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kamitv · 9 months ago

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could you write about who you think are the most touch/affection-starved of the jjk boys? the thought of them crumbling at the slightest touch and savoring every second with us makes me 🥴🥴🥴

▷ Delicate

Sypnosis . Men who fold under your touch. / Pairings . (Separate) Nanami x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Ino x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, established relationships, fluff, begging men, sensitive men, soft sex, filth, dirty talk, etc. / wc . 4.8k

A/N: Grieving over the loss of my man right now-- Gege I hate you and the air that you breathe. This was going to include more men but due to the loss of my lover, my mood was ruined and I couldn’t finish what I had for the others… Anyway, not proof-read, hope you enjoy! ^.^ [MDNI]

★ Nanami Kento

While it may be a bit... unexpected, yes, Nanami is sensitive to your touch. Each one lingers on his skin, seeps through his clothing, and tattoos itself onto him.

He's a very stoic and, usually, stern man but when it comes to you, he's almost like putty under your touch. It's intoxicating really, the way you're always caressing his arms, grabbing his hand to hold when the two of you walk or even during sex.

You're quite the touchy woman and Nanami can't say he doesn't love that about you.

When he comes home after a long day of work, you'd rush to the door to greet him, dressed in your comfort clothes from head to toe with that bright smile of yours latched to your face. Your hands are on him instantly, helping him rid himself of his coat, his tie, hell, even his shoes sometimes if you're feeling enthusiastic enough.

It's cute really. The way you help him undress as soon as he steps into the house, asking him how his day was and reciprocating with a not-so-eventful tale of your day. He's listening to your every word though, hanging off every syllable even, but you don't notice it.

Even as you guide him toward the kitchen to show him a surprise dinner you'd whipped up, you're rambling about something concerning your cooking process and he's hearing every word but, the way your fingers slip down his arms, curl around his wrist to pull him along, release him and then press into his chest to stop him from walking-- it was truly alluring.

Nanami swears he wasn't always this sensitive to touch. He doesn't know why exactly his heart swells in while you keep your hand flat on his chest, your attention on some nearby pot as you continue to talk.

You were explaining something but he'd stopped listening, his eyes all over the side of your face and soon trailing to your arm, and then to the hand you've got on him.

Nanami's hand would be moving before he even realizes, slipping so gracefully to your wrist and moving your hand off of him just to lean down a bit and plant a loving kiss across your knuckles.

"And then I almost-," His sudden kiss would make your brain freeze, head whirling in his direction to see your husband planting peck after peck before he shifts your hand to cup the side of his face and then meets your gaze.

Those gentle brown eyes of his would be so sappy and soft with you, filled with a love you can hardly comprehend as he rests his head against your palm, grinning at you. What a handsome man you've married.

You couldn't be happier as you look at him, even with the sigh that leaves you, "Kento..."

His brows would raise ever so slightly, "Hm?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?" You'd huff out. And there's this slight frustration in your voice but he loves it anyway, completely and utterly smitten for you no matter the situation.

Nanami nods, just barely, before turning his head and kissing the inside of your palm, "Mhm," He hums casually, "You were telling me how you almost burned our kitchen down."

"Yes, and..." Your eyes narrow at the man, watching how he just kisses and kisses your palm, almost as though he couldn't pull himself away, "Ken..." Your hand slips a bit and you caress his face, "Are you okay?"

His hand, much veinier and larger than yours, would come up and cup yours over his face, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Your touch is just so... soft."

That earns a smile from you, "Is it?" You'd giggle amid your question, eyes lowering at the man before you.

"Yes, it is," Nanami responds simply. Then he begins moving your hand to the side of his neck and his head tilts as he looks at you, stepping closer and closing the slight space between you and him, "I love how gentle it is, how loving, how caring."

"Oh?" Your smile widens and you move your other hand away from the, now forgotten, pot and it goes toward the buttons of his shirt, "Should I start touching you more then?"

"I implore you to, yes," Nanami huffs out, his body leaning toward yours.

You bring your lower lip into your mouth and tip your head a bit, one hand toying with the buttons of his shirt and the other caressing the side of his neck, "Since when has my touch had you this... pleading," You question, words coming out slow as his eyes drop to your lips.

Your husband takes his other hand and grabs a careful hold onto your wrist, dragging your hand further down his body and making you feel against his abs through his clothing as he leans closer to you. His free hand then moves to your waist and he tugs you to him, closing any and all space left.

"Always," Nanami confesses to you, "Your touch makes me weak, sweetheart." He explains with that gentle yet deep voice of his, always so soft when speaking to you.

You smile, "Weak?"

"Yes, weak," Nanami whispers in agreement with a steady nod of his head, eyes doting on every aspect of your facial expression.

The man was so in love and his poured out of his every gaze, brown eyes lingering on your lips long enough to silently tell you what he wanted. So, your hand steadily undoes the first button on his shirt, moving your other hand from his neck to assist yourself.

Your eyes on his the entire time, you unbutton at least four buttons before taking a finger and grazing his bare chest, watching how his breathing stutters from something so light.

Smiling, "This, Kento..." Your voice is small in a sultry whisper as you drag your finger down and down until you pass his torso and reach the hem of his pants, "This makes you, weak?" You as tauntingly just before you begin unbuckling his belt.

His heart rate quickens and he swallows loud enough for you to hear, sighing as his head weighs to the side a little, "Hahh, yes, my love," Nanami tells you, face inclining down to your own.

Your gaze and his meet and the eye contact is heavy with tension, your fingers working his belt loose before you're teasing him by just barely unbuttoning his pants and making sure your fingers caress the area below his abdomen.

Nanami's lips twitch and so badly does he want to kiss you but he's too busy hanging off the slow words leaving your lips.

"Who would've thought?" You utter, smiling at your husband, "A serious man like you crumbling to your wife's small touches."

He tilts his head further and his lips are practically on yours as he speaks, "Small or not... they're touches from my wife." He emphasises just before giving you but a small peck on the lips.

You hum, "I suppose."

And then you're finally kissing him, lips molding into one another and his body melting to the feel of you. Oh how Nanami loves the way your lips part for his tongue to push through, the way you kiss him back with just as much passion as he approaches you with, and how warm and savory the inside of your mouth is.

Soft smacks emit from the two of your lips sliding over one another, your husband nipping at your lower lip and quick to kiss you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Then his hands are grabbing a firm hold of your waist, silently telling you that you're his to hold and touch however he feels.

His fingers, large, veiny, and thick, feel you through the fabric of your top, unable to pry off of you once he's got you in his grasp.

Then, into your mouth so very lowly, h's grunting, "Undress me," Nanami orders as he slightly steps forward with you.

You step back accordingly and your hands are flying back up, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and feeling him up afterward as you start slipping the item off of his body.

"Like this? Hm?" You whisper back to him as his shirt hangs off of him, his hands gripping onto you tighter and tighter whilst he walks you backward and out of the kitchen.

His voice makes your knees weak as his mouth detaches from yours and drops to your neck while you move to finally get his slacks off, "Yes, like that. Good girl," Nanami praises against your neck, soft but hot kisses making you gasp.

With your voice all breathy and your feet and hands stumbling with the large eager man before you, "C'mon Ken, at least make it to the bedroom," You murmur, his pants loose on his hips as he bulge brushes against your front.

"I'm trying." He groans, breath simmering into the crook of your neck before his tongue is felt against you.

You can't help but giggle, "You're trying?"

"Yes," He huffs out, voice hinted with this tune you rarely hear from him too often.

You're walking back and back until you bump into a wall for a second, your bedroom door now to your right as Nanami marks up your neck messily. Then you snicker, "Mmmh, I like you like this, Kento," You comment, to which he sighs.

Then he's off your neck and moving you to walk backward into your bedroom, clearly no longer patient.

Cocking his head to the side, "Like what?" Nanami asks curiously.

You shrug and the back of your legs hit the front of your bed, "Desperate, almost," You hum, brows furrowing a bit.

Nanami helps you settle yourself onto the mattress completely before he's crawling on top of you, shrugging his shirt completely off of his body and revealing his full chiseled physique to you.

"Starved?" He asks, trying to find the word you were looking for.

You shake your head and then it comes to you, your arms wrapping around his neck and tugging him down to you before you whisper, "Craving."

Nanami gazes at you for a long moment, simply taking you in before nodding his head slowly, "Craving, yes." He agrees.

Then, another long press of his lips to yours is made and your legs are adjusted to wrap around his waist, Nanami wanting any and all parts of you on him now.

His lips shift to the left a little and he kisses the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and then he drops to your neck again, making you do nothing more than smile as his hands work to get your clothes off of you.

Your top is soon removed, bottoms followed soon after, all of which is discarded to the floor somewhere before Nanami's kissing you again and forcing your hands to be on him.

"Run your fingers through my hair," He murmurs, directing one of your hands to his blonde locks of hair. Then, he takes the other hand and moves it to wrap around his neck, "Scratch my back while I fuck you," Nanami whispers, works making your breathing unsteady while he suddenly grinds his hard cock down into you, "Try pushing me away when it becomes too much, I don't care, just want your hands on me, okay?"

His directions had you hot all over, pupils dilated already, breathing heavy from his constant kisses, and your hands quick to run along his tensed skin before you nod with an obedient, "Yes sir." Leaving you.

Nanami just barely smiles and you feel his heavy cock twitch against you, "What'd I tell you about that?"

"I don't remember," You whipser, your fingers slipping down from his hair to caress his jawline and then pulling his face closer to your own, "Remind me, sir."

There's a smile on his face as his lips finally near your own again, "You'll be the death of me one day." Nanami utters to you lovingly.

And maybe one day you will.

But tonight?

Tonight you are nothing more than a hole for him to fill as he soon grunts into your ear telling you how good your cunt feels around him, telling you how pretty you look taking his cock, and moaning out how much he loves the way you touch him.

★ Choso Kamo

You always knew he was sensitive to your touch. Look at him. No, literally, look at the man. He's not sensitive to everything but your touch is most definitely his weakness.

You once gave the man nothing more than a handjob and he was cumming all over the damn place. You're not sure if you've ever seen your boyfriend so... whiney.

Choso had his legs spread like a slut for you as you sat oh so prettily beside him, fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking him torturously slow. Your thumb would caress his bulging veins, fingers would twirl around his fat tip, tap and slip in between the slit of his cock, teasing him.

And since you were sitting beside him, your breasts would graze the side of his arm, making him flinch over and over. You had him so tense, so sweaty, so loud.

Choso didn't even know he could moan this much just from someone's hand. He's jerked himself off plenty of times but when you do it, it's like blood rushes to both his head and his cock, his vision would blur, and his breathing would grow unsteady.

Maybe it's because of how you had teased him beforehand, running your manicured nails along his inner thigh as the two of you tried to watch a movie together. Only for your hand to accidentally graze his dick, somehow groping him through his clothing and then turning to look at him.

That was when he began to sweat buckets, cock springing up under your palm at one measly little touch and his breath hitching.

Then he was whispering a gruff little, "Baby," Making you smile as you did nothing but innocently bat your lashes at him. To which he'd tip his head back against the couch and swallow, "Stop teasin'..."

You then scooted closer to him, your thigh touching his as your voice neared his ear, "I barely even touched you, Cho," You had whispered, watching how even in the dim lighting, his face grew red and he struggled to keep his composure.

Turning his head to you, Choso was quick to meet your eyes with a low and desperate gaze, lids dimming, brows tensing, and breathing heavy. "Then touch me more, please." He requested quietly, deep voice making your cunt jump with excitement.

You quickly switched hands so that you could turn your torso to him, which was when your breast pressed into his arm and your hand then moved to work his cock out.

And yes, in minutes he was cumming in your hand, making such an embarrassing mess of your fingers. Your hand was so soft, jerking his twitching cock off so perfectly.

Choso was groaning into the air like he couldn't control it, "H-Hahh, aagh, baby-, baby fuck, y-your ha-hahh, hand-," His voice... squeaks? as he says that last word, pitching so deliciously that you have to squeeze your thighs together as you watch him tense up yet again, "S-Shit, m'gonna cum again," Choso breathed out through gritted teeth.

He was so sexy all sensitive and tense for you, making you smile as you watched his face twist up and his eyes flicker every time you focused your palm on his tip.

"Again, Cho? You're makin' such a mess, baby," You coo softly, breath just barely hitting his ear and adding on to the numerous things he was feeling.

His head was spinning at this point and he couldn't stop himself from watching your, much smaller, hand jerk him off, from quick pulls and tugs to slow drags and caresses, to twisting and rolling-- Choso was both in a daze and high off of watching you stroke his aching cock.

God damn you knew how to use your hand. You knew where he was sensitive, knew what to do and how to do it.

His cock was wet with cum and your hand just slide up and down and up and down, the sloppy sound filling the entire space and adding onto his arousal. Cum was slipping in between your fingers, all down to his balls-- shit, he really did make a mess.

It was nasty but... he liked it that way.

"P-Princess, fuuck, please," His voice was cracking, breaking because of you, eyes tearing up as your hand only got faster and faster, "Fuck fuck, please d-don't stop." He pants out, head flying back against the couch as his thighs closed and opened, almost like he wanted it all to end and yet continue at the same time.

Watching him had your body hot, there was a pulse coming from in between your legs and you had half the urge to get down on your knees and just suck him off since he was being so damn whiney.

But at the same time, you couldn't stop your hand. Not when he was about to cum again, not when you were about to drag the sound you were looking for out of him.

"Y'like that, Cho?" Such a simple question you murmured to him and yet it broke him.

Nodding all needily and fucked out, "Yes baby, yesyesyes," He gasps, abs tensing as your hand just would stop. You wouldn't let up on him for even a second and it was killing him, "F-Fuck I like it s'much-, I like you- love you," He corrects, struggling and stumbling over all his words, "Love your fuckin' hand-"

His jaw drops and the groan that leaves him comes from deep within his throat, "Ohmygoddd, fuck," Oh he was babbling for you, thoughts whirling, voice cracking and high pitched with you.

Then his lips quivered and that's when that noice came out. Such a cute, whiney, and filthily obscene whimper slipped out of his mouth, eyes at the back of his damn skull as he came all over your hand again.

And you had the nerve to talk him through it, whispering sweet, "That's it baby," To him and making him pant and his breathing stutter, your hand still going.

Choso couldn't formulate proper sentences with you anymore, barely chanting an almost silent I love you over and over until your hand stopped and his dick finally calmed down.

★ Ino Takuma

Is this even surprising?

Of course your cute boyfriend Ino is sensitive and affectionate starved. Sometimes he tries to act like your touch doesn't faze him but the very second it leaves him, he's giving you these doe-eyes and moving to put your hand back on him.

And it's just perfect for him that you enjoy touching him a lot. You're almost always hugging him or grabbing his face to pull him in for a kiss and he loves it.

So whenever you're away for a few hours, his body aches for you. You'd have your nails done too so that was something he enjoyed feeling more than ever, loving how your fingernails would run through his hair as he laid on your thighs or even in between them, face stuffed into your cunt.

Either way, Ino loved your touches and yes he craves it when you're not around.

So whenever the two of you do meet up, you're always running up to him, throwing your arms up and around his neck, laughing and smiling about how much you missed him.

Then you'd always tug that beanie off of his head, telling him how much you enjoy it when his hair is out and teasing him about looking silly with the accessory on.

He'd shrug off your comment and then as soon as you turn away from him, his arms are draping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder and crotch pressing into your ass.

Your body would freeze in place as you feel something familiarly hard poking at your ass, turning your head to your boyfriend who you've barely even touched so far and raising a brow at him, "Takuma..." You'd utter softly, earning a grin from him.

"Hm? Somethin' wrong?" He'd ask casually, as if there's not a painful boner in his pants all because you'd hugged him.

"You tell me," You tease, moving out of his hold and turning your body around to face your boyfriend as you cross your arms.

He quickly raises a hand to the back of his neck to scratch, chuckling nervously, "I'm not sure what y'want me to say?" He hums plauyfully.

You tilt your head and him and sigh before moving to point at his crotch, "How about you start with explaining that."

Ino's head drops to look at where you're pointing to, laughing as soon as he sees himself, "Oh, that. Yeah, no, that's uh, that's nothing, really-," His head lifts and you've gotten all close to him again, head angled upward slightly to meet his gaze and your stare making him swallow all his words down with a loud gulp.

Your hand then moves in almost slow motion and you place but a single finger to his chin, tipping his face down some more to get a good look at him and then smiling. "Y'know you can ask me to help you, right? I am your girlfriend, remember?" You whisper.

He starts nodding like he's hanging off of your words, eyes set on your lips and his breathing picked up just because you've got a finger on his chin. "M-Mhm, I uh," He blinks a few times to gather himself, "I know."

You smile and step even closer, your body just barely touching his, "Takuma," You whisper yet again, causing a shiver to slip down his spine.

He was so nervous because of you, "Lover," He hums back.

A chuckle slips past you, "Lover? That's cute."

"Y'like that one? I've been brainstormin' pet names recently," Ino tells you happily, his voice soft with you due to the lack of distance between you and him.

"Yeah, that one's cute," You whisper as your lips near his, "But uh, we're not just gonna skip past this," You emphasize as your hand palms at his erection, making his breath hitch.

Ino's brows tense and so does the rest of his body, "Y'gonna take care of it, baby?" He whispers to you, eyes softening at you as you peer up at him so tentatively.

"You want me to?" You utter back, batting your eyes at him and feeling on his cock through his clothing.

"Yeah," Ino nods out, to which you give him this look and he swallows, quick to correct himself, "Yes... please."

Smiling, "How do you want me to take care of it, hm? On my knees? With my hand?"

Ino barely knows how to even answer your question, it always makes him nervous when you take the lead, not that it doesn't happen often but most times anything sexual between you two just occurs mutually.

There's not always someone in the lead and it's usually just the two of you trying to make the other feel good. Which is enjoyable of course but when you're like this? Asking him what he wants and yet telling him what you're going to do through your gaze?

Oh he's almost the one on his knees for you.

Which is how you ended up later sitting behind your boyfriend, head peering over his shoulder and arms wrapped around him so that your pretty hands could work up and down his cock.

He hardly remembers how he got into this position with you or what he said for you to even want to do this but, here he was; face red, moans pouring out, hips bucking up into your touch, eyes lidded and struggling to keep up with watching the way your two hands groped and jerked at his cock perfectly.

Your fingers and his dick glistened with spit and precum, the sounds of you giving him the best handjob he could ever have asked for loud throughout the room.

"Oh baby," Ino whines out, eyes nearly shut as he tries his hardest not to squirm too much, "That feels so fuckin' good, holy shit."

"Yeah?" You smile, "My hands feel good?" The taunting behind your words made his cock throb in your hands, slim veins bulging against your palms and making you snicker.

Ino nods his head needly, "M-Mhmm, fuck-," He gasps, voice lagging behind as he tries his best to answer you properly.

You start kissing the side of his neck and he swears his head is spinning. He doesn't even know what to focus on at this point. Your hands on his cock? Your lips on the side of his neck? Your breasts pressed into his back?

It was all too much for him, making his knees bend just for his legs to extend out seconds later, his mouth just open with moans of your name and not-so-silent whines slipping out. Did he want it to go on forever or stop as soon as possible?

Fuck, and then there was you heavy breathing against him, almost as if you were aroused by this too-

Holy shit you were. You were probably soaked just because you're busy getting your boyfriend off using those pretty hands of yours. Ino's on cloud nine just thinking about how wet your cunt probably is, his moans getting louder and louder as second pass.

Up until he can't take it anymore and he moans your name, "B-Baby, fuck, needa' feel you, please."

"Hm?" You giggle softly, though it's noticeably more breathy than usual, "You are feelin' me though?" You point out as your hands tighten around his cock.

Ino's head rests back a bit and he pants, babbling out his desperations more clearly for you, "No baby, your pussy, come put it on me, please." He huffs out.

You cunt twitches at his words and you whisper his name, "Takuma...."

"Please?" Your boyfriend begs, gulping afterward to catch his breath for a moment, "J-Just... oh fuck, let me feel you, taste you, fuck you, anything baby, please?"

"Shit, okay, okay," Is the last thing you say before you too folded under pressure and moved.

Then you were on top of him, his eyes glossy as he watched you above him. Neither of you are sure which was more stimulating, you jerking him off or what you're doing now.

Which was rubbing nothing more than his tip against your slick hole, dragging him back and forth and back and forth in between your sopping folds. His tip was glazed in your arousal and his own, both of you moaning softly at the tease of it all.

It was somehow almost better than sex itself. You liked teasing him like this and he loved being teased. Ino was in a daze, trying his hardest not to cum at the sight of you forcing his needy cock against your pussy.

Your cunt looked so fucking delicious, so wet, so warm, he wanted to be inside you so bad and that's what was arousing him right now-- the temptation to just thrust his hips up into you and finally sink his inches deep inside you.

There was a light wet and sloppy sound that followed your languid movements, his cock slipping inside of you every now and then and making you practically start drooling for it.

It was taking everything in you not to just plop down and start bouncing on his cock like you normally would but when you looked at Ino's face and saw him panting and quietly whimpering-- you knew he was about to cum and you didn't want to stop.

Rocking your pussy over his tip over and over and over and over again until he was struggling to gasp for air, hissing out a cry of your name over and over, trying to warn you.

But instead of stopping, you whine, "C'mon, cum f'me," And then he is, and his cock is leaking in cum before he can even comprehend it, never realizing how sensitive his body was to you until now.

You always kinda knew he was sensitive and sure, you rubbing his cock against your pussy was pleasurable but it really surprised you how much he came from the action.

Smirking as he comes down from his high, you then lean to him and kiss him before whispering, "Good boy," To which his jaw drops a bit and you're angling his cock to slip inside you, "Now, hurry up 'nd please your girlfriend," You huff out.

And he's nodding without a second thought, "Yes ma'am-, fuck, whatever you want, pretty girl."

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heathermason6060 · 2 months ago

Text

Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @jinx-nanami

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plumso · 5 months ago

Text

pure heart (theo x reader)

pairing: theodore nott x reader warning: obsessiveness, possessiveness summary: y/n found theo’s journal. now, she doesn’t know how to act around him. masterlist song recommendation: sweet by cigarettes after sex I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

The days have been bleak for Y/N — nothing exciting, nothing new.

Obsessively self-conscious, she has limited herself. She rarely attends social events and avoids any interaction with men. She fidgets in her clothes, she avoids cameras, she overthinks everything she says - it has become too exhausting. She had given up. Now, she finds everything tedious and dull.

Until she found his journal.

Sept. 4 XXXX She looks so beautiful today. I wonder if that’s her perfume, or maybe that’s her natural scent. I wonder if her skin is usually warm or cold. I want to touch her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 7 XXXX She laughed with some guy. I hate her. She’s too oblivious around men. But she’s too cute. I could never hate her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 8 XXXX She looks so peaceful when she reads. Haha! She accidentally fell asleep for a bit. I love her so much. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 11 XXXX That guy came up to her again. Fuck him. She looks annoyed. Oh, she ignored him. Good girl. Y/N Nott.

Y/N gasped and shut the journal. Goosebumps were all over her arms, her breath was shaky. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and there was this tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. It’s as if lightning shot through her, awakening every nerve in her body. After months of feeling down and exhausted, she felt truly alive.

But Y/N tried to shake off her conflicting feelings. Despite it seeming like the sweet ramblings of a boy with a crush, some were greatly disturbing. Who could have written this?

She had found the black leather journal left on a windowsill in a hall rarely passed. She looked around, thinking the owner was nearby, but no one was in sight.

Y/N then flipped through the journal. Pages and pages were all about her with each ending off with “Y/N Nott.”

‘Nott?’ Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering why it sounded so familiar. ‘Theodore Nott?’

Y/N shook her head. She refused to believe that this journal was from Theo, one of the most notorious Slytherin boys of her year. He’s always so quiet and emotionless. The only interaction she had with him was from a few years ago, but it was so insignificant that it could barely be considered a real interaction.

‘There’s no way that he could have written this,’ she thought. 'But I can’t leave this here. If anybody else sees this, they would think I wrote this about myself.’

After much deliberation, Y/N stuffed the journal in her school bag and headed for her dorm where she spent the rest of the night reading each entry.

***

The next day, Y/N woke up in a daze. With three hours of sleep, Y/N got through only half of the journal. There were many, many entries with the earliest dating back to two years ago, each entry became increasingly obsessive.

Throughout the day, Y/N felt foggy and her face was a bit flushed. She would only snap out of her daze when she became aware of Theo’s presence.

Theo was in all of her classes and he sat only a few seats away from her. Y/N never thought of it much before, but now, she found it strange considering she only has one or two classes with her friends.

During class, she would keep her head down and slightly tilt her head so she could take a peek at Theo. He looked the same as always - emotionless and cold. Could someone like him write such strange and emotional entries?

Y/N considered talking to Theo to see if the journal was his. Maybe test him by asking if he lost something recently. But she was unsure if she wanted to confirm it. She didn’t know if she could face the owner’s strong, overwhelming feelings. And she was somewhat scared of what could happen next.

A few days had passed, and Y/N was becoming worried that the owner YYwill soon approach her. But she couldn’t let go of the journal yet. She was a madman obsessed. In many of the entries, the owner of the journal would describe what Y/N wore. What she ate for breakfast. Who she talked to. Some entries seemed like sweet love poems while some showed stalker tendencies.

Y/N was conflicted. She knows how deranged and disillusioned the owner was. She was scared, yes, but she also felt excited. As she continued to read, all his strange ramblings were starting to sound sweet. She didn’t know if she should be creeped out or flattered.

But Y/N knew that her time with the journal needed to end. She knew the owner was looking for their journal. She would sometimes feel goosebumps on her back as if someone was staring at her. When this happened, she would hurriedly leave the room. She thought of placing it back where she found it, but she needed to finish reading the journal first.

So, one night, Y/N went to the back of the library and made sure no one was around. She sat on the oak chair and took the journal from her bag. She then flipped to the first page. The ink was a bit smudged and the paper was a bit worn, but it had the same neat handwriting that she became familiar with.

Dec. 3 XXXX Went to Hogsmeade today, but I left the boys. I didn’t feel like socializing today. Headed to Hog’s Head to read for a bit. I assumed no one would be there, but I was wrong. That quiet girl Y/N was there. She was reading, too. Whatever, I’m sitting far anyways.

Dec. 4 XXXX How come I’ve never talked to her before? She is so beautiful. So sweet. What book was she reading? I’ll have to find it in the library when she’s done with it. Does she know who I am? I should talk to her. No, I don’t want her to be creeped out. I’ll find a better way to talk to her. I think I’m falling for her. Y/N L/N Nott.

Y/N was incredibly confused. What happened that could have caused such a big change? She doesn’t even remember going to Hog’s Head, much less what she did that day.

Y/N furrowed her brows as she thought hard about her trips to Hogsmeade in the last two years. ‘I have been to the Hog’s Head before… but I don’t remember anything spe-

“So, you had it.”

A dark, low voice spoke behind her. Y/N jumped in her seat, goosebumps all over her skin. Just by their voice, Y/N felt shivers run through her back and that tingling sensation in her stomach.

But Y/N couldn’t move. She was frozen, too anxious to turn around and confront him. But she knew who it was. His voice was one she knows all too well.

Suddenly, Y/N felt his warm body lightly pressed on her back. He was now standing behind her. He then slightly bent over her as he flipped through the pages of his journal.

“Here,” he said as he stopped to a certain page. “Read this.”

Confused, Y/N slowly looked up, only to be met with a smiling Theo.

“Come on. Read it for me. Please.”

Y/N reluctantly nodded. “February 14 XXXX. Some boys left candy on her table. Bunch of idiots. I threw it all away. I wanted her to only have mine. It’s mint chocolate, her favorite. I know everything that she likes. I-I’m the only one who can treat her right…” Y/N trailed off, unsure if she should say the next part.

“Continue.”

“S-she’s mine. I love her so much. She’ll see that one day. Y/N Nott.” Y/N’s breath was shaky and her mind was becoming a bit foggy. She knew this situation wasn’t normal. He’s too calm. Too scary. But for some reason, she was filled with anticipation.

“You were the one who gave me the mint chocolate?” Y/N asked, looking back up at Theo.

He nodded.

“And… you wrote this journal?”

He smiled.

“I was searching everywhere for the journal. My name isn’t on it, so I wasn’t worried about getting caught. But… I didn’t want any more attention on you,” Theo said as took the seat next to her. “But then you started acting strange. You would get nervous around me. It was so cute.” He chuckled and the tingling sensation in Y/N’s stomach grew more prominent.

“I’m glad you found it,” Theo said as he gently took Y/N’s hand. “Now you know how much I love you. How much I think about you.”

Y/N’s mind was going haywire. She didn’t know what to think or what to say. Goosebumps were still all over her skin, but she could only focus on his sweet words and warm hands.

“Y/N…” he trailed as he leaned closer to her. He placed her palm on his chest, purposely trying to make her feel his heartbeat. It was racing fast. “I couldn’t ask you on Valentines, but… will you be mine?”

When Y/N read through his journal, she knew he was dangerous. His feelings were too strong, too overwhelming. He was obsessive and possessive. She was anxious about what would happen if she reciprocated.

But as she looked at Theo’s handsome face with her palm on his broad chest, she felt seen and alive. His love, his sincerity - it’s hard to believe it’s all real. And it’s too intoxicating to deny.

“Y-yes. I want to be yours."

*** bonus: hog’s head interaction ***

December 3, XXXX

“Welcome!” The shopkeeper of Hog’s Head yelled as he filled up a cup of juice from behind the counter.

Theo scrapped the snow off his shoes before entering, unwrapping the scarf around his neck. “Black coffee, please,” Theo said before walking to the table farthest from the other customer.

Theo then rummages through his bag, taking out a book and his new leather journal. He received it from a teacher who recommended writing entries of gratitude or special moments. After putting it off for months, he finally set a goal for himself to write the first entry today.

As Theo wrote his first entry, the shopkeeper placed the black coffee on the table. He then went back to refill the other customer’s cup. Theo took a sip and observed the small figure of the other customer. She looked familiar.

The other customer looked up from her book to thank the shopkeeper. She set her book down and slightly stretched her back before taking a sip of her juice. She looks around the building before spotting Theo. She jumped a little, startled to see someone else there. She was too caught up in her book to notice her surroundings. She quickly composed herself before giving him a warm smile. She then turned back around and continued with her book.

In that short moment, Theo was hooked. When she smiled, something within him suddenly clicked. As if he was now complete. Something within him changed, his desires growing and morphing.

‘Y/N… what was her last name again? Ah, L/N. Y/N L/N. No… Y/N Nott.’

***

a/n: i do not condone stalking or extreme possessiveness. this is entirely unrealistic and fiction. however, it is nice to imagine that a handsome man is so in love with you that he's obsessed lol. i also named this "pure heart" for irony because he views his feelings as pure, but is it really?? also, for those into smut, you can definitely imagine this leading to an s x m dynamic, so it makes the title even more funny lol. anywho, hope you enjoyed it!

here is part two for more <3

#theo x reader #theo #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #slytherin #harry potter x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys

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tbaluver · 5 months ago

Note

May I request the LaD boys reactions to you sending them a video of you playing with yourself while they're away?

Sending Them A Dirty Video When Their Away- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x fem!Reader, Zayne x fem!Reader, Rafayel x fem!Reader, Sylus x fem! Reader genre: MDNI, 18+, suggestive content, masturbation ( all ) , facetime sex ( Rafayel ) a/n: hi anonnie! i hope this was okay and that you enjoy reading! i'm suppose to be doing a quiz and studying right now but i wanted to finish writing this hehe any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He was so lucky to be split from his team during his mission when you sent him a video. He thought it would be you winning another plushie at a claw machine but he was so so wrong. It was so much better than that. His teeth sank down into his lips as he watched you stroke yourself with one hand as your other grabbed your breasts. He feels like he could cum right now, his cheeks a dark shade of pink as he watches your video on repeat.

𖠌: ( ´ཀ` )

𖠌: not fair angel

He sends that as he fights the urge to relieve the tension in his pants. He makes sure to check his surroundings that nobody was nearby before pulling out his throbbing cock, slowly stroking it while he holds his phone with his other hand.

“n-need to hear you angel, please”

He breathes heavily into his voice message that he sent you, speaking as softly as he can to avoid being caught. You call him immediately after he sends that, your sultry tone invading his ears, “cum for me my sweet boy” Multiple images of you invade his mind. Images of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock and your pretty eyes looking up at him like he’s the most important person in the world. How he swirled his tongue around one of your buds as he pinched your other nipples, rolling them around between his pointer finger and his thumb. He bucks his hips into his fist, spilling warm white trails down his length.

𖠌: i’ll make this mission quick

𖠌: need to see you

Zayne:

Zayne was away for a couple days for another research project and you missed him so much.

You’d send him a video, angling to show you wearing his favorite lingerie, slowly remove the thin clothing to tease him. You’d cup your breasts and roll your sensitive nipples between your fingers, your eyes fluttering shut as your mouth slowly starts to part.

When Zayne glanced down at his phone and saw the notification of a video from you, he immediately knew you were up to something mischievous. He had to excuse him and retreat back to his room to watch the video you sent. He’d suck in his breath and just groan at the sight, wishing and wanting to fuck you senseless.

☃︎: must you always do this to me when i’m away?

You’d send him another video, alone and naked in that big empty bed. His eyes tracked every movement of your body on his phone. One hand gripping his phone as he closely examines how your hand slipped in between your legs. How you whined for him and how much you missed him.

His jaw clenches, springing his stiff cock free as he replayed the video over and over again. He starts to pump his cock slowly, wanting to be inside of your tight and soaking cunt so bad. Zayne’s mind only clouds with how much you’d cream around his cock or how your mouth or hands feel so much better than his hands. You're the only thing on his mind as he watches the video on repeat. Your fingers pulsing in and out of your pussy, becoming wetter from your own arousal. He imagines it's your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him.

“h-hah-” He throws his head back against the seat as he fists his cock harder, tightening the grip until thick streaks of his cum leak out of him. He raises the phone and sends you a quick photo of the mess you caused.

☃︎: don’t think that i don’t miss you too.

☃︎: when we reunite, i’ll gladly help you get off.

Rafayel:

You’re so mean for sending him a video when he was out for an art exhibition tour in a different country. Anytime you two were apart, he was always needy and seeing a couple seconds of your video with your legs spread wide open and two fingers sinking in and out of your cunt and whining his name, made him almost whine on the spot.

𓆟: ( ｡ • ᴖ • ｡) you’re so mean to me

𓆟: gimme one sec cutie

He would try to find a way to slip out of the art exhibition and find himself back into his hotel room that was nearby. He’d put his phone on mute so Thomas doesn’t bother spam calling or texting him.

𓆟: you know i can’t do this, i need you

He facetime called you in less than a minute before he sent that message

He moves to prop the camera up so you can see the full view of him unbuttoning his top slowly, teasing you as he exposes his muscular chest. He then reaches for the buttons on his pants before hooking his fingers into his waistband and lifting his waist to pull it down. His cock springs free and hits against his lower abdomen, his eyes locking in on you. You can’t help but let your eyes wander down his muscles, lingering at the bulge until it was fully released from his trousers. His smirks in amusement to see your mouth parted open hungrily and needy just at the sight of him.

“You should close your mouth cutie, you might catch some flies in there.”

You both adjust the camera angles to ensure you both have a complete view of one another before beginning

Gently you rub circles over your clit, trying to mimic how he would with his pretty fingers. It drives you mad, making you bite your lips as you moan his name loudly. You drag out his name, your pussy desperately trying to clench onto something as you reel your head back in pleasure. Increasing the speed until you start to match the sound of his fist pumping his cock over the phone.

“want you soso bad” He whines, pumping faster with the sounds of your cunt squelching in the background makes him throb. “cum with me raf” your sultry voice drove him mad, cursing under his breath as he felt his seed leaking from his tip. He knows you’re close as gasps escape your mouth and how he watches the coil in your stomach snap, gushing your juices around your fingers. “‘s pretty. can’t wait to come home and fill that pretty hole.”

Sylus:

Sylus was away for an important auction. Despite it being important, nothing truly captivated him, his thoughts were solely on coming back home to you. His eyebrows quirked in amusement when he saw a notification of a video you had sent him. He excused himself letting Luke and Kieran handle the matters in their own hands as he made his way back upstairs in his hotel room.

𓅪: showing me what i’m missing princess?

He smirks once he opens your video, arousal washing over him, entertained by seeing the angle of your perky tits bouncing and his favorite pussy that was sobbing and clenching just for him. The way you moaned and panted just for him was music to his ears.

Before you could send him another video, he was already quick to reply with one of his own.

“Is this what you expected, princess?”

He flashes a smirk to the camera before lowering it to show his shirt slightly lifted to give you a glimpse of his sculpted abs and his long fingers wrapped around his cock, his tip crimson as he slowly strokes it. Small groans flutter through his lips when he fists over the tip.

“all just for you princess.”

He says in the video, pre-cum dripping down his length and his muscles flexing on his stomach from the perfect angle he had. Your fingers were so deep into you, pounding relentlessly into your pussy. You replay the video again and again, watching him stroke his cock harder and you can taste your sweet release. Once you feel the heat pooling to your throbbing cunt, you make sure to send it to him. This time instead of a video, he sends a voice message, “did my princess cum thinking about me? i wish you were here, i need my pretty girl.”

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

honeymoon — gojo satoru.

He grins. “We’ll see!” he replies, leaning closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “Now, how about we start this honeymoon properly? I was thinking of a little walk along the Seine, maybe a café stop or two……” You nod, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you. “That sounds perfect.” “But seriously, wifey. Let them be annoyed back at home.” he shrugged when you expressed concern over the complaints he might face. “They’ve been annoyed with me my whole life. I’d rather have them grumbling than miss out on this with you. I mean, it's been years! Couldn’t they just let us live?”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, smut, making out, body praise, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, oral (male and female receiving), pet names (baby, wifey....), love, humor, light-hearted, married life, being in love, sexual intercourse, intoxication, partying, slice of life, domestic life, family, honeymoon, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of alcohol consumption, depiction of being drunk, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of being drunk, mention of alcoholic consumption, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! satoru, wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.5k words

NOTE: when i was plotting, i really thought about how i never made an explicit thing for us and them, so this is an extension of this along with my other things. i also included the end, because it was just something i think about. how would satoru gojo explain to his child how he was made? anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!! i love you <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip!

══════════════════

THIS WAS A LOT, EVEN FOR HIM. Two years of marriage, and you were finally going on a honeymoon. It was a journey that had been delayed for so long, almost forgotten amid the chaos of life and the expectations that weighed heavily on Gojo Satoru as the clan leader.

From the beginning, Satoru had refused to follow the traditional expectations—refused to parade you like some prize on display for the men in the clan. On your wedding night, instead of the grand celebrations and rituals everyone had expected, there had been a quiet understanding between the two of you.

Back then, you and Satoru were far from being romantically inclined. The marriage had been more of an alliance, an arrangement to fulfill the duties both of you bore. He hadn’t wanted to make you uncomfortable, and you had appreciated his consideration, even if it left a lingering sense of uncertainty between you.

But time had worked its magic, slowly and subtly. You had grown closer, finding comfort and familiarity in each other's presence. The first kiss had been tentative, almost accidental, but it had opened the door to something more profound. Each kiss after that became less about caution and more about the quiet desire that had started to blossom between you.

Now, you stood together at the threshold of something new. You had been the one to bring it up, gently, cautiously. You told him you were ready for the next step, ready to explore the possibilities that had once seemed so distant. Satoru had listened, his usual playful demeanor tempered by something more serious, more uncertain.

For all his bravado and confidence, you could see the nervousness in his eyes, the slight hesitation that had become rare in the man who seemed unshakable. This was new for him too, a path neither of you had walked before, and the weight of it was not lost on him.

As you packed for the trip, you could feel the unspoken tension between you both, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Satoru hovered nearby, throwing casual remarks your way, but there was an edge to his voice that you couldn’t ignore.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he finally asked, his gaze intense as he watched you carefully fold the last of your clothes into the suitcase.

You met his eyes, seeing the vulnerability he rarely showed. “I’m sure, you know?” you said, your voice steady. “But we don’t have to rush anything. We’ll take it at our own pace.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You always know how to keep me grounded,” he said, his tone lightening.

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “We’ll be okay, Satoru,” you reassured him. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

He reached out, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Yeah, we have.” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with you.”

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by the quiet confidence that whatever came next, you would face it together. This trip, this honeymoon, was just another step in a journey that was uniquely yours, one that you were ready to take with him by your side.

The morning of the trip arrives with a quiet hum of excitement and a nervous energy that fills the air. Satoru, always so composed, is now anything but. He paces the living room, hands running through his snowy white hair, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed by a deep-seated anxiety. For once, the great Satoru Gojo—the man who could face curses and calamity without a flicker of fear seems utterly and completely lost.

“What if I mess this up?” he mutters to himself, barely noticing the presence of Megumi, Tsumiki, and your mother as they watch him from the doorway. “What if she realizes this was a mistake? What if I just do the worst and I—”

Your mother steps forward first, her soft, reassuring voice cutting through his frantic rambling. “Satoru,” she says gently, a calm smile on her lips. “You need to breathe. You’re going to be fine.”

He glances at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and confusion. “But… What if I’m not? What if I do something wrong? What if—”

Megumi, who had been quietly observing from the side, sighs and steps closer. “You’re overthinking again, it’s really annoying.” he says, his tone blunt but not unkind. “She chose you, Gojo–san. And she’s still here. That’s not going to change just because you’re nervous about this trip.”

Satoru pauses, considering the words, his brow furrowed. “But what if—”

“Gojo–san.” Tsumiki interrupts, her voice softer than Megumi’s but just as firm. “You love her, right?”

He blinks, as if the question is absurd. “Of course I do!” he answers immediately, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “I love her more than anything.”

“Then trust her.” Tsumiki says simply, with her beaming smile. “Trust that she loves you too. Trust that she understands.”

Your mother nods, her hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. “She knows you, Satoru. She knows your flaws, your strengths… and she loves you anyway. Just be yourself. That’s all she wants.”

Satoru takes a deep breath, his shoulders still tense but beginning to relax under their calming words. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up, you know?” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t want to lose her. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Megumi, always the quiet anchor in the storm that was Satoru’s life, steps even closer. “You won’t.” he says with quiet certainty. “You’re both figuring this out together. It’s okay to be nervous, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying this. She wants to see you happy, Gojo–san. And I think… you need to see that too.”

Satoru nods slowly, his breath evening out as he absorbs their words. He straightens up, his usual confidence creeping back into his posture, but now tempered with something softer, more genuine.

“Okay….okay.” he murmurs, a small smile forming. “Okay. I can do this.”

Your mother squeezes his arm one last time, her smile warm and encouraging. “You already are, Satoru. Now go! The two of you need to make some great memories. And don’t forget to have fun.”

He laughs, a little shakily, but it’s a real laugh, the kind that lights up his face. “Yeah, fun… I think I remember how to do that, mother!” he teases, and they all chuckle.

As they head back to their respective rooms in the house, Gojo Satoru stands alone for a moment, taking a deep breath. He feels lighter, as if a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

The anxiety is still there, but it’s manageable now, a small flutter in his chest rather than a crushing force. He loves you too much to let fear get in the way. He loves you enough to take this step, to trust in the bond you’ve built together, one small moment at a time.

When he finally comes to find you, finally ready and dressed for the airport. He couldn’t help but just stare. You were so beautiful. And you chose him, to love him like this and bless him with beauty like this. Somehow, there’s a new steadiness in his gaze, a renewed sense of purpose. He reaches for your hand, his grip firm but gentle, and you can feel the resolve in his touch. You smiled at him, squeezing back.

“I’m ready to go.” he says softly, his blue eyes searching for yours. “Ready to do this, with you.”

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “Then let’s go, Satoru. Let’s make this ours.”

And with that, you both step forward—toward whatever the future holds, side by side, ready to face it together.

══════════════════

IT WAS A LONG FLIGHT, AND HE COULDN’T SLEEP. The plane touched down in the city of Paris, the city bathed in the soft light of an early evening. Gojo Satoru’s firm fingers remain intertwined with yours as you both step out into the bustling airport, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture that has become second nature to him.

He’s still a little on edge, that was certain. You can tell from the way his eyes dart around, the smallest twitch of his lips betraying his usual calm. But he’s here, and that matters more than anything.

He had taken time off, a long time, much to the frustration of the higher-ups and the clan elders who had protested and argued about duty and obligations. Yet Satoru had been unyielding, for once using his influence not for some mission or jujutsu-related endeavor, but for something that mattered far more to him—you.

Satoru seems more relaxed now, leaning back in the seat, one arm casually draped over your shoulders. “I still can’t believe I managed to take this much time off.” he muses aloud, a small smile on his lips. “I think they’re having a meltdown back at the school. But, honestly? Worth it.”

You chuckle. “Are you going to get in trouble for this?” you ask, a little worried despite yourself.

He snorts. “Let them try,” he says with a wink. “They can’t exactly do much to the strongest sorcerer in the world, can they?”

His arrogance, though familiar, is softened by the way he looks at you, his gaze filled with an affection that makes your cheeks warm. “Besides, wifey….” he continues. “If it means I get to see you smile like that, I’d take a whole year off.”

You shake your head, amused. “That might be a bit much, even for you, Satoru.”

You nod, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you. “That sounds perfect.”

“But seriously, wifey. Let them be annoyed back at home.” he shrugged when you expressed concern over the complaints he might face. “They’ve been annoyed with me my whole life. I’d rather have them grumbling than miss out on this with you. I mean, it's been years! Couldn’t they just let us live?”

Nothing more was talked about after that. He was right, if he was being honest. You two have been married for a while now and Gojo Satoru never really took any holidays unless you guys needed him for important school dates or to spend time with you on the weekends. And you supposed you understood, because you were like that too before you took a long break from being a Jujutsu sorcerer.

Now you supposed, your husband Satoru seems lighter, his usual goofy, excited smile finally returning. You liked him like this, you think. Even then when you first met him, he had a really nice smile. And you wanted to keep him this way. Smiling and happy. Because he looked the most beautiful like that.

“So, wifey…..” he says, glancing over at you with a playful gleam in his bright blue eyes. “Where to first, madame Gojo? The Seine or the cafe?”

The way he says it, with a comically exaggerated French accent, makes you laugh joyously. “You’ve really been practicing, mon amour?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He laughs, the sound bright and carefree. “I’ve been preparing as always!” he corrects, “Wouldn’t it make it the perfect trip if it was hassle free by speaking French? Of course, only the best for my beloved, after all.”

His words carried a mixture of sincerity and that playful confidence you had grown so fond of, causing your heart to skip a beat. The joy that shimmered in his eyes was contagious, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. With a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned into the moment.

“Then let’s enjoy a walk to the Seine river and then go to the café,” you said softly.

“Oh? That sounds like a plan!” Satoru responded with his signature energy, his grin wide and carefree.

As the two of you ventured out into the crisp evening air, the world seemed to blur into the background. His hand held yours firmly, fingers intertwined as if they’d always belonged there. Every step along the Seine felt like something out of a dream.

The golden lights of Paris danced on the water’s surface, flickering like they were playing just for you. You caught Satoru sneaking glances at the city around him—his eyes bright and full of wonder as he took in the reflection of lights on the river, the charming hum of the city enveloping you both.

What captivated him the most, though, wasn’t the sights of Paris, but you. You felt his gaze linger every time you smiled at the simple things: a street musician playing a gentle tune, the comforting scent of pastries that filled the air. He marveled at the joy you found in these little moments, and somehow, you felt even more connected to him. With each passing second, it was like you were experiencing the city together, seeing it through each other's eyes.

There were no words needed. Satoru’s presence—steady, warm—was more than enough. As you walked, it felt as though time had paused, and all that existed was the quiet beauty of the night, the sound of your footsteps, and the feeling of his hand in yours.

As the night wears on, your husband insists on buying you a flower from a street vendor, presenting it to you with a flourish and an exaggerated bow that makes you laugh. You catch him watching you more than he watches the sights, his eyes full of a softness that you’ve rarely seen before, as if he’s trying to memorize every moment, every expression on your face.

Later, you find a small café tucked away on a quiet street. Your lovely Satoru orders in perfect French, much to the amusement of the waiter. You think that the Frenchman was delighted at the thought of someone speaking the language, but the accent you supposed was still not enough. Still, you think his pretty face made him more endearing.

The two of you sit outside to enjoy the lovely glow of the streetlights, sharing a dessert and sipping on your drinks, your chairs pulled close together. You got an espresso and your husband got a really sweet iced caramel macchiato, with a pain au chocolat and a chocolate cake on the side.

“I’ve never seen you this relaxed, you know?” you comment softly, noticing the way his shoulders have finally lost their tension.

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “I’ve never had a reason to be either, well…not until recently. Especially with you.” he admits. “Being with you… it makes everything else seem less important.”

You reach out, placing your hand over his. “Thank you for this, Satoru.” you say quietly. “For taking this time. For making me feel like I’m worth all of it.”

He turns his hand over, squeezing yours. “You’re worth more than that, wifey.” he replies, his voice low and earnest. “You’re worth everything to me.”

For a moment, the world seems to slow, and it’s just the two of you, sitting together in a little café in Paris, a city full of life and love. The future seems bright, and the worries of the past fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being here, together.

As the night grows deeper, Satoru leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re happy?” he asks softly, as if seeking reassurance.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” you whisper back.

His smile widens, his eyes sparkling with relief and joy. “Good.” he murmurs. “Because I plan to keep you that way, no matter what.”

And in that moment, under the Parisian sky, you know he means every word.

The days in Paris begin to blur together, a soft blend of golden light, laughter, and the endless discovery of each other in a new place. You wake each morning to the sound of Satoru's humming, his voice light and carefree as he attempts a tune he’s probably heard in some old movie. He looks so at peace here, his usual edges softened, a smile almost always playing on his lips.

Your first full day is filled with exploration. You both decide to take things slow, meandering through the narrow streets, Satoru’s hand warm in yours. He insists on trying every pastry you come across, from croissants to pain au chocolat, and he buys them in excess, delighting in your shared bites and the way your face lights up with every taste.

At some point, you find yourselves at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, the iconic structure towering above you. Satoru looks up, his sunglasses perched on his nose, shielding his eyes from the midday sun. “So, do we do the tourist thing?” he asks, grinning.

You laugh, nodding. “Why not? We’re here, aren’t we?”

He pulls you along, his excitement infectious as you both make your way to the elevator. The ride up is filled with a mix of awe and a little bit of playful bickering. Satoru teases you about your slight fear of heights, and you mock him for pretending to be calm when you can feel the tension in his grip on the rail.

At the top, the view is breathtaking. Paris stretches out beneath you like a painting—rooftops, winding streets, the Seine glittering in the distance. Satoru stands behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Look….” he murmurs in your ear. “All of this… and you’re still the best thing I’ve seen today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re so cheesy, Satoru.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against your neck. “Only for you.”

As you gaze out at the city, you feel his heart beating against your back, steady and strong. It’s moments like this that make you realize just how far you’ve come with him—from the careful, tentative steps of your early marriage to the unspoken trust and affection that now bloom between you. The nervousness that lingered in both of you is slowly fading, replaced by something deeper, something real.

Later, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you find yourselves wandering into a small park. The air is cooler, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. Satoru pulls you toward a bench, sitting down and tugging you onto his lap. He’s always been tactile, always needed that physical connection, and you’ve come to find comfort in it too.

He looks up at you, his blue eyes softening in the fading light. “You know,” he starts, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, curious. “That’s new for you.”

He laughs, his chest rumbling beneath you. “Ha-ha. Very funny.” he quips, but there’s a fondness in his voice. “No, really. I’ve been thinking about how… how different everything feels now. How much I want this… us, to be real. Not just an arrangement or a convenience.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest. “It already is real, Satoru.” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He nods, his expression earnest. “I know. But I want more. I want… all of you. Your happiness, your worries, your dreams… everything. I want you to know that I’m here. Fully, completely.”

For a moment, you’re lost in his gaze, the sincerity in his words sinking in. “I do know, you know?” you say softly. “And I’m here too. I’ve always been.”

He smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart swell. “Good.” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Because I’ve got big plans for us, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what kind of plans might those be?”

He grins, that playful light back in his eyes. “Well, I was thinking… maybe a little house somewhere quiet, where we can have lazy mornings and late nights, and I can spend every day annoying you with my presence. Lots of space for Tsumiki and Megumi. For….for more kids, maybe.”

You laugh, the sound bright and free. “Sounds like a dream.” you tease.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “It is, isn’t it?” he whispers against your mouth. “My dream. Our dream.”

And as you sit there, wrapped in his arms under the soft glow of the Parisian twilight, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, knowing that no matter what comes next, you’ll face it together, with love and laughter and all the beautiful, messy moments in between.

══════════════════

BEFORE LONG, THEY WERE INTO THE FUN. The night falls deeper, and you find yourselves in a cozy, dimly lit jazz bar on the quieter side of the city. The music is soft and sultry, a saxophone weaving its way through the smoky air. You’ve already had a few drinks, and while you’re feeling pleasantly light, Satoru—who rarely drinks at all—has decided tonight is an exception.

He raises his glass, clinking it gently against yours, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “To us!” he toasts, his voice already carrying that playful slur that makes your heart flutter.

“To us!” you echo, and take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

The band starts up a livelier tune, something with a beat that makes your foot tap against the floor. Satoru grins, setting down his glass with a flourish. “Come on, wifey!” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you up,.“Get up! Come on, let’s dance.”

You laugh, a little unsteady on your feet, but you let him lead you to the small, crowded dance floor. He spins you around with a dramatic flair, earning a few amused glances from the other patrons, but you don’t care. Tonight, it’s just the two of you, and the rest of the world feels miles away.

Satoru moves with an unexpected grace, his movements loose and free. He’s not a bad dancer—in fact, he’s surprisingly good, his body swaying in rhythm with the music. You let yourself be pulled close, your hands resting on his shoulders as he guides you through the steps, his laughter bright and infectious.

“You’re actually good at this, Satoru.” you tease, your head spinning slightly, not just from the drinks but from the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I have many hidden talents, always!” he whispers, his tone low and teasing. “But this, wifey….” he continues, his hands sliding down to rest at the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “This is my favorite one.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, and Satoru’s grin widens. The two of you continue dancing, moving in sync, the music carrying you along, your bodies pressed close, swaying with the rhythm. The alcohol has made you both bolder, and you feel his hands tighten on your waist, his touch firm yet gentle.

Your heart races as his face draws closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You know, wifey….” he murmurs, his voice low, “I don’t usually do this—drinking and dancing like an idiot.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know you don’t.” you reply softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “But I’m glad you’re doing it with me.”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Me too.”

And then, without warning, he leans in and kisses you—a deep, lingering kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. His mouth is warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget where you are, lost in the sensation of his lips, his hands, the way he’s pulling you closer as if he never wants to let go.

You kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he groans softly, his grip on you tightening. The world around you blurs, and it’s just the two of you, kissing like you’re the only people in the universe. His hands slide up your back, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending sparks of electricity shooting through you.

“God, you taste good,” he mutters against your mouth, his voice husky, and you feel a surge of heat pool in your stomach. You press yourself closer to him, your body molding against his, and his breath hitches, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

“Satoru, baby.” you whisper, your voice breathy, and he kisses you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your back, his touch growing bolder with every passing second. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath hot and fast, and your own pulse quickens in response.

“Let’s get out of here, wifey.” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark with desire.

You nod, your breath coming in short, excited bursts. “Yeah….let’s go.” you whisper back, feeling the same burning need coursing through you.

He grabs your hand, his grip firm and steady, and you both make a quick exit from the bar, laughter bubbling between you as you stumble into the cool night air. The streets of Paris are quiet now, the city settling into the late hours, but you hardly notice or rather, you could scarcely care. You were too far gone in cloud nine to care.

Your husband Satoru pulls you close again, his lips finding yours with a renewed intensity, and you’re lost in him once more, the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

You barely make it back to the hotel, your kisses growing more heated, more desperate, with each step. By the time you reach your room, Satoru’s hands are tangled in your hair, his lips moving down your neck, and you’re breathless with want, your fingers tugging at his shirt.

He fumbles with the key, cursing under his breath, and you laugh, breathless, helping him steady his hands. When the door finally swings open, he pulls you inside, kicking it shut behind you, and his mouth is on yours again, hot and demanding.

You push him back against the wall, your hands roaming his chest, and he lets out a low, pleased hum, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, sliding up your sides, making you shiver. “I’ve wanted this, wifey.” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “ I just wanted you so bad… for so long.”

Your response is a quiet moan as his lips find yours again, his hands pulling you even closer, and you know, in this moment, that this is exactly where you want to be—wrapped up in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against yours, letting the world outside fade away until it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, in Paris, under the spell of the night.

The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and the air is thick with the heat of your bodies. Satoru’s breath comes out in ragged gasps, his head thrown back against the pillows, his hair splayed out in a mess of white strands. He grips the sheets beneath him tightly, his knuckles white with the force, and his chest rises and falls with every sharp inhale.

“God……..” he groans, voice low and breathless, the sound of it echoing in the small space. His eyes are half-lidded, darkened with lust, but there’s a softness there too, a look of wonder as he gazes down at you.

You move against him with purpose, your mouth warm and soft, sliding up and down his length with a rhythm that has his hips bucking up slightly, desperate for more. Your tongue swirls around him, and he gasps, the sound breaking into a quiet moan, his hands reaching for you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“Feels so good, wifey.” he slurs, his voice thick and heavy with pleasure. “Fuck… you’re so perfect.” He can barely keep his eyes open, his head rolling back against the pillow, his body taut with tension, the pleasure building in waves that crash over him again and again.

You hum softly, the vibration sending a shiver through him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh, right there….” he gasps, his voice breaking. “Don’t… don’t stop.”

You don’t. You keep going, moving with a deliberate slowness that has him trembling beneath you, his entire body responding to every flick of your tongue, every gentle scrape of your teeth. He’s never felt like this—so completely undone, so out of control. And yet he’s never felt more alive, more connected, more in love than he does right now, with you.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, and he looks at you, his eyes searching yours. “I—” he starts, but his voice catches, and he swallows hard, trying to steady himself. “I love you, baby.” he whispers, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he can’t keep them in any longer.

You pause for just a second, your eyes meeting his, and the intensity of his gaze takes your breath away. There’s so much there—desire, adoration, fear, and a kind of raw, aching need that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

Then you smile, just a little, your lips curling around him, and you take him in deeper, drawing a ragged moan from his throat. He bucks up again, his grip on the sheets tightening as he feels that familiar coil of heat tightening in his stomach, building and building with every movement, every sensation.

“Ah… I can’t—” he chokes out, his breath hitching, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”

And then he’s gone, his head tipping back, a guttural moan tearing from his lips as he comes undone, the pleasure crashing over him in a wave so intense he feels like he might just shatter. His whole body tenses, his hips jerking up as he spills into your mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as the world blurs around him.

For a moment, everything is silent, save for the sound of his heavy breathing, his chest heaving with the effort. He feels like he’s floating, his body weightless, his mind blank except for the overwhelming sensation of you, your warmth, your touch, your love.

When he finally comes back to himself, he looks down at you, his eyes still hazy, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Holy shit.” he breathes out, his voice shaky, and he lets out a weak laugh, his fingers still tangled in your hair. “That… that was incredible.”

You lean up, crawling up his body to press a kiss to his lips, and he kisses you back, slow and sweet, his hand cupping your cheek as if he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs against your mouth, his other hand trailing down your back, pulling you closer.

You smile against his lips, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, the way he’s still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of his release. “I think we’re just getting started, aren’t we?” you whisper, your voice low and teasing.

He grins, his eyes bright with excitement and affection. “Oh, I hope so.” he replies, his voice filled with promise, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

And as he pulls you back down into another kiss, deep and slow, you feel it too—the certainty that whatever comes next, you’re ready for it. Together.

Satoru's grin softens as he looks at you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes are filled with something tender and deep, a look that makes your heart swell with affection.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss that seems to say everything he can't put into words. His hands are gentle as they explore your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if memorizing you by touch alone.

He pulls back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. "And tonight… Tonight is all about you."

You shiver at his words, a thrill running down your spine. His hands slide down your sides, settling on your hips, and he shifts you gently, guiding you onto your back. He hovers over you, his body warm and solid against yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, his desire palpable in the air between you.

He takes his time, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his mouth hot and soft as he moves lower, tasting your skin. Every kiss sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat as his mouth finds all the places that make you sigh, that make you arch against him.

His hands are everywhere—gentle yet insistent, roaming over your body, touching, caressing, exploring. His mouth follows, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, his lips brushing over your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, until you’re gasping, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.

“Please, Satoru…” you whisper, your voice a soft, needy plea.

He smiles against your skin, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Patience, baby.” he murmurs, his voice teasing but thick with need. “I want to make this last… make you feel good.”

He continues his descent, his kisses growing more heated, more purposeful. His mouth moves lower still, down your stomach, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, and you feel your breath hitch, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands part your thighs, his touch firm but gentle, and you feel your heart start to race, your pulse pounding in your ears.

He glances up at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with a mixture of mischief and adoration. “Just relax, baby.” he whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you gasp. “Let your loving husband take care of you.”

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue moving with a slow, deliberate precision that has you moaning his name, your hips lifting off the bed as pleasure sparks through you like wildfire.

He doesn’t rush—he takes his time, tasting you, teasing you, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you in place as he brings you to the brink over and over again.

You’re lost in the sensation, your head falling back against the pillows, your fingers gripping the sheets as he works you over with his mouth, his tongue moving in ways that make your toes curl, that send you spiraling into a state of pure, unadulterated bliss.

“Satoru, please!” you cry out, your voice breaking, and he hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

“Mm, that’s it.” he murmurs, his voice muffled but full of satisfaction. “Let go for me… I want to feel you come.”

His words are like a command, and you feel yourself falling, tumbling over the edge as pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body arching against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him against you as you come, crying out his name.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, his mouth relentless, his tongue flicking and curling, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body trembling with aftershocks.

“Again, baby.” he whispers, his voice dark and filled with want. “I want to hear you scream my name again.”

And you do—again and again. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a moment to recover before he’s building you up again, his fingers joining his mouth, pressing into you with a rhythm that matches the beat of your racing heart. His thumb finds that perfect spot, rubbing circles that make your vision blur, and you’re gone again, crying out, your body clenching around him, your mind blank with pleasure.

You lose count of how many times he makes you come, each one more intense than the last, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a storm, pulling you deeper and deeper into a sea of sensation. You’re breathless, your body spent, and yet he keeps going, determined to wring every last bit of pleasure from you, to make you feel as cherished and adored as he possibly can.

When you finally collapse against the sheets, your body trembling, your skin slick with sweat, he crawls up to meet you, his lips capturing yours in a soft, tender kiss, his hands gentle as they cradle your face.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice filled with awe, his breath warm against your lips. “I could spend the rest of my life making you feel like this.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love, and you pull him close, kissing him deeply, letting him know without words that you feel the same. Because in this moment, with him, you’ve never felt more alive, more loved, more complete.

Satoru’s breath hitches when he feels you shift beneath him, the soft, unintentional grind of your hips against his sending a jolt of electricity straight through him. He bites back a moan, his fingers tightening on your hips instinctively, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment as he tries to maintain some semblance of control.

God, the way you affect him—how effortlessly you make his heart race, his breath catch, his body respond like this—it’s like you have a power over him that goes far beyond anything he’s ever known. He’s already hard, painfully so, and the thin fabric of his uniform pants does little to hide his need, the friction almost too much to bear.

“S-Shit…..” he mutters, his voice low and strained, and he swallows hard, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected you to move like that, hadn’t expected the sheer intensity of his reaction.

He wants to touch you, to hold you, to be buried deep inside you, but he’s almost afraid to move, afraid that if he does, he’ll lose what little control he has left.

You shift again, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily, a broken moan escaping his lips as he presses against you, feeling your warmth, your softness, even through the layers of fabric. It’s too much, and yet not enough, and he feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

“God, baby.” he breathes out, his voice trembling, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to hold himself back. “You have no idea… what you do to me.”

He’s desperate, his body aching with need, his mind a haze of lust and longing, but he’s also so full of love, of adoration, that it takes his breath away. He wants you—he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything—but he also wants to savor this, to make it last, to make sure you feel just as good as he does.

He grinds against you again, more deliberately this time, and he lets out a low, shuddering breath, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. “I’m… I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. “I can’t… I can’t stop myself.”

His hands move to your waist, fingers splaying out over your skin, and he begins to move against you, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins. He can feel you beneath him, feel the heat of your body, the way you respond to his every touch, his every movement, and it drives him wild.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you with a hunger that matches the desperation in his movements, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you, devouring you. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips, and he tugs you closer, pulling you against him, needing more, needing everything.

“I… I need you. Need you so bad.” he murmurs against your lips, his voice breaking, raw and filled with longing. “I need to feel you… all of you.”

He shifts his weight slightly, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his pants, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he struggles to free himself. He’s too impatient, too needy, and he lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers trembling as he finally manages to shove his pants down just enough to release his aching length.

He’s rock-hard, the tip of his cock already leaking with precum, and he groans again as he presses against you, the heat of your body sending another wave of pleasure crashing through him.

“Please, baby.” he whispers, his voice desperate, his hips grinding against you, “I can’t… I can’t wait anymore.”

You arch against him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin, and he moans, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

He’s trembling, his whole body taut with need, and he can barely think, barely breathe, all he knows is that he wants you, needs you, more than anything. He presses forward slowly, carefully, his breath catching in his throat as he feels you envelop him, inch by inch, the tight, wet heat of you driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck… you feel… so good....” he groans, his hips pressing forward, sliding deeper inside you, and he can’t stop the shudder that runs through him, the overwhelming sensation of finally being inside you, of being this close, this connected.

He starts with deliberate slowness, his thrusts shallow and gentle, as if testing the boundaries of your shared connection. His breath catches, and you can feel the tension in his body, how he's holding back, savoring the sensation of being so close to you.

The warmth of him inside you, the way your bodies fit together so seamlessly, sends a shiver through you. Your legs instinctively tighten around him, pulling him deeper, and that's when you hear it—a low, guttural growl from deep within his chest.

The sound is raw, primal, a reflection of his desire, and it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His restraint begins to crumble. He thrusts harder, his hips snapping against yours with growing intensity, and each movement feels more urgent, more desperate. His hands, once tender on your waist, now grip you with fervor, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

The pace quickens, his need spilling out in every motion. He’s relentless, each thrust filled with a hunger to make you feel the same pleasure that's overtaking him. You can hear the labored breaths escaping his lips, see the fire in his eyes as they lock onto yours. His voice, hoarse and trembling with emotion, breaks the silence between you.

“God… I love you.” he gasps, barely able to form the words between ragged breaths. His rhythm becomes frenzied, driven by the overwhelming sensation of being with you in this moment.

“I love you… so much… so fucking much,” he groans, his voice thick with passion. Each declaration is a pulse of raw emotion, his need to show you, to let you feel every ounce of his love, pouring out of him.

His movements, once careful and measured, have become wild and uncontrollable, driven by the depth of his feelings. Every thrust is a a call to his desire, every gasp a confession of how deeply he’s fallen for you.

His pace becomes frantic, a blend of raw need and overwhelming affection. Every movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, the intensity of his desire matching your own.

His hands roam from your waist to your hips, gripping tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid to let go—afraid that this moment might slip away if he doesn’t hold you close enough.

The sound of your bodies moving together fills the air, the room heavy with heat and tension. You feel the build-up of pleasure rising within you, matching the urgency of his thrusts.

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he looks at you, as if his every feeling, his every thought, is laid bare in this moment.

His breath comes in ragged gasps, each one catching as his need grows more intense. The sensation of you wrapped around him, the way your body responds to his every touch, only fuels him further.

He lowers his head to press his lips against your neck, kissing a trail from your collarbone up to your jaw, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't… get enough of you," he murmurs against your skin, his voice shaky, consumed by the pleasure coursing through him. "You're everything… everything I need."

His words are laced with both desperation and adoration, the weight of his feelings crashing over him. With each thrust, you can feel how close he is to the edge, but he holds on, wanting to prolong this moment with you, to savor every second.

His hands grip your thighs now, pulling you even closer, the friction between you igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through every nerve.

The pressure inside you builds, coiling tighter and tighter as he moves. His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body arching into him, and he groans in response, the sound reverberating deep within his chest.

It’s as if the world outside of this moment ceases to exist. All you can feel is him—his heat, his breath, the weight of his love for you driving him to move faster, harder.

“I’m so close, baby.” he gasps, his voice cracking as he struggles to hold on just a little longer, his body trembling with restraint. His eyes meet yours again, and the look in them is nothing short of devotion. “I need you… I need you to come with me.”

And with those words, everything inside you unravels. The release hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in wave after wave of pleasure, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him. He follows soon after, his body tensing as he lets out a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he finally lets go, the force of his climax overwhelming him.

For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you thick with the afterglow of what you’ve just shared. His body rests against yours, both of you spent, your hearts beating in sync as you catch your breath.

══════════════════

epilogue

In the cozy living room of your home, Gojo Satoru sat on the floor with your son, Satoshi, sprawled out in front of him, surrounded by toys and colorful blocks.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Satoru was trying to entertain Satoshi with a game of building blocks, but the little boy’s curiosity took an unexpected turn.

Satoshi looked up at Satoru, his big, innocent eyes full of questions. “Papa, papa!” he asked, “How was ‘toshi born?”

Satoru’s eyes widened, and he froze mid-block placement, the toy car in his hand almost slipping out. He glanced around, searching for a way to divert the conversation, but Satoshi was looking at him with unwavering expectation.

Satoru cleared his throat, his mind racing back to that unforgettable honeymoon in Paris and maybe a little after that…..you know, there’s been a lot and he just….he doesn’t know how and where things had become a bit… complicated. He doesn’t really count.

“Well, my little dawn…baby, you see…” Satoru began, trying to sound as casual as possible, “A lot of it is just…. it’s a bit of a… long story.”

Satoshi tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “A long story? Like when we go to Grandma’s house?”

Satoru nodded, his mind still floundering for the right words. “Exactly like that, but, um, with more… magic.”

Satoshi’s eyes widened, and he leaned closer. “Magic? Did you use your special powers?”

Satoru scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if there was a way to explain this that didn’t involve any, ahem, explicit details. “Well, it’s more like… a magical moment, little dawn.” he said, smiling nervously. “Because well….magic is magic!”

Satoshi looked thoughtful, then blinked. “Was it like when you make the cookies disappear?”

Satoru’s face turned a shade of red, and he tried to stifle a laugh. He doesn’t know how he was supposed to do this at all. “Uh, not exactly. More like… a really happy time when mama and papa were together, and, uh, we decided to have more family for big brother Megumi and big sister Tsumiki, you know?”

Satoshi nodded slowly, his tiny brow furrowing as he considered this. “So, you made cookies disappear and that’s how I got here?”

Satoru chuckled, a little relieved that Satoshi seemed satisfied with the vague explanation. “Sort of, yes. It’s a special kind of magic that’s, um, a bit different from making cookies disappear.”

Satoshi pondered this for a moment, then brightened. “Okay! Can we build a magic castle now?”

Satoru laughed, feeling a wave of relief. “Absolutely, let’s build the biggest magic castle ever!”

As Satoru helped Satoshi with the blocks, he couldn’t help but think that he had successfully dodged a bullet—or at least, he hoped he had. He glanced at the photo of you on the mantel and grinned, knowing that despite the complexities of parenthood, there were some things best left to the imagination.

When you arrived home, the late afternoon light was still spilling into the living room, casting a golden hue over the scene. You found Satoru and Satoshi surrounded by a sprawling fortress of colorful blocks, the little boy’s face alight with triumph as he declared his castle complete.

“Mama!” Satoshi called out, running over to greet you with his usual enthusiasm. “Look at the magic castle Papa and I built!”

You smiled, bending down to give him a hug. “It’s beautiful, Satoshi! I’m so proud of you.”

Satoru stood up, brushing the dust off his pants with a sheepish grin. He looked slightly relieved to see you, and he met your eyes with a hint of nervousness. You looked at him with curious eyes as he tried to take a deep breath. It was as though he was preparing himself to tell you something.

“Hey, baby.” you said, raising an eyebrow at him as you moved towards the kitchen. “How was your day with Satoshi?”

Satoru followed you, his expression a mix of amusement and apprehension. “It was good, but we had a little… conversation.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? About what?”

Satoru scratched the back of his neck, his face turning a bit red. “Well, Satoshi asked me how he was born….well, like not born. How…how he was made?”

You froze mid-step, your eyes widening as you looked at him. “Oh, really? And how did you handle that?”

Satoru let out a nervous chuckle. “I tried to explain it with… magic. I told him it was like a special kind of magic and that it happened when mama and papa decided to have a family.”

You stifled a laugh, trying to keep a straight face. “Did he buy that?”

Satoru shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sort of. He thought it was like making cookies disappear, so I went along with it.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head.You couldn’t stop to the point you were coughing. Satoru blushed, even his ears were red. “Cookies? That’s one way to put it.”

Satoru looked relieved to see you find the humor in the situation. “Yeah, I guess. He seemed satisfied, so I think we dodged a bullet.”

You walked over to Satoshi, who was now engrossed in a new block creation. You crouched down next to him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Satoshi, did papa tell you a magic story?”

Satoshi nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. “Yes! And we built a magic castle! Papa said it’s like magic cookies!”

You glanced at Satoru, who was trying to suppress a grin. “Well, that sounds like a fun story.”

Satoru walked over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I think we managed to keep things light, but I’m glad you’re home to handle the next round of questions.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. And next time, maybe we’ll keep the magic cookies out of the explanation.”

Satoru grinned, pulling you into a gentle hug. “Deal. Thanks for saving me from my own magical misadventures.”

You both chuckled, watching as Satoshi continued his block building, blissfully unaware of the parental confusion that had preceded his masterpiece.

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dheerajquintus · 4 months ago

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cowboybeepboop · 1 month ago

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Crave

"Y/N, is this... what you want?"

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: You’re close friends with the two brothers from childhood, years of a debilitating crush on Sergei finally builds into something more.

a/n: i just saw this movie like a couple days ago and all i can think of is needy virgin Sergei 😣 i didn’t proofread what so ever and also i wrote this in barely any time but i hope you all enjoy AND PLEASE IF YOU HAVE ANY KRAVEN REQUESTS SEND THEM MY WAY IM CRAVING THIS MAN

It's been a few successful days in avoiding the two brothers, you do this every year, like clockwork. Whenever Sergei comes back home, you distract yourself and stay away the best you can. It’s not worth the heartbreak to see him leave over and over again.

Dimitri has been calling you nightly, but each night you can hear the sounds of Sergei in the background. He plagues your thoughts, your dreams, your days. All you can think about is the warmth of his skin under your fingers and the gentleness of his touch.

You shudder as your eyes shut, warmth pooling in your panties as your mind wanders back to him. "Dimitri.. I've gotta go," you murmur into the phone. "I'm going to get some drinks with my friend here soon."

Dimitri replies enthusiastically, agreeing with your choice. He wishes you goodnight and hangs up the phone, leaving you with the image of Sergei's intense gaze, the feel of his muscles under your fingertips, and the lingering warmth in your stomach.

You can't shake the thoughts, the images of him constantly swirling in your head, the way his voice changes when he speaks, the touch of his hands. It haunts your dreams, and you can't help but feel an unexplainable intrigue and a growing desire for him.

You quickly get changed, ready for a night of reckless distraction, desperately seeking a way to forget about the complex hunter. You head out, the cool night air hitting your skin, the music getting louder and louder as you approach the club.

You arrive, and the thumping music and flashing lights engulf you, offering a temporary escape from your thoughts of the man who has been plaguing your mind. Taking in the overwhelming atmosphere of the club, the loud music, the flashing lights, and the sea of bodies, all of it works together to create a sense of chaos and excitement.

Despite the distraction, you can't shake the sensation of being watched, it lingers even as the bouncer returns your ID. Your mind drifts back to Sergei, and the memory of his intense gaze lingers in your thoughts, almost as if you sense his presence somewhere nearby.

You try to shake off the feeling getting a few shots to distract yourself and calm your wandering mind. As time passes, you've found your target: he's a decent-looking man, with a similar haircut to Sergei, a gentle demeanor, and he has a nice smile. He's good enough for what you need him for.

The two of you exit the building, the chill midnight air freezing your skin immediately, the man you're with clutches his jacket tighter. Obviously showing a lack of interest in helping you cover your skin.

Despite being with this man, you still can't entirely shake the feeling of being watched. It lingers, a constant reminder of the man you're trying to forget. Sergei watches from afar, his jaw clenched as he notices your shiver. You whip your head around, looking for the eyes that are following your every move.

You can't see him, but he's still there, standing in the shadow of a dimly lit alleyway. His eyes follow your every move, observing your interactions with the man beside you. His jaw remains tight, his gaze cold and intense.

As you whip around, you catch a glimpse of a figure in the darkness, just beyond the reach of the dim street light. It’s subtle, but the feeling of being observed lingers.

Unfortunately, this night will not be filled with any sort of satisfaction as you notice a group of men dressed in dark clothes, weapons hidden in their pockets. "Fuck." you whisper, using your arms to cover your skin the best you can.

The men approach, their intentions unclear, and the tension in the air is palpable. The cold wind bites at your skin, and you can't help but wrap your arms around yourself, your teeth chatter, and goosebumps rise on your skin, yet you can sense another gaze watching you, fixated, observing your every move.

Before you have time to react Sergei approaches from the shadows, giving the group a warning look as he steps closer to you. The men stop in their tracks, their gazes shifting to the imposing figure stepping out of the darkness.

Their muscles tense, and they exchange hesitant glances as Sergei approaches closer, his presence radiating danger, his piercing eyes fixed on the men in front of you.

His hands are gentle on your shoulder, causing you to jump as you turn to look at him, you immediately relax when you recognize him. Finding comfort in his strong protective arms.

His touch carries reassurance, his big, sturdy hands gently resting on your shoulder, offering a subtle sense of security. His eyes, no matter how cold they seem, convey a flicker of concern, a flicker of reassurance that speaks more than words.

The tension lingers, but the warmth of his touch somehow seems to offer a moment of tranquility, a gentle comfort despite the surrounding danger.

Sergei removes his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders to keep you warm. "I suggest you all disperse, go your separate ways," he warns with narrowed eyes. The men listen, running in different directions, even your date scurries away.

The men disperse hurriedly, leaving you and Sergei standing alone in the cold, the sounds of the night filling the air around you. You shiver, the cold air seeping through your clothing, but the warmth of his jacket offers some comfort, the fabric soft against your skin. The tension in the air is now replaced by a hushed stillness, save for the faint noise from the club behind you.

"You scared away my date.." you whisper, turning to face him while gripping the coat around you tightly.

He stands there, the cold air mixing with his breath, his expression cool and composed, but there's a hint of sincerity in his gaze as he looks at you. His voice, low and measured, responds to your words.

"Your choice in company leaves much to be desired." He watches you, studying your shivering form, seeing how you clutch his jacket tightly for warmth.

"I suppose you're right," you move closer to him, craving the warmth of his skin. "But, I did have a plan for how my Friday night would go." Sergei begins to lead you in the direction of your apartment, his hands gentle on your frame.

He walks beside you, his presence towering above you, his movements deliberate and measured. He remains silent as he guides you towards your apartment.

He glances at you from the corner of his gaze, seeing how you instinctively lean into him, seeking his heat and protection. He can't help but notice the way you grasp his coat, his gaze flickering to your hand gripping the fabric.

Once you reach the building you face him once again, the alcohol mixing with your unwavering horniness as you study his features. "Sergei.." you whisper his name, stomach twisting with desire.

His eyes meet yours, his icy gaze studying your face as you say his name. His eyes flick between yours, the sound of his name causing a subtle reaction in his expression, a flicker of some unknown emotion.

"Yes, Y/N?" His voice is composed but holds a hint of something unfamiliar, something subtle and hard to discern, perhaps an echo of a memory or a flicker of feelings he thought were long-forgotten.

"Don't say my name like that," you whine, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration.

His eyebrows raise slightly with curiosity upon hearing your words, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes. He studies the frustration in your expression, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

"How else should I say it?" He asks, his voice quiet but measured, a hint of genuine curiosity in his words. Despite his icy demeanor, there's a hint of gentle protectiveness as he looks at you, trying to figure out why the way he said your name made you react with frustration.

You groan, turning away from him, your body aching for his touch. "Forget it, I should get inside. It's cold."

He follows you into the building, the door closing behind you both. The sound of the city seems to fade away, replaced by the stillness of the hallway.

He studies you, noticing your frustrated groan and the way you turn away from him. As you stand there, he can sense your frustration, the unspoken desires still hanging between you two.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asks, his voice quiet and measured. He watches you, feeling a pang of curiosity as to why you seemed to grow frustrated at the mere sound of his voice.

You unlock the door to your apartment, the neediness in his tone making your panties soaked. "Sergei..." you practically whine his name, frustrated with the lack of awareness he has of how much he's affecting you.

As you unlock the door, his eyes flick to yours, the slight desperation evident in your voice causing his gaze to soften even further, his eyes fixated on you. He follows you inside the door, his eyes trained on your face.

There's a noticeable pause, a slight shift in the air. He can sense the tension and the subtle emotions hidden beneath your frustration, but he seems unaware of the impact he's having on you.

"Y/N..." He responds gently, his voice carrying a hint of a question, a tinge of hesitance as if he senses something but can't quite tell what.

You squeeze your thighs tightly together, "Don't say it like that.." you gasp, he finally catches on to your behavior. The scent of your arousal fills his nostrils.

He's still for a moment, the realization seems to dawn on him, a subtle shift in his expression, and his eyes widen a bit as he stands there silently. The air feels heavy with your arousal, the scent filling his senses, the realization hitting him like a sudden wave.

He stares at you, his eyes tracing the way you squeeze your thighs together, trying to hide the visible effect he's having on you.

"Like what?" He asks quietly, his voice low, as if he knows the answer, but needs your confirmation. His eyes remain fixated on you, taking in every tiny movement, every little sign of your arousal.

There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of a realization that he may be the cause of your frustration.

"I can't.." you sigh, reaching out to touch his firm abs, "The way you're saying my name.. it turns me on." you press your face into his chest, craving his touch.

A shiver runs through his body at your words, the touch of your hand against his abs, and the way you press your face to his chest. He seems to tense up for a moment, caught off guard by your words and the way you press against him.

He stands there, still trying to process your admission, his expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on you as you nuzzle against him, the tension between you almost palpable.

"Sergei.. Say something, anything.." you murmur, pulling away from him reluctantly.

His breath catches in his throat, and his chest heaves as he stares down at you, the scent of your arousal flooding his senses. He's silent for a moment, still trying to comprehend the effect he has on you, his heart beats a bit faster, and his words seem to get stuck in his throat.

"Y/N..." He murmurs softly, almost hesitantly, his voice carrying a slight tremble as he tries to choose the right words amidst his unexpected arousal.

You take his hand in yours, leading it towards your aching cunt. "Sergei.. please.."

His eyes widen slightly at the gentle touch of your hand, his breath is sharp as he feels the soft heat of your body. His fingers tense as you lead his hand, a mix of bewilderment and arousal coursing through him. He follows your lead, his touch gentle as he moves as you guide him.

"Y/N.." He exhales, his voice low and gravelly, his eyes holding a hint of uncertainty as he looks at you, his gaze flickering between your face and his hand as you guide it to where you need it most.

You moan as his fingers brush over the growing wet spot, your body shaking with anticipation.

He can feel the heat of your arousal through your clothes, a shiver runs through his body, goosebumps rise on his skin, and his eyes hold a mix of surprise and a subtle hunger. His touch lingers for a moment, his fingers just tracing the growing wetness, his voice wavering as he speaks.

He swallows hard, his words still hesitant, a breathless tone to his voice. "I don't know what... I'm doing..."

You guide his hand under the fabric of your panties, silently begging him to please you, to take control. You're too far gone to process the words he murmured, lust clouding your mind.

He takes a deep breath as his fingers move under the fabric of your panties, the touch sending a bolt of electricity through him, his whole body seems to shudder at the sensation. His eyes hold a mix of uncertainty and a sudden surge of arousal as he tries to understand what he's feeling.

"Y/N, is this... what you want?" He asks, his voice hoarse as he speaks, his other hand gripping your waist, his fingers holding onto you needily despite his uncertainty.

"Yes… Yes please," you whine, fingers pressing into his as you guide his movements against your clit.

His breath catches as you guide his fingers, a low, almost guttural groan escaping him, his fingers press into you, trying to find the right rhythm. His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his body pressed closer to you.

"Like this?" He asks almost hesitantly, his words coming out in a rush, the tension between you both rising by the second.

You moan desperately, body shuddering as his rough fingers tease your swollen pearl. "Exactly like this.." your breathing becomes uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He can feel the effect his touch has on you, the sounds that escape you pushing him forward, the feeling of you responding to his touch. His breathing grows heavier, and his hand moves between your thighs, fingers pressing and teasing exactly as you guide him, a surge of arousal coursing through him at your sounds.

"I want to make you feel good, Y/N," he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a growing hunger, but still a hint of uncertainty, as if he's not entirely sure of what to do.

Your moans become more needy, using your free hand you pull his face to yours desperately kissing him. Your legs tremble as you cum, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clench around his arm.

The suddenness of your kiss catches him off guard, his lips respond to yours urgently, a mixture of hunger and a subtle hesitancy in his movements. As you moan and tremble, he can feel it in every inch of his body, his own arousal growing at the sound of your pleasure.

He kisses you back with a mix of need and an undeniable arousal, his strong arm holding you tightly against him. He can sense the tension breaking, your nails gripping tightly to him, your body pressing desperately into his touch, the heat and the taste of your lips driving him wild.

You shudder, leaning forward and pressing a few soft kisses into his neck as all the tension leaves you. "Fuck, Sergei.. so good.." you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you slide your fingers over the marks you left on his back, gently soothing the reddened scratches.

He moans softly as you press kisses against his neck, a low, pleased rumble escaping his chest. He pulls you closer against him, his body pressed flush with yours as he wraps his arms around you. A mix of feelings swirling within him, uncertainty and hunger, his breath coming out in shallow gasps.

His grip on you tightens slightly, holding you in place as you soothe the scratches you left behind, a subtle shiver running down his spine as your fingers graze over the marks. His heart pounds furiously in his chest, his body responding to every touch and every sound you make.

You slip out of his grasp, leading him to your bedroom as you slide out of your dress, standing in front of him in just your panties and bra. "I need you.." you whisper, eyes full of desire.

He follows you to the bedroom, his eyes scanning your body as you slip out of your dress, his gaze dark and intense as he takes in your form. His heart beats furiously in his chest, the hunger growing inside him, a mix of desire and uncertainty as his eyes roam over you.

A low, quiet moan escapes him, his voice hoarse and filled with longing as he responds to your words. "I need you too, Y/N, I'm just unsure.. I've never..." He hesitates, his eyes filled with a combination of uncertainty and a growing hunger that he can no longer deny.

"It's all instincts," you murmur, bringing his hands to your breasts. "I can teach you... but just do what feels right." you brush your thumb over his cheekbone.

He swallows hard at your words, his eyes fixed on your form as his hands move to your breasts, a mix of uncertainty and a growing hunger filling him. As his palms cup your chest, he exhales deeply, his breath catching in his throat. He nods in response to your words, his eyes searching for guidance as he looks into yours.

You reach back and unclasp your bra, freeing your chest to his hungry gaze, sliding out of your underwear and moving to undress him.

A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes fixed on your chest, his gaze filled with hunger and a growing need. He can feel the anticipation coursing through him, his breath catching as you undress him, his heart beating thunderously in his chest.

He can't help but respond to your touch, his body is eager for your guidance. As you move to undress him, his eyes linger on you, taking in every little detail as his mind seems to be clouded by arousal, a mix of lust and an unfamiliar sensation he can't quite name.

He slowly lowers himself onto his knees, his gaze dark and lustful as he stares up at you. Sergei presses wet kisses onto your thighs, the scent of your cunt making his eyes roll back as he spreads your legs.

There's a mix of hunger and anticipation in his eyes as he drops to his knees before you, his gaze intense and dark with a growing desire, his hands caressing your thighs. As his kisses travel along your thighs, his breathing grows heavier, his eyes rolling back as he takes in the scent of your desires.

He looks up at you, a mix of hunger and a subtle uncertainty in his gaze as he runs his tongue along your inner thigh, his movements gentle as if he's trying to gauge your reaction, to figure out what to do.

Your legs spread wider, giving him room to bury his face into your soaking pussy. He sticks his tongue out, slowly licking up your wetness, and his hands grasp onto your hipbones pulling you closer.

He can feel the warmth and wetness against his lips, and his tongue flickers over your sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His grip on your hipbones tightens, pulling you closer to him, his fingers pressing into your smooth flesh.

“Fuck..” you moan eyes fluttering shut as you lurch forward, his tongue slips into your pulsing hole, lapping up every liquid. Your hips instinctively begin to move against his mouth, grinding against his stubble.

His eyes are trained on your face, watching every bit of pleasure wash over you. His mouth moves to your clit, his tongue gently brushing over the sensitive bud causing you to jolt and let out a needy moan.

“Right there, jus’ like that..” you whine, fingers twisting in his hair as moans fall from your open mouth. He does as you instruct, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue teasing it roughly as his hunger grows.

You let out a gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as you tremble, legs growing weak. Sergei holds your body up his mouth working against you as he chases your orgasm.

Tears brim your eyes as the pleasure overwhelms you, with a loud moan you finally let go, cum spilling from you as you press onto his face trying to pull him away from your overly sensitive clit.

He keeps lapping up at the liquids, hungry for more. “Sergei.. no more..” you whine, shaking above him.

His face is glazed as he stands up, he can taste you on his lips, the hunger in his eyes still evident. He stands before you, his eyes filled with lust and a mix of newfound confidence. He looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your trembling form as he holds onto you, trying to steady you.

You pull him into another hungry kiss, feeling his hands explore your body as he palms your breasts. His fingers tweaking your nipples as he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap.

He responds to your kiss with urgency and need, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve and contour, tracing over your skin with a kind of hunger and reverence. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap, his grip firmer now, his own need and hunger growing more intense.

He breaks the kiss, his breath heavy as he looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and a hint of something more, a feeling that he can't quite comprehend.

“You’re so hard..” you murmur, feeling his clothed length pressing into your wet cunt.

He moans softly at the feeling, his breath catches as you speak, and a low growl escapes him as he responds. "You... do this to me." His voice is low, his hands gripping your hips firmly, guiding you closer to him. "I can't control this... this feeling. I need you..." He admits, the sensations coursing through him overwhelming, his body responding to your proximity to him.

You begin to slowly move your hips against his, shaking as the roughness of the fabric brushes over your overstimulated clit. "Then take me.." you whisper into his ear, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He growls softly, his breath catches in his throat as you move against him, his senses flooding with sensations, his breathing is shallow, and his hands tighten on your hips. His eyes burn with hunger, his body moving in unison with yours. "I don't know if I can be gentle, Y/N," he whispers, his voice hoarse and desperate, "I need you. Now."

With trembling hands, Sergei guides you back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He can't ignore the need pounding through him, but he's cautious, knowing this is new to him. He carefully positions himself over you, his large hands supporting his weight as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, but the heat in them is unmistakable. "Y/N, are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. You nod eagerly, your body arching up to meet his. He takes a deep breath, and with one swift, gentle thrust, he enters you, filling you completely.

His eyes squeeze shut tightly as he feels you stretch around him, his whole body shaking with the effort to hold back his desire. He's so thick, so warm, and the sensation sends a new wave of pleasure through your core.

"So good," he murmurs against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he starts to move, his hips tentatively pushing in and out. His inexperience is evident in his careful movements, but the need in his touch, the way his body responds to yours, is undeniably erotic.

You wrap your legs around him, urging him to go deeper, and he responds, his strokes becoming more confident as he finds a rhythm that has you both panting and moaning in sync. Despite his lack of experience, his instincts guide him, and every touch, every stroke feels like it was designed to make you lose control.

His gentle, yet firm grip on your hips, the way he kisses and nips at your neck, it's all too much, and you can feel another orgasm building, threatening to shatter you apart. "Y/N... I'm... I'm going to... " he stammers, his body tensing as he nears his release.

With a final, deep thrust, he fills you with his stringy thick cum, his body collapsing on top of yours, his breath hot against your neck. He reaches down to your clit, brushing his forefinger over it desperate to make you cum again.

A few more strokes cause you to shudder and tremble around his, your pussy clenching around his cock as you cum. “Holy shit.. you’re so good,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his hungrily.

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harryspet · 1 year ago

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bambi eyes (1) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: My first Rafe fic :)

word count: 4.4k

In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin.

As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there.

He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could.

After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house.

There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls.

The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”

Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you.

Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him.

“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.”

The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase.

He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors.

An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different.

“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on. He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”

Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint.

The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.

“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you.

“Mr. Cameron-”

“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.”

As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you.

Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him.

He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted.

You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg.

He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you.

You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself.

His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake.

As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”

“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”

Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”

“And why’s that?”

“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.

“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his.

“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills, although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”

“Your guys run their mouths.”

“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”

Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars.

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”

Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”

Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.”

You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted.

Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom.

Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice.

You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle.

You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress.

“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”

Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure.

You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”

When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you.

“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting.

Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away.

“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”

You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”

You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next.

“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”

You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added.

You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”

Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed.

“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant.

Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?”

His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”

“This whole room is just for me?”

“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”

You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”

You nodded.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further.

“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”

“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”

“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”

“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect, “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”

“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”

“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”

This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”

He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”

Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?”

Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”

“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress.

“I thought you wanted me …”

“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”

You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”

Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”

“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab.

Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics.

That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”

“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”

“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”

“Your father, was he like Master?”

“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”

You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”

“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly.

“You’ll punish me?”

Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”

You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you.

He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him.

Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”

Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”

“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”

“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”

Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out.

He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.

“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over.

Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.”

“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff.

He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.”

He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened.

“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

Part 2

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

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mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

Text

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1854 - could it be love?

chapter summary: You meet Logan, a young man who is briefly stopping by in New York City. Despite both of your better judgments, you quickly realize that perhaps there's nothing wrong with falling in love.

word count: 22.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: ahh!! welcome to this new series! i'm very excited to start this journey with all of y'all! just a note, when i say 'character death(s)' in the warnings it means that reader is going to die at the end of every chapter. that's the entire premise of this series, which was inspired by the 11th doctor and clara (iykyk). but first, we have a lot of time to cover before we even reach the first x-men movie so strap in!

i also didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, oops

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, slow burn, illness, character deaths

series masterlist → chapter 2

You didn’t necessarily love your job, but it was better than other options available for you. You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the sidewalk of New York City, horses neighing and wheels rattling on the brick street.

The bonnet on your head protected you from the sun beating down, keeping you from further heat in your dress. You had many things to do while you were out, get the children some new clothes and toys, buy some groceries, and buy some extra cloth for when you eventually had to sew their clothing.

As you passed by a small shop, you paused, peering in through the window. A few wooden toys sat on the shelf inside, simple and sturdy. Perfect for the boys. You pushed the door open, a little bell jingling as you entered, and you made your way toward the display.

"Can I help you, miss?" The shopkeeper’s voice startled you, but you smiled politely.

"Just looking for some toys," you replied, eyes scanning the shelves.

As you picked up a carved wooden horse, the door opened again behind you, letting in a bit of fresh air and a man’s heavy footsteps. You didn’t pay it much mind until you felt a presence nearby, a little too close for comfort. You turned slightly, catching sight of a tall man with dark hair and an unshaven face, dressed in a rough shirt and worn pants, a bit out of place among the polished streets of the city.

He glanced your way, his sharp eyes catching yours for a brief moment before he looked back to the shelves.

Something about him felt different—dangerous, but not in the way that made you want to run. More like it pulled you in, made you curious.

You turned back to the toys, but your mind kept wandering back to the stranger standing nearby. You couldn’t help but glance his way again.

"Those are good for little ones," the man said, his voice rough but casual. He nodded at the toy horse in your hand. "They hold up well. Tougher than they look."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden comment. "You have experience with them?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile. "A bit. Used to make ‘em myself."

You looked him over more closely now, intrigued. "You don’t seem like the toy-making type."

His eyes flicked to yours, something amused in the way he looked at you. "Not anymore," he said, then turned his attention back to the shelves.

There was a silence between you for a moment, but it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it felt like he didn’t mind you being there, like he was used to people drifting in and out of his space.

You finally spoke again. "I suppose these are sturdy enough for two boys, then."

"Yeah. They’ll survive a beating."

You laughed, the sound surprising you. He gave you another look, a bit more interested this time. There was something about him that made you feel seen in a way that was different from how most men looked at you.

You gathered a few more toys, careful not to spend too much, but you couldn’t resist getting something extra for the little girl you looked after. She was sweet, and it wasn’t her fault she was stuck in such a strict household.

The stranger watched you with those sharp eyes, like he could see more than what was right in front of him. You wondered what his story was, but you weren’t about to ask.

As you headed to the counter, he followed, though he didn’t buy anything. The shopkeeper took your coins, and you gathered your parcels, still feeling the man’s presence behind you.

"Thanks for the advice," you said over your shoulder, more as a courtesy than anything else.

He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."

With that, you left the shop, stepping back into the sunlight, the weight of your errands still on your shoulders. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe that wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

---

Edwin and Phillip seemed to enjoy the toy you got them, already fighting over who gets to play with it first. They were the eldest, Edwin was 9, Phillip was 7, and Ada was 6. You handed her the toy you got for her, one she got to keep all to herself.

Ada's face lit up when you handed her the small, carved doll. She held it in her hands gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"For me?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.

You smiled and nodded. "Just for you, Ada."

Her eyes sparkled, and she hugged the doll to her chest. "Thank you!"

Edwin and Phillip were already in the middle of their tug-of-war with the wooden horse, the two boys shouting over whose turn it was.

"I had it first!" Edwin argued, pulling the toy toward him.

"You always get it first!" Phillip shot back, his voice growing louder.

You sighed and stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take turns? If you can't share, I'll have to take it away, and no one gets to play with it."

They both groaned but reluctantly agreed, setting the horse on the floor. Edwin was a bit of a handful, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. Phillip, the quieter one, usually followed his brother’s lead. At least Ada wasn’t much trouble.

After helping Ada settle in with her new toy, you turned to check on the boys, making sure they hadn’t already forgotten your words. But as you did, your thoughts drifted back to the man in the shop. There was something about him—something that lingered in your mind even now. He didn’t fit in with the usual crowd you saw around here, but he didn’t seem bothered by that.

It was odd, though, that someone like him would be in a toy shop of all places. You tried to shake the thought away, but it kept creeping back, a sense that your brief encounter meant more than it appeared.

Later, after the children had settled down, you found yourself with a rare quiet moment. You sat by the window, staring out at the street below, watching the people passing by. The day was winding down, the sky fading into hues of orange and pink, and yet, the man’s sharp eyes lingered in your mind.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much about a stranger. It was just a passing moment—nothing more. You had far more important things to focus on, like taking care of the children and making sure everything ran smoothly for the household. That man, whoever he was, wasn’t part of your world.

But still, something in the back of your mind whispered that you’d see him again. And the thought of it didn’t exactly bother you.

---

The next few days were a blur of your usual routine. The children kept you busy, and you barely had a moment to yourself. But even as you went through the motions of your daily life, you couldn't help but feel that sense of something—or someone—waiting.

It was on a brisk afternoon, a few days after your encounter at the shop, when you found yourself running errands again. The streets were busier than usual, with carriages clattering over the cobblestones and people bustling past in a hurry. You had a long list of things to pick up, and the thought of weaving through the crowded market already had you dreading the trip.

As you made your way through the streets, you spotted a familiar figure standing at the corner near a fruit stand. The man from the shop. He hadn’t seen you yet, but something about the way he stood, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, watching the passersby with a quiet intensity, made you pause.

You debated for a moment. Should you approach him? Or would it seem too forward?

Before you could decide, his gaze lifted, and he spotted you. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you.

You took a deep breath and made your way over, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Fancy seeing you here again," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached.

"Didn’t expect to run into you either," he replied, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of something in his tone. Amusement? Interest? You couldn’t quite place it.

"I was just running errands," you said, gesturing to the market behind you. "You know how it is."

He nodded, his eyes flicking over you for a moment before landing back on the crowd. "Yeah, I get it."

There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it almost felt... familiar. Like talking to him wasn’t so strange after all.

"Are you from around here?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head. "Not really. Just passing through."

"Do you always pass through toy shops when you're in town?"

His lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Only when I feel like it."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "Mysterious, aren’t you?"

He shrugged, not giving much away. "Maybe."

You were about to ask him something else when a shout came from behind you. You turned to see one of the street vendors, an older man, calling out angrily at a young boy who had clearly tried to swipe an apple from his cart.

Before you could even react, the man next to you stepped forward. His movements were quick and fluid, like he was used to handling situations like this. He reached the boy before the vendor could get too close, gripping the kid by the collar.

"Hey," the man said, his voice low but firm. "That’s not how you do things."

The boy froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to be caught so quickly.

"Put it back," the man ordered.

The boy, trembling slightly, dropped the apple back onto the cart. "I’m sorry!" he blurted out before scurrying off into the crowd.

You watched as the man exchanged a few words with the vendor, calming him down before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.

"You didn’t have to do that," you said, surprised by how quickly he had handled the situation.

He shrugged again. "The kid’ll learn his lesson. Better this way than the other options."

You looked at him, a little more curious now. He wasn’t just some rough-around-the-edges stranger. There was something deeper to him, something that made you want to know more.

“I don’t think I caught your name the other day,” you settled on, meeting his eyes as the energy of the crowd buzzed around you both.

He gave a small nod, like he was considering whether to answer or not. "Logan," he said simply.

"Logan," you repeated, trying the name on your tongue. It suited him, rough around the edges but solid. "I’m Y/N."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave another slight nod, acknowledging it. The silence between you wasn’t heavy, but it felt like something unspoken passed through the space. Something that told you he wasn’t just another passerby in your life.

"Thanks for helping that kid back there," you said, breaking the quiet. "Not everyone would step in like that."

Logan shrugged like it was nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Not a big deal."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You do that a lot? Play the hero?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was enough. "No. Just don't like seeing people get hurt when I can do something about it."

There was a gruffness to his words, but it didn’t feel forced. It felt real. And it was clear that he wasn’t the type to go around explaining himself to anyone. You liked that.

"Well, either way, it was good of you." You glanced down at the parcels in your arms, suddenly remembering the rest of your errands. "I should probably get going, before I’m late getting back."

Logan gave you a small nod, his eyes flicking down to your parcels. "You take care."

You hesitated, a part of you not wanting to walk away just yet. But what could you say? You didn’t know this man, not really, and yet you felt drawn to him in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he had been through more than he let on. Or maybe it was the quiet strength in him that made you feel oddly safe.

"Maybe I’ll see you around?" you offered, not wanting to make the goodbye feel so final.

Logan’s eyes met yours again, and for a moment, there was something softer in his gaze. "Yeah. Maybe."

With that, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave, weaving your way through the bustling street. As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance back once, just to see if he was still there. He was, standing where you left him, watching you go.

---

The following days fell back into your usual routine—taking care of the children, running errands, keeping the household in order. Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Something about him lingered in your mind, and it wasn’t just because he had helped out that kid. There was something deeper, something you couldn’t quite shake.

You found yourself wondering if he really was just passing through, or if there was more to his story than he was letting on. You didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did.

One afternoon, as you were helping Ada tie the ribbon on her new dress, she looked up at you with her big, curious eyes.

"Y/N, are you thinking about something?" she asked innocently.

You blinked, surprised. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you’re smiling," she said, her voice soft and sweet.

You hadn’t even realized. "Oh," you said, chuckling softly. "I guess I was just lost in thought."

Ada giggled, her small hands playing with the ribbon you had just tied. "You think about a lot of things."

"That’s because I have to keep track of all you rascals," you teased, tickling her side gently.

She squealed in delight, wriggling away from you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. But as you settled back into the moment, that same thought returned, uninvited. Logan. Would you see him again?

---

It wasn’t long before the answer came.

You were out in the market again, picking up some fresh bread for dinner. The smell of the bakery wafted through the air, warm and comforting. You had just handed over your coins to the baker when you felt that familiar presence—something just outside the edge of your awareness, like a shadow that suddenly moved.

Turning slightly, your eyes caught sight of Logan standing near a fruit cart, his hands in his pockets, watching you. It wasn’t a surprise this time, but your heart still gave a little flutter at the sight of him. You made your way over, the crowd parting as you walked.

"Logan," you greeted, a smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.

"Y/N," he replied, nodding in acknowledgment. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something almost... pleased in his eyes. Like he had expected you to come over.

"Still passing through?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced around the busy street before answering. "Seems like I’ve been here longer than I planned."

"Any reason for that?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, like he was debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason."

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it go. Instead, you gestured to the bread in your basket. "If you’re still around tomorrow, you should come by the park. I take the children there sometimes in the afternoons. It’s quieter than here."

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, considering. "Maybe I will."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his answer. It was small, but it was something.

"Well," you said, shifting the basket on your arm. "I should get back before the boys tear the house down."

Logan smirked at that, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of it. He wasn’t a man who smiled easily, but when he did, it felt like a reward.

"Take care," he said, his voice low and steady, and you couldn’t help but notice how those words made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

As you walked away, the warmth of his gaze stayed with you, lingering long after you’d turned the corner.

---

The next day, you found yourself at the park, just as you had promised. Edwin and Phillip were racing around, laughing as they chased each other, while Ada sat quietly by your side, her doll clutched in her hands.

You tried not to look around for Logan, but you couldn’t help it. Every time someone passed by, your heart gave a little jump, only to settle back down when you realized it wasn’t him.

Just as you were beginning to think he wouldn’t show, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

"Mind if I join you?" Logan’s voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you smile.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Not at all."

Logan gave a nod, lowering himself onto the bench beside you. He stretched his long legs out, looking completely at ease. The sounds of the children’s laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you just sat in companionable silence.

“Boys giving you trouble?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“They always do,” you replied, watching as Edwin tackled Phillip to the ground. “But I think they’d explode if they didn’t.”

Logan’s lips twitched at that—almost a smile. “Kids’ll do that. Got too much energy.”

You tilted your head, studying him out of the corner of your eye. “You got siblings?”

Logan paused for a second, like the question had caught him off guard. “Yeah. A brother.”

You didn’t press, sensing there was more to the story but knowing better than to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to the children.

“Do you have any?” Logan asked, nodding toward the boys.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I look after them for the family I work for. They keep me busy, though. Might as well be mine.”

He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, resting his elbows on his knees.

“And her?” Logan nodded toward Ada, who sat a little apart from the boys, her doll tucked protectively in her arms.

“That’s Ada,” you said, smiling softly. “She’s the quiet one. A little sweet thing, really.”

“She’s got good taste,” Logan remarked, glancing at the doll in her hands.

You chuckled. “That was the least I could do for her. Life’s not exactly fun in that house.”

Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. “It never is.”

You frowned, catching the weight behind his words, but before you could ask what he meant, Ada wandered over to you. She gave Logan a curious glance but stayed close by your side.

“Who’s he?” Ada whispered, gripping your sleeve.

You smiled. “This is Logan. He’s a friend.”

Logan gave her a small nod, and Ada, ever cautious, just stared at him with wide eyes. After a beat, she leaned in close to you and whispered, “He looks like a bear.”

You tried—really tried—not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Logan gave a low chuckle of his own, shaking his head slightly.

“Smart kid,” he murmured.

Ada, encouraged by your laughter, gave a shy smile. Then she wandered back toward the boys, apparently satisfied with Logan’s presence.

“She’s got you figured out,” you teased, grinning.

Logan’s expression softened just a bit, and he gave a small shrug. “Kids see things plain.”

You leaned back on the bench, letting yourself relax. It was strange, how easy it felt to be around him. You didn’t know much about him—hardly anything, really—but something about Logan made you feel like you didn’t need to fill the silence with useless conversation.

“Do you ever stop moving?” you asked suddenly, curious. “You said you were just passing through, but it seems like you’ve stayed a bit longer.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the park, his expression thoughtful.

“Sometimes,” he said finally. “Not often, though.”

“That sounds lonely.”

His jaw twitched slightly, and he turned his head to look at you. “You get used to it.”

You held his gaze for a moment, sensing that there was more beneath the surface than he was letting on. But instead of prying, you just nodded, accepting his words for what they were.

“Well, if you ever feel like staying in one place for a bit, you know where to find me,” you said lightly.

Logan’s eyes flickered with something—something you couldn’t quite name—but he gave a small nod, like he was filing that thought away.

“Appreciate it,” he murmured.

Before you could say more, Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, out of breath and covered in dirt.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Edwin shouted. “Phillip said he could run faster than me, but I totally won!”

Phillip scowled, wiping mud off his cheek. “Only because you pushed me.”

“You pushed him?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Edwin.

Edwin squirmed. “Not that hard.”

Logan snorted quietly, drawing both boys’ attention. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Who’s that?” Edwin whispered loudly, leaning closer to you.

“That’s Logan,” you said. “He’s a friend.”

Edwin tilted his head, squinting up at Logan. “You look tough.”

Logan’s lips twitched. “I get that a lot.”

“Can you fight?” Edwin asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up. “Like—like really fight?”

“Edwin!” you scolded, but Logan just gave a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “A bit.”

“Whoa!” Edwin’s jaw dropped, clearly impressed. Phillip, more cautious, stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Logan like he was trying to figure him out.

“Alright, enough of that,” you said, gently ushering the boys away. “Go play before I make you help with dinner.”

Edwin groaned but dragged Phillip along, the two of them running back toward the trees.

You glanced at Logan, shaking your head. “You’ve got yourself some new fans, it seems.”

Logan huffed softly. “Kids are alright.”

There was a pause, and then you asked quietly, “You really do keep moving, don’t you?”

Logan looked at you, his expression serious. “Yeah.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. There was something in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than most—more than you could probably imagine.

“Well,” you said softly, “if you ever get tired of running, you know where to find me.”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

---

You saw Logan more often than not. Truth be told, you enjoyed his presence. He was different than the other men you had met, not as harsh, didn’t look down on you, or see you as an object.

One day, while walking around the market with a small basket, filled with a few apples and some bread, you looked at a carriage, rolling along the brick road with a horse in front.

“I never learned how to ride a horse,” you said, glancing at the carriage as it rolled along the cobblestone street. The words came out before you even knew why you said them, maybe just filling the space between you and Logan.

Logan, walking beside you, gave you a sidelong glance. The faintest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”

You shrugged, shifting the basket in your hand. “Never had a reason to, I suppose. And it’s not exactly something you pick up living in the city.”

He made a low noise in his throat that could have been agreement. For a moment, the two of you walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the market buzzing around you—vendors calling out, the clip-clop of hooves, the soft rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.

“Wouldn’t take much to learn,” Logan said finally, his voice easy. “Reckon you’d be good at it.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “How would you know?”

Logan gave a lazy shrug. “Just a guess.”

There was something in his tone, though—something soft and amused that made your cheeks warm. You glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a stall selling ribbons, though your attention kept drifting back to Logan.

“You know how to ride, then?” you asked after a moment, keeping your tone casual.

He nodded. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Here and there,” he answered vaguely, though not unkindly. You got the sense that there was a lot more to the story—things he wasn’t ready to share. And maybe things you weren’t quite ready to ask about. Not yet, anyway.

“Would you teach me?” you asked on impulse, surprising even yourself.

Logan glanced over, one brow raised, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a small nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Sure,” he said simply.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.

“When?” you pressed, feeling strangely excited by the idea.

Logan thought for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. “Next Sunday,” he decided. “There’s a place just outside the city. I know a guy who’s got a couple of good horses.”

You felt a flicker of doubt—after all, you had responsibilities, and it wasn’t as though you could just abandon the children for the day. But Logan must have noticed your hesitation because he gave you a reassuring look.

“Bring the kids,” he offered. “They can run wild while you learn.”

That made you laugh softly. “You really think I can keep up with them and learn to ride a horse?”

Logan’s lips twitched. “I’ll handle the boys if they get out of hand.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I’ve handled worse,” Logan said with a grin that made your stomach do an odd little flip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, a vendor called out, advertising fresh apples, and you were drawn toward the stall. Logan followed at a leisurely pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

You picked a couple of apples, inspecting them before adding them to your basket. As you handed a coin to the vendor, you glanced at Logan again.

“Next Sunday, then?” you asked, as if you still needed confirmation.

Logan gave a small nod. “Next Sunday.”

Something about the way he said it—calm and certain—made you believe it would actually happen. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something.

---

The boys were already running rampant in the large field, their shouts of laughter echoing across the open space. You could see Edwin trying to race Phillip again, their legs kicking up dirt as they charged back and forth. Ada, ever the quiet one, sat nearby on a stack of hay, her doll in her lap, watching them with a little smile on her face.

You stood near the horses, feeling a flutter of nervous energy in your stomach. Logan was beside you, calm as always, holding the reins of a chestnut mare with an ease that made it all look far simpler than you knew it was. He glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching yours, and you could see the trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, nodding toward the horse.

You swallowed, staring up at the mare. “Sure. How hard can it be?”

Logan gave a quiet laugh, clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”

He held the reins steady, motioning for you to come closer. You did, taking a deep breath as you placed your hand on the saddle. The horse shifted slightly, and you jumped back a little, making Logan chuckle again.

“She’s not gonna bite,” he said, his voice low and amused.

“I know that,” you muttered, embarrassed but trying not to show it. “I just wasn’t ready.”

Logan gave a small shrug, stepping around to stand beside you. “C’mon. Foot in the stirrup. I’ll help you up.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. Grabbing hold of the saddle, you placed your foot in the stirrup just like he’d told you, and then you felt Logan’s hand on your waist, firm and steady. With one swift movement, he lifted you up onto the horse, and suddenly you were sitting much higher than you’d expected.

You gripped the reins tightly, your heart racing a little.

“There,” Logan said, standing back with his arms crossed. He looked up at you, giving a small nod of approval. “Not bad.”

You glanced down at him, a bit breathless. “I’m on the horse, but that doesn’t mean I can ride it.”

Logan smirked. “One step at a time, darlin’.”

He moved around to grab the reins, keeping his voice low and calm as he spoke to the mare, guiding her gently in a slow circle around the field. You held on, trying to keep yourself steady in the saddle. It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but every time the horse took a step, you felt your stomach flip a little.

Logan kept walking beside you, close enough that you could hear him, though his voice was quiet. “You’re doin’ fine.”

“I feel ridiculous,” you muttered, glancing over at the boys to make sure they weren’t watching. Of course, they were, but they seemed more interested in their own games than in you wobbling around on a horse.

“You look fine,” Logan said, and there was something in his tone that made you glance at him sharply.

His eyes flickered up toward yours for just a moment, and you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks again. You looked away quickly, trying to focus on staying upright.

“You’re just sayin’ that,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Logan chuckled. “No. If you looked ridiculous, I’d tell you.”

The confidence in his voice made you smile despite yourself. You loosened your grip on the reins just a little, letting yourself relax. The horse moved steadily beneath you, her pace slow and even, and after a few moments, you realized it wasn’t so bad after all.

“You ready to try it on your own?” Logan asked, his voice easy.

You blinked. “You think I’m ready?”

“Yeah.” He handed the reins over to you, stepping back a little. “Just keep her steady. She’s not gonna take off on you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and gripping the reins tightly as you urged the horse forward. She responded, moving into a gentle walk, and you felt a little thrill of pride. Logan walked beside you for a few more steps, watching, but then he stopped, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you guide the horse around the field on your own.

“You’re a natural,” he called out, a grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more confident now. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

As you circled back around toward him, you slowed the horse, bringing her to a stop in front of Logan. He looked up at you, his eyes warm and approving.

“Told ya,” he said. “Not so hard, is it?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not as hard as I thought.”

Logan reached up, taking the reins from your hands. “C’mon. Let’s get you down.”

This part felt a little trickier, but Logan was there, steadying you as you swung your leg over the saddle and slid down. His hands were firm on your waist again, and for just a moment, you were standing close enough to catch the scent of leather and something else—something distinctly Logan.

“Thanks,” you said softly, looking up at him.

Logan’s eyes held yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then he gave a small nod, stepping back.

“Anytime,” he said, his voice low.

Before you could say anything else, the boys came running over, breathless and wild from their playing. Edwin looked up at the horse, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Can I ride next?” he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.

You glanced at Logan, raising an eyebrow. “You said you’d handle them if they got out of hand, remember?”

Logan sighed, giving you a wry smile. “Yeah, I remember.”

He looked at Edwin, then nodded toward the horse. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As Logan helped Edwin onto the horse, you stepped back, watching with a small smile. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. You glanced at Ada, who was still sitting on the haystack, her doll in her arms, watching the scene with quiet interest.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let yourself enjoy moments like this.

As Logan guided Edwin around the field, you found yourself watching him more than the horse. There was something about the way he moved—strong, sure, like he belonged here, like he was more comfortable in this quiet, open space than anywhere else.

And as he turned, catching your eye for just a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d found something here worth staying for.

---

“You ever think about gettin’ outta the city?” Logan asked, his voice low. “Findin’ somewhere quieter?”

You glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. “I’ve thought about it. But… I’ve got responsibilities.”

Logan nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he stared out at the horizon. “Yeah. Responsibilities.”

The way he said it made you wonder if he was thinking about something—or someone—far away. You’d learned quickly that Logan wasn’t one to talk much about his past, and though you were curious, you didn’t push.

You turned a jar of honey over in your hand, Mr. Thomas had asked you to buy them another jar while you were out. “If I didn’t have responsibilities, I’d like to live out in a cabin, away from everything else. Sometimes things here are noisy. I’d just like to… I don’t know, exist without worryin’ about anything.”

Logan, standing beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, gave a small grunt of agreement. "Sounds nice."

You glanced at him, curious. "You ever think about it? Leaving the city behind, finding a quiet spot somewhere?"

Logan paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Sometimes."

The simplicity of his answer hung in the air between you, and for a second, you wondered if he'd actually let himself think about settling down. It seemed unlikely, given how much he kept moving, but there was something in the way he said it, something almost wistful.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who stays in one place for too long," you teased, shifting the basket in your hand as you handed the vendor a coin for the honey.

Logan shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Guess not."

You both fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking through the market. The streets bustled with people, but somehow, with Logan by your side, it all felt a little less overwhelming. You didn't have to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. He wasn’t like the others in the city—constantly rushing, looking for something to gain. He just… existed, like you wanted to.

As you passed by a small stall selling flowers, you slowed down, your eyes catching on a bouquet of wildflowers that reminded you of something you'd see out in the countryside. Logan noticed, his eyes following your gaze.

"You like those?" he asked, nodding toward the flowers.

You smiled softly. "Yeah. They remind me of… I don’t know, freedom, I guess."

Logan gave a small chuckle. "Freedom, huh?"

You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little silly. "I know it sounds strange. It’s just… being stuck in the city all the time, I don’t get to see much of the world outside these streets."

He didn’t laugh or brush it off like most people would have. Instead, Logan looked at you for a moment, his expression serious.

"Maybe one day," he said quietly, "you’ll get that cabin. Find some peace."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat, but before you could respond, a commotion erupted a few stalls down. Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, laughing and out of breath, their hands full of something they clearly weren’t supposed to have.

"Y/N!" Edwin shouted, holding up a small sack of apples. "Look what we got!"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "And how exactly did you 'get' those?"

Phillip, ever the quieter one, shifted nervously on his feet. "We didn’t steal them! Mr. Turner gave them to us after we helped him with his cart."

You glanced over to where Mr. Turner, a kind old man who often sold apples at the market, was smiling and waving in your direction.

"Alright," you said, sighing with relief. "But you’d better not be causing any trouble."

Logan chuckled under his breath, watching the boys with amusement. "They’re just having fun."

"Yeah, until someone gets hurt," you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile at their excitement.

Edwin, noticing Logan for the first time, grinned. "Hey, Logan! You ever been in a real fight?"

Logan smirked, glancing at you before turning back to the boys. "A couple."

Edwin’s eyes lit up. "Tell us about one!"

"Edwin," you warned, shaking your head. "Logan doesn’t have time to tell you all his stories."

But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He crouched down to the boys’ level, his expression serious as he spoke in that low, gravelly voice of his.

"Alright, but just one. There was this guy… big, tough-looking fella, thought he could take me down. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He comes at me with this huge stick, thinking that’ll be enough."

Edwin and Phillip leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word.

"So, what happened?" Edwin asked, barely able to contain himself.

Logan’s smirk deepened. "Let’s just say, he learned real quick not to mess with me."

The boys erupted into laughter, completely captivated by the idea of Logan taking down some big, burly guy.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. "You’re gonna give them ideas, you know."

Logan stood, shrugging casually. "Kids need a little excitement."

"Not too much," you muttered, though you were grateful for the way he interacted with them. Most men in the city didn’t have the patience for children, especially not boys as wild as Edwin and Phillip.

As the boys ran off again, Logan glanced over at you, his expression softening just a bit.

"They look up to you," he said quietly.

You looked down, shrugging. "They’re good kids. Just need someone to look after them."

Logan was quiet for a moment, watching the boys as they disappeared into the crowd. Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned back to you.

"You ever think about having your own?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You hadn’t really thought about it—not seriously, anyway. Your life was too full of other people’s children, other people’s problems.

"I don’t know," you said slowly, glancing up at him. "Maybe someday. If I ever get that cabin, I might think about it."

Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything more. He just walked beside you, the two of you falling back into that easy, comfortable silence.

It wasn’t until later, as you lay in bed that night, that you found yourself thinking about his question again. The idea of a quiet life, away from the noise and chaos of the city, didn’t seem so impossible anymore—not when you imagined Logan there with you.

---

One night, after you had put the boys to sleep and were in Ada’s room to read a story to her, she asked you a question. “Why aren’t you like mama and papa?”

You raised your head from the book you were reading to her, “what do you mean?”

Her lips formed a small pout, “mama has papa, but you don’t have anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by Ada’s question. Her innocent curiosity made your heart ache, but you kept your voice steady.

“Well, sweetie,” you started, trying to find the right words, “sometimes, people are just on their own for a little while. It doesn’t mean they won’t find someone. Maybe they just haven’t yet.”

Ada considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. “But you’re so nice. Why doesn’t anyone love you?”

The simplicity of the question stung more than it should have. You chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not that simple, Ada. But thank you for saying that.”

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, her tiny face still scrunched up in confusion. “Don’t you get lonely?”

You hesitated, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The truth was, sometimes you did. Even though you were surrounded by people—taking care of the children, managing the house—you couldn’t deny that feeling creeping in every now and then.

“I have you, don’t I?” you finally said, smiling down at her. “And Edwin and Phillip. You three keep me pretty busy.”

Ada giggled softly at that, settling into her blankets. “I guess. But I think you should find someone, like mama did.”

You gave her a light kiss on the forehead, smoothing down her hair. “Maybe one day, kiddo.”

Ada yawned, her eyes drooping as sleep crept up on her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Ada,” you whispered, watching her drift off. You stayed there for a moment longer, thinking about her words, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The house was silent as you made your way down the hall, but your mind was anything but. Her innocent question stirred something inside of you, a longing that you hadn’t let yourself fully acknowledge. It wasn’t like you to dwell on what you didn’t have, but maybe… maybe Ada was right. Maybe there was something missing.

But it wasn’t something you could focus on right now. You had responsibilities. This family depended on you, and that was enough for now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

As you reached your room and closed the door behind you, you caught sight of the bouquet of wildflowers Logan had quietly bought earlier in the day. You hadn’t noticed him purchase them at the market, but when you returned to the house, they were there on the doorstep, a small note attached that simply read, Thought you’d like these.

You smiled to yourself, gently picking up the flowers and placing them in a vase by the window. You hadn’t thought much about having someone of your own, but as you looked at the flowers, you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like.

And, for the first time in a long while, the idea didn’t seem so far away.

---

The next few days passed quietly, with Logan visiting you at the market more frequently, though neither of you mentioned the wildflowers. There was an unspoken understanding between you—neither of you rushed things, but the connection was undeniably growing.

One afternoon, as you sat outside with Ada on your lap, reading her a story, Logan appeared at the gate. The children spotted him first, of course, and Edwin ran over, grinning ear to ear.

“Logan! You’re back!” he shouted, tugging at Logan’s coat. “Did you bring us any stories?”

Logan gave a soft grunt, glancing over at you with a smirk. “I might have one or two left.”

You shook your head, amused. “They’ll never leave you alone if you keep telling them stories, you know.”

Logan crouched down, ruffling Edwin’s hair. “I don’t mind,” he said, his gaze softening as he glanced at Ada in your lap. “How’re you doin’, kid?”

Ada looked up from the book and smiled shyly, giving him a small wave. “Hi, Logan.”

He smiled, the sight of the children always easing something in him, though he didn’t let it show too much.

As the kids ran off to play, Logan took a seat beside you on the bench. The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the children chase each other across the yard.

“They’re good kids,” Logan said finally, breaking the quiet.

“They are,” you agreed. “They’ve got a lot of love to give, and not always enough people around to give it to.”

Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes studying you. “That include you?”

You looked down, fidgeting with your skirt. “Maybe. I spend so much time looking after everyone else, sometimes I forget there’s more to life than just… this.”

Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly. Then, his voice low, he asked, “You ever think about finding something more?”

You turned to him, surprised by the question. “I don’t know if I’ve let myself think that far ahead,” you admitted, your heart beating a little faster under his gaze.

Logan looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was holding something back. “Maybe you should.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a pull—a possibility of something beyond the life you’d built here. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to dream about until now.

But before either of you could say more, the children’s laughter echoed through the yard, and the moment passed. Still, the feeling stayed with you long after Logan left that evening.

---

The sky had taken on that soft orange hue of evening, the kind that made the whole world feel suspended between day and night. You and Logan walked side by side along the Hudson River, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore mixing with the distant hum of the city. It had become your routine over the past few weeks, these evening walks—quiet, almost intimate, even though neither of you said much.

Today, though, something felt different. Logan had been quieter than usual, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the fading sunlight. Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

Logan nodded, though his expression didn’t quite match the motion. “Yeah, just… thinkin’.”

“About?”

He stopped walking, turning to face the river. You followed his gaze, watching the way the sun’s reflection danced on the surface of the water. After a long moment, he spoke.

“I’ve never really… had this before,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Y’know, just… bein’ with someone like this. Feels kinda strange.”

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, close enough that your arm brushed against his. “Strange in a good way?”

Logan let out a short, almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah. In a good way.”

The two of you stood there, side by side, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You could feel the warmth of his presence, his arm just barely touching yours, and it sent a small thrill through you. You hadn’t been sure at first if what you felt for Logan was mutual—he was quiet, reserved, hard to read—but moments like this, when the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, made it clear. There was something unspoken between you, something neither of you had dared to put into words.

After a while, you turned to face him, studying the way his brow was furrowed, like he was deep in thought.

“Logan,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with something unsaid.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers slipping into his. Logan stiffened at the touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hands were joined, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he stepped closer, his fingers curling around yours, holding on a little tighter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual guarded expression cracking just enough to let something more vulnerable show through. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words, but then decided words weren’t necessary.

Instead, he took a small step forward, his free hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face. His touch was warm, rough, but there was a surprising tenderness in the way his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the second your lips met his, something inside you seemed to melt, and you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Logan responded in kind, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you closer, the space between you disappearing entirely.

For a moment, it was just the two of you—the sound of the river fading away, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Logan’s lips against yours, the feel of his hand cradling your face like you were something precious.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other as you stood there, wrapped in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. “Didn’t think I’d be kissin’ you tonight.”

You laughed softly, still a little breathless. “Neither did I.”

He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as he held you against him. The two of you stood there in the fading light, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the river momentarily forgotten.

---

Logan thought back to your conversation about living in a cabin more than he cared to admit. The thought of it seemed nice, peaceful, and dare he say it perfect.

After a few weeks of being together, Logan had made a decision and scrounged up any money he could before buying a modest ring from a jeweler. He wasn’t going to propose yet but carrying the ring in his pocket felt right.

He had been coming over to the Thomases’ sprawling estate more often, whether it was walking with you from the market to the large house or even just stopping by of his own will. At first, it had been an occasional thing—a quiet visit here, a quick walk there—but lately, Logan found himself looking for excuses just to be around. You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him made him feel something unfamiliar, something good.

One late afternoon, Logan leaned against the garden gate, watching as you knelt by a row of flowers, tending to them with your usual care. He couldn’t help but admire the sight—your sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a small smile on your lips as you worked. It made something in his chest tighten. He fingered the ring in his pocket, feeling its weight. He had no plan to use it anytime soon, but carrying it felt right, like a promise to himself.

You glanced up, catching his eye, and smiled, wiping your hands on your apron as you stood. "Back again, Logan?"

"Guess so," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you might need a hand."

"Well, I could always use one," you teased, stepping closer to him. "But you don’t strike me as the gardening type."

Logan chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, pulling you a little closer. "Not much of a gardener, no. But I can stand here and look good while you do all the work."

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t let go of his hand. The easy banter between you had become natural, and the affection between you had grown, unspoken but undeniable. After a moment, you tugged him toward a bench under a nearby tree.

“Sit with me for a minute,” you said softly. “I’ve been out here all day.”

He followed, sitting beside you as the evening breeze rustled the leaves above. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the warm light catching the curve of your face.

“You ever think this is enough?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Logan hesitated, his fingers still laced with yours. “Just… this. Bein’ together. Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think it is enough,” you said after a moment. “I like this, Logan. I like us.”

His heart beat a little faster at your words, and without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It wasn’t a big gesture, but it felt natural, like something he’d been wanting to do for a while. You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, your lips curving into a gentle smile.

“You keep that up, and I’m never gonna let you go,” you teased, though there was something softer, almost serious, in your tone.

Logan smirked, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. “Don’t see a reason to.”

Your fingers traced absent patterns on the back of his hand, your touch light and thoughtful. “You know, I used to wonder if I’d ever feel this way about someone,” you admitted softly, your eyes focused on your hands. “If I’d ever meet someone who made me feel… like this.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, watching you, feeling the warmth of your words settle deep inside him. He’d never thought he’d find someone who made him feel like this either—like he didn’t have to keep moving, like maybe he’d found something worth staying for. He wanted to tell you that, to say what he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he squeezed your hand, hoping you’d understand what he couldn’t say yet.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you, the pull, was undeniable. Logan leaned in, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, tender, like both of you were taking your time, savoring the moment. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and for a second, the world outside the garden didn’t exist.

“I could stay like this forever,” you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.

Logan’s hand tightened on yours. “Maybe we will,” he murmured back, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You smiled, your eyes soft as you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. When you pulled back this time, you didn’t say anything, just settled into his side, your head resting against his chest as the two of you watched the sky shift into shades of pink and orange.

The world outside may have been complicated, full of responsibilities and noise, but here, with Logan beside you, it felt simple. Peaceful. Like this was all that mattered.

---

One late afternoon, you were sitting on the porch with Ada and the boys, telling them stories while they played at your feet. Logan leaned against the fence, watching you from a distance, his heart swelling at the sight of you surrounded by the children, laughing and carefree.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ serious,” your voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. You stood up, walking over to him, a teasing smile on your face.

Logan shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinkin’ about how you handle those kids like it’s nothin’.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Trust me, it’s something. They’re a handful.”

Logan smiled, reaching out to take your hand. “You’re good at it. I like watchin’ you with them.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment, and you glanced down, trying to hide the small smile playing at your lips. “Well, you’re not so bad with them yourself. Edwin won’t stop talking about that story you told him.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Kid’s got a wild imagination.”

You leaned in closer, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. “Maybe he gets that from you.”

He smirked, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “Think so?”

“I know so,” you whispered, your breath brushing against his neck.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Logan’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

When he pulled back, your eyes were half-closed, your expression soft and content. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we doing?”

He looked at you, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. “Doin’ what feels right.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah. It does feel right.”

The sound of the children’s laughter broke the quiet moment between you, and you both turned to see Ada running toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could. “Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted, her face flushed with excitement. “Come play with us!”

You laughed, pulling away from Logan just enough to crouch down and catch Ada in your arms. “Alright, alright! I’m coming.”

As you stood, you glanced back at Logan, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a smile, and you turned back to the children, running off with them into the yard.

Logan watched you for a while longer, his hand slipping into his pocket where the small ring rested. It wasn’t time yet, but someday, maybe he’d ask. Someday, when the moment was right.

For now, this was enough.

And for the first time in his life, that was all Logan wanted.

---

“Mrs. Thomas is sick. She wanted me to pick up some things for her before the doctor comes to check her out,” you explained, adding a sprig of thyme to your basket and handing the vendor a coin.

Logan stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a casual ease that had become second nature to him. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, though his tone wasn’t heavy—just curious.

You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Probably just a cold. She’s been coughing a bit, but Mr. Thomas thinks she’ll be fine.”

Logan’s jaw ticked slightly, his eyes following the movement of your hand as it tucked the hair behind your ear. “You sure you should be around her if she’s sick?”

You smiled at his concern, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “It’s part of the job, Logan. Besides, I’ve been with her every day. If I was going to get sick, it would’ve happened by now.”

He frowned, not entirely convinced, but let it drop. You were stubborn like that—always brushing things off when they concerned you.

As you moved from stall to stall, picking out fresh herbs, bread, and tea, Logan trailed beside you, a silent presence at your side. It was comfortable—natural, even. You could feel him close, his arm brushing yours now and then, and though neither of you said much, it was the kind of quiet that felt good.

When you handed the grocer a coin for a small loaf of bread, Logan’s voice broke the easy silence. “You want me to walk you back?”

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Trying to sneak more time with me?”

Logan grinned, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets. “Maybe.”

Your laugh was soft and warm, and Logan swore it was one of his favorite sounds.

“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no if you want to,” you teased, shifting the basket on your hip. “The Thomases live all the way across town, though.”

Logan rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Don’t mind.”

With that settled, the two of you set off toward the Thomases’ estate, falling into step beside each other. The streets bustled with the usual afternoon crowds—vendors hawking their goods, carts rattling down cobbled roads, children darting through the streets. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you existed in your own little world, insulated from the noise of the city.

“You been working much?” you asked after a moment, glancing sideways at him.

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Couple of odd jobs here and there.”

“Same ones?”

“Mostly.” He paused, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Not much call for a guy like me who’s no good with flowers.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy. “Well, I’m sure someone will take pity on you eventually.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours gently. “You already did.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. “Lucky you.”

The walk was long, but neither of you minded. You pointed out things along the way—shops you liked, shortcuts you’d found, little bits of the city you’d come to know well in your time working for the Thomases. Logan listened, his attention fixed on you, and though he didn’t say much, you could tell he was soaking up every word.

When the two of you reached the tall iron gates of the Thomases' estate, you hesitated, lingering just a bit longer with Logan at the edge of the garden.

“Thanks for walking me,” you said softly, your fingers brushing over his for the briefest second.

“Anytime,” he murmured, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes lingering on yours. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m fine, Logan. Just worried about Mrs. Thomas, I guess.”

He studied you for a beat longer, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of your hand. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

You gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. I will.”

Neither of you moved at first, as if caught in a moment you weren’t quite ready to let go of. Logan’s gaze flickered to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you—right there at the gate, with the late afternoon sun warming your skin and the scent of lavender drifting from the garden.

But instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.

“See you soon,” he murmured against your skin.

You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. “See you soon,” you whispered back.

Logan stepped away, his hands reluctantly slipping from yours, and you watched as he made his way back down the path. He didn’t look back, but somehow, you knew that he felt the same pull you did—the one that always seemed to draw you closer, no matter how far apart you were.

With a soft sigh, you turned and pushed open the gate, your basket swinging gently at your side as you made your way toward the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawn.

You didn’t know it yet, but the weight of that moment—of Logan’s hand in yours, of the way his kiss had felt against your skin—would stay with you. It would become one of those memories you’d carry in the quiet hours, long after everything had changed.

But for now, it was just another afternoon. And that was enough.

You slipped inside the Thomases’ estate, greeted by the familiar smell of baked bread and lavender from the garden. The children’s laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the unease you felt about Mrs. Thomas.

As you moved through the grand hallway, the weight of Logan’s lingering kiss on your temple stayed with you, soft and comforting. His presence, though absent now, always seemed to cling to the air around you like the warmth of a hearth after a long day.

“Y/N!” Edwin’s voice called from the top of the stairs. You looked up to find him peering down at you, his unruly curls falling into his eyes. “Can we go to the park after tea? Phillip says he can run faster than me, but I bet I’ll beat him this time.”

You smiled up at him, though your thoughts were still on Mrs. Thomas. “We’ll see about that, Edwin. But let’s check in on your mother first, alright?”

He nodded, though his face fell a little, understanding the importance of that moment.

Making your way to Mrs. Thomas’s room, you found the air heavier, a staleness clinging to it that made you pause at the door. You knocked softly before entering, the creak of the door barely disturbing the quiet. Mrs. Thomas lay in bed, propped up by pillows, her face pale and drawn. Her once vibrant eyes were duller now, and the small cough you had heard earlier seemed more persistent, rattling in her chest.

“Mrs. Thomas,” you said gently, approaching her bedside with the basket of fresh supplies. “I’ve brought some thyme and tea. The doctor will be here later this week.”

Mrs. Thomas offered a faint smile, though it barely touched her lips. “Thank you, dear. You’re always so thoughtful,” she said, her voice raspy. She shifted slightly, wincing at the effort it took. “I’m sure it’s just a little cold.”

You forced a smile, though something inside you tugged with worry. “Of course. Just a little cold.”

After a few more moments, you excused yourself, promising to return later. The house felt stifling, the sense of something being wrong making your chest tighten. Logan had been right to be concerned. But you brushed it aside, focusing on the children.

A few hours later, after Edwin had indeed beaten Phillip in a race through the park, and Ada had insisted on collecting wildflowers for her mother, the three children were settled with tea. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a familiar knock came at the back door.

Opening it, you found Logan leaning against the frame, that easy smile already softening the tension in your shoulders.

“Thought you might like some company,” he said, stepping inside and pulling you into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his arms around you instantly melted away the weight of the afternoon, and for a moment, you simply leaned into him, breathing him in.

“Good timing,” you murmured into his chest. “The kids are winding down for the night. Edwin’s convinced he’s going to be the fastest man in the world.”

Logan chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to challenge him one day.”

You smiled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “He’d love that.”

There was a beat of quiet as Logan’s hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering just under your jaw. His gaze softened, searching yours for something. It was moments like this—small, tender—that reminded you just how much you’d come to care for him in these past few weeks.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Just… worried about Mrs. Thomas. I don’t know, Logan, she seems worse than she’s letting on.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. “She’s tough, right? She’ll pull through.”

You nodded again, though the doubt lingered. “I hope so.”

Logan leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the weight of his presence anchoring you. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I will,” you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.

He pulled back just enough to catch your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was familiar, the way his mouth moved against yours—steady, comforting, with that undercurrent of longing that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface between you two. When you finally parted, his thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.

“I hate leaving you here,” he murmured, the frustration clear in his voice. “Especially with her sick.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, Logan. Go home, get some rest.”

He gave a small grunt, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving, but he knew better than to argue when you got like this—determined and stubborn.

With a sigh, he leaned in once more, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Alright. But I’m checking in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew at his protectiveness.

Logan gave you one last smile before turning to head back out into the night, his coat swaying as he disappeared into the shadows. You watched him go, the familiar tug in your chest pulling at you again, but this time it wasn’t just affection. It was worry—a gnawing sense of unease that had been creeping in since that afternoon in the market.

You stood there at the back door for a moment longer, staring into the empty street, wondering if Logan could feel it too—the quiet, unspoken fear that something was about to change.

---

The next few days passed quietly, the routine of the Thomases’ household carrying on as usual—though the coughs from Mrs. Thomas’s room seemed to grow more frequent, more strained. You tried not to think too much of it, telling yourself it was only a cold, that the doctor would sort it out when he came to visit. But there was a part of you, small but insistent, that couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at your thoughts.

The children kept you busy, of course. Edwin was endlessly energetic, challenging Phillip to races and daring Ada to climb the low trees in the garden, much to your chagrin. Ada, sweet and delicate, clung to your side like a shadow, her small hand often finding yours as she babbled on about her imaginary tea parties and grand adventures. In their presence, it was easy to forget the worry in the back of your mind—at least for a little while.

But then, in the quiet moments—like when you helped Mrs. Thomas to her bed after one of her coughing fits, or when the house seemed far too still after the children had fallen asleep—your thoughts would drift back to Logan. To the way he had kissed your forehead that day at the back door, how his hand had lingered in yours just a second longer than usual, as if he’d sensed it too. That something was wrong.

You found yourself waiting for him. Every evening, as the sun dipped low over the city and the shadows lengthened in the streets, you listened for that familiar knock at the back door. And every evening, without fail, he would come—never too late, never too early, always arriving when you needed him most.

Tonight was no different.

You were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a pot of tea cooling beside you, when the soft knock came. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, your heart lifting in that familiar way as you crossed the room and opened the door.

Logan stood there, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze, his expression soft but watchful. He gave you that crooked smile that always seemed to make everything feel lighter, as if the world wasn’t such a heavy place when he was around.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

You shrugged, the smile still playing on your lips. “Where else would I be?”

He chuckled, moving to lean against the counter, his eyes flicking briefly to the teapot on the table. “You drinking alone?”

“For now,” you teased, pouring him a cup. “But I suppose I can share.”

Logan took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in that familiar way, sending a small, warm spark through your skin. He didn’t move to sit, though. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read something in your face.

“What?” you asked softly, the weight of his stare making your heart flutter.

“Just checking in,” he said, his voice lower, more serious than before. “You look tired.”

You gave a small, weary laugh, shaking your head. “I’m fine, Logan. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Mrs. Thomas?” he guessed, sipping his tea.

You nodded, glancing at the floor. “She’s getting worse. I’m trying not to worry, but… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, and he set his cup down, moving to stand beside you. His hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your sleeve. “If you need me to do anything—get more medicine, fetch the doctor sooner—you just say the word.”

You met his gaze, your chest tightening at the concern etched into his face. He always made you feel safe, even when you didn’t want to admit how scared you were. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it gently.

“I know,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the sounds of the city muted by the walls of the house. You could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant hum of life outside, but here, in this small space, it felt like it was just the two of you. Just the two of you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.

Logan shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully, his other hand coming to rest at your waist. He tugged you closer, his expression softening as he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in that tender way that always made your heart skip. But this time, he didn’t stop there. He tilted your chin up gently, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“C’mere,” he whispered, and you didn’t need any more coaxing.

Your arms slid up around his neck, pulling him in as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was soft at first, tender, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a sense of urgency you hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the weight of the unspoken worry hanging between you, or maybe it was just that every time you kissed him, it felt like it could be the last. Either way, you melted into him, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands tightened around your waist as if he didn’t want to let you go.

When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling with his, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a long, slow sigh.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You hadn’t meant to say it, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone with your worries, of facing the uncertainty of Mrs. Thomas’s illness by yourself, suddenly felt unbearable.

Logan’s eyes opened, his gaze soft but searching as he studied your face. “You sure?”

You nodded, your hands still resting at the nape of his neck. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

He didn’t hesitate after that. With a soft, reassuring smile, he nodded and pressed another kiss to your temple. “Alright. I’m here.”

---

The doctor had come by some days later bringing by news, Mrs. Thomas had tuberculosis. He gave her at least another month to live.

Mr. Thomas had instructed you to not let the kids near her as often, to make sure they don’t get sick. He didn’t seem to care much about Logan spending the night with you, or letting the kids be around him.

Logan had been spending more nights with you, by your request. It wasn’t something you talked about, just a quiet understanding between the two of you. The nights felt warmer with him beside you, the weight of the world a little lighter when you could lean against him. He never made a big deal out of it either. It was just...natural.

Tonight was no different. You sat by the fire in the small parlor, the children long since asleep upstairs. The flicker of the flames cast shadows across the room, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, waiting for that familiar knock.

When it came, it was soft, almost hesitant. But you smiled, already rising to your feet to let him in. Logan stepped inside, brushing off the chill of the night as he shook the snow from his coat.

“Snow’s picking up out there,” he muttered, shrugging off the heavy coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d get here before it got too bad.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you watched him. “I’m glad you did.”

He crossed the room, and without another word, his arms wrapped around you. You melted into his chest, resting your head against him as the fire crackled in the hearth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand running down your back.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice low. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You sighed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s… everything with Mrs. Thomas, the kids… I’m trying to keep it together.”

Logan frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “You don’t have to do it all yourself. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you said softly. “But I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t,” he repeated, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here.”

That simple statement hit you harder than you expected. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as if he needed it as much as you did. It was slow and tender, and you found yourself pulling him closer, trying to forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment.

When you finally pulled back, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You should sleep,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted.”

“Will you stay?” you asked, your voice small.

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

---

The nights blurred together. Logan was there more often than not, sometimes waiting for you when you finished putting the children to bed, other times arriving late after a day spent working. You hadn’t asked where he went during the day, and he hadn’t volunteered the information. It didn’t matter. When he was with you, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

The children, especially Ada, had continued asking why she couldn’t see her mother as often. It had broke your heart to tell her and the boys that their mom was sick, not going any further than that.

“They’ll understand one day,” Logan had said, trying to comfort you as you sat by the fire one evening. His arm was around your shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

You nodded, but the heaviness in your chest wouldn’t lift.

“I just want to help,” you murmured. “But I can’t.”

Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. “You’re doing more than you think, Y/N. Just being here for the kids, for her... it matters.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. There was something in the way he looked at you, something deeper than the usual concern. It was a look that made your heart skip, that made you realize just how much he had become a part of your life in such a short time.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing that connection, needing him.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Logan’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his touch soothing.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, as if the words alone could make everything right.

And for a moment, they did.

---

You could tell that after a month and a half, Mrs. Thomas didn’t have much time left. Maybe a week at the most. She was so young, barely 30 years old, and already having to face the inevitable. Her coughing had become more violent, her body thinner with each passing day, and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. She was fading right before your eyes.

It had been a long day. The kids were more restless than usual, likely sensing the shift in the household. You’d spent most of the afternoon calming Edwin and Ada while trying to keep Phillip out of trouble. Ada, in particular, had been clingy, holding onto your skirt as you moved about the house, asking you why her mother wasn’t coming out of her room anymore.

You gave her the same answer as always. “Your mama’s just resting, sweetheart.”

But even she seemed to sense something was off.

By the time the sun had started to set, you felt the exhaustion in your bones. You barely touched your dinner, pushing food around your plate before giving up entirely. It wasn’t just the physical tiredness, though. It was something deeper. A strange ache in your chest, one you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the weight of everything—Mrs. Thomas’s worsening condition, the children, Logan...

You hadn’t seen him tonight, and that small part of you that had grown used to his presence felt the void acutely. He had a way of grounding you, of making everything seem less overwhelming, if only for a little while. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were beginning to rely on him more and more.

As you climbed the stairs to check on the children, your steps felt heavier than usual. Fatigue, you told yourself. Just fatigue.

When you entered Mrs. Thomas’s room to help her settle for the night, she gave you a weak smile. “Thank you, Y/N... for everything.”

You smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face as you helped her lie down. “Don’t mention it. You just rest.”

Her breathing was shallow, the sound rattling in her chest. You tried not to let it show on your face, but inside, that gnawing worry had grown into a full-fledged fear. You knew the end was coming soon. You just hoped the children wouldn’t have to watch her fade.

---

Later that night, after the house had fallen quiet and the children were asleep, you sat by the small fire in the kitchen. You stared at the flickering flames, trying to let the warmth chase away the chill in your bones, but it wasn’t working.

You weren’t surprised when you heard the soft knock at the back door. Logan’s timing had always been impeccable, showing up when you needed him most, even if you hadn’t called for him. You rose from your seat and opened the door, letting him in with a small, tired smile.

“Cold out there,” he muttered, brushing the snow from his shoulders before stepping inside. He took one look at your face, and his brows furrowed. “You look exhausted, Y/N.”

You waved him off, shutting the door behind him. “It’s been a long day. Mrs. Thomas is...”

He didn’t need you to finish. He’d been coming by enough to know how bad things had gotten.

Logan crossed the small space between you and placed a hand on your arm. “You should be resting too. When’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. “What is that again?”

“Y/N,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. “You can’t keep running yourself ragged. You’re no good to the kids if you get sick.”

His words hit a little too close to home. That lingering ache in your chest hadn’t gone away, and now, with him standing so close, it seemed to press harder, making it difficult to breathe. You ignored it, trying to focus on his warm hand still resting on your arm, grounding you.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, leaning against him just slightly. “I just... I need you here. That’s all.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as his warmth enveloped you. It felt like everything else faded away when you were in his arms—like the weight of the world wasn’t quite so heavy.

“I’m here,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just holding onto him, letting his presence soothe the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. His hands ran up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, and you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.

But that ache in your chest didn’t fade. If anything, it seemed to settle deeper, a dull, persistent throb that you couldn’t quite shake.

“I don’t know how much longer she has,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Maybe a week. And the kids... I don’t know how to explain it to them.”

Logan sighed, his breath warm against your hair. “You’ll find the right words when the time comes. You always do.”

You weren’t sure about that, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting against his chest. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see the same worry you felt reflected in his gaze. But there was something else too—something softer, something that made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could say anything, Logan leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—just gentle, like he was trying to tell you without words that he was there, that you didn’t have to carry everything alone.

You kissed him back, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him closer. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten. But when you finally pulled back, the ache in your chest flared again, sharper this time, making you wince slightly.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, concern flashing across his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing it off. “Just... tired, I guess.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he kissed your forehead softly, his hands still holding you close. “You need to sleep. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

You nodded, letting him lead you to your small bedroom. As you lay down, Logan settled beside you, his arm draped around your waist as he pulled you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body soothing, but even as you drifted off to sleep, that strange ache lingered, a quiet reminder that something wasn’t right.

---

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to cling to you like a heavy blanket. You told yourself it was just the stress, the worry about Mrs. Thomas and the kids. But the truth was, deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Mr. Thomas had been around the house more often, spending almost every moment with his wife before she passed. It would only be a matter of days now. Her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was barely conscious most of the time, her labored breathing a constant reminder of the inevitable.

You moved quietly through the house, keeping the children occupied as best you could. Edwin and Phillip were rambunctious as always, but Ada had grown more subdued. She didn’t ask about her mother as often, as if sensing the unspoken truth everyone was trying to shield her from. You noticed how she clung to your side even more than usual, her small hands gripping your skirts, her wide eyes watching you with a kind of quiet understanding that broke your heart.

It was late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. The children were playing in the parlor, their laughter muffled behind the closed doors. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion hit you. Your legs felt heavy, your chest tight. You hadn’t been sleeping well, the stress of Mrs. Thomas’s condition weighing on you, but this was different. Your appetite had been lacking for days, though you’d convinced yourself it was just nerves.

You leaned against the counter, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself. It would pass. You just needed rest.

Logan wasn’t due to visit tonight. He had mentioned something about work keeping him late, and you didn’t want to ask him to come by, though the ache in your chest—the one you tried to ignore—longed for his presence.

Shaking off the lingering fatigue, you made your way upstairs to check on Mrs. Thomas. As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard her soft, raspy breathing. You hesitated outside the door, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment, before slowly opening it and stepping inside.

Mr. Thomas sat at his wife’s bedside, holding her hand gently. He glanced up at you, his face pale and drawn, the exhaustion of weeks of worry evident in his eyes. You gave him a small, comforting smile, though you weren’t sure how much comfort you could offer.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and emotion. "For everything."

You nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to check on Mrs. Thomas. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She didn’t stir when you adjusted the blankets around her. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of sickness, and you fought the urge to cough, your throat suddenly dry.

“She’s peaceful,” you murmured softly, glancing at Mr. Thomas.

He nodded but didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on his wife, his hand never leaving hers.

You stayed for a moment longer, but the fatigue creeping up your spine forced you to excuse yourself. As you descended the stairs, your legs felt weaker than before, and a dull ache had settled in your chest. You rubbed absently at your throat, trying to shake off the discomfort. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just tired.

The evening stretched on, the children finally quieting down for bed. You tucked them in, lingering for a moment by Ada’s bedside. She reached for your hand, her tiny fingers curling around yours.

“Will Mama be better soon?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “She’s resting, sweetheart,” you said softly. “Just keep being brave, alright?”

Ada nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep, though the worry didn’t leave her small face.

Once they were all asleep, you returned downstairs, your body feeling heavier with each step. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You sat by the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, and let the silence of the house settle over you.

And then there was a soft knock at the back door.

Your heart lifted despite the exhaustion weighing you down. You rose slowly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Logan standing there, snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes scanning your face with concern.

“You look tired,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Really tired.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the weariness in your voice betrayed you. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I finished earlier than I thought,” he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d check on you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. For a moment, the ache in your chest seemed to ease, the fatigue lifting just a little.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he studied your face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I’m here.”

His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, and you felt the tension in your body begin to unravel. The warmth of his mouth, the familiar strength of his hands holding you close—it was all you needed in that moment. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“You need to rest,” he murmured. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I will,” you promised, though you didn’t want to leave his arms just yet. You leaned into him, letting his presence chase away the exhaustion for a little longer.

---

The funeral was only 6 days later, 4 days after Mrs. Thomas’ passing. She was buried at the Prospect Cemetery at a small affair with rich people you had only heard of in passing.

The funeral was a somber affair. Mrs. Thomas was laid to rest under a sky that threatened snow, and you stood a little ways back, holding Ada’s hand tightly. She had been unusually quiet since her mother’s passing, and even Edwin and Phillip had sensed the weight of the occasion, their usual energy tempered by the somber mood.

You glanced around at the crowd gathered—a sea of dark, expensive fabrics, murmured condolences, and familiar faces. Most of the people you recognized only by name or through brief encounters at the Thomas house. They didn’t seem to belong to the world you inhabited, their whispered conversations and distant gazes a reminder of the divide between their lives and yours.

Mr. Thomas stood near the front, his face a mask of stoicism as he accepted words of sympathy. His children had not left your side, and you knew why. They found more comfort in you than in the strangers who seemed to only appear during tragedies. You didn’t blame them.

As the ceremony came to a close, Ada tugged at your hand. "Can we go home now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves and shifting boots in the cold.

You nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.”

You caught Mr. Thomas’s eye as he stepped away from the others. He gave you a weary nod, and you knew it was time to leave. You guided the children back to the carriage, helping them inside before following. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Ada and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets.

---

Back at the house, the quiet felt heavier than before. You could feel the weight of grief settling over everything, and it seemed to seep into your bones, making the fatigue that had been gnawing at you for days feel unbearable. Once the children were settled, you retreated to the kitchen, needing a moment to yourself.

But the moment you sat down, the ache in your chest flared up again, sharper this time. You tried to breathe through it, but the tightness only seemed to get worse. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you pressed a hand to your throat, willing it to pass. It felt like something more than just exhaustion now. Something was wrong, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

The back door creaked open, and you startled, your hand flying to your chest as Logan stepped in. His eyes immediately found yours, narrowing in concern.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile as you tried to stand. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

But Logan wasn’t buying it. His hand caught yours, and he gently pulled you to him, his other hand resting on your waist. “You’ve been tired for days,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “And you look worse now than you did a week ago.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, leaning into his warmth without thinking. “Just... everything with Mrs. Thomas. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just held you there, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. “You’re not fine,” he said softly. “You need to rest. You’re running yourself into the ground, and I don’t want—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. “I just... I just want to stay like this for a while. Can we do that?”

Logan’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We can stay like this as long as you need,” he whispered.

The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, calmed the rapid beating of your heart. It didn’t make the ache in your chest go away, but it dulled the edges for a little while. You stayed like that, your bodies swaying slightly, as if rocking back and forth would somehow soothe the turmoil inside you both.

After a long stretch of silence, Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft but serious. “You’ve gotta start taking care of yourself,” he murmured. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I will,” you promised, though you weren’t sure how much of it was for him and how much was for yourself. You could see the worry etched in his features, and it made your heart ache in a different way. “I just... I don’t want to leave the kids right now. They need me.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly. “They need you alive and healthy, not running yourself ragged.”

You knew he was right, but the thought of stepping away—of not being there for them when they needed you most—made your stomach turn.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I’m all they have right now.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’m here. Always.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. It was moments like this, in the quiet after the storm, that made everything feel bearable, even when the exhaustion seemed impossible to shake. You didn’t want to think about what came next—the inevitable questions from the children, the grief that would continue to hang over the house like a dark cloud.

For now, you just wanted to be here, with Logan, in this fleeting moment of peace.

---

Over the next few days, that small cough persisted, annoying but easy to brush off at first. You told yourself it was just the cold weather, or maybe the exhaustion still clinging to you. But it stuck around, and soon it wasn’t just a cough. Your chest felt heavier, and there were moments where you had to stop to catch your breath.

You didn’t say anything to Logan the first few nights he visited, not wanting to worry him. It wasn’t like you were coughing up blood or anything, and you figured it would pass, just like the fatigue had started to. But when he saw you rubbing your chest again, his eyes narrowed with concern.

“You’ve been coughing a lot,” Logan said one evening, his arm draped casually over your shoulder as you leaned into him by the fire. The warmth of the flames helped ease the tightness in your chest, but even then, it felt harder to breathe than it had before.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, tucking your legs under you and snuggling closer to him, hoping to avoid the conversation. “It’s just the cold. Everyone’s getting sick this time of year.”

Logan tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “Y/N, don’t pull that. I know you, and you’re coughing more than you should be. This isn’t just a cold.”

You sighed, not wanting to argue, but the exhaustion weighed on you, and fighting him off seemed too tiring. “Okay, maybe it’s not just a cold,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But it’s nothing serious. I’m just run down.”

Logan’s fingers gently traced up your arm, his touch familiar and grounding. He looked at you with that steady gaze of his, the one that made you feel safe. “You need to rest. Real rest, not just five minutes of sleep here and there between looking after the kids.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, reaching up to touch his face. “I know. But they need me right now, especially Ada. She’s not taking this well, and I can’t just leave her.”

Logan leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re no good to them if you collapse from exhaustion.”

The way he said it—so serious, so protective—it made your chest ache in a different way. You knew he was right, but the thought of taking a step back when the kids were still hurting felt impossible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, but your voice wavered just enough that Logan picked up on it.

He kissed you softly, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour all of his concern into that one kiss. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on the side of your face. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

But the next morning, as you moved through the house and got the kids ready for the day, the cough came back with a vengeance. It left you winded, gripping the counter to steady yourself as your breath caught in your throat. Ada was tugging at your skirt, asking for something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to focus.

“Y/N?” her small voice called, but everything sounded distant.

You forced yourself to smile, pushing through the wave of dizziness. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you said, though it was more for you than her. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed your mind.

That evening, when Logan came by, you didn’t have the energy to hide how bad you felt. The second he walked through the door, he saw it in your face.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice urgent as he rushed to your side. “What the hell happened? You look worse.”

You tried to brush it off, but the cough came again, harsher this time, and Logan’s eyes darkened with worry. His hands were on you, steadying you as you leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you again.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I should’ve done something sooner.”

“Logan, don’t—”

“I’m taking you to a doctor,” he interrupted, his jaw set. “No arguing.”

You wanted to protest, but the truth was, you didn’t have the strength to fight him. You were too tired, too worn down, and part of you was scared. So you nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as if holding you close would make everything better.

“I’m here,” Logan whispered against your hair, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I’ll take care of you, okay? You’re not going through this alone.”

---

The next morning, Logan arrived earlier than usual. He wasn’t taking any chances, especially after the night before. You’d barely slept, your coughing keeping you awake for most of it, and when you did manage to drift off, it was only in short, restless intervals.

Logan helped you into the carriage he’d hired, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary, his brow furrowed with worry. He hadn’t said much since arriving, just a quiet “Mornin’” before ushering you outside. His concern was written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm.

You leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes as the carriage bumped along the cobbled streets. Each breath felt heavier, the tightness in your chest worsening by the day. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew this was more than just a cold. The cough had settled deep, rattling in your lungs, and even though you tried to convince yourself it was nothing serious, the thought that it could be something more was gnawing at you.

Logan sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours as he kept a protective hand on your leg. Every so often, you’d feel his gaze on you, watching, as if checking to make sure you were still holding on. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

When the carriage finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw the modest sign hanging above the doctor's office. Logan didn’t waste any time helping you down, his arm tight around your waist as you made your way inside.

The waiting room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Logan barely let go of you the entire time, his arm never leaving your waist, and when the doctor finally called you in, Logan made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Inside the small exam room, the doctor—a middle-aged man with silver hair and a kind face—greeted you both with a nod. His expression shifted when he looked at you, though, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach churn with nerves.

“How long have you had the cough, miss?” the doctor asked as you sat down, Logan standing right behind you.

“A few days,” you said, your voice raspy and weak. “Maybe a little longer.”

The doctor frowned slightly, moving closer to examine you. “And the fatigue? Any weight loss?”

You nodded. “Yes... I’ve been really tired, and I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there. The doctor continued his examination, listening to your chest with a stethoscope, his brow furrowing as he moved from side to side.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, letting out a slow breath. He met your eyes, and you knew immediately that it wasn’t good.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” he began, his voice gentle. “But given your symptoms and the sound of your lungs, I believe you may have contracted tuberculosis.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. You felt Logan tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.

Tuberculosis.

The sickness that had taken Mrs. Thomas. The same one that had been lingering in the house for weeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You’d heard the stories—the way it ravaged families, the way it spread so easily. You’d seen it firsthand with Mrs. Thomas, watching her waste away before your eyes.

“How... how bad is it?” Logan’s voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

The doctor glanced at him, his expression serious. “It’s hard to say right now. Tuberculosis can vary greatly in severity. We’ll need to monitor her closely. Rest, proper care, and keeping her away from others as much as possible will be essential.”

You tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight. “What... what do we do now?”

The doctor sighed. “We’ll start with treatment to help ease the symptoms—medicinal herbs, rest, and a strict diet. It’s crucial that you avoid any further exertion. You’ll need to isolate yourself to prevent it from spreading.”

You nodded, but your mind was spinning. The thought of being confined, of having to stay away from the children—it made your chest tighten even more. How were you supposed to care for them when you couldn’t even take care of yourself?

Logan crouched down in front of you, his eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” he said softly. “You’ll rest, and I’ll help with the kids. You’re not doing this alone.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want Logan to see how scared you really were.

“I don’t want to leave them,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “They need me.”

“I know,” Logan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand. “But they need you healthy, Y/N. And I need you healthy.”

You looked at him, your heart aching at the sight of his worry. He was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep it together, but you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear you felt deep in your bones.

“We’ll get through this,” he said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Not without a fight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands as tightly as you could. Logan stayed close, his presence a steady, comforting force as the weight of the diagnosis settled over you both.

---

Weeks passed, and the house became quieter. The children were kept at a distance, the once lively home now feeling more like a tomb as you spent your days in bed, trying to gather what little strength you had left. Logan had taken over your duties, ensuring the children were cared for while also staying close to you.

Your body grew weaker with each passing day, the illness creeping deeper into your lungs. The once mild cough had turned into something far more painful, leaving you breathless and exhausted after every fit. You knew, deep down, that the end was approaching. You could feel it in the way your energy dwindled, the way even opening your eyes took effort.

Logan, on the other hand, refused to give up. He never spoke of what was coming, never let on that he saw the same inevitable truth. Instead, he clung to hope, pushing you to eat, to drink, to rest. His presence was a constant, grounding you even in your weakest moments.

Sometimes you even talked about the future, the one you knew you would never have, and the one Logan hoped you would, with him.

Your coughing fit had died down for now, leaving you in bed with your head resting against Logan’s shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body gave you a sense of comfort, even when the pain in your chest didn’t. You took in a shaky breath and spoke softly.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” you murmured, your voice still weak. “Maybe two.”

Logan shifted slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. “Yeah? What kind?”

You shrugged, smiling a little. “Doesn’t really matter. I just like the idea of having something waiting for me at home, you know? Something happy to see me, no matter what kind of day I’ve had.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You’d be a good dog mom.”

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “You think?”

“Definitely. You’ve already got all the practice with the kids.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “Except maybe the dog would be less trouble.”

You laughed, but it turned into a cough, and you quickly brought a hand to your mouth. Logan tensed beside you, waiting until the coughing subsided before speaking again.

“You’re gonna get better, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice firm, but the edge of worry was clear. “We’ll get you that dog. Or two.”

You didn’t respond right away. You wanted to believe him—really, you did—but each day you felt weaker, and it was getting harder to ignore the reality of your situation. But you also didn’t want to drag him down with your fears, so you leaned into him instead, letting the moment linger.

You put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, “how many kids would you want?”

Logan looked at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Kids, huh?” His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you, like he was imagining it for real.

“Yeah,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes searching his face. “I know it’s kind of silly to think about right now, but... I like the idea. You?”

He took a breath, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Never really thought much about it until you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Until me?”

Logan chuckled softly. “Yeah. Before you, I wasn’t really thinkin’ about things like... a future, you know? I didn’t even know if I’d stay in the city long. But now... now I think about things I never used to.” He paused, glancing down at your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Like kids, and... us.”

Your heart fluttered at that, the weight of his words settling in. He’d never said anything like that before—nothing about the future beyond today or tomorrow. It wasn’t like either of you knew what was coming, especially now, but hearing him say that he thought about you in that way made everything feel more real. More possible.

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “So, how many then? Two? Three?”

Logan laughed quietly. “Two sounds good. Just enough to keep us on our toes, but not so many we lose our minds.”

You giggled, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, and Logan’s smile faded a little, worry creeping back into his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just held you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from everything bad in the world.

Once the cough subsided, you leaned your head back against his chest. “I think you’d be a good dad, Logan.”

His hand stilled against your arm. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re good with the kids now, even if you don’t realize it. They like you, trust you. You’d protect them... care for them.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts. “I’d try,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence—it was enough to make you forget, for just a little while, how weak you felt. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of him, of this moment, even though you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?” you asked quietly. “If we didn’t have to worry about... this.” You gestured vaguely, meaning the illness, the uncertainty, all of it.

“All the time,” Logan murmured. “But we’ve still got time, Y/N. I’m not giving up on you.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “You really think we’ll make it through this?”

Logan’s gaze was unwavering. “I know we will.”

His confidence, his belief in you, in this, made your heart ache in the best way. You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even though the fear lingered in the back of your mind.

“You don’t have to be so tough all the time,” Logan said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “It’s okay to lean on me.”

You looked at him, your chest tight for a different reason now. “I know.”

And you did. Logan was always there, steady and unshakable, even when you felt like you were falling apart. You didn’t have to do this alone, even if part of you still felt like you should.

Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. “I’m with you, Y/N,” he whispered. “No matter what.”

You closed your eyes again, savoring the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms around you. For now, that was enough.

But even as you rested against him, part of you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that your time was running out.

---

Logan hated the fact that everything you said was in past tense. How you would’ve liked to learn how to bake bread in that cabin you wanted.

How you would’ve liked to learn how to crochet.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You had been talking again, your voice soft and tired, about all the things you wished you had more time to do. It was starting to drive him crazy—the way you spoke in past tense, like you were already halfway gone.

“Would’ve liked to learn how to crochet,” he repeated softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah. I always thought it’d be nice to make something with my hands. You know, like a blanket or something... for the cabin.”

Logan’s chest tightened. He hated this—hated that you were talking about all these little dreams like they were out of reach. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “You’ll still have time for all that.”

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but filled with something else—something that made his heart ache. “Logan...”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t get to talk like that. We’re gonna get you through this.”

You let out a soft sigh, your hand coming up to touch his cheek. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Logan said quickly, though the way he gripped your hand a little tighter gave him away. He wasn’t ready to admit it—to you, to himself—that the thought of losing you scared him more than anything he’d ever faced.

You smiled faintly, shifting on the bed so you could lean into him. “I know you, Logan. You don’t have to pretend for me.”

Logan felt his throat tighten as you pressed closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. Your body felt so fragile against his, like you could break if he held you too tight. But he needed to feel you, to remind himself that you were still here.

“Don’t,” Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t talk like that.” He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of the storm raging inside him. He didn’t want to hear the finality in your voice, didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that you might slip away from him.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you touched his cheek. “Logan, you know as well as I do...”

“No,” he repeated, cutting you off again, his voice gruff but shaky. His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against his face. “I’m not losing you. I don’t care what the doctor says. We’ll fight this. We’ll get through it.”

There was a long silence between you, the air heavy with the unspoken truth. You didn’t have the heart to argue with him, but you knew. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your body was failing you little by little every day. But Logan’s refusal to accept that reality made you love him even more, even if it hurt.

You gave him a sad smile, your eyes locking with his. “I love you, Logan.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The weight of those words—words you’d both danced around but never truly said—hit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice breaking just a little.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. It wasn’t fair, any of this. You’d only just begun to imagine a life with him, and now that future was slipping through your fingers.

Logan held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he could protect you from everything, even death. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t passionate or desperate—just soft, filled with all the love he hadn’t yet had the chance to show you.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your skin. “Always.”

And for a moment, despite the pain, despite everything, you believed him. Because even if the future was uncertain, even if you didn’t have much time left, you had this. You had him. And for now, that was enough.

---

Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.

You had already accepted your fate, but Logan couldn’t—no matter how many times you tried to explain. He kept his focus on you, his stubborn hope unwavering, even though you both knew time was running out.

“You’re gonna be fine, Y/N. You’ll see,” he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. He brushed a hand through your hair, his touch gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

You looked up at him, your chest tight—not from the sickness, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment. “Logan... we need to talk about this.”

He shook his head immediately, his jaw clenched. “No, we don’t. We don’t have to talk about anything like that. You’re gonna get better, and we’ll figure everything out.” His voice cracked just a little at the end, betraying the fear he was trying to hide.

You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they closed around his. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to spend what little time we have left lying to ourselves.”

Logan looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. “But I can’t... I can’t think about losing you.”

“You don’t have to think about it,” you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. “But we need to be honest with each other. I’m not getting better, Logan. We both know that.”

His whole body tensed beside you, and he turned his head away as if looking anywhere but at you would somehow make your words less real. “I can’t... I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned closer, pressing your lips softly to his jaw. “I love you, Logan. That’s all that matters to me right now.”

His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, holding you as if he could protect you from the inevitable, his arms tightening around you.

After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you too. More than anything. That’s why I’m not giving up.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your heart breaking for him. “I know you’re trying to protect me... but I don’t want you to carry this alone. I need you to be here with me, in this moment, not fighting something we can’t change.”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a second, the wall he’d built around himself seemed to crack. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to just... be.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You can let go.”

His eyes softened, and before you could say anything else, Logan leaned in and kissed you—soft, but with an intensity that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said everything he couldn’t put into words: the fear, the love, the desperation to hold onto whatever time you had left.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, your hand still resting on his cheek. “We don’t have to say goodbye yet. Just stay with me. That’s all I want.”

Logan didn’t respond with words. Instead, he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could keep you with him through sheer willpower alone. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched every now and then like he was fighting back tears.

For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness. There was no cough, no sickness, no uncertainty—just the warmth of Logan’s body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.

Eventually, you spoke, your voice barely audible. “I wish we had more time.”

Logan’s grip tightened slightly. “Me too.”

You felt a lump in your throat, but you forced a small smile. “You know... if things were different, I think we’d have had a pretty good life together.”

Logan’s voice was thick with emotion as he replied, “We still will. Somehow... someday.”

You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “Maybe in another life.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way his body stiffened, like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again—even in another life.

“You don’t have to be alone, Logan,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with all the love you had left. “Promise me you won’t shut yourself off.”

He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and raw. “I can’t promise that.”

You smiled faintly, knowing that was the best you were going to get from him. “Just... don’t forget me.”

Logan leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long time. “I could never forget you.”

The room was quiet after that, the only sound the soft rustling of the blankets as Logan adjusted you in his arms, pulling you closer.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in again, but this time it didn’t feel so overwhelming. With Logan’s warmth surrounding you, with his quiet strength holding you up, you felt at peace.

---

You had passed away in your sleep that night, in Logan’s arms. He had stayed up, something in his subconscious telling him to keep his eye on you.

And he did, he felt you take your last breath; one that didn’t seem as painful as when you were awake.

Logan held you close, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he realized what had just happened. His mind refused to process it, refused to accept that this was it. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with breaths that felt foreign in his own body. You weren’t moving anymore, not even the faintest stir.

For a long time, he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair, willing his warmth into your body as if that could somehow bring you back.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing your cold cheek. "Please... wake up."

There was no answer.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat burning, his chest tightening. His hand trembled as it caressed your face, fingers gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he’d done a hundred times before. But this time, there was no playful smile in return. No teasing comment about how messy your hair always was.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He let out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the bedsheet, the weight of what had happened finally starting to crush him. He knew this moment was coming—he’d known it for weeks, maybe even months—but now that it was here, it didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how it had come to this, how someone as full of life as you could just... stop.

“Y/N... don’t do this... please,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible as if saying it any louder would make it more true. His hand lingered on your cheek, hoping for even the smallest sign that you’d take another breath.

But nothing came.

He stayed like that for a long time, just holding you, feeling the weight of your stillness.

Logan had never felt so powerless in his life. For all the things he could do, for all the strength in his bones, none of it could save you. His healing couldn’t save you. The realization cut him deeper than any wound ever had.

At some point, he felt his chest tremble, felt the tears start to burn at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t cried in years, maybe ever—not like this—but he couldn’t stop it now. Not when he’d lost you.

“I... I love you,” he choked out, the words falling from his lips like a confession, like an apology for not saying it enough while you were still here to hear it. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. “I love you so much...”

The room was silent, except for the sound of Logan’s ragged breathing and the ticking of the old clock in the corner, each second passing with an agonizing slowness. He wished he could turn it back, go back to when you were still here—laughing, talking, smiling. Anything but this.

But he couldn’t.

And the weight of that realization shattered him.

For the first time in his life, Logan had no fight left in him. Not for this. Not without you.

i'm not gonna lie, i definitely started crying while writing those last few scenes, even though i knew how it was gonna end

just a little note for everyone (i'll probably add this at the end of every chapter just cause it helped me when writing) in this chapter, logan is 22 years old and reader is around the same age.

tags: @seasonofthenerd @golden-ebony @planetxella @tighrenicotine @wittyjasontodd @cherrypieyourface @tumharisakhi @person-005 @zaggprincess2

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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chlmtsdoll · 3 months ago

Text

BOMBSHELL

౨ৎ @cinnamoncunt asked: can we pleaseee get an either art or patrick fic with victoria secret model reader?

Um, ABSOLUTELY ? Let’s do both ! Perfect timing bc I just settled on being a vs angel for halloween since I don’t have 2 bfs to do challengers this year. I’m sick of seeing the girls on my fyp who get to do it so this will justify my envy. 🤍

౨ৎ summary: it’s 2006 and you’re the opener for this years Victoria’s Secret fashion show. But unlike your other fellow angels, you have not one, but two supportive boyfriends just waiting to get their hands on you after the show.

౨ৎ warnings: 18+, smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, oral (f) receiving, early 20’s Art and Pat, model reader, womanizer Patrick, shy Art, reader has dom-ish moments, flirty foreplay, pet names, dirty talk, Victoria’s Secret (the brand) mentions, a song inspo: Long Way 2 Go by Cassie

You might’ve been the only angel backstage with two boyfriends on her radar.

No, you totally were.

And that was fine by you when having the two boys under your wings was your own little secret.

Art and Patrick wouldn’t have missed it for the world. With not only their supermodel girlfriend being the opener for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show, but fulfilling a great erotic teenage dream — something they both watched together during former years. In their dorm room at the Mark Rebellato Academy, while the other thirteen year olds would be up playing video games, or signing up for extra tennis classes in their free time, those two were glued in front of the tv. Creating a world of their own fantasy’s filled with angel wings and lingering far too overwhelming for them to even handle. Long legs, the bounciest glowing curls and pink bra sets filling the void. Their fascination with gorgeous and exceptionally powerful women at such a young age was far more vibrant than average.

It was what they bonded over from the very beginning.

Doing whatever they could whenever they could to find girls as close to what you happened to be as possible.

So when you came into their life, effortlessly magnetic with your beauty, superb bone structure, glitter dusted skin and a modeling contract — Art and Patrick had been at your beck and call since.

This was your peak. You’d really been here. Your I made it moment sinking in as you sat in the makeup chair backstage. The chaos of other models and their teams all rushing to get ready for the huge fashion show starting in just an hour tops was comforting to you, as an artist smudged on your cherry blush and the stroke of mascara running through your lashes before you checked your reflection in the mirror. Perfection to the way your curls flowed down your back, to even the careless drape of your robe hanging off your shoulder.

In the distance coming from not too far, there had been tousling wings parting as crew of models jumped out of the way, along with yelps like “what the hell ?” and “you guys can’t be back here!” coming from the group of girls.

And of course, it had been your blonde and brunette trailing through the crowd of angels to find you.

You watched with giggles coming from your covered mouth as the most handsomely men approached you. “What are you two doing back here?! You’re gonna get me fired and I haven’t even walked yet- -”

Art had a sideways little smile on his face, and eyes set on your face done up in shimmery makeup. You could nearly feel the way Arts heart had to be beating out of his chest just by the flustered look on his expression. Red and a tad dewy in the heat of the other barely clothed with mostly just rhinestones and lace six foot models surrounding him — but his focus was automatically choked up by you. On the other hand, Patrick’s eyes had been lingering all over the place, standing next to Art with a smirk across his lips as he had already charmed a group of angels nearby. Waving to them a bit with his sly attitude being just what they needed to get the fun pumping out of them for the show. As the girls all giggled to themselves and tried their best to look away, the brunette couldn’t wait to go yapping to all his friends or whoever would listen about all the hot girls he’d seen tonight.

You were so used to his cockiness contrasting Arts sweetness all too well, it hadn’t even phased you in the slightest..

“We uh- - wanted to bring you a little gift.” The blonde one spoke up nervously after clearing his throat, from behind his back, he revealed to you a full bouquet of pink peonies.

“Your favorite for all that hard work in the gym. The prettiest for our pretty girl.” Patrick grinned as he passed the flowers to you and you had let out an excited little noise as you took them. Your smile facing the two men as they watched your every girlish movement that they adored, smelling the arrangement in front of you.

“I- - you guys are too cute. They’re lovely.”

“You look bad ass by the way.” Art finally let himself breathe before chuckling with a smirk. And you grinned at him, pink colored cheeks as you stand to get closer to the men. Lean and in your six inches, Patrick shoved his hands down in his pockets just so resist the urge to touch you. Just a hip or your wrist. Anything he could while you looked like that. In all the eloquence of a woman that you were. Body so fit to him it was almost painful he wasn’t going into a spiral right now.

“Please confirm this for me angel.. can the wings stay on tonight ?” The brunette licked his lips carved into a smile of his own mischievous thoughts, Art then shoved him in his bicep.

You couldn’t help but let out soft laughter as you looked down at the peonies with shyness although your eyes had been full of tease.

“I can’t take them silly, they’re gonna be up in a museum.” You bit your lip as you smiled at your boyfriends. Eyes sparkling under the florescent lights of the room and the pair had collectively sucked in their breaths from.

“Ah.. course, course.” Patrick nodded although he’d still been eyeing you up in your pink stripped robe. “I don’t think they’d be able to fit in the limo anyways, they’re so big..” the blonde one laughed with the two of you, your eyes moved between them before you looked away with a naughty but playful nature.

“Yeah, well, I gotta say I like my pleasures pretty big..” your tone was smooth, as smooth as the way your hand then trailed, pink tips touching delicately over Arts belt buckle to Patrick’s leather as you made sure to meet both of the boy’s widening eyes. You turn back to your makeup chair with a little smile.

“Holy shit.” and “Oh my god.” Was heard behind your shoulder.

“Now go before you get kicked out.” You giggled. Patrick had knock Arts shoulder so he’d come back to earth and start heading out with him. You waved their way with your fingers and could barely hide your embarrassingly big smile, watching them fawn over you even while exiting.

As the show began and the crowd was roaring, the anticipation backstage was an overwhelming high with the rest of your fellow angels. You were first. And that was a lot of weight on your back. (not just from your wings) the moment you stepped on the runway, and the lights set on you, cheers were heard from the far back of the audience as your gleaming smile took upon your face. In your vs set, glimmering down the runway. You felt the adrenaline move within your hips as you not walked, but glided down the runway in a sexiness that had a sense of grace and girlish fun. Excitement big and bubbling through you as you blew kisses to the crowds of not just other models, but fans, legends. Everyone admiring you.

The front row wasn’t absent of familiar faces either because when you found Art and Patrick eyeing each other with proud grins, all the memories and moments of their early teen hoods was like a flashback through their minds. Art and Patrick would shamefully try and hide the way their cocks would tent as they watched one after the other angel strut down the runway. In bliss it was all the wanted to see it right in front of them. Now, that same feeling was on a different level when they got to actually leave with one herself. the moment you flashed a smile at the two boys from the stage before swishing your lace lined hips back stage — they started cheering even more than the others around them. You closed heavenly. And you knew you looked damn good with seven foot pink angel wings behind you.

♡

When the after party rolled around, it was all of your model friends to pour it up in celebration of a phenomenal show. The other angels had begged you to stay, keep dancing on tables and flirting with the guys at the bar — but your desire had been pulled to have your own little after party. But with just your two boys in attendance.

You let them take over your hotel suit with as much whiskey and champagne as they wanted, more wine and more glasses being delivered to your room would rack up a massive bill at the end of the night that your agents would take care of. You couldn’t give a care in the world as you’d been frolicking around that room in your gifted pink set, diamond bra stuck to your chest made you look from another world of heavenliness. Your heels were still strapped on and the r&b from the radio filled the area as you stood on the bed to pose for the camera of your blinged out BlackBerry. You had Patrick snapping pictures, capturing you on your big night. Even if you’d already gotten tons from the show, that just wasn’t enough when you had the looks of a goddess.

“Hell yeah, baby, that’s it.” The brunette edged you on as he got you from all angels, knowing he’d send them to himself immediately after you’d gotten your pick. You giggled with a glass of champagne in one hand, and your other pushing up your locks for more volume. Art sipping on whatever he had while observing you from Patrick’s side. Putting on a show for the two boys without even realizing it.

“Make sure you get my good side,”

“Are they not the same ?” The brunette had made an confused expression from behind the phone. You stopped from posing to reach out and laugh “gimme” you grabbed it from him and all he could do was grin at the way you had no idea just how much of a true bombshell were. Art sat on the bed closest to you while you pressed different buttons to scroll through the dozens of photos with a bitten lip covered in gloss. The blondes eyes ran over your skin, the way you sat in that little set, and the way he relaxed against the comforter of the bed with a shy grin made you look up from your phone to meet his blue orbs.

“What ?” You tittered, throwing your phone to the other side of the bed.

“It’s just, you were so confident out there tonight, princess. You’re always so.. confident. You didn’t even look like a thought of nervousness had crossed your mind,” Art reached out to run the back of his index over your glowing skin and you hid your smile in your shoulder a bit.

“I was so nervous.”

“Really ?” He sat up.

“Yeah, opening in front of all those people ? Live tv ? Half naked and in six inch heels ? I was terrified.”

“You could of fooled me.” Patrick scoffed as he sat on your other side, “what Art said.. your confidence. It’s so sexy.”

“Yeah ?” Your voice was slightly silkier as you look from the brunette to the blonde who were only inches away from you now, breathing in your pure seduction they couldn’t hide the need to want to get that lacy thong off you immediately. Taste what you’d been teasing them with all night long.

“like.. what if my heel got stuck ? …what if I fell ?”

“No way, your- effortless.”

“But would you have rushed to save me ?” You leaned in close to the brunette, batted you lashes with a subtle pout. And it was then that rare occasion when Patrick had gotten choked up on his words occurred. You gave him your sweetest eyes, and smirked at the way his vision trailed down to your lips from there. Hands going to slip around your thigh.

“Who wouldn’t ?” You then heard the blondes voice come in slowly. He watched you turn away from Patrick’s embrace to now focus on him.

Arts eyes meet yours and that sugary smile you always carry returned to your face too soon. You followed what he laid down. Leaning in Arts path now, your lips landed against the blondes. Slow and with ease you kiss and the tension in who’d entrance you first was settled. Art slipped a hand in your waves, he moved his mouth against yours like it had been second nature to him and you sat on your knees to deepen it, tongues running against one another and a soft “mmm” came from the back of your throat as he surprised you with his newfound control over his movements.

Lost in the kisses as your lips smack against one another continuously, the lip stain of your liner now smudged across arts mouth, the blonde groaned. Patrick, felt his hard on grow viscous as he scanned the two of you. And Art, way beyond that point, could of came if it went on just a few more minutes.

You grab on to his curly locks as you pulled him away, softly panting with a smile. Arts lips were lingering nearby as you closed your eyes to peck them one last time before brushing your thumb against his bottom one with a giggle, your view flashes Patrick’s direction.

“Now, are you gonna make me cum or what ?” You sigh before letting your back hit the sheets behind you, leaving the two to fend for themselves at once. You watched Patrick’s digits run over your front side, hunger in his as while feeling up your skin. Art already leaned in to find his place between your legs — the other following when he got the memo. “mmm, you smell like paradise..” Art had his nose pressed against your lace covered cunt. He breathed deep for your sent to fill his senses, and Patrick kissing up your thigh. You observed with a bitten lip as you play with the strap of your bra.

“She is paradise..” was the brunette’s response, he nibbled a bit on the plushness of your thigh and you squeal excitedly. Both boys struggle to let the other get your panties out of the way, you were amused to watch them. You just lifted your legs so it would be easier. They settled on the side since your set had been hot anyways. One leg on the shoulder of the other, you felt a digit come in contact with your clit — already letting out a soft whimper. A tongue laid a stripe up your cunt, and it felt like sweet relief.

Art took his time with going from kissing to lapping at your core, setting his tongue flat then flicking up to your folds, Patrick focused on your clit. Sucking till his lips find their way to eating you in rhythm. Your eyebrows knit together as you let out a higher pitched noise and stuffed your hands into their hair, the overwhelming sensations washed over you. Moans echo clean from your throat. “oh- yeah… good boys.” you heard more groans vibrate from your core and that made you grin. All while now reaching for the pillows above your head as the boys make your legs shake and tremble. You gasp, muttering curses under your breath.

They were too good just oral wise. It had your nails clawing at the sheets in no time as they let all their craving for you out on your pussy, it pushed you into a climax fast.

“Mmm, yes- - fuck !” you whine as you start to cum on the tongues that were fucking into you, even their licking and sucking after your soaked cunt made you shutter. Your grip on the sheets letting up slowly as you came down with a soft sigh. Art rubbed the back of your thigh as he leaned up with the other, they both sat back with their chests heaving and very visible bulges showing from behind their jeans.

You cracked a honeyed smile. “Okay. Let me see those cocks.” You rise to your elbows after the order and the men take no hesitation to get their buttons undone. Your smile turning to a darker smirk soon enough in anticipation.

“She wants to play, huh ?” Art’s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at you whist shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, Patrick already way ahead of him as he chuckled,

“Always a bad girl under all that sweetness,” the brunette joked as he playfully pulled on your foot and you yanked it away with a giggle. “You know I can’t help it.” You lean up to see the sight in front of you. Both men hard enough to keep you up till sunrise and your eyes light up right then. “Oh, look what we have here..” your tone was playful as you got closer, keeping an eye on them but also the way both their pretty cocks stood in excitement for you.

Reaching out you went to Patrick first. Letting your soft but experienced hand stroke him a bit, just to feel his thickness grow in your embrace.

“Shit..” the word slips from him and you sucked in your bottom lip as you went to work, innocently watching his expression as you stroked him so calmly but with devotion.

“Y’know… I never got a kiss.” The man uttered and you scoffed kittenishly before hovering your lips above his, smooching just once before Patrick went in hot, reaching behind you to palm at your ass and inch you forward to him. You yelped mixed with a string of giggles, pushing him down on the bed so you can climb on top of him.

“Get this off,” your voice was playful and flirty as you pulled Patrick’s shirt over his chest and arms. “You too, Art.” the blonde was quick to follow.

Your dripping core was just inches above Patrick's erect member. You sat at top of his body, just smiling and admiring the view. But it was a known fact the man underneath you was quite impatient, especially when you’d been running your hands down his chest the way you were, acrylic nails doing their own thing by the texture of the hair lightly trialed there.

“You gonna show me how you ride like an angel, princess ? Or should I do it myself ?” You were blushing right after his words, nodding a bit, your hands lead down farther to find his dick, brushing it up against your clothed slit as you sucked in your breath. With just a couple adjustments, you were leaning up so you could fit Patrick’s thick and full cock inside of you. A whimper immediately breaking through you as you sunk down. And the brunette didn’t hold back for a second as he held your hips, thumb kneading against the mesh fabric of your panties and watching the way you move so gracefully above him.

Art was too drawn in by the scene to have even remembered to get himself prepared. He hadn’t touched his cock, but you knew what to do.

Reaching out, you gently took Arts chin in your palm as you brought him close. Still going up Patrick’s cock as you kissed the blonde nice and slow. You all were beginning to be a mess of moans. “Touch yourself while we fuck, okay ?” You whispered against Arts ear. It caused him the most delightful chills. He didn��t think twice as his own hand went to his cock. And you started bouncing on Patrick, whimpering and moaning out like their hadn’t been people in the next door rooms — your hair springing off your skin with you.

“There you go, doll… take my dick. You’re so fucking hot.” Patrick grunted as he held your waist so you could fuck yourself against him, leaving no space between as you rocked yourself on his lap. Your mouth went agape when he readjusted to pound up into your tight hole,

“Yeah- - was I the hottest angel out there tonight ?”

“Fuck yeah..” the brunette grabbed you with roughness so you’d been flush with his chest, you smiled as he made your pussy clench hard frantically and your moans turned into stuttering whines. Taking him like this, you knew you’d cum. So you then hit on his chest to let you up, that way you could save your next high just a little longer.

“Oh- - shit… shit,” you climbed off of the man and sniveled out as you flipped your hair out of your face.

“Oh my god.. baby, I was so close.”

“Not yet. Art, come fuck me.” Your directness had turned the blonde on so much he could feel his cock twitch at your words. He met you, and with one look at your gorgeous set gaze on his and a smirk on your lips it set his thoughts wild. His tongue darted out to wet his own lip as you smiled up at him, you finally got rid of your bra now, and slipped off your panties before placing a hand on his neck tenderly as the other slid up his chest. Arts eyes locked with yours, he just watched you with a coy little sideways smile. And when you turned around, your ass was at his crotch, you were bending over near the bedspread and he sucked in his breath. “Oh, shit..” the blonde muttered. And it made you giggle girlishly.

You were pushing your soaked pussy on Arts member, “my god, you’re so wet.” He announced just ready to pump you full himself, but he knew he wouldn’t want anything to ruin the sweetness of the moment. So he let his tip meet your core, you observed with wide eyes, his dick perfectly pink and dripping of pre cum. You were practically salivating at the sight. “Fuck her good, Art.” Patrick chimed in and the blonde pushed into you with a deep groan leaving his throat, you gripped at the sheets as your face scrunched up and your jaw went hanging. Art slowly moved his hips against you, mouth agape at the sight of your ass against him heavily. Arts hand kneaded against your hip.

You spread your legs a little farther apart to take him. All of him. Moaning like you’d been split in half, Art started to thrust nice and easy. It made you reach back to grab his muscly arm for support and he grunted from the sight of your teasing eyes watching him, you always just had to see Arts face whenever he fucked you, because he was so pretty. Especially like this — chest glistening and damp curls as he made escalating noises exit you. You regularly told him he would be successful if he ever gave modeling a shot. Although he never believed you, thinking you were just being kind. But you really meant it. Art was delicious on the eyes. And not that he took any away from Patrick (him being too pretentious even for the modeling industry anyways) but they each had their own beauty to serve in different ways. Arts gorgeousness came straight from good genes. And just like his face, so did his cock. Wonderful and thicker than most guys his age, especially when he put it to good use like you and Patrick occasionally showed him.

You smile beneath your bitten lip and mewls at your other delectable boyfriend, Arts sly grin was in response and when he pounded into you faster, you felt the bed shake. You couldn’t hold back as you began to scream his name. It was always in the front of your mind to make Art feel good when you knew he struggled with his shyness at times unlike the brunette.

“Yes ! Yes, oh fuck- - make me cum, Art !”

“Yeah ? ..You like that ?” The blonde huffed as he snapped his hips into you,

“Uh hu… harder- - fuck it, just like that.”

Art let his hands palms at your ass, then slide up your torso to cup your breasts. Gripping them in his hands as you slid yourself up and down his member. “Your tits are fucking perfect, oh my god.” You felt slick running down your inner thigh, sheets tight in your palms as your eyes began to roll.

Patrick who watched right beside Art, was jerking himself to the sounds of your syrupy moans. You looked too angelic on Arts cock, he couldn’t help it as his free hand smacked down on your ass while you fucked yourself on Art. It made you both groan. And you loved it, your flirty smile said it all.

Art felt full enough to cum in you right then, the sight of your cunt spread against him was starting to make his head spin. “I’m gonna fill you up pretty girl, you ready ?” It was quick thrusts and a mixture of your half screams and half moans of “fuck, Art!” Filling the noise of the room before you were gushing around his dick. And he was spilling inside of you like that, an uncontrollable amount of his seed was painting your walls and the blonde made sure to get every last drip of it in your sweet cunt. The other man l beside him pumped his cock quick to releasing on your back side all with a string of groans and curses.

You didn’t collapse on your stomach just yet, not only the feeling of the two boys marking their territory on you being too excellent of a feeling to end just yet, but because Art crouched to lick at your puffy cunt. He tasted the mixture of you and him (with Patrick flowing into the mix) as you let out soft whimpers against the pillows. The brunette gripped your ass cheeks to help and you wiggled from the pleasure with a sigh of giggles. “naughty girl.” He smirked, the other licked up what was left of all of you like a pro. Your toes flexed and curled with the punch of his tongue.

“Fuck. That was amazing. You were amazing. ” Was all he could say when he collapsed on he comforter beside you with a deep breath and you turned on your back too. Slowly coming down from trembling. Art wrapped an arm over your body as he rested against your shoulder and you smile.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had- - ever.” Your laughter was light and Patrick to your side got close to your body too, you let your hand gently caress his jaw.

“They weren’t gonna give you that at the after party we’re they ?” He grinned.

“No. Definitely not.” you shook your head with the sweat on your face only making your half ruined makeup look better somehow. Your love spell body shimmer still stuck to your skin and even got on Art and Patrick’s sculpted bodies pretty nicely as they gently rubbed you down. You smiled before tapping above your cheek bones, and both of your boys knew what to do. They left a two sweet kisses for you.

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