contain, spilling over into every inch of her body.

Her breathing grew erratic, her voice trembling as she choked out fragments of disbelief. “It’s too much…” she whispered, her words dissolving into breathy gasps. The device pulsed faster, its movements pushing her further into a space where sensation overtook thought. Heat spread like a fire through her limbs, pooling low as her body arched reflexively, caught in the machine’s relentless control.

The vibrations below seemed to sync perfectly with the rolling pressure on her chest, drawing her sensitivity to a dizzying peak. Her mind blanked, her body responding with a vulnerability she couldn’t suppress. The sensation of fullness became all-encompassing, a rhythmic wave cresting deep within her. She felt the tension building, a powerful swell that left her trembling. “It’s… happening… oh…” she stammered, her voice barely audible as the climax surged through her.

In the instant of release, the sensations reached their crescendo, the chair driving her to a shattering peak. A sudden, warm rush overtook her, unrestrained and unanticipated. The liquid sensation cascaded down her thighs in slow, deliberate streams, the unexpected release leaving her breathless and stunned. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body responded instinctively, her awareness overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensations.

“Oh… my god…” she murmured, her voice trembling as the aftermath left her quaking. The warmth traced a path down her skin, a physical reminder of the vulnerability of the moment. Each pulse from the chair amplified the rawness she felt, leaving her suspended in the quiet, electric stillness. Her mind reeled, struggling to grasp the depth of what she’d just experienced. “I… can’t believe it…” she breathed, her cheeks burning as she lay motionless, entirely exposed to her own release.

The rhythmic hum of the chair softened, its motions slowing as though recognizing her limits. The attachment eased, withdrawing as Yujin’s breathing remained uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her limbs felt heavy, her mind hazy, the echoes of sensation still pulsing faintly through her body. The quiet aftermath enveloped her, the room thick with stillness as she basked in the overwhelming intimacy of the experience.

Then, the silence was broken by a calm, synthetic voice that cut through the haze.

Fluid capacity reached, it announced smoothly, its tone measured and indifferent.

The words hung in the air for a moment, their stark neutrality a strange contrast to the intensity Yujin had just experienced. As the chair’s movements slowed further, the vibrations beneath her eased into a soft, barely perceptible hum. The hidden feature retracted gently, its motion precise and unhurried, leaving her body to settle into stillness.

Her limbs were released as the silken restraints retreated into the chair, their hold disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared. For the first time in what felt like hours, Yujin’s arms fell freely to her sides, her hands brushing lightly against the smooth leather of the chair. She slumped back, her body sinking into the seat, utterly spent. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive, as her breathing slowed and steadied in the soft silence that enveloped the room.

Her mind remained adrift, hovering somewhere between disbelief and quiet awe. The chair, now still, seemed to cradle her with a newfound gentleness, its presence less commanding, more like a silent guardian allowing her to recover. In the quiet aftermath, Yujin could feel the echoes of the experience lingering in her body, her senses heightened, her thoughts distant. The world outside her apartment seemed impossibly far away as she lay there, her body and mind consumed by the memory of what had just unfolded.

Exhausted yet glowing from the intensity of the experience, Yujin lay still, her body basking in the lingering warmth. A faint smile tugged at her lips as her chest rose and fell in steady, calming breaths. The moment felt surreal, the sensations still imprinted on her skin, her muscles tingling with the aftereffects. Every part of her felt both weightless and grounded, as if the chair had unraveled not just her physical tension but the unseen burdens she had carried.

The chair’s steady hum, which had seemed so commanding moments ago, finally faded into silence. She exhaled a long, trembling sigh, letting her head fall back against the soft headrest. Slowly, the silken restraints around her wrists loosened and retracted into the armrests, freeing her from their gentle grip. She flexed her fingers, feeling the return of her movement, though she made no effort to rise. Instead, she sank deeper into the chair, savoring the quiet that enveloped her and the profound sense of calm radiating through her body.

Her gaze drifted toward the control panel, now illuminated and unobstructed, glowing softly in the dim light of the room. The warmth of the chair still cradled her, its presence comforting and steady. As her fingers reached for the panel, her touch was deliberate but light, her body still heavy with the afterglow. A small digital prompt caught her eye: “Session Complete. Save Profile?”

Curiosity flickered through her, cutting through her lingering exhaustion. Without much thought, she tapped the screen, her fingers brushing lightly over the display. The prompt changed instantly, confirming the save under her name. Yujin smiled faintly, imagining how convenient it would be to return to this exact setting in the future.

But as the screen updated, something else appeared—a second profile listed just beneath hers. The name on the screen made her breath catch in her throat: Kim Gaeul.

Yujin’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at the unassuming text. Her unnie’s name sat there plainly, as if it had been waiting for her all along. She blinked, a ripple of intrigue spreading through her as the implications settled in. “Unnie’s profile?” she murmured, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. The discovery was unexpected, and yet it sent a quiet thrill coursing through her.

Her fingers hovered over Gaeul’s name, hesitating for just a moment before tapping it. The screen flickered, and a detailed list of settings unfolded before her. With each line, her eyes widened, her pulse quickening as she took in the descriptions.

Heat: Wax simulation.The words stopped her cold, her breath catching in her throat. Yujin hadn’t realized the chair could simulate such sensations, let alone that Gaeul would have chosen it. She pictured the sensation, the warm, teasing precision of wax, and felt a flush creep across her cheeks. The thought of her unnie exploring something so daring sparked a mix of surprise and intrigue. Gaeul, bold and composed as ever, had used this chair for more than just relaxation.

Size: Length 11 inches, width 3 inches.Yujin blinked, her face growing warmer as she read the numbers. Her own session had felt overwhelming, and yet Gaeul had opted for settings far more intense, far more challenging. The audacity of it left Yujin momentarily stunned, her mind racing as she tried to imagine her unnie embracing something so extreme. A faint shiver ran through her as her curiosity deepened, the idea stirring a quiet but persistent flicker of warmth low in her belly.

Vibrations: Max.A soft laugh escaped her lips, incredulous and tinged with awe. She had barely endured the chair’s standard settings, yet Gaeul had chosen the highest possible intensity. The thought sent a ripple of admiration through Yujin, mingling with a sense of disbelief. Her unnie’s boldness seemed boundless, and Yujin couldn’t help but wonder what it had felt like—what Gaeul had experienced in the chair’s unrelenting embrace.

Texture: Ribbed.Her breath hitched as her eyes scanned the words, her imagination immediately conjuring the sensation. The thought of ridges dragging against her overstimulated body made her stomach flip, her cheeks burning brighter as she shifted slightly in her seat. The deliberate pressure and tactile detail the texture promised left her wide-eyed, her lips parting as a soft exhale escaped her. Gaeul’s choices weren’t just bold—they were designed for an intensity Yujin hadn’t dared to consider.

Clitoral focus: Targeted stimulation.The line of text felt stark, almost clinical, but its meaning hit her like a wave. Her thighs tensed reflexively as she imagined the precise, unrelenting pressure this setting would deliver. The thought left her both apprehensive and intrigued, the memory of her body’s hypersensitivity flashing through her mind. “Unnie really… tried all this?” she murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Her gaze moved down the list, catching on the next line.

Breast stimulation: Spanking mode.Yujin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing a deep pink as her breath hitched. She hadn’t even noticed this option during her own session, and its revelation left her momentarily speechless. The idea of Gaeul, composed and unflinching, choosing such a provocative setting sent a cascade of emotions through Yujin—shock, intrigue, and a hesitant thrill. Gaeul’s choices hinted at a side of her unnie that Yujin had never considered—a side that was uninhibited and unapologetic.

Double Penetration.Yujin froze, her heart racing as she processed the words. The chair could accommodate such a complex configuration, and Gaeul had chosen it. The implications left Yujin flushed, her thoughts swirling as she imagined the experience, the unrelenting intensity of it. Her mind raced with questions: What had Gaeul felt? What had she thought? Her unnie’s confidence and boldness seemed almost unfathomable, and yet it made Yujin’s pulse quicken.

Her fingers hovered over the option to begin the profile, her chest rising and falling as the room seemed to close in around her. The AI’s synthetic voice interrupted the silence, calm and steady:

“Profile of Kim Gaeul. Would you like to begin?”

The question sent a shiver through Yujin, her senses attuned to the chair’s warmth beneath her. The mere idea of following in her footsteps, of stepping into her unnie’s world, left Yujin breathless. The chair seemed to hold its own quiet intensity now, as though Gaeul’s presence lingered within it, beckoning her to experience everything as she had.

For a moment, Yujin simply sat there, her heart pounding, her body tingling as she considered the choice before her. A small, unsteady smile played on her lips, her breath quickening despite the exhaustion pooling in her limbs. The glowing screen before her seemed to pulse with an inviting warmth, urging her to explore every sensation her unnie had so carefully crafted. Even after everything she had just been through, the allure of experiencing what Gaeul had designed was undeniable. Her mind buzzed with a mix of curiosity, nervous anticipation, and a lingering heat that she couldn’t entirely shake.

The chair, its quiet hum now silent, seemed to watch her in waiting. The faint ache in her muscles from the previous session only added to the surreal allure of the moment, a reminder of the intensity she’d just endured. Yet, against that fatigue, her curiosity burned brighter.

Taking a shaky breath, she tapped Yes

The AI’s calm, detached voice broke the silence: “Profile of Kim Gaeul. Initiating session.”

The chair hummed to life with a low, resonant vibration that seemed to echo in her chest. The sound was deep, almost hypnotic, and carried a weight that seemed to coil inside her. Slowly, the seat tilted backward, cradling her body as it reclined further than before. The movement left her startlingly exposed, her limbs slack against the armrests as the leather adjusted to her frame with a disarming intimacy.

A wave of warmth began low on her spine, rolling outward in deliberate pulses that seemed to seep into her muscles. It was subtle at first, almost teasing, but the intensity built with each passing second, spreading along her skin like molten wax.

Heat: Wax simulation. The words came calm and detached, breaking the silence like a command, just as the warmth settled deeper, teasing her nerves and pulling a faint gasp from her lips.

Yujin’s breath hitched. The warmth wasn’t just heat—it carried weight, a tactile presence that seemed to knead her muscles as it crept lower, flowing down her thighs and curling around her hips. Her muscles fluttered involuntarily as the sensation radiated upward, unfurling across her chest. She bit her lip, her head pressing back into the chair as the sensation deepened.

“It’s so… warm,” she whispered, her voice tinged with awe and disbelief. “Oh god, it feels like it’s everywhere…”

The pulses grew sharper, each one drawing her body further into submission. Her skin flushed as the heat nestled deeper into her muscles, coaxing her tension away even as her heart raced faster. It was intimate, calculated, every ripple designed to tease her in ways she couldn’t ignore. A soft moan escaped her lips as the heat lingered, her body reacting instinctively to the deliberate precision of the sensation.

Without warning, the vibrations surged to life, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze of heat. The chair’s mechanisms adjusted seamlessly, delivering powerful pulses that hummed deeply into her.

Vibrations: Max. The clinical voice contrasted starkly with the visceral reaction wracking her body, as though indifferent to the way her body jolted against the force.

The vibrations seemed to wrap around her, their intensity rolling through her in rhythmic waves. They blended with the lingering warmth, amplifying the sensation until her entire frame felt alive with electric energy. Her hands curled against the armrests, her breath shallow as the relentless hum sent shockwaves through her body.

“It’s so much,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she struggled to process the overlapping sensations. “I can’t—oh, I can’t…”

The pulses climbed higher, sharper, targeting every inch of her with unrelenting precision. Each wave sank deeper, teasing her nerves into a maddening crescendo.

A new sensation jolted her. Without warning, a delicate pressure closed around her clit. Yujin yelped, her hips jerking as two small prongs adjusted to sit snugly against her most sensitive spot. They pinched lightly, just enough to make her gasp, before beginning a rhythmic vibration that was sharp and devastatingly precise.

Clitoral focus: Activated. The voice followed as though commenting on her quivering form, the prongs already driving her sensitivity to the brink.

The targeted stimulation sent sparks through her body with each relentless pulse. Yujin squirmed in place, her thighs trembling as the dual sensations built rapidly. The subtle pinch added an edge she hadn’t anticipated, heightening every hum and vibration until she could barely breathe.

“Oh… oh god,” she stammered, her voice breaking into shallow gasps. The vibrating prongs seemed to sense her sensitivity, alternating between steady pulses and teasing pauses that left her whimpering.

The sharp, rhythmic taps of the chest cushions came next, catching her off-guard and dragging her deeper into the chair’s grip. Each strike landed with calculated force, perfectly in time with the vibrations below.

Breast stimulation: Spanking mode. The phrase lingered in the air, both clinical and provocative, as if the chair itself reveled in her reactions.

Yujin whimpered, her chest heaving as the alternating taps struck her in perfect rhythm with the vibrations below. The sharp stings jolted her senses, contrasting starkly with the warmth and hum that had engulfed her moments before. She gasped as the taps shifted, alternating between quick bursts and deliberate pauses, leaving her body quivering with anticipation.

“Why does it feel so—ah!—so good…” she managed, her voice breaking into a moan. The rhythm built unpredictably, each strike sending a rush of heat through her chest that traveled downward, syncing with the relentless vibrations.

Before she could process the overwhelming stimulation, something firm pressed against her, unyielding and deliberate. The chair’s mechanisms shifted again, and the feature advanced slowly, pushing deeper inch by inch.

Double penetration. Size: Length 11 inches, width 3 inches, ribbed texture. The voice was even and unflinching, delivering the details as though narrating its own meticulous work.

The ridged surfaces dragged deliberately against her walls as the feature moved, each textured inch teasing her nerves and leaving her breathless. The combination of fullness and texture was maddening, each ridge catching against her hypersensitive body as if designed to drive her over the edge.

Yujin’s trembling hand moved instinctively to her belly, brushing against her taut skin. She froze, her fingers trembling as they met the faint bulge pressing outward. Her eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her chest heaved. The realization of just how deeply the chair had claimed her sent a flush of heat spiraling through her.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. “I… I can feel it—everything. It’s too much…unnie how do you do it?”

The dual features pressed deeper inside her, their ridged surfaces dragging against her in maddening synchrony. The vibrations grew sharper, blending with the relentless rhythm as her body yielded inch by inch. Her legs quivered, her toes curling instinctively as the fullness swelled inside her.

The clitoral prongs pulsed again, sharper now, sending shocks through her core that made her cry out. Her body arched helplessly as every sensation layered into an unrelenting symphony. Despite the overwhelming onslaught, there was a part of her—a small but undeniable part—that leaned into it. The intensity blurred the edges of her thoughts, pulling her deeper into the consuming waves. Her gasps came unbidden, her lips parting to release a soft moan, as much from pleasure as from the crushing force of the sensations.

The settings merged seamlessly, each feeding into the next to bring her to the brink again and again. The ribbed texture dragged deliberately against her, each ridge sparking jolts of unbearable sensitivity through her body. The vibrating prongs on her clit teased mercilessly, the sharp pinch heightening every pulse that coursed through her. The spanking pads struck her chest rhythmically, their sharp, stinging taps blending with the lingering heat of the wax simulation that clung to her skin like molten silk.

It was too much—her body barely had time to adjust to one sensation before another surged to the forefront. And yet, as overwhelming as it was, it wasn’t pain; it wasn’t torment. Her body responded with raw, instinctive fervor, trembling and tightening as it gave itself over to the overwhelming bliss. Every tap, every pulse, every thrust of the ridged surfaces filled her with an almost unbearable euphoria that she couldn’t deny.

The fullness stretched her impossibly, the ridges teasing her with deliberate precision, while the warmth radiated outward, softening her resistance. The vibrations at her core rippled through her entire frame, blending seamlessly with the targeted pulses on her clit. Her mind spun with the chaos of it all, but her body betrayed her, leaning into the rhythm, craving more even as her trembling thighs threatened to give out.

Her body arched instinctively, her breath catching as the rhythm tightened, faster and more deliberate, pulling her toward the peak with relentless determination. The heat, the sharp taps, the ridged texture—they layered together, each sensation feeding into the next, creating an unrelenting cycle of pleasure that left her trembling and helpless.

“Oh… oh god… I can’t—” she gasped, her voice breaking into a strangled moan. The overwhelming symphony of sensations blurred the lines between pain and pleasure, leaving her lost in the chaos. And yet, as her head tilted back and her lips parted, her cries took on a note of desperate, unabashed need. She was being consumed, but somewhere deep inside, she didn’t want it to stop.

Her body quivered violently, her thighs shaking as the intensity built to an impossible crescendo. The climax approached rapidly, her hypersensitive body teetering on the edge, unable to resist the relentless onslaught. The fullness inside her surged deeper, the ridged texture scraping perfectly against every nerve it touched, while the prongs on her clit pinched and pulsed in a final, devastating rhythm. Her fingers clawed at the armrests, knuckles pale and trembling as she braced herself, her entire body taut with anticipation, the wave of sensation poised to crash over her.

And then it shattered.

The climax ripped through her with unrelenting force, her body seizing violently as the release consumed her. Her back arched sharply, her breath caught in a ragged, desperate cry that broke into gasping moans as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. The fullness, the heat, the stinging taps, the relentless vibrations—all of it collided into a single, overwhelming surge that obliterated her senses, leaving her utterly undone.

Her cries echoed in the room, raw and unrestrained, as her body shook with the force of her release. Her hands tightened around the armrests, her legs trembling as the relentless rhythm prolonged the peak, drawing every ounce of sensation from her trembling form. The waves began to ebb slowly, leaving her chest heaving as her gasps turned to shallow, broken breaths.

Her body sagged into the chair, her muscles slackening as the aftershocks flickered faintly through her. Every inch of her was hypersensitive, her nerves alive with the echoes of what had just consumed her. Her mind swam in the haze, her thoughts incoherent as her body quivered in the chair’s unyielding embrace.

Just as she thought the chair might relent, the voice cut through the haze, calm and clinical:

Fluid capacity not reached.

The words were punctuated by an immediate escalation. The vibrations intensified, deeper and sharper, the ridged textures dragging mercilessly against her hypersensitive body with mechanical precision. Yujin gasped sharply, her head rolling back as the chair resumed its relentless rhythm. The heat surged again, radiating through her body like molten fire, coaxing every nerve back to life despite her exhaustion. Her muscles twitched involuntarily, her body caught in the unyielding rhythm that refused to stop.

The fullness returned, pressing impossibly deeper, stretching her with ruthless precision. The ridges scraped against her overstimulated walls, igniting sparks of sensation that left her trembling violently. The vibrations pulsed in perfect sync, their overlapping waves building into an unbearable crescendo. Yujin whimpered, her fingers twitching weakly against the armrests as she was forced to endure the escalating pressure.

Her breath hitched sharply as the rhythm quickened, the chair driving her closer and closer to another peak. The sensations surged with a force that eclipsed the first, each calculated motion dragging her higher. Her body arched instinctively, her thighs trembling as the vibrations intensified, the sharp pulses and searing heat blending into an all-encompassing storm.

The second peak loomed suddenly, massive and all-consuming. Her lips parted in a soundless cry as the sensations crested, the relentless rhythm pushing her closer to the breaking point. Her mind spiraled, thoughts dissolving into incoherent haze as her body convulsed. The climax broke over her like a tidal wave, wrenching a strangled moan from her lips as her back arched violently. The fullness inside her swelled impossibly, every nerve ignited in a final, explosive release.

But it didn’t stop.

The sensations refused to relent, their intensity crashing over her without mercy. Yujin’s body bucked helplessly against the chair, her hands clawing at the armrests as her breath came in frantic, shallow bursts. Her vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into a haze of swirling lights. The vibrations became muffled, distant, as though her ears were submerged underwater.

Her pulse thundered in her head, drowning out everything else. Even the heat—the unyielding molten fire radiating across her skin—faded into numbness as her body reached its absolute limit. Her legs quivered uncontrollably, her chest heaving as her muscles spasmed one final time. The prongs on her clit delivered one last, devastating pulse, sending a jolt through her body that shattered the remnants of her awareness.

Her head snapped back against the chair, her mouth falling open in a blood-curdling scream that tore through the room before cutting off abruptly. Her entire body stiffened for a single, agonizing moment before collapsing entirely, her limbs falling limp against the chair.

Her breathing slowed, uneven and shallow, her lips parting in a final, trembling gasp as the overwhelming sensations consumed her. A wave of darkness descended, muffling everything—the vibrations, the heat, the ridges, the rhythm—until she felt nothing at all.

Yujin went completely limp, her body unresponsive in the chair’s relentless grip.

The AI’s voice returned, calm and clinical, cutting through the oppressive silence:

User unresponsive. Warming protocol initiated.

The chair’s mechanisms halted immediately, its relentless rhythm ceasing with mechanical precision. The features began to retract, their motions slow and deliberate, withdrawing carefully to avoid disturbing her limp form. The leather cushions shifted, adjusting to cradle her unconscious body with meticulous care.

Then, the warmth began. A soothing heat radiated from the cushions, spreading across her skin in slow, undulating waves. The earlier intensity was gone, replaced by a tender embrace that coaxed her muscles into relaxation. The chair’s presence, once commanding and overwhelming, softened into something protective, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort.

Yujin’s chest rose and fell faintly, her breathing shallow but steady. Her body trembled softly with the residual echoes of sensation, her skin flushed as the warmth soaked into her muscles. The control panel’s glow dimmed, its light fading to darkness as the room settled into stillness.

The AI’s voice did not return, its task complete for now. The chair hummed quietly, its mechanisms reduced to a faint purr as it stood sentinel over her unconscious form. The relentless force that had pushed her to her limits had vanished, replaced by a serene and protective presence. In the quiet, Yujin lay utterly still, cocooned in warmth and care as the session reached its tranquil conclusion.

The room fell into complete silence, save for the faint, rhythmic hum of the chair’s dormant systems. The stillness was heavy, blanketing the space in an almost ethereal calm. Yujin remained motionless, her body surrendered entirely to the chair’s protective embrace. Her chest rose and fell faintly, her breathing a soft whisper in the air, her flushed skin glowing dimly in the muted light.

Her hair was a wild, tangled mess, damp strands clinging to her forehead and cheeks, a testament to the intensity she had endured. Smudged makeup streaked down her face, dark trails of mascara tracing the paths of the tears that had streamed from her eyes. Her lips, parted slightly, were swollen from the gasps and cries that had torn through her. The soft lighting cast shadows over her features, accentuating the exhaustion etched into her expression—a mix of raw vulnerability and complete surrender.

Her body trembled faintly, her muscles slackened but still quivering with residual aftershocks. Her folds were flushed, the delicate skin red and sensitive from the unrelenting stimulation. A pronounced sheen of arousal still glistened on her inner thighs, the aftermath of a storm that had left her utterly spent. The chair’s earlier precision left her backdoor gaped, the stretched opening a reminder of the fullness that had overwhelmed her.

The scent of her arousal lingered in the air, thick and undeniable, mingling with the faint warmth radiating from the chair. It clung to the stillness like a ghost of the storm that had subsided, saturating the quiet space with a lingering intimacy that was almost tangible.

The faint aroma of the instant noodles she had prepared earlier, once warm and savory, had been completely overpowered. What remained now was raw, primal—a potent reminder of the intensity that had unfolded. It dominated the air, overwhelming the earlier comfort of her small meal with the undeniable mark of her surrender.

The chair’s hum softened even further, its purring vibration fading into near silence, as if giving her space to recover. The leather adjusted beneath her, shifting delicately to cradle her limp form more closely. It held her without force, a silent sentinel watching over her slackened body.

The atmosphere felt heavy yet serene, charged with the echoes of what had transpired. Yujin lay utterly still, her body utterly spent, her mind adrift in a haze far from the quiet room. The world beyond continued on, oblivious to the storm that had raged within these walls. But here, time seemed suspended, as though the room itself held its breath.

And then, the stillness was broken.

A faint buzzing sound cut through the quiet, low at first, then insistent. Yujin’s phone, discarded on a nearby table, vibrated over and over, the glow of the screen casting faint pulses of light in the darkened room. The name flashing across the display was unmistakable: Gaeul Unnie.

The phone continued to buzz, the sound blending with the faint hum of the chair. The rhythm of the vibrations felt deliberate, persistent, as though demanding her attention even in her unconscious state. The air seemed to shift subtly, the charged stillness giving way to something else—anticipation.

And yet, Yujin remained unmoving, her body cocooned in warmth, unaware of the calls that continued, unanswered, as the room watched silently over her.

[frankenkyle19]

Unsupervised Tablet Time

Description: Kyle is on his tablet late at night. He somehow managed to get onto a porn sight, and found himself with a hard on. But you’d help him right? The only problem was? You were asleep

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, a bit of a crazed Kyle at one point, he makes the reader touch him while she’s sleeping (or so he thinks, she’s not actually asleep), Kyle crying, tooth rotting fluff. (I didn’t mean to make this as fluffy as I did, but it’s Kyle and I couldn’t resist)

word count: 3k (woooo, I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever written)

Realistically it wasn’t his fault that he stumbled across porn while watching videos on his tablet. All it took was one click, one link and bam. 

He was sucked in. Completely enthralled. Eyes wide as he watched the two people move on screen, their noises muffled in his headphones as he watched, completely entranced. The way their bodies move against each other as the man rutted against the woman, thrusting into her at a harsh, unrelenting pace. Kyle had been so mesmerized by the video that he barely noticed the way his cock twitched in his pants, begging for some kind of relief.

He did finally realize though when he shifted from his criss cross applesauce position to relax more against the bed and his thigh brushed against his erection. He paused, blinking in confused curiosity as he carefully poked at his groin with his pointer finger. The sounds that were playing right into Kyle’s ears weren’t at all helping the situation. From the sound of slapping skin to the moans the girl was letting off. It sparked something inside him. 

He pawed at his clothed cock with a clumsy hand, a quiet, surprised groan coming from his lips. That felt good. But not enough. He needed more. More more more. 

Still though, it was late at night and he knew everyone was asleep, and even though he didn’t quite understand, he figured this isn't something you did around everyone. Even in his hazed state, he knew that he didn’t want to get caught. Maybe he should just go back to watching videos. 

He turned his attention back to the tablet, frowning as he saw the video had ended, but soon enough a bunch more popped up in recommendation and he clicked on one of them, excitedly watching, eyes flicking across the screen as the video loaded.

It started out with a woman lying across a bed, stark naked. She began touching herself and Kyle mewled, reaching out and touching the screen in a desperate attempt to touch the woman. He groaned in frustration at his failed attempt, eyebrows furrowed at the growing pressure in his pants that was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

His eyes were laser focused on the girl's cunt, his tongue lolling from his mouth again. He longed to bury his face between her thighs. It was like an instinct. Or a memory…He wasn’t sure.

Soon enough there was a bit more action on the screen, a man crawling on top of her as they began to passionately make out. Kyle copied the movements of their lips, looking as if he was kissing air, which looked quite odd if anywhere were to walk in the room. He was so curious about anything and everything. Maybe a little too much at times.

It got heated fast, and Kyle’s brain struggled to keep up. The camera panned to a different angle, a closer one. The man stroked his cock a few times before lining it up with the woman’s entrance, carefully pushing it into her. It was as if Kyle was the one shoving his cock into someone’s warm heat by the way he reacted. He let out a groan, hand flying to his pants as he squeezed his dick, possibly too hard. He didn’t like his hands. Didn’t like his touch. He was too clumsy. He needed something else and he was growing frustrated.

His tablet and headphones were soon abandoned on his bed as he stood up, very determined now to get some relief. He found a lot of comfort in you, so surely you would make him feel better, right? He had no clue that he could just take care of his ‘little’ issue himself. You did everything for him, so obviously you could do this too.

So he made his way to your room, creeping as carefully as his clumsily coordinated body could. He closed the door behind him, having some sense to be quiet and not to wake the others. When he found you asleep he frowned. He didn’t want to wake you, but at the same time he needed your help so bad. 

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, mouth drawn down into a pout as he thought long and hard about what he should do. He finally couldn’t stand it any longer and crawled up the bed beside you, being as quiet as possible, eyes widening every time the bed creaked. He reached under the covers for your hand and gently pulled it out, holding it in his own for a second. You were so warm. So much warmer than Kyle’s undead body, and your touch held so much comfort.

He carefully brought your hand down to the bulge in his pants, letting it rest there as he bucked up against it. A breathy whine slipped from his chapped lips as he blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he ground his hips up against your hand. 

Once he saw that you weren’t stirring, he got a bit bolder, trying to find a way to maneuver your hand into his pants, and much to his dismay, was unable to do so. He continued to grind against your hand, cock heavy and throbbing under the confines of his sweats and boxers. He scooted away from you a bit to try and slip his pants off clumsily, clunky hands grabbing at the waistband with a heavy grunt.

Little did Kyle know you’d woken quite a bit ago. Really the moment he sat on your bed, you just pretended to be asleep to see what he would do. To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Your sweet, innocent Kyle grinding desperately against your hand in the middle of the night? While he thought you were asleep?

Your face was covered in a bright pink blush, but luckily the darkness of the room hid it from view. Not that he’d really suspect anything if he saw it anyways. The poor boy was a bit clueless. 

You felt him shifting beside you, trying to shimmy out of his pants and you wanted to turn and face him, to press a kiss to his cold, but sweet undead lips. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like this before.

You nearly shouted in surprise as his broad arms wrapped around your frame, snuggling up beside your back, his now naked lower half resting against the curve of your ass. He grumbled something that you couldn’t understand before he began to carefully grind against you.

Your breathing picked up and you knew you only had two choices.

Stay here and let him get off like this 

Help him 

And how could you not help him? Still, you decided to wait a few more moments, because his desperate actions amused you just a bit. 

It was when he buried his face against the crook of your neck and began to nip at the skin, your breath hitched. 

“Mmmm-“ he groaned against your ear, unaware that the proximity and his volume could wake you, because he also wasn’t aware that you already were awake. Just sitting and biding your time.

He rutted a few more times against your ass before biting down particularly hard against your shoulder, surely leaving marks.

You couldn’t help but wince, shooting up into a sitting position which startled Kyle. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, slowly blinking as he tried his best to gauge your reaction. He seemed to tense, waiting for some sort of reprimanding, or even a slap. But neither came, and he relaxed a bit, his worried expression morphing into that same look of need and desperation. 

You gave him a gentle smile, carefully reaching out to cup his cheek. “Oh baby, what happened to get you so worked up?” You asked, although you knew he probably couldn’t find a way to respond. He huffed, eyebrows furrowing once more as his lips turned into a pout. He so badly wanted to talk to you. To really be able to explain, but he just couldn’t, and it drove him to near insanity.

He leaned his cheek into your touch, much like a puppy rubbing up against a person for affection. You let your other hand reach up to brush through his beautiful blond curls, a quiet content sigh falling from his slightly parted lips. 

He grew fidgety once more, moving around to try and get comfortable and that’s when you realized that his little issue wasn’t just going to resolve itself. He needed to find a way to take care of it, and by the looks of things, it seemed like you needed to help him. 

“Kyle, I’m going to help you, okay?” You said slowly and clearly, making sure he understood you before you continued.

He perked up instantly, eyes wide and full of anticipation for what was to come. More of you. More of your touch. More more more. Help. You were going to help him.

He followed your lead as you laid him back on the bed, his limbs like deadweight as you tried to position him in the way you wanted. He tried his best to help you, always having to concentrate extra hard to move certain parts of his body. It had to do with his mind and body connection, something that had been severely damaged when he was brought back. 

Once you had successfully positioned him on the bed, arms laid out at his sides and his thighs open wide, you smiled, looking down at him. He was only wearing his dark blue t-shirt, bottom half naked and quivering a bit. His body was in constant motion, never really being able to be fully still. It was always either his hands, or his legs… maybe his face, but it was guaranteed that some part of him was always in motion.

“Okay, I’m going to help you now, if you want me to stop… if you aren’t liking it, I’ll stop. You just have to use your words, okay?” He nodded with a smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks and you so badly just wanted to pinch them.

Settling in between his thighs, your hands dragged across his legs, getting him used to your touch and not just jumping right into jerking him off, not wanting to overwhelm him and potentially get a bad reaction out of him. You always had to take things slow with Kyle.

With an almost feather light touch, you carefully traced the head of his cock with your pointer finger, humming softly as you glanced up at him to see what his expression would be, truly having no idea how he’d react.

Instantly his legs were trying to buck up into the touch, wanting more. Needing more. God he needed so much more of you. All of you. 

With a thick, garbled groan, he looked at you with pleading eyes, urging you to go on. To do more.

And you did just that. You gingerly wrapped your hand around his hard, leaking cock, being careful not to squeeze too much and startle him. You wanted to slowly introduce him to the pleasure and be able to build it up if he did want more.

Kyle, for the first time since he’d come back to life, felt hot. His body felt like it was on fire. A big pit of hot coals settled deep in his stomach, threatening to bubble up. A sheen of sticky sweat covered his forehead as his breathing got heavier, his scarred chest rising and falling with every stroke of your hand over his most intimate part.

“Mnrrrrggh- g-gooood.” He drawled, voice sounding more rough than usual as he panted, hands clenching and unclenching the bedsheets at his sides, not knowing what to do with his body.

“Just relax, Kyle. Let go, I’m right here.” You whispered in reassurance, wanting him to feel comfortable the whole time.

This was such an intimate action and you didn’t want to do anything to cause Kyle to react in a possibly dangerous way. 

Kyle let out a quiet, desperate whine, so overwhelmed by the feeling, but also at the same time, wanting more. Like he couldn’t get enough. 

Sensing this, you settled yourself more in between his legs, letting your tongue slip out and carefully swipe across his cockhead, causing him to nearly cry out at the feeling, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to make sense of the new, wonderful sensation.

You couldn’t help but smirk, carefully swiping your tongue across the tip a few more times before sinking down, lips wrapped tightly around his length as you bobbed your head a bit, stroking the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth.

Kyle was writhing on the bed, and to the naked eye, it would almost appear that he was in pain. You did worry for a second, but the way he opened his eyes and looked down at you told you he was just fine.

You sped up your hand, bobbing your head faster, the slick sound of Kyle’s cock hitting the back of your throat was driving him absolutely crazy and in an instant, you were thrown onto your back, Kyle tearing viciously at your clothes as he grunted, eyes dark and determined.

“Woah! Kyle- be careful- Hey!” You shouted as he ripped off your shirt, hands sweeping across your bare stomach before he pulled off your pajama pants as well.

Everything was happening so fast that you barely had time to think. You tried to sit up, to get Kyle to calm down, but he was so riled up that he couldn’t see reason. He attacked your neck with sloppy kisses and bites, marking you up.

He groaned in frustration as he tried to get your bra off but failed, moving on to your panties instead.

You winced as the harsh thread of fabric was ripped from you, leaving a red mark.

“Kyle! Just- slow down!” 

But he wasn’t listening, not really. He had climbed on top of you, trying to position his cock at your entrance before he slid in. A loud, relieved groan leaving his lips as he nearly collapsed onto you.

He was big, and it hurt. Especially since he had given you no time to adjust before he was moving at a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against yours as he pulled you into a sloppy kiss. 

Your body slowly began to adjust, letting him sink deeper into you. His thrusts didn’t have any particular rhythm to them. He just went in and out, in and out. 

With every thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You had barely noticed the way Kyle had stilled, soft cries coming from his lips as he was buried against your shoulder. You frowned, thinking that obviously something was wrong, so you pushed Kyle up a bit to get a good look at his face. He was crying. Fat teardrops rolled down his pale, scared face as he looked at you.

“Kyle? Kyle hey- woah look at me, what’s wrong?” You cupped his cheek, trying to sit up a bit, but it was hard because Kyle was still on top of you, as well as inside you.

He simply just shook his head at your question, leaning closer to you, nearly suffocating. It was as if he wanted to crawl inside your body. Just wanted to be as close as humanly possible.

“Kyle-“ you urged, still very worried about the boy on top of you. His thrusts had stopped and he was just crying, seemingly trying to form words, but unable to.

“I-I l-loo-“ he sniffled a bit, a tear dripping from his chin onto your bare breast. You shivered, focusing on his words to try and understand him. 

“Loooooove y-youuuu” he said, looking up at you proudly as he managed to get the words out.

You almost teared up at his confession. He was crying because he loved you? God, you’d never meet another human being as kind and selfless and just… sweet as him. He was one of a kind. 

He whimpered quietly as he began to thrust into you again, and you could tell he was close by the urgency in his thrusts.

“Shhh-“ you whispered, holding him close. Making sure he felt secure and loved. 

“I love you too Kyle. So much, such a good boy- fuck-“ you swallowed hard, grasping at Kyle’s back as he fucked into you, his body quivering as he pulled back a bit to look at you, seeming to ask without words if it was okay to cum. To let go. 

“I’ve got you, Kyle. Go ahead baby.” You cooed, and Kyle’s face contorted in the most beautiful display of pleasure you’d ever seen, his hips stilling after one particularly hard thrust. You felt as his warm seed filled you, and you cursed silently. He hadn’t worn a condom. It’d be fine though. You hoped. You were on birth control, but you knew that didn’t always work.

You relaxed into the bed, pulling a now exhausted Kyle with you. He pulled out of you shakily and curled up beside you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he closed his eyes. 

He was out like a light before you even had the chance to say another word. You got up to get cleaned up before you went to Kyle’s room, seeing the light still on.

And there, on the bed was his tablet, headphones still connected, and a random video pulled up on some porn website. How he had managed to find it astounded you, but you knew only two things.

You loved Kyle more than anyone in this world and would do everything in your power to keep him feeling safe and loved

He needed to be monitored while on his tablet from now on. 

[slutsssphobia]

'𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄!'

This request is just so mwah 🌹

Request!:""here me out,,,,, nsfw of douma and afab!reader of overstim, public(in front of Muzan), while the reader is a hashira but like he has to keep going, and temp play with ice?????"" Muzan could join to

Warnings!: Dom!douma,sub!fem!reader,Dom! muzan,mean!douma,mean!muzan,size kink,belly bulge,monster fucking,slight non con?(reader got kidnapped) dubious con, double penetration,blowjob mention, ice play, temperature play

A/n:this is my longest work so far 🍷

(little backround)

You had been out on a mission to seek out a location by the name of "internal paradise cult'' It was led by a demon you had to hunt down. 'Douma'. "Are you sure you can go alone?" Shinobu asked you while preparing your med kit in case you injure yourself on the journey. "There's no demon I can't take!" You said proudly. You've worked your ass off to claim your spot as a hashira, shinobu left you some extra food in case. She secured your basket and sent you off, your journey awaited you as you stepped into the forest. You had your head up high, your mind was set on this journey.

You grew to become tired and slumped yourself on a log and opened your prepared basket. You took a sip of water from your small jug. As you twisted the lid shut you heard something in the far distance.

Snap!

You quickly rose in defense and scanned the area for any threat. To your surprise it was just a small animal passing by. You sighed and placed your sword back on your side, you were about to depart but you sensed the presence of something behind you. Your head snapped to look at what was behind and your eyes widened.

"hello there.."

There stood a shadow looming over your small form, you immediately charged towards it and raised your sword to strike an attack but to your disadvantage your ankle had been grabbed by a strong force. You helped as the shadow revealed itself as the one and only.

Douma.

"looking for something? You seem puzzled dear!"

The demon let a stifled laugh, you struggled against his grip. You tried kicking him, you reached for your sword it was just out of reach. The demon noticed you reaching for your sword and smiled. "Aww you want this?"

Douma took your sword and threw it almost as far as a yard away. You were in a fit of fear, you fought for your release but the demon only sat you on his lap and toyed with your uniform. "Let me go!"

You cried as the demon unbuttoned your uniform slowly, the demon only ignored your pleas and continued. He licked his pale lips as your laced bra was revealed. You shuddered at the cold air hitting your warm skin, you hated how the demon had so much control over you. "Not so feisty now huh?"

Douma teased as he removed your black laced bra and freed your breasts from the confinement, you tried to cover your breast but your arms were put behind your back in order to restrain you. Douma took your hardened nipple in his mouth rolling the bud against his tongue. His warm tongue was making you go feral, he switched to your other nipple releasing with a small pop!

He gave the same treatment to the other and grinned at your reactions. Douma lifted your chin with his index and placed his lips on your warm ones. You tried to pull away but douma held you in place keeping you still. He bit your bottom lip harshly demanding entrance into your mouth. You refused. You kept your fighting spirit, you couldn't give in.

Douma saw right through you and bit harsher, it made you whimper and leave your mouth agape for doumas tongue to slip in. He moaned into your mouth sending a warm fuzzy feeling to your core. You felt a wetness form in your panties. Your body was failing you, you couldn't be aroused! This a demon we are talking about for crying out loud!

Douma smirked and pulled away from the steamy kiss. "Someone's excited..you're gonna have to wait darling~"

Douma pecked your lips once more before your vision went black.

"did you find her?" Muzan asked douma as he was sitting on his throne head titled down.

"yes Lord muzan" douma replied bowing before the demon king, douma had brought you in due to muzan's orders. Of course douma found you fascinating and wanted you all to himself but it was his master's order.

"bring her in"

Douma rose from his knees and exited the room to retrieve you from your so called "room" douma had given you. You were still fast asleep when douma carried you in. You had taken a harsh blow to the head.

After five minutes had passed by you had awoken from your slumber, your vision was blurry and your leg had been wounded from what seemed nails. You rubbed your eye lids and opened your eyes to see from what it seemed the demon king. You were terrified at this point, you would have never thought you would come across muzan. Well not now in time at least, you were trembling at this point. Your lips quivered, "why am I here..?" You dared to question muzan. "No one gave you permission to speak."

Muzan spoke and glared at you with those red beaming eyes. His eye intimidated you, just a glare made you shiver.

"give her a punishment douma."

Muzan sat still in his chair eyes directed at you never leaving your body. "With pleasure~"

Douma purred as he got closer to you. He picked you up from the cold hard floor and placed you on the bed. You pleaded for him not to hurt you but your pleas went on deaf ears as douma harshly discarded your clothing leaving you on full display.

Douma kneeled at the edge of the bed and gripped your thighs and scooted you more towards the edge. Douma blew cold air against your wet fold making you gasp. Douma used his blood demon art and made a small icicle. "W-wait no please!" You begged him not to put it in you. He stroked your thigh and kissed the soft flesh. "It won't hurt dear""

At this point you didn't have anyone to believe so you stopped complaining hoping all of this would end. He slowly inserted the icicle into your sopping hole. The coldness made you shriek, douma used his tongue to push it farther in. He used this advantage and started licking fat stripes along your cold pussy.

Muzan sat and watched douma toy with you. He had a growing bulge in his pants from just the sight of you. Douma lifted his head from in between your legs and removed his pants and boxers. You were in a trance unable to think or say. The only thing that made it out of your mouth was only short babbles and moans.

Douma slapped his dick against your pussy and smiled, he leaned close to your ear and whispered sweet nothings. He slowly slipped it in not giving you time to adjust.

You screamed out loud and clawed at his back, he moaned out from the feeling and thrusted faster into you. The sound of slapping ringed in muzan's ears. He smirked at the faces you were making as douma harshly pounded into your tight pussy.

After about 15 minutes douma let out his fifth load into you. You already had two orgasms already your body was shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. Doumas thrusts were becoming sloppy, the bulge on your stomach was showing as he let out one last thrust.

"so pretty ~"

Douma cooed as he pulled out of you watching his cum ooze out your pussy. Soon after you didn't realize muzan was now sitting at the edge of the bed as well. "Douma fuck her mouth"

Muzan ordered. Douma scooted over to where your head rested and smiled sweetly masking his lewd intentions. Muzan already had his pants removed and lined himself at your entrance. He slammed without warning which made you yelp. "Fucking whore"

Muzan spat as douma plunged his cock in your mouth closing your airway. You gagged in his size. You couldn't help but swirl your tongue against him. His tip hit your throat many times but to doumas surprise your gag reflex was impressive. Muzan's pace was godly he had no intention of stopping. He was rearranging your insides at this point. He hit your cervix which made you go over the edge. You squirted all over his cock which made him harden.

Douma moaned as you sent vibrations to his cock from your own moans. He finally came in your mouth which you immediately swallowed.

Muzan pulled out of you and sat on the edge of the bed.

"douma get over here"

Muzan ordered. Douma sat on his knees before muzan and fanned himself. "You completed your mission bringing the hashira to me. I'll pity you and give you some of my blood in return." Muzan stopped for a moment.

"at one cost." Muzan started. Douma looked at muzan with doe eyes. "Please me."

They are just so augh- 🍷

Ty for requesting love 🌺

[monstertidbits]

i don't know why it took me so long to pinpoint the exact problem izutsumi had with laios specifically; yeah she was nasty towards everyone at first but she was much worse when it came to laios and he's the one she took the longest to warm up to. then i reread the series and got to ch43 and just.

it's clear why she can't stand laios at all: he's the leader. he's the one who calls the shots, he's the one everyone follows and as it seems, they obey even if what he suggests makes them uncomfortable. and she hates that, because she just managed to run away from the nakamoto clan, she's finally free. even laios simply being caring and concerned for her makes her mad, because she feels this is him being condenscending just like how her old party was.

at first, he seemed like some weirdo who likes to indulge himself and doesn't take into consideration everyone else's opinion. that's why he's the one she struggles to understand and accept as a friend the most in her new party, keeping up this attitude of hers for quite a while. but a lot has happened after she joined the party and she saw this man helping his friends, putting them before him and saving them time and time again, and taking matters into his own hands instead of passively waiting for a miracle, just like her; especially when he took responsibility for his sister's current state and killed her on his own. albeit wary at first, she came to respect him and his choices. so when he asked her to do this one thing, she didn't even protest:

she simply asked him about his promise to reunite with everyone, with his friends. and then she followed his lead, even though he didn't answer her, because he didn't need to; izutsumi already decided to put her trust in him, whatever the outcome may be. their relationship is another example of laios's struggle with leadership in the manga and being considered a rather unusual leader, and that makes their interaction in chapter 95 so much more sweet and meaningful:

this is her giving back for all that he has done for them in this journey. she comes back to him, to give him advice and encouragement and tell him that everyone cares enough about him to want to struggle for him, too, just like he did for them. she's the one to help him clear his head when he needed it most. and this chapter purposely starts with her being surprised at being called laios's "comrade", because it's about her not only accepting him as the leader, but as her friend too.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Good Father

Dad!Dean Winchester X Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: Dean has a beautiful wife and the cutest little girl. The perfect family. Maybe it's time to have a real home, too.

Part 2 of A Good Man but can be read as a standalone. This is actually how supernatural ended thank you very much

Warnings: not much, candy cane fluff, foul language. Still minors dni cause I don't want minor on my blog

WC: 2.6k

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. Why not post it right? I love Dean with all my heart. That's nothing new. Enjoy the teeth rooting fluff cause I don't have the mental capacity to write smut rn :,)

Sleep still covered your eyes as you rubbed them softly. It couldn't have been later than six a.m., or at least what you saw through half-closed eyes on your phone screen when you woke up. You weren't fully sure, you were still processing that you were awake. You hadn't entirely wanted to get out of bed, but the lack of your husband's warmth all but forced you out of the comfort of your covers. Your feet took you to the study first. That's normally where you would find the brothers anyway. But you only saw Sam.

"Morning." You mumbled softly, running a hand over your face as you walked over to the younger Winchester.

Sam lifted his eyes from the ancient looking book in front of him, and he gave you a warm smile.

"Oh, hey, good morning."

You stood beside him, leaning a hand on the table as you looked around for Dean with a small frown.

"Where's your brother?"

"In the kitchen with Rosie. She woke up like an hour ago, so he's making her breakfast." He answered with a smile.

Your own lips irked up in pleasant surprise. Normally, Rosalie— yours and Dean's little girl— would come running to wake you— or both you and Dean, depending who was home at the time. You never minded that she would be up before you since Sam was always up before sunrise, and he loved spending time with his niece. But it did surprise you a bit that Dean didn't wake you at all this morning. Though, you were more so in awe at the fact that he had decided to take care of her that morning by himself.

Truth was, he had been gone a while, almost a week. That had been the longest he had spent on a hunt ever since she was born— five years ago. And your little girl was definitely missing her dad. She loved you, no doubt about it, but the little one was a daddy's girl for sure, but you blamed Dean for spoiling her so much. So she was feeling his absence greatly. She cried almost every night, asking why daddy wasn't there to tuck her in. It broke your heart a hundred times over to see her so heartbroken. When Dean came home last night, she all but clung to him, refusing to leave his side. And you guessed that had carried over to this morning.

"Thanks, Sam." You patted his shoulder and padded through the long halls of the bunker to the kitchen. You held in your breath as you peaked your head through the door and you nearly teared up at the sight.

"You think mommy and Sammy will like these?" Dean pursed his lips, nudging at the tiny human resting on his hip as three different pans with pancake batter, sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs cooked on the stove.

"Uh-huh. It looks yummy." She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he held her.

"Yeah, sure does." Dean shrugged, lips pulled into a proud grin at his own work. He always was a great cook.

He stood for a second, keeping an eye on one thing as he moved around another with a spatula and still somehow held a five year-old on his hip. He had his attention somewhere else, so he almost missed the tiny voice in his ear.

"I missed you, daddy." Rosie mumbled, her soft voice almost inaudible against him. Dean looked down at her, his eyes slightly big and his lips parted. He stared at her for a long second before he said anything. He was wondering just what the fuck he ever did to deserve something like this.

"I… I missed you too, baby. Always." He sighed out, his chest aching with an indescriptible feeling as he brushed some loose strands behind her ear, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

You were silent for a long minute, lips slightly parted and eyes filled with awe as you leaned against the doorframe to watch the sight in front of you. Dean, still in his pajamas, with his little girl on his hip as he cooked. He was saying something to her, or so you figured since you heard her giggles, her tiny hands bunched around his t-shirt as she buried her face in his shoulder. He was smiling too.

"I'm deeply hurt. Making breakfast without me?" You spoke up, feigning hurt.

Dean turned around, he smiled at you at first but when Rosie started giggling at you, hiding deeper into his chest, he gritted his teeth.

"Ah, busted. Told you mommy would find out." He shook his head, holding back a smile as you approached them.

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. He gave you a shrug with a toothy smile that showed the edges of his canines, and he gave you that innocent puppy dog look. You groaned out.

"We'll talk later." You warned, but your tone was playful. You finally slipped a smile as you stood on the tip of your toes to give Dean a kiss on the lips. He happily leaned down to meet you halfway. And then you kissed your little girl, leaving kisses all over her tiny face.

She giggled, nearly jumping out of her dad's arms into yours. Dean happily passed her over to you, his hip starting to get numb. You held her happily, pressing a kiss to the mess of her bedhead. God, the more this one grew, the more she looked like Dean. The same green eyes, the same freckled cheeks. But she had your nose, and her hair was a shade darker than Dean's, closer to Sam's brown. But you knew that she would be the spitting image of her dad when she grew older.

"Did you help daddy make breakfast?" You asked Rosie, and she nodded excitedly.

"Yeah! I helps daddy make pancakes." You gasped, lips parted to share her excitement.

"Those are gonna be the yummiest of pancakes, right sweetheart?" Dean leaned down, nudging her cheek with his finger. She nodded.

"Alright, little one, go sit with Sammy, we'll bring you out some pancakes, okay?" You told the little girl, and she nodded again, mumbling an 'okay'. You smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you set her down her tiny feet. She had spent her whole short life in this bunker. You were sure she could find her way around the general area.

"Tell Sammy he's a nerd for me." Dean called out to Rosie as she ran off, chanting that her uncle Sammy was a nerd. Dean was smiling proudly to himself. He was raising her right.

"You're an ass." You playfully scolded him, and he gave you a look of feign innocence. He shrugged at you.

"I ever tell you how beautiful you look in the morning?" He irked his lips at you, resting his hands on your hips as he pulled you close. God he had missed you so fucking much.

"Missed you, too, hun." You leaned up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He tried to hide it, muffle the sound, but he winced when your hand touched his cheek.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you immediately pulled back to look at his face. You hadn't noticed the red bruise on his cheek, on the purple bruising around his eye. You gasped quietly, gently brushing the tip of your fingers over the bruised skin. He scrunched up his face at you, about to pull back, but you shot him a sharp look.

"I'm fine, baby. Just some bruises. You shoulda seen the other guy." He grinned, trying to humor you, but the concern didn't leave your face.

"I don't want to, actually." You sighed softly, your eyes falling to his chest, avoiding his eyes.

You wouldn't say it to his face, not actually. How could you? He never lied to you, from the moment he wanted something real with you he told you the truth. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with him. Sammy and hunting come with the package— he told you. And you accepted it. All of it. You married him anyway. You gave him a daughter anyway. But God, it terrified you beyond words that he was still hunting. That he still left you and your little girl for days at a time. And that he would come home with new scars and bruises that would last days. But at times— like this one— you feared that neither of them would come home at all.

"Sweetheart…" There was a bit of warning in his voice. He could read you so easily. He grabbed your face, forcing your head up to look at him now. "What is it?"

"You worry me, Dean. Look at your face. I don't even want to know how it looks under your shirt." Your eyes fell to the side, and your chest filled with ache as you tried to say the right words. "I'm sorry, I know I have no right to guilt trip you. But your daughter missed you, I missed you, and we need you, Dean, that's all."

Dean said nothing at this, his face stayed unreadable as he listened to you. And he heard you, he heard you loud and clear. He felt pressure on his chest and a sick feeling to his stomach. Fuck, he had grown soft.

"C'mere." He pulled you to his chest. He rested his hand on your hair, and he sighed softly when you threw your arms around his torso. "You know I love you, and Rosie, so much, right?"

You nodded against his chest. "I know babe, I love you, too."

We need you, Dean.

"Daddy! I told uncle Sammy he's a— a nerd!" Rosie announced loudly when she saw you and Dean again. And you had to hide your smile at the pointed look Sam shot his older brother.

Dean played dumb, his lips falling open, and he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm telling ya, Sammy, I dunno where she learns it from."

"Yeah, great parenting dude." Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, and he could only snort in response.

"Yeah, well, here's my apology." Dean shrugged, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Sam with a shit eating smile. Sam pretended to be offended, but he ate the plate in front of him without protesting.

"Alright, Rosie, you wanna eat some pancakes before school?" You set the plate with the smaller portion of pancakes and bacon in front of her and she nodded happily.

"Yes, please!" She excitedly grabbed a fork and dug in, but stopped a second later and looked at Dean. "Daddy can I has syrup?"

"Sure, baby." He practically saturated her plate with syrup and then his own. You shook your head at how alike they were already. You shared a knowing look with Sam and sighed softly, eating from your own plate.

You didn't often have the chance to have breakfast as a family, so you always treasured little moments like this when you had them. And deep in your heart, you wished you had moments like this more.

~~~~~~

"Sweetheart, you in here?" Dean peeked his head into your shared bedroom, his eyes darting around for a few seconds, and then his lips curved up at the sight of you on your shared bed, face deep in your laptop.

"Hi love," You smiled at him, setting your laptop aside to greet him. He happily joined your side, his lips pressing a kiss to yours instantly. "You left Rosie at school, right?"

Your words were stern as was the look you gave him. He pulled back and pouted. You were definitely scolding him for the time he decided to take Rosalie on a drive with Baby just because she asked instead of dropping her off at school.

"'Course I did. No rides in Baby this time, I promise." He smiled at you, and you rolled your eyes.

"Hope so." He saw you reach for your laptop again so he decided to speak again.

Dean thought about it. He thought about it all morning. He drove around town for another hour just to get his thoughts straight.

"Listen, I was thinkin' 'bout what you said this morning.."

You shook your head at him, "I'm sorry, Dean, I know I shouldn't have. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"

"Hey, no, don't do that. Let's not forget about it." You frowned at him, but you didn't respond, so he kept talking. "You're right. I know you are. Hell, I got thrown around so hard, I don't know how I got outta bed this morning. I thought about you, thought about Rosie. Thought about my old man, too."

You frowned softly, resting your hand on the back of his neck, fingers threading through the short hair gently, "Dean.."

"I don't want to be like my old man. I don't want to leave you and Rosie alone anymore, I just can't."

You straightened up, a bit unsure where he was getting at.

"Dean, baby, what are you trying to say?"

"You and Rosie deserve a normal life, a house, all of that shit." Dean breathed out the words, and he held your face in his hands, a tiny smile on his lips. "I want to try it. A normal life. Don't you?"

"I… Dean.." You sighed out softly, attempting to process his words. You stared at him long and hard, and all you saw was love, his green eyes were sincere. "I wouldn't force you to give up hunting. I mean, that's all you've known? And what about Sam? I just—"

"That's exactly it. I'm… I'm so goddamn tired of the life. Don't get me wrong, we save people, hell, we've saved the world, but is that really all worth it if I can't come home to my wife and daughter?" He tilted his head, his free hand was on your thigh, and he squeezed softly. "And Sammy, I know he's tired of it too. He's always wanted a normal life. But he stayed because of me. If I get out, I know he'll do it, too. He's done it before. Who knows, maybe he can find his own pretty girl to marry and have a couple of kids with."

For the longest time, Dean had refused to even consider doing anything else with his life, doing anything better. This was all he had ever known, all he was ever actually good at, right? But lately, God, just lately, he was seeing that light at the end of the tunnel. You and Rosalie were right there. And if you were there with him, the rest of the world could go to hell for all he cared.

"Dean, I love you, I loved you then, hunter and all, and I will love you no matter what. But if you want to settle down.." You breathed out a soft laugh, the words sounding so nice when you said them out loud. You leaned closer to him, a smile on your lips as you pressed your forehead against his. "We'll settle down. A house, normal jobs, play dates, all of it."

"Christ, what did I ever do to deserve you in my life?" He smiled wide, and he pressed a hard kiss to your lips. It was warm, loving.

"Mhmm, so, what would a former hunter do for a living?"

"I'm pretty good with cars aren't I? What do you say? Think I should open my own car shop?"

Your husband as a mechanic? That wouldn't be half bad.

[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Roman Roy Would Include...

Request: oh my god! your kendall roy kissing headcanons were adorable! would it be possible to get some for roman as well? i just know that man is touch starved and definitely had an awkward time kissing the reader early on in their relationship. obviously, you can choose to ignore but thank you!

Awww yes of course you can get some my love this man is 100% touch starved you’re so right <3

LADS OKAY I’M COMING BACK TO SAY THIS IS NEARLY 7K AND MY LONGEST FIC BY FAR LMAOO BABYGIRL CODED anyway comments are much appreciated because I am so tired lol ty ty ily all! :)

Warning: mentions of injuries/ blood, childhood abuse, and some swearing! Also MAJOR spoilers for Season 4!!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @xihatiancai.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

We all really took one look at Roman Roy and went wet pathetic disgusting meow meow man I love you, and I really love and appreciate that for all of us. Because like... if not babygirl, why babygirl coded?

The first time you guys ‘kissed’, you were both around seven years old: on the tennis court, Shiv had sent a ball flying at Roman that had bent his hand backwards, and left quite a nasty gash of blood running down his arm. Instead of comforting the brother she had just bruised for the umpteenth time, the set of Roman crawling down to sit on the grass while cradling his arm just made her furious, and she went storming off towards the kitchen for some chocolate milk to cool down. You had been watching from the doubles side line, dropping your own racket as soon as Roman began to snivel, squeezing his skin back together and wincing as warm blood gushed out onto the grass. You run over to kneel in front of him, the harsh rays of light blushing across your head like a halo as you grab onto his elbow. You press the back of your shirt against it, hoping it will do until a nurse or one of the waiters comes running out with a first aid kit; as you glance up, the furious face of his father comes pacing past the balcony doors, and so you turn Roman’s head to look at you instead, praying that he won’t spot him. It will only make him whine more. It surprises you when he curses curtly instead at the feel of your fingers pressing down hard against his wound, but when you mumble an apology he finally stops scowling down at the ground and looks up: it’s as if he’s seeing you properly for the first time. His eyes light up as you gently lean down and press a kiss against the bloodstains; just the slightest hint of pressure, and tingling warmth of your your lips is enough to send a flourish through his body and make Roman Roy feel nourished. No longer withered, no longer left to rot. Roman gazes up at you: past the dappled sunlight, past the dotted clouds, past the earth and skies and heavens, and past it all he sees you. 

You’re the first and last person he’s ever wanted to kiss. Like craving poison, he knows it will pass through and destroy him if he allows himself to indulge. But by god, if it wouldn’t taste so sweet as it pours down his throat and overwhelms every dilapidated part of his body.

The first time he works up the nerves to kiss you back, is in one of the pool storage huts just past the outer boundaries of his father’s estate. Shiv had finally convinced her father to allow her out into the city to go shopping for some new suits, and Ken had been chained into a business meeting to take notes for Logan, so Roman had been left all alone to wander around the ostentatious shadows and lonely halls of the house he hated to call home. Feeling trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, he wanders towards the ‘safe space’ the two of you had created a couple of years ago: a small nook you and Roman had spent the day nestling out (and nearly breaking his arm shoving unused surfboards and pool cleaning chemical boxes) in the dim, and slightly damp room. Finally feeling at home as he stepped into the mildew-steeped scent cloud that enveloped the square box stuffed full of things his father had wanted out of his sight, his heart is allieved to spot you already there. You don’t even have to look up from your book as he comes dawdling towards you like a puppy afraid it’s about to be kicked. When you open your arm up to him willingly, the true him comes leaping forth: like a darting hummingbird, he comes flying  into your side, nestling his chin on the hard part of your shoulder so he can scan the words lazily past your head. After about half an hour of him gripping onto your shirt, as sweet and softly as infant spring, he glances up towards your face and an overwhelming urge overtakes him. Before he can stop himself, before he can make sense of his decision, before he can chide himself for his weakness, he lifts his head up and presses his lips firmly, if a little harshly, against the side of your cheek. Your book crashes to the floor with a thunderous slap, lifting a small cloud of dust as you raise your fingers to the wet spot in surprise. He immediately shuffles backwards at the noise, before making an awkward, fumbling excuse and running out the door.

He never brings it up again, but whenever you’re round at the Roy residence after that you can feel the intensity of his eyes land on you far more often. He blinks away and scratches the back of his neck nonchalantly whenever you catch him, or sometimes scrunches his nose up and starts biting the edges of his fingernails if he’s really nervous. But the love is there. He just can’t say it yet.

Once, when you were the only person in the house besides Connor and Logan, you were asked by the second-born eldest son to help him find Romie. With a concerned sigh, Connor wanders off to check behind the bathroom door off the living room, his lips forming a tight line as he disappears off down the corridor. Turns out, Logan had found out that Roman had been the one to spill his ice cream cone in the car on the way back from his fencing lesson, and Roman had run off cursing and crying when he heard the roar reverberate out from his father’s office at the news. You know where he is, instinctively. Of course you do: you don’t even need to think as your feet guide you towards his bedroom, and your body shrinks down to scoot under the bed and lie on the pristinely clean floorboards. He’s hiding behind the tendril weeds of his fear, making himself as small a target as possible as he balls himself up, trembling like heavy branches when lanced with frost. From behind his raised elbows that protect his face, he’s sniffling, his feet leaving the ground every few seconds from how harshly they shake. You lie down carefully on your side beside him, so hyperaware of any part of yourself brushing against him, in case the wounded creature decides to bolt. Thankfully, he comes sliding towards you, only stopping when your chest does the job for him; being as physically close as he can get to you, he huddles into your embrace while you stroke back the few curls by his ear. Once you’ve finally managed to choke back your own tears, your lips latch onto the spot of skin by the lobe of his ear, eyes closing and ticking his skin. He warbles against you, shivering, and the kiss just makes him whine more harrowingly against your chest.

Romie’s always around you. Always. He finds it difficult to actually be physically intimate, so it says quite plainly (even if you can’t understand it yet) that you’re the love of his life when he comes barrelling down the front stairs of the veranda and straight into your hug whenever your first foot falls onto the estate. It also means that during family dinners, when he’s finally mastering the skill of slouching back in his wishbone chair and tuning out all the horrible and spiteful things wrapped up in faux sincerity his family are saying about each other, he turns instead to kick your feet under the table. The brush of his ankle against your shoe is soon followed by the heavy pressure of his fingers reaching over onto your lap and entangling with your own. When the two of you are finally excused, you decide not to go back inside straight away. Instead, the two of you go for a dander around some of the verdant fields around the edges of the property: a few green patches here there that are filled with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly blooming rainbows splattered amongst the dirt. You decide to stop and sit for a while on the edge of a cobbled stone wall, laughing as Roman nearly falls off the uneven patch as he settles down beside you. He shrugs you off with a wave of his hand, but he’s smiling as you pluck a daisy from between the blades and tuck it behind his ear. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking shite and poking fun at each other, until Roman shyly takes a break from his rapid talking to blink slowly. He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He climbs into your room later that night, and you nearly hit him with a baseball bat when you come strolling out of your bathroom to see a teenager laying splayed out in a heap on your rug, a few pages of your homework flying over your desk from where he had banged his knee and tripped. With a lopsided grin, he decides to just stay lying there (once you had convinced him that you weren’t going to actually hit him). Sometimes Roman just likes to watch what you’re doing: to observe as an outsider what normality, what contentment should and could feel like. As you sit by your lamp and finish off your english essay for the next morning, you notice with furrowed eyebrows that Roman is moochier than normal tonight: he keeps squirming, rolling about and whining as if he’s debating something in his mind. That’s why when he’s gripping onto the ivy and finally climbing back down into the darkness later that night, you grab onto the collar of his sherpa jacket and heave him up through the air like a flustered bird towards you. After his initial surprise at the feeling of you pounding your lips against his own, he melts into you: clumsily, messily, desperately, but with one hand gripping so hard onto your window frame that he splinters the wood. His top lip refuses to let you go: capturing onto your bottom lip over and over and over again, the sweet taste of cherry flooding your senses as you bite down on the lip forcing its way into your mouth. When he pulls away, he looks so uncharacteristically serious for a moment as he hovers a few inches away from your face. His eyes never break from your lips, as if he he looks away the miracle he’s been graced with might fly away and he’ll be left with the hellish nightmare of his normal reality. But it doesn’t, and so you let him go.

He burns a crimson red and starts muttering incoherently as his feet work their way back down the garden lattice, but he’s got this giddy smile and a spring in his swishing walk the whole way home.

I mean, like, of course Connor invited you on the camping trip. And man, I mean the tension that had been expanding between you and Roman over the last few years was becoming more and more obvious to his brothers, and it pierced Roman’s heart with a stroke of fear when he realised it was to him as well. Connor’s little fishing expedition by the river turned out a little differently than he expected: instead of a placid moment between family, learning and teaching new skills together and bonding over one activity they could all share in, it was more of a ‘watch little gremlin Roman flirt obnoxiously with Y/n and, once again, ignore everyone else’ fest. Kendall sat on the shore, itchy against the reeds of grass and sighing every time he looked down at his watch. Connor was still having fun, though, from where he was wading his brand new, and never worn again wellies into the shallow end of the creek. It was just that every now and then he would have to trip over his fishing line and scoot to the right to avoid large splashes of weedy water landing on him; Roman had decided a much better use of his time was to try and pull up handful of mud and chase you around the river side with it. Your squeals, as you ran around the tamarack trees and peered around the sides like a meerkat, could be heard from the campsite. So, too, could Roman’s hyena laugh as he went laughing around the bend after you, and Connor had to spend half the night ignoring your shared snickers as he apologies to camper after camper. 

I don’t even know how, but somehow the two of you managed to convince Connor that it was a great idea for you and Roman to share a tent. Thanks to Kendall’s pointed warning for the two of you to behave and ‘not embarrass the family name anymore’, you were both surprisingly well behaved during the night. Mainly due to the fact that before you fell asleep, you leant over and left a chaste kiss against Roman’s cold forehead, before turning onto your side facing him and wishing him a goodnight. He wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a little worm as the electricity from your touch spread down like firebolts through his body. That man did not sleep one wink that night. Not one. Instead he rolled onto his left side, and chose to spend his time contemplating you: taking you in. The milky buzz of twilight flooded through the loose zip, the chirp of bouncing crickets on the darkened rocks outside match the intense thudding of his heart. Fumbling his fingers up so they rested underneath the side of his jaw, he made himself comfortable as he observed the way your chest rose and fall: the way your nose crinkled up in disgust when you were in the throes of a weird dream, the way your mouth mushed as you turned more into the stony ground. How much he loved you. How happy he could be if he could just summon the bravery to tell you. How fucked he was. How, if he did, his father would immediately utilise it, weaponize his love against him.

Roman wasn’t stupid, but he was. He didn’t know if he could find a way to escape this cage. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no key to this dog kennel, to this bird cage, to this leash. But he lay there, still, dreaming of freedom.

You get invited along on their family holidays a lot, mainly because Logan spends his whole time on phone calls and not mentally being present so he doesn’t really notice you’re there. If you and Roman aren’t spending the afternoons sitting together on a sun lounger, reading aloud softly to him by the pool side, it’s spent actually in the pool. A freshly seventeen year old Roman had seemed nervous, besides the usual annoyance at having to wear nothing but swimming shorts: shaken all day; when you touch his pinkie finger and grip onto it, silently asking him with your stern expression if you were okay, only the most miniscule of grins could cross his face in response. He still seemed unsettled in the water, besides the fact that Shiv’s foot nearly thwacked him up the face as she and Kendall wrestled each other under the water, both unrelenting in their accusation that the other had lost their splashing match. While you watched on in horrified curiosity, you nearly jumped when you felt Roman softly touch your elbow and lead you away from the affray. You think he’s trying to guide you towards the Jacuzzis as you bob across the water, or perhaps back to his room to escape the antics of his family. Instead, Roman leads you further into the deep end for a moment; after a sharp turn right, you’re surrounded by a small well, a shallow area just out of sight of the main swimming area. The imposing walls loom over your head as you take a perched seat on the brick bench that runs around the semi-circle, and Roman’s breath trembles as he follows suit, sitting maddingly close to you. You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before you can get a squeak out he’s lunged at you, fervently enough to make you nearly bite your tongue. It’s not super romantic, and it’s incredibly clumsy as an inexperienced Roman Roy mashes his lips against your bottom one until he can feel his teeth clash against yours. You can taste a touch of pineapple from the inside of his mouth as he sloppily raises his cupid’s bow, and soon after the tang of chlorine as he falls too far forward and sends you both tumbling backwards into the water. But when you come back up for air, heaving him up by his underarms and staring dumbstruck at him as he pants heavily and tries to look anywhere else, you burst out giggling. Roman’s smile grows brightly enough to blight the sun as he looks incredulously at you, the laughter only stopping short on his lips when he catches the squinting look of his sister watching the two of you from the boundary edge.

It’s the first and last time Roman Roy kisses you for a while, terrified that one of his siblings will go squealing to daddy and he’ll take you away from him. And then, suddenly, the two of you have grown up. Roman’s still stuck to you like glue, but the repression festers away in his stomach until he feels as if some kind of scaly tooth monster is gnawing away at his insides. He feels the leather tighten around his neck whenever he’s standing like an affronted ostrich in that office with his father, his master, his demise, his ghost, him. 

So, Roman starts to try and avoid you whenever he’s at Waystar, worried that the grief that never seems to leave his mind will strangle you if he lets you in. Terrified that his father will die, but also that his father will never die. That this is just another cage. Eventually, after weeks of him turning on his heels with a manic jolt and running out of every board room he spots you in: after months of the child dressed up as a man putting his phone to his ear and having nonsensical phone calls every time he passes you in the corridors, you manage to nab him when he’s walking out of the break room. Even though a stuttering cousin Greg thinks you’re trying to kidnap him when you grab Roman by the collar and start dragging him to the elevator, you refuse to let go until Greg’s waving hand is firmly shut behind the metal sheets. You let go, and he fumbles backwards onto the hand-rail that runs around the small rectangle with a bemused ‘what the actual fuck’, but you just cross your arms and stare at him, refusing to talk first. 

Your austere façade quickly drops, and you’re quick to slam your first into the emergency button on the panel, gripping onto Roman’s sleeve as the elevator lurches to a stop between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. A kind of acceptance has washed over Roman, some kind of known and familiar claustrophobia from having spent his whole life locked up, his whole life thrown about sets in. He picks at his fingernails as his eyes dart about, wild and brutal and crushing as he looks around for an escape route. It’s only when you put a hand on his shoulder and draw him in for a hug that he breaks down; he squats down so the two of you are resting a few inches off the floor, his face buried just atop of your heart as he shakes and he cries and he allows himself the security to just crumble. To melt down. To kick his feet and hope his father feels the wring of the shackles against his own ankles. He hopes for the first time in his life, as you stroke the back of his head and shush him comfortingly, that they hurt him. 

Something changes between the two of you that day. You’re kinder to each other, and slowly to yourselves. It’s not outspoken, or rushed, or ravenous, but it begins to grow and grow and grow until it’s not only confusion and anguish that lies at the pit of Roman’s rotting core.

It starts with him becoming more comfortable showing affection to you around his family. Like you sitting on Roman’s lap at Shiv’s wedding reception, not listening to the speeches but trying to hide your giggles in Roman’s palms as he’s busy trying to take roses out of the centre piece and pin them through your hair. Or his full weight against you during the professional photos out on the balcony, and not even Shiv flicking her brother or Tom waving his hand at Roman to try and get him to behave could stop him from leaning backwards and planting a kiss underneath your jawline once the man said he was taking the final photograph. The two of you go out into the gardens later that night, trying to escape the ear-hammering loud beats of the D.J., and to try and make an early escape from the growing fight that seemed to be coming between Tom and Shiv’s old work acquaintance. With two beers and slightly tipsy heads, you sit down and talk on the dew-ridden grass, shoulders swaying against the other’s in time with the falling pine leaves. You felt like children again, and against the smouldering clash of fireworks that brandished the sky in bursts of red and gold, you both felt undying as well. He kisses you then, his hand reaching up to brush against the side of your cheek, his bottom lip teasingly tugging at your bottom lip and making you swat him away with a laugh. As you take his hand in your own and press a promise filled kiss against his middle knuckle, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to kiss you at your own wedding.

When you know he’s having a rough day at work, you like to try and sneak into his office and wrap your arm around his stomach, peppering kisses up and down his spine. Although he tries to shake you off like a startled starling at first, when he realises that you also managed to close the blinds on your way in without him noticing, he quickly relinquishes himself onto your barrage of adoration. He becomes all whiny, and soft, and needy, and all the things he’ll never allow himself to be outside of the security blanket of this closed off room. Although he still isn’t comfortable with anything too sexual, you won’t find him complaining as he wrestles you to the sofa. Once you’ve had the wind knocked out of your lungs, and Roman’s satisfied with how fully you’re splayed out on your back before him, he’ll go scuttling over to the end of the sofa and kneel down beside it. With a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he’ll swish his hips from side to side and come crawling up the sides of his body like a wolf slinking towards its dinner. Then he attacks: his tongue heavy and slick as he draws a hickey out just under the pulse point on your neck, pressing him firmly against you if you try to squirm away, chiding you with a warning. When it becomes too much, he lets you grip him up by his tie and walk him backwards until his thighs hit his desk. He jumps up to perch on it, and you stand between his legs as they tighten around you. You’re slow and careful as you loosen the material between your fingers, opening the first button of his shirt, and only the first so he doesn’t become too uncomfortable, with a satisfying loud pop. He whimpers as you lean over to scrape your teeth against the exposed skin, working your way up until your lips are tantalisingly hovering over the stubble on his jaw. He can feel your breath, hot and unsteady as it pants against him, but he still can’t stop the shiver that racks through him as he takes your hand and guides them under his shirt. With your hands firmly planted against his abdomen, you look at him quizzically, worried, but he just keeps his fingers on top of your own and answers you by sweetly pressing his top lip over his own. Just once, he wanted to feel safe, to feel okay with the love of his life touching his body.

The two of you have this game where you try to steal kisses from each other during the most inappropriate and annoying times possible. Oh, Shiv’s trying to talk to you in her kitchen about how her trip to England went? Roman barges in between the two of you, nearly making Shiv chop her thumb off, just so he can interrupt his sister by smirking against your mouth. Kendall wants to run through a presentation the two of them have to give the next morning? You’re grabbing onto Roman’s head as you run through the office, nearly giving him a heart attack as he scrambles backwards and allows you to drop his head back onto the cushion. With a full plant landing on his already pliant lips, Kendall’s left with a fed-up ‘hey’, yet unsurprised look of disappointment on his face as you run off back to your own desk.

When his father called Romie a moron in Prague, the look of desolation that crossed through his teary eyes was enough to make an angel weep. But it broke you even more when he pattered out of the dining area, walking shoulder to shoulder with you, but not saying anything. He was just staring down at his hands as if they were blotted: stained with specks of blood, and he would have to spend another sleepless night scrubbing them out of his skin. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it was the first time you were there to hear it too, and you weren’t going to let him get comfortable wallowing in that fearful acceptance. You grip onto his shoulder and steer him away from the milling crowd of sheep, stuffing him into a bathroom stall of the east wing of the hotel. Crowded together, Roman’s hamstring bumps against the porcelain as the two of you scoot about until you’re standing facing each other as best as you could. He looks at you, bleary eyed, and you look at him, bleary eyed. He breaks. Choking, gasping, breathless sobs, drowning in his misery. He grabs onto your shirt, clawing into the meat of your shoulders as if he’ll sink if he lets go. He keeps babbling through bubbles of spit about how he just wants to make his father proud, how he wants to be just like him, how he wants to prove that he can rule all this too. How he can never replace him. But he can. He wants it all to burn, but he wants to stand on the ruins and be the one to plant the foundations again. To make a better world, in honour of his father: in honour of the god of war that rages within his head. You press quick kisses on his sweaty forehead whenever you can, doing your best to dodge the quick turns of his head and wiping away the trails of tears with your thumb. All you can do in that moment, as you press your lips against the side of his ear and whisper it to the most intimate, lost parts of himself, is to let him know that you’re proud of him, no matter what happens next. You always have been, and even the ghost of Logan that possess Roman can’t stop that.

The sloppy kisses he gives you the next morning omg. When the two of you are sitting on your bedroom steps, and you’re biting your bottom lip in concentration as you try to do up the buttons of his dress shirt and make him look presentable in front of his family. Like a feral dog, he uses all of his leftover energy trying to nip and bite your fingertips, catching them on his tongue and pursing them against the roof of his mouth whenever he can.

You cannot convince me that Roman isn’t a jealous bitch. Like at Kendall’s fortieth birthday party, when he finally gives up trying to get up into his special little secret treehouse club, and Shiv has left him to go ham on the dance floor instead. You finally manage to convince him into relaxing for a fricking minute, making him join you at the bar. If someone tries to grab your waist, though, or butt into your conversation while the two of you are hyena giggling and seeing who can spurt more beer into the other’s face, Roman will full on goad them into fighting him. I mean, chest puffed out, crazed look in his face, hands up by his side until they send a weak shove in their general direction. It only ends when Roman either: near topples you to press a bracing kiss against your lips, or you dragging him off and having to hold him through the brackets of his arms. In the corner of the room, over by the sheets of warbling fire that seems to be coming from a central room, you stand behind his feet and wrap your arms up his chest. You can feel the fury roll off him, allowing him a moment to blow off the steam, until his head finally falls like putty and begins to synchronise his breathing to yours again after you hold your lips against the nape of his neck.

The kisses when he comes back after being held hostage (I am doing this so out of order apologies) omg??? He clambers sombrely to sit beside you on the deck of the boat, looking so out of place and serious as he leans back against the cushions. His siblings make fun of him, and tease him, and although he realises it’s harmless and he’ll see it as a key bonding moment a couple of years down the line, in the inside the typical Roy storm is brewing. He can’t say anything: just hides behind the jokes and snide comments so the words don’t choke him. You just feel his weight fall against yours little by little, until his hand reaches out and takes your own so tightly you know it’s going to bruise. The muscle in his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eye shut in an enduring pain at the sight of his father’s helicopter coming in to land. So, for that kind second before his life comes crashing back down around him again and he has to revert back, to hide behind the brick wall again, you take him over to the railings. It’s just the two of you, the warm sea salt stinging against your grimacing faces, and the ungodly sight of a near-naked Cousin Greg lying stretched out beside the slide below you. After a few goes, you manage to unlatch his claws from the white metal and replace them with your soothing palm, rubbing semi-circles against the back of his hand. You’re here. You’re here, with him. You’re not going to let him go it alone again, if he wants.

And he does. He could cry, he so desperately does. Some of the tension falls from his shoulders as he raises your joint hands to his lips and kisses them, gracing over every inch of skin his mouth can latch onto. 

You both know, in that moment, that it’s enough. It’s a promise. You’ll stick together, no matter what. You’ll love each other through everything, no matter what. You’ll stay around, no matter what or who he becomes.

Which brings me to... kissing him when you find out about the passing of his father. Standing on that boat, on the most joyous of occasions, feeling as if the whole world is shattering around you. Feeling miserable at the knowledge that deep down, some part of you is overjoyed by the news. Feeling even more downtrodden to realise, as the streaky eyes and thousand-stare faces of the Roy siblings flash back and forth in your line of sight as they pass the phone to each other, that Logan will never really be gone. They’re talking to his lifeless, empty shell through the speakers, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here in this room. He’s staring through their eyes. Talking in their quivering, harsh voices. Pounding through their feet. Tearing them apart as they try to cling onto each other. In their accusations that burst through their mouths innately. In the ordered instructions hurled out to keep business running smoothly. Hidden between the cracks of their voices as they sharpen their words and seethe them out between clenched teeth when the slightest chance of Logan even being dead is raised. He’s here, right now, as you let go of the death grip Kendall and Shiv have on both of your hands and catch sight of Roman rocking backwards and forth on the floor.

Giving a final squeeze of apology to Connor’s arm, you take Roman out of the room before he combusts. The whole air seems to be chilled: still, like something’s lurking unspoken between the threads of air. Like you’re leading Roman through the cold remains of a morgue. He wanders around for a minute, not even hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you. Not even crying. Not even speaking. For the first time in his life, he looks so much like his father. Too much. It scares you. Until eventually he just closes his eyes and trods over to the wall, thumping his forehead down on the cool metal until it burns. He holds his hand out to you, cufflinks gleaming like the edge of a knife past the ceiling lights, as if he’s offering a contract out to you. Apprehensively, your tentative hand creeps out and places itself gingerly on top of his own. He takes it, his dry lips latching onto you until the bridge of his nose is resting now upon your hand. The deal is done.

When you get back to your apartment though, and Romie finds out that Matsson wants him to fly out and meet him in Norway... that’s when Roman gets weird. Devastated. Freaks out. Grieves. You come out from your shower, wearing one of his suit shirts as your pyjama top, and he doesn’t even give a whistle of appreciation. Instead he’s crumpled on the floor by the canopy of your bed, cradling his knees to his chest, swearing into his kneecaps furiously. But you - you, oh god, you’re the only thing that can stop him from being swallowed up by Logan’s fury. You tilt his chin up during a tangled rush of expletives I don’t dare to copy down here, a scowl setting itself into his face like stone. It begins to soften when he realises you’re touching him, when he can feel the scrape of your nail around his jugular. You do your best to warble an unconvincing smile as you turn his head to the side, so you can better wipe your bottom lip against the edge of his throbbing mouth. You mould yourself to him, working at his pace as he winces at first, before slowly falling more and more easily into your grip. His hands loosen from his arms and fall onto your triceps as he deliriously tries to come back to himself through searching through the velvety warmness of your mouth: by swiping against your tongue and choking back his grievances as you pant into his open, waiting mouth.

You wake him up the next day with a fond kiss against the tip of his nose, and for the first time in a long while he smiles before he wakes fully up. The morning light cradles his bleary face as he sleepily runs a few fingers over the edge of your cheek, before cradling himself into your side again. He feels safe, weary, anguished, loved enough to fall asleep again, after pressing a few gentle licks behind your earlobes to try and hear you laugh again. Even through it all, his main concern is you. 

You trace his features while he restlessly dreams, although he squirms from time to time and alludes you to the fact that he’s secretly awake. A kiss here, between the junctions of wrinkles on his furrowed forehead. A kiss there, on the patchy stubble just underneath his left ear. A few there on the dark circles underneath his eyes, until you’re balancing over him and holding yourself up by the hands splayed over his pillow. He just needs to be reminded he’s beautiful from time to time. That he’s perfect. That he doesn’t need to try and be someone else. To encapsulate his father. 

But also like, Roman fucking hates Matsson. The way he looks at you during the whole field trip, like a hunter about to swallow its prey whole. Although the continuous comments about his family, and the two new Co-Ceo’s, and the legacy of his father make him burn down to the pit of his stomach with a white hot fury, he can deal with them if he would just leave you the fuck alone. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone but him looking at his soulmate with such adoration and lust in their eyes, so if that overgrown yeti gives you the up and down check out one more time he might actually just deck him in the middle of the retreat. He bites down on his tongue so harshly that his taste buds begin to bubble and prickle with blood, deciding it best to storm off and collect his thoughts before he lashes out and does something he can’t take back. You finally manage to track him down a little way off the beaten track, winding your way over some cobbled steps to find a branched alcove with nothing but a bench and a breath taking view of the gushing river down below. He’s hunched over with his fingers knotted over his knees, his lips so tightly drawn together that at first you don’t even spot the droplets of blood until he turns with a raised eye to look at you.

He knows it’s not your fault, so there’s no convincing or apologies when you join him. Just Roman finally getting all of that pent up sorrow and distress out. After an awkward moment of bouncing your foot up and down, you decide your best course of action is to just open your arm up to him again, like you used to do when you were children. At first he raises a confused eyebrow, before the realisation dawns over his face, and his features crumble. His lips purse, his throat bobbing as he heaves the tears back down, but he can’t stop his lips from trembling as he falls into your side. That kiss was the sweetest, as he leans his chin familiarly against your shoulder and bumps noses with your own. He frowns, sobbing at the knowledge that he can kiss you, finally, in the way he’s been yearning for all his life, and yet it all feels so wrong. So upside down. So far away from what he had dreaming. The freedom feels like a tether, and yet he juts his chin out and latches placidly onto your bottom lip anyway, the tears trickling down and falling between your mouths. 

It’s an act of defiance. A key sliding into the lock. He still can’t say it, but he won’t allow himself to smother the feeling anymore. The first sip of poison gliding down his throat, and Roman prays as he presses his forehead tearfully against your own, that it would kill the Logan part of him first.

[drpeppertummy]

finallyyyy finished my longest piece of writing to date. as suggested by anon: sunny going all out for mariannes birthday

[hunger, all-day stuffing, hand-feeding, not nearly enough belly rubs, just a dollop of bondage]

Sunny woke up with a groan, holding his rumbling belly. He almost regretted not eating dinner last night. In fact, any other day he'd have regretted it badly. Today, though, he had plans, and he slid out of bed to get dressed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he pulled on his jeans and was surprised by how sunken and hollow his tummy looked--perfect. He winced as it growled angrily at him, but it would simply have to wait. After a moment of thought, he pulled on a snug little T-shirt that was just a hair too short, gathered up his bags, and made his way out.

Marianne had been working on her birthday yesterday, but she was off today, and she was waiting happily when Sunny arrived at her door. She smothered him in a big, warm embrace, lifting him off the ground, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy birthday," he said, smiling sweetly up at her. As if on cue, his belly let out a long, whining growl, clenching up right against Marianne. She looked down, an expression of faux surprise on her face.

"Oh, Sunny honey," she exclaimed, taking him by the waist. "I hope you didn't go starving yourself on my account! Oh, look at that poor empty tummy…" She traced a finger along the edge of his ribcage, and he squirmed at the tickling sensation.

"I brought pancake stuff," he said, holding up the bags--not pancake mix, but ingredients to make them from scratch.

"Oh, you are such a little sweetheart!" She pinched his cheek and pulled him inside.

Sunny made Marianne's serving first, and she held him from behind while he cooked, gently kneading at his empty, aching tummy, chin resting on his soft, dark curls. The smell of the pancakes was torture for his hungry belly, and it groaned impatiently against her hands. Finally, her breakfast was ready, and he plated the perfect golden pancakes with a handful of berries and a generous pat of butter.

"Aren't you eating, pumpkin?" She looked concerned as he sat her down with the single plate.

"I'm gonna make mine now," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Griddle's too small for the both of us."

That had all been part of the plan, of course; the sound of his rumbling belly tantalized her ears as she ate, almost delightfully torturous, and when he finally joined her at the table, she took him by the wrist as he tried to pick up his fork. He looked up, wide-eyed.

"Let me feed you," she purred, taking the fork in her own hand. Obediently, he turned toward her, and she cut off a bite from the pancakes. She moved slowly, taking care to sop up a little extra syrup, and paused for a moment to let a few drips fall before slowly lifting it toward Sunny's mouth. He leaned in for the bite, but just as it was almost touching his lips, she pulled it back. He let out a tiny whine, looking puppy-eyed at her.

"Hold on a moment," she said, holding the fork just out of reach. With her other hand, she carefully brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "There, that was driving me nuts. You know how it is when something's just driving you nuts?" Sunny gave a small, absent nod, his big dark eyes fixed on the fork. Smiling, she brought it to him once again, and this time she let him eat. After not eating since lunchtime the day before, he was beyond ravenous, and he barely chewed the bite of pancakes before swallowing it with a thick gulp. His stomach let out a gurgle upon receiving it, and his mouth watered for more.

"Don't eat so fast," Marianne scolded gently. "You'll make yourself sick!"

"I can't help it," he pouted, looking up at her. "I'm hungry." As if to emphasize his point, his tummy rumbled pitifully.

"Aww, pumpkin. Don't you worry, we'll fix that." She picked up another forkful of pancakes, and this time, she didn't tease. She fed him slowly, though, slowly and steadily, leaving just enough time between each bite for him to get a little restless. Still, he didn't complain. He waited patiently for each piece, gazing sweetly up at her, and the waiting gradually became easier as his stomach slowly filled up. The gnawing ache of hunger faded out, replaced with the comforting weight of fluffy bread in his belly.

There was a good dent in the pancakes now, and Sunny's tummy didn't look nearly as hollow as it had when he'd arrived, but it was still too flat for Marianne's liking. She upped the pace just a tiny bit--the teasing wasn't as fun now that he wasn't starving anymore--not too fast, of course; she didn't want to upset his belly before he was as full as he could be. She kept a steady pace, and even as he began to feel full, he obediently opened up for each bite. The hem of his shirt, just a smidge too short, came to rest just barely above the waist of his jeans, and she was enticed by that almost-invisible sliver of skin. It wouldn't take much to broaden it enough to fit a kiss.

"Feeling full yet, cutie pie?" Sunny shook his head, chewing on a mouthful of pancake. "Good, because you've got a lot more to get through," she said, one hand on his side, thumb gently rubbing at his belly. Had he been a dog, his tail would have been wagging up a storm. He was, contrary to his own fib, feeling full, but not full enough to quit on her, not yet. The pressure in his belly was slowly rising, though, and he found himself falling behind enough that she had the fork upon his lips before he was ready for more. She smiled, noticing that small change.

"You're not slowing down on me, are you, sweetheart? I know you're not full yet, your tummy's still rumbling." She knew perfectly well that the soft rumbles coming from Sunny's belly were sounds of digestion, as well as the gurgles of his stomach shifting its contents around as it tried to make space for each new bite. Hunger was a distant memory now, fogged over by pleasant fullness, his belly growing snug around the big breakfast and finally beginning to peek out at its feeder from under his shirt. She placed a hand on it, enjoying the way each breath swelled that gentle curve out against her palm, and fed him another forkful.

Only a small fraction of his breakfast remained on the plate, and getting it down was growing more difficult. Each big bite upped the pressure in his tightening belly. The almost-nonexistent sliver of exposed skin had grown a good inch or two as his too-small shirt slowly rode up, and the waist of his jeans hugged his expanding tummy tightly. If he hadn't started out absolutely ravenous, he probably wouldn't have been able to finish, but, at long last, the final bite came, and it just barely fit into his tightly-stuffed stomach. He fell back against his seat with a sigh, belly bulging slightly out in front of him. Had it not been for his ill-fitting little outfit, the bloating might not have even been noticeable, but the tiny shirt displayed his full tummy beautifully, and Marianne leaned in to plant a kiss on the hairy skin.

"I was worried you weren't gonna be able to finish all that," she said, hands gently caressing his sides. "You're such a good boy, Sunny honey." His heart fluttered, and he leaned forward to hug her, belt creaking as it strained to hold his swollen tummy. She kissed him on the forehead, then on the cheek, and then his lips, still sweet and slightly sticky with syrup.

Marianne tried to clean up, but Sunny insisted on doing it himself--you're the birthday girl, he reminded her--and she relented, simply to enjoy the view of him tidying up with that cute little tummy slowing him down. She could tell he was stuffed by the careful way he moved, and especially by the clear discomfort on his face when he leaned down to pick up a dropped towel. She especially enjoyed the way his belly pressed against the counter as he washed the dishes.

Finally, the cleaning was done, and Sunny was glad to flop down onto the living room couch with Marianne. He wasn't uncomfortable--that would likely come later, if things went according to plan--but he felt stuffed to the gills, his stomach taut and heavy and straining slightly to hold the big breakfast. Marianne pushed his shirt up further, fully exposing the curve of his middle, and kissed it again, and again, and again, until the whole surface of his sensitive tummy tickled with the feeling of kisses.

Sunny was still feeling full when noon came creeping up on the clock, and while the bloating had eased up a little with digestion, his tummy was still puffed out when the question of lunch arose. He hadn't planned anything--he wasn't sure whether Marianne would want a break before their dinner plans--but her interest was still on him, and she had leftover pasta in the fridge that she'd made the night before.

"It was good last night, but I think it'll be even better now that it's sat a little," she said. While Sunny wasn't particularly hungry, pasta was a definite weakness of his, and he couldn't say no, especially to her. Fortunately, she scooped him out a more conservative portion, knowing his tummy wouldn't be able to take much and that he'd need to take it easy if they were going to go out for dinner. Still, when they sat down at the round kitchen table with their lunch, that small portion seemed like an awful lot.

She was right about the quality--the light sauce had thickened up overnight, and it clung deliciously to the hearty noodles. Sunny let out a little hum of approval at the first bite. His stomach was less approving, still working on moving the big breakfast along, but the pasta was easy to eat, not too rich or oily, and he was surprised at how eager he felt to scoop up another mouthful.

"This is great," he said through a mouthful of pasta.

"You know how I feel about good food," she beamed, ruffling his fluffy hair.

It wasn't long before Sunny started feeling the weight of the pasta, and he paused, setting his fork down and leaning back with a soft sigh. He'd only eaten about half of his lunch, but his tummy was poking out snug now, protruding adorably over the waist of his pants. He rested both hands on it--it felt drum-tight, softly grumbling away as it worked hard on all the bulky carbs that had been packed into it--and took a moment to breathe, hoping his stomach might settle a little so he could finish.

"You're lookin' awfully full," Marianne teased, reaching out to give his belly a pat. It made a solid thumping sound, and she was pleased at how firm it felt, like patting a fuzzy melon. She had already finished her own portion, her appetite and capacity being much larger than his.

"I don't think I can fit much more," he confessed, looking sheepishly up at her. "Do you want some?"

"Mm, I think I wanna see how far you can get first," she purred. "I bet that cute little tummy can hold a few more bites, hm?" That was all the encouragement he needed. He picked up his fork, feeling just reenergized enough to scoop up another big forkful and keep going.

He made it through a few more bites with enthusiasm before the stretched feeling in his stomach slowed him down again. His belly was bulging hard now, and he could feel the enormous mass of carbs like a boulder jammed just under his ribs. Marianne rested a hand on it, rubbing the taut skin gently, taking in the way it strained just a little bit tighter with each breath. Sunny swallowed one more bite, then set his fork down once again.

"I'm too full," he sighed, falling limp in his seat.

"I think full is an understatement," said Marianne. Truthfully, he could probably have forced down a little more, but he didn't want to completely spoil their dinner plans. The way his belly felt right now, he wasn't too sure he hadn't already. He didn't feel queasy, but the pressure pushing out inside him was almost painful. A burp slipped out, followed by a little groan of discomfort.

"Poor Sunny honey, you look like you're about ready to pop." Marianne gently did his belt, and then the button of his jeans. She didn't have to unzip his fly; his tummy pushed it wide open without help. He let out a soft sigh of relief. He hadn't realized just how much his pants had been digging into his belly until now, and even through his thick belly hair, a sore red mark was visible around his waist.

Marianne swept him off to bed for an early afternoon nap, and they lay together in each other's arms, soothed by the gentle gurgling and grumbling of Sunny's overstuffed belly as it worked. With his pants now off and his shirt pushed up under his chest, his distended tummy was on full display, bulging absurdly from his skinny little frame, and Marianne couldn't keep away from it, rubbing and kissing and patting even as Sunny drifted in and out of consciousness. He was a limp, sleepy puddle in her arms, utterly blissed out despite the ache in his belly.

The two spent a good few hours together, snuggling and fooling around, Sunny taking care to treat Marianne with as much love as he could give. He was worried he might be too stuffed to make the most of dinner, but he managed to work off a good bit of that overstuffed feeling, and by the time he was on his way out so the two could take a break and freshen up before dinner, he determined that the evening would work out perfectly. He was still bloated enough that she could feel his belly pressing out against her as they hugged goodbye, and there was no hope of his shirt covering it all the way, but he didn't feel like he was about to burst anymore. They exchanged one final kiss, and, promising to pick her up in a couple hours, Sunny was on his way back home.

The first thing Sunny did upon returning was flop down onto the couch with a groan. While the pressure in his belly had eased up in the past few hours, he still felt bloated and weighed down, and he lay sprawled out on the couch for a few minutes just catching his breath and settling. He knew if he stayed there long enough he'd fall asleep and miss his date, though, so, reluctantly, he pushed himself up once again and dragged himself off to the bathroom for a long shower. The hot water helped to soothe his tummy, and when the heat and the steam finally overwhelmed him and he was ready for cool air once more, he emerged feeling unexpectedly rejuvenated. Still, he knew he'd be in trouble if he didn't take it easy, and once he was dried off, he relaxed until he was ready to get dressed and head out once more.

When Marianne answered the door later that evening, she almost didn't recognize the handsome little thing standing before her. He was dressed nicely in a snappy floral button down and corduroy pants complete with a heart-shaped belt buckle, and his hair was combed back out of his face. She noted with amusement that his clothes were a little looser-fitting than his usual style--she supposed he'd need that extra wiggle room--but his swollen belly was still visible. He greeted her with a small bouquet and a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh my goodness, look at you," she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tight. He couldn't hold back a groan of discomfort at the compression of his still-bloated tummy, but he gladly returned the hug, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Hope you're hungry," he said as they walked to the car. He'd talked Laurie into letting him borrow her decrepit minivan, fittingly named the Shit Brickhouse, but Marianne didn't care that their ride was considerably less spiffy than her date.

"You never told me where we're going," she said, half-questioning.

"Wouldn't be a surprise if I did, would it?" He leaned up to give her a peck on the cheek and opened her door.

Marianne only knew that Sunny was taking her somewhere nice, and she'd made sure to dress the part, wearing a cute pink dress and bright yellow kiss-shaped earrings. When he pulled up to the Maplewood, she was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, I haven't been here in years," she said, excited. Not only did she recall the food being excellent, one of the interesting things she remembered about the restaurant was that they'd start the table off with both a warm loaf of bread and a dish of garlic bread, as well as a big salad. Glancing down at Sunny's belly, which was still poking out sweetly against his shirt, she suspected he'd be feeling stuffed before his entree even hit the table.

The two were seated at a little table near the back, out of sight of most of the restaurant, and it wasn't long before they were greeted with fresh bread and salad. Smiling slyly, Marianne cut Sunny a nice big piece before getting herself one.

"You couldn't have picked a better place," she said, passing him a slice of garlic bread as well. "You're a doll, Sunny honey." He gave her a fond smile and dished out a plate of salad for each of them.

Marianne's prediction had been generous--not only was Sunny full before they got their dinners, he was full by the time they were finished looking over the menu. Still, he ordered a saucy seafood pasta dish, as did she. He tried to lay off the bread until they had their entrees, trying to conserve some tiny scrap of space, but it was hard not to pick at it, especially with the salad dressing to dip it in, and when the waiter returned with a steaming plate for each of them, Sunny wasn't hungry in the slightest. He was determined to put forth his best effort for Marianne, though, and geared himself up for the first bite.

The pasta was delicious, and the sauce was mercifully light. Despite his full stomach, it wasn't difficult to eat a good amount, although he certainly felt the space it took up as it expanded his already carb-packed belly even further. With breakfast and lunch still hanging around in his system, his guts felt stretched taut, and he was very aware of the sensation of his belly growing fuller and fuller with each bite.

Marianne, who was having no trouble at all with her appetite, watched Sunny's tummy as she ate. His shirt wasn't as tight as the ones he usually wore, but it was certainly straining around his middle. His belly looked absolutely packed to the brim, bulging over the waist of his pants, tensing with each shallow breath, too distended to properly expand. She could see the full weight of everything he'd eaten today pushing out the walls of his belly, and the thought of the pressure building in his stomach as he ate nearly set her ablaze.

Sunny ate slowly, trying to pace himself. He knew there was no way he'd be able to finish the full plate of pasta without exploding, but he was determined to get down as much as he could for Marianne. Fortunately, miraculously, he still didn't feel ill, just bloated to the point of aching, and he hoped to keep it that way. If any nausea set in, his after-dinner plans would be shot.

"Y'know, Sunny honey, you really are the best," Marianne said fondly, smiling at him with her chin in her hand. "I hope you won't go making yourself sick on my account. Your poor tummy looks like it's about to pop."

"I'm alright," he said, and she gave him a skeptical look. "Honest!" His stomach would have told a different story--stop feeding me, I'm about to burst!--but for the most part, he meant it. He would squeeze in a few more bites, but he intended to quit while he was ahead; the real finale would come later.

The final few bites came and went, each more difficult to swallow down than the last, and he finally couldn't take any more. His stomach felt stretched to its absolute limit. Despite having worn his belt a hole looser than usual, the heart-shaped buckle was pressing hard into his belly, and the buttons on his shirt were in as much danger of bursting as he was. He wanted to lean back and free his aching tummy from its constraints, but it would have to wait until they were home, or at least in the car. The adoring look on Marianne's face made the discomfort worth every moment.

Sunny was a little embarrassed to walk back through the restaurant with his belly bulging so noticeably, but once they were back in the car he undid his belt and his fly with a heavy sigh of relief. His stomach let out a low grumble as it settled, and he carefully buckled up and began the drive home. Marianne kept a comforting hand on his belly throughout the ride, taking in the unbelievable tautness and the way it tensed up and rumbled each time a much-needed burp slipped out.

"Oh, Sunny honey, you're gonna need one hell of a belly rub tonight," she said sympathetically. She was eager to be the one to tend to his overtaxed tummy. Out of all the dates they'd enjoyed together, she couldn't recall ever having seen him as stuffed as he was right now. No longer held in place by his pants, his shirt had begun to ride up over the impressive curve of his belly, and she would have sworn his belly button was almost popping out.

"I made something for you, if it's alright," he said as they came to his door.

"Aww, sweetheart. You really know how to spoil a girl," she said, holding him gently around the waist. He opened it up and followed her inside, then led her to the kitchen. Waiting on the counter inside a nice glass dish was a big beautiful chocolate cake, topped with strawberries and Sunny's best attempt at nice handwriting in bright pink frosting: "Happy Birthday Marianne!" Sitting beside the dish was a roll of red satin ribbon as bright and shining as the berries.

"Oh, Sunny, it's wonderful," she exclaimed, and she turned to plant a big kiss on his forehead. "Dare I ask what the ribbon's for?"

"Whatever you want it to be for," he said, smiling innocently up at her.

Marianne had a way with ribbon, and when she was finished tying Sunny to the kitchen chair, he looked like a beautiful present, decorated with perfect bows fit for a shop window display. His big dark eyes followed her as she worked, gazing sweetly up at her, and finally she pulled another chair up before him.

"You're not really still hungry, are you, pumpkin?"

"There's always room for dessert," he quipped, and she laughed.

"Well, if you insist, I guess it would be heartless to leave you hanging." She cut a slice from the cake and sat down, close enough for her knees to interlace with his. She plucked the strawberry from the top and let him take a bite of it, then finished the rest of the berry off herself before scooping up a forkful of cake. It was a small forkful; as much as she'd have liked to stuff the whole thing right into him, she knew his belly must have been teetering at its limit, and though she'd gladly take care of him, she didn't want to push him into a full-blown bellyache.

"Now, you just let me know when you're full, cutie pie," she said, "otherwise, we'll stop when this bow comes undone." She tapped on his drum-tight belly, which she'd wrapped the ribbon tightly around and finished off with a big beautiful bow. He nodded obediently, and when she brought the fork to his lips, he opened up.

She fed him slowly, pausing here and there to give him sips of ginger ale between bites. His stomach let out tiny gurgles with each swallow, straining to fit anything more, and, incredibly, he could feel the ribbon around his middle growing tighter. He didn't think his belly could possibly have expanded any further after dinner, but the ribbon pulling into his bulging sides as his stomach pushed the bow out further was undeniable proof of it. Still, he didn't think it could stretch far enough to undo the bow; he'd burst before his belly could get that big.

Bite by bite, the plate slowly emptied and Sunny's stomach, impossibly, grew fuller. For a moment he thought he might actually finish the piece she'd cut, but it would be close. She rubbed at his side with one hand as she fed him, plate sitting on her lap. She was astonished that he hadn't tapped out yet. There was only a small chunk of cake left on the plate. Gradually, that chunk diminished, each strained gulp punctuated with a soft moan of discomfort, and finally, there was only one bite left.

"Oohh… I don't think I can do it," he groaned, head tipping back. "I'm too f--" He was cut off by a hiccup, and, to both their astonishment, the jolt knocked the knot of slippery ribbon loose and the bow fell undone. They stared down at his belly in shock. It was remarkably distended, jutting out alarmingly beneath his ribs and bulging at the sides, pushing out so far in front of him that he wouldn't have been able to see his feet if he were standing. They looked up, eyes meeting, and laughed.

"Sunny honey, you're incredible," she grinned.

[crowpickingss]

Taste

hook x gn! reader

summary: After your breakup hook can’t stop thinking about you, and when word comes around so does he

warnings: breakup, gossip

a/n: loosely based of the sabrina carpenter song, sorry for being inactive

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The hardest part of a relationship was the breakup. It always was and will forever be for you. However when your longest relationship ended everything felt different. Hook was not one to show much affection and as much as you pestered him too his commitment stayed the same. But the rush you got when he did show affection made everything worth it.

It was like clockwork the moment you two parted he was seeing kissing his ex. The VKS enjoyed your company a lot but after you and Hook split they stopped talking to you. It was sad for you to lose a bunch of friends but especially Morgie, you too had become close but when he had since been avoiding you.

Luckily you had a pair of ears or better known as Bridget. As much as she hated to admit it she was obsessed with gossip. So the moment she heard Morgie talking about you she dashed to your dorm. The frantic knocking on your door surprised you and scared you at the same time.

You opened the door and tried to greet Bridget but she pushed past you. She started talking so fast to the point where you couldn’t tell if she was speaking or just making noise “Bridget, slow down what’s going on” Her little squeal of excitement intrigued you more “Morgie was talking about you” You were confused “Why was he talking about me, I barely see him” You pulled your chair out from under your desk and sat down “He was talking to Maleficent, apparently Hook has been talking about you non-stop”

This shocked you, it was abnormal for Hook to talk about anyone else but himself let alone you “I also heard that his partner is going to break up with him” Your jaw dropped, he had been so eager to go back to his ex and now his ex was dumping him “You know maybe you too could get back together” You rolled your eyes “He doesn’t like me like that Bridget, you saw how he acted around me” She sighed “Can’t you believe in love for once”

Just then your dorm was filled with the sound of knocking. Curious you stood up and opened the door. Standing there was Hook and a bouquet of flowers “Hook? What are you doing here” Bridget gasped when she heard Hooks name “I- uh these are for you” He shoved the bouquet into your face “Thanks I guess” You took the bouquet out of his hands “I know you Proabbly don’t like me very much so I’ll just say it quickly, I love you like a lot and I was wondering if you wanted to get back together” Bridget squeal pierced your ears as an arrow pierced your heart “Y-you don’t have to say yes, I just wanted to ask”

You took a deep breath “If I say yes, will you be willing to be more you know like a boyfriend” He smiled lightly “Yes one hundred percent, look I know I was a bad boyfriend I was blinded by my ex dumping me that I didn’t see you” His confession warmed your heart slightly “I miss you a lot, I’m sorry for how I treated you” You smiled “Apology and confession accepted” His smile grew ten times wider. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug “I’m not the only one who misses you” You laughed “They all told me to come here, so I guess I have them to thank” Bridget ran up behind you “Oh Bridget you heard that” She nodded “I knew my cards wouldn’t fail me”

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[mdanon027]

For a long-last friendship. | Aaron Hotchner x FemaleReader

For a long-last friendship. | Aaron Hotchner x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Aaron wants to make it up to Jack, so they go to the zoo. Not expecting to end up having a fun day with his team agent. (Inspired by the Prompt go to the zoo and point out the coolest animals by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 1878. (I got carried away for a Prompt)

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

After one of the most exhausting and longest cases he had this year, Aaron needed to make it up to Jack.

Being apart from his son was difficult, specially when he was supposed to be the main care giver. Jack had spent the last two weeks with his aunt Jessica. He made a promise to spend every single free moment he had, to devote quality with him.

Jack was becoming a happy and curious kid again. He was in his animal phase; his new favorite animal were lions. In school, he was learning about them. Jack asked him weeks ago to go to the zoo.

Being the first whole free weekend, he had in months, he needed a little more sleep than normal. As a consequence, now they were late and the line for the tickets was longer than he expected. Jack was excitedly talking about some animal facts he learned with his aunt Jessica.

“Hotch?” Someone said by his side, by reflect he took Jack’s hand. He turned around to see Y/N, one of his team agents.

“Y/LN?” He said surprise to see her there on her free day.

“You can call me Y/N, we are not working.” She said smiling.

“Who is she, daddy?” Jack asked getting behind Aaron.

“You must be Jack, isn’t it?” She said getting down to match his height. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Y/N. I work with your dad.” She extended her arm to greet him.

Jack looked up to his dad, Aaron just nod.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” Jack shyly said taking her hand.

“You have been here for a long time?” Y/N asked them, she was by their side, outside the line.

“The line it’s taking longer than we expected.” Aaron said while looking to his son.

“We planned to get earlier, but daddy got glued to his pillow.” Jack said, joking while looking up to his father. Aaron could feel his face getting warm.

“Have you considered he may be a tiger?” Y/N asked Jack.

“A tiger?” Jack was getting interested in the conversation.

“Yep, did you know they sleep up to 16 hours a day?” She added.

“Tigers sleep that much?” Aaron didn’t know his agent knew animal facts.

“Yes, they are also nocturnal animals, maybe he stayed up at night. Probably working on the papers for the last case we had.” She told Jack. “Have you seen him up at night?” “No, I’m always asleep when he arrives home, “Jack told her in low voice. “He may be a tiger.” Looking suspicious to his dad.

“We can get faster over there; I have a members card.” She said while taking her pass.

“It’s not necessary Y/N, we can wait, isn’t it Jack?” He didn’t want to interfere with the free day of his team member.

“But it’s taking centuries Dad!” Jack growled.

“No worries, I come a lot, so I have some free passes. Let’s go!” She said, while guiding them through the main entrance.

They went through security, and Jack was waiting for his dad to come closer to finally take his hand.

“Awww! You are like otters.” She said to Jack. “Otters hold hands so they don’t float afar from each other, well they do that while sleeping, but it’s really wise of you keep your dad near Jack.” She said Smiling.

“Did you know they swim really fast? I can do that too! You remember dad, I’m the fastest in my swimming class!” he said taking both, Aaron and Y/N by their hands.

“Yes buddy, you are the fastest!” Aaron says proudly. “Thanks again Y/N, you didn’t have to use your passes on us.”

“Oh, its fine Hotch, you always invite the meals when we are out, let me invite you this. And I’m with the fastest swimmer in town, it’s an honor” She smiled.

Jack pulls his dad down, and started to whisper something to him.

“Jack the Otter wants to know if you would like to spend the day with us? If you don’t mind.” He asked, if his son was feeling happy today, he was willing to make him as happy as possible.

“That would be lovely! Of course, thanks for including me in your plans Jack.” She said beam back to the Hotchners.

They started to walk to main map of the zoo. Jack had a plan of the first animal they should explore.

“Have you been to this zoo before, Jack?” Y/N asked him, while he approach the map, looking carefully.

“Nop, it’s our first time here.” He said exited. “You know it really well?” “Kinda, I know where the animals are, but its really big. So, we are going to stick together like the Beluga Whales, ok?” She told to the little kid.

“Beluga Whales?” Aaron asked her.

“Yes, they travel in pods.” She said to him.

“What’s a pod, dad?” Jack question his dad.

“It means, they travel in groups Jack.” Explained Aaron.

“That’s why you need to keep close to your dad Jack.” Y/N look down to Jack. “They are also known to have last long friendships, most of the times they spend their whole life with their pods.” She said smiling to Jack.

They started the journey. Jack and Y/N started talking non stop about the animals they where watching, Aaron was just amused by the facts both of his pod where saying.

“Why do you know a lot about animals, Y/N?”

“When I was younger my Godparents where zoologist and they used to work at the zoo, so I spent a lot of time of my childhood and teens there. I loved it! My parents always gifted me animals’ toys, specially plushies, they still send me some.”

“Really? You still collect them?” He was speechless, at this moment of his young life, he just wanted to know about all about animals.

“Yes, I just bought this tiny crocodile and just saw a Beluga Whale plush at the gift store, but maybe another time…” She said while showing the tiny plushie on her backpack. “Whenever you want, I can show you my collection, I have some at my apartment.” She spoke.

“You can also come to our house, right dad?” Aaron just nod, smiling to his son. “I’m starting my own collection; I have 20 animals so far!”

“Wow! That’s a lot of them.” She said while getting close to the aquarium part of the zoo.

The main animal on the aquarium exhibition was the Octopus.

Jack started to asked if she new any facts about them, she started to answer. Once in front the tank, Aaron got the chance to say his fun fact.

“Now the Octopuses are becoming friends?” Aaron said while looking at them.

“We are not octopuses daddy; we are Beluga Whales.” Jack said while laughing.

“Octopuses collect shells with their eight tentacles buddy, both of you collect plushies.” He said smiling, he was mesmerized at how Y/N and Jack were getting along.

“It’s that truth, Y/N?” Its not that Jack didn’t trust his dad facts, but at this moment he knew Y/N was an expert.

“He is right Jack, but mostly shiny things, they like to decorate their homes.” She told him.

“I think Y/N its an octopus.” Hotch told to Jack.

“Why so Hotch?” She asked her boss.

“Your desk its full of tiny toys, shiny post its, postcards, and I can swear there’s a photo of you with a baby alpaca, your keys are full of keychains from almost every city we have been on a case. You always travel with a small pink hippopotamus plush, and try to get a plush every time you see one, I didn’t realize it was for your collection. Still…” He couldn’t continue because she started to talk over him.

“You are profiling me?” She said amazed at the tiny details her boss had taken notes about her.

“It’s not profiling, I just know my pack.” He said smiling.

“A pack?” Jack looked up to his dad.

Y/N was amazed with this new side she got to know about her boss, always so serious and professional being chill outside the field. She had seen him laugh and smile before, even getting drinks with the team after cases, but never seen him so carefree.

“Jack, I think your dad may be a lion…” Once again, she was designating animals.

“A lion?” Aaron asked her,

“Why a lion?” Jack was getting curious.

“Well, he is an amazing leader. When we are out catching the bad guys, he always come with a great strategy and always listen to our ideas. He always tells us what to do, some times he can be bossy, “she started to laugh at the smirk on his face, now she was profiling him, “but it’s always to keep us safe. Sometimes he intimidates me…” She said joking with Jack.

“Why my daddy scares you?” Jack asked amused of watching his dad with growing smile.

“It’s not that he scares me, but he is kinda serious, with that stern look, when he’s angry at someone that it’s treating us bad, but that’s a quality of the lions. It demonstrates his discipline and authority as the Unit Chief.” She finished. It was a long time since he was profiled.

“That means I’m a lion, daddy! Just like you!” He exclaimed exited, that his dad had the qualities of his favorite animal.

They kept walking through the zoo, Aaron decided to join with the fun facts he knew about animals. But he was impressed with the amount of information Y/N kept in her brain about them. She was like an encyclopedia.

When the day was over, they separated ways.

Jack made Y/N promised to keep in touch, so they could keep talking about animals and to hang out in the near future. Aaron was happy with the new friend his son and him just made.

They learned more about animals from Y/N than from the zoo charts, so they decided to get their new friend a gift.

------

Next Monday, Aaron was the first to arrive to the office. He had the well deserve peaceful weekend having fun with his son and surprising with Y/N. He had only known her on the field, a smart and excellent agent. He didn’t get enough time to spend knowing his team, and he was grateful by knowing another side from her.

Strategically placed on her desk a Beluga Whale Plushie and a drawing of three Beluga Whales. A big one, a medium one and a small one, they were holding fins and with Jack’s handwriting.

“For a long-last friendship.”

-Jack and Aaron :)

He couldn’t wait for her to arrive. He knew for a fact, that she was going to like it.

She arrived to the office, and staid speechless.

Her smile could light whole Quantico, Virginia.

She turned around looking for him, until she spotted him looking at her from his office, smiling. His agent just whispered a “Thank you dear friend.”

She added the new piece of art to her board, while hugging the new member of her collection.

She was overjoyed.

He was glad his new friend liked the gift. And he did hope, their new friendship last long.

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! I normally don’t write stuff, I just read/comment/reblog fanfics, but now I’m in my Criminal Minds Era, so it’s my first prompt I ever write! It’s being a year since I posted an original fanfic, I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

Special thanks to some of the plushies I keep buying every time I got to the zoo/aquarium.

[fleeting-sanity]

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Thank you to @swtorramblings for proof-reading!

He slept for the longest time in his entire life, dreamless. His body was still weak; in this year alone, there were too many times where he had to be rescued and nursed back to life. They kept insisting on repaying his kindness that way, which took him back to his own words of extending compassion to others. His eyes stared at his foot, and he told himself to not waste this chance.

But his senses told him that things were bad out there. He wanted to leave Dantooine as soon as possible, believing himself to be fully cured and fit to resume duty. However, he received a surprise guest early the next day.

“Hey. Just wanted to stop by to check on you. I heard from your sister.”

“Thank you. I’m touched you thought of me. Um… how are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’m fine, I just found a lead on my objective. Also, Arn’s going to be Knighted next week, just wanna tell you that.”

“That’s amazing! I’ll be sure to attend and give my commendations.”

Tau chuckled. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll try to holo you if you can’t make it.”

It always warmed his head whenever he was around Tau’s presence, for reasons unknown. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, or her beautiful features. Further into their conversation, Tau looked like she just realized something. She hesitated for a second before delivering the news.

“Have you watched the broadcast? I can hardly believe that Vaylin is actually alive, after all this time. But I’m glad she won’t be a problem anymore. She and her brother might be sentenced harshly.”

To say that Riornivo was gobsmacked was an understatement. His reaction surprised her, and they were both speechless for a few seconds. The Barsen’thor snapped out of it, embarrassed by the figurative potential of a fly entering his gaping mouth. “I, um… she’s… alive?”

“You seem… surprised.” Tau could sense that wasn't the right word, but asking more felt like prying. The atmosphere turned awkward, when they were mingling with mirth just then. She bid farewell to her fellow Jedi after stating her intention of resuming her mission.

He had to take a moment to sit and digest the information presented to him. That was what his senses were telling him, he thought. Vaylin’s anonymity was never promised permanence, but he didn’t think it would be revealed this soon. Anxiety scoured his psyche, wanting to meet her immediately. There was another thought of how it came to this, which led him to phoning his twin brother. The first few dials failed with a busy signal.

“Red.”

“Can we talk later? I’m-”

“Please, Red. I know-” “I know you know. I think it’s best if we talk in person. I’ll come there tomorrow, don’t go anywhere.”

Rionnic quickly ended the call, feeling unprepared to talk about the situation. He was fortunately saved from follow up calls by his sister knocking on Riornivo’s door. Vyria immediately sighed upon looking at her brother’s facial expression. Before he could utter a single word however; “Hold on. Just… hold on a minute okay? Let me go get my tea real quick!”

Vyria returned as fast as she went. Seeing her face meek and frowny made Riornivo rein back on his intense desire for the truth. This would be a calm and rational conversation–the basics of being a Jedi. 

“Yeah, alright, okay, you’re going to talk about her. Look, before anything, I haven’t been on Odessen since I got here. This is all I’ve heard from Red. She’s safe with her brother. She turned herself in, no casualties–no fuss. I think her Mom’s with the grandkids. Uhh… what else is there…”

“Thank you. Please be at ease, Snowy. I see that you’re quite flustered.”

His observation was confirmed by her taking a big gulp from her cup. “Oh, oh yeah… one more thing. She uh, she doesn’t wanna see anyone. Including you.”

Riornivo nodded. Frankly, his reaction wasn’t what Vyria was expecting.

“Huh… okay, here's some advice you didn’t ask for,” as Vyria’s index finger shot up, her face relaxing. “Maybe this time, you should heed her request–leave her alone, and don’t play into your feelings for her, okay? Remember the Code.”

“W-what feelings? I’m just concerned–didn’t you say Arcann was there too?”

“Ugh, you’re so bad at lying. But you reaaaallly have to listen. Give her space and time,” and then Vyria got up from her seat to leave; “Oh, and… could you uh, bake me a Bestine Threeberry pie again? The one with the golden sauce.”

He gave his sister an affirmation with a chuckle, but not a second later it reminded him of the taste of Vaylin’s cooking. His smile faded. He couldn’t help but feel as if she was plunged back into the worst time of her life all over again, undoing the progress they both have been through. Whether the latter part was true or not, all he could do was nothing, and it corroded him inside.

Perhaps he should write her a letter. With ink.

The first few drafts stacked the refuse bin, but then he remembered to not leave any trace of correspondence between them. Every letter started with an apology. What he wanted was to clarify his feelings towards her, but the concept sounded a little too illogical for him. He tried rationalizing the resistance towards it by two fronts: that it was not what Vaylin needed at that time of strife, and he wanted to keep it to himself. Vaylin deserved more than a man such as him. He kept delaying finishing the letter, as life kept borrowing him away from her.   

But the letter was smuggled in anyway, now in Vaylin’s hands. She kept staring at it, almost going a full day without opening it.

For a cell so completely anti-Force, the lack of intense surveillance perplexed her. Was the Alliance undermanned or under-funded? But it was definitely better than her cell in Nathema. She recalled how there was no privacy inside the glass-walled cage–just another factor designed to break her will. There were no taunts, no torture, no experiments, no conditioning. It was more than she deserved, she thought. 

There were no visitors allowed as per her request, except for Serrus, who handed her the letter. 

Dear Vaylin,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite your circumstances. I want to apologize for the way we parted ways that day. I wish things would have been different… You’ve been an invaluable lesson for me, and I don’t want it to stop. But if you wish to not see me, I respect that. If it’s the opposite instead, I will eagerly fly to your side. You can always confide in me about anything.

Your nieces are healthy and loved. I visited Aryuni and Senya the other day. Understandably, they were deprived of the spirit and drive they once had, but I’m going to help them through it. I’ll make sure they’d always have everything they need without assuming Arcann’s role. Speaking of him, we talked recently about logistics and the reason behind your decision. Without talking to you directly, I can only take Arcann’s words with discretion. We’re working together with your defense team for the trial.

I know you want to be responsible for your actions, but I can’t help believing that you deserve compassion, or another chance living the life free of your father’s dominion and isolation. 

I apologize if my words offend you… or come across as patronizing. You are a strong, independent, insightful, and talented woman. The more I get to know you, the more I admire you. I treasure the times we spent together, and I thank you for being the person you are.

Warmest regards,

Riornivo

She scanned the letter repeatedly to look for something more obvious. It left her feeling rejected yet again, it was as if he was saying nothing while skirting around the subject they should be discussing between them. Of course, the news about her nieces and the outside world was a relief to hear, but it was nothing Serrus had not already relayed to her. She crumpled then threw the letter, annoyed at his empty yet honeyed words. It was unexplainable, but she didn’t feel abandoned this time. The people who mattered to her were all in her corner, and she was sure they’d understand her condition of wanting solitude. Especially that stupid Jedi.

She picked the letter back up, straightened it and kept it inside a cabinet.

Shortly after, a group of Knights and droids delivered additional amenities for her. Even without looking inside their helmets, she could tell that they were on high alert, some nervous, some afraid of her presence. The only words exchanged were that of the Paladin stating their purpose then excusing themselves.

There was an easel with art supplies, a holonet receiver, some gardening equipment, and a datapad. Most of these objects could hypothetically be used as tools for escaping, and she was sure Rionnic knew of that. But from her point of view, this generosity felt unusual for someone like him. Was it his twin brother instead? 

She ignored the new additions to her cell and went to sleep.

From the next day onwards, there were interrogations after another. She mostly spaced out during them, unable to disperse that foggy layer made of his words. Another part of her desperately reached around the darkness for the remorse she should be feeling. 

“Vaylin? Are you listening?”

“It was Arcann who ordered it. I’m just an observer.”

“And what about Voss? Exactly six months and twenty one days after the… five worlds.”

“That was me.”

She admitted to every single crime and atrocities. That wasn’t a popular move with her defense team, but they were aiming for damage reduction anyways. Those discussions with them were droll to her–she wanted to get it over with while leaning towards capital punishment. An instance stood out to her though; one of her lawyers had a wild idea of her seeking asylum in the Empire. He pitched the idea as a gamble: that maybe she would be feared and respected over there, instead of facing consequences. Another lawyer, a Neimoidian woman named Britu, laughed at that.

“You’re kidding, right? Don’t waste our visitation time. Focus on our case!”

She wouldn’t want that anyways; she’s had enough of being used as a weapon. When asked about Arcann’s choice, the lawyers responded by working towards a life sentence. Understandable, as his twin daughters still needed their father. The next days proceeded as usual for her; utilizing the tools she was given with. She painted an abstract piece depicting broken wings representing light amidst the blood and darkness.

Deep down, she felt a vague unfulfillment looming over her heart. 

She waited until there was a break from building her case to utilize the tools given to her for escaping. The note she left stating that she would return to her cell after a few days would probably be ignored, but that’s their problem. All of her escape attempts failed at Nathema, but Odessen felt like it was intentionally unguarded. Was this a ploy of the evil twin? To make her punishment even worse, perhaps?

Being a new master of disguises, she successfully got off the planet by sneaking into an aid shipment and landed on Dubrillion. The feeling of distributing aid to the people she massacred was indescribable. Her hands were shaking. A child amputee was among the ones receiving food from her hands. The girl smiled and thanked her.

“Auntie? Why are your hands shaking?”

It wasn’t just her hands, but her voice as well. “U-uh I, I just… haven’t had b-breakfast yet! Don’t worry about me!”

It wasn’t as if she hadn't seen an amputee before–the example was one of her own blood. But the sight and smell of the destruction did something different to her this time. The way the child hurdled back to wherever she came from, limping and alone. Her co-workers ushered her to resume the distribution upon seeing her idle, but she couldn’t function well due to the overwhelming feeling. She tried defining what it was.  

She was scared of those victims. 

Soon it was break time for the Alliance crew. Her coworkers barely ate anything, and instead spent the time preparing for more aid and helping the restoration effort–the latter had the most participants of the Force-wielding nature, including her. Her Knight disguise allowed her to freely utilize the Force, but cautiously so as to not alert the others of her power. Brick by brick, she reconstructed some destroyed houses and infrastructures. While most of the Alliance personnel retreated to rest their tired bodies, she kept on going. Throughout the process, anxiety never loosened its grip on her. It didn’t matter how many buildings she helped to repair, the dread would not go away.

As the day turned to dusk, she was again approached by the girl from earlier. 

“Hi auntie… we’ve been watching you for so long. Would you want to join us and rest? Please? Aren’t you tired?”

The sweetness of the girl’s tone made her finally stop. When the girl escorted her with the hand on her remaining arm, it made her weak. It didn’t help that the girl almost resembled her twin nieces. She altered her voice as best as she could to ask for the girl’s name.

“My name’s Aulia. What’s yours?

“Um… Syl. You can call me Syl.”

She didn’t dare say a word throughout their short journey to the encampment. There she saw children playing joyfully despite their circumstances. Some Republic soldiers were cooking food en masse, some medics applying tourniquets, some were preparing for a funeral not far from there. 

“He survived initially–for almost a year... Which is remarkable despite the lack of resources we have to help him. The last of his family. But we’ve let him know that he’s loved and remembered…”

The hushed eulogy she overheard distracted her from Aulia who handed her a bread. She apologized sheepishly, but couldn’t think of an excuse as to why she wouldn’t eat the bread yet. Undoing her disguise there would be like a death sentence, especially with how she was careful to stay in Aulia’s good graces. She prayed that the child would buy her next excuse: that she had to answer nature's call first. Luckily, it worked.

She planned to eat but not before finding a spot away from any eyes on her. 

Taking off her Knight helmet, she began eating the bread, which was stale. Every few bites, she kept rotating her head around, paranoid and jittery. It was such an effort to calm herself down–the helmet made things worse, but she had to put it back on before anyone saw her. 

But someone saw her.

[danibee33]

Don't mind me, just thinking about Johnny keeping a secret...

(render cr: @ave661)

word count: 1k

—> heads up: smut warning, unprotected p in v, gently edited, *parts in italics are flashbacks*

��� Thinking about how it’s nearly sunset when the team finally lands back at base. The mission had been easy comparatively speaking, as always, recon took the longest- and, like always, it was Johnny’s least favorite part. See, he hated the waiting, hated the twiddling his thumbs, hated the boredom of it all. Johnny liked to be moving, always, in whatever way he could be. 

Idle hands lead to evil thoughts, or however the saying goes-

Sure, he had Ghost there, but he could only do so much with the dry humor and witty banter, not that the Lieutenant wasn’t good at it- in fact, Johnny really didn’t mind working with the broody man one bit.

Slowly, but surely, and certainly never to be admitted by Ghost, Johnny thinks he’s managed to break him down a bit. He was good like that though-

Never one to back down from a challenge.. Never.

"What can I get for you?”

Johnny had noticed the cute little bartender right away.

The bar itself was always the same when they were home, a local place overwhelmingly patronized by military folk due to its proximity to base, but she was an undoubtedly new face.

And he would know, but that’s neither here, nor there.

She was a sweet thing, with long, dark chocolatey hair that hung in perfect waves down her back, and the biggest brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen- 

“Scotch.” He says, a lopsided grin on his lips, “and bourbon, for the big guy.”

Without missing a beat, she huffs out a laugh, meeting Ghost’s eye for only a moment before returning her gaze to Johnny, “What? Big Guy can’t order his own drink?” 

Oh, isn’t she trouble..

“Actually, I believe he prefers to be called-”

“That’ll do.” Simon barks out, rolling his eyes at the way the bartender giggles, her hands moving at the same time to pour to perfectly measured drinks-

“Would you like to open a tab?” 

“Yeah,” Ghost speaks again, the crystal glass comically small in his hand, “Lover boy here will cover it, won’t ya, Johnny?”

He walks away before the Scot can give an answer, leaving the two behind to continue on with whatever this was. But, Johnny doesn’t have a problem with that- he’s almost grateful, as he digs in his back pocket, eyes never leaving hers. And even though he could blatantly see other people patiently waiting to have their orders, she doesn’t move, 

“What’s your name?” Sweet Thing takes the card from between his fingers, and he doesn’t miss how her fingertips linger over his for just a moment longer than what would be necessary-

Such fucking trouble..

But, to his surprise, as soon as she has the card in the system, he watches her give almost the same exact treatment to the man standing to his left, and then the man next to him- though, her little giggle wasn’t nearly as warm with them. Or maybe that’s just his own hubris coming out. Either way, he turns on his heel, heading to the table where Simon and Gaz are already sat, chatting idly and sipping on drinks, 

“Surprised you’re back already.” Ghost deadpans, casting Johnny a lazy side-eye.

And he hates to think that he’s a bit surprised, too, but- it’s not the first time he’s been knocked down a notch or two, and it won’t be the last, 

“Ach- You’re real funny, LT. Y’know that?”

“Drinks, tonight?” Gaz asks with a cheery lilt, looking between the other three.

Ghost gives a noncommittal grunt, maybe a yes or maybe a no, maybe a something in between- they never know with him anyway. And Johnny isn’t sure how to answer, he doesn't exactly want to give away who he has waiting for him- doesn't want say what has his leg bouncing with anticipation, or a barely held back grin every time he looks at his phone now that they’re close enough to the ground to get a signal.

He's spoken of his bonnie lass as sparingly as possible, something deep down in him just needing to keep her to himself for as long as he can. Keep her away from this part of his life-

It’s their Captain that speaks up first, 

“Not tonight, boys. Havin' dinner at home.”

"Say that again, Bonnie..”

It’s hard to form a coherent sentence, but she manages to moan out his name again, “Oh, fuck, Johnny.. Right there, baby.”

The back seat of Johnny’s truck had to be good enough tonight, he couldn’t wait a second fucking longer- which is how they ended up here, him stretched out on the seat as far as he could get, watching her bounce and grind on his cock, riding him like it’s the last thing she might ever do, 

“That’s it.. ” Johnny groans, his fingers digging into the fatty flesh of her hips, hard enough he’s sure there might be bruises left behind for him to kiss tomorrow, “Y’re so fuckin’ perfect- y’know that?”

God, her smile could be enough to send him over the edge right then, her pretty pink lips pulling up, just for him, teeth biting into the plump of her bottom lip, just for him, before parting in the most mouth watering moan- all of it, just for him.

He was hooked, addicted, hopelessly, and irrevocably- he wanted her in every way, and it had only been a handful of months since she finally gave him the time of day.

So, when she buries her face in his neck, letting him thrust into her deeply, wildly, letting him all but throw her headfirst into the blinding pleasure of an orgasm- her silky walls clench around him so tightly he can’t help but to let go, painting her insides white with a low, guttural growl- his voice deep as he guides them both through the high, 

“That’s my girl.. My good fuckin’ girl, huh? God, ya feel just divine.. Can never get enough-” He coos, over and over, lavishing her neck and jaw with kisses, wanting to taste the sheen of sweat on her skin. 

And every time, he wonders how he could’ve gotten so lucky- to have a woman like her want anything to do with a guy like him.

“There’s my sweet girl, how are ya, honey?” Price greets his only daughter with a kiss to the cheek and a warm hug, the type of hug he always and only ever saved for his little girl. He can’t help it, she just seemed too grown now, too tall, too mature with her mother’s calming brown eyes and her dad’s cheeky smile, 

“Hi, daddy-” She says, a beaming smile on her lips, “I’m glad you’re home.”

a/n: i’ve had this one in my drafts for a while 😬 & for the request I recently got for the zombie!au, i promise i’m working on it!!

*whole inspo was this song, because johnny fucking would*

[chasedbyatlantic]

when you wash your hair, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.

warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo

—

You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).

As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.

You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.

Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."

The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).

You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.

It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.

As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.

"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."

You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.

A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.

Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.

The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).

It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.

You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.

"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.

You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.

Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.

A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.

It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.

"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.

Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."

Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.

He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.

Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.

He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.

You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.

Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.

You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.

"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.

Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.

"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."

Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.

—

when you wash your hair, matt maltese

[josnhoes]

which of the self aware bg3 characters do you think would be the most romantically interested in reader?

As we know all the companions are thirsty Lil gremlins. So the option is all of them. Save Tav and Durge for the simple reason of wanting to keep them as bland as possible so people can put in their Tavs and Durges. But like if you want them to have a mommy kink hit them up too I guess lol.

Some little things on each main companion in order of thirstiest to less thirsty.

Gale is the most thirsty. Simply because you are kind to him. Even when the truth comes out you support him and do your best to see him happy. Even if you can be a little mean about his use of 'fancy' words. He'd say stop calling him your thesaurus but you say it so fondly he can't deny it makes his face heat up a little.

Wyll and Karlach tie.

Karlach loves how different from everyone you are. Given your story that's no surprise but you kept hyping her up. Even as she was on literal fire you were confident that the group would help her. She fell a little harder when she found out from a few people that you'd been looking into fire protectant armor or enchantments so you could hug her with out her fearing for your safety.

Wyll loves how warm you are. When he got changed you sought him out despite the party. You reminded him that not o ly does a pair of horns dictate who he was, but that no matter the form he took human or tiefling that there would always be those who would dislike him. You reminded him that his appearance was not as important as his actions. With a little bonus of now he had a whole new group to inspire and motioned to the tiefling kids. When you speak to him like that how could his heart not open to you?

Astarion takes a long time to fall but not as long as Lae'zel. It's not a single moment that makes him realize it either. It's an accumulation of little things. The playful yet kind behaivor. The way you look after him even after you know what he was. And a little bit the way when he confessed his vampirism that you just were surprised and asked, "That was a secret?" Okay he hated that moment but he gets a good laugh of it now. You treat him not only as a person with his own say in things, but as an equal. He loves it. It was about time *he* got kindness so why shouldn't he indulge.

Shadowheart loves the way you respect her. You never push nor prod for answers to things but leave the door open for her to tell you things when or if she does. Though she can see how badly you want to know her more. It was sweet. Though she has banned you from alcohol after the time you accidently got drunk and proudly called her Shart. Never again.

Halsin would be higher on the list if it weren't for the fact he is scared to act on those feelings far longer. He wants you, he wants you to look at him the way you marvel at nature and cities alike. But he fears a couple of things, at first it's the fact that no one really thinks you're all there in the head himself in the start as well. It would be *wrong* to take advantage of you. Then once the truth is revealed he fears loving you only to loose you if you get sent home. The fear of loss makes him keep a distance. Maybe someday he'll be brave, welcome the chance Silvanus had given him bring you to him.

Lae'zel was completely and utterly disinterested for the longest time. You were like a newborn fawn. Unless, weak, not an ounce of a threat to anyone aside maybe bumping into to someone. You were touched in the head. Then you grew on her. You despite having no clue how fought. You acted fast in battle to protect the others and even sometimes herself. You were surprisingly perceptive of the battlefield. It was that potential that drew her to you. Now she doesn't love you in the traditional sense. There is no plan of a happy ending. But there is a fondness of sorts, and potential for a few intense nights.

[toru-oikawas-milkbread]

Sleepy Cuddles With Diavolo

Pairing: Lord Diavolo x f!reader

Word count: 2K

Warnings/contents: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Notes: I don’t think I really have much to say for this. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, it was so much fun to take his character and make him such a sweet and loving fiancé who’d be on your side no matter what. So, with the thought in mind, I rolled with the idea and 2k words later, here we are! I hope that you guys can enjoy this chapter! 

<>~<>~<>

Truth be told, the rumors were getting to you. That you were only with Diavolo because he was someone so important. That you were less interested in him and more his money, his heritage, even his body. For the longest time you laughed them off, but it seemed as the years went on they were only growing more intense.

To battle off the annoyance you felt from the constant rumors, you decided to get a job. Going from a child who had everything handed to her in the Devildom to falling for the young Lord, you’d never so much as needed to think of getting a job to make cash. But now, you simply weren’t in it for the money. Instead you were trying to appeal to the people of the Devildom. You thought that maybe if you showed yourself to the public more, if you were viewed as more than Lord Diavolo’s fiancée, that people would see you as more than a lowly gold digger who’s dried up money drove her to any length possible to continue the lavish life that she’d lived.

So you got a job at one of your favorite restaurants: Hell’s Kitchen. A constantly busy, understaffed restaurant that was always looking for new employees.

Often times you ended up serving your oldest friends; Beelzebub, Belphegor and occasionally the other brothers when they would tag along. After joining the Hell’s Kitchen team, you were surprised at how quickly everybody, even the customers, had welcomed you to what some pessimistically teased you as calling “The lower world.” However, Beel’s words were at the front of your mind when people said such things to you.

“Don’t worry about them. They don’t matter. More people here like you than dislike you.”

After a month now of working daily at Hell’s Kitchen, you’d grown accustomed to the working life; you’d grown fond of the regulars and even made friends with most of your coworkers, as fleeting as some of them may be. After some time, it seemed at the rumors were slowly dying off. That your plan to get people to realize you were in it for the long run with the entirety of the Devildom was working.

However you weren’t ready to leave the place you’d joined almost reluctantly a month ago. You felt like you were at home when you were at Hell’s Kitchen. As much as you missed getting in bed with Diavolo and instead coming home after he was already asleep, you were enjoying the time you spent with other people.

But that didn’t mean that you weren’t sometimes more exhausted than normal when you returned back to the place that you called home with Diavolo. With a yawn, you leaned back into the dining room chair and rubbed your tired eyes. You quickly opened them and sent a smile at Barbatos as he poured you a warm cup of your favorite, sweet smelling tea and set it in front of you.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

“Of course,” he said politely. “You seem more worn out than usual tonight, if you don’t mind me saying.” You took a sip of your tea and nodded before speaking.

“Today was extremely busy and two people quit yesterday so more tables than normal were left up to me alone.”

“Is that why you had to work more hours?” He inquired as he used a feather duster on the shelf by the window, though he was clearly listening as he worked.

“Yes, that’s why I went in early and stayed late. But I don’t want to complain, I saw Beel and Mammon today as well as a few other regular customers and their families. I got some very generous tips today. I think that I’ll give them to Mammon, he’s always complaining about what he owes in debt, though I have my doubts he’d use this money to settle them and instead he’d most likely buy something that will end up laying on the floor sometime soon.” You added the last bit with a soft laugh.

“Is all of this exhaustion, worth it?” He asked, catching your attention. You sent him a confused frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you don’t mind, it seems as if you’re rather exhausting yourself further than needed for some small rumors.” With a small gasp, you opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it. The air was thick for a moment before a familiar tone broke it.

“Barbatos is right.”

“Young Lord.” Barbatos greeted Diavolo with a smile and a gentle bow.

“Diavolo—“ You spoke, but your fiancé raised a hand to silence you and took the seat across from you.

“You’re beyond exhausted.” Barbatos grabbed another cup and pored Diavolo a cup of steaming tea before he quietly excused himself from the room. “This isn’t the same part-time gig that you told me you were looking for."

“Diavolo, you don’t understand— I’ve invested myself in Hell’s Kitchen. I know the customers, I know the chef’s— I’m one of the only servers left. I can’t leave.”

“I’m not asking you to leave. I’m asking you to take it less seriously.” You frowned lightly and took another sip of your tea.

“I can’t take it less seriously; that’s not how I know how to work. That’s not how I do these things.” Diavolo gave a soft sigh and reached a hand across the table, offering comfort for you that you easily gave into.

“Barbatos is right, my darling. You’re exhausted. You’re working long hours. I permitted this when you were only working a few hours a day to show the people of the Devildom that you weren’t simply using me to get somewhere higher,” you flushed and looked down, unaware that Diavolo had known your plot all along, “However this has gone too far. You’ve more than proven yourself.”

“I should have known that you would see right through me,” you said with a sigh.

“I hear the rumors. I see the way that you slowly started to let it in. You suddenly taking a job at Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t surprising, but I didn’t think that it would go so far.” He stood, keeping ahold of your hand and helping you up out of your chair. “Come now, my love. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let me clean up real quick—“ You started, however Barbatos was quickly behind you gathering the cups.

“You’re going to replace me if you keep cleaning up after yourself,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll handle the cleaning tonight.”

“Thank you, Barbatos,” Diavolo spoke, gently tugging you along to the stairs to head to your shared bedroom. “Come now. Let’s get to bed.” Sighing, you followed the man with no complaint. Things were silent on your way to the bedroom. He opened the door for you, closed it behind himself, and crossed his arms while you sat on the end of the bed. “Be honest with me.” There was no strict guidelines. He knew that there was more on your mind than you were letting on. You had never known that you were so predictable in his eyes.

“I am.”

“There’s things you’re neglecting to tell me. Not hiding, not lying about, but neglecting. I’d like you to be honest with me.”

“Oh Diavolo… why do you have to know me so well.”

“In this moment, I believe that’s your saving grace.” He sent you a gentle smile as he spoke. “My love, what’s going on?” Gently, the man sat beside you on the end of the bed and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. “I just don’t think that you’ve been yourself lately.”

“I have been.” With a sigh, Diavolo stood again.

“One of these days, I’ll get your guard down. For now, come lay with me.” Your fiancé stripped his jacket off, not bothering to put it away like he usually does. Diavolo took his shoes off and pulled the thick comforter back, laying beneath the sheets on the bed and offering an arm for you as you slowly stood up. You gave in, laying on the bed with the man and moving against his side. “How was work today then? You were gone an awfully long time.”

“It was so busy,” you started, though minding your words carefully. You didn’t want to complain; Diavolo had the entirety of the Devildom on his shoulders, you felt wrong complaining about anything to him. Especially since you knew that he would only make you feel listened to and be there for you. It made you feel selfish to think about. “But it was a good day— Beel and Mammon stopped by for a little while near the end of my shift. I had a quick snack with them before they left when it was closing time. A couple regulars came in, some with their family.”

“It sounds like it was quite crowded today.”

“Extremely.”

“Are your feet tired? Would you like me to rub them for you? I can only imagine that it wasn’t very comfortable to be standing and running around all day in your work shoes.”

“I can’t complain too much.”

“You never do.”

“Well— that’s not true. I complain.”

“Very rarely.”

“There’s nothing to complain about.” Diavolo gave a quiet chuckle and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You always say that. You know, even optimists can have rough days that they need to complain about,” you frowned and went to speak, but he quickly cut you off “— maybe complain isn’t the right word. Maybe vent is the appropriate term.”

“I have a good life. I’m happy.”

“Then even happy people can have rough days.”

“I really don’t have anything that deserves to be complained about.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked with a small frown.

“It supposed to mean that you have the entire Devildom looking up to you and Barbatos has the future and the past in his eyes, and he’s constantly working all day long. Lucifer has his brothers that he’s always looking after and Levi and Belphegor are extremely misunderstood and they need help.”

“I see. You feel like your problems are not justifiable. Is that it?”

“No, I just… do we have to keep talking about this?” You frowned., your temper growing short “It’s been a long day and I don’t want to have this conversation.” With another quick kiss to your forehead, Diavolo spoke.

“We can talk about it later.” With a huff, you nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Will you just let it go?”

“Absolutely not.” He spoke the words that you knew you were going to hear, one’s that you already heard in your mind before you even finished your sentence. “Maybe I do have the entire Devildom on my shoulders, but you are my first priority. And if you think that life is stressful for me, you’re incorrect. I love my position. Barbatos knows that when he’s tired, he can take a break. Lucifer loves his brothers. Belphegor is growing closer to his brothers and Levi is warming up to people. Everything is okay with everybody else right now. And if everything with you is not okay, then it won’t be okay until we fix it, and that is okay.”

“I hate that you’re always so encouraging.” A laugh left the man as he rubbed your shoulder.

“No you don’t. You hate that you’re just wrong this time around.” He quickly teased you. “Now, please, promise me that you’ll open up to me soon. It doesn’t have to be tonight, maybe not even tomorrow. Maybe not even a week from now. But you can talk to me. We’re not engaged because we neglect to tell the other what tires us.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You spoke softly.

“Never.” He spoke in a quiet tone. “Never could you be a burden. Certainly not to me. Now ease your minds of such futile worries and rest your head on me now. Good girl. Get some rest now. I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready to talk.”

[hearts-hunger]

four weddings and a funeral — part six

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist

⮡ part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Series Summary: You and Danny haven’t spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: Danny's your best and longest love, and you know you're his too.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, smut | Word Count: 5k | Chapter Warnings: smut (minors begone!), shower sex, unprotected sex, talk of birth control, piv, it's all very tender you know how i am

A/N: At long last! The end of Danny and sunny's fic, and the very last chapter of the very last cabin fic! It's kind of bittersweet, but this isn't the last we'll see of Danny and sunny or any of the cabin fic couples. I'm so thankful for how much love this fic has gotten, and I hope this chapter is everything you've been hoping for! ♡

It had started to rain when you made it to the restaurant, and you were glad to be ushered to a booth at the window so you could look out at the hazy, wet glow of the streetlights and neon signs of the bar across the street. The restaurant was quiet and nearly empty aside from two or three other couples, and there was nothing to distract from you and Danny and the space you quickly filled up with your own bashfulness.

You were grateful when the waiter came by and took your order. You weren’t surprised that you felt a little awkward with Danny now; you were way too in your head about all the cards being out on the table, and all the ease and familiarity you’d built with him seemed to vanish in a powder as soon as he so much as glanced at you. Wasn’t this crazy? Were you really on a real date with him? Had you really told him you loved him and had you really heard him say it back?

“Hey, sunny.”

You met his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Can you give me another vocabulary word for free?”

You smiled. “Your last one wasn’t free.”

“Oh, right, of course.” He pushed the thai tea you were sharing closer to you. “You liked to be plied with beverages, don’t you?”

“Yes I do,” you agreed. “So, what vocabulary word do you want? Or should I just give you a random one?”

He shook his head. “I need one for a specific feeling.”

“Oh yeah? What feeling?”

“Well, say you were sitting across the table from a really pretty girl...”

You gave a bashful laugh. “And what kind of feelings does that evoke, Daniel?”

He smiled. “Anxiety. Eagerness. A feeling like my heart might jump out of my chest every time I look at her.”

You knew the feeling. You turned the ring he’d given you around on your finger.

“Frisson,” you said after a moment. “That’s your word. It means... a thrill. A sudden strong feeling of excitement or fear.”

“Frisson,” he repeated. He nodded. “You’re pretty good at this sort of thing, sunny.”

He held his hand out on the tabletop and closed his fingers around yours when you put your hand in his.

“Hey,” he said gently.

You met his eyes, shy and so in love with him you could barely stand it. “Hey.”

He squeezed your hand and gave you a warm smile. “Good nervous, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Good nervous.” You didn’t regret anything, but you were so thankful that he understood how you felt. “I know it's silly. I’m trying not to be.”

“It’s okay if you are,” he said. “I am too. We’ll just be awkward for a little while. No big deal.”

“Ideal for a first date,” you teased.

He shrugged, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “My ideal first date is with you,” he said. “So however it goes, I’m not complaining.”

Your food came, and you pressed your hand to the side of your bowl of tom kha and shivered.

Danny chuckled. “Are you cold?”

“I think it’s a psychological thing,” you said. “You know, warm bowl of soup, rainy night outside — it only seems right to be cold.”

“Well,” he said, around a bite of pad thai, “you have a perfectly nice boyfriend over here who’s willing to keep you warm.”

You blushed, but you couldn’t resist a little needling. “You should probably know that sitting on the same side of the booth is a dealbreaker for me.”

He laughed. “I’m with you, actually. Otherwise you’re having to sit sideways to talk.”

“Right!” you said. “And you’re both looking at nothing but an empty booth.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” he agreed. “I’d much rather look at you.”

You touched a nervous, fluttery hand to your hair you’d put up in a bun. “In all my shining glory, huh?”

He smiled, and there was something so natural and kind in it that you knew it was sincere.

“You kind of do have a shining glory right now,” he said. He looked around at the dim, quiet restaurant and then back at you. “The lights are giving you a sort of halo. Very angelic.”

“How angelic would it be if I stole some of your food?”

He pushed his plate towards you. “Please, have as much as you want.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few minutes while you enjoyed your first official dinner date. You thought of what he’d said about keeping you warm, what he’d called himself; you grew a little restless, feeling bashful and nervous the more you thought about it.

“Hey, Danny?”

“Hm?”

You toyed with the handle of your spoon. “You know what you said a few minutes ago? About... me having a perfectly nice boyfriend to keep me warm?”

He raised a brow, but the corner of his mouth tipped up too. “Yeah?”

You felt your face heat. “Well, are we... I mean, I know we said... but do you want to be...?”

He gave a soft laugh, but you knew he wasn’t being unkind. He took your hand.

“You don’t have to watch your words with me, sunny,” he said. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

You squeezed his hand. “Do you want to be my boyfriend? Officially?”

He ran the pad of his thumb over the ring he’d given you.

“Yes,” he said with a sweet smile. “Yes, sunny. I want to be your boyfriend, officially, and I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want...” He pinked. “Well, we have a lot of time to figure out the rest. But I know I love you, and I know I want to be your partner.”

You felt a thrill of pleasure at the words, and you loved that he was already thinking about your future together. 

“Me too,” you said. “I love you too, Danny.”

He gave you a teasing smile. “You know, if we weren’t on opposite sides of the booth, we could be kissing right now.”

You bit your lip at the thought. “Tempting. Still a dealbreaker, though.”

He laughed. “I love you very much, sunny.”

You were certain you’d never felt happier in your entire life. “I love you very much too.”

You lingered long after you’d gotten the check, talking about everything and nothing; as he’d promised it would, the awkwardness eventually gave way to the comforting familiarity of two friends in love with each other. It was so easy and wonderful just to be with him, and you could hardly believe he wanted this with you as much as you wanted it with him.

Danny took the receipt, and when he uncapped the pen, you knew without having to ask what he was going to draw on the back of it.

“What are they doing tonight?” you asked, leaning forward a little to try and see what he was drawing.

He blocked your view with his hand, and you smiled. 

“Are they doing something inappropriate?” you teased. “Please me you’re not drawing stick-figure sex, Danny.”

He smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You laughed. “Yes, you got me. That’s what cranks my tractor.”

He chuckled and finished his drawing with a scrawl of words across the top. He slid the receipt across the table to you. “There you go. Happy first date.”

You felt a girlish blush creep into your cheeks at that, and you looked over his drawing with a soft smile. He was a talented doodler, you had to admit; the stick figure couple was at what you guessed was a wedding, fairy lights strung above them and wine glasses in hand. They were giving each other a goofy kiss and a few hearts floated above them. The words stretching over the scene were from your Cat Stevens song — The wedding took place and people came from many miles around; there was plenty merriment, cider and wine abound. But out of all that I recall I remembered the girl I met, ‘cause she had given me something that my heart could not forget.

“I’m glad you didn’t have a lighter at the funeral,” he said. 

You smiled. “Me too. And I’m glad we somehow ended up at the same wedding the next day.”

He grinned. “It does kinda seem like fate, doesn’t it?” He laced his fingers with yours. “I’ll go to weddings with you as long as you’ll let me, sunny.”

“Well, we’re already on our fourth,” you said, tracing an affectionate finger over your stick figure couple. “It’s kind of our thing now.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

It was pouring by the time you got to your apartment, and despite Danny’s best efforts to hold his jacket over your head while you fumbled with your keys, you both ended up soaked. Neither of you seemed to mind, though, laughing and wiping the rain from your faces as you came inside.

“Could you call this a gullywasher?” he asked, brushing his damp curls out of his face.

You grinned. “Hey, you remembered! I’ll make a vocabulary scholar out of you yet, Daniel.”

You stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss, and though you’d only intended for it to be a quick one, he responded with such eagerness that you would have stood in your doorway and kissed him for the rest of your life if you could have. The two of you stood together, dripping onto your floor, completely lost in each other as the rain fell outside.

He put his tongue in your mouth, and your breath caught on a little whine. You felt his reaction shiver through his whole body, a rush of confidence and pleasure in his touch as he pushed the door closed and backed you up against it.

He let you come up for air after a minute, and his lips were pink and shiny from kissing you.

“Danny,” you said, soft, breathless.

He tucked your hair behind your ear. “Yes, sunny?”

You blushed. “I’ve never, um... never brought a guy back to my apartment,” you admitted. “I don’t really know what I’m doing with this kind of thing. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart.” He gave you a gentle kiss. “We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“Well, but... what do you want to do?”

He cupped your jaw and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “Doesn’t matter what I want to do, sunny. If it would make you feel better to know, I’m over the moon to do literally anything with you. But what I want you to worry about is what you want to do.”

“You’d be down for anything?” you teased. “You're telling me there’s nothing you wouldn’t do with me right now?”

“Mmhm,” he said, a little distracted, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw and the corner of your mouth. “We can fuck nasty or go to Disney World or jump on the bed or decorate your whole apartment for Halloween. I don’t care.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you only grew the more options he gave you, and you were shaking with laughter as he kissed you again.

“None of those, then?” he said with a soft laugh.

You draped your arms over his shoulders and let him hold you. “Maybe we can find a middle ground.”

“Suits me, sunny. I’m gonna have to run to the store if we pick anything close to the first one, though.”

“I’m on birth control,” you said. “So you don’t have to unless you want to. Though I am surprised you didn’t come prepared for this trip.”

He chuckled, and his breath was warm against your skin. “Messing around with bridesmaids isn’t really my style,” he said. “And I wasn’t counting on you, sweetheart.”

You gave a pleased hum. “Aren’t you glad you found me, though?”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you. “Yes, I am.”

He held you close and kissed you, and you stayed that way for a long while. You felt how it affected him to be so close to you, and you flushed with pleasure to know he wanted you, but it also made you a little nervous.

You worked up enough courage to tell him, or at least try. “Danny?”

He hummed and kissed your throat. “What is it, sunny?”

“I, um... I need to tell you something.”

He pulled back and studied your face, gentle and patient. “Okay. Tell me.”

You absently ran your fingers over the string of pearls around his neck, hesitant, shy.

He brushed his thumb in a soothing, repetitive motion over your hip. “Have you ever been with somebody, sunny? Is that it?”

You blushed vividly. “S-sort of,” you said, unable to meet his eyes. “I mean, I’ve... only a few times. Not many.”

You could count on one hand the times you’d slept with someone, all of them with a guy in college you would hesitate to call a boyfriend. He’d been pushy and less than gentle, and it had left you with very little knowledge of how sex was supposed to be. You knew it would be different with Danny; you had no doubt about that. But you still didn’t have a lot to go on.

Danny put a finger under your chin and tipped your face up towards his.

“Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

You did as he said, embarrassed, seeing nothing but kindness in his gaze.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I’m not in any rush. I want you to feel comfortable with everything we do, and if that means we don’t do anything, I’m more than happy to not do anything.”

“I want to,” you said softly. “I just... wanted you to know that I’m not some kind of sex expert. If that’s what you were hoping for.”

He chuckled. “I was hoping for you, sweetheart. But thank you for telling me. It doesn’t change my mind about anything.”

You were surprised at how relieved you felt. “I love you, Danny.”

He gave you a gentle kiss. “Sweetheart. I love you too.”

The two of you made your way to the laundry room to put your wet clothes on to dry, and when you stood with him half-dressed in your dark apartment and listened to the sound of the rain and the gentle hum of the dryer, he asked if you wanted to shower together.

“No pressure,” he said. “And I’ll wash your hair for you.”

You smiled. “Deal.”

Under the spray of the warm water and by the light of a few flickering candles, he kissed you with a slow, patient gentleness. You skated your hands over each other, leaning into the intimacy that felt as easy as breathing. You let your hands wander, and you loved the little gasp you drew out of him.

“Sunny,” he breathed. “You don’t... uh, you don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”

You pressed closer and kissed him. “I want to,” you said. “Can you.... can you show me how?”

Even in the dim light, you saw how he blushed. “S-sure.” He swallowed when you moved your hand. “But I don’t — oh.” A little groan tumbled out of him. “I don’t think you need me to.”

You didn’t, not really — aside from a few gentle remarks to direct you, the only thing that came out of Danny’s mouth were words of praise and soft, lovely groans of pleasure. You’d never thought a man could be so beautiful like this, nor had you thought that you’d ever really enjoy it, but it was so different with Danny. You loved him and basked in his delight, mirroring his shudder of pleasure when he unraveled completely.

“I love you,” he breathed, holding you close and showering your face with kisses. “Thank you. I love you.”

You beamed up at him and rested against him, feeling his heartbeat hammer in his chest, loving the way his kisses were warm and gentle and deep with his affection for you. He lathered both of you with your peppermint soap and washed your body gently; he washed your hair for you, as promised, and he took his time to help you relax under his attentive touch. 

You held his wrists when he cupped your face in his big hands and kissed you. 

“Take me to bed, Danny,” you said softly.

He smiled. “Yes ma’am.”

You were still cold when you were toweled off, and Danny went to get his sweater from the dryer for you. You let him help you into it and snuggled into the huge, warm sweater, gladly accepting the kisses he showered you with as he did.

“Can we just lay together for a little bit?” you asked.

“Sure we can, sunny.”

You lay tangled together under the blankets, stealing gentle kisses, brushing your fingers through each other’s damp hair. You felt yourself warm to your desire, his gentleness and patience easing your bashful nervousness, and you didn’t stop him when his big, warm hand moved between your legs.

“Danny,” you breathed.

“Does this feel okay, sunny?” he asked gently.

You nodded and pulled him closer to kiss him. “Please.”

You felt his smile, and he kissed you and caught your moans as he worked his fingers slowly and skillfully over your heat. 

“Danny,” you gasped.

“I’m right here, sweet girl,” he said, his voice low with pleasure and desire. “You sound so pretty, sunny. Can you keep singing like that for me?”

He made sure you did, drawing you to a languid high like a slow wave crashing against the shore. You shuddered underneath him, and he drew you close and kept you in his arms.

“You’re so beautiful, sunshine,” he said softly. “Thank you for letting me be with you like this. I love you.”

Emotion made your chest tight, and your voice was barely above a whisper when you said it back. “I love you too, Danny.” It didn’t seem like enough just to say it, and you moved to straddle him and kiss him deeper. 

“I love you,” you said again. You showered his face with kisses, and he ran his hands under his sweater you still wore, holding your hips, tracing circles against your skin.

You cradled his face in your hands, and he looked up at you with nothing short of adoration.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said softly. “I love you, sunshine. Please don’t break my heart.”

A few tears did fall, then. He gave you a wobbly smile and brushed them from your face.

“Aw, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You hugged his neck and loved the feeling of his arms around you, strong and steady and safe.

“I’m never going to break your heart, and you’re never going to break mine, and we’re going to live happily ever after,” you said. “I promise.”

He breathed a laugh and leaned his head against yours. “Okay, sunny. I promise too.”

You let him hold you for a while, and you only pulled back enough to kiss him. He propped himself up further against the pillows, and you gasped when you felt him against your heat. 

“Danny.”

He chuckled. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I... I want you inside me.”

“Okay, baby,” he said gently. “Lift up a little, and you can do it yourself.”

You blushed. “You don’t want to be on top?”

“I want whatever you want,” he reminded you. “And I think it’ll be more comfortable for you this way. You can go as slow as you want.”

You kissed him. “Thank you.”

He gave you a gentle smile. “You don’t have to thank me, sunny. I love you.”

You lifted your hips and slowly lowered back down, taking him fully, both of you breathing a choked sigh when you were settled.

“I love you too,” you breathed.

You rocked against him, and he kissed the sighs from your mouth as his hands skimmed over your flushed skin. The feeling of him inside you was unlike any pleasure you'd ever felt; you knew would never be able to tell him just how much you loved the intimacy and vulnerability of being so close to him.

He let you set the pace, but every once in a while his control would slip, and you shivered with pleasure when he pulled you closer and kissed you. It was slow until it wasn’t, and for all the gentleness between you, you felt yourself coming to your high with an almost overwhelming quickness.

“Danny, I’m — ” You gripped his shoulders, your breath catching. “I’m close.”

“Good girl,” he praised in a low voice, and you couldn’t have kept yourself from going over the edge if you’d tried. You were almost embarrassed at the whines that tumbled out of you, but he was looking up at you with such adoration and pleasure, and you’d never felt more beautiful in all your life.

“Sunny, sunny,” he breathed. “You’re perfect. I love you so much.”

You pressed close and kissed him deeply. “I love you, Danny.”

He groaned when you kept rocking against him. “Baby, you — you gotta stop if — ”

You hushed him with a kiss. “I want you inside, lover.”

A shaky breath escaped him. “Call me that again.”

You smiled and brushed your fingers through his soft curls. “Come on, lover. Show me how good it feels.”

He dug his fingers into your hips, and you felt that familiar pleasure wind tight in your belly again just looking at him. When his fingers started to wander, you were surprised at how eagerly your body responded to his touch.

“Oh, Danny,” you gasped. “I —I don’t know if I can — ”

“Yes you can,” he said, and the gravelly desire of his voice made your breath catch. “With me, sweetheart. Come on.”

Both of you came undone, and in the hazy bliss of the afterglow, you rested your head in the crook of his neck and loved it when he held you close.

“Okay, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, running a hand over your back. “I didn’t mean to push you at the end.”

You kissed his jaw. “No, I’m glad you did. I’ve never...” You blushed. “Not that quickly, anyway.”

You liked the pleased smirk he wore, figuring he’d earned the right to be a little smug, but it quickly eased to a warm, genuine smile when you kissed him.

“I love you,” he said. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you for being someone I can trust.”

You kissed for a while longer, and when he eventually eased you off of him, he went to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean you up with. His touch was gentle and chaste, and he pulled you close under the covers when you were clean and snug and sleepy.

He gave you a soft smile as you tried to keep your eyes open.

“Go to sleep, sunny,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You tipped your face up towards him. “Goodnight kiss.”

He did as you asked. “Goodnight, sunshine. I love you.”

You gave a sleepy sigh and snuggled closer. “I love you too.”

—

The morning sun was gentle when you woke, and though Danny wasn’t in bed next to you, you saw a small collection of things on your nightstand you knew he must have put there. You sifted through it and saw the doodle of your stick-figure couple from the first wedding, the seashell with the heart-shaped hole in it, his drawing of his drum kit, the photo strip of the two of you, and the doodle-covered receipt from dinner the night before. The last one was new, a bright pink sticky note undoubtedly from your desk, showing a drawing of a smiley face made out of bacon and two fried eggs.

wakey wakey eggs and bacey (bakey? how tf do you spell that?) it read, and it made you laugh. come get breakfast and a kiss!!

You carefully put the newest note with the rest of your collection in the drawer of your nightstand, slipping on a pair of underwear and keeping Danny’s sweater that you’d slept in. You followed the aroma of coffee and found your boyfriend in your kitchen in nothing but his black boxers.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, the “good morning” you’d had on the tip of your tongue dying a quick death as you were momentarily stunned by your incredibly beautiful boyfriend and your incredibly wonderful life with him in it.

He turned from the stove and seemed struck with the same wonder when he saw you. His eyes were wide as he took you in, a delighted smile brightening his whole face.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.”

“I think I’m experiencing that vocabulary word again,” he said with a grin. “Frisson, right?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Me too.”

He leaned down to kiss you as you came close, and for a moment, the two of you lost yourself in kissing each other good morning.

“Coffee’s ready,” he said, when he finally let you come up for air. “And breakfast will be soon. You don’t actually have any bacon so I can’t make you a smiley face, sorry.”

You gave a dramatic sigh as you fixed your coffee. “What’s the point of even having breakfast, then?”

He chuckled and handed you your plate when you sat on the counter next to the stove.

“Sam and birdie invited us for lunch this afternoon,” he reminded you. “I didn’t say for sure if we were coming because we didn’t really talk about it, but we should have time before our flights.”

“I’d like to go,” you said. You didn’t like the reminder that he was leaving today, and you almost didn’t ask, but you knew you couldn’t just ignore it. “What time is your flight?”

“Four.” He glanced over at you. “I can miss it, sunny.”

You shook your head. “And then what?” you asked. The thought of him leaving made your chest feel tight, and you hid it poorly. “It might be tomorrow or the day after, but you’ll still have to leave.”

“Hey, hey.” He moved to stand between your legs, wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t be upset, sunny. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and brushed his curls behind his ear.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m not trying to pitch a fit. I know you have to leave. I just... don’t want you to.”

He gave you a sad smile. “I know, baby,” he said gently. “I don’t want to leave either. And I can stay for a few more days if that’s okay with you — I don’t have to be back to work until Monday. But even when I leave, we’re gonna figure this out. We won’t be long distance forever.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” you admitted quietly. “I guess because it doesn’t matter, really. I want to be with you even if we have to be long distance for a little while.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kissed you. “Should I stay for a few more days?”

You hugged him close. “Stay as long as you can.”

—

Just landed :) 

You couldn’t stop the giddy smile that his text drew out, putting your phone in your pocket and looking eagerly towards the opposite end of baggage claim even though you knew he wouldn’t be there for a while yet. You felt like your heart might beat out of your chest, and you had to keep yourself from running through the whole airport just to get to him.

It had only been a week since he’d flown back home, and you’d called and texted almost nonstop since he’d left, but you were so excited to be with him again. You’d decided that you’d be together on weekends, when both of you were off of work, and you’d alternate between your apartment and his. When the school year ended for you, you’d make more concrete plans; for now, both of you gave new meaning to the phrase “living for the weekend”. It wasn’t ideal, but both of you were willing to make it work.

You checked your phone again to see if he’d texted you an update, but there were no new messages; you bounced on your heels and looked to the steady stream of people filing into baggage claim to get their luggage.

Then, in the sea of people, you saw that familiar broad frame and that dark, beautiful head of curls, and it felt like the fourth of July in your chest.

“Danny!” you called, all but running through the crowd to get to him. He turned at your voice, looking for you, and grinned when he saw you; he dropped his bag and caught you to him, holding you in a bear hug right there in the middle of the airport.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you said, kissing his face as he held you.

He laughed and let you shower him with kisses as he hugged you tighter. 

“I love you too, sunny,” he said. “Are you happy to see me?”

You gave him a beaming smile. “What do you think?”

After a last kiss, he set you down and gathered his things, taking you by the hand.

“Do you remember that thing you said at our first wedding?” you asked as you walked. “When the bride was walking down the aisle?”

He gave you a bemused tilt of his head. “No. What did I say?”

You remembered how pretty he’d been at that wedding, all stained-glass rainbows and big sweet smiles, and you knew that you’d loved him even then. You’d loved him when you were kids and you loved him now, and you were so thankful for whatever thread of fate had brought you together.

“You told me to look at the groom,” you said. “You said his love was plain as day on his face. ‘The look of his best and longest love.’.”

Danny smiled. “Oh, yeah. I remember.” He put his arm around your waist and pulled you close. “You should be pretty familiar with that look by now, sunny.”

You blushed and beamed up at him. “Tell me I’m your best and longest love, Danny.”

He smiled and leaned down to give you a kiss. “You’re my best and longest love, sunny.”

You kissed him back. “You’re my best and longest love too.”

danny taglist:@tearsofbri@busybeingtrash@myway-late@gotavansleep@gretavanbri@stardustchxrds@pxppylove @mariegvf @bajabule69

fic taglist:@streamsofstardust

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister @eraofstardustchords @sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream @serendipiti @demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x

@gvfrry@ohhey1293@the-chaotic-cow@mountain-in-springtime@xserenax-13@stardustjtk @brooke-gvf@weightofdreams-gvf@jakeydoesit@gretasmokerising@hayley1623@doodle417@finestoflines@brokenbellz@bowievanfleet@s0livagant@strugglingtodoshit@s-u-t@kay-jordan@gretavanfleas@jakeyboiiiiiii@gretavansteph@gretavanbitches@myownparadise96@luverleaver@weightofdreamz@greatervanfleet@maedesculpaeusoubi@jakekiszkasbestie@pineapple-photographer@baguettejuliette@alexxavicry@levi-wants-ur-bones@carlybubs@cowboysamkiszka@dannyandthekiszkas@jordierama@slutforsteve@starshine-wagner @quartzzzzzzz @edgeofdreams @writingcold @lostoverseer @catharu77 @mackalah

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!