#like it’s not her usual vibe but again it works for her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sometimesanalice · 1 day ago

Text

Jordan! 💌 All the ring pops for you!

and more under the cut!

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. - this is such a good visual like i know exactly the kind of vibe she’s going for 🥰 the ivory cardigan is such a cute touch too! the poor thing tho because i know exactly what it’s like to feel out of place-- I think she partly wanted to have fun with it, but also it was a kind of unintentional litmus test, because any guy who doesn't appreciate the effort isn't worth her time. And there's feeling good at home and then there's being out in public, and when she realize just how out of place she was, well, oof. The cardigan was a last minute addition because I looked at the weather and was like, oh that's cold, lmao. although I'm sure a certain someone would have given her his coat!

It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances. - no because it is kind of camp in a way-- omg sooo camp! I was looking at the art direction for new things to include and like jars of shells? the model planes? the plaques and patches and stickers and bouys? like penny said MORE IS MORE

Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. - lieutenant commander cow eyes at your service 🫡 -- he knows to lead with his strengths

There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release. - sighhhhhh 🥰 that’s bradley for you--the sweetest boy!!

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement. - yeah because he’s pretty-- genuinely SO pretty. more people need to get with the program and call him pretty. 2025 is for making men blush!

“Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.” Oh. - well then 🤭 i’d be doing way more than an italicized oh 🤭-- it was a good thing she was sitting because I think her knees would have given out there. you'd catch me on the FLOOR

“Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.” // Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret. - oh my god this would absolutely work on me wow he’s so cute and sweet and clearly he’s flirting, but it’s not like it’s rehearsed if that makes sense?-- like his default is charming? and not in a smarmy way? what I liked the most about it is he never tries to gloss over it, or pretend she's not there in the most done up way on valentines, like he leans into it too. I like that he puts her at ease by meeting her where she's at, she's doing the most with her outfit, but he's doing the most with his gestures.

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.” - bubs please! rein in the charm!-- he knew EXACTLY what he was doing!

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. - oh sweet girl! 🥺 i liked this part in the little teaser you posted too!-- i think she's usually the type to look at things in advance, and this was the one time she didn't by looking up the bar and just kind of going with the flow. that she's been bitten by that decision once already, now she's a little nervous to kind of blindly order without knowing what's offered even though- yeah, it's a bar, they probably have something like that- and worried she'll embarrass herself again.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. - HES SO CUTE STOP!!!-- HE IS DOING THE MOST! I love how he's like all gas no brake with the flirting.

“But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar. - GOODBYE 404’ing-- after that night he might be singing a different tune, if anything he's going to be like pink is a shade of red since it's mixed with white so like why pick. lol

…before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat. - ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US-- the babes in the group chat are LOSING their MINDS you just know it!!

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself. - mmmmmmm something about this mmmmm-- the focus! the concentration! it's a gooood look on him

You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left - HOT HOT HOT LEFTIE-- is it a kink? i think it's a kink. because it does it for me.

Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.” - FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH THIS!!!! (also her wanting to take it off and keep it is so 🥰)-- she's his valentine! of course he's going to get (read: make) her a little something!! he's tactile that one! COMPETENT! a man of many skill! but I know! she's so smitten over this little gesture that she is like, "I'll cry if condensation makes it turn to mush". so you know she was holding her glass in the left hand and being careful because it's getting a spot in her jewelry box!

Bradley hooks a foot under your stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. - oh hell yes-- he has so many moves, but this is the hottest i think

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. // The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. - BYEEEEEE-- your song choice for the win! i love it being A Thing, the idea amused me to no end!

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all. - IT IS A FORWARD MOVE 🤭 i have butterflies-- SO FORWARD! like a hand, sure. but going straight to the waist like that?! oh hello, ok! i'm sure he was reading her face the entire time too like, too much too soon? but he's so smooth and hands are in a respectful spot, like I wouldn't mind either!

You like saying his name too much to shorten it. - i love this so much awwww-- please know it made me shrivel and die on the inside to write 'bradbrad' (even now you should see my face), but i liked her trying out something and then being like nope, because it's a GOOD name. also!! i purposefully left out his rooster moniker because I wanted her learning he is a pilot to be a surprise that came from his little hinge profile he made just for her (which i don't think i made obvious in my haste to publish, but that's my hc).

It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. - this is such a big thing! i love how you worded this!-- it's another way he's kind of taking her under his arm, like that's his bar and his spot, so not only is he being a proper gentleman taking over the introduction, it's another way he's easing her into the space and helping her to be comfortable there. i tried to make the difference between the body language of how she hides away in the beginning, like how hastily can she get out of the view of people, vs how leisurely she took her time walking the pool table before she takes her first shot. and it's because he's made her feel comfortable to be there now.

You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. - wait that’s so cute 🥰 also your pool knowledge is very impressive!!-- lmaoooooo, i got paid to read reddit, i'm not mad. it's still gibberish but i'm glad it sounds official, hahaahaha becasue YOU KNOW. but I thought it was sweet of him to try and play fast, because I think he does like to take time to ponder his moves. but it was something i was really trying to be conscious of when writing him even asking if he could play the game, because I didn't want him to seem rude? like 'come with, i have to play this game', but wanted to set it up in a way where jake would be annoying about it all night, and he really does want to focus on her. so it was something i waffled with for a bit trying to get the vibe right.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. - HOT this whole set up is so good-- that short skirt, i mean! like it was a valid ask, but both of them are definitely thinking about how good she looks bent over in front of him, lmao. but also I love him being like, respectful but also like holy shit.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you. - DRAG HIS ASS-- he's like, you couldn't let it go! and now you're going to pay up, I have a date to attend to!

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. - THIS IS SO CUTE!!! SHE SURPRISED HIM!!!-- She has some move of her own!! cheeky girl!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT! (one might even say progressive)-- not as iconic as asking during sex, but she can rest easy now knowing he's a feminist, lol

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.) - oh my god oh my god this is so smooth but also cute and earnest at the same time!!! and he sent a rose!!!-- ofc he sent it with a rose! she was also the second profile to pop up as as most compatible match, which he proudly tells her on their second date! i liked that he had her number, but was like, but what if I take this a step further. we love a man with initiative!

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#a novella for you jordan! hc and tidbits for you!#the babe with the big move

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 hours ago

Text

Home Grown 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Cole Turner

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Cole and Eartha.

Summary: loneliness can drive one to desperate measures.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Cole waits. It's all he can do. He's impatient. He's frustrated. He's angry.

He tenses as he feels the pressure in his core. It lodges deep in his pelvis as his hand glides up and down his dick, pumping desperately for release. He grits his teeth and growls. Almost there. Almost--

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

It's not working. It won't... won't happen. He's backed up. Bad. Worse, the damn erection won't stop. When he does finally get himself calm, it pops back up. He thought of calling a doctor but that's embarrassing. He just needs to let it out. He needs her.

He sits up, jostling the bed, and grabs his phone. The feed is still down. He wants to scream. His balls hurt. A lot. He cradles them and whimpers.

He forces himself off the mattress. He doesn't even get dressed before he goes out in the hall. The thought of anything against his dick right now is torture. Besides, his mom won't be up yet and dad can't do anything these days.

He cranks on the shower and steps under the flow. It stays cold even as he waits for it to warm up. What the hell is it now? At least the frigid water made him limp.

He gets out and stomps across the hall to his room. He grabs his robe and slippers and hurries out. He goes down to the basement to check the water heater. He uses his phone to illuminate the meter. It's not working. He touches the side, expecting to get scalded. It's freezing. Goddamn it! One thing after another.

As he slides the flashlight to off, his phone vibes. He nearly drops it. The must smell of cobwebs and dust has him pinching his nose as he swipes through his notifications.

It's working! She finally clicked on that link. He looked over the email Jensen coded. It's pretty convincing. At least, it worked on her.

He can see her through the lens of her phone. Closer than ever. She's gorgeous. He forgot how good she looks. She frowns as she keeps tapping then gives up. He sets her phone down on an angle, in some sort of stand. It faces her room as she moves around.

She just woke up too. She's in a camisole and short shorts. He's almost hypnotised at the sight of her thighs. He loves the little dimples in them. She turns her back and bends. The fabric rides up on her ass. She's so... full. He can imagine his hands on her, jiggling all that cushion. Shit, he's hard again.

He shoves his hand under his robe as he leans on the wall. She picks up the mess in her room. She can be a bit forgetful but she gets to stuff in the end. She moves around as she plucks up all the clothes and shove them in a basket.

She stands and blows a breath out. Her tit hangs over the top of her camisole and she fixes it. He squeezes tighter and his voice drones from him. He's so close. Just a little more.

As she picks the fabric from between her cheeks, he grunts. His whole body spasms as he cums. It leaks down his robe and spatters down his legs. Shit. Shit, it won't stop.

When he's finally done, he's shaking. He might just fold in on himself. Woah. He can't even imagine what it will be like to really be with her. He'll need to work on his stamina. He wouldn't want to disappoint her.

"Cole?" His mother's voice makes him flinch.

He lets go of his slimy dick and clears his throat.

"You down there? The water's not getting hot."

"I know, ma," he yells up, exasperated, "I'm working on it."

He wipes his hand on the inside of his robe. He has cum cooling on his legs and up his stomach. God, he's a mess.

He goes back to the water heater. He checks the connections and the valves. It's ancient. It's outdated. Just like everything else. It's all piling up. New heater, new tractor, new barn door.

He doesn't want to figure all this shit out. He wants to figure her out. He wants to make her a home she can be happy in. A place where she's not alone. Where he's not alone.

He sighs. He needs help. He hates to ask Jensen any more favours, but maybe there's someone else. Where can he even start?

He went on once, right at the beginning of the Discord. Jensen helped. Gave him extensive instructions. Make sure the firewall is in place and the VPN too. Don't connect without it.

He climbs the stairs and hears his mom in the kitchen. She tuts as she turns the faucet on and off, "Cole?"

"Ma, I said I'm on it." He hisses, storming past her, hoping she can't see the wet spot on his robe.

"Honey, I know--"

"Ma, please, I'm not even dressed," he stomps to the stairs and gnashes down on a growl.

He can't do this much longer. He can't take it. His sister needs to come home and his parents need to figure this out. It's time for the egg to come out of the nest.

He wipes himself off with a cold wet cloth before he goes back to his room. He props his phone up so he can watch her. She's just laying in bed, staring back at him. She must be watching something on her phone. She's so pretty.

He shakes the distraction off and goes through the instructions; firewall, VPN, remote-in. He always thought the darkweb was an urban legend or whatever. He didn't stay on it long the first time, he got too nervous. But he's desperate and he can't go through that again. He can't lose her. Ever.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #ghosted #watchers anonymous #au #drabble #series #home grown

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nebulanewts · 4 months ago

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Are the full versions of these songs out already? Yeah…but am I gonna post the previews anyway? Also yes - anyways,we’re starting off with Shizuku’s solo,Rise Up High! Just going from the preview,it’s definitely a different sound for her but it works really well especially for the first solo in this movie if that makes sense :]

#this is a REALLY fun song #like it’s not her usual vibe but again it works for her #…i really need to listen to the full versions #bc the previews already sound good #love live #love live!#nijigasaki school idol club #nijigasaki high school idol club #osaka shizuku #shizuku osaka #video #mars babbling

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saint-tibbles · 2 months ago

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if I RSVP to go to the work Christmas party will I ACTUALLY feel like going on that day? or will I go to the department breakfast, decide I’ve had enough people for one day, and then dip like I have the last 2 years…..

#it was fun the first couple of times but I’ve been at the company 8 years now lol #I actually like a lot of the people I work with directly #but cramming 1000 drunk people into a ballroom just isn’t my vibe #then again my friend who’s usually remote in Arizona is coming and I don’t want to ditch her lol #workblogging

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sysig · 1 year ago

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Lost my mind thinking about the Vyer Estate (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #Max Vyer #Dexter Favin #So while I'm not usually one to draw backgrounds I am actually Really into architecture and a little into decor and room design haha #Do I know much more than the basics? Nope! But I'm still fascinated by it :)#Some of these rooms have a very strong image in my head and some are fuzzier - it's been a bit since I reread #And I also haven't read with the layout in mind I don't think so there's that as well haha #I'll also freely admit to being very influenced by The Sims 2's build limitations when working these lol - spacing and density of items #Trying to map all these pieces of scenes into a continuous singular building is difficult! There are windows that butt up into other rooms!#It's a fun exercise tho :3 #Update: I have now reread with the layout in mind lol #My mental ears pricked every time there was a mention of furniture or layout lol #Like Max's couch! And a carpet in the foyer >:3c #And Dex's room also being upstairs :0 To think I almost made my first floorplan a single-story!#Silly me #I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've doodled Max's mom also :0 From memory - again - oops lol #I have always imagined that final scene with her as having this large-room/small in the frame kind of energy to it #All natural lighting and kind of dim and hazy - coming down from the high vibes #Actually pinning down a back wall is a whole other thing lol - sometimes the stairs are right there and sometimes they're in an alcove #It's always those tricky windows! And then actually populating a mansion with rooms that are useful lol #Dexter mentions that Max could've asked the cook but Max says he's asleep - how many people live on-site I wonder!#I'm also deeply enamoured with Max padding around in the middle of the night - a house he grew up in and feels safe wandering around in <3 #In his element ♥ Comfortable ♪♫

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musubiki · 2 years ago

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okay im actually a little emotionally attached to mochis shop being a little cat bookstore now

#so warm......#it invokes the feeling that its been there for 20 years #also seems like the kind of place a witch would run #theres a bunch of plants and cats and warm lighting #im trying to think if the cat witch was a cool side character how would i design her #since a lot of my side characters are cool as hell like murda and lady magg-lynn #it gives off the cozy vibes of broosters cafe #one(1) seating/reading area that consists of a little table and some chairs around it #that usually is taken up by coco/lime/oscar/taffy playing board games or something #some random girl with a crush on lime: heyy is it okay if i sit here and read for a bit?#lime: actually we dont allow reading the books in the store until after youve purchased them. im sure you understand #hes so indifferent and it works against him cuz a lot of girls are like (wow so cool....i want him more now...)#a tiny bookstore on the outter reaches of the downtown area. like before there is a house essentially attatched to the back where they live #oscar somehow affording a house with a storefront in the downtown area #( how did you afford this...)#(i work.)#mochi compensates him appropriately for letting her hijack his store #he doesnt mind though. he wasnt sure what kind of shop to run anyway #plus with magic mochi around he doesnt need to worry about utility bills or furniture or anything ever again so its a fair trade off #(rumor has it that shop has books on anything you could imagine)#someone walks in asking about 8th century pottery techniques from the eastern regions of the kingdom #(let me check the back!) she says and is back with the exact book 5 minutes later

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keeps-ache · 3 months ago

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need to be exploding something but i Can't for some reason. just Can Not. my ability to do is just. Nay

#just me hi #GOUHHH #okay so I can't go back to bed rn cuz I was So tired earlier I went to bed at 7 #Bad move !! But I also didn't have anything to do so kind of the only one lmao #So I slept for 4 hours and here I am now. At 2 am. Vibing [<- this is untrue]#I have Energy that I Need to dedicate to SOMETHING but I can't figure out what so I'm just vibrating really aggressively and pacing kfvshf #I could funkin writeeeee but I don't know what and i don't think I'll be able to focus so lmaoo 💥#// 💥🎶NONSTOP AUTOMATIC LIVIN IN DELUSION🎶💥#anywho loll--#//i could draw but that's Slow and Caramalizing work. Like when I want to evenly toast my thoughts you know what I'm saying kfshf #Or when I'm just trying to be Thourough. Or just rotating shiz so fast I gotta slow down lol #And then if I draw what should it be? The things in my brain ??? God forbid #What I'm just sposed to pick between the 3+ projects I have blasting at full volume in my head rn ?? That's crazy talk man #//mnm i want. a Snack #Snack tiymeeee #If only we had those kfshvfh #Ik where to get marshmallows (thought they could hide them from me. Impossible) but that's not a good choice for the hour or the craving lo #//what's the point !!! What's the pooooint !!! 🎶#i love you music hfvsh #/speaking of i took my mp3 player w/ me to skate w/ and played oldies and you know that was pretty good man I gotta do that again #Meant to do it last time but I didn't charge her :( and I don't want to stress her battery by killing her so </3 #//oh also we went to the movies today !! Part of the reason I'm tired lmao #I always forget to bring smth to plug my ears (it's so funkin loudddd man oTL) but you know what I Didn't forget? Mp3 player w/ the noise #Canceling earbuds. Which worked insanely well I had Zero discomfort :D #Usually the theater experience starts to suck hard at abt the 2/3rds point cuz everything gets loud ;w;#but i forgot abt the sound thing w/ my buds in so :D yay yippee !!#We watched gladiator 2 :) watched the first one the night before so full context let's go 💥#It was good! I think anyway! I'm not sure i was completely clocked in kfshfh #//ooou I'm running out of tag space..#I'll say ciao right here loll :> toodles !!

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baekuras · 4 months ago

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I have finally, hundreds of years after everyone else, started playing Dragon Age....2

(the first one didn't run with sound and i wasn't in the mood to fix it because i was cranky today okay-another time...i will get context eventually don't worry i have at least 2 braincells w/ me)

and the main thing I noticed is

Every companion sure knows how to make a fucking entrance huh?

#txts #even the few i care about less than others-like the introduction? always amazing #....i may have forgotten Aveline exists halfway through tho so idk much about her....vibes i guess #i set her aside for being pouty about us doing illegal shit here and there because templars bla bla bla #and then i just forgot to stop playing or go to her again #....eventually....i will do her mission too #don't bless this camera tho i am fighting it at every turn #whoever thought move camera and interact should be the same key....I wanna have a conversation #bc half the times i try to just click on smth i move my view up to the high skies #also can someone give Isabela pants-girl you're clothes were not modeled to keep...not clipping through #i am trying to be respectful here okay #anders is the type of guy who falls in love with you if you're halfway nice to him i guess #and fenris keeps being mad at me for sticking up for mages #bc apparently demons get them or smth #which i SHOULD PROBABLY LEARN ABOUT #but rn my logic is: seems like a person and my sister here is nice so #.....i should either play game1 or get more story context i feel like....or maybe its just racism idk #(or complicated feelings bc his master was a mage and usually ppl with more power than others will become exploitative and assholes and-#that all is just a general philosophy of precaution further intensified by whats apparently a 'natural' inclination towards-#the demonic and spirits and where magic or whatever the source of those powers is what connects those different beings in some way-#which translates to others as an inherent inclination for evil but just because smth evil looms over you doesnt mean YOU are evil #that'd mean anyone in a kingdom ruled by an asshole is evil which isn't how this works #but ofc if you throw in religious zealot...y and such it's gets more.......gross #+the blight/archdemons and whatnot are like THE problem of all time so much so that it's like...dividing it into times #like we don't go the first century or 1928 #we got the 4th blight and such #ANYWAY as said...idk so i will go ruminate in my thoughts and whatnot....and also go to sleep

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gaywineauntsstuff · 3 months ago

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Every single member of the Batfamily lies about their taste in music

Damian will claim that he only listens to classical music and that everything else is beneath him.

Damian will unironically listen to trashy Arab pop and the absolute worst Bollywood songs known to man (Dick introduced him to them and he hates the fact that sometimes he gets Sheila Ki Jawani stuck in his head during missions)

Tim will put on the most ear grating hyper pop you've ever heard and claim with full chest that these is the peak of humanities capabilities with music (Damian, Jason and Steph have all tried to kill him for this take) He will also play stuff like the living tombstones and sing it obnoxiously loud when he's working on the computer.

Tim however loves his 90s grunge and it's all that's playing in his headphones. (think nirvana, pearl Jam, Melvins, Alice in Chains etc) He has tracked down so many shirts and concert posters and watched every bit of content from the older shows.

Jason will claim he only listens to east coast rap, biggie, Nas, Jay etc and maybe some older metal. He will fight you on east vs west coast music, there will be weaponry involved.

Jason likes rap music... he unfortunately prefers west coast rap and has listened to no vaseline like 500 times. He will deny this till the day he dies...again. (Dick knows and threatens to tell Steph)

Steph will steal the aux and play Taylor Swifts greatest hits until one of the Boys threatens mutiny. Every single one of the bats has had style stuck in their heads during a stakeout at least twice. She will claim that the only rap song she can tolerate in Eminem and the 7/11 is Beyoncés best song.

Steph is an underground fan, think the dude selling mixtapes on the subway type shit. She also unlike Jason genuinely loves East Coast Rap music more than anything and knows every single wu-tang clan song by heart, same with Biggie. Not only does she love the music she also spends any free time binging those "history of rap and its consequences" videos and has been a firm believer that P.Diddy had a hand in a lot of the Death row records well...deaths.

Cass, well everyone thinks Cass has really good taste bc its Cass and she has zero flaws (don't @ me) she never takes the aux and will usually listen to her music while she's chilling or doing stretches. None of them have heard or seen a single one of her playlists except Duke.

its all 2010s top 40s pop music and like the trashy kind too, Beauty and the Beat, Kesha, Katy Perry. It's her turning of her brain time and she will be straight vibing to Rude! by magic or Boom Clap or Shower. she has shown this to Duke, smirked and told him that even if he tried to tell anyone they wouldn't believe him.

Duke is the only one who doesn't... lie. He just hides a few things. Lies of omission don't count as lies when the bats will lie to you about what they had for breakfast, while they are visibly eating breakfast. Duke says he listens to everything and he does. Literally everything. His patrol Jam is offensive bc it with start with Norwegian death metal and immediately switches to "like a G6" followed by kendrick Lamar and then descendants Disney channel movie music.

Bruce... Bruce is just weird, everyone asks him and gets a different answer. Bc he doesn't... like music. Like at all. It's all noise, his mother played instruments so he learned like 14 and he hates how they all sound. He just like vague batwings fluttering in dead silence.

Dick Grayson will obnoxiously play top 40 and radio music religiously around the bats. He claims it's the best music for rhythmic acrobatics and trapeze work and that true! Jason hates this kind of music the most, it's formulaic and holds no substance and drives him insane.

But Dick only listens to that music when he's moving, flipping doing high energy stuff. When he just wants to chill? This man has the most depressing music taste you've ever seen. You know that sad song from ur favorite artist that you can't listen to without crying. Yeah that's his bread and butter. Every single song is just flat out tear inducing, some of these bands have like 100 listeners and he is one of them and it's just their saddest song that reads like suicide note. The titans have conducted an intervention bc its just... concerning. He just thinks it's neat!

#batman #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dick grayson #duke thomas #batfam #batfamily #comics #ur honor theyre all mentally ill #Alfred says listens to rain sounds over violin #he actually listens to horror movie pre jumpscare music #im not elaborating #Jason todd is a fake fan smh #Tim is a 90s kid even if he is now born in 06 #no I will not take criticism

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therealmylesmorales · 2 months ago

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Don’t Take It Personal

Summary: you’re a little worried about how much time Vi is spending with her new friend

Part 2

Warnings: vi’s kind of a dumbass, ngl. Angst probably. R plays a sport for the plot (just vibe guys) loser!vi au

WC: 1.6k

Vi made a new friend.

That was a rare feat for her, seeing how out of the few people she considers a friend included you, her girlfriend, and Jinx, her sister.

She came home beaming after her usual workout at the gym. There was a new face she didn’t recognize and to Vi’s surprise, the friendly chat turned into a new friendship.

Her name was Caitlyn Kiramman. You knew her name, seeing the title “Kiramman” around a few buildings. Caitlyn was studying abroad for a few months, hence why Vi didn’t meet her until now. And yet, the new friendship was blossoming quickly. You didn’t mind, just happy that she managed to make more friends without you being present.

That was until Vi started hanging out with her more than you.

Srry, babe cant make it. At the gym wth Cait 💪🏻

11:23am

You frowned a bit at the recent text Vi sent you. You were at the library waiting for her for your weekly study date but when she was almost half an hour late you finally texted her. Only for your girlfriend to take a raincheck. Again.

Seeing how Vi wasn’t showing up, you still decided to stay for at least another hour; work still needed to be done with or without her. When you did decide to leave, you had to pass by the gym in order to go home. You figured Vi was still inside so you didn’t bother to linger until you heard a familiar voice.

”I’ll see you around, cupcake!”

Cupcake?

You turned to see Vi and Caitlyn leaving the large building. Vi immediately saw you and rushed over to you. Caitlyn gave you a polite wave before going her own way.

She was calling her ‘cupcake.’ You felt a little irritated at the—at your— nickname Vi called Caitlyn. Granted, ‘cupcake’ wasn’t one that was used very often, only when Vi was teasing or being purposely irritating to you. But still. It was your name.

Pushing the negative feelings aside you greeted Vi with a kiss. She smiled into it then pulled you into a tight hug, her arms almost crushing you.

”You stick, Vi,” you muttered into her neck.

A soft laugh escaped her. “You enjoy it. What are you doing here?”

”Going home. Then I saw you and…cupcake.”

”Don’t be like that,” Vi groaned, trying to play it off. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Never said you did.” You tried to change the subject, not wanting to make it a big deal. “Are you going to my game Friday or are you going to be too busy with Caitlyn. It’s the last one of the season, Vi.”

“Hey, have I ever missed a game before?” She asked rhetorically. ”But if it makes you feel better, I promise that I’ll be there.”

”Good.”

Vi then wrapped her arm around you, putting you in an almost headlock, and started walking in the direction of the same apartment. “Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

While what Vi said did ease some of you worrying, it didn’t stay for long. For the rest of the week, Vi was still with Caitlyn. Even though you attended most of the same classes, and stayed in the same home, you only saw her in passing or for only an hour at night. And every word that came out of her mouth was about the other girl.

“I really think you’ll like Cait, she reminds me of you.”

“Caitlyn squatted 210 today! She’s catching up to me.”

”I’m sorry, baby. Cait and I made plans to see that movie. You can still come!” You hate to admit it but that comment made you pissed off more than anything.

Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn. You haven’t even properly met the girl yet it seemed like you knew everything about her.

When Friday finally came, you just hoped Vi would pay more attention to you rather than her friend. Unfortunately, you were proven wrong.

Hey, pretty, the game is starting soon. Are you still coming?

6:37pm

Yoooo Viiii??

7:01pm

Violet, dude, where are you??

7:15pm

Your leg tapped nervously against the ground, scanning the crowd for the familiar pink haired girl, but you came up dry. In the crowd you could see Jayce, Viktor and Mel who all gave you encouraging smiles. Even Jinx showed up, sitting next to Ekko. She gave you a small shrug at your questioning glance before turning back to your phone, possibly texting her sister.

The coach got your attention, urging you to join your teammates on the court. And with a heavy, disappointed sigh, you got up from the bench. You couldn’t focus on Vi anymore, but you still hoped that she would show up sometime during the game. She did promise after all.

But throughout the game, that familiar full head of pink hair was nowhere to be seen. There was an empty spot next to Jinx that was never filled. Trying to ignore the wide open space was almost impossible, but the game was won without Vi cheering for you. Sure, the ball did slip from your hands more times than you’d like to admit, but your team won.

Your friends that did decide to show up wanted to take you out for the rest of the night, a congratulatory dinner, but you weren’t feeling it. And while Jinx doesn’t like saying the word no, she surprisingly let you go home after you refused. You really just wanted to see if or when Vi would be home.

It was nearing nine at night and Vi still hadn’t called you and your recent text went unanswered. The TV was playing a show, mostly used as background noise as your thoughts took over you.

Almost thirty minutes later, you could hear some noise coming from the hallway.

The door to the apartment opened and you could hear Vi humming a song to herself when she locked up for the night. From your spot on the couch, you saw nothing wrong with her so you were glad to know she was safe. But now she had to dig herself out of the hole she dug.

Vi actually seemed surprised to see you but the smile she gave you was instant. “Oh, hey, babe. Why are you still up?”

”Waiting for you,” you shot back, moving to get closer to her. “It’s been hours Vi, we all have been calling and texting you—“

Vi showed you her phone, a black screen staring back at you. “It died a while ago. What’s with the third degree?”

”Do you remember what day it is?”

”Um…the tenth?”

”Um, maybe it’s the day of my game that you’d promise to come to,” you mocked. Yeah, you were being petty but you thought she deserved it.

Vi muttered a small curse to herself and she looked genuinely apologetic. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear, I was going to come but then my phone died, and-and I was with Caitlyn and—“

A heavy sigh escaped you at the name. “Caitlyn, right yeah. That makes sense.”

A look came on Vi’s face, one you knew too well when she was about to become argumentative. “What are you talking about?”

”You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Vi,” you pointed out. “I’ve noticed it— we all have. You’re always with her.”

”We’re friends!”

”You’re friends with Jayce but when’s the last time you’ve hung out with him since meeting Caitlyn? Is she too rich for chargers so you couldn’t check your phone for five minutes?”

Vi scoffed at you. “What, you want me to stop hanging out with Caitlyn just because you’re jealous?”

”I have nothing to be jealous of, Violet!” You yelled. “Cait’s a friend, I get that. But you have been blowing me off time and time again for her. And the one time I actually needed you, you were with her instead. How the hell do you expect me to feel?”

A short pause came from Violet. And what she said next, set your skin aflame.

”I just think you’re overreacting. It’s a fucking game, I’ll just watch the next one.”

“Okay, you know what,” you paused, running your hands over your face; it didn’t do much to calm your heated nerves. “I’m not doing this with you, right now, Vi.”

Vi’s tense posture immediately changed at the tone of your voice; it was shaky, as if you were holding back tears. You almost never cried, at least in front of her, so the new sight was worrisome. She heard you breath in harshly before continuing.

“I’m way too upset at you right now to even finish this conversation,” you said quietly to her. “I’m tired…and honestly just want some space from you.”

Vi swore her heart stopped at those words. Space? “You…Y/N, you can’t be serious.” Space was the main thing Vi hated. It meant you leaving her.

”I am, actually.” Your back was turned from her at that point so you couldn’t see her face fall in disbelief at the sight of you getting ready to leave the apartment.

She knew you made up your mind and were done hearing her but Vi still had to try. “Babe, don’t go. You’re right, is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry, alright?”

”Glad you came to your senses,” you muttered, albeit bitterly.

Vi was desperate at this point. “You don’t have to leave! I can sleep out here!”

”When I said ‘space’, Vi, I meant completely,” you said. Your voice was starting to get tense, a tell that you were getting annoyed. “My parents live a few minutes away, remember? I'll be fine.”

”Y/N please, just—“

“Vi! I’ll…talk to you eventually,” was the last thing you said before the door closed behind you.

#vi x reader #arcane x reader #c: vi #myles writing

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muntitled · 15 days ago

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Housewife Blues

Pairings: Terry Richmond x Housewife!Reader

Summary: Operation making a baby

Warnings: Language, Traditional Gender Roles, Controlling!Terry, Daddy Issues, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Controlled Orgasm, Unprotected Sex

A/n: Reader literally calls him Daddy. Please don't read this if that's not your vibe.

When your days weren't spent caring for your home as an active military wife, you engaged in reading, crocheting, baking and positively, actively avoiding the southern housewives that haunted your sunny cul-de-sac. Terry knew you'd much rather be doing things alone when he was at work.

This woman was intruding on your alone time.

"We've got to stick together!" the woman had said, her voice dripped like her honeycomb hair haloing her head. You wouldn't have willingly opened the front door had you known she would be lurking on the other side. The amicable smile that was on your face was cracking.

You initially thought it might be your husband, come to surprise you, knocking off from work earlier than usual. All throughout the day, you had been eager to see him.

He had left you in quite the state this morning.

"Faster," he had commanded in that mahogany veneered voice as he watched you try and fail to give yourself even a sliver of the kind of pleasure you were used to. He liked watching you struggle to take your fingers that were far too small, nothing like his large, skillful hands that would drill into your cunt when you needed it to.

"Why are you slowing down?" He enquired calmly, his head leaning against the headboard as he watched you try to please yourself in order please him to the best of your abilities.

You were seated between his legs with your legs spread open. The only contact established between you two was your ass pressed against that bulge straining his boxers. If Terry was a lesser man, he'd forget that he was trying to teach you a lesson about coming without permission. If he wasn't so deeply wired with self control he mightve said fuck the lesson and pulled his cock out to slide inside your weeping cunt.

But he wasn't a lesser man.

And no matter how hard he got, he loved watching you struggle to make yourself cum.

"M'sorry okay?" Gone was the trace of bratiness in your tone. All that was left was a little girl's pathetic whine and even that made him harder.

"M'sorry, I wont cum without your permission again-" you craned your head back. Your cloudy hair moved across his chest as you met his eyes, "Please help me," you hoped eyes displayed your desperation. Even if that weren't enough you knew your next words would be. "Please, Daddy-" he made a sharp intake of breath and you knew you had him.

"I need y-"

"I need to go to work-"

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as the man behind you moved to rid himself of you.

"What!? You're just going to leave like that?!"

"Who're you talking to?" He had asked so calmly, with his head tilted, corralling you into absolute silence.

"I-"

"Give it' till this afternoon," he wasn't a complete monster. He kissed you on your forehead, making you feel whole even for a split second before ridding himself of you once again.

"Can you be good for me until this afternoon?" You loved when he did that. You loved when he spoke down at you, as if you weren't sporting numerous degrees. As if you weren't a fully autonomous woman.

You liked the break he gave you from thinking.

"I can." You had said. Completely determined not to touch yourself until he arrived home.

All day, your brain had been fuzzy with thoughts of him. 'The dangers of being a housewife', your best friend had called it. He was consuming your every thought. Your mind was plagued by images of him inside you. Your mouth. Your cunt. Your mind.

You had no time for this. Not time for her.

"We?" You reiterate with your head slightly tilted as you lean against the door you were itching to slam shut in her face. "We should stick together?" You asked it as if hoping to make sense of how in what world a woman like her and a woman like you might ever be classified as 'we'. In front of you stood the seemingly perfect example of a nuclear housewife. Poodle puff golden hair, bright eerie smile and a body that could reproduce, seemingly at will.

"Yes!" The blonde woman said, "Us wives of veterans, we need to stick together-"

"Oh-" you were in the process of shaking your head, "I- don't really see myself as a product of Terry's-"

"I think we should have a little meet up tonight! We'll wrangle up the husbands and the kids-"

"I've got no kids," You said so curtly it could've given anyone a harsh chill.

"You and Terry have no children?" Judging by the look on her face you could swear you've just admitted to some form of bio terrorism.

"No kids?" She nodded gravely. Far too gravely. "H-How interesting, well. That's okay! I'll just call our babysitter- She's a lovely girl. Hopefully you find someone like her when you and Terry finally get to it-"

"When her and Terry get to what?" You hadn't even heard that roar of the truck easing up the driveway, your mind had been far too plagued with images of your childless marriage to really pay it any mind. But you're very much of him now as he appears behind that stupid little housewife.

Like Pavlov's dog, your body and all its machinations react to the sound of Terry's voice alone.

The gravel that seemed to roll in his esophagus. The way he dwarves the woman taking up your precious time. He had finally come home, but here you were, being occupied by your neighbors, dressed in nothing except a tight fitting night dress.

"Oh Terry!" The woman said, hoping to steal his attention, despite his eyes remaining fastened on you, "How lovely to finally meet! I was just telling your lovely wife we should all have a family meet up- she informed me that you two don't want kids?"

"Have-" You said so quickly, "I said we don't have kids. Not that we don't want any."

Without sparing the woman another glance, Terry strolls past her. His large bicep squeezes you into the frame of the door as he walks up behind you but you don't mind. In fact you suddenly feel calmer in his shadow. Your nerves are both calm and set alight as he moves his heavy arms around your waist.

"You explained yourself?" He bends down, his lips pressed against your ear, "You didn't need to do that." Your mouth stammered open as the woman by your doorstep pales.

"Well- I was just enquiring-" the woman attempts to salvage the situation but Terry’s already pulling you into the house.

"We'll come back to you about the dinner-”

“We could set a date right now and-”

“Excuse me,” Terry says, “We gotta go make that baby we apparently don't want-” you catch a final glimpse of that woman. Her mouth stammered open.

Terry's leading you towards the couch and you follow him, your fingers wrapped around his pinky. You swallow heavily watching his back muscles contract.

He's so big.

So in control.

It has your mind swimming in the pools of subspace as he lowers his frame to the couch. He pulls you into his lap and you yelp as the skirts of your dress fan around his lap.

For a moment all is quiet.

You evade eye contact and he tries to hide his smile as he forces you to interlock your hands behind his neck while his titan hands meet around your waist. You were quite literally trapped.

“That woman probably isn't going to talk to me again after that little display of yours,” you mumble lowly and he chuckles softly as he brings his nose to the crook of your neck and he breathes in.

“Try not to sound so pleased about that.”

“I have to make friends, Terry-” your breath stammers when you feel his pillow lips open up until he's pressing his tongue to the sensitive skin by your neck.

“Did you touch yourself?” He asks and despite his words holding that usual sliver of control, you can feel the slight eagerness to his actions. His steadily hardening cock straining through the front of his jeans and his restless hands moving underneath the skirt of your dress.

“No, you told me not to.”

“I've told you not to do many things,” he presses another kiss to your temple and you breathe in rather sharply when his fingers reach your inner thigh. “Sometimes you don't give a shit about what I say.”

“I promise I didn't touch myself,” it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your mind descended into lechery as his fingers inched up your thigh and you opened your legs slightly. “Honest.”

“Should I check the cameras?” Your body tensed ever so slightly and for someone as observant as Terry was trained to be, you knew he spotted it.

“We have cameras?”

“You think I'd just leave you in this hick ass town alone throughout the day and not have cameras in the house?”

“Oh- well-”

“Doesn't matter if you touched yourself, does it?” Your breathing swells as his fingers finally connect with the seat of your panties. He adjusts himself underneath you. You're absolutely soaked.

“No one can make you cum like I do,” He whispers, sliding your panties to the side, “Not even you.”

Your eyes grow hazy as his fingers begin to play with your aching cunt. It's everything you've needed and more.

“Say it-” You're teetering on the edge of a complete mental check-out as his fingers rub your clit. You squirm on top of him, searching for the seating position that would let you grind down on his hand but he keeps you still.

“Fuck-” he groans and for a split moment, you're nearly close.

Until he pulls his fingers away and you're once again whining and squirming with no sense of relief.

“You can't just-”

In a series of fluid and swift movements, Terry moves you off of his lap. Your back hits the couch as he hovers over you.

“what're you doing-”

“You thought I was kidding about making that baby?” He asks, so incredibly serious as he undoes his belt buckle and all you're able to do is lay supine and take whatever he gives

According to your family, everything about Terry Richmond had been a seemingly blood red flag: from his overtly frightening countenance, to his slightly unnerving marine status.

He is nothing but menacing as he hovers above you, parting your legs before reaching inside his jeans.

“You're squirming too much,” he says, “You want the cuffs?” Your throat dried with the recollection of the previous tike Terry had slapped his cuffs over your wrist. He had quite literally used your cunt to milk his cock and there was nothing you could do about it.

Despite loving the memory, and the sharp thrill it shoots straight to your clit, you wanna touch him, and you tell him as much.

He groans before lowering himself towards you.

“Shouldn't I take off-”

“Keep the dress on,” he lifts your hips before spreading your legs, for a moment he gets lost at what he sees There underneath all the pink frills and tulle.

“I'm going to get you pregnant,” he promises before lifting his eyes to meet yours, “Any objections?”

He's not smiling. His eyes are deep and hypnotic and you move your hips as if so incredibly needy to take anything he gives.

“No objections,” You shake your head and your words die in your throat when you feel your panties be swiped to the side once again. Terry's restraining himself. You can see it in the veins popping out of his neck.

You're not sure why.

“Green or Red?” His Eyes lift to meet you and you can feel the head of his cock press against your tight opening.

“Red,” you respond. “You can be rough- i just need y- FUCK-” he thrusts inside you, bottoming out almost immediately.

You didn't need any prep because you were already soaking through your underwear but your cunt still fought To bully his cock back out.

“Th-That hurts-” you grit your teeth as he begins to thrust shallowly inside you, despite having already bottom out. It's like he's searching for somewhere deeper to go and you both groan out loud at the thought.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” He watched his cock slides back out completely before slamming it back in and you yelp at his brutal intrusion. It fulfills something ravenous in you, the way he lowers his hand to the side of your head before fucking into you with wreckless abandon.

“So fucking tight-”

“Fuckyoursobig-” your eyes are hollow and Terry knows from your slurred speech that you were fully in subspace.

“Shit- you tryna make me cum already, huh?”

Your bottom lips portudes and you look up at him, nodding dumbly, “You wanna be a good slut for your Daddy, don't you?”

The second he locks his thick palm around your throat, and you wear his hand like a collar, you're absolutely done for. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts and your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

“Such a fucking slut- shit-”

“Yo-Yours,” you moan, “Your slut-”

He immediately stills his hips before cursing aloud. Terry's lips crash down onto yours. A hungry kiss you weren't expecting but eagerly reciprocate.

“My pretty slut,” he nods his head in affirmation. patting down your head as if you always knew what to say. “That's right, baby.” You're bathed in the praise. You fucking absorbed it. “That's right, Clever Girl-”

“Oh my God, Daddy- please,” you lift your hips, urging him to continue drilling into you.

“You're such a good girl for me-” he continues to affirm as his hips move once more, “You gonna take my cun, aren't you, Pretty Girl? You gonna make Daddy proud and give him a baby-”

“Terry, ohmygod-” you can feel your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Ask.” He can see you teetering on the edge but his voice is dark and commanding. “You know better.” He warns. “Ask.”

“Please-” you search to hold onto something, anything that would stop you for cumming outright on your husband's cock, “Please let me cum, oh my god-”

He speeds up his own thrusts. Unbeknownst to you, your eagerness to take him, your whining and begging had him twitching inside you. It's like you became a vessel of his pleasure alone. You were good at that. You were good at making him the center of your universe.

“Cum for me, Pretty Girl.” It's all it takes for you to let yourself go completely. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Terry squeezes your throat, sending you flying amongst the clouds. You curse and scream and your cunt is suffocating his cock until he can't handle it anymore.

“Gonna cum,” he affirms, his voice tense and his muscles tight, “Gonna cum so fucking hard inside my Pretty Girl-” even he had his limits. Soon he wasn't able to say anything. His words bled into uncontrollable groans as he trusted a steady stream of cum inside you.

You're patting down on his tense muscles, urging him to part with every single drop.

You're full.

So utterly full it has you seeing stars.

“That ought'a do it.” He says.

He’s nice Terry again.

#terry richmond #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge #rebel ridge smut #rebel ridge fanfiction #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre x black reader

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faebled-stories · 3 months ago

Text

The Longest Month

Kinkvember Day 30: Orgasm Control/NNN

Kiss of life Natty (Anatchaya Suputtipong) x Male reader

21.8k words

AN: Last day of Kinkvember 🥹🥹 (might be a little rough on the editing, please forgive me)

Halloween night was alive with excitement. The crisp autumn air carried the sound of laughter, music, and the occasional howl of costumed revelers. Porchlights flickered over carved pumpkins, their grins twisted and glowing, while the streets buzzed with groups hopping from one party to the next. Inside your home, though, the atmosphere was calm and quiet, a comforting contrast to the chaos outside.

Natty stood by the door, dressed casually in fitted jeans and a snug sweater, her hair tied back in a way that framed her face perfectly. She smiled as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. "I’m heading out with the girls," she said, her tone light and cheerful. "Just a little Halloween fun, nothing wild."

You nodded, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you stepped closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Have fun,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Call me if you need anything.”

She grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slipping out the door. The soft click of it closing behind her left the house quiet again. For a while, you settled into the stillness, content to let the evening pass uneventfully. The trust between you was implicit—Natty had always been honest, and you’d always respected her freedom.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, an uneasy feeling began to creep in. It was subtle at first, a whisper of doubt that you tried to shake off. She’d said she was with her girlfriends. There was no reason to worry. Yet the stillness of the house suddenly felt heavy, oppressive, as if something was just slightly out of place.

The buzz of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts. You picked it up, your brow furrowing as you saw the name: a friend of yours who worked as a bartender downtown. Opening the message, your stomach tightened at the words.

“Didn’t know Natty was hitting the scene tonight. She’s here at Platinum—hard to miss in that outfit.”

You stared at the text, your mind racing. Platinum? She hadn’t said anything about going to a club. The unease bloomed into suspicion as you quickly typed back.

“What outfit?”

The response came almost instantly, and when you read it, the words landed like a punch.

“Catwoman vibes, but damn, man… It’s a lot. Skin-tight, zipper low, fake tail. People are definitely looking. ”

Your jaw clenched as you reread the message, disbelief and frustration battling for dominance. She hadn’t just gone somewhere else—she’d lied. And she was wearing something that sounded far removed from her usual playful confidence, something designed to draw attention. Strangers were ogling her.

You didn’t bother replying. The anger was cold and focused, sharpening your resolve as you grabbed your jacket. The night air bit at your skin as you stepped outside, but the chill only fueled the fire simmering in your chest. You didn’t rush, your stride purposeful as you made your way, thoughts churning.

The trust you’d built, the respect you’d shown her freedom—tonight, she’d crossed a line. And by the time you reached the glowing lights of the club, you knew exactly what needed to happen.

Platinum was everything you expected—a pulsing epicenter of energy, where music pounded through the walls and spilled onto the street. The air inside was heavy with heat, a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and perfume that clung to your skin. Strobe lights sliced through the crowd, casting fleeting glimpses of costumed bodies pressed together in a chaotic dance.

You pushed your way through the throng of people, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then you saw her.

Natty was on the dance floor, her body moving to the rhythm of the music. She wore a skintight black spandex one-piece, the zipper pulled low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Fake cat ears perched on her head, and a thin decorative tail swayed with her movements. The outfit clung to her curves like a second skin, catching the light with every turn.

She was laughing, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her lips parted as she threw herself into the moment. Strangers circled her, their eyes lingering too long, leaning in too close. She seemed utterly carefree, completely unaware of the storm brewing in you as you watched from the edge of the crowd.

She hadn’t told you about this. She hadn’t mentioned a club, or an outfit that looked like this. She had lied.

Your emotions churned—anger, disappointment, the sharp edge of control you always held carefully in balance. But you didn’t react impulsively. Instead, you moved through the crowd with purpose, your gaze fixed on her.

The crowd buzzed around her, bodies swaying in chaotic rhythm, the pulsing music drowning out everything else. Strobe lights flashed in bursts, illuminating her in snapshots—a vision of confidence and teasing allure. Her laughter was bright, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as she leaned toward a stranger who was speaking too close. The low zipper of her costume shimmered under the lights, her every move a magnet for attention.

You stepped closer, your presence cutting through the sea of people. The noise and chaos dulled in your mind, every ounce of focus fixed on her. As you approached, she didn’t notice at first, lost in the moment, the music, and the hazy buzz in her veins. But when you reached out and tapped her shoulder, everything shifted.

She turned to you, her laughter faltering. Wide eyes met yours, the realization hitting her instantly. The flush of the alcohol drained from her face, replaced by something colder—guilt, fear, and the dawning understanding of exactly what was happening. The crowd around her seemed to fade into the background, her focus locked entirely on you.

Her lips parted as though she might say something, but no words came. She froze, her body stiff, the haze of alcohol lifting just enough to make the weight of the situation clear.

“We’re going home,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the music with effortless authority.

The words were simple, but their effect was immediate. Her mouth snapped shut, and she nodded quickly, her head dipping in quiet submission. You didn’t wait for her to respond further. Without another word, you turned and began walking toward the exit, not sparing her another glance, not even taking her wrist to guide her. You didn’t need to. You knew she’d follow.

Behind you, her heels clicked against the sticky floor as she scrambled to keep up, weaving through the crowd. No one around her seemed to notice the shift in her demeanor, but you could feel it. The weight of her guilt, her submission, radiated in every hurried step as she followed you out of the club without needing to be told twice.

The crisp night air hit like a slap, the stark contrast to the heat and chaos inside. It was quieter out here, the muffled thump of the music still audible but distant. The autumn chill bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. Natty stayed close, her head bowed, her breath visible in the cold air. Her fake cat ears tilted slightly to one side, askew and crooked, as if even they reflected her subdued state.

She didn’t speak, and neither did you. The silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating, a clear signal that words weren’t needed. You led the way to the car, your steps purposeful, your jaw tight. Natty trailed behind, her head low, her shoulders hunched slightly as though trying to shrink under the weight of her own guilt. It wasn’t just her steps that were submissive—it was everything about her now, the way her presence shrank under your unwavering authority.

When you reached the car, your movements were calm, almost mechanical. You walked to her side, your expression neutral as you opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated for just a moment, her wide eyes flicking up to yours, searching for some indication of what you were feeling. But you gave her nothing, your face a mask of quiet control.

She slipped into the seat silently, her body tense as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her costume. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and the stillness inside the car was oppressive. You moved around to the driver’s side, sliding in and gripping the wheel, but you didn’t start the car right away. Instead, you stared ahead, your jaw set as your thoughts churned.

From the corner of your eye, you could see her shift uncomfortably. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers gripping the fabric of her costume tightly as though it could anchor her. It was clear she was waiting, bracing herself for the storm to come. But you didn’t say a word. You let the silence stretch, thick and heavy, the weight of what had happened settling deeper over both of you.

Finally, you turned the key, the engine rumbling to life. The car pulled out onto the street, the bright lights of the club fading quickly into the rearview mirror. The ride home was long, the silence between you stretching like a taut wire, ready to snap. She glanced at you occasionally, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak, to explain, but she stopped herself each time. The tension in the air was suffocating, every unspoken word weighing her down further.

You didn’t look at her. Your gaze stayed fixed on the road, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. Her silence told you everything. She knew she had crossed a line, knew the trust you’d placed in her had been broken. And now, for the first time tonight, it seemed she understood—she wasn’t just caught. She was yours, completely.

When you arrived home, the quiet of the house was almost deafening. The faint hum of the fridge, the soft click of the front door as it shut behind you, even her hesitant footsteps on the hardwood floor—all of it felt amplified against the heavy stillness. She lingered near the entryway, her body stiff, her hands clenching at her sides. You didn’t say anything, your expression unreadable as you walked toward the living room.

Settling into the couch, you glanced at her, your eyes sharp and commanding. The weight of your gaze was enough to draw her forward, her body moving instinctively as though compelled. She sank to her knees in front of you, the skintight material of her costume creaking softly with her movement. The faint glimmer of the fabric caught the low light of the room, but her focus was entirely on you.

Her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as she knelt there, waiting for your words, knowing that whatever came next would be entirely in your hands.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. You leaned back slightly, your arms crossed, letting her squirm under the weight of your gaze. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The subtle tilt of her cat ears seemed to mirror the unease radiating off her as she knelt before you, unable to meet your eyes.

“Explain,” you said finally, your voice low and sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Her head snapped up for just a moment, her wide, guilty eyes meeting yours before darting away again. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t think you’d let me go if I told you about the party. I thought you’d get mad about the outfit, about the people—so I lied.”

Her hands moved restlessly, fidgeting at the zipper of her costume, the nervous gesture small but telling. Her shoulders were tense, her entire posture shrinking under the intensity of your silence. She hesitated before speaking again, her voice growing quieter, more fragile. “It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t… trying to hide anything important.”

You let the words hang in the air, your expression unchanging as she squirmed. Her breathing hitched, her body trembling slightly as the weight of your silence pressed down on her. Her lip quivered, and she blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“That’s not the point,” you said finally, your voice cold and deliberate. “It’s not about the outfit. It’s not about the party. It’s about trust. And you broke it.”

Her shoulders slumped further, her head bowing again as the full weight of your words hit her. She nodded faintly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

“When,” you asked, leaning forward slightly, “have I ever not let you go anywhere?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and glassy. The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she stared at you as though searching for the answer herself. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“When have I forbidden you from wearing the most revealing outfits?” Your voice softened slightly, but the disappointment still lingered in your tone. “When, Natty? Tell me.”

Her lips trembled, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “You haven’t,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely reached you.

You nodded slowly, letting the truth sink in for her. “Exactly. I’ve always let you make your own choices. Always given you permission. And yet, you still lied to me. Why?”

The tears she had been holding back finally spilled, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I… I don’t know,” she choked out, her hands gripping the hem of her costume tightly. “I was stupid. I didn’t want you to be mad, and I—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

You sighed deeply, letting the moment stretch, the weight of her guilt hanging between you like a tangible presence. Her fidgeting hands, the way her eyes darted to the floor, her lips trembling with barely spoken words—it all told you that she knew the gravity of what she’d done. And yet, the lesson needed to be clear. Trust wasn’t just something taken lightly in your dynamic; it was the foundation upon which everything else rested.

You considered your options carefully, your mind cycling through potential punishments, discarding each one almost as quickly as it appeared. Something physical? No, that wouldn’t linger in the way you needed it to. Silence? Distance? Those would create tension, but not the kind that would truly drive the lesson home. Then, like a light flickering on, the perfect answer surfaced—a punishment so fitting it almost seemed like the universe had handed it to you on a silver platter.

No Nut November.

The trend was a joke to most, a playful challenge making its rounds on the internet. But for Natty, it would be anything but playful. You knew her intimately, perhaps better than she even knew herself. Her teasing confidence, her constant craving for closeness, her love for release—it was part of who she was. Denying her that for an entire month wasn’t just a punishment. It was a torment. Something she would dread deeply and feel every moment of every day. And the timing was flawless.

Your lips curved into a faint smirk as you settled your gaze on her. She hadn’t dared to meet your eyes, her hands twisting nervously at the hem of her skirt as though trying to anchor herself. You let the silence stretch, letting the weight of the moment build until it felt almost suffocating. Then, your voice broke the stillness, calm and deliberate.

“If you’d been honest,” you began slowly, your tone measured, each word sinking deep, “I would have let you go. I wouldn’t have cared about the outfit, the party, or the people. But you lied, Natty. And now, there are consequences.”

Her head snapped up, her wide, fearful eyes locking onto yours. You saw the desperation there, the faint tremor in her lower lip as her mind raced to catch up with your words. “Consequences?” she echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word trembling on her lips as though she were afraid to give it shape.

You straightened in your seat, the decision crystallizing as you delivered it with calm finality. “You’re going a month without cumming,” you said simply. “Starting now.”

Her reaction was immediate. She flinched as though struck, her lips parting in shock, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. “A… a month?” she stammered, her voice pitching higher, the disbelief and panic unmistakable. “No—please, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that—please!”

You raised a hand, the gesture silencing her instantly. Her mouth snapped shut, her breath catching audibly as her wide eyes remained locked on you, pleading silently. “No exceptions,” you said firmly, your voice steady, brooking no argument. “This isn’t just about the lie. It’s about trust. Trust needs to be earned back.”

For a moment, she was frozen, her chest heaving as she stared at you, her mind clearly working to process the weight of what you’d said. Then, slowly, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze dropped to the floor. The first tears shimmered in her eyes, catching the light, but she held them back with visible effort.

Her voice was small, trembling with guilt and something deeper—fear. “I… I understand,” she whispered, the words fragile and full of resignation.

“Good.” Your tone softened just slightly, enough to let her know you weren’t angry anymore, though the weight of your authority remained. “Go to the bedroom. We’re done here.”

She stood slowly, her movements hesitant and stiff, as though her body were fighting against her mind’s compliance. The faint click of her heels on the hardwood floor was the only sound as she retreated down the hallway. Her posture was smaller than usual, her confident aura replaced by something subdued, vulnerable. There was no defiance in her steps, no attempt to bargain further—only quiet acceptance of her fate.

As she disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of rustling sheets filtering back to you, you let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. The tension in your chest eased slightly, replaced by a calm satisfaction. You weren’t angry anymore. This wasn’t about revenge or punishment for its own sake. It was about re-establishing the foundation that held everything together—trust.

You sank into the couch, the weight of the moment settling over you like a heavy blanket. The balance you’d struck was delicate, but you knew it was necessary. Natty needed this, not just to understand the gravity of her actions but to grow from it. Deep down, you knew she would.

-----

The first few days passed in an uneasy stillness. The house, once filled with Natty’s teasing comments and playful laughter, now seemed quieter, the air heavier. Her usual spark had dimmed, her presence muted in a way that was both unfamiliar and telling. She moved through the rooms carefully, her steps softer, her gaze lowered whenever she passed you. It wasn’t fear—far from it. It was something deeper: submission edged with guilt.

She stayed busy, as though keeping her hands occupied would prevent her thoughts from spiraling. She fetched your coffee before you asked, setting it down with a barely audible, “Here you go.” She folded blankets that didn’t need folding, straightened things that were already straight, her hands fidgeting when there was nothing left to do. Her movements were deliberate, every action laced with a quiet hope that her obedience might earn her reprieve.

When she thought you weren’t watching, she allowed herself quick glances in your direction, her eyes searching for any hint of forgiveness. But when you met her gaze, her expression flickered, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. She brushed against your side tentatively in passing, her fingers grazing your arm or shoulder as if testing the waters. Each time, you remained composed, offering no indication that her efforts were noticed.

The absence of reaction clearly unsettled her. For a moment, it almost seemed like she thought you’d forgotten about her punishment. But even then, the unspoken tension lingered between you, a quiet hum that grew louder with every passing hour.

By the third day, the shift in her behavior was undeniable. The subtle signs of restlessness began to creep in. She wrung her hands more often, her fingers twisting and untwisting as she tried to channel her growing nervous energy. When she sat, her knees bounced slightly, her body refusing to stay still. Her cheeks flushed more frequently, a faint pink that deepened whenever you entered the room. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the need was beginning to stir—a slow, creeping sensation she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It was most evident when you were close to her. In the kitchen, as you stood near her to reach for something, she froze momentarily, the proximity sending a jolt through her. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to keep them occupied with a dish she was already drying.

“Something wrong?” you asked casually, your voice calm but pointed.

“N-no,” she stammered quickly, shaking her head. Her cheeks burned, and she turned away, her movements stiff as she set the dish down. She didn’t look at you, but the tension in her posture told you everything.

Later that evening, as you sat on the couch reading, she lingered in the doorway, clearly uncertain about what to do. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. When she finally stepped forward, she stopped a few feet away, her voice hesitant.

“Do you… need anything?” she asked softly, her words laced with hope.

You didn’t look up, turning a page instead. “No,” you said simply, your tone neutral.

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she nodded, retreating back to the other room. The disappointment in her expression was brief, but it was there. You watched her go, noting the way her hands brushed against her thighs, as though grounding herself against the slow, creeping need she hadn’t yet put a name to.

As the hours stretched into night, the tension in her body became more visible. When she settled into bed, she shifted restlessly beneath the sheets, her breathing uneven. The faint sound of the fabric rustling was the only indication of her growing discomfort, but it was enough to bring a faint smirk to your lips. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the punishment was beginning to take root. It was slow, deliberate, and exactly as it was meant to be.

Deep down, Natty must have known it too. But she clung to a fragile hope—a thought that if she waited long enough, if she behaved perfectly, you might let it pass without incident. It was wishful thinking, and you could see in her eyes that she already knew the truth.

It was late one evening, the kind of night where the house seemed to hum with a stillness that amplified every creak, every shift in the air. You stepped through the door, the long day weighing on your shoulders, your muscles tight with tension. The faint scent of Natty’s perfume greeted you before the soft shuffle of her footsteps reached your ears. She appeared in the entryway, her eyes bright but edged with a nervous energy that seemed to hover around her like a second skin.

Her smile was warm but hesitant, her hands clasped in front of her as if holding herself in place. She moved closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm as she reached for your coat. “Welcome home,” she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You nodded, a soft grunt of acknowledgment as you shrugged off your coat. The day’s weight still clung to you, the dull ache in your chest begging for rest. Before you could fully step past her, she moved again, her hand resting lightly on your chest. Then her lips brushed yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a whisper of warmth against the chill of the day. Her hands stayed light, one on your chest, the other grazing your shoulder, her body leaning in closer. For a moment, you let her, the subtle press of her mouth drawing you into the moment. She tasted faintly of mint, her lips warm and pliant as the kiss deepened.

She didn’t stop there. Her movements grew bolder, her body pressing flush against yours as her hands began to move. They trailed down to the edges of your collar, her fingertips brushing along your neck before drifting to the first button of your shirt. Her lips parted slightly, her breath mingling with yours, hot and heavy with quiet desperation. The faintest whimper escaped her throat as she tilted her head, pressing harder into the kiss, pouring everything into it.

You let her guide you toward the couch, her steps slow but deliberate. The kiss stayed connected, her lips never leaving yours as she coaxed you backward until the edge of the cushions met the back of your legs. You sank down, and she followed, her knees sliding on either side of your lap as she straddled you. Her hands moved more urgently now, gripping your shirt, her nails scraping lightly against the fabric as her hips shifted just enough to press her body closer.

She kissed you like she was unraveling, her fingers trembling slightly as she worked on the buttons of your shirt. Her breath came faster, her chest rising and falling against yours. For her, the rest of the world had disappeared—there was only you, the connection between you, and the fleeting hope that she could escape the boundaries you had set. Her need was palpable, her body leaning into yours with a quiet desperation that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

Then she reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers curling around the loose fabric and tugging it upward slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. The motion was subtle, almost hesitant, but it carried with it an unspoken plea. It wasn’t calculated—just instinct, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the quiet tension and the simmering need she felt.

And just like that, the moment shifted.

You pulled back, your movement deliberate, breaking the kiss with a soft, almost imperceptible sound. Her breath caught audibly, her lips hovering in the space where yours had been, the warmth of you replaced by a cool absence that felt more striking than any words you could have spoken.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her expression flickered with confusion. Slowly, realization dawned, her cheeks flushing as she started to pull back further. Before she could, you pressed a hand gently to her shoulder—not harsh, but firm enough to still her completely.

“You’re still on punishment,” you said, your tone calm and measured, like a quiet storm.

Her lips parted slightly, a faint sound escaping them, almost like an aborted protest. Her gaze darted downward, her fingers loosening their hold on your shirt. “I wasn’t—” she started, her voice faltering. “I just thought—maybe if…”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting as her words trailed off into nothing. The faint blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck, her hands falling limply into her lap. She took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady herself. “I didn’t mean to push,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Your hand left her shoulder, and you leaned back slightly, studying her. The tension in her posture betrayed her unease, though she stayed seated in your lap, her legs tucked to either side of you. Her lips pressed together faintly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“You thought what?” you asked after a beat, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority. “That I’d just forget the boundaries I’ve set? That I’d let this slide?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly, her breathing uneven. “No,” she admitted softly. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d…” She didn’t finish the sentence, her words dissolving into silence.

You watched her carefully, the weight of your gaze enough to keep her still. After a moment, you guided her gently off your lap. She slid to the floor without resistance, her knees brushing the rug as she sank down in front of you. Her head dipped slightly, her posture shrinking as the realization of her overstep settled in.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

You stood, the couch creaking softly as you rose. Without another word, you stepped past her, your movements calm and deliberate. The sound of your footsteps faded as you left her kneeling there, the room suddenly feeling much emptier than before.

She didn’t move, her knees rooted to the spot, her hands resting limply in her lap. Her lips still tingled faintly from the kiss, a reminder of what had been taken away. Even as she stared at the space where you’d been, she couldn’t shake the growing realization: this wasn’t just a punishment. It was a reminder that, no matter what she thought she wanted, you were still in control.

-----

The days stretched into weeks, each one blurring into the next as Natty’s punishment continued. She tried to keep herself busy, focusing on tasks that didn’t need doing—organizing drawers, folding laundry that didn’t need folding—but it wasn’t long before the edges of her composure began to fray. The need was slow, insidious, creeping into her thoughts in moments of stillness until it was all-consuming.

Her usual spark had dulled, replaced by a quiet, simmering tension that followed her everywhere. She hovered near you constantly, her movements soft but deliberate, as though being close to you might ease the ache inside her. Every time you passed, her breath caught, and her gaze lingered on you, her wide eyes betraying the growing desperation she tried so hard to keep hidden.

You caught her once standing in the doorway, her hand resting against the frame as she watched you from a distance. When your eyes met, she flushed, her lips parting as though to say something, but no words came. Instead, she turned away quickly, her shoulders tight with frustration, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet house.

But it wasn’t just the way she lingered. Her body betrayed her in other ways. The subtle tremor in her hands when she handed you your coffee, the way her fingers brushed against yours just a little too long, the way she bit her lip whenever you were close. She moved with an air of quiet submission, her every action laced with the unspoken hope that her obedience might draw you closer, might break the walls of the punishment you’d set.

You didn’t respond. You stayed composed, calm, offering no indication that you even noticed. And it drove her mad.

One evening, you stepped into the bedroom to find Natty perched on the edge of the bed. Her body was tense, shoulders hunched forward as though trying to fold into herself. In her hands, she clutched one of your shirts. The loose fabric was balled tightly, her knuckles whitening from the grip. She raised it to her face, burying her nose in it as her eyes fluttered closed. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, trembling breaths, the motion betraying her quiet desperation.

As she inhaled deeply, the faintest of shudders coursed through her body. The scent was faint but unmistakable—yours. It seemed to wrap around her, filling her senses with a comfort that only deepened the ache inside her. Her fingers curled tighter around the shirt, her grip almost possessive, as though letting go would sever her last tether to reality.

Her mind was a swirl of emotion. The warmth of your scent grounded her, but it also made her keenly aware of how much she missed you, how much she craved what she’d been denied. The ache in her chest spread downward, settling low in her belly, where it twisted and coiled into something almost unbearable. She didn’t know if the shirt soothed her or made the longing worse. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop herself.

Her lips parted slightly, a soft, shaky exhale escaping as she took another deep breath. The blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck and ears, as her thoughts spiraled. She hated how much she needed this—how much she needed you. The vulnerability stung, but she couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop herself from clinging to the one thing that made her feel closer to you.

“Natty.”

Your voice cut through the quiet like a blade, sharp and firm. Her head snapped up instantly, her wide eyes locking onto yours. The guilt hit her like a wave, and her hands jerked as though the shirt had suddenly burned her. It slipped from her fingers, falling to her lap, but the stain of her actions remained etched across her flushed features.

“I… I wasn’t—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she scrambled to her feet. Her hands fumbled at the fabric in her lap, twisting it nervously as her gaze darted to the floor. The crimson in her cheeks deepened, and her breathing turned uneven, a telltale sign of the storm raging inside her.

You didn’t move, your calm, steady presence only intensifying her discomfort. You didn’t need to say anything else. The silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping as she lowered her head in submission. The weight of your authority hung in the air, undeniable and absolute, until it crushed what little resolve she had left.

For the rest of the week, the cracks in her composure deepened. She lingered near you constantly, finding excuses to hover in your space. When you moved from one room to another, she followed quietly, her steps soft but deliberate. She never said much, but her presence was loud enough. When you passed her, her hand would brush against you, just lightly, as though testing your reaction. When you stood still for too long, she drifted closer, her breath hitching every time you turned in her direction.

Her need became a part of everything she did. The way her eyes flicked toward you incessantly, searching for any sign of indulgence. The subtle way her body leaned toward yours instinctively, drawn by a gravitational pull she couldn’t fight. She stopped trying to hide it—her longing was written into every motion, every glance, every trembling breath.

By the second week, it consumed her completely. Her confidence crumbled under the weight of her desperation, leaving her raw and exposed. Even her voice, when she dared to speak, carried the faintest quaver, as though each word threatened to betray her. The ache was no longer confined to moments of stillness; it was a constant presence, burning beneath her skin, coiling low in her belly, and leaving her trembling.

-----

Natty sat at home one day, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, trying to distract herself from the relentless need that had consumed her for weeks. Her body felt like a tightly coiled spring, every small movement amplifying the ache that lingered low in her belly. The sound of her phone buzzing startled her, and she glanced at the screen.

"Bedroom by the time I’m home. Naked."

The simplicity of the message made her heart race. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly as she reread the words, the weight of your command settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her breath hitched, and a nervous tremor coursed through her. She didn’t even need to think—her body moved on instinct.

She stood quickly, her hands trembling as she began to undress. Each piece of clothing she removed felt like shedding a layer of protection, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. The cool air of the house kissed her bare skin, sending a shiver up her spine. By the time she reached the bed, her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

Kneeling, she positioned herself carefully, her body already quivering with a mix of nervous anticipation and lingering need. She rested on all fours, her breathing uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she waited. The silence of the house felt deafening, the seconds stretching into eternity. She couldn’t help the thoughts that raced through her mind: Would this be her release? Would you finally touch her, grant her the relief she craved? Or would this be another lesson in patience, another test of her endurance?

The sound of the front door opening made her freeze. Her breath caught, her body tensing as she listened to your deliberate movements. The faint rustle of your belongings being set down sent a thrill through her, each noise heightening her anticipation. She stayed perfectly still, her hands gripping the sheets lightly, her heart threatening to leap from her chest.

When your footsteps finally approached the bedroom, she felt the weight of your presence before you even spoke. The door opened, and your gaze swept over her. She didn’t dare lift her head, but she felt the heat of your eyes on her bare skin. Her body trembled under your scrutiny, the vulnerability making her both anxious and exhilarated.

“Stand up,” your voice broke the silence, calm but commanding.

She rose immediately, though her legs wobbled slightly as she obeyed. She felt utterly exposed under your watchful eyes, her arms twitching as though to cover herself, but she stopped. Your steady gaze and the faint shake of your head froze her in place. Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers trembling as she fought the urge to shield herself.

“Bathroom,” you instructed, your tone firm and leaving no room for argument. “Stay still.”

Natty moved quickly, her bare feet making no sound as she positioned herself in the bathroom doorway. Her body was taut with nervous energy, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides as she worked to follow your command. Her breathing was already shallow, her lips parted, and her wide eyes tracked your every move.

You began to undress deliberately, unhurried, letting her watch. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as you slid your shirt from your shoulders, revealing the defined lines of your chest. Her gaze clung to you, her lips pressing together as her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. When your hands moved to your belt, her eyes followed like a magnet, locking onto the motion with an intensity that sent a faint flush across her cheeks.

As you stepped out of your pants, she froze completely. Her gaze darted lower, landing on the growing outline beneath your boxers, and her breath caught audibly. She tried to pull her eyes away, but they kept flicking back, lingering with a desperation she could no longer hide. It was as though everything else in the room had vanished, her world narrowing to just you—your movements, your body, and the aching need she felt burning inside her.

You stepped into the shower without a word, the sound of water cascading over your skin breaking the silence. The steam began to fill the room, curling around her, but her attention never wavered. The glass doors left nothing to the imagination, and her eyes locked onto you again, trailing down your chest to your stomach, and then lower.

Her breathing grew heavier, each rise and fall of her chest more pronounced as her thighs shifted subtly. She pressed them together, a faint, instinctive movement that she clearly hoped would go unnoticed. But it didn’t. You saw every motion, every tremor that betrayed how much effort it took for her to stand still.

“Still,” you said, your voice firm but calm, cutting through the thick haze of her longing.

Her legs froze immediately, though her body trembled slightly with the strain of holding herself back. Her gaze flicked up to your face briefly, an almost guilty glance, before dropping again. It didn’t take long for her eyes to return to the same place, fixed on the growing evidence of your arousal.

The effort to control herself was evident in every line of her frame. Her hands flexed at her sides, her fingers curling and uncurling as though fighting the urge to reach out. Her lips parted again, a faint, shaky exhale escaping as her gaze remained fixed, unable to look away.

When you turned slightly, letting the water run down your back, she shifted almost imperceptibly. Her chest rose and fell quicker now, her thighs pressing together again, the motion more noticeable this time. The faintest glisten of sweat began to form on her skin, mixing with the steam around her, as though her body were reacting to a heat only she could feel.

After finishing your shower, you stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around your waist. Her eyes followed the motion, flicking downward for just a second too long. When you reached for another towel to dry your hair, her gaze returned, locking onto the outline beneath the fabric.

Her breathing hitched audibly, and she swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. She wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore—her need radiated off her in waves, the desperation plain in the way her lips pressed together, her body trembling with restraint.

“Back to the bed,” you said, your tone steady.

She turned quickly, her body moving as though it could barely keep up with the frantic pace of her mind. Every step toward the bedroom echoed with the quiet desperation she could no longer hide. As she lay back on the bed, her movements were both eager and hesitant, her hands twitching at her sides as though fighting the urge to reach out and pull you closer. Her breathing was shallow, each inhale trembling slightly, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms.

When you joined her, her heart raced, the anticipation almost unbearable. Was this it? Had her obedience finally earned her a reprieve? The thought flickered through her mind like a fragile spark, and she clung to it desperately. Maybe this is his way of letting me off early, she thought. Maybe I’ve been good enough.

You didn’t speak, but the weight of your gaze on her was intoxicating. Her body reacted instinctively, her legs parting slightly as you shifted closer. When your hand started at her knee, trailing upward along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, her breath hitched audibly. Her thighs parted further, almost of their own accord, inviting your touch. Her skin quivered beneath your fingers, every nerve ending coming alive as you moved deliberately, your strokes maddeningly slow and controlled.

She bit her lip, a soft whine escaping her as her hips shifted slightly toward your hand, seeking more. Her need was evident now, radiating off her in waves, but the moment her movement betrayed her impatience, you stopped. Your eyes narrowed, and the sternness in your gaze was enough to freeze her in place.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and even.

The praise sent a visible shiver through her. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body reacted involuntarily. A faint sheen of wetness betrayed her growing arousal, glistening faintly in the dim light of the room. The ache inside her deepened, spreading like fire through her veins, and the thought of finally being allowed to release burned brighter in her mind.

Your fingers trailed closer, brushing along the edge of her folds with maddening precision. You never gave her exactly what she needed, staying just millimeters away, the teasing strokes pushing her closer to the edge without letting her fall. Her breaths grew shallow, her chest heaving as her back arched slightly off the bed.

She whimpered, the sound barely audible but filled with a desperation that was impossible to ignore. Her slickness spread, catching the light, her body leaking uncontrollably as her arousal built to a fever pitch.

And then, just as your fingers hovered over the place where her need was most concentrated, you pulled away.

The gasp that escaped her was almost a sob. Her hips jerked upward reflexively, as though her body couldn’t accept the sudden absence of your touch. Her eyes snapped open, wide and pleading, the longing in them unrestrained. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, her lips trembling as though she might beg. But the sternness in your gaze silenced whatever words she might have been about to say.

“Go to sleep,” you said, your voice calm and final.

Her heart sank, the weight of your command hitting her like a tidal wave. She stared at you for a long moment, her body frozen, her lips parting slightly as though to protest. But she caught herself, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she nodded shakily. Slowly, she sank back against the mattress, her body sinking into the sheets as though the effort to fight was too much.

You lay down beside her, the bed shifting slightly under your weight. The warmth of your body was close enough to feel but impossibly far from the relief she craved. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in trembling rhythms as her legs shifted restlessly beneath the sheets. She pressed her thighs together, her hips rocking slightly in a futile attempt to ease the tension that burned through her like wildfire.

Her eyes fluttered closed, though she knew sleep would be impossible. Her body pulsed with frustration, every nerve ending alight with unfulfilled desire. She could still feel the ghost of your touch on her skin, the teasing brush of your fingers that had come so maddeningly close.

Beside her, you remained composed, your breathing calm, your presence steady and unattainable. The quiet was oppressive, the tension between you palpable as the minutes stretched into hours.

Her mind spiraled as reality sank in—this wasn’t relief. It wasn’t a reprieve. It was another lesson in control, another reminder of who held the power. And as her body burned with the ache of denial, the truth became inescapable: tonight wouldn’t bring her release. It would only deepen the longing that consumed her.

-----

The final week of November arrived, and Natty was barely holding it together. The days had grown heavier, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours as her body and mind simmered with unrelenting tension. The month-long denial had pushed her to her limits, leaving her restless and sensitive to every touch, every glance, every moment in your presence. This wasn’t just a punishment—it was a slow unraveling, and the last week felt like it might break her entirely.

By mid-afternoon, as she paced through the kitchen for the third time that day, her phone buzzed on the counter, cutting through the quiet. She grabbed it quickly, her heart giving a small jolt as she saw the group chat lighting up.

“Eclipse tonight! Drinks on me. You’re coming, right?” Belle’s message was followed by a string of emojis, the energy infectious even through the screen. Natty’s gaze lingered on the words as more messages poured in.

“You better not flake again, Natty!” Julie added with a laughing emoji.

“I’m wearing heels for the first time in a year for this. Be there. No excuses!” chimed Haneul.

The idea of going out with her friends, laughing and dancing the night away, was tempting. For a brief moment, she imagined herself letting loose, the music drowning out her thoughts, her body moving freely in the dim lights of the club. It sounded perfect—exactly what she needed.

And yet, something held her back.

Her gaze lifted from the phone to the living room, where you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone with your usual calm demeanor. She watched you for a moment, her chest tightening with a strange sense of unease. The thought of leaving the house, of being away from you, felt heavier than it should have. It wasn’t fear, exactly—more like a quiet, unshakable pull to stay near you, as though the distance would only amplify the ache she already felt.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking her thoughts. “Natty, don’t make me beg! 😘 Eclipse is calling your name!” Belle was relentless, as always.

Natty paced the kitchen, her fingers tightening around her phone as her thoughts churned. Her friends wouldn’t understand. They’d tell her she was overthinking it, that a night out was exactly what she needed. But they didn’t know what she was going through. They didn’t know how the last few weeks had left her raw and vulnerable, every nerve in her body on edge. And they didn’t understand the quiet, powerful pull that kept her close to you.

Summoning her courage, she stepped into the living room. “My friends want me to go out,” she said, her voice soft and uncertain.

You looked up briefly, meeting her gaze with an easy calm. “Sure,” you replied, your tone steady. “Go if you want.”

The simplicity of your answer caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her lips parting in surprise. She had expected… something else. Guidance, hesitation, maybe even a hint of disapproval. Instead, your response was so casual, so sincere, it left her more conflicted than ever.

“You’re… okay with it?” she asked, her tone cautious.

“Of course,” you said, your expression neutral. “If you want to go, you should.”

Natty blinked, caught between disbelief and confusion. Her gaze searched your face, looking for any trace of hesitation, but found none. The ease of your answer left her more conflicted than before, and a strange pang of guilt settled in her chest.

“Really? You don’t mind?” she pressed, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her persistence. “I don’t mind, Natty. It’s your decision.”

She nodded slowly, retreating a few steps to sit on the chair across from you. Her phone buzzed again, her friends filling the group chat with plans for the night. Outfits, drinks, excitement—it was all there, pulling her in. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a reply only to erase it again.

She glanced back at you. “You’re… really okay with me going?” she asked again, her voice even softer this time.

You met her gaze evenly. “I said I was. It’s your call, Natty.”

The finality in your words settled over her like a weight. The decision was hers—fully, completely hers—and yet the idea of leaving felt wrong. Her chest tightened, her stomach knotting with a mix of frustration and longing she couldn’t quite place.

With a deep breath, she typed: “Can’t make it, sorry.”

Her finger hovered over the send button, the decision catching in her chest for just a moment before she pressed it. The message disappeared into the chat, and a strange mix of relief and frustration flooded her.

When she looked back at you, she couldn’t help but ask one last time, “You’re really not upset?”

You glanced at her, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Not at all,” you said simply, returning your attention to your phone.

The sincerity in your tone surprised her, and she sank back into the chair, her phone now dark in her hand. The quiet buzz of the house resumed, but her mind was still spinning. She had made the decision herself—without pressure, without guidance—and as unsettling as that was, a small part of her felt… content.

The thought of staying near you, of not letting that distance grow, settled warmly in her chest. And as she sat there, the sound of your steady breathing grounding her, she knew she’d made the choice she truly wanted.

-----

The evening had settled in, darkness blanketing the world outside as the soft glow of a table lamp cast warm light across the living room. The house was quiet, a serene contrast to the distant hum of the night’s activity beyond the walls. You sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, the faint murmur of the television filling the stillness. The simplicity of the moment was grounding, a calm that belied the tension that had simmered between you and Natty over the past weeks.

She lingered in the doorway, hesitant but drawn to you, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn’t left the house since your conversation, her friends’ messages still buzzing occasionally in the background, unanswered. Finally, gathering her courage, she stepped into the room, her footsteps soft against the hardwood.

You glanced up from the remote, your eyes meeting hers. Her expression was conflicted, a mix of vulnerability and determination. “Why didn’t you go with your friends?” you asked, your tone calm but curious.

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I…” Her voice faltered for a moment before she took a deep breath. “I just… didn’t feel like going,” she said, though the truth was far more layered. Her eyes darted away, betraying the nerves she tried to suppress.

Your gaze stayed steady, unyielding, as you leaned back slightly. “That’s not an answer, Natty,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind. “Tell me the truth.”

Her shoulders stiffened for a moment before she relented, her gaze flickering back to yours. “I wanted to stay here,” she admitted softly, her cheeks warming with a faint blush. “With you.”

The simplicity of her words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now. For a moment, you didn’t respond, letting the weight of her confession linger. Then, slowly, the faintest smile curved your lips, a warm, genuine expression that made her shoulders relax slightly.

“Come here,” you said, your voice steady but soft, a quiet command that carried more weight than the words alone. “Sit on my lap.”

Natty appeared almost immediately, her movements automatic, her body responding before her mind could process. She climbed onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours as she settled against you. The heat of her body radiated through her clothes, her breathing already shallow as your hands found her waist, grounding her.

Your hands didn’t linger long. They slid upward, brushing over the curve of her chest, and she gasped softly, her back arching slightly into your touch. There was no hesitation in the way you began to knead her, your fingers flexing firmly through the thin fabric of her shirt. She let out a soft whimper, her body reacting to every squeeze, her head tilting forward as though offering herself completely.

“Take it off,” you murmured, your voice low but firm.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. She discarded it to the floor, her chest now bare, rising and falling with her quickened breaths. The faint flush across her skin deepened as your eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her exposed form.

Your hands moved back to her now-bare chest, your palms warm against her skin as you groped her fully. She gasped again, louder this time, the sound breaking into a soft moan as your thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks of her nipples. Her hips shifted instinctively against you, the motion subtle but telling, her body betraying the growing wetness between her legs.

Your lips followed your hands, pressing softly against her neck before trailing lower. The faint scent of her skin filled your senses, sweet and intoxicating as you kissed along her collarbone. She tilted her head back, giving you full access, her body trembling as your mouth continued its slow descent.

When your lips finally closed around one of her nipples, her reaction was immediate. She let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her back arched. You alternated between gentle licks and firmer pressure, your tongue swirling in deliberate, teasing circles. Your other hand remained on her chest, squeezing and kneading with steady precision, while your thumb flicked against the neglected peak.

Her breathing grew erratic, her soft gasps turning into moans as her head tilted forward again, her lips brushing against your ear as she whimpered. “Please…” The word was barely audible, trembling with desperation as her body pressed closer to yours.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you bit down lightly, your teeth grazing against her nipple before soothing the skin with your tongue. Her whole body jolted, her thighs clenching around your lap as another moan escaped her lips. Your free hand slid lower, gripping her hip firmly to keep her steady as her movements grew more frantic.

The wetness between her legs became impossible to ignore, the faint sound of her arousal audible as her hips shifted against you. She was trembling now, completely lost in the moment, her body responding instinctively to every touch, every kiss, every firm squeeze of your hands.

“God,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her nails raked lightly against your shoulders. “I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you murmured against her skin, your voice low and commanding. “You can.”

Your mouth returned to her chest, alternating between each peak, your tongue and teeth teasing her with perfect precision. She was leaking now, her arousal spreading across the thin fabric of her panties, soaking through to the point where you could feel the dampness against your lap.

Just as she seemed ready to tip over the edge, her hips pressing harder against you, her chest arching fully into your mouth, you pulled back.

The sudden absence of your touch left her gasping, her eyes snapping open in disbelief. Her lips parted, trembling as though she might beg, but the look in your eyes stopped her. Her body stilled, though her thighs continued to tremble, the tension coiling tighter inside her with every second of denial.

You leaned back into the couch, a faint smirk playing on your lips as you let your gaze linger on her flushed skin, the evidence of her arousal impossible to miss.

“You know what I want.” you said, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority.

Her breath hitched audibly, her wide, hazy eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation now. She shifted off your lap, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to your shorts. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down slowly, her lips parting as her focus shifted entirely to you.

As the fabric slid away, revealing the full length of you, Natty's breath hitched audibly. Her gaze locked on you, her wide eyes taking in every inch with unabashed admiration. No matter how many times she saw you like this, she could never fully get over it—the sheer size, the thickness, the way it was always all for her. Her tongue darted out reflexively, wetting her lips as though in anticipation, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

The faint musk of your arousal filled the air, heady and intoxicating, and she inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Her thighs pressed together, an unconscious response to the ache that flared inside her. When her eyes opened again, they were darker, her pupils blown wide with longing, her lips trembling slightly as she leaned closer.

Her fingers hovered hesitantly before curling around your base, the warmth of her touch sending a faint tremor through her own body. She brought her face closer, her nose brushing lightly against you as she took in your scent again, the rawness of it making her exhale shakily. It consumed her thoughts, every nerve ending alight as the need within her grew unbearable.

For a moment, she lingered there, caught in the haze of her desire, her tongue hovering just above you. Her nails bit softly into your thigh as her other hand rose to her chest, cupping the soft weight of her breast. Then, as though steeling herself, she straightened slightly, her fingers squeezing her softness as she pressed her chest together.

Tilting her head, she let a long string of spit fall onto your shaft, the warm slickness trailing down slowly. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, each moment stretching with intent as her hands guided her breasts to encase you. The soft, pliant warmth of her skin enveloped your length, her grip firm but yielding as she began to move.

Up and down, her chest stroked along you in a smooth, rhythmic motion, the slickness making every movement glide effortlessly. Her breaths grew heavier, her lips parting as a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. Glancing up, she caught your gaze, her expression a mix of eagerness and awe.

You exhaled deeply, the faintest hint of a groan escaping your lips, and the sound sent a shiver rippling through her. The reaction was electric—Natty’s pace quickened, her movements more determined as her confidence grew. She pressed her breast more firmly against you, adjusting her angle slightly, the friction amplifying the sensations with every pass of her soft skin.

Each brush of her curves against your length elicited a flicker of pleasure across your face, and the sight of it spurred her on. The faint flush that painted her cheeks deepened as her own arousal grew with each passing second. She could feel the dampness between her thighs spreading, the sticky warmth soaking her panties, making the fabric cling to her skin uncomfortably. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking relief she couldn’t allow herself, but she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t. This was for you.

Leaning lower, she brought her face closer, her warm breath ghosting across your tip. Her lips brushed against you, feather-light, a teasing touch that made her breath hitch. For a brief moment, she hovered there, as if savoring the anticipation, before parting her lips and taking the head into her mouth. Her tongue flicked out, circling in slow, deliberate movements that sent jolts of sensation through you. All the while, her chest continued its rhythmic motion, enveloping you in warmth and softness.

Her lips worked in tandem with her breasts, creating an intoxicating combination of sensations. The wet heat of her mouth, the slick pressure of her curves, the eager swirl of her tongue—it was almost overwhelming. Her pace grew more fervent, the urgency in her actions reflecting your mounting tension. She could feel your body responding, the slight tensing of your thighs beneath her hands, the subtle shift in your breathing as it became uneven.

Her own breathing quickened, her moans muffled around your shaft as her arousal reached a fever pitch. Each motion, each sound you made, fueled her further, her movements becoming bolder. She pushed herself harder, faster, the rhythm of her chest and the pressure of her lips in perfect sync. Her thighs quivered, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

You groaned deeply, the sound low and primal, vibrating through the air as your hips bucked slightly in response to her movements. Your hands gripped the couch tightly, the pleasure cresting as your breathing turned ragged. “I’m cumming,” you growled, your voice thick with urgency, each word a raw admission of the overwhelming sensation.

Natty’s eyes flicked up to you briefly, her pupils blown wide as she heard the words. A soft, needy whimper escaped her lips, her movements quickening as if she wanted to savor every moment of your release. Her arousal was palpable now, radiating off her in waves. She could feel the wetness between her thighs pooling, soaking through the thin fabric of her panties as the ache inside her reached a fever pitch.

Your body tensed, and the first thick rope of warmth hit her face, splashing across her cheeks and lips. She gasped softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation registered. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched audibly, her chest rising and falling as the heat of it spread across her skin.

The next wave followed, coating her chest in hot streaks that dripped slowly downward. The sheer amount startled her, her hands faltering momentarily as she adjusted, her fingers instinctively brushing through the mess. Her body reacted instinctively, her thighs pressing together as another involuntary wave of arousal coursed through her. The heat radiating from her own skin was unbearable, her breath shaky as she let out another quiet, trembling moan.

Her chest glistened in the dim light, streaks of your release tracing down to her stomach. The sticky warmth clung to her skin, vivid and undeniable, a testament to how much you had been saving up for her. She trembled under the weight of the moment, her lips parting as she whispered faintly, “Oh my God…” Her voice was soft, filled with a mix of awe and desperation, her gaze dropping to the glistening mess on her chest.

Her hands trembled as they moved, brushing lightly over her curves, smearing the sticky remnants across her skin. The sight only heightened the ache inside her, her thighs quivering as she shifted slightly, her soaked panties clinging to her skin. The desperate need for relief surged again, her body reacting as if the mere act of pleasing you had amplified her own longing tenfold.

You leaned back into the couch, your breathing heavy but steadying as you watched her. A faint smirk played at the corner of your lips, your eyes taking in the sight of her—kneeling before you, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with evidence of your release. She looked wrecked, raw, and utterly yours.

“Clean yourself up,” you said finally, your voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that sent another shiver down her spine.

Her gaze flicked downward, her lips parting slightly as she took in the sight of herself. Thick streaks of your release marked her chest and face, the warmth of it clinging to her skin like a brand. Her hands trembled as they moved upward, her fingertips brushing against her cheek where the first streaks had landed. She paused for a heartbeat, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers lingered.

Then, with deliberate intent, she brought her fingers to her lips. The movement was slow, almost reverent, her eyes fluttering closed as she slipped them into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around each digit, savoring the taste, rich and unmistakable. A soft, audible gulp followed as she swallowed, her breath hitching as the act only deepened the simmering heat coursing through her.

Her hands moved lower, cupping her chest, her fingers gliding over the slickness streaked across her skin. The warmth was still there, a visceral reminder of your dominance. She leaned forward slightly, her breath shallow and uneven as she began to clean herself. Her fingers gathered the remnants, smearing it slightly before bringing it to her lips again. Her movements were unhurried, each touch deliberate, each taste sending a shiver down her spine.

She shifted slightly, lifting one breast toward her mouth. Her tongue darted out, tentative at first, lapping at the streaks she couldn’t reach with her fingers. Her lips closed around the soft curve, sucking gently as she worked to clean every inch of her skin. Her breaths were audible now, short and trembling, her chest heaving as she moved to the other side.

The wet sounds of her tongue and lips filled the room, mingling with the faint rustle of her shifting body. She was methodical, thorough, her cheeks flushed deeper with every motion. The room seemed smaller, hotter, the air thick with the lingering scent of arousal. The tension between you remained palpable, her body trembling with unspent need even as she finished her task.

When she finally straightened, her lips glistened faintly, and her chest was free of the sticky evidence of your climax. Yet the dampness clinging to her inner thighs betrayed her state. The act of cleaning herself had only deepened the ache inside her, the heat between her legs an all-consuming pulse that refused to be ignored.

Her wide eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, filled with a mix of uncertainty and raw desire, before dropping again. She seemed unable to hold your gaze for long, the intensity too much to bear. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting together as her breaths remained shallow, her body visibly trembling with need.

She stayed kneeling before you, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only motion. The memory of your pleasure was fresh on her tongue, the weight of your control pressing down on her, and the unrelenting ache inside her burned hotter than ever. Every second in your presence made it harder to endure, the tension in her body coiling tighter, her submission deepening with every unspoken command.

-----

The final days of her punishment dragged on like an endless stretch of time, every moment heavy with unspoken tension. The stillness between you was almost oppressive, each day blurring into the next as the weight of her denial bore down on her. This was the longest Natty had ever gone without release, and it showed in every aspect of her demeanor. Her once-bright spark had dimmed, replaced by a quiet desperation that lingered in her every move.

The ache inside her had become unbearable, growing from a subtle pulse to an all-encompassing fire that clouded her thoughts. Every touch she remembered, every fleeting moment of closeness, replayed in her mind, driving her mad with longing. Even the faintest brush of your presence—a simple passing glance, the sound of your footsteps—sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting instinctively despite her attempts to suppress it.

You, as always, maintained your calm and composed demeanor. There was no teasing, no deliberate provocation—just an air of quiet control that seemed to magnify her need. The unrelenting steadiness of your presence was both a source of comfort and torment. You gave her no indication of when her punishment might end, leaving her to stew in the tension, her mind spiraling with thoughts she couldn’t escape.

She couldn’t help herself; she gravitated toward you like a moth drawn to a flame. Wherever you went, she found an excuse to be nearby. She lingered in doorways, her wide eyes fixed on you as if waiting for permission to come closer. When you stood in the kitchen, her presence was a constant shadow, her movements soft and tentative as though afraid to disturb the fragile equilibrium.

One evening, the weight of it all seemed to crash over her. You were preparing dinner, your movements calm and deliberate as the scent of garlic and herbs filled the air. She knelt between your legs, her hands resting lightly on your thighs, her head tilted upward as she gazed at you. The tension in her body was palpable, every muscle tight as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.

Her wide eyes locked on yours, filled with an unspoken plea that words couldn’t capture. She didn’t dare speak, but the faint parting of her lips, the quick, uneven rise and fall of her chest, and the way her thighs pressed together betrayed the depth of her need. Her hands trembled slightly, her fingers brushing the fabric of your pants as though drawn by an invisible force.

She didn’t move, didn’t dare break the silence, but her gaze flicked downward for a fleeting moment. Her lips parted just slightly, her breathing shallow as her eyes darted back up to meet yours. Her desperation was written into every movement, her body quivering with the effort of staying still.

You glanced down at her, your calm and deliberate movements uninterrupted. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a subtle acknowledgment of her state. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and steady. “You can use your mouth.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, she seemed frozen, her body stiff as the words sank in. Then, her expression shifted, gratitude flooding her features as she whispered, “Really?” Her voice was shaky, as if she didn’t trust her own ears, her lips trembling as she waited for confirmation.

You nodded, giving her permission. “Go ahead.”

Her response was immediate, eager, as though this was the reprieve she had been desperately waiting for. Leaning forward, her hands trembled slightly as they moved to your waistband, carefully freeing you. As your length was revealed, her breath hitched audibly, her lips parting as her gaze fixated on you. Her eyes flickered with a mix of awe and raw hunger, the sight of you sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her.

She paused for a moment, her face hovering close. The faint musk of your arousal filled her senses, and she inhaled deeply, her thighs pressing together as a shiver rippled through her. The scent alone seemed to heighten the ache inside her, leaving her trembling with need.

Finally, she leaned in, her lips wrapping around you with deliberate care. Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue swirling in practiced, eager motions. Her hands braced against your thighs, steadying herself as she began to work. Every movement was filled with purpose, her lips and tongue crafting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Her motions were a mixture of desperation and precision. She wasn’t just focused on bringing you pleasure—she clung to the act itself, as though the act of pleasing you might somehow soothe her own unrelenting need. Her moans vibrated against you, soft and involuntary, her arousal building with each sound you made in response.

A deep groan escaped your lips, and the sound spurred her on. Her pace quickened, her confidence growing as she adjusted to the rhythm she knew would elicit the strongest response. Her cheeks hollowed with each stroke, her tongue working fervently as her lips slid along your length. The way her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with anticipation and longing, only added to the intensity.

Then, without pausing, she shifted lower. Her tongue trailed down to your base, her warm breath ghosting over your skin as she carefully took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently. The softness of her lips, combined with the light flicks of her tongue, sent a shiver through you. Her hands stayed busy, one stroking your length in a steady rhythm, the other resting on your thigh for balance.

“Just like that,” you murmured, your voice deep and husky, the words sending a faint flush to her cheeks.

Encouraged, she moved to the other side, giving equal attention, her tongue drawing slow, teasing circles before her lips closed around you. Her strokes on your shaft quickened slightly, her fingers curling tighter as she worked both areas with practiced care. The combination of her warm mouth and eager hands created an overwhelming sensation, pulling low groans from your chest.

Her breaths came heavier now, her arousal bleeding into her movements. The slickness of her fingers against your length was steady and deliberate, the wet sound of her efforts filling the quiet room. Her thighs shifted against the floor, her own body reacting instinctively to the act of pleasing you.

After a time, she released you from her mouth with a soft pop, her tongue trailing back up your length, leaving a wet path in her wake. She returned to your shaft, her lips wrapping around you again as though she couldn’t stay away. She took you deeper this time, her tongue pressed firmly against the underside as she bobbed her head, her hands bracing against your thighs to steady herself. Each motion was fluid, precise, and full of intent.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice low and strained. “So eager. So good with that mouth.”

Her pace quickened at your words, her lips sliding up and down as her tongue swirled over your sensitive tip. The vibrations of her soft moans were almost too much, and you groaned deeply, the sound spurring her on further. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter as she adjusted her rhythm, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the heat rising, the sensation building to an unbearable peak. “I’m close,” you growled, your voice strained as you placed a firm hand on the back of her head.

She took your words as a command, her efforts becoming almost frantic, her mouth enveloping you deeper as her tongue worked with renewed vigor. The vibrations of her soft moans drove you over the edge. As you climaxed, your hand pressed gently but firmly on the back of her head, ensuring there was no space between you.

The first surge of your release hit the back of her throat directly, her eyes widening as she instinctively swallowed. The warmth and thickness filled her mouth entirely, her lips sealing around you as she took everything you gave her. Each pump sent another rush straight to the back of her throat, leaving no room for travel, her swallowing keeping perfect pace with your release.

Her body trembled beneath you, her own arousal spiking as she felt every pulse of your climax. Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, her nails digging in slightly as she fought to keep herself steady. The act of taking you so completely only amplified her own need, the ache inside her growing unbearable.

When the last wave subsided, she lingered, her tongue moving gently against you as if savoring every moment. Slowly, she pulled back, her lips leaving you with a soft, deliberate motion. She gasped softly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed and glistening.

Her lips were swollen, her gaze hazy as she looked up at you, the taste of you still on her tongue. Her hands fell to her lap, trembling as her thighs pressed together tightly, the evidence of her arousal undeniable.

Her gaze flicked downward, taking in the sight of your length slick from her efforts and the faint mess left on her lips. Her thighs pressed together tightly, her need still painfully unresolved. She had thought this would help her, that focusing on your pleasure would somehow soothe the ache building inside her. But she was so wrong.

The act of bringing you to release, of hearing your groans and feeling your tension snap, had only sharpened her own longing. The heat inside her was unbearable, the ache now all-consuming. Her body trembled as her lips tingled with the memory of you, the lingering taste of your release on her tongue making her stomach twist with need.

Sitting back on her heels, her hands trembling slightly, she dared to glance back up at you, searching for something—permission, relief, anything. But your calm, steady gaze only reminded her of the boundaries you’d set. Her stomach tightened as the realization settled over her: she was still denied. Nothing had changed. If anything, the fire inside her burned hotter.

Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. She remained kneeling, her chest heaving softly, every nerve in her body alight with unspent desire. Her thighs clenched tighter, but it was no use—the longing inside her wasn’t going anywhere. It had only grown.

-----

The tension in the house reached its peak on the second-to-last evening, the air so heavy it felt alive. The soft glow of the television flickered across the room, its muted sound blending with the quiet hum of the house. You sat on the couch, leaning back comfortably, your posture calm and steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you and Natty.

She lingered nearby, her presence hesitant but drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of indecision, she approached. Without a word, she lay across your lap, her head resting on your thigh as she curled into herself slightly. The tension in her body was palpable, her breathing shallow and uneven as though the simple act of being close to you was too much.

Your hand moved to her hair instinctively, your fingers threading through the soft strands in slow, deliberate strokes. The touch was gentle but firm, grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled. She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling against your lap in uneven rhythm. For a brief moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as the steady motion soothed her frayed nerves.

But the ache inside her didn’t subside—it only grew sharper. Her thighs shifted restlessly, rubbing together as though seeking some kind of relief. The heat in her body was unbearable, the steady press of need building into a relentless thrum that clouded her thoughts. She bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the whimper rising in her throat, but it was a futile effort. Every stroke of your fingers through her hair, every subtle shift of your body beneath hers, only added fuel to the fire.

Her hands curled into loose fists, her nails digging lightly into her palms as she struggled to hold herself together. But it wasn’t enough. The weight of your control, the quiet calm you exuded, drove her to the brink. Finally, she shifted, her body trembling slightly as she propped herself up, turning to straddle your lap instead.

Her thighs pressed into yours as she settled, her hands clutching your chest for balance. Her head bowed for a moment, her breath hitching audibly as she fought to steady herself. When she finally looked up, her eyes met yours, wide and pleading, heavy with unspoken need. Her gaze dropped almost immediately, lingering on your waist, her lips parting slightly as though drawn by a magnetic force.

For a moment, she said nothing, her body frozen as she stewed in the unbearable tension coursing through her. Her hands tightened their grip on your shirt, her fingers trembling as the storm inside her reached a breaking point.

“You’re almost there,” you said finally, your voice calm but deliberate. The words sliced through the silence like a blade, steady and unrelenting.

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto yours. Her lips quivered, her body trembling against you as though the weight of your gaze alone might shatter her. “I…” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how much longer I can—” She cut herself off with a soft sob, her hands curling tighter into the fabric of your shirt. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just… I need you.”

Her voice cracked, and her hips shifted slightly as though searching for even the faintest relief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, her desperation spilling out in frantic, unfiltered words. “I’ll never lie again. I’ll be better—I promise. Just, please…”

You watched her unravel in your lap, the composure she clung to crumbling entirely. Your hand moved to her hair again, threading your fingers through it as you guided her forehead to rest against yours. “Shhh,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and steady. “You’re so close, Natty. Just a little longer.”

Her sobs quieted slightly, though her body still trembled against you. “I’m trying,” she whimpered, her voice breaking with every word. “I’m really trying, but it’s too much. Please… just this once…”

Her thighs trembled as she pressed herself closer, her body seeking yours like it was the only thing grounding her. She let out another soft sob, burying her face in your shoulder as her hands clutched desperately at your shirt.

You pressed a kiss to her temple, the softness of the gesture making her shiver. “My sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

The praise sent a shudder through her, and she clung to you tighter, her cries softening as she tried to steady herself. “I’ll be good,” she whispered brokenly. “I swear, I’ll do anything. I just—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted, your lips brushing against her cheek in a gentle kiss. “I know, I know it’s hard. But you can do this. Just hold on for me.”

Her shoulders shook as she nodded faintly, her sobs quieting further. “Okay,” she whispered shakily, her voice barely audible. She stayed there, sinking deeper into your embrace, letting your steady presence anchor her even as the ache inside her burned hotter with every second.

Your hand continued to stroke her hair, the motion slow and deliberate, a constant reassurance. Her body trembled against you, the heat radiating from her a tangible reminder of the control you still held. Despite the overwhelming need consuming her, she stayed, her trust in you unwavering as she endured the storm.

-----

Now finally the last day of the month has arrived. Natty woke with a feeling she had never experienced before. Her body trembled as she stretched, but instead of relief, she felt an overwhelming tension in every muscle. A deep, relentless ache settled low in her belly, heavier and sharper than before, as though her body itself was protesting the month-long denial. It wasn’t just an ache—it was an all-encompassing sensation that left her feeling sick and shaky, her stomach tight and twisted. Every nerve felt raw, on edge, and her hypersensitivity made her skin prickle even under the lightest touch of the sheets.

She sat up slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as her head spun slightly. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she let out a soft, shaky breath, the tension inside her almost unbearable. Her stomach ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of how long she’d gone without release. It felt like an emptiness and a fullness at the same time, a contradiction that only heightened her frustration. The presence of the plug, which had remained snug all night, only amplified her torment. She could feel it with every small shift of her body—a teasing, maddening fullness that made her hyper aware of herself.

When she finally stood, her legs felt weak, her movements unsteady. Every step sent a faint jolt through her, the plug pressing deeper with even the slightest motion. It was as if her entire body had become a live wire, sparking with every touch, every shift, every breath. She shivered as she made her way out of the bedroom, her hands clutching the fabric of her oversized shirt as though grounding herself against the storm of sensations.

When she stepped into the living room, the light spilling softly through the windows, she found you lounging on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. You glanced up at her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your gaze swept over her. “Come here,” you said simply, patting your lap. “Lie down.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she hesitated for only a second before obeying. She settled across your lap, her breaths quickening as your hands began to roam along her back, the pressure firm but soothing. Your touch was unhurried, tracing the curve of her spine, lingering lower until your fingers brushed against the waistband of her shorts. Without a word, you hooked your thumbs into the fabric and pulled them down, the cool air making her shiver as it hit her exposed skin.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt your hand glide over her bare cheeks, the warmth of your palm contrasting against the coolness of the air. Her body betrayed her, a faint glisten of arousal catching the light. You chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. “Dripping already?” you murmured, giving one cheek a firm squeeze. “You’re really something, Natty.”

Her breath hitched, her body quivering as she buried her face in her arms. Before she could respond, she felt something cool and slick press against her other entrance. Her muscles tensed instinctively, her head snapping up as she stammered, “Wait, what are you—?”

“Shh,” you murmured, your voice calm but commanding as you pressed the small plug in slowly. Her breath hitched audibly, her body jerking forward as the sensation hit her all at once. A soft yelp escaped her lips, her walls clenching reflexively as her thighs trembled.

“Hold it,” you instructed firmly, your hand resting lightly on her back. “You’ll keep it there all day.”

“I—I don’t think I can,” she stammered, her face burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“You can,” you replied, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And you will.”

She whimpered softly, her breaths uneven as she adjusted to the sensation. The fullness teased her relentlessly, and every small movement made her hyper aware of its presence. The ache between her legs grew sharper, more insistent, as if her body was begging for relief that wouldn’t come. Even standing felt like a challenge; the plug shifted slightly with each step, sending ripples of sensation through her core.

The day had barely begun, and yet she already felt as though she was teetering on the edge. The plug amplified everything—every touch, every brush of fabric, every faint movement. She couldn’t escape it, and with every moment that passed, the ache inside her burned hotter, making her tremble with the effort of holding herself together. Midnight felt impossibly far away.

You didn’t let her rest today—not for a single moment. The relentless presence of the plug became a constant torment, every shift of her body driving the fullness deeper, teasing her in ways she couldn’t escape. Throughout the day, you made her bend over to “check” that it was still in place, a smug reminder of your control. Each time, your hand slid along her folds, your fingers brushing lightly against her slick, swollen skin. The wetness clung to you, undeniable evidence of her unrelenting arousal.

Her breaths came in sharp gasps during these moments, her body trembling as she struggled to remain still. The faintest touch sent shivers down her spine, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She whimpered softly, the sound involuntary, her thighs quivering as the effort of holding herself together grew increasingly futile.

“You’re holding up well,” you teased after one such inspection, your fingers hovering just close enough to make her whimper again. The sound was high and needy, betraying her desperation. “Though it looks like you’re ready to explode already.”

Her cheeks burned a deep crimson, and she turned her face away, unable to meet your amused gaze. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her body shuddering as she struggled to steady her breathing. The plug teased her with every movement, amplifying her sensitivity to unbearable levels, and the ache between her legs became an all-consuming pulse.

But you weren’t done. Your teasing was deliberate and constant, turning the mundane moments of her day into unrelenting torment. A casual grope of her chest as she walked past made her gasp, her nipples hardening under your touch as a jolt of sensation shot through her. Your hand would slide up her shirt without warning, your fingers brushing against her sensitive peaks, leaving her trembling and breathless.

When she bent down to retrieve something, you delivered sharp smacks to her exposed cheeks, the sound echoing through the room as her hips jolted forward. Each time, the plug shifted slightly, pressing deeper inside her, and she let out a strangled moan, her hands gripping whatever surface was nearest for support.

At one point, while she was bent over cleaning the counter, you delivered a particularly firm smack. The force sent the plug pushing deeper, and the sudden wave of sensation made her cry out softly. Her hands clutched the countertop, her knuckles white as her body trembled uncontrollably. Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts, and her legs quaked as she tried—and failed—to regain her composure.

“Careful,” you murmured, leaning close to her ear. Your voice was laced with amusement, dripping with controlled authority. “I wouldn’t want you to lose control now.”

She shuddered, her head dipping as another soft whimper escaped her lips. Her body burned with arousal, her skin tingling as though every nerve ending had come alive. Every teasing touch, every lingering squeeze of your hand left her trembling, her body responding instantly as though begging for more. She was aware of everything—the brush of fabric against her sensitive skin, the cool air that contrasted with the heat radiating from her core, the relentless presence of the plug that made every movement feel like a deliberate act of torment.

By mid-afternoon, she was a trembling mess. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, her body quaking as she navigated the relentless teasing and the ache that had only grown sharper, hotter, with every passing moment. The fullness of the plug heightened her sensitivity, making even the smallest movements feel exaggerated. A shift of her hips, a brush of her thighs—each one sent jolts of need spiraling through her, leaving her gasping and desperate.

Her arousal radiated off her in waves, the heat between her legs becoming an all-consuming ache. It seeped into every part of her, making her feel like she was on the verge of breaking. Every glance from you, every calculated touch, only made it worse. She could barely think about anything else, her mind entirely consumed by the promise of relief she couldn’t yet have.

The promise of midnight was the only thing grounding her, a beacon at the end of her torment. But as the minutes dragged on and each moment stretched longer than the last, she began to wonder just how much more she could take. The hours ahead loomed like an eternity, and her body burned with the need to finally be free.

-----

Once the final moments were minutes away, Natty was a trembling wreck. She couldn’t muster excitement, couldn’t even speak. The month-long denial had consumed her entirely, leaving her a quivering, needy mess. Every step she took sent faint jolts through her hypersensitive body, her thighs slick with a constant reminder of her arousal. Her mind swirled with one singular thought—relief. Midnight was so close, yet it felt infinitely far away.

You watched her silently as she hovered near you, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The air between you was electric, charged with her desperation and your unshakable calm. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Bedroom,” you said, your voice calm but commanding. “Now.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her trembling hands reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head in one fluid motion. Her shorts followed, discarded in a heap on the floor, leaving her completely bare before you. There was no need to ask—her eagerness, her desperation, was written across her flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

Natty lay back on the bed, her legs slightly parted, her body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath she took was shallow and uneven, her body strung tight with anticipation and desperation. Her wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours as you retrieved the wand vibrator from the nightstand, its weight in your hand a promise of what was to come.

“You’ve waited this long,” you murmured, sitting beside her. Your voice was calm, soothing, but carried an unyielding authority. “But understand this—if you cum before midnight, it’s another month.”

Her breath hitched, her body stiffening as the weight of your words sank in. A shudder passed through her, and her lips parted as though to protest, but no sound came. The mere thought of another month was impossible to comprehend. She didn’t even know how she had survived this one. Her stomach churned, and a small, desperate whimper escaped her lips.

“Do you understand, Natty?” you asked, your voice steady but firm.

She nodded quickly, tears welling in her eyes. “Y-yes… I understand.” Her voice cracked, the fear and arousal mingling into a trembling whisper.

With a faint smirk, you picked up the vibrator, letting it press firmly against her swollen clit without turning it on. The weight alone was enough to make her react—a sharp intake of breath followed by a faint whimper as her hips shifted instinctively, seeking more. The glistening slickness between her legs caught the dim light, pooling against the toy and betraying just how close she was to the edge already.

You watched her closely, your calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tremors racking her body. “So needy,” you murmured, your voice low and deliberate. “Leaking onto the sheets, and I haven’t even turned it on.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her thighs trembling as she tried to press them together only to fail against your positioning. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she fought the overwhelming tension building inside her. “P-please,” she stammered, her voice trembling and barely audible.

“Not yet,” you said, your tone firm but calm. Your gaze flicked briefly to the clock. “It’s not time.”

Her body jerked slightly at the reminder, her thighs quivering as the pressure from the vibrator sent faint pulses of sensation through her. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one feeling like an eternity as she teetered on the precipice. Her breaths grew more frantic, her chest rising and falling with each shallow gasp, her entire body betraying her desperate need.

Without warning, your free hand moved downward, your fingers brushing lightly over the curve of her ass. You hooked a finger under the base of the plug, tugging gently. The sensation elicited a sharp cry from her, her hips bucking against the pressure. Her arousal spilled out even more, a slick warmth pooling between her thighs and glistening against her skin.

Her moans turned into incoherent whimpers as her body trembled violently. “Oh God—” she gasped, her voice cracking as the mix of sensations overwhelmed her.

You brought your finger to the slick mess, scooping some onto your fingertip. With deliberate slowness, you raised it to your mouth, tasting her arousal. The faint hum of approval you let out sent another shiver through her. “So sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. “And all mine.”

Her body jerked again, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands clawed desperately at the sheets. The combination of sensations—the press of the vibrator, the tug on the plug, and your deliberate tasting of her—pushed her to the very edge.

Finally, the clock hit 11:59. Without a word, you turned the vibrator on, its low hum filling the room.

The moment the vibrator sprang to life, Natty’s body reacted as if it had been struck by lightning. A high-pitched yelp escaped her lips, her hips jerking against the relentless vibration. Tears filled her eyes as she clutched the sheets, her body writhing uncontrollably, her thighs trembling with effort. The first wave of sensation crashed over her, and she wasn’t ready for the intensity. She quivered like a bowstring pulled too tight, every muscle taut, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

“Hold on,” you commanded, your tone calm but firm.

Her sobs came softly at first, as if she were trying to hold them back, but the effort only made them more pitiful. Her lips parted, trembling, and a faint whimper escaped. Her hands clutched the sheets tightly, her nails digging into the fabric as her entire body quaked beneath the relentless assault of the vibrations.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but the relentless pressure of the toy against her swollen clit made every movement a torment. Her hips shifted involuntarily, as though her body were trying to escape and chase the sensation at the same time. Her skin glistened with sweat, her face flushed a deep crimson as tears streaked her cheeks. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the unbearable tension coiling inside her.

You leaned closer, your hand resting gently on her abdomen, your voice a steady anchor. “You’ve made it this far, Natty,” you murmured, your tone soft but resolute. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Her eyes widened as another wave of sensation crashed over her, her sobs growing louder and more frantic. Her body arched off the bed, the vibrations driving her closer to the edge. “I—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she fought to find her words. “I don’t think I can—I can’t do it! I need to cum!”

“A little more, baby,” you replied firmly, your gaze locking onto hers. “Trust me, you can do this.”

Her body convulsed, her hips grinding helplessly against the unyielding vibrator. The wet sounds of her arousal filled the room, mingling with her desperate cries. Her slickness coated the toy, betraying the depth of her need. She whimpered again, shaking her head as tears flowed freely, her thighs trembling violently.

Finally, you extended your hand to her. “Here,” you said softly, offering it like a lifeline. “Hold on to me.”

Her trembling fingers latched onto yours with surprising strength, gripping as though your hand were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her nails bit into your skin, but you didn’t flinch, letting her anchor herself in the gesture. “You’re halfway there,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing, an oasis of calm amid her chaos.

Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her sobs hitching with every sharp inhale as her body quaked uncontrollably. She clung to your hand as if it were the only solid thing in a world of overwhelming sensation. Her lips moved, trying to form words, but all that escaped were soft, broken whimpers, desperate and raw. The tension in her body was unbearable, her chest heaving as her thighs quaked, every nerve ending alive with unbearable intensity.

You glanced at the clock, your own breath steady as the final stretch approached. Her body tensed further, every muscle pulled taut as though she were a bowstring ready to snap.

“Ten,” you began, your voice calm and deliberate, a grounding presence in her storm.

Natty gasped sharply, her entire body stiffening as the vibrations pushed her closer to the edge. Her nails dug deeper into your hand, her legs trembling as she whimpered softly.

“Nine,” you continued, your eyes locked on her.

She shook her head, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. Her lips trembled as a desperate whimper escaped her throat. “It’s too much,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The relentless hum of the vibrator against her clit made her legs quiver uncontrollably.

“Eight.”

Her back arched, her body bucking involuntarily as she let out a strangled cry. “I—I can’t—I can’t!” she sobbed, her tears streaking down her flushed cheeks.

“You’re stronger than this, Natty,” you said calmly, your voice steady and grounding as you brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead. “You’ve made it this far.”

“Seven.”

Her breathing turned ragged, each gasp shallow and desperate as her hips jerked against the unyielding pressure. The wetness between her legs spread further, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the room. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Please—I can’t hold it!”

“Six.”

Her nails raked against your hand, her grip tightening as though holding you was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her sobs grew louder, raw and broken as her body writhed beneath the unrelenting assault. Her thighs quivered violently, every muscle trembling with tension.

“Five.”

She let out a guttural moan, her hips grinding involuntarily against the vibrator. “I’m trying—I swear, I’m trying!” she cried, her voice thick with desperation. Her tears flowed freely now, her face flushed and damp as she clung to your hand with all her strength.

“Four.”

Her breath hitched, each exhale turning into a ragged sob as she whimpered, “I can’t do this! I can’t—I’m going to—” Her hips bucked harder, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her body convulsed against the sheets.

“Three.”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing warmly against her ear. “You’re so close, Natty,” you murmured softly. “Don’t give up now.”

Her lips parted as if to plead, but the only sound that escaped was a desperate, high-pitched whimper. Her chest heaved as her body fought against the overwhelming pleasure, her tears soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

“Two.”

Her entire frame was trembling violently now, her nails digging into your hand as her body teetered on the brink. “Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I need to—I can’t stop it—I need to—”

“Hold on,” you commanded, your voice calm but firm, grounding her with the unshakable authority in your tone.

“One.”

Your voice remained steady as you carefully balanced the vibrator against her swollen clit, the relentless hum sending vibrations coursing through her. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hands away, leaving the toy perfectly poised against her trembling body. At first, she didn’t even notice your absence—her mind was fogged with overwhelming need, her focus entirely consumed by the mounting pressure tearing through her.

“Now, Natty,” you murmured softly, your tone calm yet commanding, slicing through the haze clouding her mind.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, just as your hands moved to her chest. Your fingers found her sensitive nipples, pinching them lightly before tugging them upward with deliberate precision. The sharp pull elicited a desperate cry from her lips, her hips bucking instinctively against the vibrator. The motion was reflexive, her body torn between seeking relief from the intensity and craving even more of it.

The sensations converged like a tidal wave—the relentless vibrations teasing her folds, the sharp tug on her swollen nipples, and the persistent fullness of the plug nestled deep inside her, pressing in with every trembling movement. Together, they built into an unrelenting storm of pleasure, crashing through her body and leaving no room for control.

Her body stiffened like a bowstring drawn tight, quivering for a suspended second before breaking. And then she shattered. Her back arched violently off the bed, the tendons in her neck straining as her climax slammed into her with unrelenting force. A scream tore from her throat, raw and guttural, reverberating through the room like a primal release.

“Ahhh! F-FUCK!”, her voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure ripping through her.

Natty’s legs snapped shut involuntarily, trapping the vibrator tightly between her trembling thighs. The added pressure amplified the vibrations to an unbearable intensity, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her already over-sensitized body. Her back arched off the bed, her abs contracting so hard it felt like they might cramp, every muscle in her body taut as a bowstring.

The fullness of the plug in her ass only heightened everything, pressing deeper with every spasm of her climax. It felt like her body was tearing apart and coming together simultaneously, every nerve ending alight with sensations so intense they blurred the line between pleasure and pain. She writhed uncontrollably, her head pressing back into the mattress as her trembling hands clawed at the sheets. Her fingers twisted the fabric into fists, her grip so tight her knuckles turned white, desperate for something—anything—to anchor her in the storm raging through her.

“Oh my God—AGH! FUCK, FUCK!” she wailed, her voice breaking into fractured sobs as wave after wave of climax overwhelmed her. Her thighs quivered violently, her entire lower half slick with arousal as the glistening evidence of her release pooled beneath her. The wet, lewd sounds of her trembling movements only added to the intensity, driving her further into a pleasure so consuming it left her mind blank and incoherent.

Her abs cramped again, the sharp ache blending into the relentless throbbing of her core. Every pulse of her body felt magnified a hundredfold. Her nipples, still under the firm grip of your fingers, sent jolts of electric pleasure-pain through her chest with every tug and pinch. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her sobs turning into hiccupping gasps as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room fading into a haze of white-hot pleasure. Her thoughts dissolved entirely, her mind unable to focus on anything but the torrent of ecstasy ripping through her. Another scream tore from her throat as her hips bucked helplessly, her body caught in an unrelenting rhythm that wasn’t hers to control.

Her legs trembled violently, the muscles quaking beneath the strain of holding the vibrator in place. Her toes curled and uncurled, the tension radiating from her core to every extremity. She felt utterly consumed, her body reacting on instinct, every motion drawing out the climax until it seemed endless.

Finally, the vibrations began to ease, but her body didn’t stop. The aftershocks rippled through her, smaller waves of pleasure making her twitch uncontrollably. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her breaths ragged and uneven. Her limbs felt heavy, trembling faintly as they fell limply to her sides.

Tears continued to streak down her face, her cheeks stained with the evidence of her release. Her entire body glistened with sweat, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light of the room. Even as her climax began to fade, the plug’s fullness sent tiny, lingering jolts of pleasure radiating outward, leaving her hypersensitive and raw.

You leaned forward, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intensity she had just endured. Her glassy eyes fluttered open, unfocused and hazy, a soft moan escaping her lips as her gaze found yours. The exhaustion in her face was mingled with something else—a quiet, unspoken gratitude.

“You did it, Natty. You’re incredible,” you murmured softly, your voice a warm balm as you brushed a strand of damp hair away from her flushed face. The praise seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, soothing her trembling form as she melted into the mattress, her body finally surrendering to the sweet, blissful exhaustion.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, her chest heaving with the effort of coming down from the most intense climax of her life. “Thank you…” she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. Her words were barely audible, trembling with emotion, as her body sank deeper into the bed. She looked utterly wrecked—her cheeks damp with tears, her thighs still quivering faintly, her entire form radiating the afterglow of release.

You sat beside her, your touch gentle as your hand trailed down her arm, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on her damp skin. She flinched slightly, her body still hyper-sensitive, but she didn’t pull away. For the first time in weeks, the relentless ache inside her was gone, replaced by a deep, blissful emptiness. Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering as she floated in the haze of her release. It was a quiet, almost dreamlike state, her mind too overwhelmed to process anything beyond the moment.

For a time, she simply lay there, her breaths coming in slow, ragged bursts. Her body felt weightless, untethered, her thoughts drifting aimlessly as she savored the sweet relief coursing through her. It was everything she had been waiting for—everything she thought she needed.

But as the haze began to lift, her breaths steadied, and a flicker of awareness returned to her gaze. Her glassy eyes blinked open, meeting yours with a dazed vulnerability. The raw emotion in her expression was undeniable—gratitude, relief, and something else, something that lingered in the shadows of her desire.

At first, she didn’t move, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. The stillness between you stretched, heavy and charged, until the quiet became almost unbearable.

Then, she inhaled sharply, her voice soft and trembling. “I… I need more.” you felt the tension between you shift, her words a soft, desperate confession that hung heavy in the air.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” you teased, setting the vibrator aside as you leaned closer. The smirk on your lips held no malice, only satisfaction. Her wide, pleading eyes followed your every move as you began to undress. Each button you loosened, each piece of fabric you shed, only heightened her anticipation. Her breaths came faster, her chest rising and falling as she watched your body come into view, her gaze lingering with raw hunger.

Climbing onto the bed, you positioned yourself between her trembling thighs. She spread her legs instinctively, her body quaking beneath you, her slick folds glistening with arousal as she waited for you to fill her. You lined yourself up with her entrance, pausing just long enough to meet her gaze. The raw desperation in her eyes was enough to send a thrill down your spine.

As you pressed into her, the sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a cry, her hypersensitive body reacting instantly. The tight, wet heat of her clamped around you, her back arching off the bed as she cried out. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her hands clutching you as though you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You waited so well,” you murmured against her ear, your voice thick with approval as your hips began to move with deliberate force. “Now, you get all of me.”

Her sobbing moans filled the room, each thrust drawing a broken, needy sound from her lips. She writhed beneath you, her body impossibly responsive to every motion. Your hands moved to her chest, kneading her soft, full breasts, your thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples with teasing strokes. Each touch sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching sharply as her hips bucked instinctively to meet you. Her thighs quivered on either side of you, trembling with the strain of holding back the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

Leaning down, your mouth found one of her nipples, tugging it gently between your lips. You sucked softly at first, your tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before you increased the pressure, tugging firmly enough to draw a cry from her throat. Her back arched off the bed, her chest pressing further into your touch as her hands clutched desperately at your shoulders.

The plug inside her added another layer of sensation, shifting slightly with each of your movements. The fullness it brought combined with the relentless drive of your thrusts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her walls fluttered around you, a desperate clench that pulled you deeper as she gasped for air.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her nipple as your hands continued to explore her soft curves. “God, I love your tits. Made for me to touch, to taste.”

Your teeth grazed her nipple, tugging lightly before sucking hard enough to make her cry out. “Look at how they react for me,” you growled, your voice thick with need as you pinched the neglected peak between your fingers. “So soft, so full. They’re mine, Natty. All mine.”

Her breath hitched at your words, her thighs trembling as her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. “They’re yours,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “All yours.”

You smirked against her skin, your tongue tracing lazy circles around her sensitive peak before moving to the other. “That’s right,” you growled, your tone possessive. “Every inch of you is mine. Look at how much you need me. Your body can’t hide it.”

Her walls clenched around you again, her moans turning into desperate, high-pitched cries as you continued to drive into her relentlessly. Each thrust sent her spiraling further into ecstasy, her body reacting to every movement with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Shifting your position, you pulled back slightly, your hands sliding down to grip her thighs firmly. With deliberate care, you lifted her legs and pressed them upward, trapping them against her chest. Your knees pinned her in place, holding her completely open and vulnerable in a perfect mating press. The change in angle made her gasp sharply, her wide, hazy eyes locking onto yours.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmured, your voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely mine.”

The next thrust sent her screaming, her entire body jolting as you hit that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. Her nails raked against your arms, her head tossing back against the pillow as her voice broke into desperate cries.

“Right there,” you growled, your eyes locked on her face, watching the way her expression twisted in bliss. “I can feel how much you love it. So fucking tight, clenching around me like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her sobs grew louder, her legs trembling against your chest as her body quaked with every deep, deliberate thrust. You leaned forward slightly, your grip tightening on her thighs as you drove into her harder, deeper, each motion pushing her closer to the edge

“Don’t stop!” she sobbed, her voice breaking as her walls fluttered desperately around you. “Oh, God—please, just—just like that!”

Each powerful thrust jolted her body downward, her back bouncing against the mattress only to rise again to meet you, the force of your movements sending ripples of sensation through her trembling form. The angle of the mating press left her completely at your mercy, her legs pinned upward and her body open to every deep, deliberate motion. Each plunge drove into her so deeply that she gasped, her nails raking frantically across the sheets in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

Her cries climbed in pitch, the tremor in her voice betraying how close she was to unraveling. “Oh my God—ah! Please, please!” she sobbed, her thighs twitching violently as the relentless rhythm pushed her to the edge. The slick sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the room, mingling with her desperate cries, the evidence of her arousal pooling beneath her on the bed.

Her chest heaved, her full, sensitive breasts brushing against your chest with each thrust. The friction only heightened her pleasure, her hardened nipples sending electric jolts through her trembling body every time they grazed against your skin. Her walls clamped down on you rhythmically, pulling you deeper, the overwhelming sensations making her feel as though she might shatter.

Sensing how close she was, you shifted with deliberate precision. Your hands slid from her thighs, snaking beneath her legs until they found the soft, round curves of her ass. You cupped her cheeks firmly, your fingers digging into the plush flesh as you lifted her hips off the mattress slightly. The adjustment pulled her even deeper onto you, the angle driving you into her sweet spot with devastating accuracy. Each thrust sent her body jolting violently against yours, the new position leaving her utterly breathless.

Her cries became incoherent, her head tossing back against the pillow as she writhed beneath you. “Oh—oh fuck!” she screamed, her voice cracking as another wave of sensation tore through her. Her nails scraped down your back, leaving fiery trails in their wake, her trembling fingers clutching at you desperately.

Your mouth descended to one of her taut, begging nipples, capturing it with your lips as your thrusts never faltered. You sucked hard, tugging and flicking your tongue against the sensitive peak in perfect rhythm with your movements. Her back arched sharply, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her entire body seemed to tighten beneath you. The way her walls clenched around you made your own need burn hotter, driving you to push her even further.

“You’re mine,” you murmured against her heated skin, your voice low and possessive. You squeezed her other breast firmly, kneading it with one hand while your fingers rolled her nipple between them, tugging and twisting just enough to make her gasp. Each motion sent another shockwave through her trembling frame, her moans escalating into desperate, high-pitched whimpers.

“Fuck,” you growled, your tone thick with desire as your eyes met hers, hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. “You’re taking all of me. So tight, so perfect—you were made for this. Made for me.”

Her body answered in kind, her walls fluttering uncontrollably around you as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable peak. Her thighs quaked against your sides, trembling as her body instinctively tried to match your relentless rhythm, every nerve alight with overwhelming sensation.

The fullness inside her was all-consuming. The plug pressed deeply, amplifying every thrust as it heightened the sensation of your length stretching and filling her. The dual pressure left her gasping, her breaths shallow and uneven, her mind reeling as she balanced on the knife’s edge of ecstasy.

When you thrust even deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside her with relentless precision, her body couldn’t take it anymore. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing through her with violent force. Her scream tore through the room, raw and guttural, as her walls clamped down on you in an unrelenting grip. “AAGH! Fuck—oh, fuck! I—I can’t—” Her words dissolved into incoherent sobs, her hands scrambling desperately for purchase against your shoulders, pulling you closer as her body shattered beneath you.

Her muscles tensed and released in rapid, uncontrollable spasms, her thighs trembling violently as her body gave itself over to the release she’d been denied for so long. The intensity of her climax rivaled her previous, earth shattering one., her body jerking with each wave as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. She could feel every inch of you inside her, the fullness making her dizzy as her mind blurred into a haze of white-hot pleasure.

You didn’t stop. Your hands gripped her soft cheeks tighter, lifting her hips slightly as you pressed even deeper into her. The angle drove you against every sensitive nerve inside her, pulling even more desperate cries from her lips. Her walls rippled around you, milking you with each spasm as her release seemed endless, her trembling form unable to settle as the aftershocks kept her teetering on the brink.

Your climax hit like a flood, every pulse of release spilling deep inside her as your body trembled against hers. Each spurt of warmth was thick and heavy, filling her completely, and the sensation drew a sharp, trembling gasp from her lips. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and arousal, as she clung to you with trembling hands.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible, her words catching in her throat as the sensation overwhelmed her. “So much…” Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, pressing tightly against your sides as her oversensitive body reacted to every movement, every pulse.

The heat of your release spread slowly, the fullness consuming her entirely. She could feel the weight of it settling deep inside her, combining with the unyielding presence of the plug to leave her utterly stuffed. Her walls fluttered around you, squeezing reflexively as though her body couldn’t bear to let go of even a drop.

Her breathing hitched as she whimpered again, the faintest shift of her hips causing another jolt of sensation to ripple through her. “I can feel it,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her cheeks flushing even deeper as her hands clung to your arms. “It’s… so much,” she sobbed softly, her words breaking into shaky, uneven breaths.

You didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, you stayed buried inside her, letting the warmth of your bodies meld together. Each faint twitch of her inner walls drew a soft groan from you, the intensity of her aftershocks still gripping you as she trembled beneath you. Her thighs shook against your hips, the muscles twitching as if her body was trying to process the overwhelming fullness.

Your hands slid down her sides, grounding her as she whimpered again, her nails digging faintly into your skin. “I… I can’t believe…” she stammered, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, the slickness between you evidence of just how thoroughly you’d filled her.

Her body relaxed gradually, the tension in her muscles giving way to the soft, warm haze of afterglow. But even as she melted into you, her oversensitive body still twitched faintly with each aftershock. She blinked slowly, her gaze glassy and unfocused as a faint, dazed smile curved her lips.

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against her damp forehead, your breaths mingling as you murmured, “You were perfect, Natty. Every single part of you.”

Her body slackened beneath you, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The combination of your warmth inside her, the lingering tension of the plug, and the complete fulfillment of finally letting go left her trembling. Yet, despite her exhaustion, her arms tightened around you, her hands resting against your back as though she was afraid to let you go.

Her lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…” The words were soft, raw with emotion, her head tilting slightly to nuzzle against your shoulder. Her breath tickled your skin as she sighed deeply, a sound that carried both relief and contentment.

You stayed close, your fingers tracing gentle circles along her thighs, soothing the trembling muscles. The room was still, the quiet filled only with the sound of your breathing and the occasional faint whimper as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensations still radiating through her. The intimacy of the moment held you both in its grasp, neither of you willing to break the connection.

As your muscles began to relax, you shifted slightly, preparing to pull back. But the moment you started to move, her legs clamped around you, her hands gripping your shoulders with surprising strength. “No,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “Don’t… not yet.”

You stilled, your gaze meeting hers. Her wide, vulnerable eyes held a pleading look that spoke volumes, and you felt her inner walls flutter faintly around you, still pulsing in the aftermath of her climax. “I need this,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Stay… please.”

You exhaled softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice warm and reassuring. “I’ll stay.”

Her body relaxed again beneath you, her legs loosening slightly but still holding you close. She shifted just enough to get comfortable, her head nestled into the crook of your neck, her breaths warm against your skin. The intimacy was almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so deeply connected both physically and emotionally grounding you both.

Time seemed to blur as the exhaustion began to take over. Her body molded against yours, her hands resting lightly on your back as her breaths evened out. Despite the fullness she still felt, her body relaxed entirely. It wasn’t discomfort anymore; it was a sense of being whole, of closeness she didn’t want to end.

“Natty,” you murmured softly, brushing your lips against her temple. “I’m just moving us. I’ve got you.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, her voice barely audible as her head nestled further into the crook of your neck. Carefully, you rolled her over, cradling her as you shifted until she was on top of you. The change in position was smoother than expected, her lighter frame settling easily against your chest. She sighed softly, her cheek pressed to your collarbone, her body melting into yours like she belonged there.

“This is better,” you murmured, your hands tracing soothing patterns along her back. “Easier for me to hold you.”

She mumbled something incoherent, her voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. The warmth of her breath against your skin made you smile, and you began to pepper soft kisses across her face. You started at her temple, trailing down to her cheek, then across the bridge of her nose. Each kiss was tender, deliberate, a quiet celebration of everything you’d just shared.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you murmured between kisses. “You’ve been incredible.”

She hummed again, the sound low and contented, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Her body relaxed even further against yours, the tension completely melting away as your words wrapped around her.

Your hands moved to her hair, threading through the strands gently as you continued to speak. “You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice soft and warm. “I’m so proud of you. So proud of how far you’ve come.”

Her arms tightened around you, her fingers clutching softly at your sides as she sighed deeply. The rise and fall of her chest against yours slowed, her breathing evening out as her exhaustion began to take over. Her head tilted slightly, her lips brushing against your collarbone in a gesture so faint it was almost subconscious.

As her breathing deepened, you felt her weight grow heavier against you, her body finally succumbing to sleep. You wrapped your arms more securely around her, pressing one final kiss to her forehead as her face relaxed into the softest expression of peace.

“Sweet dreams, Natty,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a tranquil stillness, the quiet intimacy wrapping around you both as you closed your eyes. Still connected, still grounded in each other, you let sleep take you, the warmth of her presence the last thing you felt before drifting off.

Afterward, she lay curled against your chest, her body trembling faintly as the intensity of the night ebbed away. Her breaths were soft and uneven, her cheek pressed against your skin, her warmth melding into yours. You brushed a hand through her hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands as you pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“You did it,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with pride. “You made it. And you were perfect.”

Her lips curved into a soft, sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice fragile and barely audible, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate serenity of the moment.

You smirked slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting as your hand drifted to her back, tracing lazy circles against her skin. The rhythmic motion was soothing, grounding her as she nestled closer into your embrace. “Don’t forget this feeling, Natty,” you said, your tone steady but laced with affection. “You earned it.”

A soft hum escaped her lips, her exhaustion pulling her deeper into the comfort of your arms. Her body slackened, her breathing evening out as she surrendered completely, her trust in you evident in every relaxed line of her form.

You lay there quietly, the room settling into a peaceful stillness. The faint scent of her lingered in the air, a reminder of the passion and vulnerability she’d shared with you. A quiet pride swelled in your chest. She had given herself over to you fully, trusted you with every part of herself, and in return, you’d given her everything she had needed—and more.

As she drifted into sleep, her body curled protectively against yours, you held her close, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. For now, the storm was over, and you both could bask in the calm it left behind.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #male reader #kiss of life #kiof #kiss of life natty #kiof natty #kiss of life natty smut #kiof natty smut #natty smut #natty kiss of life #natty kiof #natty x reader #anatchaya suputtipong

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saymio · 2 months ago

Text

Guns Aren't Toys

Pairing: Kang No-eul (guard 011) x Fem!reader

Summary: noeul loves you, she truly does. she wants to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and all hers. so when you try to gain some independence from her....she decides its time to scare you into being hers forever.

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, gun play, carving/knife play, blood kink, dubcon, light bdsm (tying you to a bed), noeul is giving heavy yandere vibes, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. english isn't my first language and I haven't written in so long, I'm sorry if its bad (MDNI)

6.1k Words

...

you befriended noeul not long after the games ended, at first you had no idea what she did..or who she even was. you didn't know where she came from, where she worked, you didn't even know her exact age. but nonetheless something about her compelled you to her. maybe it was the way she carried herself..she stayed lowkey but wasnt a pushover. or how cool and attractive she was...it always seemed like she knew what she was doing. whether it was something small like cooking an egg or folding clothes...she seemed so knowledgeable and aware of everything around her. to you noeul was your dream girl, she was so mysterious but also so interesting...so quiet but so compelling...

she was a regular at the coffee shop you used to work at. always ordering the same thing, a black coffee with no sugar. it fit her..sleek and to the point. she quickly became part of your daily routine... check out the hot older woman that would pass by everyday... but suddenly in the middle of the summer she stopped appearing at the coffee shop. at the time, you knew nothing about the woman, less than when you finally became her friend. only her face, coffee order and where she always sat. at the left corner of the cafe, she always seemed to ponder about something. she didn't look distressed when she would but.. she didn't look calm either. you wondered if she was on a vacation.. you hoped she was. you were getting nervous about the idea that she moved out of the city, she wouldn't leave just like that right? she'd be back, right?

days and days have passed and still no sign of noeul. you started to give up on the idea that she would be back, its been a week since she left and summer was nearing its end... it made you sulk and pout at the thought, not even getting the chance to have a real conversation with her... what a bu- ding..ding the sound of the door cut you away from your thoughts, at first you didn't even realize. maybe its been so long and your memory has started to get hazy, or you were just so tired you didn't bother to look at their face that much... but once she was Infront of you..you realized.. shes back!

"one black coffee with no sugar please." her monotone voice sounded like an angel just sung to you. you didn't even know her but god did you miss her sexy face. "you're back" you stared at her with soft eyes and a smile as you handed her the change from her drink. you didn't notice then but it caught her off guard. someone had noticed she was gone..were they welcoming her back? did they want to know why she was gone? why'd they even care..she didn't know them like that....but it still made a small part of her heart beat a little bit faster... "what happened to your cheek?" you were getting out your comfort zone, you were usually timid and too anxious to attempt small talk to a customer. especially one as attractive as the one standing Infront of your eyes. "nothing. thank you for the coffee." she rubbed her right cheek and walked off...usually youd leave it at that. you wouldn't interact with her again because it was clear she wasn't interested in your small talk.. but... what if she disappeared again? and what if this time she never came back? you didn't want to risk fumbling someone as perfect as her. the epitome of a seemingly perfect woman... you looked around the shop, making sure the coworker that never showed up that day didn't randomly appear...and making sure there wasnt any customer on their way inside. you slipped your apron off and slowly made your way to the corner noeul always sat at. "a..ahem...can I sit here...?" clearly nervous you shuffled with your fingers, looking away as to not make eye contact with her...it'd probably make things 10x more embarrassing if she said no. "yeah, you can" ... and with that the two of you formed a friendship that only grew as days passed. not knowing what kind of future awaited the two of you.

timeskip

its been around 2 years since the two of you met and well, you're both dating now. and have been for the past year.. you obviously know more about noeul now but shes still as mysterious as ever, you think its attractive though. and it seems a lot of her background is touchy so you don't push on it...shes only mentioned that she isn't from south korea once and that's about all you've gotten surrounding that...but what isn't attractive to you is how controlling shes been lately. at first you though it was cute. she wouldnt let you go out alone for too long or befriend anyone new without her knowing when you first started dating. that was pretty normal for a girl that had her strange tendencies, right?. what isn't normal is how she made you quit your job so you could be 'safe' at home. she wont allow you to be out alone at all. she doesnt even let you have any social media account..you were banned from all of it. you have to ask her to do everything if you can shower, watch TV, if you can eat. and its really starting to scare you. she put a lock on the bedroom door from the outside, and only she had the key. so you cant go anywhere when you two sleep unless you wake her up for permission. you never even realized how bad its gotten until it was too late. you were wearing rose tinted glasses, not letting yourself see how toxic shes gotten. and now that you've taken them off, you're far too deep in the rabbit hole to just climb your way out. she waits for you outside the bathroom, she doesn't let you lock any doors, you cant even be in a different room from her for more than 10 minutes before she barges in. the only time you truly feel safe and alone is when she leaves for around a week every summer.

youre nearing your 2 year anniversary with her. you'd be ecstatic if it weren't for the fact shes basically taken over your entire life. if it was bad 1 year in, it's horrible now. you can barely even breath without her staring holes into your face. you feel trapped and you're starting to regret ever approaching her that day. what happened to the noeul that was calm and well kept? the one that would help you with your uni work and tell you small stories about her life as a 19 year old. stories she thinks you can relate to since you're the same age. what happened to the noeul that would laugh at the jokes you'd make of her age. not minding it when you'd call her old because she knew you loved her age. now even mention it and she 'calmly' asks you "isn't this what you wanted? an older woman to slut you out?" normally your panties would've been soaked and you'd just ask her to eat you out at that moment but it feels so aggressive.. you're on edge around her, you don't want to make her upset... but you can never tell when you have because of her stoic face. she never seems to break the calm facial expressions she always has. either a smile or just no readable expression at all...

but there is good news, news that could maybe get you out of this mess. you were scared of her, not only that but you had no money. she was the one taking care of the both of you... so what if...you got a job? if you applied and they accepted you no way she would just force you to quit right? and maybe..maybe she'd change...so you wouldn't need to use the money to buy a small apartment for yourself

...

"I'm going now." noeul stares at you with a soft expression, one that will always melt your heart no matter what has happened between the two of you. "okay baby, please stay safe. I love you" you run into her arms, hugging her tightly before getting onto your tippy toes to give her a loving kiss. even though you're scared of her, scared of what she might do in the future...you still love her. with your entire life, and you really do mean it when you say it. her cold hands cup your face as she kisses your forehead. her soft lips leaving a warm feeling not only on your head but in your heart too. "here.." she pulls her right hand from her pocket, showing 2 silver keys and a small phone. ones for the front door, and the other is for all the other rooms in your apartment. "you already know the rules, right doll?" you hesitantly nodded as your smaller hands grabbed the two keys and phone from hers. "I'll still repeat them incase you forgot one. you arent allowed to leave the house unless you need to buy food, you cant stay up past 8pm, the phone is only for important calls, and you cannot talk to anyone. no one at all... you understand princess?" you nod your head slowly, looking up at noeul as she smiles. her smile isn't that genuine though. its more of a cold, forced smile... maybe one that's supposed to intimidate you into obeying her rules... but you already have a plan. and that plan breaks all those rules.... "I'll be back in a week like always, I love you. okay y/n?" she kisses you once more before leaving the space you two were once in, filling it with silence before you heard the soft click of the door closing.. you knew exactly what you needed to do now, you need to escape the tight grip she has on your life.

its been a day since noeul left to go do her weird murdered job. you know about the games but it doesnt phase you too much. not even when you first heard about it. you even thought it was a little thrilling.. your girlfriend kills people for money...shes scary..scary and hot. not only that but you were so in love you didn't even care. maybe she knew that. maybe that's why she told you, she knew she had you wrapped around her finger. but you were different now, you took off the glasses that diluted the world. you were facing it head on it with the hard truth. you love noeul with all your heart but...you don't want to be in a relationship where you're scared for your...life

you were so distracted in your thoughts you didnt even realize you walked past the store you wanted to apply to work at. the coffee shop you met noeul at .. where you found love.. you walked a couple steps back before you faced the brown and green door, the one you would see every day in the morning and night.. ding ding the sound of the door opening rang in your ears, the same sound as always. you should be happy at this moment, you're going to apply for a job.. you'll be able to escape noeuls crazy controlling life style... you should be happy...but why weren't you. you felt nothing but dread walking into that store. your stomach was doing flips, your palms were getting sweaty and you felt your heart beating outside your chest. thoughts started to flood your head as you stood there inside the cafe, like your feet were glued to the ground. .....but- noeul..I shouldn't do this. I'm breaking her trust. she trusts me I- but I need to get away..shes scary...but but but..... "y/n?" the familiar voice cut you away from your thoughts..you looked up and it was the lady you used to always work with. she was only a few years older than you but she was always the more childish one between the two. the both of you shared the same shift and you weren't friends but you were.. close strangers maybe? "a- minyoung... hello" you bowed awkwardly. not wanting to be rude but also not trying to come off as too respectful "y/n, hi! I thought I'd never see you again after you quit haha.." she joked, a little unsure but she has the compassion. "uh..are you here to apply for work?" she stared at you, anticipating your answer.. it felt like the same eyes you were giving noeul when she came back to the shop that day.. waiting for her to say yes to you. 'yeah I am..can I?" min young softly smiled at you and nodded. as if welcoming you back to the cafe. you felt a pang in your chest, like your heart was telling you no. to just listen to noeul and you'd be safe. but you had a feeling that wasnt true. you wanted to do your own things even if it meant leaving the woman you loved most. because at this point, you dont even recognize her

it didn't take long for you to get accepted..like at all. when you got home from the cafe you saw you already had a text message. "hello y/n, I'm pleased to inform you that your application has been accepted. thank you for applying. you come into work starting tomorrow :)" it was honestly no surprise to you that they accepted your work application so quickly. not to sound cocky but you were undoubtedly the best worker they had, if someone didn't show up you'd come in their space, you wouldn't flirt with customers you made the coffee perfectly, you'd clean up the cafe before closing the store up, you never made mistakes. and it was even more impressive when your coworkers almost always didn't show up or do anything..other than minyoung. you smiled to yourself, was this truly the start of a new life? were you finally going to be free from noeuls grasp? you still felt sad, like you were breaking the trust she had in you but...you just wanted to be free...and maybe...maybe this could change her mind and she'd be less strict with you. it could go back to when you first started dating..she wouldnt control every aspect of your life. that's all you wanted right now.

you were losing track of how many days you'd been working. not paying attention to if noeul overstayed her work trip, or if it was even the day she was coming back. you were just happy to finally be back at work, with minyoung. the two of you were a lot closer now..closer than before. you two again shared the same schedule. right now she was drawing on the palm of your hand, you had no idea what it was but you were holding in your giggle and trying your best to stay still since the pen was tickling your palm. it seemed as if she drew a cat and was drawing numbers, you weren't really paying attention now though. you were staring outside the window..looking at the now setting sun. minyoung would drive you home everyday, your shift didn't end until it was dark and she didn't want anything to happen to you.. but you suddenly felt a strong sense of dread, like something bad was going to happen...and it was going to happen quick. "uhh..minyoung" you spoke with an obvious edge to your voice, it was almost shaky with nervousness. but it seemed she didn't pick up on that as she only hummed at you and stayed focused on your palm. "do you feel nervous too? I dont know...I just feel scared right now" minyoung stared up at you confused and worried.. "huh? I dont feel it..no.. do you want to go home early? maybe you're sick" you shook your head no and stares down at your palm, the ink started to smear a little. your palms were getting sweaty..you were only getting more nervous.. before you could mutter another word the cafe door flung open, a loud bang over powering the ding the door usually made when opened. you and minyoung flinched and jumped back as you stared at the person there. it was noeul..she clearly ran her way here on foot..you had no idea from where but she was gasping and sweat lined her forehead..not only was she sweating but a scowl covered her face. she was angry...and she was angry at you. minyoung leaned into your ear and quickly whispered something... "isn't that the lady that used to always come by? sh-" noeul loudly interrupted your coworker, the loudness of her voice startled you both. it was like there was a megaphone connected inside her throat.. "y/n. come here. now." she stood right in front of the cafe door, you were stunned. you didn't know what to do. it was like your mind was focused on only noeul because for a bit you forgot minyoung was even there. "don't make me ask again, doll." her voice was stern but gentle. it wasn't loud and upset like just a moment ago...but you were still scared of her...of what she'd do.. you gulped down the lump forming in your throat and took off your apron. you opened the small door that separated the baristas and the customers, with a light click it was free... you slowly walked towards noeul, you were anxious..and nervous. she wouldnt do anything to you right? especially not Infront of someone else.. you were now facing her, her sharp features stared at you like daggers. her seemingly dark soulless eyes only made you shake harder..you were terrified. "noeul i-" before you could even muster the rest of your sentence she gripped at your hair and pulled you out of the store. you shrieked and clawed at the hand that griped at your hair but it was no use..noeul was a lot stronger than you and you knew now that you messed up..big time. "p-please noeul stop AH! please please stop noeul that hurts that hurts it hurts please!" your pleas fell on deaf ears as she only dragged you down the street before stopping infront of a taxi. "take us to ----- please" you were blacking out, your head was fuzzy. you didn't know what to do you were so scared. you never thought noeul would actually hurt you, but she was. she was hurting you. and it hurt...alot... the man stared at noeul and at you, wary of letting a potential kidnapper inside his car. "this is just a kink of ours. don't worry" he stares at you waiting for any kind of response...you didn't know what to do...so you just nodded.. noeul opened the taxi door and pushed you inside.

just as noeul was moving her way inside the car you heard someone yelling your name..it was minyoung...she was running down the street frantically waving her hands at the taxi driver, trying her best to get him to not go so she could save (?) you from noeul. but it didn't work.. "go, I'll pay you more if you get us there quickly." noeuls deadpan voice only sent shivers down your spine, she was so calm. even when she was basically kidnapping you. "yes ma'am." and like that the car started and drove off, leaving minyoung there as she slumped down onto the ground..crying out of fear for you.

you were at the apartment you two shared, you were sitting on a chair at the dining table. occasionally shifting in your chair, causing it to creak under the pressure...youre only staring at your lap, refusing to stare at noeul. you're scared that if you do, youll fall into pieces in front of her...that's only an opening to getting taken advantage of. "why'd you try leaving me. why'd you break my rules. I told you clearly, but look at you now. do you know why I put up these rules?" right at the other end of the table sat noeul. her dark eyes drilling holes into your head, her voice was calm but irritated. all she wanted was for you to stay safe, so why. why dont you want to obey? "i-..I just want freedom..you're always behind me..supervising me like I'm some delicate child..I don't want it anymore" the two of you barely started speaking but you were already tearing up, you just want noeul to love you normally. you want your relationship to be normal. "y/n. you are a child. you are a helpless child. you're barely in your twenties. do you really think you can strive alone in this cruel world? you live comfortably with me because I take care of you. I keep you safe. you don't need freedom. you need safety and that's with me." her voice only got deeper and more aggressive. she was getting upset, just hearing you say you wanted to do your own things made her want to lock you inside your bedroom forever. "you're so naive y/n. you really think the world would be as nice as I've been to you? you're wrong. you wont survive without me and you know it. stop trying to be independent because we both know you'd be dead without me." tears started to stream down your plush cheeks, your nose was getting runny and your voice was getting shaky. you felt your throat close up, you felt like you couldn't speak. you didn't know what to do. "i-..I just want to be free..i- dont feel safe around you i-" a loud bang filled the small living room the both of you were sat in. noeul had slammed her hand onto the table, startling you and making you jump. this just caused you to cry harder. you were just scared, you were scared of her. you just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. "scared of me? you? you're scared of me? who approached me first? who told me she liked me first? who make the first moves? it was all you y/n. you did everything. it's you're fault you're with me and now you have to deal with it. cant you just realize I'm keeping you safe? you were born to be mine. why cant you just let it process in your brain?" aa..there it was. she had a habit of turning things and pinning it onto you. you were tired of it, you were tired of this. "you always end up blaming me! why am I always wrong? why cant you just admit what you're doing is wrong! I cant even breath without you staring me down! I'd just be better off without you...not living in fear.." you sobbed into your hands, you were shaking and crying. was this a break up? were you breaking up? noeul hasn't said anything, she wasn't even moved..so maybe it was... but what you didn't know, those words to noeul were like stab into her heart. if you thought you were better off without her. then she had to show you that you truly weren't. youre nothing but a lost puppy without her... you wiped your salty tears with your sleeves, you eyes felt puffy and you were tired..maybe you'd just sleep in an alley way tonight and figure the rest out later...you got up slowly, and made your way to the front door...you were going to leave..you were doing it..you were free from her grasp.. just as your soft hands touched the cold door knob you felt something hard hit you in the back of the head...and before you knew it you fell to the floor and blacked out.

you woke up gasping for air, you were hyperventilating.. gasping loudly and uncontrollably, looking around and all you saw was darkness you couldn't see anything. you tried to get up and you felt your hands being tied down...you were handcuffed to the bed.. you started freaking out, crying as you tried to calm yourself down. "noeul..please...I'm sorry.." your words were barely over a whisper, you choked out quiet sobs as you just let yourself lay there. you had no way out. and you're slowly starting to realize this... click noeul turned on one of the bedroom lights, giving it enough light for you to look around. but not enough to light up the whole room. "princess..." your eyes snapped up, staring at the figure in front of your bed...lean and tall..it was noeul.. the shadows of her face making her features even sharper than before. she was like a wood carving..every detail was meticulously carved and shaped... "n-noeul..please..I'm sorry.. let me go.." tears staining the collar of your sweater, you stared up at her. desperate for her help. "nope." she deadpanned, but her face wasn't stoic. she was smiling..the same smile she gave you before she left for her job. it wasn't genuine. it was sinister..and intimidating. "who was that girl? the one that chased after you when we left. was that your new girlfriend? is she why you're trying to leave me?" your eyes widen as you shake your head frantically. the last thing you want her to assume you're doing is cheating..especially right now. "n-no I'm not close to her like that! shes just my old co worker.. she isn't even my friend..." you gulp, your throat feels dry and your head is getting fuzzy. she believes you right? she'll let you go once she realizes you're telling the truth.. right? her icecold face feels like its burning you, you cant tell what shes thinking. and it scares you shitless. "yeah. so is that why she wrote her number on your hand? or are you gonna keep acting stupid." wait..what? you stared at her with genuine confusion, unsure what she was talking about. and its not like you could stare at your hand to check..and she caught on your confusion. she knows how you act. you've been together for 2 years now..she knows you. "she wrote her number on your hand. I guess you didn't know though...why would you let someone else touch you though. or speak to you." you stared at her...you didn't know what to say...so you just looked away and stayed quiet. you didn't want to trigger her even more.. "I guess I'll just have to show you that you're mine. and mark you while I'm at it too.." she smiles, her eerie smile..as always... she turned around and walked towards a nightstand near the bed, she opened the top cabinet and took out two things that made your breath hitch in your throat. a knife and a barrel. you started to kick your feet and squirm under the restraints she put on you. you dont want to die...you don't want to die like this.. "don't worry doll, I wont you....I'll just..show you that you belong to me" he sets the gun down next to you before lifting your skirt and grazing the knife on your plush thighs. you started to cry, the feeling of the cold metal touching your skin was terrifying. what if she cuts deep? what if it gets infected? what if- your body jolts up at the stinging feeling that's overwhelming your right thigh. you cant look at it. you cant. but you can feel warm blood drip from your thigh and on to the blanket under you. youre shaking uncontrollably now..you don't know what to do..you cant do anything either way.. you stare down and watch her as she carefully moves the sharp knife on the skin of your thigh. your blood painting the knife red as she carves her name on your thigh.. KANG NO EUL the cuts are large, it takes up half your thigh...you can feel the stinging..it hurts...the blood...you feel dizzy... and if the fact noeul just carved her name onto you wasn't bad enough, her licking the blood off of you made it worse. "your blood tastes nice...i can only wonder how you taste. hm?... I already know ofcourse.. but I forgot already."

she smiled up at you, but her smile was different..not full of anger..but desire. maybe it was how her eyes looked. or the context of what just happened but..it made you feel some way. "a-are you done now..I'm scared..." noeul stares at you, a blank stare and leans down and licks ur cheek so slow that it makes you almost uncomfortable .. "youre so cute when you're scared. it makes me horny.. did you know that?" she gave you her infamous smile before quickly grabbing the gun next to you and pointing it at your head.. if you weren't scared before you definitely were now. "you wanna live, right baby?" you nodded like a madman, your eyes looking up at her. pleading with her for your life with just your eyes... but if noeul had a dick it'd be ripping through her pants right now, staring at you so vulnerable and scared..it makes her so horny. you're so weak..she needs to ruin you.. she tapped the tip of the gun onto your lips as she looked at you with a creepy wide grin, her soulless eyes scrunching up in the corner. "deep throat the gun and you'll live." what...w- you cant do that.. its a gun...guns aren't toys to mess around with..you...you don't want to.. "if you dont want to that's fine. ill just pull the trigger and leave you here dead. are you gonna be smart, or stupid y/n." you gulped down, your mouth was dry and you felt like you'd die of dehydration at any second. your lips quivered as you opened your mouth wide enough for noeul to push the gun into your mouth. you started to suck at the gun, occasionally gagging as noeul pushed the gun too far into your throat. your movements were limited as your arms were still chained onto the bed frame. wet noises filled the room and you sucked on the gun as if it were a dick. your spit dripping off your chin and the gun. "ffucck..if I knew how hot this would be before i wouldve made you do this ages ago.." your face started to heat up, your face pounding inside your chest as you stared at noeul. her breathing was getting heavy and uncoordinated... she was getting turned on. your mouth made wet slurping noises, you were doing good and haven't stopped..until you flinched and took the gun out of your mouth.. noeuls thumb sneaked under your skirt and had started to make circles around your clothed clit. you held in your noises but some snuck their way through. noeul looked up at you, face a bit flushed and stared at your mouth.. "who told you could take the barrel out of your mouth?" you flinched eyes zapped around the room, as if looking for someone who could potentially be looking at the two you before stuffing your mouth with the gun again. you started up at her with wide dilated pupils, your huge eyes now burning holes into her head. and God did she love it. your face was flushed red as you felt noeuls fingers slip your panties off, the cold air of the room hit your pussy as you shivered under the cold air. the stinging, the cold air, the metal of the gun.. all your senses are getting overwhelmed you don't even know what's happening. noeul takes the gun out of your mouth, giving you a chance to properly breathe. your rabid breaths and wet lips would drive any sane person insane. "fuck you're so sexy, js wanna ruin your body.." her other hand walked its way up your torso and your lips, she opened her mouth slightly..instructing you to do the same. you opened your mouth and let noeul shove 2 of her long fingers inside your mouth. the cold skin was a contrast to your warm wet mouth...you started to suck at them harshly, like you would die if you didn't. noeuls other hand started to rub your clit, causing you to shake and shiver under her touch... she was playing around with you, teasing you...until you finally felt two of her fingers go inside of you.. you moaned embarrassingly loud against her fingers as she moved her fingers in a rough pace. curling them, making a scissoring motion, plowing them in and out... it all hurt you, it felt like she was trying to split you in half.

your pussy made disgusting wet sounds, it was so loud it filled the room.. not only that but the sounds your mouth made as you were sucking on her other fingers made it considerably worse. "n-noeul ah- mh..fuck it hurts s-stop..." your words were a little muffled but the message still got out..it hurt and you didn't like that... noeul stared at you before slamming her fingers in and out of you insanely fast. it made you choke out a mix of a moan and screech because it just hurt so bad but also felt so so so good. noeul leaned down and was inches away from your face, her hot breath tickling your soft skin.. "you don't get to decide what I do to you. I'll ruin your body today and you wont be able to do shit about it." she grinned before taking her face away from yours. she shoved her fingers out of your mouth with a pop before slapping her hand hard against your tender cheek. leaving a red spot before rubbing the warm skin... "you understand?" her soft eyes stared into yours, you felt...weirdly safe? you couldn't pin point what you felt but it was nice.... "y..yeess ah- oh....noeul...fuck.." you arched your back against the bed, you felt yourself getting closer and closer..her fingers filling up your cunt as your juices dripped onto the blanket underneath you, some of it mixing with the now dried blood there too. "are you getting close baby?" her fingers goings faster and faster, at a speed you weren't sure was humanly possible. you nodded frantically, trying your best to grind onto her fingers even if you could barely move with the restraints tied to your wrist. "nope!"she gave a creepily happy expression before taking her fingers out of your cunt. "you don't really deserve it yet."

the two of you were at the dining table again, she had uncuffed you from the bed. and now you were sitting at the table you sat at only a few hours ago...your legs forced open, showing off for noeul. "you're so pretty...and delicate.." noeul got up from her chair and walked over to you grabbing the knife she used to cut your thigh. she traced it along your skin, making small patterns with it but never pressing hard enough to actually cut you. "you'd do anything for me right? you've realized how important I am to you right?" your voice feels shaking and sore, you don't know if you should say yes or no...but you had a feeling you'd die if you said no.. "y-yes mommy..i-..id do anything for you... m' entire world..." you looked up at her, you had no idea what was taking over you. you were just so fucking horny for her. you needed her so bad even if you were terrified. you raised your legs a little and used your fingers to spread your pussy for her. "u-use me up please..." she grinned at you, she stared at you like a proud mother... like the mother you never had.. "good girl..." she patted your head, like she was petting a stray dog she found off the side of the street...like you weren't nothing more than a little pet for her to use. "then fuck yourself with this gun." she reached her hand behind her, setting down the knife and grabbing the barrel that sat at the table. usually you'd be freaking out right now, squirming in your chair and pleading with her to just pick anything else but..you weren't. you were just so needy for her, you needed to make her proud. forgive you for being bad...and..its not like its much different compared to deep throating one right?

your slick juices covered the cold metal of the gun as you started to insert it in you. it was large and it felt a lot more..unique..than what you're used to.. you pumped it in and out of your cunt, it was making loud noises and you were moaning and gasping at the feeling...it felt surprisingly good...you wanted more..more..more...you shoved it deeper and deeper inside of your gummy hole until you just couldn't put more inside, you were grinding onto it. moaning and letting whines and whimpers escape your mouth. you stared up at noeul noticing her usually calm stoic face flushed and scrunching up. she was touching herself to you. rubbing her clit as she watched you fuck yourself with the gun shes used to kill a few people in her life..it was so thrilling...so fucking hot. "n-noeul..can I cum..please ah-.." you were gasping, squirming and panting. you wanted to cum...she didn't let you cum on her fingers and you were twitching with neediness. you wanted to release..you could feel it coming and you weren't sure if you could hold back any longer.. "y..yeah..go ahead sweet heart..cum for me..ffuuck.." based on her breathing and the shakiness in her tone..she was close too...you moved it in and out of your cunt, sticky wet liquids all over your inner thighs, gun and some on your hands...you need this..you needed to release you need to.. "a-aah aou..ahh~ mm..yes..yes...ou m cumming m cumahh~!" your loud voice echoed throughout the apartment. your back arching against the chain as you came all over the gun, it felt so good..so fucking good... "that was so hot y/n...fuck...I need more of you.. now."

...

Another note:was the ending too abrupt? sorry if it was fue fue T T n sorry if the story seems too rushed esp the ending...bc it was.. I haven't written in a while so,, sorry if most of this sucked or felt repetitive>.< ....

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flemingology · 1 month ago

Text

drunk on you ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alcohol makes your girlfriend lose her inhibitions. but not her ability to make you feel so, so good

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding (dancing), language, smut (18+), strap (R receiving)

wc: 4.8k

an: save me drunk, messy and eager alexia save me. thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :)

Alexia’s at the annual end-of-season party with her teammates. The venue is a chic upscale rooftop bar overlooking the glistering city lights. It’s been rented out exclusively for the team, a night to celebrate another successful season and finally blow off some steam.

The atmosphere is vibrant, fairy lights and lanterns string across the space, casting a warm golden glow. Alexia stands by the bar with her usual calm, collected demeanor, though internally, she’s anything but. She can’t wait to get the night started, to lose some of her inhibitions that she clung to tightly during the season. She’s already had a drink, a glass of white, and is nursing a second more to keep her hands busy than anything.

She knows you’re coming. You texted her earlier saying you got held back a little at work, finishing up some meetings here and there, but ever since you texted her you were on your way, she’s been hyper aware of every moment ticking by. She missed you. She always misses you throughout the season. Not physically, of course, because you spend every moment of every day together. But Alexia always feels like her busy schedule forms a barrier between the two of you, as much as you both try your best to work around it. Now, with the prospect of a couple weeks off, and especially a fun night ahead, she can barely control herself.

When you finally arrive, the vibe shifts. Alexia noticed you the second you walk in, abandoning her conversation with Patri almost immediately, much to the dismay of the midfielder. Her gaze locks on to you, and her breath catches slightly at the sight. You’re wearing a black dress that hugs your figure just right, confidence radiating as you weave through the crowd. It’s moments like these that Alexia still has to pinch herself. You were hers, all hers, but sometimes she couldn’t quite believe that.

Her mouth quirks into a small smile, but her eyes already darken with desire. She feels her pulse quicken, and tightens her grip on the glass slightly. Internally, she’s already scheming how to get you alone, but for now, she stays composed as she watches you greet new and familiar faces before you eventually reach her.

As you make your way toward her, Alexia straightens up, setting her glass down on the bar. She doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a step closer and weaves her hands around your waist as if it’s where they’ve always belonged. “You made it.” Her voice is quiet, a mixture of relief and attention lacing her tone. Her fingers press gently into your sides as she pulls you closer, her forehead resting against yours. The world around you fades for a moment as Alexia tilts her head slightly, and her lips brush against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. When she pulls back, her thumb lightly strokes your hip through the fabric of the dress. “How was your day?” “Better now,” you laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Mine too.” She kisses you again then, a little firmer, but still unhurried. Just a silent reminder of how much she missed you throughout the day, even only after a short time apart.

It’s grounding, for Alexia. After a full day of meetings and training, her mind being pulled in different directions, having you there at the end of the day centers her. She feels the tension in her shoulders begin to fade, a warmth spreading through her chest that only you seem to bring out.

The party is in full swing, the venue feeling alive with music, laughter and the hum of conversations that ripple across the room. For a while, you and Alexia stick together, her hand occasionally finding the small of your back as you both engage with teammates, coaches and friends. You share a drink, clinking glasses with knowing smiles before being pulled into separate conversations.

At first, you keep Alexia in your peripheral vision. There’s something enticing about how she speaks animatedly to her teammates, her expressions more open and carefree than usual. Her laughter rings out above the chatter, a hearty sound that makes your heart flutter. It’s rare to see her this untroubled. During the season, she keeps herself to very strict standards, so you love seeing her thrive in environments like these. It doesn’t happen often, but when it happens, you can’t help but admire the way she lets loose.

You find yourself swept into conversations of your own, chatting with familiar faces and even a few new ones. Still, there’s an undeniable magnetism between you and Alexia. Every so often, your paths cross and she’ll slip her hand around your waist, leaning in to ask if you need another drink or if you’re enjoying yourself.

“Having fun, cariño?” She asks, her breath warm against your ear as she stands close. “Not more than you, apparently,” you tease, gesturing to the drink in her hand that should’ve been her fourth or fifth. She grins, playful and unbothered, and you’d give the world to have seen it plastered on her face a little longer. “I’m celebrating. Let me live a little.”

The party has escalated into a full-blown celebration. No more polite conversations and introductions to staff, the DJ has found his rhythm and the dance floor is pulsing with energy. People are laughing louder, dancing harder and drinks keep on flowing freely. You’ve slowed down on the alcohol, because someone has to drive you two home, and Alexia, it seems, has had more than enough for the both of you. You’re leaning against the bar, nursing a soda while watching on from a distance. She’s caught in a circle of teammates, all laughing and clapping as someone attempts a questionable dance move. Mapi, probably.

Her cheeks are flushed, her hair a little tousled, and she looks radiant in a way that makes your chest ache. She glances up and catches your gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she breaks away from the group and makes a beeline for you.

“You’re no fun over here,”’ she says, words slightly slurred and voice raised to compete with the music. She wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Come dance with me.” “I’m fine right here, Ale.” You laugh, placing a hand on her arm to steady her. “I need to drive us home, remember?” She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip jutting out as her fingers tug lightly at your wrist. “One dance. Just one.”

And who are you to resist her when she looks at you like that, on one of the very few nights in the year where she gets to let loose? She pulls you onto the dance floor, her hands immediately finding your hips. The beat is fast, but Alexia, too drunk to really notice, doesn’t care about keeping rhythm. She’s clumsy, her movements loose, but it’s endearing. “See? You’re having fun!” Alexia says, her lips close to your ear as her fingers dig into your waist. “You’re impossible,” you reply, but you can’t help smiling as she spins you around playfully.

The music shifts then, into something with a deep, pulsing rhythm. The dance floor grows tighter, couples dancing together while others simply lose themselves in the music. Alexia pulls you closer, her hands firm on your waist, and she turns you around so your back is flush against her chest. She rests her head on your shoulder while swaying the two of you. “Ale, seriously,” you murmur, but your voice doesn’t carry the seriousness you wished it would. “We’re not exactly alone here.” You can feel her smirk against you. “No one’s paying attention. Look around.”

You glance around briefly, and sure enough, everyone seems engrossed in their own little worlds. Her hands tighten slightly on your hips, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “I’ve barely touched you all night. Let me have this.”

You had a retort ready, really, but then her grip shifts, her strong hands guiding your hips in time with the beat, and it dies in your throat. “Ale,” you say again, but it’s weaker this time, your protest faltering as her thumbs rub small circles into your waist.

You swallow hard, your resolve crumbling. Against your better judgment, you let yourself lean back into her, the tension in your body melting as the music takes over. You start to move with her, letting her guide you, her strong frame pressed against yours. Her hands drop slightly lower, resting just above your hips, and her grip tightens as your movements grow bolder. She groans softly, the sound nearly lost in the music but still enough to make your stomach flip.

“That’s it,” she whispers, her lips delicately brushing the curve of your jaw. “Just like that.” Her hands shift again, sliding dangerously close to areas that weren’t appropriate in this setting, and you grab her wrists, stopping her before she gets too bold. “Don’t push it,” you warn, though your breath hitches as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. She chuckles, low and teasing. “I’m just warming you up for later.” Her comment makes your stomach flip, and it takes everything inside you not to lead her out of the crowd and home now.

As the song fades into another, you slowly pull back from your girlfriend, whose arms circle around your waist tighter in response. “Don’t go, cariño”, she murmurs into your neck. “Ale, I need a break, and you look like you could use some water.” You teasingly flick the tip of her nose, before softly pecking her lips a couple times and walking away.

The hours slip by, and the party grows louder, messier. Alexia drifts through the crowd, moving from one group of teammates to the other, seemingly always a new drink in her hand whenever you catch her gaze. You try to give her a couple disapproving looks, but she acts like she doesn’t notice, and continues on with her celebrations. It’s when you see her at the bar for the second time in five minutes, you think it’s time to intervene. Her balance is off and she leans against the counter of the bar to steady herself. The bartender is pouring her another drink, but you step in before she can take it. “Okay, Ale, I think you’ve had enough for the night, hmm?” “Huh? Por qué? I’m fine!” You hum, the way she slurs her words telling you she’s anything but. “Let’s go home, amor.” You don’t expect her to comply immediately, but she doesn’t complain when you wrap her arm around your shoulders and carefully guide her through the bar and to the parking lot.

The quiet of the night is a sharp contrast to the chaos of the party, and as you help Alexia into the car, you can feel her start to relax against you. She’s tipsy, her movements a little clumsy, but the way she laces her fingers with yours tells you she’s already thinking about what’s to come when you get home. The ride is filled with Alexia’s warm, slightly slurred murmurs against your neck. She keeps pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, her lips soft but uncoordinated. “You smell so good… I missed you tonight.” “Missed me? I was there all night, baby.”

She pulls back just enough to give you a half-hearted glare. “Not like that… you know what I mean.” Her hand slides up your thigh at that, delicately brushing her fingers over the exposed skin where your dress had ridden up a bit. Before it gets too high, though, you catch it and put it back in her own lap. “Save it for when we’re home, Putellas.”

The door clicks shut behind you as Alexia practically collapses into your side, her arm draped over your shoulders. Her steps are uneven, and her weight leans heavily on you, but the soft giggle that escapes her lips tells you she’s exhilarated. “You gonna help me with my shoes, or am I just supposed to struggle?” she teases, holding onto the wall for balance as she kicks one heel halfway off, then nearly topples forward. You laugh softly, reaching out to steady her by her waist. “At this rate, you’re going to break an ankle.”

Dropping to a crouch, you gently tug her heels off, your hands brushing against her bare ankles. Alexia watches you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, her fingers resting lightly on your shoulder to keep her balance. “There,” you say as you place her shoes by the door. “Gracias, mi ángel,” she murmurs, the pet name making your stomach flip.

As you both step further inside, Alexia’s fingers brush your arm, trailing down until she’s holding your hand. She tugs you toward the living room, but her movements are uncoordinated, and she nearly trips over the edge of the rug. “Careful,” you say, catching her again. “Maybe I had more to drink than I thought,” she admits, laughing as she pulls you closer. “You don’t say.”

The walk upstairs is a challenge. She almost falls more than once, needing to steady herself on the railing more than she’d like to admit. You’ve got a hand on the small of her back from behind, slightly pushing her forward. At the top of the stairs, she stops you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Wait,” she says, her voice low. You look up at her, your brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Her eyes drop to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. “Just… kiss me.”

It’s not a question, and before you can respond, her lips smash against yours. There’s nothing soft about it, not tender, not deliberate, it’s all tongue and teeth. She manoeuvres the two of you towards the bedroom and it’s a miracle that you reach it without her bumping you both into something. Her hands are roaming across your body hurriedly, like she wants to make up for lost time.

“Alexia,” you murmur against her lips, your hands tangling in her hair. “Tell me,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “Tell me you love me.” Your answer comes in the way you kiss her back, your fingers tugging at her shirt, desperate to feel her closer. Alexia groans softly, her lips moving to your jaw, then your neck, as she walks you backward toward the bed.

The back of your knees then hit the bed, and you sit down on the edge, Alexia pushing you further up the mattress. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” Alexia murmurs, her voice low and rough in your ear. Before you can respond, her hands slide under the hem of your dress, the coolness of her palms sending a shiver down your spine. She lifts the fabric slowly, deliberately, and you raise your arms to help her, the piece of clothing discarded somewhere behind her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes raking over you like she’s seeing you for the first time. Her fingers trail over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps. Her lips find yours again, this kiss deeper, hungrier, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls away slightly. “Let me take care of you,” she says, her voice almost a plea. You nod, your hands tugging at her shirt in return. “Only if you lose this first.”

Alexia chuckles, reaching behind her to yank the shirt over her head. The movement is hurried, and the hem gets stuck for a moment, causing her to fumble. You can’t help but laugh, but the sound dies in your throat when her toned body is revealed, the intensity in her gaze making it impossible to focus on anything else. “Something funny?” she asks, a playful smirk plastered on her face. “Nothing,” you manage, your own voice unsteady. “Just... hurry up.” She stands up quickly and her hands fumble with her belt, a huff of frustration leaving her lips at that. “You’re really not as smooth as you think right now.” “Shhh,” she replies, giggling as she finally gets it undone. “I’m still smooth enough.”

She climbs back onto the bed then, her movements not as fluid as they usually are, but her eagerness sends a wave of arousal through you. Her fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, and she pauses, looking up at you with a question in her eyes. “Can I?” You nod quickly, your breath hitching as she tugs them down, leaving you bare beneath her. “Dios mío,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re perfect.”

Her gaze catches yours as she trails her fingers down your body, and you let out a soft gasp as her digits find your clit. Although she’s clearly trying her best, her movements are a little jerky, and it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable for you. “Alexia…” you murmur, shifting slightly beneath her. “Am I-” she starts to ask, her brow furrowing, “is this okay?” You nod but guide her hand gently, showing her the rhythm you need. Her eyes soften, and she focuses harder, biting her lip as she matches your guidance. “There,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “That’s perfect.” She teases you a little, rubbing tight circles over your clit and eventually dipping her fingers down your folds to gather some arousal. It’s not perfect, it’s definitely not as precise as she usually was, but it felt good.

A couple moments pass when you suddenly notice her body is no longer pressed against yours. She reaches over to the bedside table, clumsily rummaging through the contents of the bottom drawer, but you know what she’s looking for. She eventually retrieves the strap, a goofy triumphant smile on her face. As Alexia stands up from the bed, you take a moment to get comfortable, moving up the bed and against the pillows. You ground yourself, taking a couple deep breaths, but you notice that Alexia is taking way longer than usual. When you open your eyes again and look over at her, you can’t help but choke out a laugh at her state. She’s fumbling with the harness of the strap, and it would be adorable if she didn’t seem so worked up about it. “Need any help over there?” “No,” she insists stubbornly, and it takes a couple more tries, but she eventually manages to get it on snugly.

As she walks back over to the bed and climbs on top of it, you can’t help but drift your gaze down to the silicone between her legs. If there was one way that Alexia knew to make you crazy, it was with her strap. Her muscled body and athlete’s stamina often made for multiple orgasms a night, the midfielder usually only ever stopping when you had to tap out.

She spreads your legs with one hand and rubs some lube up and down the strap with the other, and you feel a jolt of arousal course through you at the sight of her hand pumping up and down the toy. “Ready, mi amor?” You bite your lip and give her a nod, eyes fixed on the way she slides the toy between your folds, your breath catching in your throat as she rubs it over your clit a couple times. “Ale,” you start, your voice desperate, “please.”

As Alexia sinks into you, her breath catches in her throat, and her hands clutch your hips with a desperation that makes your heart race. "God, you're perfect," she groans, her voice slurred but full of emotion. Her lips press against your jaw, her words tumbling out. "I missed this. Missed you." Your nails rake lightly down her back as you arch into her. "You feel so good, Alexia," you whisper, your voice trembling with pleasure. "Just like that."

Her movements are messy, her thrusts uneven, but there’s something intoxicating about the way she moans your name. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy," she murmurs, her words slurred but passionate. "I can't, mi amor, I can't get enough of you." She loses her control at that, her thrusts becoming harsh as she grips your hips so tight you’re sure there’s gonna be a bruise tomorrow. You try to match her pace, guiding your hips along with her movements, but it’s to no use, as she seems to speed up inexplicably more. You try to relax and enjoy it, but it’s teetering on the edge of painful and you know she wouldn’t like it if you didn’t tell her.

You grip her shoulders, guiding her rhythm as best you can. "Slow down, baby," you murmur, your breath hitching when she adjusts. "Just take your time." Alexia nods against your neck, her lips brushing your skin. "Anything for you," she whispers hoarsely, her thrusts becoming more deliberate. "Just tell me... tell me what feels good, cariño."

When her pace steadies, a deep groan escapes her lips. "You're so tight," she mutters, her words broken and breathless. "So perfect for me." Your hands find her face, cupping her cheeks and forcing her to meet your gaze. "I love you," you say, your voice trembling as she hits the perfect spot inside of you with every thrust. Alexia’s eyes darken, and she lets out a low, guttural moan. "Say it again," she pleads, her thrusts deepening. "I love you," you repeat, your voice louder this time. "Only you."

You feel your first orgasm fast approaching, the weight of Alexia’s vulnerability combined with the way she seems to have perfected her thrusts, even in her drunken state, is pushing you to the edge far more quickly than you would’ve liked. The tension builds between the two of you, Alexia’s breathing growing heavier in your ear and you letting out moan after moan, no longer caring about who in your apartment building you’re keeping up with how loud you’re being.

Alexia's grip tightens, her lips brushing against your ear. "Come for me," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding despite her drunken haze. "Please, mi amor. I need to feel you." Her words push you over the edge, and your release triggers her own. You let out a desperate whimper of her name as she buries her face in your neck, her moans muffled but no less intense as she shudders against you. "Te amo," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "So much, more than anything."

After a brief lull, where you’re both catching your breaths and Alexia rests her forehead against your shoulder, her warm breath tickling your skin, she stirs again. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your thigh, her touch sending little sparks through your body. "I’m not done with you," she murmurs, her voice slurred but filled with determination. You chuckle softly, still trying to recover. "Ale, you’re drunk."

“Doesn’t seem like that kept me from making you feel good just now.” You blush at her words, and you know she’s right. You hit her shoulder lightly, feigning annoyance, but the smile playing on your lips gives you away. Before you can protest, she’s shifting you onto your stomach, her hands clumsy but insistent as she guides your hips up. "Stay just like this," she says, her words breathy and almost pleading.

You lean your head down onto your forearms, waiting patiently for Alexia to adjust herself behind you, still trying to catch your breath from your first orgasm. Alexia’s hands roam your body, her touch eager. She fumbles a bit, trying to adjust herself, and lets out a frustrated groan when the strap isn’t cooperating. "Why is this so hard right now?" she mutters to herself, which makes you laugh softly. "Do you need help?" you offer, half-teasing, but there’s a fondness in your tone. "No, no," she insists, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I’ve got this. I swear."

Her hands tremble a little as she aligns the strap with your core, misjudging the movement a couple times. “Sorry, sorry, let me- wait, okay.” Finally, she aligns herself, and as she slowly pushes inside, the clumsiness fades. She lets out a low moan, gripping your hips tight. "Oh, fuck," you breathe, your voice raspy. "Fuck, that feels so good, Ale.”

Her thrusts aren’t as rushed this time, but she’s struggling to find a steady rhythm. She goes with deep, slow thrusts at first, but then speeds up a bit, and when you’ve finally adjusted, she slows down again. It feels good, but it’s not steady enough to be entirely pleasurable. “Babe,” you begin, your voice strained as you try to talk through the pleasure. “What? Did I hurt you?” Alexia speaks up before you can form your sentence, her thrusts slowing to a complete stop now. You look at her over your shoulder, your heart warming at the little frown that was etched across her forehead. “No, you’re not hurting me, baby. You’re just a little… off. Just try and be steady, yeah? I’ll guide my hips along.”

Her frown melts into a sheepish grin, and she nods, leaning forward to press a kiss against your cheek. “Sorry, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. “I’ll do better.” This time, when her hips roll forward, the sensation draws a soft gasp from your lips, your head falling forward on your forearms. “Like this?” she asks, her voice low and slightly slurred but full of intent, her gaze locked on your face. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Like that.”

A smug grin spreads across her face, her earlier clumsiness replaced with a determination to make up for it. “Told you I’m smooth with it,” she teases, her voice tinged with playful arrogance. “Shut up and keep going,” you reply, your words coming out in a breathless laugh.

She chuckles, her lips trailing down the back of your neck as her hands tighten on your hips, anchoring you against her as she moves with more purpose. The heat between you builds quickly now, every thrust deliberate, every press of her lips against your body filled with an urgency that leaves you both gasping for air.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with pleasure. “So do you,” you reply, your voice trembling as her movements drive you closer and closer to the edge. “Better now?” she asks, her tone playful but earnest, her lips brushing against your shoulder. “Much better,” you manage to say, your voice breaking into a soft moan as her rhythm deepens, her body pressing into yours with just the right amount of pressure. You know she won’t come again, usually only being able to come from the friction once, but you know she’s enjoying it just as much as you are.

Her arm slips around your body after a while, two of her fingers finding your clit as she draws quick circles, firm around the bundle of nerves, a desperate moan leaving your lips at the added pleasure. “God, Ale-”, you start, your voice breathy, “fuck, baby, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop, please.”

You lose yourself in your pleasure, your back arching for her and moan after moan spilling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer to your release. She leans down, her body flush against yours and brings her lips to your ear. “Let go for me,” she whispers, her voice tender but full of intent.

Her words and her movements are all you need, and when the release finally washes over you, it’s overwhelming, leaving your entire body trembling beneath her. She doesn’t stop, her touch soft and soothing as she helps you ride it out, her lips pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

When you finally come down, she collapses beside you, pulling you into her arms as you both catch your breath. “Better?” she asks again, her tone teasing but warm as she presses a kiss to your temple. “Perfect,” you reply, snuggling into her chest, your body still buzzing from the aftershocks.

Her fingers trace gentle patterns on your back as she mumbles, “I love you. Even if I’m a little drunk and clumsy sometimes.” You laugh softly, lifting your head to meet her gaze. “I love you too. Even if you’re a mess.” “Hey,” she protests lightly, her lips curving into a grin. “Shut up and kiss me,” you say, pulling her down into another kiss, her laughter muffled against your lips.

After cleaning each other up with a quick shower, Alexia is completely sobered up and you share the rest of your evening together, tangled in the sheets, whispering affirmations of your love and adoration for the other in the quiet of the night.

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