#since the short hair was his hair for so so long

[intellectualfallacy]

please write more of hwang jun ho !! 🙏🙏

Author's Note: He was the first I wanted to write for to get my writing warmed up again, so can't help but oblige to this request! ☺️ I really hope you enjoy!

Summary: After you come back from a late night work outing, (Y/N) and Junho seem to have the same thought in mind.

Rating: M (18+)

Warning(s): Smut, Dirty Talk, Oral (F & M Receiving), No Protection

MDI

The wind blew harsh as I rushed inside to the apartment’s lobby to escape the night’s cold weather, giving a shudder as I was met with a slightly less cold environment. I would have been home hours ago but a work dinner kept me away, making me regret wearing a dress if i had known I would be staying for so long. The alcohol helped keep me a bit warm but nothing like being at home with Junho. He was all I could think about during the outing; flashes of his sweet smile, laughter, his body cuddling and keeping me warm.. or how good he looked over me.. 

Maybe it was the one beer thinking for me. Or I really just needed him. Walking up the stairs, I reach our apartment door, clumsily pulling out my keys and opening the door silently. Instead of being met with a dark living room, the corner lamp and television lit the room, seeing Junho almost staring blankly at the screen as if to not fall asleep. “You’re not in bed?” I ask as i closed the door, causing him to jolt. “There you are.” He replies, huffing lightly as he stood up, the blanket on him slipping off as he yawned, wearing a white tee shirt and grey shorts. “You weren’t answering your phone but since the bar isn’t that far, I assumed you were just busy.” He explained as I took off my coat and heels, walking towards me. “How did it go?” He moved the hair out of my face, cupping my face as he placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I moaned and smiled as he moved away, seeing his warm smile and groggy eyes. “It went good. Nothing special.” I close the gap between us as I wrap my arms around his neck, his hands moving to my hips. “I was just thinking about you, a lot.” I reply, him giving a curious hum. “What did I do to earn the privilege?” He places his forehead against mines, feeling his hands wander to the small of my back, moving me closer to him. “There’s too many to count.” I reply with a small laugh, making him smile proudly. “Should I give you a reason then?” He asks, moving his head back and a hand back up to my cheek, giving a soft rub. “Hmm.. How are you going to do that?” I teased, lightly running my fingers along his neck. Giving a small smirk, he grabs my legs and pulls me up, making me let out a gasp as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

My back hits the mattress as Junho’s soft lips crash against mines, settling between my legs as I wrap one around him, the other bent on his side. His hands traveled my sides as he parted my lips, both of us moaning into our mouths and moving my hands along his back, dragging his shirt up more and more. I struggled not to grind up to him as his hand reached for my thigh, squeezing it and moving his hand higher, his rough fingertips gliding and raising my dress higher. “You’re so soft.” He moans out as he moves his head to my neck, giving light kisses and small licks as I moaned softly. I could feel him move the bottom of my dress up, lightly touching the inside of my thigh before feeling his covered bulge begin to grind down onto me slowly. “Junho.” I whimpered as he sucked on my neck, causing a sting before licking it as I grinded up to him, a hand pushing my hips back down. “You have to be patient, baby.” He said into my ear before giving it a little bite, making me grasp onto his shirt as he kept up the slow pace. “But I want more.” I whimpered, my nails dragging lightly against his back, hearing him give a low moan. Instead of answering, he moved up and off of me, moving off of the bed and standing. “Come take my clothes off if you need it that bad.” He gave an intense stare as I moved to him, keeping my eyes on him as his hand reaches down to grasp his growing cock. I simply nod and smile, standing and removing his shirt, it falling on the ground as my fingertips glide along his tight abs. My hand moves to his shorts, letting them fall on the floor as his black boxer briefs are revealed. I keep my eyes on him as I let my fingers trail along his bulge before gripping it lightly, smiling up at him as he sucks in a breath. He moves a hand to hold the back of my neck, keeping me there. “Are you my dirty girl?” He asks. I nod, feeling his fingers dig slightly. “Say it.” He growled, making me whimper with excitement. “I’m your dirty girl.” I say, earning an approving moan. 

“Then get on your knees.” He lets go of my neck, stepping back to give me space to be in front of him. Nodding, I kneel down in front of him, reaching back and letting my dress pool around me. Reaching up, my hand grips his bulge, giving light strokes as I look up at him. He gives a small smile before saying, “Come on, (Y/N), don’t be mean.” I move closer and place a kiss on his covered cock, keeping my eyes on him. “I thought we had to be patient.” I tease, getting him to growl. “I take that back.” He replies, his eyes going along my body. “Take that bra off, too.” I nod, keeping my eyes on him as i reach back and unlatch my bra, letting it fall with the dress. I lick my lips as my hands pull and let go of the black fabric, watching his cock spring out. He lets out a relieved moan as my hand wraps around his base, kissing his tip before taking out my tongue, letting his tip lay on it for a second before licking him. My other hand comes up to grab his thigh as I let my mouth fully wrap around him, my eyes shutting as I adjust to him. A low groan escapes him as his cock hits the back of my throat, both hands grabbing my head and bobbing me, making me gag and move back, spit dribbling down my chin. “Fuck.” He groaned as I smiled up at him, both hands on his thighs as I take him in again, keeping my eyes on him as I bury his cock in my throat again. I gag a bit around him but keep bobbing my mouth, my eyes beginning to water as I did my best to keep them open. His eyebrows crease and his mouth stays open as he stares, groans, moans and curses escaping them as my hands grip onto his thighs. A hand travels to his balls, massaging them lightly as my eyes closed again, keeping up my movements until I feel him move me off of him. 

I let out a small gasp as I look up at him, seeing him huffing, letting out a load moan. “Get on your back.” He ordered, lifting myself up only for him to grab me halfway, lifting and tossing me onto the mattress, making me gasp. “I need you.” I whimper, catching my breath as his hands reached down, pulling my panties off as I raised my hips to help him. He let them drop before he lowered himself to my crotch, his lips and breath getting closer to my pussy, making me shiver. “You’re so wet.” He mutters almost to himself before his tongue peeks out of his mouth, his eyes glues to my wetness before he licks along my folds, his eyes closing as he tasted. “God, fuck.” I moaned out as I felt him drag his tongue again, opening his eyes and looking up at me. I whined as I felt his hands reach up, moving my legs up and over his shoulders before feeling his tongue move into my pussy, moving it back and forth before licking up to my clit, sucking on it lightly. Throwing my head back, I can’t help the moans that escape me before looking back to him, his hand reaching up and folding my tit as he enjoyed his motions. “I need your cock in me, Junho,” I whimpered, fighting to start grinding on his face. His eyes fluttered as he moved away from me, his chin lightly shining with wetness as he reached for a cabinet, pulling a small towel from it and quickly cleaning his chin. “Come here.” His hand captures my chin as I lean up to do so, our tongues intertwined with each others taste.

We stay like this for a moment, savoring each other before I move away, glancing at his cock, swearing I could see it twitch for a second. “Do you need my cock in you? Huh?” Looking up at him, he smirks as he brings he brings his cock to my pussy, rubbing his tip against my cock, making me moan out and nod frantically. “Yes, I do, please, Junho, I need you inside me.” I mumble against his lips as he spreads my legs and sinks into me, a yell and moan leaving me as his cock gently spreads me, his hand coming up to move the hair off my face as he slowly starts to thrust. I let out shaky moans as I adjust to him, a hand reaching to his hips and guide him on how I’m feeling. He keeps looking between my face and his cock thrusting into me, his beautiful face making the most sinful faces, groans and long moans making me get even closer. I grab the back of his head and he grabs the back of my knees, bringing them up to his shoulders as I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling as his cock sinks even deeper than I thought. 

“Oh fuck-”

“Junho!”

My body shakes as he looks into my eyes, huffing and moaning so near my mouth as he enters me. The new angle makes me feel so full, whimpering as he brings his lips to my neck, hearing him almost whimper as my pussy tightened around him. He licks along my neck as he begins to thrust more, my hands coming up to rake my fingers along his back, feeling goosebumps rise as I reached his lower back. “You’re so fucking pretty.” Junho whines as he moves his head away, a hand grasping at my hip to bring it up as the other went to my tit, his fingers squeezing my nipple before groping it again. I can only whimper over and over again as his cock filled me, goosebumps rising on my skin as he kept fucking me so much, it was starting to become overwhelming.

“Huh-Jun- Fuck… Junho”

“Gonna come, baby?”

“Mmm-”

“Dirty girl. Come over this cock.”

I let out a choked whimper before moaning a mix of curses and Junho’s name, letting out a loud moan as my body shook with orgasm, whimpering as his cock kept moving. I look down at his cock moving in me before I glance to him, seeing his dark gaze watching my every movement, biting his lip before letting a whine escape. “I need you.” I whisper, bringing his head closer to me, our lips barely touching. “Cum in me.” I whimper, my sensitive pussy making me whine and tighten around him. Letting out a deep moan, he nods, keeping his eyes on me. “That’s what my honey needs. My cum.” He groans out, groaning loud before his movements fastened, making me curse at the sudden quickness of his thrusts. “All for me.” I whimper, smiling up at him. “Right, baby?” I whimpered, my hands squeezing his arms. His eyes squeeze shut as he keeps his hard thrust going, curses escaping him as I moan. “Mmm, that cock needs to cum in me~” I tease, pushing his head down onto my neck, moaning into his ear. “Oh-oh fuck-” He groans out before I feel his cock cum in me, moaning at the feeling. I grind up to him to help him through, moaning as he kept fucking me, his cock softening as he took it out, a soft moan from me as he slumped beside me.

He laid on his back before I moved and laid on his chest, letting out a soft moan as we settled in. He spread his legs, letting my legs go over his, my head laying on his chest as one of my hands laid on his chest, both of catching our breaths. After a moment, we both shuffled to move lower, laying side by side but our bodies facing each other to hug on the bed. We both stayed silent as he moved his head back and going along my body, almost inspecting for injuries before he turned to me almost exhausted, letting himself bury his head into my neck and hands holding me close. I smiled lightly before I relaxed, closing my eyes as I felt him bring up our blanket, covering us both in warmth. I felt him move away before I opened my eyes, him smiling back at me. “I love you.” He whispers before kissing me again, making me giggle with happiness. “I love you. More than you know.” I reply as our mouths move away for a second, his smile going across his face before kissing me deeply.

“That means you’re mine, right?”

“Always.”

[emeraldsandpearlsss]

Under Pressure

As a graduation present to yourself you head to the spa to finally get some relaxation. Lucky for you, your masseuse knows just how to work out that tension.

(this is my first attempt at a one shot so be gentle)

WC: 4.4k

content warnings: strangers, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), hand job, riding the tiger

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moan into his mouth as the champagne bubbles float upwards again. Harry’s grip turns bruising as he pulls me down harder along his thigh while I maintain my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

After all, some knots need more than one visit to work out.

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒

pairing : quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.3k

genre : fluff and a little bit of angst, childhood friends to lovers no warnings

summary : you and quinn reconnect after years of silence during a summer evening at his family’s house, navigating awkwardness and unresolved feelings…

the warm summer air was alive with the sound of cicadas and the faint hum of conversation drifting through the hughes’ backyard. the evening sun cast a golden glow over the lake behind their house, and the familiar scent of grilled food lingered in the air. it had been years since you’d set foot here, but the nostalgia hit you like a wave.

you tugged nervously at the hem of your sundress, watching as your parents exchanged pleasantries with jim and ellen hughes. they were as welcoming as ever, their smiles warm and genuine as they ushered everyone into the house.

and then you saw him.

quinn.

his brown hair was slightly tousled, and his quiet demeanor hadn’t changed much. but the boy you once knew had grown up. he stood a few feet away, talking to his brothers, his posture slightly stiff when his eyes flickered to you. you felt a pang in your chest as memories of your childhood friendship came rushing back—bike rides, movie marathons, and endless summer days spent together.

but those days felt like a lifetime ago.

you hadn’t spoken in years, not since life pulled you in different directions. he went off to chase his hockey dreams, and you stayed behind, caught up in your own world. the distance had been unintentional at first, but eventually, it became the norm.

quinn’s mom, ellen, had invited you and your parents over for dinner, much to your surprise. she’d been adamant, saying how much she missed your family and how wonderful it would be to “reconnect”.

“y/n!” ellen’s voice broke through your thoughts. “it’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”

you smiled and gave her a quick hug, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

“it’s good to see you too, mrs. hughes.”

her gaze darted between you and quinn. “you and quinn used to be inseparable. you’ll have to catch up tonight!”

you glanced at quinn, who gave you a small, polite smile before quickly turning back to his brothers.

yeah, this was going to be awkward.

⋆˙⟡

dinner was a mix of laughter and awkward silences. jack and luke tried their best to fill the gaps, cracking jokes and sharing stories, but you couldn’t ignore the tension between you and quinn. he was polite but distant, and you found yourself retreating into your shell.

after dinner, everyone dispersed—jack and luke headed into town, your parents stayed inside with jim and ellen, and you found yourself wandering toward the lake. the water was calm, reflecting the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

“hey.”

you turned to see quinn standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“hey,” you replied softly.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against the shore.

“mind if i join you?” he asked.

“sure.”

he stepped closer, standing beside you as you both stared out at the lake. the silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“i didn’t think you’d come tonight,” he admitted after a while.

you glanced at him. “why not?”

he shrugged, his gaze fixed on the water. “it’s been a long time. i figured… i don’t know, maybe you wouldn’t want to see me.”

his honesty caught you off guard. “i thought the same about you,” you admitted.

he looked at you then, his blue eyes searching yours. “i didn’t mean for us to stop talking, you know. life just… got in the way.”

you nodded. “yeah. same here.”

another silence settled over you, but this time it felt lighter.

“do you remember what we used to do down here?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you couldn’t help but smile back. “skipping rocks?”

“exactly.”

without another word, he bent down and picked up a flat, smooth stone, testing its weight in his hand before flicking it across the water. it skipped four times before sinking.

“not bad,” you teased, crouching down to find your own stone.

you took your time choosing the perfect one, then threw it with practiced precision. it skipped five times before disappearing beneath the surface.

“show-off,” quinn muttered, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

for the next few minutes, you fell into an easy rhythm, laughing and teasing each other as you tried to outdo one another. it felt like old times, as if the years of distance between you had melted away.

when you finally ran out of good skipping stones, you both sat down on the dock, your legs dangling over the edge. the sky had darkened, and the stars began to emerge, twinkling against the velvety blackness.

“it’s beautiful out here,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

“yeah, it is,” he replied, his voice soft.

he hesitated, as if debating whether to say what was on his mind. finally, he sighed and looked away, focusing on the rippling water.

“i’ve been thinking about this for years,” he began. “why we stopped talking. why i let it happen. i think… i was scared.”

“scared?” you echoed, your brows furrowing.

he nodded, his jaw tightening. “when i left for vancouver, i told myself i’d keep in touch with you. but then hockey got busy, everything got busy, and every time i thought about reaching out… i felt like i was too far removed from your life. like i didn’t belong in it anymore.”

your chest ached at his words. “quinn, you always belonged in my life. you’re the one who decided you didn’t.”

he winced, but he didn’t deny it. “i know. and i’m sorry. it wasn’t just hockey, though. i think… i was afraid you didn’t need me anymore. you seemed so happy, so independent. and me? i was just trying to keep my head above water, trying to live up to everyone’s expectations. it felt easier to let the distance grow than risk finding out i wasn’t as important to you as you were to me.”

you stared at him, your heart breaking for the boy you once knew and the man sitting in front of you now. “quinn, i thought the same thing about you. i figured you had this incredible life and i’d just be… a distraction. someone from your past you didn’t have room for anymore.”

he turned to face you fully, his blue eyes filled with regret. “you were never just someone from my past, y/n. you were… everything. you still are.”

tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away. “then why didn’t you fight for this? for us?”

he swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he replied, “because i didn’t think i deserved it.”

your breath hitched, and you reached out to take his hand in yours. “you deserved it. you deserved everything. i wish you’d just let me be there for you.”

“i’m trying now,” he said softly. “i don’t want to mess this up again.”

“you won’t,” you promised, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

he leaned in then, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you plenty of time to pull away. but you didn’t. instead, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a gentle, lingering kiss.

it was soft and sweet, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions you’d both kept buried for years.

when you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“is this okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

you smiled, your heart swelling with a mix of relief and happiness. “more than okay.”

you stayed there for a while, holding hands and sharing quiet kisses under the starry sky, as if no time had passed at all. it was as if the universe had given you a second chance, and you weren’t going to waste it.

some things were worth waiting for.

© amourquinn

[ariestrxsh]

shy!sub!chris x babysitter!reader

˚₊ · »-♡→ content warning: smut, mommy kink, age gap (Chris is 22 & reader is 28), praise, masturbation, handjob, hair pulling, innocence corruption

˚₊ · »-♡→ summary: chris runs into his old childhood babysitter, and their innocent reunion takes a turn when the two can't deny the sexual tension between them.

This fic was inspired/requested by this ask. 🤍

If the age gap or the fact that the reader used to babysit Chris bothers you, then don't read this fic ! The ones that get it, get it, and the ones that don't, dont.

Baby Sitter (part one)

"No way! Chris Sturniolo?" Your familiar voice broke Chris' attention away from his phone, his blue eyes first scanning over your red heels, your black tights, and then the grey dress suit you were wearing paired with a long, open black peacoat.

He was leaned up against the side of an old brick building with one hand in his hoodie pocket to keep it warm, waiting for the bus home. "Oh, my god! Hi!" He exclaimed, his face lighting up when he recognized you.

"You're so big!" You declared, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his messy, brown hair. The warmth of his embrace brought you some solace from the nearly freezing temperature of this brisk, winter afternoon.

Chris caught a hint of the floral perfume you'd been wearing for the past decade, and the memories of when you were both kids came flooding back to him.

"You must've been this tall the last time I saw you," you told him, holding your hand out and gesturing about three feet from the ground.

"Oh, come on. I haven't been that short since I was eight years old. You babysat me up until I was almost twelve," Chris chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes.

You glanced him over one more time. Chris had always been a cute kid, but now he was a handsome man. You scanned over his slightly muscular build, his sharp jawline, and the bit of stubble he had coming in on his face from not shaving the past few days.

"Can't believe that was ten years ago. You look good," you complimented him. "So do you," he replied, his voice textured with a hint of lust as his gaze danced over your breasts and your long legs.

"You taking the bus?" You asked him, motioning towards the bus schedule. "Yeah, but my bus won't be here for another half hour," he shrugged, looking around at the traffic building up. "Maybe longer," he faintly added.

"I could take you home," you warmly smiled at him, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" He wondered, surprised by your kind gesture.

"Of course. Still live in the same house? I think I still remember how to get there," you responded, crossing one lapel of your coat over the other, folding your arms, and raising your shoulders to your ears to fend off the cold.

"No, actually. I moved into my own apartment last year. It's probably pretty far out of the way if I'm being honest. I don't want to waste your time," Chris nervously chewed on his lip, staring down at his black converse.

"Don't be silly, Chris. I don't have anywhere to be," you reached out and gently squeezed his arm, reassuring him that your offer was genuine. "My car's over in that parking garage over there," you motioned towards the large structure across the street.

"Okay, sure. Thank you," Chris said, pulling his hood over his head as the chilly wind started to pick up. You stuffed your hands into your coat pockets, and the two of you started slowly meandering over in that direction, your heels click-clacking against the pavement, and Chris' sneakers pitter-pattering next to you.

"So, you're all grown up now. Got your own place, got your own job.." you smiled over at him. "Yeah, I do. I have my own car, too, but it's in the shop right now," he sighed.

"Is it gonna be expensive to fix?" You wondered aloud. "A little, but on the bright side, I'm saving money on gas walking and taking the bus to work," Chris shrugged, the corner of his lip turning up in a weak smile.

"What are you doing for work?" You asked, glancing both ways before crossing the street. "Landscaping, construction, some basic handy-man work," he answered you.

"Is that how you got these?" You flirtatiously squeezed his bicep. He scoffed and laughed, his heartbeat quickening as your touch lingered.

"What do you do for work?" He asked, flipping the question around on you and taking the attention off of himself. "See that little window right there? I work at that law firm," you told him, pointing up at the tall building a couple blocks away.

"No way! You're a lawyer?" He assumed, lifting his eyebrows. "No, just a paralegal," you responded, laughing. Chris didn't really understand the difference.

He thought about making a comment about you being dressed way too hot to be a lawyer, but he bit his tongue, worried that it might come out wrong.

"Hey, you're not in a rush to get home, are you?" You stopped, turning to him. "No. No hurry," Chris replied, shrugging his shoulders and secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

"There's a coffee shop about a block away. How about we go grab a drink and get out of the cold for a bit?" You suggested, the chill of the air biting at the tip of your nose. "That sounds nice," Chris nodded, following your lead.

"So, how's your mom doing?" You wondered, peering over at Chris. "She's doing well. She misses you. You were her favorite babysitter, you know. She'd always call you first when she needed someone to watch me," Chris admitted.

"Good. That means you didn't tell her I let you watch scary movies with me and stay up way past your bedtime," you joked. "Nope. Still haven't told her to this day," Chris responded, winking in your direction.

"Good boy," you said, ruffling his hair again. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and his face turned a bit red with embarrassment.

You didn't mean for that moment to create so much sexual tension between the two of you, but your eyes met for just a second, both of you conveying a look of desire. You both glanced away just as quickly, letting the moment pass.

You cleared your throat before speaking again. "So your mom. She still working at the hospital?" You wondered, rubbing your hands together to keep them warm before nestling them back into your big coat pockets. "Yeah, still working long hours," he replied.

You lead Chris down an alley tucked between two tall buildings where you were temporarily safe from the windchill. Chris ran his fingertips along the cold brick as he turned the corner, the rough surface leaving him with both a strange and satisfying sensation.

A comfortable silence lingered between you as you meandered down the path, not wanting to fill each other in too quickly on your lives to keep the visit from being cut short.

The sounds of the city moved around you, traffic bustling and people clamoring about. The city was like that, everyone always onto the next thing. It seemed like you and Chris were the only ones dragging out your steps, trying to pass the time instead of racing it.

You turned another corner, leading Chris back out into the strong winds as you pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear in an attempt to keep it from blowing wildy in your face.

Straight ahead tucked between an antique shop and a record store was the coffeehouse you frequented. You and Chris, once again, glanced both ways before crossing the street.

Despite the frigid air, Chris' palms had grown sweaty from his nervous energy. He felt like a little kid again in the presence of his pretty babysitter, who he'd always had a raging crush on, hoping you thought he was cool, or at the very least, not uncool.

He subtly wiped the perspiration off on the front of his jeans before reaching for the door with a shaky hand, holding it for you, and nodding for you to go through it.

The two of you shuffled into the warm, cozy lobby of the café, so warm that the first thing you did was remove your coat and sling it over your arm, prompting Chris' eyes to drop to the bit of exposed cleavage that peeked out over your neckline.

The ambience was just right, smooth jazz playing softly in the background, warm overhead lighting, and the hiss of milk being steamed to perfection. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet flavors wafted through the welcoming atmosphere.

Chris got a peppermint mocha, and you ordered a cortado, which Chris insisted on paying for, and you didn't put up a fight.

He'd always been sweet like that, even when you two were just kids. He was always holding doors open for you and waiting to eat his dinner until you'd taken your place at the table.

He was always considerate and gentleman-like, a product of his personality and his mother's good morals.

The two of you found a place to sit near the back next to a big window, and while the two of you were reminiscing on old memories, the server brought the two of you your drinks.

You thanked him, but when Chris' eyes landed on your coffee, his smile fell. "Hey, want me to go bring this back? I think they brought you the wrong thing," Chris offered.

"No, this is what I ordered!" You assured him. He stared inquisitively at your measly 4 oz drink, wondering what the appeal was.

"It's really good, Chris. I promise," you responded, reading his expression. "I'd ask for a taste, but I'd finish it off in one sip," he joked. You rolled your eyes, but you laughed along.

"So, are you still with Kyle?" He wondered aloud, staring down at your hands that were cupping your drink, searching for a wedding band or engagement ring.

"No," you told him, your hands retreating and falling into your lap. "He wasted my time, really. We were together for nine years and in the midst of our three-year-long engagement, he cheated on me," you scoffed.

"I knew I never liked that guy," Chris muttered, clenching his jaw. "I know you didn't. You'd always try to sit between us on the couch and interrupt us right when we were about to kiss," you recalled, the corner of your lip morphing into a faint smile.

It was hard for you to deny the little crush Chris had on you when he was a young boy, but sitting in front of him now in this coffee shop, admiring the way his features had aged like fine wine, you wondered if the tables had turned.

Chris bit back a smirk as he recalled a few times that he had "woken up" from a nightmare, pulling your attention away with your shitty boyfriend at the time so that you'd have to come to his rescue and comfort him. Kyle had even accused him of faking before.

"Kid always has a bad dream every time we're about to do it," he'd snarked at you once, pulling you back onto his lap, which caused a verbal disagreement to break out between the two of you.

"Kyle! You asshole! He's eleven! He's not thinking like that," You had whisper-yelled in response, pushing him away and following Chris to his bedroom to lull him back to sleep.

Chris had overheard the conversation from down the hall, but even now, over ten years later, he couldn't admit to you that most of the time, he was faking his nightmares.

No one had had the talk with Chris at this point, but he had a vague idea of what it meant when Kyle would stay the night, and he felt an incredible amount of jealousy when he would.

"How about you, Chris? You dating anyone? I bet the girls can't stay away from you," You flattered him, putting your drink to your lips and taking a sip.

He blushed and shook his head after drinking from his own coffee. "I've actually never had a serious girlfriend. Can't seem to get past the talking stage with girls," Chris nervously said, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, well, there's nothing wrong with that, Chris," you reassured him, pitifully running your thumb across the back of his hand. You meant for the gesture to be reassuring, but Chris found it condescending. He jerked his hand back.

"You think I'm a loser, don't you?" Chris huffed, peering out of the café window. "Chris. Look at me. Of course, I don't think that," you responded, studying his facial expressions.

"Of course, you do think that. I'm a twenty-two-year-old who's never.." Chris began to say, but he cut himself off, fearing he'd already said too much.

"Oh! You've never..?" You asked, your voice started to trail off. He didn't answer you, but his face turned a deep red.

"Chris, there's nothing wrong with that. I just assumed.. I just thought.. I'm just surprised. That's all," you managed to get out, foolishly stumbling over your words and wondering how someone you'd known for so long and who was so much younger than you was making you as nervous as you were.

"Why are you surprised?" He asked, your assumption taking him aback. "You're just so hot," you accidentally blurted out, astounding yourself with how forward your comment was.

"You think so?" He asked, his eyebrows flicking up in shock. He blushed a little harder, but his previously embarrassed expression morphed into something softer.

"I mean, you're conventionally attractive. You're a total gentleman. You just need a little confidence, and you'd be unstoppable," you stroked his ego, taking a sip of your coffee.

"You think I'm hot?" He wondered, still stuck on your compliment, his lips curling into a flattered smile. "Don't make me say it again," you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

Chris narrowed his gaze at you while he took a sip of his peppermint mocha. "What else do you think of me?" He inquired, locking eyes with you.

"I think any woman would be lucky to be your first," you replied, reaching out and stroking the back of his hand again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he relished in the soothing feeling of your thumb brushing against his knuckles.

"Any woman? Even you?" He suggested, surprising himself with the brief moment of confidence he found himself swept up in. The silence that followed his question was heavy, and the tension between the two of you was thick.

You wet your lips, studying his handsome facial features, but before you could answer, one of the coffee shop employees floated over to your table. They offered to take your empty cortado glass out of the way to which you pulled back your hand, nodded, and thanked them.

"I should take you home," you declared, softly smiling in Chris' direction. "Okay," Chris affirmed, taking his peppermint mocha to-go.

The two of you left the coffeeshop, putting back on all your layers before setting back out into the winter weather.

You made your way out the door, the whistling wind whirring past you as you wandered back to your car. You and Chris walked silently through the city streets and through the cobblestone alleys between the buildings that towered over Boston.

Your mind churned, worrying that you'd made the reunion awkward and quietly kicking yourself for your word choice in the coffeehouse.

"Here we are," you announced once the two you had reached the parking garage. You reached into your purse, retrieved your keys, and unlocked your car.

Chris turned to you with wide eyes, and his jaw dropped when he realized the black Mercedes was yours.

"Damn. When did you get rich?" He questioned you, opening the passenger side door and running his fingers along the dark red interior.

"I wouldn't say I'm rich," you scoffed, humbly shrugging before opening the driver's side door.

"I should've had you pay for my coffee," the blue-eyed boy joked, admiring the sleek look of your car and setting his drink in your cup holder. "Next time I will," you smiled at him as your engine roared to life.

You turned on your heater, and each of you shed a layer as the car started to warm up. "Alright, Chris. What's the address to your apartment complex?"

He read it off to you while you put it in your GPS. You carefully backed out of your parking spot and navigated your way onto the main road towards his place.

"So, I mean, it's been eleven years. What else has been going on in your life besides dumping Kyle and getting rich?" Chris playfully inquired.

"A lot, actually. After high school, I took a year off. Then when I went back to school and got my bachelor's degree in law. I worked at a few places as a secretary before finally finding this job about three years ago shortly after Kyle and I broke it off, and I've been making good money ever since," you told him.

"I even bought my first house last year by myself," you added, trying not to sound too cocky but unable to hide how proud you were.

"That's amazing. I love a strong, independent woman," Chris smirked, sipping on his coffee, his gaze lingering on you as you focused on the road ahead.

"How about you, Chris? What have you been up to since I last saw you?" You returned the question.

You spent the rest of the car ride catching up with Chris, getting to know him all over again. It was surprising and comforting how many things about him hadn't changed - his sweet and shy demeanor, his mannerisms, and his laugh.

The parts of him that did change, you liked - his matured features and his deep, sexy voice.

While the two of you were chatting and approaching an intersection, someone ran a red light, causing you to slam down on the brake pedal. Chris spilled his drink, sending coffee dripping down the front of his white t-shirt.

"Shit," he muttered. "Are you okay?" You asked, your heart racing while you tried to catch your breath. You pulled off onto the shoulder of the road to collect yourself.

"I'm fine. I just feel like an idiot for spilling in your car," Chris sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his shirt off over his head.

"It's not your fault, Chris. It doesn't.. it doesn't even look like you got it anywhere besides.." You managed to get out as you motioned towards his shirt that was no longer on his body.

Your eyes dropped to his chest, his arms, and to his stomach. He caught you staring and smirked in your direction. You immediately pulled your eyes off him and placed them back onto the road in front of you, clearing your throat.

"Sorry about that," you said, half-apologizing for making him spill and half-apologizing for ogling him like a creep. "Don't be sorry," he paused. "About anything."

His eyes lingered on you, biting down on his bottom lip. He wondered if you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

You turned down a few unfamiliar streets, following the GPS directions into the complex where Chris lived.

"Take this road all the way down, and you can park at any of those unmarked spaces on the left," he instructed you. You pulled into a spot and threw the gear shifter into park.

"Well, here we are!" You exclaimed, glancing over at Chris, your eyes dancing over his stature one more time. "Thank you so much for the ride. It really means a lot. So much better than taking the bus," Chris remarked, smiling at you.

"Hey, if you want, I can wash your shirt for you. I'm pretty good at getting stains out," you suggested, extending your hand and offering to take his shirt.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you," Chris responded, handing it off to you and getting ready to get out of the car.

"Hey, wait! Before you go, let's exchange numbers. You know, that way I can return this once it's washed," you proposed. Chris agreed, trying not to sound too eager and reaching for his phone that was tucked into his pocket.

You swapped contact information with him, told him to call anytime, and ruffled his hair again.

"Hey. Do you wanna come inside? I can give you a tour," Chris offered, not wanting to say goodbye to you just yet.

"Sure," you nodded, cutting the engine and following Chris up the stairs to his place.

You couldn't keep your eyes off the muscles in his back. He placed his key into the lock, turning it until he heard a faint click. He pushed open the door and motioned for you to enter first.

It was a typical twenty-something-year-old man's apartment - clothes strewn on the floor, a few dishes stacked in the sink, and a couch in the living room pointed at a TV.

He had stacks of video games, naughty magazines, and a few empty soda cans scattered on his coffee table. His place was a little unorganized, but it wasn't filthy.

"Sorry about the mess," Chris apologized, scurrying over to the dirty magazines and stuffing them under his sofa cushion when he thought you weren't paying attention.

"Uh, I'll show you my room," he mumbled, leading the way to his bedroom door. His sheets were thrown lazily onto his twin-sized bed, and he didn't have much else in his room besides a wooden nightstand.

"If you need to use the bathroom, it's right there," Chris motioned towards the door across the hall. You followed him back out towards the front door.

"And the kitchen," he motioned towards the small room with the fridge in it. "I know it's not much," Chris shrugged.

"But it's your first place by yourself, and that's a big deal. I'm really proud of you!" You warmly smiled, pulling him into another hug.

Your fingerstips glided across his shirtless back, and blood immediately rushed to his dick.

"Thanks! It's relatively cheap, too," Chris remarked, pulling away and making over towards the couch in the living room.

He plopped down onto the furniture and pulled a throw pillow onto his lap, hoping he was being discrete. He wasn't.

You took a seat on his couch beside him, shifting uncomfortably about on his lumpy cushion. You decided to mess with him a bit.

"C'mon, don't look at those," he nervously whined as you reached under the sofa cushion, retrieving a few dirty magazines. Your lips curled into a devious smile as you flipped through one.

"You might be a virgin, but you're not that innocent, are you?" You cooed.

He buried his face in his hands while you sifted through the images of naked girls, half-expecting you to start making fun of him or tell him how disgusting he was for getting off to such content.

When you didn't, he peeked back up at you. You looked more intrigued than anything. You crossed your legs and squeezed them together as you imagined him rubbing one out while his dreamy, blue eyes struggled to focus on the page.

"Why don't you show me what you do with them?" You cooed. "Wh-what do you mean?" He timidly asked.

"Don't play dumb, pretty boy," you leaned in, whispering into his ear, gently planting a kiss on the side of his neck. "You know exactly what I mean. Show me."

His eyes fluttered closed, and his jaw fell open as he processed your request. "Uh huh," he nodded, his heart beating in his ears as his shaky, sweaty hand reached for the button on his pants.

"Say, yes, mommy," you sensually whispered against his flesh that was radiating heat. "Yes, mommy," he articulated, putting a lustful emphasis on the final word.

With your tongue licking a stripe up his neck, you heard the soft zip of his jeans being undone. You felt him start pumping away his length. You suckled gently on his skin.

"Ahh," a faint gasp snuck past his lips, his breath shallowing. You pulled away to catch a glimpse of what was between his legs.

"Wow," you purred, zeroing in on his swollen, mushroom-shaped head. Another pretty moan unfurled from his pink, parted lips while he caressed his sensitive tip.

"Look at that," you gasped, admiring the way precum started drooling from his slit while he played with it. "Good boy," you quietly praised him while his slender fingers were wrapped around his length, stroking it up and down at a quickening pace.

"I just know you fuck hard," you sinfully purred into his ear, his grip around his cock growing tighter. He threw his head back, giving you better access as you went back to suckling on his neck.

"Mommy, I need you," Chris relayed in a strangled moan, desperation seeping into his tone. "What do you need, Chris? Use your words, pretty boy," you cooed. A smirk played into the corner of his mouth as he listened to your praise.

"Show me what it's like to be touched by a woman," he quietly requested. "Where do you want me to touch you, baby? Right here?" You teased, gently tapping his tip with the end of your pointer finger.

"Yes, mommy. Right there," he eagerly affirmed. You gently caressed the back of the head, tracing his veins with your fingertips. You tightened your grip, replacing his own hand with yours.

He let go, letting you take the reigns as a needy whine drifted to your ears. "Yes, mommy," he replied.

You tilted his chin to face you, and you leaned in, locking your lips with his, his faint whimpers vibrating against your mouth.

He couldn't believe he was kissing you, his childhood babysitter, the woman he'd been fantasizing about for over a decade. He still wasn't convinced that this wasn't some sort of vivid dream or intense reverie.

You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other, gripping his length and pumping it at a steady pace. His hard cock involuntarily throbbed in your grasp.

"Look at me, baby," you whispered after you pulled away from the kiss, but only by a few inches. "Is it everything you wanted it to be, pretty boy?" You wondered, holding his gaze with your nose gently brushing against his while you tugged on his messy locks.

"Yes, mommy," he answered, his features and his voice saturated in lust. You looked into his pretty blue eyes while you stroked him faster and faster, feeling his cock twitch at the sensation.

He was so eager to be played with by you that he could barely contain himself.

You watched the muscles in his face tighten, his eyebrows knitting together and his eyes squeezing shut. He shuddered under your touch.

He clutched the couch cushion beneath him with both hands, curling his fingers and his toes as you brought him to climax.

A slew of guttural moans filled the room as he finished, his load squirting from his tip and painting his chest and his stomach, a bit of cum pooling into his belly button.

The warm, white substance dripped down onto your hand as you brought your movements to a standstill.

You released his soft, brown hair from your tight grasp, and he sank into the soft sofa. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he tried to regulate his breathing. He had never felt that much pleasure before.

Embarrassment flooded his system when he realized it took all of about four minutes for him to cum.

"I'm sorry I finished so fast," he mumbled breathlessly as he giggled and hid his face in his hands, reverting back to his shy nature.

"Don't be sorry, baby. About anything. You were such a good boy for me. Next time I'll show you how to last longer."

˚₊ · »-♡→ to be continued ...

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[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 17)

summary: hugh comes back home… and you’re surprisingly better than he expected. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: smut (18+ mdni), shower sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, brief mention of toxic relationship (not with hugh!), no use of y/n. word count: 2.5k a/n: so sorry for such a delay in posting this! i really do appreciate every single one of you who has been along this journey with me - this story originally started as a one-shot and here we are, 17 parts later with two more left to go. hope you all enjoy this one! as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part.

The article lingers in your mind, but you focus solely on trying to move forward. Hugh calls you every morning and every night, making sure to send you a few texts during the day just to make sure that you’re doing okay. Surprisingly, you’ve spent the rest of the week at the gym and talking with your trainer. It helps knowing that you have someone other than Hugh that you can talk to about this. 

Hugh’s supposed to be back tonight and you do a quick boxing workout, dressed in a pair of spandex shorts and a sports bra. You’re eager to get home, to make sure dinner is ready for him by the time he gets here because you’re sure that he’s going to be tired by the time he’s home. You’re drenched in sweat, hands still wrapped in your hand wraps and your hair in a single braid. When you park your car in the garage and climb out, you’re surprised to hear quiet music playing from the kitchen. You look around in excitement, seeing Hugh’s shoes and his bag near the door. 

“Hugh?” you call out, dropping your duffle bag next to his luggage as you remove your shoes. You quickly walk to the kitchen, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “You’re here!” 

Hugh looks up at you and smiles, walking over to you as his arms extend outwards for you. You run towards him, jumping into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist. Your arms wrap around his strong shoulders, face burying into the side of his neck as his strong arms hold you up. 

“Wanted to surprise you,” he smiles. “Managed to get an earlier flight.” 

“I missed you,” you whisper, pulling back enough to look down at him as he walks you to the kitchen counter and sets you on the edge. 

Hugh’s eyes take in your frame, biting his lower lip as he looks at you from top to bottom. “I missed you.” his voice lowers, large hands moving to your thighs as he spreads them open to stand between your legs. “Coming from the gym?” 

You nod, hands moving to his hair. “Just a quick boxing workout. Wanted to get home before you so I can make dinner, but… Well, here you are.”

“Here I am,” Hugh chuckles. “You look–” he growls lowly. “You look amazing, baby.”

“I’m all sweaty,” you giggle. 

“And I just came from the airport. Wanna take a shower?” 

You grin and nod instantly. “Yes, please.” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he smiles, leaning in to peck your lips lightly. “Such a good girl already.” Hugh pulls back and hoists you over his shoulder, grinning to himself as he hears you let out a quiet gasp. 

“Hugh!” you giggle, feeling him walk towards the stairs and ascend it with ease. “Baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Hugh chuckles, “No, I’m not. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this with you.” 

“But you’re tired–”

“Shh,” he says, setting you on your feet once inside the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you undressed.”

You smile to yourself and begin to unwrap your boxing wraps, biting your lower lip as you feel the throbbing between your legs become more prominent. “A month’s been too long,” you whisper, dropping one set of hand wraps on the floor.

Hugh nods, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. He pulls you flush against him as he watches you undo the other set of hand wraps, leaning in to gently press his lips on your forehead. “I know,” he says softly. “My hand can only do so much.” 

You gasp, your hands finally free of the hand wraps as you move your gaze to him. “You– You touched yourself at the thought of me?” 

“Every night,” he answers, lips moving along your jawline. “Saved some pictures of you too.” 

“Naughty,” you whimper, feeling his teeth graze over your pulse point as your heart rate picks up even faster. “You’ll  have to go over in great detail what you did…” 

Hugh smirks and moves his hands to your backside, gripping both cheeks tightly to press you firmly against his front. “Won’t be as exciting as what I’m about to do to you, baby.”

You bite your lower lip and pull away from him to drop your spandex shorts and panties to the floor, followed by lifting your sports bra over your head. You stare at him, watching his own eyes widen at the sight of your exposed frame. You turn around to turn on the water in the shower, reaching your hand out to feel the temperature of the water. 

Hugh’s eyes rake over you from behind, immediately tugging down his sweat pants and boxers and reaching for the ends of his shirt. He looks down at himself, his manhood leaking and erect, throbbing painfully. He takes two long strides and wraps his arms around you from behind, one hand reaching up to cover your breast. His length slides between your cheeks as he rolls his hips against you, feeling you lean back against him.

“God, I missed you so bad, baby,” Hugh whispers, kneading your breast into the pit of his palm as he lowers his head to pepper light kisses along your bare shoulder. His other hand moves lower between your legs, running the pads of his fingertips along the length of your sex. He feels your wetness instantly and he smirks, slowly applying pressure to your bundle of nerves.

“Hugh,” you whimper, head tilting back to rest against his shoulder and exposing more of your neck for him. 

Hugh turns his head and lightly presses his lips against your neck, teeth gently grazing as he pushes his hips into you from behind. His precome smears across your backside as he pulls back to turn you around. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. “Not leaving the house for a week,” he mumbles against your lips. “Want you all to myself, baby.” 

Slowly, you pull away and move your hands to his shoulders. “Then take me inside the shower.” 

Hugh grins broadly and nods, stepping into the large shower with you. Warm water cascades down both of your bodies and he watches you bring your hands up to move your hair away from your face. He watches you lovingly, the droplets of water trickling down your body. Despite his throbbing erection, he reaches for your body wash and lathers the liquid into his palms before he reaches for you. Gently, he rests his hands on your shoulders and begins massaging the suds into your body. “I love you,” he whispers, feeling your hands move to his hair, stroking his wet locks away from his eyes. 

You whimper, feeling his large hands move down your body, thumbs now brushing against your nipples as the suds from your body wash lathers your body the more he moves lower. “I love you too, Hugh,” you moan quietly. “Need you, baby. Please…”

“Shh, I know,” he leans in and lightly pecks your lips. His hand moves between your legs, lips brushing against your jawline as the water continues to wash away the suds. Hugh uses two fingers to run along the length of your sex, feeling your slickness coat the pads of his fingertips. He moves his lips to your earlobe, gently nipping at it as he slides two of his fingers inside of your tight heat, letting out a low groan. “Already so wet for me,” he whispers. 

“Always so wet for you,” you moan, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist, opening yourself up more for him. 

Hugh groans and slowly begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, your moans like music to his ears as it filters the entire bathroom. He feels your fingernails dig into the skin at his shoulders, gripping him so tightly as he thrusts his fingers into the knuckle. His name leaves your lips repeatedly and he smirks to himself, curling his fingers within your depths. 

“Hugh!” your body trembles as you reach down for his wrist and gently push him away, your high becoming too much for you to handle. Your chest heaves rapidly, trying to catch your breath as you stare up at him. “Fuck…”

“Ain’t done with you yet,” he growls. Hugh presses you back against the wall of the shower, keeping your leg lifted as he reaches down to take hold of his hardened length. He stares into your eyes as he pushes the head of his manhood past your folders, groaning at the feel of your warmth surrounding him. He pushes into you all the way, your tightness encompassing his throbbing length. Leaning forward, he presses his forehead against yours as his free hand comes up to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip. “Missed this, missed you,” he says breathlessly. 

You keep your hands laced together at the nape of his neck, holding onto him so tightly as you feel every inch of his throbbing manhood. He pulls back to his tip, only to slide back into you; his thrusts are slow, deep, and you feel everything. His breath fans across your lips as he breathes heavily, eyes staring solely into yours. 

Hugh grunts, his thumb dips into your mouth and you take it eagerly, sucking on his digit as his hips slowly begin to pick up in speed. “Never gonna be away from you for that long,” he whispers. “Taking you everywhere I go from now on.”

“Y–Yes,” you agree with a nod, tongue swirling around his thumb. “Hugh, please…”

“Tell me what you need,” Hugh says quietly. 

“Fuck me like you mean it.” you demand, teeth grazing the tip of his thumb. 

“Fuck,” he groans with a smile. Hugh removes his hand from your cheek and lifts you into his arms, hands now splaying underneath your ass cheeks as he thrusts into you. He keeps your back firmly pressed against the wall of the shower as his hips slam into yours repeatedly; the sound of your moans mixing in with the water that slaps against your skin. It’s so obscene, the sounds you’re making, the sounds your bodies are producing. 

He will never get enough of this.

He will never get enough of you. 

Your arms tighten around his shoulders, feeling your walls begin to tremble once more as you get closer and closer to your second orgasm. “Hugh, oh god, baby, I’m–”

“I know,” he groans. “Can fucking feel you trembling, baby.” 

He moves one hand to rest against the wall of the shower, holding you with one arm as his muscles flex with each thrust forward. The feel of his length thrusting in and out of you, sliding along your walls cause your legs to tighten even further around his waist, holding him flush against you.

“Hugh!” you exclaim loudly, rolling your hips against his as you ride out yet another orgasm. 

Hugh groans, watching the way your face contorts into pleasure, feeling the way your walls tighten even further around his length. He leans in and presses his lips against yours, water cascading down your bodies as his thrusts begin to falter. His hips stutter against your own, feeling the tightness build and build in the pit of his stomach. With one more thrust, he slams into you fully as he paints your walls with his come. His own body shakes with the intensity of his own orgasm, pulling away from your lips to let out a low groan. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. Gently, Hugh slowly pulls out and sets you on your feet, staring down at you with a smile. “I love you.”

You nod in agreement, looking down between your legs as you watch his come trickle down. “I love you too,” you smile, gently standing on your toes to peck his lips. 

—

Later that night, you lie in bed with Hugh, bodies tangled in the sheets as his arms wrap around your frame. You’re resting your head against his strong chest as you stare up at him, smiling to yourself. 

“Can I say something?” he asks quietly.

“Always.” 

“You’re– You’re doing surprisingly better than I thought you’d be,” Hugh says honestly. 

You shrug. “I’ve done a lot of thinking this last week… And boxing also helped.” 

He brings one hand to cup your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You nod, turning your head to kiss the inside of his wrist before you sit up and bring the sheet to cover your upper half. You look down at him and sigh quietly, turning your gaze to look outside the large windows of the night sky of the city skyline. “The article really hurt. The words that were said really hurt. The comments… Everything.”

Hugh nods, turning to lie on his side as he props his head on his palm. He looks up at you and gently reaches over with his free hand to rest over you. “It hurt me too, but only because everything that was said was a lie.” 

“I’m really tired of letting Jack run my life,” you admit quietly. “I’m tired of running away, of not dealing with it…”

“I don’t blame you, you know,” Hugh says. “He hurt you really badly… I understand why you’d just want to… forget everything.”

“I just thought that once he had broken up with me, that would be the end of it. That I’d finally get to be free of him,” you sigh.

“A person like that…” he shakes his head with a sigh. “They won’t ever want to see you happy.”

You nod, taking his hand and gently playing with his fingers. You let out a quiet sigh as your mind drifts to Jack, to your relationship with him. It pains you to even think back to the moments you had with him because at one point, you really did love him.   

Biting your lower lip, you finally ask, “Does our age gap bother you? Do you think that I only want you for your money?”

Hugh shakes his head. “No and no.” Sighing, he sits up with you and leans over to kiss your temple. “Our age gap is just a number to me… and you were already successful before we met.”

“Is this… What if someone better comes along? Someone that knows this life,” you ask quietly, motioning around his bedroom with your hand. “I’m just me. I’m no celebrity…” 

“There is no one better than you, baby.” Hugh wraps his arm around your shoulders and holds you close to his side. “You being you is one of the reasons why I fell in love with you.”

“But what if–”

Hugh interrupts you and shakes his head. “You’re it for me,” he says seriously. “You’re the only one that I’ll ever want.”

You move to look up at him, hand coming up to rest on his cheek. “Hugh…”

“My swole mate,” he whispers with a smile. “I’d spend the rest of my life loving you if you let me.”

—-

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 2

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

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

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn’t all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

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

Stevie Nicks drones in your ear, her tones added to the airiness of the condo space. The melody guides your diligent work along with the list on your phone. The shelves should be done before the counters, so as to not do the same job twice. 

You look around for the step stool. There was a collapsible one there, nestled by the pantry. It’s not there that day. You guess Bucky wouldn’t have much use for it. He can probably reach everything just fine. You don’t want to be nosy by going on a full-blown search. You’ll just have to do your best. 

You stand on your toes and reach up blindly. Great. You’ll not get close to even the second highest shelf. Instead of cupboard doors, the plates are stacked openly on the shelves that line the brick. You like the look. Simple but tidy. 

You are going to have to find the stool if you want to do it right-- 

“Oop!” You exclaim as pressure clamps around your hips and suddenly, your feet are off the floor. You wriggle and grab onto the shelf to keep from flailing. 

You crane to see over your shoulder, looking back at Bucky as he holds you aloft. There’s no effort in the act. You’re nothing but a feather in his hands. You feel powerless in his grasp. You don’t dare to tell him to put your down or ask why he snuck up on you. 

“You can reach?” He asks. 

You nod and turn away from his stern expression. Despite the helpful act, he remains stoic and unreadable. You hate the sensation of having nothing between your feet and the height makes you slightly woozy. You’ll just have to be quick. 

You wipe along the top of the shelves as he sidles you along the length. An awkward tension crawls up your body from beneath his hold on you. His fingertips dip into your flesh as he keeps you steady. 

You do the next shelf, moving the plates to wipe beneath them before placing them back. It’s a delicate balance. Once you get to the third, you find your voice. You pause your music as you eke, “I can reach the rest, sir.” 

“You sure?” He checks with you. 

You nod. He puts you down gently, crowding you against the counter for a moment before he moves away. He turns and opens the metal fridge. You focus on your task, peeking briefly over as he pivots back to the other end of the counter. 

His hair is pulled back behind his head but several strands hang loose around his face. He has a black tank on, his thick arms exposed, flesh and metal, and a pair of shiny track pants on the bottom. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he loads the blender. He clears away the scraps and rinses off the spoon and knife he dirtied in his task. 

He hits the button and the blender whirs loudly. He angles to lean on the arm of the counter and reaches into his pants pockets. He takes out a long strip of fabric and stars to wind it around his wrist and hand. You’ve seen those. The things that boxers wear. 

He does only his real hand. The blender stops and he turns to fill a shaker with the smoothie. He goes for the sink and you clear your throat. 

“I can get that,” you offer. 

He glances over and shrugs. He grabs his shaker and doffs it at you with a nod. He passes you and heads for the stairs. You peek after him then move to rinse out the blender. That wasn’t terrible. You hope.  

You’ve done your best not be in his way since that first day. You’re still paranoid by his cryptic stares and long silences. You never minded quiet but this is the sort that gnaws at you. Aside from that, the job is manageable. 

You shiver as your hip brushes against a draw. You’re reminded of the weight of his hand there. Both his hands, around you, so easily holding you up. And what did you do but let him. 

The first heavy thump makes you wince. You spin and look up to the open hatch. He must have a bag up there or something. That makes sense since he wrapped his hand. He looked ready for a workout. It must be good stress relief to just punch something you can’t hurt. 

You tap play on your music. Heart starts to play. Your taste is a bit out dated but there’s no one to judge you. At the same time, you don’t have anyone to share it with. Sadly, most of the artists you love, you can’t even see in concert anymore. If you could ever afford that. 

The steady pounding of the punching bag continues from above. After a while, it’s almost comforting. You finish the kitchen and move on to the front room. As you fluff the couch pillows, the beating stops. There’s a hiss and Bucky snarls as he comes down the stairs swiftly. 

“Shit,” he hops past the last few steps and marches into the kitchen. You watch him in confusion as he raises his metal arm. He holds it up as he looks down and touches his side. He curses again as he swipes paper towel from the roll mounted to the wall. 

“Some help, doll?” He tosses over his shoulder. 

He’s talking to you. Right? You drop the pillow and take your earbud completely out. Something’s wrong. 

As you come around the arm of the counter, he turns to you, revealing the wet stain on his tank top. He holds out the paper towel with his other hand. “Pressure.” 

He gestures to his ribs. You take the paper towel with a tremble and push it against his middle. He puffs behind his teeth and reaches to his extended metal arm. You see the panel sticking out. It must’ve cut him. 

“Damn thing.” He growls. 

You blink and look at your hand. His blood seeps through and stains your fingers. You can smell the iron. You gape at the crimson smear as your heart pumps wildly. He pushes the panel flat and lowers his arm. He puts his hand over yours, spreading his thick fingers to completely cover yours. 

“You don’t like blood, do you?” He says. “I can hear your heart.” 

You slip your hand from beneath his as he takes the paper towel. He crumples up the sopping square and tuts. You turn and rush over to your kit. You fish out the pouch you keep tucked behind the sponges. You unzip it and return to him as you pluck out the roll of gauze. 

He considers the offer before he accepts it. Your eyes meet as his fingers brush yours. You quiver as his gaze bores through you. 

“You should wash your hands,” he takes the pouch too. “I got this.” 

He turns and stirs through the contents. You look at your hands then the sink. You go to the counter and twist the faucet on. What an unusual day. 

[bbearthyy]

JJ and John B have shared everything since they were 8

~~~

this is just a lil something i was thinking about this morning and figured i could write to ring in the new year. it’s kinda short sorry😭

Smut!!! MDNI

they’d figured it out very quickly - how to share things. john b shared with jj because he could, jj shared with john b because he had to. they both knew this and were perfectly fine with it.

the first time jj slept over at the chateau they shared the bed. jj was supposed to sleep on the couch but there was a thunderstorm roaring outside, and the noise terrified him. jj poked his head into john b’s room seeking comfort and before he knew it he was waking up, cuddled so closely to john b in his small twin bed that it was hard for them to decipher where one ended and the other began. it became instinct at that point. every morning that they woke up together (which was almost every morning, as long as jj snuck back into his home before his dad awoke) john b would give jj his clothes to wear, and jj would give john b a hat to borrow. they shared a plate at breakfast when food was low, shared toothpaste, and of course all of john bs toys were jjs as well. and as they grew older they shared bigger things, such as their vehicles, beers, their surf boards, girls.

so it should come as no surprise that they had to share you. john b never understood how jj bagged a girl as pretty as you, but he couldn’t think too much on it right now. couldn’t think at all really. your back was pressed against his chest, arm reached behind you to jerk him off. your legs were spread wide, jj’s strong hands pinning your thighs to the bed as he ate you like a man starved. you didn’t think he could get any deeper, but john b reached out anyways, placing a firm hand on the back of jjs head and pushing, forcing jj to press even further into you. you wanted to pull away, worried that the blonde couldn’t breathe, but by the time you could grasp a coherent thought you were cumming. your juices spilled all over jjs face, meanwhile john bs hand kept him pressed into you, giving the blonde no where to go, not that he would’ve pulled away if he could. your hand kept stroking john bs thick cock even as your orgasm rushed through you, and he soon was cumming too, release spilling over your back. it was lucky your long hair was pulled up into an updo, otherwise it would’ve been ruined by john bs massive load.

you were still awake, fighting the aftershocks of your orgasm, but your eyes were fluttering shut. jj took note of this once he was able to pull back from your center, reaching a hand up to swiftly but gently tap the side of your face. “hey,” he mumbled, “don’t forget about me sweet girl. papa j needs some loving too.” he sealed the deal with a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before he pulled away. you giggled at his words, body going lax as he picked you up, laying you back onto the bed on your stomach beside john b. jj spread your legs, squeezing your thighs as a silent way of saying keep them open. john b laid down beside you, hand gently caressing your cheek and murmuring words of praise as jj stripped out of his shorts. your eyes had closed once more, relaxing under john bs gentle touch and kind words, but abruptly snapped right back open. jj has his thick cock in his hand, smacking the heavy tip against your clit. you moaned out, making the blonde chuckle. “oh baby,” he began, “i haven’t even done anything yet.” but it didn’t matter. because then he was reaching up with his other hand to grab your hip, the hand on his cock pushing it forward, forcing his way into your gummy walls. “fuck mama,” jj panted out, clearly wanting to say more but being unable to after feeling your wetness around him. the blonde began moving immediately, heavy sack smacking against your clit with every thrust. you were soaked, arousal spilling out all over jjs cock. his eyes rolled back into his head, hips slamming harder into yours. john b reached out, grabbing onto jjs hand to pull the boy back into reality. the blonde smiled gratefully, looking at his best friend, before his head turned towards yours. “‘m gonna fucking ruin you.”

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 4/7

summary: part 4 of my short story naive! the four of you go to the club and while the couple are still fighting, you and hamzah act on your feelings a lil more. but it can only go so well for so long…

contains: SFW content, some kissing and touchy touchy ;)

w/c: 2.5k-ish

a/n: i couldn’t let you guys go into the new year without updating this story. im the worst but tysm for the support yall are so sweet i could cry xxxx enjoy!!!<3 read the a/n at the end if u care to know more

~

The couple's bad mood was not simply slept off and it's ruining your vibe.

You and Mandy are getting ready in their en suite bathroom while Hamzah and Martin speak in hushed tones in the bedroom. The bathroom door is open, and every so often you look at the space over your shoulder in the mirror and make eye contact with Martin from the bed. He looks away immediately, not at all subtle. It's like a game at this point, seeing how many times you can catch him in the act.

"Is he gonna do this all night," you mumble, applying your mascara after yet another match of eye-tag.

"We could just close the door," Mandy offers. She pays no mind to the childish behavior behind you, straightening her hair without sparing him a single glance.

"You're so right," you say and get up to shut it yourself.

Once your makeup is pretty much done, you decide to start getting dressed. You turn the music on her speaker up and give yourself a once-over in the mirror, holding different outfits beside your body to see what you want to wear for the night.

"I don't know what to wear. Wanna match?" you ask, placing your chin on top of her head to stop her movements. She nearly clamps your neck with the straightener. "Hey!"

"Sure," she laughs. "Grab my suitcase, please."

You put your clothes back down and step out of the bathroom to bring her suitcase in. You shimmy it out of its place by the TV stand, not missing the way the boys go completely silent until you're gone.

"Top zipper, the satin blue dress," Mandy instructs.

You hand it to her and sit by your own bag of clothes to rummage through it. You find a top and skirt set in a similar baby blue color then hold it up for her to see.

"Yes, no, yes?"

"Yes, definitely."

You apply your lip combo and take a few silly photos in the mirror with Mandy, your made up faces clashing with your baggy tees. One of the better photos are posted on your Instagram story for fun. When you finally get changed—you guys had a dance break to some y2k club classics—you put your heels on and realize you need a little pregame.

When you walk into the bedroom this time, the boys are leaned against the headboard and on their phones, mindlessly scrolling. You go by Martin's side of the bed and poke him repeatedly until he looks up.

"Do you happen to have the penjamin on you?"

"That depends," he says, putting his hand in his pocket. "What's the magic word?"

You roll your eyes. "Please?"

He pulls the little device out of his pocket and presents it to you in his palm. When you go to grab it, he makes a fist and holds it above his head.

"Please who?"

"I'm not calling you Daddy," you scoff, prying his fingers open and snatching the pen from his grasp. He barely puts up a fight. "That's Hamzah's job."

At the mention of his name, Hamzah looks up and seems like he's about to say something to retaliate but freezes. His gaze drags down your figure and you blush.

"Maybe it's not his job," Martin says smugly, "since you made him speechless."

Hamzah snaps out of it and elbows his friend in the side.

“It would be your girlfriend's job if you weren't being petty right now."

You wince at the sullen expression that washes over Martin's face.

"Right."

All you can do is watch as he clambers off the bed and walks out of the room. You lean against the wall and slide the balcony door open with a sigh.

"He can't seriously be that mad," Hamzah says. "I was kidding."

"He can dish it, but he can't take it," you say, too used to his behavior. "And he's extra sensitive right now, so."

"Well, they better not ruin our night with that stuff." Hamzah crosses his arms.

"I won't let them."

"Yeah?" Hamzah snorts. "What're you gonna do about it?"

"Um." You take a hit and blow the smoke outside. "I'll think of something if I need to step in."

Hamzah laughs at your empty threat and you smile. You take another hit before offering the dab pen to him.

"I have a feeling I should be sober for tonight."

"Boring," you sing out. "It'll be fine. C'mon, feel my peer pressure."

You wiggle your fingers at him and he shakes his head, laughing lightly. When he silently puts his hand out a few seconds later, you cheer. The room fills with the loud music from Mandy's speaker as he takes his first hit.

"So," you begin, already feeling slightly heady. "What were you guys whispering about earlier?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Really?"

He nods. "It was partly about their fight. Partly the trip. And you."

"Me?" You point at yourself with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I can't divulge the details."

"That's bullshit."

"I never ask what you guys say about me."

"Hey—I don't—what?" you stutter, unable to come up with a defense.

"C'mon," he says, tilting his head. "I'm not that oblivious."

Your eyes narrow. You've never once considered that this cupid thing Martin was pulling on you could have gone both ways. You don't know if you're relieved for him stepping in to push his friend closer to you, or annoyed that he's even meddling in this whole thing. It makes you wonder if Martin knows what happened by the time he and Mandy returned to the beach last night.

"Speaking of details." You clear your throat. "Do you even know what club we're going to?"

Your attempt at changing the topic is weak, but as per usual, Hamzah rolls with it to save you any embarrassment.

"No clue. Martin keeps his trip itinerary locked in his notes."

The conversation devolves into a bunch of what if's about the night and jokes that are only funny because you guys are high. When Mandy finally comes to join and sees the state of you two, you offer her a hit.

"What? No drinks?" She frowns.

"Hotel alcohol is like twenty bucks a pop! This is the next best thing."

"Ugh, fine. Give it."

With the three of you thoroughly blitzed, you collect Martin from the living room couch and make your way out of the hotel. He doesn't speak for a majority of the walk, and you think that's the longest you've ever heard him be quiet in a group setting.

Despite it being nearly 10 P.M., the air is pretty humid and forgiving on your exposed skin. The other thing about it being so late already, is that the club is absolutely chock-full of people when you enter. The dance floor of strangers are nearly toe to toe in proximity, and you wrap your arm with Mandy's to avoid getting separated in the crowd. The boys immediately beeline to the bar for drinks, but you don't let that stop your journey. You maneuver your way to the front of the stage and only let go of each other once you've found a bit of space to dance in.

The DJ nods at the two of you and you turn to raise your eyebrows suggestively at Mandy, who pushes your shoulder and continues dancing. You get lost in the beat, swaying and bouncing with the vibrations traveling through your limbs. The strobe lights illuminate your sweaty skin and you swear the energy in the room has you feeling higher. You begin grinding on each other and throw your heads back to laugh, trying to catch your breaths in between a multitude of bodies.

"Hey!" Mandy places her arms around your shoulders to catch your attention and you take it as a sign to grind on her. "I'm going to grab drinks.”

"No!" You turn and put your hands over hers. "Don't go!"

"I'll be right back!" She grins and squeezes you before letting go to disappear into the crowd.

Alone, you turn back to the stage and throw your hands in the air. You close your eyes for a moment, the pounding beats making a home in your brain. You're sure your ears will be ringing when you leave.

You wonder if Martin's drunk himself into a coma yet and knowing him, you know how easy that could be. You only hope this outing tonight doesn't make him do anything he regrets. Then you remember he’s a twenty-five year old man and you’re worrying about him while you’re supposed to be having fun. So, you shut your brain off and let the beat carry you.

When Mandy's back, she has two drinks in hand and Hamzah in tow. She hands you a cocktail and you graciously sip from your first alcoholic drink of the night.

"Where's Martin?" you ask.

"Bar!" she shouts over the music.

You shake your head. "Make up and make out already!"

She jabs your side and you giggle, swatting her hand away. Hamzah's doing something reminiscent of a frat flick, looking slightly out of it. You assume he's already done some shots and is way more intoxicated. So, being an empath, you finish your drink to get closer to his level. When you're done, you hand the empty cup to Mandy and wink at her. Your hand envelops Hamzah's and you pull him deeper in the crowd so you can dance together.

"I don't—I can't dance," he complains, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"C'mon, it's easy!"

You begin by swaying your hips, raising his hand in yours to guide him into a rhythm. He tries to follow along, shuffling around like a newborn deer. It's a funny sight, but you don't want him to stop if you tease him, so you bite back your amused smile. He slowly gets less self-conscious and continues on in his own way with the flow of the music, even twirling you around once or twice, laughing all the way as you narrowly avoid knocking into people. His eyes never leave you, like he's constantly thinking of his next move to impress you.

After letting him freestyle some more, you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He falters at the change in pace and his hands fall at your hips. Your hands rest at the nape of his neck and he shivers at the way your fingertips grace his skin. The rapid strobe lights nearly blind you, but you hold eye contact.

"Was that so bad?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"Yes," he says sarcastically. "I hate dancing."

"But I like your dancing."

You sway with him, careful not to step on his toes in your heels. Close up, you can nearly feel his breath on your face. You take a moment to admire his eyelashes and the way his eyes are slightly bloodshot, willing him to break the eye contact. He leans in closer.

"I like your dancing more."

You can't help but grin. His expression mimics yours.

"Yeah, well," you start, bringing your thumb up to trace the side of his jaw, "I like you."

He ducks down and captures your lips in a kiss. It takes you by surprise. You hadn't spoken a word about your kiss since last night, and you were beginning to think you made a mistake by acting on your impulses. Evidently, he doesn't seem to mind it as much as you'd worried.

The tip of his nose presses against your cheek as he shifts his head to deepen the kiss. Though the room is warm, this makes you hotter than any amount of dancing could've done. His palms squeeze your hips and your fingers rise to play with his curls. They're soft to the touch, just as you suspected. You tug lightly as the kiss gets more insatiable.

"Ouch," he mumbles against your lips, barely loud enough to hear. You snicker and tug it again, making him pull away. "I said ouch."

"I know," you laugh out. "Sorry."

"That funny?" he questions. You nod, grinning at his playful irritation. "See how you like it."

His hand trails up your back until his fingers are at your scalp and he gently pulls on your roots. Your head moves back with his action and your lips part, exhaling a shaky breath. His eyes widen. He does it again. You reach up to kiss him again.

It's hotter this time, in both senses of the word. Your skin goes alight with a blaze even the coldest shower couldn't reduce. You drape your wrists over his shoulders, your beaded bracelet pressing into him the same way his is imprinting into the sliver of bare skin below your top.

Realizing you’re standing in place in the midst of a lively dance floor, you break from the kiss and turn so your back is against his front. You pull his arms around your shoulders and sway, deliberately pressing yourself against him. You enjoy hearing the way his breath hitches next to your ear, always needing to find a new way to tease him. You know if you could have it your way without seeming too desperate too soon, you’d be doing more than just dancing.

“I like you, too,” he says, clutching you closer to him. “I forgot to say.”

You turn your head and nearly kiss his cheek because of how cute he is. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“And I really like your dancing.”

His suggestive words spur you into grinding on him more, anything to get a reaction out of him, and it works every time. The two of you keep going this way until your thighs are burning and you’re out of breath. If it weren’t for the visual reminder, you would’ve forgotten that you came here with other people.

A couple feet away, you spot two familiar heads weeding through the crowd and slowly drawing nearer. You step away from Hamzah, who looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Before you can explain yourself, you come face-to-face with Mandy. Martin stops a bit away.

“Can we leave?” she rushes out.

Her mascara is running and her nose is red. Martin looks disgruntled, his eyes never staying in one place as he scans through the crowd. You grab her hand and nod. The four of you spot the nearest exit and leave promptly.

“What happened?” you ask once you’re out in the open. “Are you okay?”

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” Her eyes stay on the ground.

Your heart drops. “Of course.”

The walk back to the hotel is uneasy and fast-paced. The boys walk behind the two of you and you can hear Martin’s one word answers to everything Hamzah says to him. Your heels click and clack, barely providing a distraction from the hundreds of questions swarming your mind.

~

a/n: ooo we’re getting angsty. im so sorry this took so long and if u feel that it wasn’t worth the wait, the truth is ive been so sick recently like never before in my life and i haven’t felt a lick of motivation to write. ive had to rewrite these chapters so many times that its actually affecting me mentally because i wanna make u guys happy while actually enjoying writing. i promise u won’t have to wait this long ever again, but doing this story is making me realize i prefer writing short form stuff way more than stories like this because it’s simply less stress and fits my writing style more. thanks again for all the support and kind words, u guys have really warmed my heart and i hope u know that even tho this is fanfiction and it may seem silly, it’s really a labor of love and im so grateful that u actually like what i put out there. im so so so touched and i rlly love u guys, even if i don’t know u. parasocial virtual hugs to u all xoxoxo tysm. <3

[rcmclachlan]

okay, so if you’re not writing the aquarium scene in the 118/217 scheming fix-it (god i love this) can you at least share what mishap and or shenanigan gets them banned from the aquarium?? (since you mentioned it in the tags i assume you picked one!)

The aquarium is Christopher's idea, because getting Buck and Tommy back together is the one thing he and Eddie can talk about without it devolving into shouting or week-long silences that make Eddie want to put his fist through his living room wall.

So if plotting to interfere in the open bear trap that is his idiot friends' breakup gets him an hour of uninterrupted screen time with Chris three times a week? He'll meddle in a way that would make even his abuela say, "cariño, that's a little much." He'll change his legal middle name to el metiche.

"Buck used to take me to see the otters when I was younger; they're his favorite. But the exhibit has been closed for a year because they've been redoing it," Chris says, then texts him a link to the aquarium website. "The big reopening is next week. If someone asked Buck to take Jee-Yun, he wouldn't be suspicious."

"Chris, you're a genius," Eddie says, a little awed. His entire body aches to reach through the laptop screen and across state lines to pull his kid into a hug, but all he can do is sit on his hands and hope his face shows all the love he feels.

A small, but genuine grin unfurls on Chris's face. "That's not news, dad."

Eddie decides to take the aquarium idea to what Chimney keeps calling the weekly 118-217 Shadow Summit to see if the rest of the group thinks it holds water—no pun intended—and is extremely offended when Dana gives him a slow blink and says, "That's actually not bad. Who came up with it?"

"Is it that hard to believe it was my idea?"

"Very."

Dana presses the rim of her wine glass to the sly, crimson curve of her mouth. With her victory rolls, winged eyeliner, and tattoos, she looks like the winner of a car show pinup contest. She also looks like an evil queen out of an old school Disney movie. At least five people in their general vicinity look like they'd thank her if she force-fed them a poisoned apple or turned into a giant dragon.

Eddie reaches into the bowl of popcorn by his elbow and throws a handful of it at her. She just takes a sip of her wine and serenely lets the kernels bounce off her.

"Knock it off before I put you both in a time out." Lucy drains the dregs of her beer and says to Chimney, "Having Buckley take your kid is the perfect excuse—she's, what, two? Three?"

"Five," Chim says with the heartache of a man whose baby is almost old enough to rent a car. "As long as we don't tell my wife that Jee's playing the part of the cutest MacGuffin ever in this little plot, we should be good. But how do we get Tommy there?"

"Short of planting a bomb in the penguin tank, I can't think of a reason Mr. Nature Boy himself would ever voluntarily go." Hen roots around in the popcorn bowl for the kernels with the most butter. "Actually, he might be thrilled if we did that. I don't think he likes birds very much."

Dana lifts a brow. "I smell a story."

"Does it smell like KFC?" Chim pops a pretzel in his mouth and chews loudly, grinning. "Once we've adjourned the cabal for the evening, remind me to tell you about Maurice."

Eddie doesn't know Nico very well—he can't get a read on the guy to save his life—but the smug smirk he's sporting looks entirely out of place. Nico takes the last mozzarella stick off the platter they'd ordered to share and puts it between his teeth like a cigar. He looks like the world's lamest oil baron.

Eddie looks at Dana in askance. Wordlessly, she plucks a piece of popcorn out of her hair and throws it at him. It nails him right between the eyes.

"Let me handle Kinard," Nico says. "I'll get him there, no problem."

To his credit, Nico does get Tommy to the aquarium the day of the sea otter exhibit grand reopening. And thanks to Chimney planting Chris's idea in Buck's head at the start of their next shift, Buck does take Jee-Yun.

Unfortunately, their paths never cross, because while the penguin habitat doesn't explode, the sea jelly gallery does, completely flooding the first floor. When the aquarium is forced to evacuate everyone, Buck and Jee-Yun end up at the Chili's down the street, while Tommy ends up riding in an ambulance with an old woman who gets stung by a box jellyfish.

"I don't understand how this happened!" Lucy shouts, keeping her fingers on the ankle pulse of a man in the middle of an allergic reaction to a lilliputian jelly sting as Hen and Chim pump him full of epinephrine and then start administering compressions.

Eddie would help, but he's carrying three kids—two in his arms, one on his back—through shin-deep water to safety while attempting to dodge all the bluebottles floating on the surface. Dana glides past him to get the next group of kids waiting to be rescued, not a hair out of place. She looks like a fucking mermaid. He's gonna trip her the next time they pass each other.

Annoyed, Lucy casts around and then asks, "Has anyone seen Nico?"

Just in time for the man himself to sedately walk through the pandemonium, two bewildered penguins tucked under his arms like purses. He smiles brightly. "Hey, did Kinard pass through here, by any chance? Phase two of my plan is ready to go."

Eddie stares at him. "What was phase one?"

He never does find out what exactly phase one entailed, but it's enough to get them permanently banned from the aquarium for life.

"If you ask me, the punishment so does not fit the crime," Nico says, digging an elbow into Eddie's side as he jostles for room in the back of Athena's squad car.

Eddie says nothing. He's too busy mentally composing the short-answer portion of his application for the El Paso Fire Department, although, in the end, it doesn't matter. He completely forgets everything he plans on writing when Athena slides in, glances in the rearview mirror, and shouts, "Those better not be penguins in my back seat, Edmundo Diaz!"

He and Chris spend two hours talking about it during their next call, so Eddie calls it a win.

[himbodruid]

Happy New Year! 🥳🥳🥳

Sylus x Reader

-:- kinda mirror sex -:- bent over -:- minor praise kink? -:- you’re wearing his shirt -:- he loses his mind -:- dom Sylus -:-

🔞 INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI 🔞

Mirror, Mirror

You were not entirely sure what led to this situation, bent over the bathroom counter with Sylus at your back.

You had arrived at the base, soaked thoroughly from the torrential downpour that decided to suddenly strike while you’d walked to Sylus’s home. He’d answered the door and immediately stripped his sweatshirt and covered your shivering body in its warmth while ushering you inside.

After boiling yourself in a shower on the hottest setting you could endure, you stood at the vanity in just an oversized shirt that Sylus lent you while your own clothes dried. What was meant to be a nice dinner instead turned into this, drying your hair with a towel that smelled like him, wearing his clothes that barely came down to your thighs. He had given a pair of sweatpants, but even cinched as far as they could go, they still threatened to fall to the floor when you took a step. So you opted to go without.

Sylus knocked on the door, and you beckoned him into the bathroom without thought. You swore you could see his eyes dilate as he took in your undressed state. His expression grew hungry as his crimson gaze swept over you from head to toe. When he caught you doing the same to him, his eyes darkened with desire.

With a growl he crowded you into the counter, kissing your neck from behind. You watched him through the mirror, making eye contact with him while his lips coasted over your skin. His arms wrapped around your waist, preventing any possible escape from him. Not that you wanted to escape him. Your heart thundered in your chest as his hand traveled up your thigh, making its way under the hem of the shirt and-

His groan met your gasp as his elegant fingers found their way to the apex of your thighs. You could feel him growing hard against your back while he slicked his fingers through your folds. He growled in approval when he found you wet and wanting. He continued touching you, circling on that sensitive bud until you trembled in his arms with short gasps.

With a cheshire cat grin, he bent you forward until you were propped on the counter on your forearms. You stared at the reflection, blush deepening at the lewd sight of you bent before him. Fuck, but what a sight it was. He stood tall behind you, his hands roaming your body freely while he watched your expressions with rapt interest. He rocked his hips into you, still imprisoned by denim while you yourself lay exposed to him. Not a single care for the way your arousal smeared across the front of his black jeans. It just seemed to goad him on all the more.

You watched him as he lazily unbuckled his belt, as he unbuttoned his jeans and just oh so seductively exposed himself. The hard length of him was freed and resting heavy against your ass while he gave you that half-smirk you often dreamed about. Since that dream you had about taming him like a wild horse, you longed to see that expression on him in the waking world.

“What a beautiful sight, Kitten,” he said. His voice was husky, rasped by desire that was so plainly written on his face.

And then he leaned over you, scooping you into his arms and lifting you by the hips. You could no longer touch the ground when he impaled you, instead you were completely at his mercy.

He kept an arm wrapped around your pelvis, keeping you elevated as he began rocking you into him. The press of his cock inside you made your breaths come in short bursts. Slow, so slow he thrust in and out of you. All the while watching you watching him. The mirror fogged at the corners with your growing heat.

He bent to move your hair to the side, to kiss the back of your neck, to bite and nip at the slope of your shoulder while he took you. But his eyes never left your face. Never roamed from your eyes. All you could do was voice your pleasure, moans bouncing off the tile to echo around you. The pleasure was reaching a crescendo and you could barely keep your eyes open, threatening to roll back in your skull.

But when you tried to close your eyes, his free arm snaked up through the shirt, between your breasts, to grasp at your chin. Forcing you to watch him plunder you.

“Look at me when you cum,” he commanded softly, his voice right in your ear. You obeyed, eyes locked onto his as each thrust brought you closer, closer, closer until you suddenly fell over the edge. Your body jerked and trembled while he continued working at your cunt, throwing you into another orgasm before the first could even fully end.

“Good girl,” he praised with a kiss against your temple. “Eyes on me.”

And then his hips jerked forward more aggressively. He was slamming into you now and there was no purchase on the counter to steady yourself- just his arms wrapped around you while he pinned you in place.

The sound of skin striking skin joined the cacophony of moans that harmonized between the two of you. His hand remained firmly on your jaw and all you could do was dig your fingers into his arm. Your legs wrapped around him as best as they could from the position you were in. It was all you could do to cling to him while he ravaged you.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so good,” he groaned as his pace increased. His grunts and moans became more insistent as he chased pleasure with you.

“S-Sy,” you breathed. Words failed you as your mind and body became numb to ecstasy.

“Eyes on me,” he moaned, each word marked by the collision of his hips into you.

You locked your eyes to his, watching the pleasure dancing across his face with your own sense of satisfaction. The rhythm of him was steady, building you back up to the brink with every thrust of his cock into you. He smirked at your own expressions, though it was short-lived when he slammed into you with a grunt.

But then something shifted. With eyes locked on each other, you saw his right eye begin to glow. It took a second to register what you were seeing, but when you realized a bolt of panic shot through you. Sylus’s gaze flickered to his own when he felt you tense ever so slightly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he growled even as he clenched his own eyes closed. You watched him fuck you so thoroughly that you didn’t know how you were ever going to get the image out of your head. The sounds he made would forever be ingrained into your memory. And fuck the feel of his cock inside you, filling you in a way you were certain no other could.

His hips roughly slammed into you, his climax imminent. You clenched your walls around him, increasing the drag of his cock inside you and you cried out as another orgasm rocked through you.

“Come with me, Sylus,” you begged with a breathy whine. “S-Sylus, fuck.”

And then he slammed forward one final time, spilling into you so explosively that he nearly collapsed atop you. His grunts, moans, whimpers, and whines rose to join yours as his body shuddered and jerked.

He held you to him, locked so deep inside you, until the tremors in his body subsided, until his shuddering gasping breaths evened out. When your feet finally touched the ground, your knees buckled. But he held fast to you, making sure you didn’t fall until your legs stabilized. His flushed face was buried in the back of your neck, every now and then laying soft kisses there. He moaned as his cock slipped from you and his fingers dug almost painfully into your hip. You could feel his cum escape you and begin trailing down your leg, and the sensation elicited a shiver.

He was kissing your neck again before nuzzling into you. “I don’t know if I can be sorry for that. The sight of you in only my shirt…all control I tried to maintain escaped me.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to lasso in your own senses to form a response. His eyes found yours in the mirror, where you smiled sweetly, almost dreamily, at him. Whatever worry bracketed his eyes fell away and his gaze softened.

“Hmmh,” you said, voice still husky. “I’m gonna need another shower, now that a certain someone’s gone and made a mess of me. I wonder if he’ll take responsibility and clean up after himself.”

You could feel his cock twitch to life against your thigh at your words, and you leaned back into him. He gave a chuckle before spinning you to kiss you fully.

“I think that can be arranged,” he said against your mouth when he finally let you come up for air.

The pair of you eventually made it to dinner, where you proceeded to trade lascivious looks and teased each other relentlessly. The night ended (or began) with you in his bed, where neither of you slept until the early hours of the morning.

[lewmagoo]

i love that man like nobody can | rhett abbott

part of the million dollar man universe. i strongly encourage you to read the two previous parts before reading this one

description: in which a silver haired cowboy is forced to face ghosts from his past, but learns he doesn’t have to face them alone

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

w/c: 17,242

warnings: 18+ only, set during christmastime but not really holiday centric, age gap (reader 20s, rhett 40s), mentions of cheating and toxic past relationships, encounters with a certain ex-wife, smut, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, dom/sub themes, daddy kink, overstimulation, subspace, creampie

notes: i meant to have this up before christmas, but life got in the way. i'm very proud of how this turned out, though! don't be thrown off by the description. this fic has some drama but its main focus is the first time darlin' calls rhett daddy

It was finally December, and winter had officially wrapped Wyoming’s sprawling plains in its frosty embrace. 

The sky was clear for the first time since the significant snowfall that had taken place earlier that week. The moon and stars twinkled against a backdrop of black velvet up above, casting their light upon the blanket of white that covered the earth. 

It looked like diamonds.

Surrounded by the sparkling earth was a spacious, yet cozy, cabin, set upon a sprawling plot of land. And inside that cabin, one silver haired cowboy stood by the window, admiring the picturesque landscape that encompassed his home.

He couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face. In just three short years, his life had changed so much. Now, here he was, engulfed in the warmth of his home, admiring the Currier and Ives-esque view from his window, his heart filled with joy. 

That joy had been brought into his life in the form of one very special person. The one he lovingly referred to as his little darlin’. 

“I’m ready!”

Speak of the angel. 

Rhett turned from the bedroom window, hand idly fiddling with the small steer skull cuff links on his black dress shirt. When he saw you, his eyes seemed to sparkle like the snow he’d just been admiring. 

He could hardly find the breath to speak. “Oh, darlin’. You look incredible.” He was surprised he was able to get the words out. 

Shyly, you ducked your head. “Thank you.” 

He crossed the room, reaching you in two long strides. “I mean it.” Then he reached for your hand and lifted it above your head. “C’mon, twirl for me. Wan’ see everythin’.”

Giggling softly, you allowed him to spin you, and he let out a hum of delight. “Just look atcha. How’d I get so lucky?”

As he slowed you to a stop, you brought your hands up to rest upon his chest. Solid, rising and falling beneath your touch. His heart was beating fast, thrumming against his rib cage. Though his expression bore no sign of it, you knew how nervous he was for tonight. 

A night in which he would receive a very special honor. But Rhett loathed being the center of attention, and he felt undeserving of this honor. He’d much rather enjoy a quiet night in with you than go to an event, and certainly not one that put all eyes on him. 

“Hey,” you spoke, tone gentle. “Don’t get into your head about it. You deserve this award.” 

He sighed softly, lashes fluttering. “I dunno know about that.” 

“You do.” Your hands cupped his freshly shaven cheeks. “It’s a testament to all the hard work you’ve put in.” 

He leaned in, nuzzling his nose against yours. “At least I’ll have you there with me. Makes me feel a little better knowin’ I ain’t alone.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He pulled you back in, initiating another kiss, this one deeper. You found yourself melting into him, warm and safe and secure. He was your safe haven. He made all the noise in your head go quiet. 

Mouth against yours, he spoke, “I love you, darlin’.” Breathless. Chest heaving slightly. 

“I love you more.”

He leaned back slightly, bottom lip caught between his teeth,. His gaze flickered behind you momentarily before he slowly turned you, so that you were facing the full length mirror on the wall. 

“Look at m’beautiful, smart gal. Always know just what to say to make me feel better.” His face bore a look of glowing adoration. 

You could melt at his feet just from that look alone. “I mean every word. You’re a good man, Rhett Abbott.”

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, but I ain’t a good man.” Voice low. Rumbly. One large hand came to rest upon your clavicle, warm against your skin. 

How quickly things could change at the flip of a coin. His hand dropped lower, resting upon your chest, while his other arm snaked around your waist. He ran his nose along the side of your neck, breathing you in, and you shuddered. 

“Hope y’know the only thing gettin’ me through this night is knowin’ I get to take you home with me afterward and do whatever I want to ya.”

That made your knees go weak. 

He kissed the juncture where your neck met your shoulder, and then turned your chin so he could kiss your mouth. Just from that alone, you were dizzy. What an effect he had on you. 

“W-we should go,” you breathed, though you made no move to slip out of his embrace.

“Uh-huh.” His kisses trailed lower, down past your jaw and once again to your neck. He breathed you in, your scent intoxicating to him. God, if he could skip this event and take you to bed, he would. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as goosebumps prickled along your skin. “Rhett.”

“I know.” He turned you in his arms, hooking his fingers beneath your chin and tilting your head up so he could kiss once more, deeply, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. Unable to resist, you parted your mouth and let him in, tasting mint on his tongue. 

Finally, he pulled away, pupils blown, breath rushed. “Now we can go.”

Dizzy, you watched him cross the room to grab his best hat off of one of the pegs on the closet door. As he placed the hat on his head, his look was complete. Black dress shirt, black trousers, black cowboy boots, the ones he only wore for special occasions. 

His tie was black too, but had understated gold embroidery along the edges. Complete with a tailored black suit jacket, he looked like a million dollar man. And he was all yours. 

He was wildly uncomfortable in his stiff, fancy outfit. Dressing up was his least favorite thing. He would much rather wear a pair of Wranglers and a button down flannel. However, he had to admit, your reaction to him all dressed up did make the discomfort worth it. 

“Look so handsome,” you gushed. “Now let’s get outta here before we end up being late.” Before I drop to my knees right here and suck your dick.

Together, you made your way out of the bedroom and down the hallway, with Rhett announcing he was going to go out and start the truck so it could warm up. He wouldn’t let you sit on a freezing leather seat if he could help it. Your comfort was always his priority, and that was something you loved so much about him. He took such good care of you in ways big and small. 

“Make sure y’ bundle up, windchill’s in the single digits,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled his own coat on.

“Yes, sir,” you replied.

He glanced at you as he stepped toward the door, brow raised. “Good girl.”

Oh.

Then he was stepping out of the house, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, head spinning slightly. You’d been with him for three years, married for one of those, and he still had that effect on you.

God, how were you going to survive tonight, watching him walk around dressed like that, the most important man at the event?

Rhett had been presented the honor of receiving Rancher of the Year by the Wyoming Stock Growers Association. He would be presented with a plaque and a gift from the association, and his name would be displayed in the great hall in the Cheyenne Chamber of Commerce. 

You couldn’t be more proud of him. He had been through so much, and had worked so hard. This ranch had been built from the ground up by his own hands, and his blood and sweat was imbrued into its soil.

When you met him, he was already successful and well-established. But there had once been a time when he had nothing, and found himself at rock bottom. His marriage had fallen apart, his wife had betrayed him in the most heinous of ways, and he was on a destructive path that would lead to his own demise if he didn’t pick himself up off the pavement soon enough.

Over a period of several months, he had been careless, throwing himself into bull riding, and because he was so distracted, he had suffered a plethora of injuries. It almost seemed as if he had a death with. But after one too many blows to the head, dislocated shoulders, and broken ribs, it was either walk away from bull riding, or end up getting himself killed.

So he made the decision to lay his riding career to rest, and instead, turned to working with his hands, the one thing he felt that he was truly good at. He worked on a few local ranches, putting in the hours, stowing away as much money as he could. 

After a while, he was able to purchase the land you both lived on now. He started from scratch, and it took him quite a few years to get established. It wasn’t without its fair share of trials and frustrations, but Rhett appreciated the distraction, because if he wasn’t working, there was nothing to take his mind off the fact that he was well and truly alone. 

He tried so hard not to let it bother him. But he was deeply wounded from what he had been through, and although time soothed the ache, he was still filled with a sense of longing. He wanted to share his life with someone. This big, beautiful cabin felt so empty without someone to share it with.

After success came to him, he became one of the most well known ranchers in the state. It was certainly an adjustment after he had grown up on a ranch that his family barely scraped by on, but the financial security was a welcome change.

During this time, he considered putting himself out there and trying to find a romantic partner. There were plenty of women (and men) who were interested in him. He could take his pick of anyone he wanted, but after going on only a few dates, he realized that most of them were more interested in his money rather than him.

So he stopped looking. And the older he got, the more he grew convinced that he would never find anyone to spend the rest of his life with. And then he met you.

He had been enamored from the moment he walked into the diner you were working at. Something about you made his chest ache. Especially when he saw the way you were treated by your boss, and the patrons that came to the diner.

He was simply passing through your town. He had no intention of staying more than a few hours. Yet after he met you, he found himself unable to shake you from his mind. You were so beautiful. Not just your physicality, but your entire demeanor. 

After spending that night talking to you, he couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing you again. So he got a motel room in the area, and proceeded to come into your diner for the next few nights. He saw how poorly you were treated by your boss and the other patrons. 

And as he got to know you over the next few days, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was meant to take you away from all of it. It was the most spontaneous decision he’d ever made, and perhaps it was slightly foolish to invite a woman he’d only just met to come live with him.

But he couldn’t live with himself knowing he could have done something, and didn’t. So he offered to give you a better life. To whisk you away from all the pain and mistreatment, . And to his surprise, you agreed.

He had no idea that you would soon become the love of his life. The missing piece to his puzzle. The best thing that had ever happened to him. 

Rhett changed your life. He treated you with kindness and understanding, provided anything and everything you could ever need, and made you feel safe. For the first time in your life, it seemed, your body was no longer in a constant state of fight or flight. You could finally rest.

Now, three years later, you were his wife, and you had never been more at peace. 

You were overjoyed that you could be part of Rhett’s life. He felt the same about you. Gone was the feeling of all consuming loneliness, replaced with a feeling of warmth and security. He had a purpose, and that purpose was you. After all the hardship he had endured, he welcomed this more relaxed time of his life. For his suffering, he had been rewarded with a tender hearted soul who loved him deeply. He wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

Now here you both were, all dressed up and ready for a night that was all about Rhett and his accomplishments. 

“Y’ready, darlin’?” His voice drew you out of the reverie you hadn’t realized you’d slipped into. Thankfully you’d had the sense to shove your feet into your snow boots and tug your coat on while you were reminiscing. 

“Yep!” You held your dress shoes in one hand, intending to change into them once you got to your destination. You weren’t about to trudge through ice and snow in your nicest shoes. 

“C’mere.” Rhett stopped you as you came to the door. He reached out, taking the time to button your coat for you. It brought a smile to your face, and warmth to your heart. 

Then he leaned in to kiss your nose. “There, that’s better.” He guided you out onto the porch, and closed the door behind you both. He’d already put ice melt down so the front steps and the walkway weren’t slippery, but just in case, he led you to the truck anyway, prepared to catch you if you slipped on a patch of ice he might’ve missed. 

Once you were safely seated in the warm cab, he came around to his side and climbed into the seat, letting out a sharp breath as he shivered. “It’s s’damn cold. My old, achin’ bones ain’t made for this weather.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re so ancient,” you teased, settling back once you had your seatbelt fastened.

“Baby, I’m pushin’ fifty. I damn near feel ancient,” came his grumble as he threw the gear into drive and began the trek down the long driveway.

“You don’t look a day over forty-eight.” His actual age.

“Ha-ha.” An exaggerated fake laugh, but you could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he truly was amused.

You leaned across the console to kiss his cheek, and he smiled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh. 

As comfortable silence settled between you both, you took it upon yourself to turn the radio on, fiddling with the dial until it landed on a holiday music station.

Christmas was only a few short weeks away, and you were in a very festive spirit. It was your second Christmas as a married couple, and you were so eager to spend the holiday with him, and continue the traditions you had started the year before. 

You had restored Rhett’s love for the holiday season. What used to be a difficult time for him had turned into something magical, all because of you. 

His favorite thing was cozying up by the fire with you after a long day, with the Christmas tree lights twinkling in the background. It was heaven on earth. 

And now you were singing along softly to carols on the radio, and he couldn’t help but smile, reaching over to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. You brought so much wonder to his life. 

Although he was anxious about receiving the award that night, he also felt a sense of calmness, brought in by your presence. You were always his saving grace. 

And as he embarked on the hour-long drive into Cheyenne, you traded easy conversation, taking the time to get his mind off his nerves for a little while. 

But all too soon, he was pulling into the parking lot of the Cheyenne Chamber of Commerce, and his heart quickened a little in his chest, muscles tensing. 

Why was he so damn nervous? It wasn’t that big of a deal. All he had to do was go up and accept the award, and say a few words of thanks. He’d done many more stressful things than that in his lifetime. 

“Hey.” Your voice drew him from his imminent spiral. He turned his head to look at you, and you offered a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine. I love you.” You kissed him sweetly. 

“Luh you too,” he hummed against your mouth. Then he killed the engine and moved to climb out of the truck. 

Breath puffing in clouds around his head, he quickly rounded the front of the vehicle and came to your door, which he opened and reached his hand out to guide you down to the parking lot. 

Hands intertwined, you walked toward the building, shoes crunching on stray pieces of melting salt. Even through your coat, the frigid wind managed to bite at you, sending shivers down your spine and pushing you to snuggle into Rhett’s side. 

He held you close until you got to the doors, which he stopped to open for you. You rushed inside, quick to wipe your boots on the entryway mat before you glanced around for a place to hang your coat. 

To your left was a small coat hallway, where you shrugged out of your outer layers and placed your boots neatly beneath the rack, stepping into your nicer shoes. 

When you turned back toward Rhett, he reached out, fingers wiggling, silently asking for physical contact. You slipped your hand into his palm, and he managed to give you a smile before you both walked out into the main lobby area. 

The place was decorated quite elegantly for christmas, with a large christmas tree in the middle of the room, and lighted garland framing all the windows. Soft music played over the speakers; classical versions of well-known Christmas carols. 

A good amount of people had already arrived. Other members of the Stockmen’s Association. Presidents, vice presidents, and representatives alike.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” A voice called out, and you both turned to see Leo Riesen, vice president of the Amelia county branch, approaching. He smiled widely and shook hands with Rhett, nodding his head toward you in greeting. 

“Hey there, Leo. Merry Christmas,” Rhett answered.

“How you feelin’ about the award?” The man asked, mirth lighting up his sharp green eyes.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I feel undeservin’ of it.”

Leo simply shook his head, scoffing good-naturedly. “Oh, quit bein’ humble. You of all people deserve it! Ain’t that right, Mrs. Abbott?” He turned to you, and you nodded without hesitation. 

“Oh yes! I might be a little biased, but if anyone deserves it, it’s him!” Came your eager reply as you reached over to squeeze Rhett’s bicep lovingly. 

“See?” Leo swiveled toward your husband again, flashing another thousand watt smile. “Your wife knows what she’s talkin’ about.”

And thus began a night of socializing. Rhett was not a fan of small talk, or social situations in general. He felt very out of his element, especially with so much attention focused on him. But you being by his side made it more bearable. 

Although he wasn’t the most comfortable in this environment, you certainly couldn’t tell. He was practically glowing, it seemed. Smile bright, eyes glimmering. He was approached by so many people, mostly members of the Stockmen’s Association, and he handled himself with grace and humility, though his cheeks were slightly pink from all the attention. 

You marveled even at yourself, because you remembered when you’d first begun attending events with Rhett. Your relationship was still so new, and you were not yet confident in who you were. 

You had faced scrutiny from some of the other ranchers’ wives. Luke Tillerson’s wife in particular has singled you out and claimed that you were merely a phase for Rhett. A way to soothe his loneliness. She insisted he was only interested in you because you were young, and he would soon grow tired of you. 

Back then, you had been so hurt by her words. You hadn’t possessed the guts to stand up to her and defend yourself and the man you loved. 

You’d come so far since then. Now, you were secure in yourself, and in your relationship with Rhett. After all, you were the one who made him believe in love again, after fifteen years of thinking he’d never experience it. 

You had the confidence to stand up for yourself, and for him, if need be. 

But you had no idea that you would, in fact, need to do so that night. 

Unsuspecting, you made the rounds, staying close to Rhett’s side, and putting your two cents into each conversation when necessary. Little by little, the room began to fill with guests. Other members of the association and their spouses, friends of Rhett, but most importantly, his mother.

When he saw her, his face lit up. “Hey, Momma. You made it!”

“Well of course I made it! Wouldn’t miss seein’ my boy get his award!” She exclaimed as she lovingly squeezed his hand. Cecilia was well into her seventies, but still just as spry (and stubborn) as ever. Rhett had purposely told her not to make the trip if she felt that the weather was too cold for her to go out in, but she had insisted she would be in attendance, weather be damned.

“Hi there, honey,” she turned to you, her smile wide, as she reached out to pull you in for a hug. “It’s good to see ya.”

“You too,” came your reply, returning her embrace. You were grateful to have a mother-in-law like her. Over the time you’d known her, you’d grown quite fond of her. She had told you many times that she was so glad that her Rhett had found love again. It meant so much to her that you made him so happy.

“Well, I s’pose I’ll take my seat. Talk to you both afterward,” Cecilia continued, excusing herself to the seating area, lined neatly with folding chairs.

“I’m so glad your mom could make it,” you told Rhett, smile playing at your lips. “She’s so proud of you.”

You were met with silence when he didn’t reply, and you turned, speaking his name. However, you noticed that he’d gone tense beside you, shoulders drawn toward his ears. 

His gaze was fixed on something, or someone, across the room.

It was the shock of long, dark hair that caught his attention. From where she stood, her back turned, he couldn’t see her face, but even so, he knew who it was.

After all these years.

Your voice drew him back to himself. “Rhett, honey, what’s the matter?” Gentle hand on his back. Grounding him. 

He took a breath, eyes still focused across the room. “I…” Before he could even offer an explanation, she turned, confirming what he already knew. 

The woman who’d betrayed him so long ago, forsaking the marriage vows she had made to him. Maria. 

She hadn’t seen him yet, it appeared, as she was still in the middle of the conversation. But surely, she knew he’d be here. What was she doing here at all? He had been to many events for the Association, and had never seen her at any of them. 

Beside Rhett, you followed his gaze, which landed upon a woman. Pretty, with dark hair cascading down her back. She appeared to be close to Rhett’s age. When you looked back at him, his face was stricken, as if he’d seen a ghost.

You’d never seen a picture of Maria. But judging by your husband’s reaction, you knew that this had to be her. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that’s her, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Rhett managed, mouth dry. 

Beside her stood Jackson Riggs, first vice president of the Stockmen’s Association. He looked up, and saw Rhett. A smile crossed Jackson’s face as he pointed to Rhett, and Maria’s attention shifted to him. She had an excellent poker face, but for a split second the discomfort in her eyes was clear.

Rhett had gone rigid as a board, watching as the pair approached. His chest was tight, and an uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He hadn’t spoken to her since their divorce had been finalized. That was sixteen years ago. He should have been over it by now. Seeing her again should not have this much of an effect on him.

Yet as she approached, his heart rate quickened. Unsure of what to do, you reached for Rhett’s arm, placing your hand against his bicep. A silent show of support. You were going to follow his lead, because you didn’t trust yourself not to go off on this woman.

It was jarring to see her for the first time. After all Rhett had told you about her, you had developed a deep disdain for the woman. You didn’t like to use the word hate, but that was exactly how you felt about her. 

He had given you the full story. Laid it out one night, early on in your relationship, as he sat on the living room floor with you. Told you how he’d come home after an out-of-town rodeo to find his wife in his bed with another man. And not just any man, but his own brother.

It had utterly destroyed him. Not only had that moment marked the end of his marriage, but it had irreparably damaged his relationship with his brother. You had seen the pain in his eyes when he recalled that incident. Even so many years later, it was still raw and real. 

Hearing that story had filled you with an all-encompassing anger. You didn’t understand how someone could be so cruel as to go behind the back of the person they loved. And with their sibling, no less. 

Seeing the cause of your husband’s pain sent pinpricks of rage through you. But you remained poised at his side, waiting to see how he’d react, and how the conversation would go. 

“Rhett Abbott!” Jackson spoke out, voice carrying. “Good to see you!”

Rhett cleared his throat, trying not to appear shaken. His lashes fluttered, and he cleared his throat, trying not to stare at Maria. “J-Jack. Uh, good t’see you too,” he managed to answer. Your grip on his bicep tightened slightly, letting him know you had him.

“Mrs. Abbott,” Jackson greeted, nodding toward you. Beside him, Maria’s eyes widened, but she quickly hid her surprise. Jackson stepped back slightly, motioning to the woman. “This here’s my wife, Maria.”

It took everything in you not to react.

Rhett tried to appear calm and collected, though he tugged slightly at his collar, as if to loosen it. How the hell was he supposed to react to the information he’d just been told? 

“Nice to meet you, Rhett,” Maria interjected, but the tightness in her smile showed no friendliness. 

You could no longer force your own smile. In fact, you were certain you were staring daggers at the woman now. Who did she think she was, acting as if she didn’t know Rhett? It was clear her husband had no idea about her connection to him. She hadn’t told him the truth.

A bitter taste filled your mouth. You realized you were biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.

“You…you as well,” you heard Rhett say, but his voice echoed through your head, as if he was far away.

If Jackson noticed anything amiss, he didn’t acknowledge it. He simply continued talking, congratulating Rhett on his award. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring at Maria. You could not believe her audacity. 

She seemed nervous under your intense gaze. As if she was afraid you’d say something. You wanted to so badly. But you also didn’t want to make a scene and add to Rhett’s stress, merely five minutes before he had to stand in front of everyone. 

So you held your tongue and made nice, for his sake. 

“Well, guess we’d better get to our seats. Nice seein’ ya,” Jackson finally said, ending the very brief conversation. He’d been droning on about something that you had not listened to a single word of. 

Maria seemed relieved to get out of the situation. 

At your side, Rhett let out an unsteady breath. For a moment, he was transported back to that night, when it all fell apart. How was it possible that it felt like it had happened only yesterday, but also like one hundred lifetimes had passed since then?

“Are you okay?” Your voice brought him from the precipice of a spiral. 

“I…I’m fine,” he answered. 

The ceremony was about to start. You could not discuss the situation the way you wanted to. That would come later. Instead, you reached up and gently turned his face toward you. “Hey.”

His eyes met yours, and he let out a soft breath. “I’m alright, darlin’. Promise. Just didn’t expect to see her here. I didn’t even know she was married to Riggs. I mean, what are the fuckin’ odds?” He was in disbelief, and he felt so out of sorts. Entirely unprepared to stand before everyone. At the same time, he hated that this had thrown him off so badly. He should have been able to shake it off. But he couldn’t.

There was so much more you wanted to say. But everyone was making their way to their seats, and the room was beginning to quiet down. Whatever you said would be heard, and once again, you didn’t want to cause a scene.

So, instead, you ducked forward to kiss him softly, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “She doesn’t get to ruin your night. You’ve worked too damn hard to let that happen. Go up and accept that award and show her that what she did to you didn’t stop you from becoming one of the most successful men in this state.”

He managed a grateful smile, nuzzling his nose against yours. There was no time to say anything else, as it was time to move to your seats. You intertwined your fingers with Rhett’s and the two of you made your way to the front row of chairs. Coincidentally, that placed him directly next to Maria, who was seated beside her husband.

How you were going to remain composed this entire time, you weren’t sure. You forced yourself to keep your gaze fixed forward and focused on what was happening on the small stage in front of you.

The night began with Winston Haynes, the president of the Stockmen’s Association, stepping up to the podium. He went through the preliminary introductions and recapped how the year had gone for the association. 

Your interest was piqued only when he spoke your husband’s name. “As you all know, every year, we honor a local rancher who is part of the association. This rancher is someone who shows great respect to the land. Someone who has an admirable work ethic, and loves his community.”

He paused, glancing out at the modest crowd, before continuing, reading off of his prepared notes. “Rhett Abbott was born and raised in Wabang, Wyoming. He grew up as a ranch kid, but didn’t establish his own ranch until a little later in life. Since then, he has built a very lucrative business, known as Abbott Ranch. Not only is he an excellent cattleman, but he’s also very involved in giving back to the community.”

Listening to him list Rhett’s achievements helped take your mind off of the woman currently sitting in your row. Instead, you found yourself welling with pride, and you gripped his hand again, allowing yourself to revel in the joy you felt for him.

“Tonight, we want to honor Rhett with the title of Rancher of the Year.”

Applause erupted across the room, with you clapping the loudest, beaming from ear to ear. Rhett ducked his head, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention, but he stood anyway, reaching the podium in a few easy strides.

Winston turned to him, wide smile on his face. In his hands was a plaque, etched with Rhett’s name. “Congratulations, Rhett. You, of all people, most definitely deserve this award.”

Rhett graciously accepted the plaque, shaking Winston’s hand. A photographer for the local newspaper instructed them to pose, just before Rhett stepped forward to speak into the microphone. 

“I can’t begin to say what an honor this is. Thank you for choosin’ me, I don’t feel worthy of it, but I’m thankful. Thanks to everyone who’s been in my corner since day one. Don’t think I would’ve started this ranchin’ business if it weren’t for everyone who came alongside me and helped make it happen.” Then his gaze shifted to you, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Most importantly, thank you to my wife, for believin’ in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

You pressed your hand to your heart, nodding at him, tears welling in your own eyes. “I love you,” you mouthed.

Once again, the room erupted into applause, and a moment later, Rhett stepped off the stage and made his way back to you. His shoulders fell slightly as he sat down, relieved that moment was finally done. But the stress was far from over, as you would soon find out.

Winston continued on his spiel, and then Jackson, the vice president, walked up to say a few words. Following him, a few other members of the association spoke, launching into agriculture jargon that you didn’t necessarily find interesting.

The program was actually quite brief, and it wasn’t long at all before it was time to move on to the second half of the night, which was a time of socializing, along with hors d’oeuvres and various assortments of Christmas desserts. 

As everyone stood from their seats, the room filled with the low murmur of voices. Snippets of conversations carried across the room as people made small talk. 

You found yourself tucked against Rhett’s side, ignoring the fact that Maria was still nearby, hoping that Jackson wouldn’t try to start another conversation with Rhett and involve his wife again. If you had to watch her continue to pretend she didn’t even know Rhett, you were certain you would go off on her.

Rhett’s mother came to bid him goodbye and express how proud she was of him. Several others who were members of the association stopped to congratulate him. And for a little while, it seemed that perhaps there would not be another encounter with Maria. You would be perfectly content if you didn’t have to put on a front and pretend to be nice to her for the rest of the night.

The anger you felt was an odd sort of feeling. You were not one for overt, public displays of emotion like that. But you had come a long way from the timid girl you used to be. In the beginning, Rhett had gone to bat for you. He’d defended you when you were mistreated in your workplace, after only knowing you for a few days. He came to your aid when Luke Tillerson’s wife had upset you. He’d stood up for you through it all. 

But now, you had come into your own. And while you still had a long way to go, you were nowhere near as insecure and frightened as you once had been. Rhett had built you up and helped you learn how to be sure of yourself. 

It was a wonder what being in a healthy, loving relationship could do for one’s self-esteem.

Your love for him ran deep. You were so grateful for all he’d done, and how he’d changed your life. In some ways it translated into this protectiveness toward him. After learning of all the pain he had endured, you would do everything in your power to ensure he did not suffer through it again. 

So when Jackson Riggs and his wife Maria approached Rhett once again that night, you raised your hackles. 

“Congratulations on the award,” Jackson praised your husband. “You’ve done a lot for the community. Y’should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Rhett answered. He was less jarred than he’d been when he first saw Maria, but it was still surreal. 

You remained at his side, eyeing the woman, and you noticed something. She wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes kept flickering this way and that, focusing on everything else but Rhett. 

Something about that sent fire through you. And it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Why won’t you look at him?” 

An unfamiliar boldness washed over you. The edge to your tone surprised even yourself. 

Maria startled slightly, dark eyes widening. “E-excuse me?”

“Rhett. Why won’t you look at Rhett?”

She offered a nervous smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Darlin’, it’s okay,” Rhett eased. 

“No. It’s not okay.” You felt compelled to say your piece. “Look at him, Maria. Stop acting like you’ve never met him before.”

Beside her, Jackson looked confused as could be. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at here, Mrs. Abbott. My wife’s never met your husband before.” 

“With all due respect, she has.”

Maria blanched. “No, I-”

“Don’t. You don’t get to do that, not after what you did.”

Rhett made no move to stop you. In fact, he was very interested in what you had to say. 

“Please, let’s not do this here,” she tried to reason. She looked wildly uncomfortable. It only served to piss you off more. 

“You should have thought of that before you walked in here and acted like you’ve never met this man. You have a lot of nerve, you know that? Coming here tonight, knowing he was getting this award.”

“I didn’t know,” she defended. “Really, I didn’t. Not until a few days ago. Jack and I just got married last month and this is the first time I’ve been involved in one of these events.”

Jackson turned to his wife, eyes narrowed. “Will someone explain to me what the hell’s goin’ on?”

Maria clamped her mouth shut, as if unsure of what to say. 

You folded your arms across your chest. “Go ahead. Tell him how you betrayed Rhett.”

“I…” Her eyes grew tearful, and she shook her head. “That was so long ago. It shouldn’t matter.”

Shocked, you stared at her for a moment. 

“No, you don’t get to do that. Rhett might’ve moved on from what you did, but I didn’t. He told me everything. How you went behind his back. How you broke your vows and cheated on him with his fucking brother. And you want to come here and act like you don’t know him? Like he just simply forgot what you did to him?! No, that’s not gonna fly with me.” 

Jackson’s face was slack with shock. “Maria…is that true?”

You noticed she still refused to look at Rhett. She nodded her head, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks and ruin her makeup. “It’s true,” she whispered. “I-I know I should’ve told you. I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t tell him you’re sorry. He’s not the one you cheated on. Tell Rhett.” You stepped forward slightly. “Look at him, Maria. Look my husband in the eye and tell him you’re sorry for cheating on him with his brother.” You were so fucking angry. You wanted her to pay penance for what she’d done. For breaking Rhett’s heart and spirit. 

“I don’t—”

“You never did apologize.” Rhett spoke for the first time. Maria finally managed to look at him. “After everythin’. I never got so much as a “I’m sorry” outta your mouth. You blamed everyone else. First it was fuckin’ Perry’s fault. Then it was my fault, because, what, I wasn’t home enough? I was always off at the rodeo? As if that gave you the green light to fuck another man in our bed.”

“Jesus Christ, Mar.” Jackson was not handling the news well. 

“No matter how many times I was away from you, I never looked at other women. Not once. Because I knew you were waitin’ for me at home, and I’d never go behind your back like that.”

Maria was floundering. “That was fifteen years ago, Rhett.”

“Sixteen,” you corrected, tone sharp. “Coming up on seventeen, actually. You owe him an apology for everything you did. So give it to him, Maria. Apologize.”

Bottom lip quivering, she forced herself to speak again, knowing she could not talk her way out of this situation. “Fine,” she managed, regret clear on her face, “I’m sorry, Rhett. I-I was so wrong to do what I did. I’ve regretted it every day of my life since then.” 

The air between you went still. Quiet. 

Rhett’s shoulders sagged. 

You lifted your hand to rest it reassuringly against his back. Waiting for him to speak. To decide if he would accept her apology. It was his choice, not yours. 

“Thank you,” was all he managed, voice gravelly, full of unspoken emotion. There was no I forgive you. 

Jackson sighed, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. “I should apologize, too. I promise you, I had no idea about any of this. I think I’ve been played for a fool,” It was clear he had much to discuss with his new bride. 

“I’d say you have,” you agreed. Then you looked at Maria again. “But maybe I should thank you, in a way. Because if he hadn’t left you, I never would have met him. I love this man the way he deserves. And I’ll defend him ‘til the day I die.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, you wondered if she was even truly sorry at all, or if she was simply sorry she got called out. Either way, she was speechless. 

“Again, I’m sorry. We’ve got a lot of things to discuss,” Jackson was the one who broke the tense silence, glancing ruefully at his wife. “I wish I would’ve known about this sooner. Could have saved us all a lot of embarrassment.”

“You didn’t know,” Rhett stated, “simple as that. But it’s over an’ done with now. If you’ll excuse us, m’ wife and I are gonna head home. Good luck figuring all your shit out. It ain’t my problem any longer.”

With that, he gently took hold of your arm, and guided you away from the dismayed couple. The small shock of adrenaline and boldness you’d felt when you went off on Maria was beginning to fade, and now you felt just a little embarrassed. But you did not regret sticking up for Rhett, not one bit. 

“I-I’m sorry, maybe I-” 

“We’ll talk about it outside,” Rhett told you as led you to the coatroom. 

You didn’t say anything more, focusing on getting your coat on and changing into your boots. You couldn’t read your husband’s expression. Was he upset with you for confronting his ex-wife? Had you embarrassed him? 

These thoughts plagued you as you sauntered out into the frigid night, and you worried that maybe you’d overstepped. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted you to say anything. Maybe he’d been content to just pretend he didn’t know Maria, as she’d done to him, and carry on as if everything was fine. 

As you walked to the truck, the silence drove you to speak again, because you simply could not take it any longer. 

“Rhett, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have— oh!”

In an instant, he grabbed you, swinging you around and pushing you (carefully) against the door of the truck, his hand at the back of your head to keep it from bumping the window. You gasped in shock, and barely had time to register what was happening before his mouth was on yours in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. 

Heat gathered in your belly, traveling through your extremities, down to your fingers and toes. Almost instantly, you relaxed, tension melting from your body in waves. 

When you parted, your breathing was labored, and your head was spinning. 

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Rhett breathed, chest heaving slightly. His eyes were narrowed, lips parted. 

Still trying to gain your bearings, you said, “it wasn’t too much?”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, darlin’. Maria needed to hear all that comin’ from someone who wasn’t me, and you were the best person for that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I was worried that maybe I overstepped. I don’t ever want to embarrass you. Least of all tonight, of all nights.”

He leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Y’didn’t embarrass me one bit. I’m glad you said somethin’. I felt like a goddamn idiot, just starin’ at her. Kinda didn’t know what to say. You’d think, after all these years, I would’ve thought about what I might say to her if I saw her again. But then you took all the words right outta my mouth.”

“Well I just couldn’t get past the audacity of pretending she was meeting you for the first time. That made me so mad, I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. After what she did, I wasn’t about to let her act like nothing even happened.” 

Rhett kissed you again before he spoke. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. Watchin’ you stand up for me…” he trailed off, his face only inches from yours, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Honey, you have no idea how sexy that was. I was watchin’ you the whole time, just amazed. You’re hot when you’re pissed.” He finished his words with a grin, though there was a huskiness to his voice.

Your heart fluttered within your chest, mouth going dry suddenly. “O-oh,” was all you managed, breathless. 

His expression grew desirous, and he ducked in nice and close, hands against the truck, bracketing either side of your head, caging you in. “You looked like one of them hissy, spittin’ little kittens.” Another kiss, this one deeper, more salacious. 

When his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, allowing him access. Your knees went weak, and you whimpered into the kiss. 

Reluctantly, he broke away, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Here’s what’s gon’ happen, darlin’,” he drawled. You had to process his words for a moment, your head fuzzy. “I’m gonna take you home. Then I’m gonna get you outta this pretty little outfit and make love to your cute body all night long. You deserve a reward for bein’ so good to me.”

You whined softly, nodding your head. It was as if your ability to speak had left you completely. That was the effect Rhett had on you. It was a wonder how you could go from angrily telling off Maria, to melting under your husband’s touch no more than ten minutes later. 

“Let’s go home.” He guided you into the truck, and once you were safely inside, he came around to his own side, and within seconds, he’d started the truck. Hurriedly, he turned on the heat, letting the interior warm up a bit before he pulled out of the parking lot, relieved to be leaving this stuffy event. 

As he turned onto the main road, you leaned over the console, head resting upon his shoulder. If you were being truthful, that whole altercation with Maria had zapped your energy. Funny how something like that could affect you so much. 

You’d been harboring that anger toward her for a while. And when you saw her, it boiled over like a kettle left on the stove for too long. 

But you did not regret the confrontation. Not one bit.

And now, you were the one that got to go home with Rhett, not her. You were going to end up naked in his bed that night. Not her. He was all yours. And always would be.

Perhaps, along with your anger, a fiery sense of possessiveness had washed over you. And maybe, just maybe, you had wanted to flaunt the fact that he was your man, and you loved him like no one else could. 

And as you reflected on that, you found yourself nuzzling closer to Rhett, mouthing at his neck, breathing in his scent. Spicy and earthy and slightly sweet, from both the cologne and the aftershave he wore. But then there was that underlying scent that he naturally possessed. An almost musky, manly scent that could only be described as Rhett. You swore you could get drunk off that scent.

He pervaded all your senses. All you could see, smell, hear, taste, feel, was him. And god, it drove you wild.

“Whoa there, darlin’. Be patient now, ya hear? We’ve still got a while before we’re home,” Rhett reasoned with you. You hadn’t realized you’d started trailing your hand along the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to his cock, hidden by his well fitting trousers. 

He was certainly not opposed to messing around while driving, however, he wanted to get you home so he could truly take his time with you. He didn’t want a rushed hand job in the car, he wanted to worship you. 

But you whined softly, sucking on his neck, tongue soothing over the heated skin. “I wan’ you,” you mumbled, rather pitifully.

“I know. An’ you can have me. After we get home.” 

But you kept suckling at his pulse point, and your hand kept traveling higher, and you made the prettiest little sounds, your neediness driving you. You were testing him. Seeing if he’d stop you. 

He gasped softly when you gently grasped his dick through his pants, hips shifting slightly. But the hand that wasn’t on the wheel came to rest heavily upon your own, and in a quiet, stern voice, he said, “I told you to wait.”

There was something so commanding in the way he said it. It made you draw your hand away from him instantly. “Sorry.”

He lovingly squeezed your thigh to show you he wasn’t upset. “Just you wait ‘til I get you home, honey. Gonna lay you out and fuck you nice an’ proper, the way you deserve.”

You knew he would fulfill that promise. Your belly filled with butterflies as you pictured what was to come. As of late, you had been exploring some new things. Delving into kinks you had not tried before, yet found yourself interested in. 

Rhett was very good about taking things at a slow pace. He knew what he liked, and had already experimented with a lot of things over the years. For you, however, it was different. You had been much less experienced than he was when you met him. You had been with a few people, but had never truly been satisfied. 

No one had cared enough to take the time to learn every inch of your body, so they could bring you the most pleasure imaginable. No, Rhett was the only one who had done that. He was the only one who cherished your sexuality and submission. Who saw you as a person, rather than an object for his own pleasure.

And when he’d first brought you home to the ranch, his intent had not been to get you into his bed. In fact, he resisted sleeping with you at all for the first six months of living together, because he did not want to make you feel pressured, after all the negative experiences you had been through.

In fact, you were the one who had initiated sex in the beginning, because you wanted him so badly, and yearned to experience that intimate connection with him.

And oh, how much you had learned since then. You had been expanding your sexual escapades and trying new things. You let Rhett introduce you to the different desires and kinks he had, and you had become rather comfortable expressing your own needs and wants to him. He had worked with you on that. He knew how important communication was, and he was adamant that you were open with each other.

As of late, you had begun to delve into the realm of dominant and submissive roles. Naturally, Rhett was the dominant one when it came to sex. It was how you preferred it, and he assumed that role with ease. But you had only just begun to partake in more intense and involved scenes.

You had never known what true release could feel like until he guided you through one of those more drawn out scenes. It was the first time you had ever entered into that floaty, euphoric state known as subspace. There was something so raw and beautiful about that experience. 

And tonight, he planned to bring you there again.

When he finally pulled into the long driveway that led up to the house, you were squirming in anticipation. You knew that once you crossed over the threshold into your home, that you could turn your brain off, and give him full and complete control. No more worrying about stuffy rancher’s events or conniving ex-wives.

All you had to focus on was being his obedient little girl.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.” Rhett shut the truck off and then quickly climbed out into the chilly night, coming around to open your own door for you, large hand grasping your own to guide you down from the truck.

Together, you hurried up the porch steps, and Rhett swiftly unlocked the door, stepping aside for you to head into the inviting warmth of the house, with him following suit seconds later. He shut the door behind him, blindly reaching for the light switch beside the door, which soon bathed the entryway in soft light. 

Normally, the first thing you did after coming inside and getting settled, was head into the living room to turn the Christmas tree lights on. But right now, you were rather distracted. 

You could already feel yourself slipping into that more submissive headspace. Something that was a bit new for you, with your recent and more involved exploration of the dynamic. But you welcomed it like you might welcome a warm hug. 

It was new for Rhett, too, as he was just beginning to grow accustomed to your tells. He noticed that your eyes would go a little unfocused. Your posture would change. You would become more clingy. Not that he minded, of course. He loved watching that shift in your demeanor. It filled his chest with warm, protective vibes.

You had discussed these things extensively before you even started participating in this dynamic. Rhett made sure every base was covered, because he wanted this to be a good experience for you. He wanted you to feel safe and comfortable. And you, in turn, wanted that for him. 

It was all built on trust. You trusted each other implicitly. And there were safeguards in place, for both of you. 

You were still learning as you went. All your likes, dislikes, things you wanted to try, so on and so forth. The possibilities were endless, it felt like. But there was one thing you were still uncertain of. And that was how to address him.

Oftentimes, you found yourself calling him Sir during these scenes. Yet it didn’t feel quite right. It didn’t roll off the tongue. Didn’t suit him. In your mind, you knew of the perfect title. The name that encapsulated everything he was. A title that was not only rooted in kink, but also in trust and reverence. 

But you hadn’t spoken the name yet. Despite all you had done together up to this point. How deep into subspace he’d coaxed you. That title? Daddy. 

Perhaps it was partly because there was a little part of you that was embarrassed. Shy. Despite the fact that you had no reason to be. But you had not discussed the title with him yet. You hadn’t found the right time to bring it up. And yet, it was always on the tip of your tongue when participating in kink settings. One day, you would slip up and say it, you were sure of it. 

How would he react? Would he tell you not to use the name? Or would he revel in it, and encourage you to use it again and again? 

You would soon find out. 

“C’mere.” His voice, velvety and deep, was suddenly in your ear. You were brought back to the present as he knelt down before you, gaze earnest. “Up.” He lifted your leg, carefully tugging your boot off your foot. Then, he did the same for the other one, leaving you standing in your stocking clad feet, staring down at him.

That quiet act of dominance made your brain go a bit haywire.

Then he rose to his full height and eased your coat from your body, taking the time to hang it in the hall closet before he turned back to you. At some point, he’d already removed his own boots and coat. Huh. You must’ve been daydreaming when he did that, as you had no recollection of it happening. 

Then he was crowding your space, solid and steady against you, hands moving to rest upon your hips. “Look at me.”

Your gaze flickered to him. 

“I wan’ take care of you tonight. Show you how proud I am, how much I love ya.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Be a good girl and go up and get ready for me. Clothes off. Make sure you’re on your knees.”

You replied affirmatively. Or rather, you tried to, but your mouth was loose around the word, and your head felt as if it was filled with cotton. Somehow, you managed to verbalize your answer in the end. “Yes sir.”

You turned, and on unsteady legs, you made your way to the staircase. Rhett watched you ascend the steps, and while you went up to ready yourself for him, he took a moment to get into the right headspace.

He took his role very seriously. Your submission was precious to him. A sacred, priceless gift that he deeply cherished. Seeing you embrace that part of yourself was one of the most beautiful things he had ever had the privilege of witnessing. 

He had to enter into the proper headspace to be able to handle that gift in the way that you deserved.

He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. He pictured you, so obediently doing what he’d instructed. Removing your clothes. Lowering yourself to your knees, ready and waiting for him. So perfect. All his. 

He rolled his neck, releasing the tension in his shoulders. Letting the day’s stressors melt away. Pushing it all aside. Now, it was time to focus on you. 

He let a few moments pass, giving you adequate time to prepare. Then, he climbed the stairs, passing through the hallway until he reached the end, where your shared bedroom was. As he crossed the threshold, he was pleased to find you waiting for him, kneeling at the foot of the bed. 

The sight took his breath away. 

You lifted your head as he walked in, eyes following his movements. Silent, waiting for him to take the lead. You watched him as he crossed the room. He took his time, shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves. 

All the while, you remained on the floor, naked.

He stepped toward you, appraising you. His hand came down to cup your cheek, and you immediately melted into his touch, body going lax, eyes fluttering shut. Giving yourself to him. 

“Look at you. M’ perfect little darlin’.”

Your heart sang at his praise. 

Hand still against your cheek, his thumb traced over your bottom lip. Wordlessly, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit, holding eye contact with him as you did so. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Oh, how eager you were. 

“What do you say if you want me to stop?” He asked. 

You pulled off of his thumb to answer with your safeword. “Appaloosa.” 

He hummed, satisfied with your answer, fingers lovingly stroking your cheek. Here, you were level with his crotch, and you found yourself reaching up, pawing at him through the fabric of his pants. 

For a moment, he watched you, enamored. His breath caught in his chest when you leaned forward, rubbing your cheek against him. 

“Can I play with it?” You so sweetly asked. 

It took him a moment to find his words. “‘Course you can.” He made quick work of unbuckling his belt, followed by the button and zipper of the pants. He pushed the fabric, along with his underwear, aside, before he freed his hardening cock. 

“This what you want? Hm?” Gripping the base in his large hand. 

Your mouth watered at the sight. He was so deliciously thick. 

Eagerly, you leaned forward, gently taking hold of him, feeling it grow harder in your palm. You offered a tentative lick to the very tip before you wrapped your lips around it, humming in delight. 

Rhett gazed down at you, in awe of your reverence. Your mouth felt so good around him, and the sounds you made as you took him further, little gums of delight, made him shiver. 

“Fuck, honey. Y’got no idea how good that wet li’l mouth feels on me,” he murmured as you inched your way down. You pulled back to swirl your tongue up and down his shaft, and he grunted, hips jolting slightly. “Yeah, fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you love it.”

"I love it,” you gasped, mouthing at him, hand still stroking. “So big, makes me so…” You trailed off as you drooled all over him, in a world of delight. 

"I know it. Makes you soakin’ wet, don’t it? If I let y’keep this up, that cunt of yours is gonna start dribblin’ all over the damn floor, ain’t that right?” He was well aware how needy you got when sucking him off. 

“Mhm.” You took him in your mouth again, inching down, down, down. He was fully hard now, and you had to widen your jaw further to accommodate him. 

He placed his hand on the back of your head, not pushing, but gently guiding. You were determined to take all of him, and he wasn’t going to stop you, but he was going to monitor you to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself to take more than you were ready for. 

He always liked to ease you into it, no matter how many times you’d done this, because he was hyper aware of your comfort, and would never push you further than you could handle. 

But you wanted all of it, and moments later, you found yourself with your nose pressed against his pubic bone, against the gathering of coarse, neatly kept hair. You swallowed around him, and he hissed, head falling back and eyes fluttering shut. 

“Christ.”

You wished you could stay that way longer, just from his reaction alone. Oh, how you loved to pleasure him. But you had your limits, and you soon had to pull back to breathe. 

As you did so, however, you brought your hand up to wrap around him, stroking his spit slick shaft, kissing along the side, humming at the taste of him.

“I love your cock,” you confessed, sounding entirely drunk already. What an effect he had on you. 

Rhett grunted softly, reaching out to run his knuckles over your cheek. You were so good for him. So willing to please.

You took him down your throat once again, relishing in the way your mouth stretched around him, how it was almost difficult to take him, but not so much so that it was painful. You felt like such a cock drunk whore, but how could you resist him when he made the most salacious sounds as your throat constricted around him?

It filled you with pride to know you were the one who elicited those sounds from him. The heat of possessiveness bloomed in your chest, and as you pulled off him to catch your breath again, you vocalized it. “Mine,” you murmured against him, kissing along the underside of his shaft. 

You heard him hum deep within his chest. “Oh, honey. You feelin’ possessive, huh?” He cooed. 

“Uh-huh. Mine, all mine.”

“Y’got that right. S’all yours.” It came out as a growl, and it made you whine softly, vibrating with need.

You were so fucking turned on, shivers ran through your body. You shifted, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You could feel your own arousal, slick between your legs. Rhett watched you, and the way you were rutting your hips against the air, and he groaned lowly. He couldn’t wait another minute. He needed to take you right then and there.

“C’mere.” He hauled you up, gently shushing your whine of protest. “I ain’t finishing down your throat, as much as I want to. When I come, it’s gonna be inside this pretty pussy.” His hand trailed down the front of your body until his fingers met the place where you needed him most.

His mouth curved into a delighted smile, the blue of his eyes darkening with desire. “Darlin’, you’re soaked.” He teased you with a featherlight touch, gathering your slick on his middle and ring fingers. Your knees almost buckled as he brushed over your sensitive little bundle.

Then he was lifting his hand and examining the sticky sheen of your arousal on his fingertips. “All this just from suckin’ my dick for a few minutes, huh?” 

You simply nodded in agreement, unable to speak. You burned with need for him, to the point where it clouded your brain, and you could not find it in yourself to be even a little embarrassed at your desperation. He loved that you didn’t try to hold back. He had always encouraged you to be confident in your desires, and he was so pleased that you were.

“Get on the bed for me.”

You complied, turning to climb onto the plush king-size bed. As you settled, you watched him unbutton his shirt, shrugging out of it and carelessly dropping it on the floor. His pants and underwear were pulled the rest of the way down his legs, and soon, he was just as bare as you were, cock bobbing heavily as he stepped toward you.

He was breathtaking. Naked as the day he was born, body decorated with both tattoos and scars from his youth. Markings that each held a special origin story. All of which he’d told you during the countless nights you lay in bed with him, tracing the scars and ink.

You were still riddled with disbelief over the fact that he was yours. This strong, determined, loving, gentle, beautiful man had pledged himself to you, ‘til death did you part. Oh, how lucky you were. 

“Look at me.” His voice, low and smooth as velvet, swirled around you like the heady smoke from the hand carved pipe he liked to puff on every evening. 

Your eyes flickered up to his. A gaze so intense you feared you might disintegrate beneath it. He climbed onto the bed, maneuvering his body over your own, straddling you, cock brushing against your abdomen as he moved. 

He was so big above you. You might even say imposing, if you didn’t feel so safe and protected with him. He was broad. Deceptive strength hiding within the sinew of his being, from years of intense physical labor.

God, you wanted him to consume your every sense. Wanted him inside you, surrounding you, body warm and steady against yours, scent filling your nose, moans filling your ears. You wanted it so badly that you were growing impatient.

You looked down, and whimpered pathetically, wanting to be filled. Almost frantically, you began rutting your hips, trying to coax him to slip inside you. But he had other plans.

“Hey now,” Rhett drawled, “slow down there, little darlin’. Ain’t gotta rush.”

“But I–”

“You’ll get it, I promise. But let me take my time with y’ first, wanna enjoy my baby.”

He wanted to worship you the way you deserved. So he began his descent, kissing you languidly on the mouth, tongue delving past your lips, tasting you, relishing in the whine you let out. When he pulled back, your mouth was spit slick and your eyes had gone a little unfocused. 

With a delighted smile, he continued on down, kissing your chin, then trailing down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping at the skin, soothing over it with his tongue. God, he was addicted to the taste of you. 

“Could just eat you up,” he murmured against you. 

Your hands found their way to his hair as he went lower, kissing along your chest, down your abdomen, down, down, down until he reached your thighs. There, he settled, large hands gripping each of them as he kissed the delicate skin along the inside. 

He peppered little love bites there, and the sound of your breathy little gasps and moans was music to his ears. He loved your body. He loved making you feel good. And he always felt a swell of pride, knowing he was the only man who had this privilege.

There had been a few others before him, but you had confessed that they had no idea how to pleasure you. They hadn’t brought you to the heights of bliss that he had. They had been poor lovers, unconcerned with your own desires. Careless. 

He had shown you how good it could be. And now that you’d gotten a taste, you couldn’t get enough. Neither could he. Even though time had passed, he was still just as enamored with you, if not more so. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, honey,” he lulled, as his fingers carefully parted your glistening folds. “S’what you deserve.”

He gazed up at you through hooded eyes, gauging your reaction as he offered a tentative lick, tasting you, teasing you. You were breathtaking above him, body undulating in anticipation of what was to come, chest heaving. Even as you hands remained in his hair, fingers threaded through the silver locks, you showed no instinct to steer him, to force him to hurry, despite the fact that you did want instant gratification. He’d told you not to rush, and you would obey, just as you always did.

Murmuring soft praises, he lowered his eager mouth slowly into the honeyed warmth between your thighs. And oh, how messy you were, dripping down his chin as he licked into you, savoring in the heady taste. His hands held fast at your thighs, forcing them wider apart.

Let me in, pretty thing. My sweet baby.

Jus’ relax, yeah? Lemme eat this pussy for a while.

You obeyed his commands, which were muffled against your cunt, letting him devour you as he saw fit. You let out the sweetest little squeak of delight, and he couldn’t help but smile against you, wanting to draw more of those sounds out of you. So unashamed of your pleasure, wanting him to know how good he was making you feel. 

He buried his face even further between your legs, mouth lapping at your wet folds, intoxicated with the taste of you, uncaring if he came away with his mouth soaked. That was what he wanted, after all. The messier, the better.

You shivered, squeezing your eyes shut as you lost yourself to the feeling of his mouth against you. He noisily slurped at you, humming in satisfaction. As always, he got just as much pleasure out of this as you did.

When you lifted your head to gaze down at him, he locked eyes with you, and finally wrapped his lips around your neglected bud, sucking firmly, listening to you cry out his name, growling when your fingers tugged at his hair.

Your back arched off the bed, body engulfed in the throes of warm bliss, fizzing through your bloodstream. 

Eager to hear you call his name again, he flattened his tongue against your clit, his eyes fixed on the way your head rolled back, chest jutting out, heaving in time with your labored breaths. 

Yes, right there, don’t stop.

He sucked on your clit until your legs began to tremble around his head, muscles involuntarily twitching as you lost control of some of your motor functions, brain clouded with desire, experiencing a sensation that was out of body, not of this world. 

If he kept going, you knew you’d quickly fall apart. But as you began to grind against his face, he pulled back away, burying his nose against the apex of your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, a sharp contrast to the pleasure you had just been feeling.

The way you sobbed into the open air made him shiver, driving him to continue, determined to draw that beautiful sound from you again. 

He soon brought his fingers into the mix, teasing you with them, dipping them inside you, groaning softly at the feeling of your velvety walls, which would soon be clasped around his cock. 

But first, he had a different idea. 

You deserved as many orgasms as you could handle, after what you’d done tonight. And he was determined to give them to you. Starting with one on his tongue. 

So he dove back in, fingers still inside you as he began to swirl his pink tongue around you. You kept one hand in his hair, but the other flew out to the side, gripping at the quilt beneath you.

You were losing yourself, he could tell. Gone was your restraint, replaced with unabashed moans and whimpers, growing all the more desperate for release as time went on. He loved when your reservations went out the window. When you let yourself succumb to that sexual energy thrumming through your body. 

As you trembled above him, he hastened his ministrations, free hand pressing against your lower abdomen, anchoring you, palm warm and familiar against your skin. 

“Give it to me, honey,” he pleaded against you, curling his fingers within you, coming in contact with that spongy little surface deep inside you that made you see stars. “C’mon, wan’ this pussy to squirt all over my face.”

You knew it would happen, too. Before Rhett, you had been convinced that you couldn’t experience such a thing. But he had quickly proved you wrong. Now, neither of you could get enough. He loved drawing it out of you. Watching your release soak the sheets.

“Sh-shou–should g-get a towel,” you managed to stammer, barely able to find your voice, searching for the words in your brain, as if you’d suddenly gone dumb. But you were still aware that you were going to make a mess.

Rhett didn’t care. “I’ll clean it up,” he promised, gasping against your dripping cunt, so eager to taste you, to be soaked by you, molten gold, shimmering against his skin, the evidence of the affect he had on you.

Your tight little hole fluttered with the need to be filled, swallowing his fingers in, yet in need of something more, something bigger, to be joined as one with his body and his soul.

So he upped the intensity, tongue lapping at you, mouth sucking on your poor, thrumming clit, urging you on, silently begging you to let go. Come for me, fuckin’ soak me. 

And you were there, cresting that peak, climbing higher, higher, higher, until, “Oh! I-I’m–” But the words died in your throat as your body went taut, moments before deep tremors wracked you, overwhelming you as you unraveled like a spool of thread in his skilled hands.

Instinctively, he buried his face deeper, lapping your release from you, his rounded nose pressed against your oversensitive little bundle. Addicted to your taste. Pleading for more, encouraging you to give it all to him.

“There ya go. Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

God, he was still going. Fingers and tongue keeping speed, not giving you any reprieve. Even as you came down from the intensity, vibrating, shaking, gasping. You had to push his head away as the pleasure became too much, like a fire left unattended, consuming its surroundings. 

He relented, pressing a delicate kiss to your still twitching clit before lifting himself, biceps flexing as he brought his body to hover over you, dragging his wet mouth up your belly, over your heaving breast. 

When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. And when he parted from you, he smiled at your fucked out gaze, big hand coming up to brush over your forehead, stroking your warm cheek, as he cooed at you.

“Such a good girl f’me. Think you can give me another one?”

You nodded.

“Uh-uh. Words, baby. Talk t’me.”

“Y-yes.” God, you could barely speak. Why did your head feel as if it was filled with cotton, your brain as useless as a stuffed Build-A-Bear’s? All you knew was that you wanted more of Rhett. More of his touch. More of bliss he could provide you with. More, more, more.

He smiled. “Yeah?” His hand skimmed down your tummy, fingers exploring, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I wanna make y’feel good. Make this pussy come as many times as she can handle. How’s that sound?” His voice caressed you like black silk.

Could you truly handle such a thing? You were no stranger to overstimulation, but somehow, something felt different about tonight. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But you felt much more…vulnerable, in a way. And now, as your husband lingered over you, so broad and solid and strong, you felt so small, so…what? Fragile? Perhaps.

Yet you found yourself saying, “o-okay.”

He hummed, thumb brushing over your cheek, then your parted lips. “That’s m’girl. You tell me if it gets to be too much, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

Then he was pulling away, and suddenly, the lack of contact had you whining in protest as you were robbed of his warmth, of his contact.

“Hold your horses, darlin’. I’m just gettin’ situated.” He moved so that his back was against the headboard, and then he patted the space beside him, which you eagerly occupied. He tugged you close, so that you were pressed against his side, once again consumed with his warmth. It brought you such comfort.

He arranged you exactly how he wanted you, with your head resting on his shoulder, your thighs parted, offering him a clear view of your glistening apex, swollen from your previous orgasm.

As he brought his hand down to rest there, you realized he intended to use his fingers to bring you to your end a second time. Yet you glanced over to find his cock achingly hard, resting against his hip, and you made a forlorn sound of longing.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry,” he assured you, “remember, I wanna take my time with you.”

You thought you might die if you didn’t get him inside you soon, but at the same time, you wanted to be in the moment and thoroughly enjoy the reverence he wished to bestow upon you.

So you let your head loll against him, watching through hooded eyes as his thick, yet somehow still elegant, fingers began to swirl over you. Teasing, running along the outer edges of your pussy before delving in further, smearing your arousal over the delicate skin there.

He was delighted at how wet you were. All for him. All because of him. “Who made y’this wet?”

“You.” A whisper. Barely audible.

“Louder.”

“Y-you.” Your voice cracked. 

His fingers brushed over that bundle again, and you hissed softly. “Still can’t hear you.” Teasing. Knowing full well what you had said, but wanting you to repeat it nonetheless.

“You did!” A cry that echoed throughout the bedroom. 

He turned your face with his free hand and kissed you languidly, just as his fingers dipped inside you again. The broken moan that was ripped from your throat was swallowed by his eager mouth.

He wasn’t rough, because he knew you were still sensitive after coming on his tongue. But he was deliberate, knowing also that you needed a little more to bring you over the edge a second time. This one didn’t come as easily. He would have to work for it. But that was the beauty of it, because after this one, your body would let its guard down, and your sensitivity would allow him to draw orgasmic bliss from you much more easily.

His fingers worked you over, having mapped out your body long ago. Sometimes it felt as if he’d memorized you down to the marrow of your bones. As if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

It was why he knew you could handle this. Why he soothed you as you cried out against his mouth, assuring you that you could give him more, that you were his good girl and good girls always do what they’re told.

Yes, you could be good for him. You wanted to be. You were desperate to be. “I can be good! I-I-I promise!” You heard yourself gasping into the air, but your voice sounded so far away, so disembodied, as if you were speaking from somewhere far away and not from Rhett’s king-size bed.

“I know you can, I know it,” he assured you, his heart rate quickening in his chest as he watched you. Your eyes were unfocused again. You were practically drooling. And the way you were clenching around his fingers had his cock twitching. 

“Please, please, please.” You had no idea what you were pleading for. He was already giving it all to you. But you were suddenly so overwhelmed, body hot all over, tears pricking at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as you convulsed in his arms, breath coming out in short bursts.

You were clutching his arm, fingers digging into his flesh, sure to leave indents, though you were hardly aware of it. Too focused on that building flicker of pleasure, so much more intense than the first, almost unbearable. Too much and just right and not enough, all at once. How was that even possible?

Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop. Right there. 

You weren’t sure if you were saying the words, or merely thinking them. But then his voice was in your ear. “I can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. You’re close, ain’t ya baby?” But you couldn’t utter a vocal confirmation. You could barely even nod your head. 

“Give it to me.”

Almost there.

“That’s it, just let go.”

So close. You could reach out and grasp it if you tried, like a delectable fruit ready to be plucked from a tree. Yet it wouldn’t descend upon you. Not yet. And with each passing moment, as his fingers carried you toward the crest and your body became a live wire, you were beginning to spiral.

The tears that had been gathering in your eyes poured down your cheeks. Hot against your skin. It wasn’t merely a state of pleasure he was bringing you to. This was ethereal. Otherworldly. 

And then he was there, in your line of sight, mouth curled in determination, eyes hard-set. “Come.”

And you did. Mouth falling open in a silent scream, gaze locked with his, you tensed, as if your body was preparing for the onslaught it was about to experience. And then you were free-falling, tumbling down, down, down, ears ringing, heart hammering, crying out incoherent half-sentences as you were consumed.

You had no recollection of blacking out, but when you opened your eyes, you were cradled in Rhett’s arms as he gently rocked you back and forth. “I’m here. I’ve got ya. Did so good for me. Fuck, honey, you’re perfect. My best girl. My perfect darlin’.”

God, you were crying. Tears continuously streaming down your cheeks. And oh, how you shivered as you curled into him, burying your face against his chest, seeking out his warmth, his solace.

His fingers skimmed along your spine. Grounding you. Bringing you back to him. Back to your Rhett. He was not shocked at your tears. He was used to them, as they fell during most intense scenes.

But now, it felt different. You clung to him more desperately, body melting into his, as if you wished to become one with his flesh. One body, one spirit. And in your hazy state, you did not want to part from him. The thought of doing so was devastating. Unfathomable. 

“I’m here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

Had you pleaded with him to stay? Maybe you had, in your delicate state. Don’t leave me. I’ll be good.

He’d never leave you. And certainly not when you were like this, bottom lip quivering, wide eyes looking up at him as if he’d hung the very sun, moon, and stars in the sky.

He held you close, lips against your forehead, fingers drawing patterns against your skin. You had no idea how long you remained that way. It could have been five minutes. It could have been fifty minutes. All you knew was that when you looked at him, he was gazing down at you with eyes so full of love.

“Hey there. Y’alright?”

“Uh-huh.” Your tongue felt like lead. 

He smoothed his knuckles along your cheek. “That was a lot. I dunno if you’re ready for more,” he admitted, unwilling to push you too far. It was never, ever his goal to push you to the point of safewording. 

But your eyes suddenly grew wide with alarm, and you gripped his arm. “N-no! Still need to make you feel good.”

“I’m alright,” he assured you. He could take care of it himself, if need be.

But your face crumpled, and you shook your head. “No, please, I can take it, I want…I need…” You couldn’t form the words. All you knew was that you were desperate to be filled by him, and the thought of going to bed empty was more than you could bear in your fragile state.

“Hey now,” he spoke, low and slow, as if speaking to a skittish horse. “Don’t cry, sweet thing. If you want more, I’ll give it to you. But we’re gonna take it slow, alright?” He kissed your nose. 

“A-alright.”

This time, he kissed your lips. And then, gently, he guided you until your head was resting against the soft pillows. He made sure to provide constant physical contact, knowing you needed it.

As he laid you out, he looked down at you with sparkling eyes, admiring you, and your willingness to do whatever he asked of you. 

Eagerly, you parted your legs, pulling at his shoulders, urging him toward you. But his movements were not hurried. “Easy,” he gently warned. His hands glided down your thighs, squeezing lightly. 

Wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible, he leaned over, haphazardly reaching into the nightstand drawer to retrieve a small bottle of lube. As overstimulated as you were, he had no desire to bring any discomfort into the mix. He would use the whole damn bottle of lubricant if he needed. 

He warmed it against his palm before he slicked it over his shaft, and you whimpered pathetically as you watched him, yearning for it to be inside you. 

How were you so desperate? As if you hadn’t just experienced two earth shattering orgasms. Yet here you were, near tears, pushing your hips up, seeking him out. Why wouldn’t he give it to you? Couldn’t he see you were aching for it? 

You were losing yourself. “Please. Why won’t you…why can’t I have it?” Still tearful. If you hadn’t been in such a delicate headspace, you would have responded much differently to his hesitance. But here and now, you took it as denial. That he didn’t want you. That he was going to withhold it from you because he thought you couldn’t take it. 

And the thought of that made you crumble. 

You heard him, the low rumble of his voice, soothing you. And you felt him. Cock heavy against you. Sliding over you, aided by the extra lubricant. But it was not inside you. You still remained empty. And you simply couldn’t stand it. 

You didn’t mean to say it. If you’d been more lucid, if you’d had more decorum about you, you would have been so embarrassed. But it tumbled off your lips so naturally, you didn’t register it until it was too late. And even then, you were vaguely aware of what you were saying. 

“P-please, Daddy. Wan’…wan’ your cock.” 

Rhett stilled above you, breath hitching in his throat. You were pawing at his chest, seemingly unaware that you’d even said the word. You’d never called him that before. Though, admittedly, he was fairly certain he’d heard the beginnings of it times before, when you were in the throes of pleasure. D-da— sir!

This was not something you had discussed. However, hearing you say it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The name settled into him, and it did not feel foreign. In fact, it felt familiar. Comfortable. A role he was always meant to take on. 

So he did not balk when you whined it into his mouth, asking so sweetly to be filled by him. He knew reacting would be very jarring for you, and would take you out of the moment. So he simply went with it, trying the name out, testing how it felt rolling off his own tongue. 

“Yeah? Poor baby. Need it so bad. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna give it to you.” It felt natural. As if he’d spoken his own given name. 

He continued to use it for the rest of the scene. 

As he began to inch his hips forward, he kissed you sweetly, humming into your mouth as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

And then you could feel the pressure of the blunt head of his cock pressing into you, and you squeaked softly, eyes fluttering shut. Finally. Your fluttering cunt gave no resistance as he inched into you, but the stretch was still there, and it stole the breath from your lungs.

Rhett watched your anatomy accommodate him, never one to grow tired of the sight. “Poor little pussy can barely take me,” he murmured in mock concern.

“Y-yes I can. Don’t take it away. Please, Daddy.” There it was again. That sacred title.

Oh, you sounded so pitiful, it made his heart clench in his chest. He ducked forward, mouth brushing over yours. “Hey now, I’m not gonna take it away, I promise.” Then his hand was resting against your clavicle. “Deep breath for me.”

You obeyed, taking in a slow breath before releasing it. He was bringing you back to yourself. Back to him. Keeping you from spiraling.

“What’s your color, baby?” He asked. During moments like this, he preferred to use a color system, so he could gauge where your headspace was at.

You had to search for the word in your head. It almost felt as if you were sifting through a dream, trying to return to consciousness. You heard yourself reply with, “g-green.”

He smiled, lovingly trailing the pad of his index finger over the slope of your nose. “Good girl.” Then he was kissing you again, tongue delving into your mouth, swallowing your sweet little moan as he continued to nudge his hips forward. 

It was always the initial stretch that got you. Almost too much, yet somehow just enough. He was always careful. Always calculated. Never intending to hurt you by going too fast before you were ready.

But it was not always easy to hold back. Especially now, when your body was so responsive to him, so ready to take every last inch as deep as you could.

The warm, wet slide of your cunt along the length of his hard cock sent him forward, face buried against the side of your neck, mouthing at the delicate skin over your pulse point. 

“Oh, Daddy.”

Good lord, you would be the death of him if you kept addressing him like that. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d like it. Hadn’t even thought about it until now. But you said it so sweetly, so reverently, and he knew it was going to stick from here on out.

“There y’go,” he spoke lowly as his body became flush with yours, every inch of him seated within you, still, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

And the way you looked up at him? He swore, he’d die. Wide eyes, furrowed brow, quivering mouth. “I-I did it. I took all of it. I’m good. I’m good for you.”

His heart clenched in his chest. “Yes you are, sweet thing. So good for Daddy. M’best girl.” With the shock of pleasure that was already creeping along the expanse of his spine, he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not when you were so sweet and good and perfect for him. A precious gift bestowed upon him from heaven above.

He bent low over you, arms braced against the bed, as he began to move. Drawing back slowly, carefully. Easy there, little gal, easy. 

As he thrust forward, a sob tore from your throat, but he drank it down eagerly, mouth over yours, swallowing you up. As he built a rhythm, your hands began to wander, eager to feel him, muscles rippling beneath your touch.

Rhett hissed sharply as fingernails scraped down his spine, over his broad shoulders, sure to leave the evidence of your tryst in the form of pink stripes. Markings he would wear proudly once he was finished with you. 

But your hands soon climbed higher, fingers raking through graying locks. If you hadn’t been in such a hazy state, you might have marveled at how it looked like a silver halo around the crown of his head. 

Instead, you were distracted by the fact that you were close once again, warmth blossoming in your lower abdomen as your cunt pulsed around your husband’s cock. He moaned deep within his chest, driving forward again, deeper still. Knocking the breath from your very lungs with how full he had you feeling.

“You’re already close, ain’t ya baby?” He spoke, voice strained, barely contained. 

You nodded, eyes wide and glimmering with tears once again. You looked so innocent beneath him, and he should have been ashamed to admit what that did to him. Instead, he fed into it. “Don’t worry. Daddy’ll get you there.”

He knew you wouldn’t need a lot to get you there. He was quite certain you wouldn’t even be able to handle his fingers against your sensitive little pearl, so instead, he opted to grind deeply against you, the course gathering of hair at the base of his dick offering just enough stimulation to send you reeling.

You swore you saw stars, and your eyes rolled back in your head, body shuddering beneath him as if you were electrified. 

“Daddy, I-I’m g-gonna–!” You couldn’t get the words out. They were stolen from your mouth, fizzling out, dissolving into thin air.

Your belly tensed, muscles trembling, perspiration beginning to shimmer across your skin as the beginnings of your third orgasm spread through your body. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his back, nails leaving crescent shapes. You cried out, head thrown back, mouth open, sobbing, begging, pleading.

“That’s it, darlin’. Be a good girl and let go for me. I’m right behind ya.”

It wasn’t like the first two crescendos of bliss you had experienced. This one washed over you slowly, sneakily, like a thief in the night, one that you didn’t realize was there until it was already upon you. And then you were engulfed in comforting heat. Not fiery flames, but a warm embrace. 

Rhett’s mouth found your own again, kissing you, swallowing the pitchy sounds drawn out of you by your orgasm. Sweet little whimpers of “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

God, it felt endless. Ebbing through you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Flowing in tandem with your life force. Bringing you to new heights of bliss. “That’s my good little darlin’. Comin’ so much for me. Little pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.” He was mere seconds from meeting his own end, so intense he could feel it vibrating through his jaw.

In the midst of your own frenzy, you could hear yourself begging him. “Daddy, please. Please come inside me.”

And then he was burying his face against your neck, teeth biting into tender flesh, hands grasping your hips tightly in his large palms. He was spiraling, unable to stave off the inevitable as you pulsed around him, milking him for all he had to give, letting him make a mess of your already sticky cunt. 

A sleepy, delighted smile spread across your face at the feeling of his seed flooding you, claiming you, marking you as his. 

He braced himself above you as he came down, arms trembling, trying not to rest his full weight against you. Aftershocks sparkled along his spine, pulling shudders from him as he took a moment to catch his breath, mouth hot and open against your collarbone.

As he came back to himself, he lifted his head, his first instinct to check on you, to take care of you. “Hey there, sweet thing. Y’still with me?” Fingers caressing your cheek.

Your eyes were still unfocused. “Uh-huh,” you managed.

Slipping right back into that dominant role, he leaned back a bit, fully examining your face. Sweat dampened your forehead, and more tears shone in your eyes. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.” soothing his palm over your forehead. 

Ever so gently, he eased his softening cock from you, and you whimpered, not wanting to be apart from him. But he pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you, cradling you against his chest.

You clung to him tightly, as if you were afraid he’d float away from you if you didn’t hold on. All the while, he talked to you in a steady, even tone. Coaxing you down, as if you were a kite he was guiding out of the sky. He’d never let you fall to the ground, for his hands would be there to catch you before you did.

“Did so good f’me. Beautiful baby. Did so good for your daddy.”

Daddy. That seemed to draw you back to the present, and your eyes widened as clarity dawned on you. “I…I’m sorry. Know we didn’t talk about it, but I…” You couldn’t get the words out. Could barely form a coherent thought. Yet embarrassment had begun to seep through the cracks, despite the fact that you had nothing to be embarrassed over.

“Shh, don’t you start spiralin’ on me, honey.” His hand rested at the base of your jaw, keeping your gaze fixed upon him. “You listen here. If callin’ me daddy is somethin’ you wanna start doin’, I’m more than okay with it. Honestly, hearin’ you call me that…it really did somethin’ to me. If…if that’s what you need me to be for you, then that’s what I’ll be.”

Relief flooded you. “Really?”

“Really.” He kissed you softly, lovingly. “You’re my darlin’, I love you more than words can express, and I want to be everythin’ you need.”

You threw your arms around his neck. “Oh, I love you. I love you so much.”

He held you even closer, closing his eyes as he relished in your body against his. “My perfect girl. Always gonna be whatever you need.”

Looking back, you would feel a little silly for being afraid to give him the title of Daddy. But for now, you were laden with endorphins, an almost dopey smile on your face as you basked in the afterglow, and in the realization that you no longer had to hold back the address. You could utilize the title whenever you wished.

And he would assume that role with ease, wearing it like a well-fitting glove. Natural. Familiar. Right. Just like he’d so easily assumed the role of dominant. And oh, how skilled he was at it. 

It didn’t end after your tryst in the sheets was over. No, it continued as he carefully laid you out against the bed, with whispered promises of cleaning you up, of taking care of you. And as you faded in and out of a blissful, floaty state of mind, he handled your body with tenderness, wiping you clean, fingers massaging taut muscles, rendering you boneless.

He praised you continuously, assuring you that he was proud of you, that you were always so good for him. Beautiful, perfect, angelic. 

And oh, how grateful he was to have you to look after. Someone he could bestow his tenderness upon. Someone who loved him so wholly and completely. Although he had endured much pain to get to this point, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. It had all shaped him into the man he needed to be. The man you needed him to be.

He had a lot of regrets in life, but you were not one of them. He was reminded of that when he witnessed you stand up for him that night, unleashing your contained fury on the woman who had broken him. And he was able to stand there and watch in awe as you did so, his heart no longer in pieces, but tenderly put back together by your gentle hands. 

And as he tucked you into bed that night, after making sure a clean quilt was in place, he was struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Whoever had decided to bless him with your presence, whether that be God, or the universe, or some other greater being, he was forever indebted to. 

You often liked to say that he’d saved you, but that wasn’t true. In reality, you had saved him. You had given him a purpose. A reason to go on. And he would cherish you for the rest of his life.

“I love you, little darlin’.” 

“Luh you, Rhett,” you sleepily murmured as you curled into him. He smiled, his eyes blurring as a wave of tears washed over him.

He was yours forever. His soul was knit with yours for all eternity. In the next life, and the next, and every life in between, he would always be yours. Your protector. Your provider. Your million dollar man.

[dunmeshistash]

I have to wonder, how did thistle know marcille was a half-elf? Like. I don't think he's really seen that many elves, right?

No but apparently to other elves the fact she's a half-elf is pretty obvious, even if Thistle hasn't seen many other elves Marcille has rounded ears and round eyes, which is pretty unusual for elves as you can see by the race portraits. I imagine just from the ears it would be super obvious to him? Or even maybe just the fact that she looks so different from him would make he think that

And he's a studied guy, since he knew about how half-elves work he has probably studied about elves at some point? Or heard about elves from tallmen, there's an extra where Delgal is reading about elf cake with Thistle, maybe it has happened about other elf subjects too

And Thistle also has some elf preferences like how he keeps his hair long and "feminine" different from the male tallmen in the golden kingdom, so I can only guess he does know about how elves are supposed to be to some extent? (I would assume it was influence from the tallmen around him wanting to keep him more 'elf-like' but he had long hair when he arrived that was then cut short)

Anyway, idk, I can only make assumptions

[galactic-magick]

Rest of My Life: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Reader and Viktor have their wedding and first time together. Takes place right after my last fic Life Changes.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT. fem!reader

Author’s Notes: Second half of this fic is smut, it starts and ends at the *** in case anyone only wants to read the first half. Reader is a virgin in this and is implied to be demisexual/somewhere on the ace spectrum, but I don’t think you have to be that necessarily to enjoy the story. I just wanted to write it from that perspective since I’m demisexual myself. I went back and forth a lot deciding if Viktor should be a virgin too, but I was convinced by the “this isn’t my bedroom” line and his freaky moves with Jayce in S2 that he probably has at least some experience. So he’s gonna talk reader through it lmao. Happy reading :)

-

Your roommates are unsurprisingly still awake when you return home, reading your face instantly.

“What happened?” Eli asks. “Are Viktor and that other guy okay?”

Your shocked expression fades into a smile and you crash on the couch with them, giggling uncontrollably.

“Everyone’s fine. They figured it out, and now Viktor is going to be a partner in the company.”

“Wow.” Chanthou says, eyebrows raised.

“Mhmm. And then he asked me to marry him. Tomorrow.”

A beat of silence.

“What?!” Eli exclaims. “He didn’t tell us he was doing it today!”

Chanthou shrugs, “Well, he did ask for our blessing months ago. He didn’t really say when.”

“He asked you guys for your blessing? That’s so sweet.”

“Of course he did. I would’ve beat his ass if he didn’t.” Eli chuckles. “Sorry, did I even say congratulations?”

“No, but it was implied,” you laugh.

-

The next twenty-four hours are a whirlwind. As much as you’ve said you don’t mind keeping things simple, your friends insist on treating you at least a little bit, helping you with your hair, makeup, and nails. You pick out something nice to wear, having a blast while they get you ready. You’re going to miss living with them dearly.

If you’re honest, they’re the main reason you haven’t suggested moving in with Viktor sooner. As much as you love him, your friends have been so near and dear to your life for years now. Leaving them—even just to a different apartment a few blocks away—feels like a stab in the chest. Especially with everything moving so fast. You’re about to be the wife of Piltover’s finest scientist, after all.

Yet, there’s no doubt in your mind that this is the right thing—long overdue truthfully. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You know he’ll love you how you deserve, and any fear and uncertainty about the future seems quieter when you’re around him. You love everything about him inside and out, and you can’t believe he’ll be yours.

Your roommates have made you look beautiful, enhancing all your best features and using all your best colors. You grin at your reflection.

“I should probably go find my future husband, hmm?”

-

“I know it’s short notice, but—“

“Of course I will, Viktor!” Jayce hugs him. “I will be the best best man.”

Viktor isn’t used to receiving physical affection from anyone other than you, but he’s not necessarily opposed to it. Jayce is the reason for everything that’s about to happen, everything that Hextech is going to change. Viktor has bonded with him so quickly, it only seemed natural that he would be involved in this big day.

“So um, what is a best man supposed to do?” Jayce asks.

“I’m...not sure.”

“I could write a speech?”

“No,” Viktor shakes his head and smirks. “You’ll talk too long.”

“What else is there to do then? I’ve never been to a wedding before.”

“Hm. Me neither.”

Suddenly Viktor realizes that planning a wedding in the span of a day is not, in fact, easy. He has no idea where he even wants the ceremony, or how to make it official and legal. His whims got the best of him, it seems.

“I could forge some rings?” Jayce suggests.

“Ah, yes. Good idea.” Viktor nods.

Jayce scurries away, and Viktor’s face falls to his hands. Is this too crazy? He knows nothing about weddings, and very little about marriage itself, for that matter. He knows he wants it—that much is clear—but the only example he grew up with was his parents, and they’ve been gone for quite some time.

If only he could get their advice now. They would’ve loved you, he’s sure of it.

He decides the best use of his time at the moment is to get his apartment ready, assuming you’ll want to come home with him tonight. He wants to make everything special for you, wants to make everything perfect.

He stops by some shops on his way back, buying way more than he should safely carry. He then gets to neatening up his space as best he can, covering the bed with fresh blankets and scattering flowers on the floor. He sets up some candles in your favorite scents on the tables and windowsills, nearly lighting them out of habit. He then assesses his work, making adjustments to the set up and gathering anything else he can think of. He’s not the most natural romantic, but he certainly gives his all when it comes to you.

While he’s still at home, he changes into something nicer and smooths out his hair. He doesn’t own a mirror, but it looks fine enough from his vague reflection in the window on his way back out. His only mission now is to find out how to officially marry you.

-

You and your friends run into Jayce as you’re heading towards the Academy, chuckling a bit as he swiftly hides something behind his back.

“Jayce?” you step up to him, raising your brows. “Have you seen my fiance recently?”

“Everything’s under control!” he blurts out.

“You lost him, didn’t you?”

“No! We just...don’t really know how to do a wedding. Last I saw him he said something about asking Heimerdinger to officiate. We’re going to meet back in the lab, I think.”

“Heimerdinger, huh? And what’s that behind you?”

“Nothing.” he dodges your attempts to look around him. “It’s a surprise!”

“Alright, alright. Can we come with you back to the lab?”

He nods, moving his hands quickly in front of him as he turns around to lead you.

“This is the genius inventor Viktor’s partnering with?” Eli jests.

“Viktor says he’s pretty brilliant.” you laugh.

-

Viktor manages to successfully recruit Heimerdinger to officiate, after no less than a twenty-minute reprimand of disappointment that Viktor disobeyed him. As proud as he is of Viktor’s achievements, and how impressed he is that Hextech might actually work, he’s still a bit burned that Viktor went behind his back with it. After he gets his frustrations out of his system, though, he’s quite ecstatic that Viktor is marrying you.

It’s not long before you show up with Jayce and your friends, and Viktor practically vaults himself to you on his cane, eyes scanning you adoringly.

“You’re beautiful.” he smiles, kissing your cheek. “Are you ready?”

“Of course I am.” you find comfort in his gaze, heart thundering in your chest.

Heimerdinger climbs on top of a nearby table, glancing at a pad of notes.

“Now, I haven’t done one of these in nearly a hundred years, so forgive me.” Heimerdinger clears his throat. “Viktor, my boy, do you intend to take Y/N as your wife?”

Viktor takes your hands and squeezes them, “I do.”

“And do you promise to love, honor, respect, and be faithful to her until death?”

“I do.”

Heimerdinger asks the same to you, and you feel Jayce and your friends watching you excitedly as you answer. You can’t believe this is really happening. So much has occurred in so little time, and your lives are about to change even more with the new Hextech discoveries.

You get lost in Viktor’s eyes as Heimerdinger has you both repeat a few other things, then can’t help but laugh when he starts fumbling with some papers for both of you to sign. It’s quite funny, watching such a highly respected councilor struggle with something so seemingly simple as a wedding. You and Viktor sign the marriage license as he says, exchange the beautiful customized rings Jayce made, and Heimerdinger pronounces you officially married.

Viktor doesn’t waste a moment pulling you in by the waist and crashing his lips to yours, the intensity catching you off guard. He’s not one for PDA, but you suppose his own wedding is an exception. You drink him in happily, the mini audience cheering in the background.

The celebration continues for a while afterwards, your friends breaking out some champagne and Jayce insisting on dancing. You sit on Viktor’s lap, twirling his hair absentmindedly as you watch the party surrounding you. It’s simple, just like you wanted.

Viktor’s eyes are locked on your features, studying your face as if he hasn’t already memorized it a million times. He wants you in every way possible, forever and ever until his last breath. His mind, heart, and soul are mated with yours, intertwined so intricately now that you are an inseparable part of his being. Never had he imagined he would experience a love like this.

But there’s still one way he hasn’t yet expressed his love for you, out of respect for your fears and slower attractions. You’ve verbalized your sexual anxieties from having no prior experience, and your need to have a strong comfortability and bond with someone before even considering such acts. Viktor’s never had a problem with waiting, and has made it very clear to you that there is no pressure on his part. He’s been open with you about how he had a couple experiences as a teenager before he moved to Piltover, but would gladly never do it again if that’s what you wanted. He married you for you, not your body.

Still, he aches for your touch every second of every day. He savors every kiss pressed against his lips. He’s reveled in every way you’ve allowed him to caress you, and dreams about all the ways you haven’t yet. He wants to kiss every inch of skin he hasn’t seen. Everyday he wants to bury his face where your pants dig into your soft stomach, where your top is cut dangerously close to your breasts, where your thighs rub together. The dress you’re wearing today makes the arousal impossibly worse, the way it hugs and flows around the curves he so desperately wants etched into his brain forever. He has never desired anyone in the universe more than you, and he’d be willing to wait an eternity if it meant he would one day have you every way he’s been wanting.

You’ve told him you’ll likely be ready someday soon, so is it selfish of him to hope today might be the day?

“Vik?” you say, giggling as you wave a hand in front of his face. “Losing yourself in thought already?”

“I suppose so,” he smirks, giving you a quick kiss.

“Ready to go home?”

His eyebrow raises, looking back and forth between you and then your friends who have started some sort of weird drinking game with Jayce. The celebration isn’t quite winding down yet, but it’s common for the newlyweds to leave early, right?

Viktor gently slides you off his lap, grabbing his cane and standing up.

“I’d love to.”

***

-

He had forgotten about the decorations in his apartment bedroom when you both shuffle through the door, hearing you gasp and clap a hand to your mouth.

“Viktor...this is so beautiful.”

You pick up and drop a few of the flower petals, watching them flutter to the ground. Viktor grabs some matches and starts lighting the candles, and you flop down on the bed, rubbing your limbs against the soft blankets. You inhale the scents, a perfect level of ambiance filling the space.

“Vik?”

“Hmm?” he throws away the used matches, returning to your side.

“Do you want to try it?” you look up at him, nerves starting to take over you.

He kisses your forehead, wrapping a comforting arm around you.

“Only if you’re ready, darling. We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to.”

“No, no...I’m ready. I want to. I really want to. I’ve felt it for a while now. I just...I’m terrified.”

Your lip quivers slightly, and your eyes roll at yourself. Why are you about to cry on your wedding night? This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

Viktor pulls you into him close, rubbing your back, “Talk to me, my love.”

“It’s so stupid...You’ve been so patient with me, you’ve never pushed me to do anything, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve been disappointing you by making you wait so long. And you’ve actually done stuff before, so you know what you’re missing I guess. What if I’m not good at it? What if we try it and it’s awful or you hate my body—or you unintentionally compare me to other people? What if you regret marrying me? Or what if it really hurts-”

“Sweetheart.” Viktor stops you. “Look at me.”

You do as he asks, still trying to hold back tears after your anxious rambling.

“How long have all those horrible thoughts been in your head?”

“Um. A long time…” you look away again, but Viktor takes your chin and turns you back to his gaze.

“Not a single one of those things are true, do you understand?” he holds your face like precious glass. “You are everything to me. Whether we have sex or not.”

“Okay.” you nod, successfully swallowing back a cry. “I...I really do want to.”

“We’ll go slow, alright? And we can stop whenever you want.” he waits for you to nod again, then lies back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “But right now I just want you to kiss me.”

You smile, happily obliging. You straddle him, leaning down to capture his lips. He squeezes your thighs on either side of him, moaning when you deepen your kisses and run your hands down his chest. It’s so easy for him to lose himself in you, your touches overtaking his senses. He loves when you make out like this, your form pressed on top of him. He had to beg you to not hold back the first time it happened, insisting he likes your weight on him.

Viktor moves his fingers to twiddle with the hem of your dress, wanting so badly to pull it off of you. He’s never seen you fully naked, and he must admit it’s getting harder and harder to be patient when the outline of your figure looks so...majestic.

He guides your grip to his own shirt, helping you pull it off and sliding his fingers into your hair as you kiss down his neck and collarbone. To his surprise, you’ve always shown so much affection to his scrawny frame, never complaining about his sharp limbs when you cuddle or caress each other like this. He’s never understood any of your insecurities about your body, much preferring your soft and fluffy flesh over his own.

Once you’re satisfied with the amount of kisses you’ve pressed all over his torso, you cover his hands at the bottom of your dress with your own.

“You can take it off.” you tell him, taking a deep breath.

He does so, revealing nothing but your bra, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. Never has he ever wanted to see a pair of tits so badly.

It’s not difficult for you to read his mind, and before you can overthink it—you unhook it and throw it to the floor with the rest of your discarded garments.

Viktor doesn’t blush often, but you’ve never seen his cheeks get so red.

“Wow.” is all he can muster.

“You can touch them, if you want.” you chuckle at his reaction.

Permission is all he needed, his hands squeezing both of them, his thumbs brushing your nipples. A loud sigh escapes your lips, and Viktor decides right then and there that he will do anything to hear a glorious sound like that again.

Your body is a wonderfully pleasant array of textures for his hands to explore, from the raised skin of every stretch mark and scar to the dips and creases of your hips and waist. His touches roam across every inch of your exposed skin, cherishing the beauty he swears to never take for granted.

Your bare breasts press against his chest and he whines into your mouth, a pleasant tingling rushing through you at the noise. His lips then travel down your neck and shoulders, whispering “I love yous” between kisses, most coming out as mumbles against your flesh. Your replies follow suit, breathy and stringed with moans.

Somewhere in the process Viktor loses he pants, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear. You feel his arousal hardening, and your fingers eagerly pull at his waistband.

He stops you, grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, my love. I want to prepare you properly first.” he kisses your palm. “Let me get on top, okay?”

You nod, adjusting your positions. He places some pillows for your hips and his knees, then runs a couple fingers in one teasing stroke across your clothed entrance.

“Please,” you groan, already missing his touch when his fingers pull away. “Take them off already.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you, “I’m glad you’re excited, darling.”

He obliges your request and takes off your underwear, his fingers quickly returning to your now exposed entrance. He finds your clit, stimulating it with one finger and inserting another slowly.

“Let me know what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” he says, studying your expressions closely. Even before you say anything, he changes his movements based on your reactions to him.

“It...feels a little weird. But I like it.” you assure him. “Especially when you—“

The stimulation starts to build, and your gasps cut off your own thoughts.

“When you do that.” you finish your sentence, catching your breath as he slows down his fingers.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you orgasm your first time, love. But I’ll certainly try.” Viktor continues pulsing a finger in and out of you, rubbing feather-light circles on your clit.

“It’s okay if you don’t.” you hum. “I know it takes some concentration and practice.”

“It’s a learning process—are you ready for a second?”

You nod, and he slowly enters another finger. You’re still super tense from your nerves, but it’s getting easier to relax and let the arousal take over.

“Fuck.” you exhale. “Your fingers feel good.”

A smirks stretches across his lips, and his long digits push farther into you.

“But I want more.” you continue. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” he slips his fingers out, ghostly touches moving up your body. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so perfect.”

You giggle at his distraction, “Yes, Vik, I’m sure. Please.”

He could never say no to such eager eyes and pouting lips, so he slips off his boxers and readjusts himself above you.

“Holy shit, Vik.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No, just...is that really going to fit inside me?” your eyebrows raise and he laughs.

“You can take me, darling. We’ll go very slow, alright?”

You nod, and he lines himself up. He presses the tip in slowly, holding your hands as he goes further. You squeeze them tight, taking deep breaths until he stops halfway in.

“You’re doing so well, my love. How do you feel?”

“Mmm…” you sigh, trying to wrap your senses around the stretching and pressure you’re experiencing. It’s such an odd feeling, but it’s incredibly pleasurable.

“Are you ready for more?”

You nod, and he slowly pushes all the way in. He leans down to kiss you, giving you time to adjust to him. You dig your fingers into his back, closing the distance between your bodies, his cool skin sending shivers down your spine.

“I must admit,” he utters against your lips. “I will likely not last very long.”

Your foreheads press together and you giggle.

“I don’t care, Vik.”

He begins to thrust in and out gently, placing kisses and nibbles along your jaw. The sounds you make drive him crazy, making it extremely difficult for him to have any hope of holding back. The sensations are overwhelming for both of you, a symphony of moans and whines eliciting from your mouths.

You take his face in your hands, staring deep into his gorgeous golden eyes. You capture his lips once again, more passion brewing between you.

“I love you so much.” you say, breathless and full.

“I love you m—fuck, I’m—“ his orgasm washes over him, his movements losing their former smoothness. His cum floods your walls, his dick starting to soften as he pulls out. His nimble fingers return to your cunt, swirling in the juices and stimulating your clit once again.

“Vik, honey, it’s okay if I don’t finish…” your assurances fall on stubborn ears though, his touches quickly building back the pressure.

“Let me try.” he says, determined.

“Vik.” you sit up, legs still wide open around him. “We can try again tomorrow. I promise you’ve satisfied me for the night.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, admiring his flushed face and tousled hair.

“Did I make your first time special enough?” he asks, fiddling with your hands.

“Viktor, it was amazing. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

He smiles, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Shall we clean up, then?” he mumbles, pulling back to look at you.

“Perhaps.” you run a hand through his hair. “I did bring the soaps you always compliment the scent of…”

*** -

You use the bathroom and start a bath, filling it with the products you packed and Epsom salt. Viktor’s tub isn’t very big, but you both fit in it when he sits between your thighs. You wipe each other off and wash each other’s hair, occasionally placing kisses on wet skin.

“Can we move in the rest of your things tomorrow?” he asks.

“Probably.” you reply, rinsing the shampoo from his wavy locks. “You sure you’re ready to share your space?”

“Eh...it’s always been far too empty. I need some...flair.” he laughs.

“I can give you that.” you smile, already imagining all the ways you could decorate and bring life to the place.

After drying off and getting ready for bed, Viktor clears off the top blanket then slips under the covers with you, your limbs immediately encircling one another. He massages your back and shoulders, cuddling you close. His arms feel like home, a warmth in your heart spreading throughout your body.

“I love you so much, Viktor.” you say, looking into his eyes. “And not because of what you do for me or how you make me feel…I love you just because you’re you.”

Your fingers trace his jawline, then slither into his hair.

“I’m so lucky.”

His gaze becomes even softer, at a loss for words from the purity of your love. Nothing in any language could properly describe his own sentiments.

“I can’t wait to love you for the rest of my life.” he peppers kisses across your face, living for the way your nose scrunches. “Every.” —another kiss— “Day.”

You giggle, snuggling impossibly closer. He loves feeling your every breath, every twitch, every tiny movement.

He sighs, closing his eyes and silently thanking Janna for whatever winds brought him to you.

[johnbrand]

Prodigal Son

To read the first part, follow this link.

With @sjw-publishings

Alexander Carmen nervously followed the kind pastor through the back of the church. He did not feel unwelcome by any means, but certainly like he did not belong here. It was improper for someone like him to be able to see the inner workings of a church–as a gay man who enjoyed the worldly spoils, Alexander was practically stepping into enemy territory. But he dutifully kept speed with the Korean-American man just a few years his senior. 

The pastor had a run-of-the-mill, slightly older guy-next-door look that Alexander typically would have on the street passed by without giving a second thought. But his average qualities also had a certain flair, enough so that Alexander could see himself sporting a slight boner. And he had, their initial physical touch having sent a current from his shoulder straight down to his crotch. Luckily, his dick had since deflated from its excitement, the blood flow in his moving legs helping resolve the unfortunate issue.

“Please, brother,” Pastor Bang opened the door to a small office. “Take a seat in front of my desk and we can discuss your worries.”

Placing his firm grip on Alexander’s shoulder once more, the twink again felt the shiver of ecstasy course along his vein. He did his best to hide the boner awakening underneath his linen shorts.

Following the instruction politely, Alexander placed himself in the assigned chair. Typically, he acted out as quite the brat, one who liked to mess around and avoid orders as playfully as could be. He was one to tease, coyly flirt, and craft up anything necessary that could be complimented with a reaction. As a trouper, Alexander was a natural theatric, and in turn the world was his stage. Everyone had a part to play in relation to his flamboyant protagonist.

“I’m here searching for someone,” Alexander began, his plea whiny. “I just don’t know where he is and it’s freaking me out! I mean we were supposed to meet up thirty minutes ago, and I know that isn’t too long but then when I saw that he was here I got confused because I’d never heard of him being religious before. In fact, I’ve never even heard of this church before. I mean is the Covenant of the Brotherhood new? Anyway…”

Alexander continued to ramble on, taking in the room around him as he did so. The office was small, quaint, and only really held the necessary materials. A bookshelf containing theological literature, a single monitor at least ten years old, two degrees and a number of other certificates on the wall behind the pastor. The room was practically colorless, even the sole picture of Pastor Bang and (whom Alexander assumed to be) his girlfriend was printed in black and white. Eventually, Alexander realized he was still talking, and the pastor had not yet replied to him.

“Are you, are you going to say anything?” Alexander cut himself off, toying with his rainbow wristband. He was a bit dismayed that the other man had not yet made a response. 

Pastor Bang shrugged, indifferent. “Sounds like you are worried, brother.”

Alexander blinked. He tried to hold back the burst of red that threatened to color his olive cheeks. “Did you listen to a single thing I said?” Alexander thrived off of reactions, he practically centered his life around them. It influenced how he acted, influenced the manner in which he presented himself. It was why his voice held its signature nasally pitch, why he had dyed his hair platinum blond.

And yet, Pastor Bang offered him nothing. “Clarify for me, what are you so worried about?”

“I’m looking for John Brand,” Alexander spat loudly, as if he and the pastor spoke different languages.

“No need to waste your vocal chords unnecessarily.” The command was simple and direct, silencing Alexander. He was not used to being treated this way, engaging in such a manner. And yet, something about the simple anomaly roused Alexander. It also a-roused his dick, which throbbed lightly.

“I’m an actor,” Alexander seethed. “I know how to properly dictate.”

The pastor cocked his head innocently, “I believe you’re mistaken?”

This caught Alexander a bit, leaving his reply a bit staggered. “I have a theatre degree…?”

“It’s a diploma in Bible Studies, brother,” the pastor corrected. “And you haven’t graduated yet.”

“I um…” Alexander stuttered, suddenly bewildered. Was he not only a few years younger than the pastor? He was not still in school; he had graduated, had he not? But then again, why would Pastor Bang lead him astray? The man was eight years older than him, by that math eight years wiser.

“Oh yeah…my bad haha!” Alexander awkwardly chuckled, subtly palming himself under the table. For some reason, the strange moment had only further excited him. “But please, have you seen my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend?” Pastor Bang's response was steady, as if the concept was impossible to him. “Do you mean your brother in the Covenant?”

Alexander's cock twitched. “Mmmyes daddy…” He moaned under his breath before suddenly catching himself. “-I mean my boyfriend! We are gay, pastor, we are both gay!”

“Brother, I know you’re happy to see me,” Pastor Bang misunderstood. “But now is not the time to use such language and act like the Prodigal Son.”

Alexander did not know how to reply without repeating his sexuality. But the words could not leave his mouth, it was too hard. His dick was too hard. Alexander could feel it writhing within his jockstrap.

“I believe you are worried about other things,” the pastor continued. “You already have a lot on your plate outside of our church. Admittedly the typical of every other Asian-American boy your age: the straight A GPA, jogging sessions, intramural soccer. But presenting for the Youth Ministry should be your passion.”

The sudden intake of information overwhelmed Alexander. The foreign existential weight piled up, burdening him under its sheer power. These new facts barged in upon the young man without any warning, forcing an evacuation of sorts within Alexander's mind. It made him dizzy. Alexander suddenly felt the need to escape.

“Uhhh, Pastor Bang, thanks for your guidance!” Alexander sputtered out, his blood coursing south as if his heart had suddenly moved to his pouch. “I have to uhh…go to the restroom, duty calls!”

“That’s alright, brother,” Pastor Bang extended his hand. “I need to practice for my upcoming sermon anyway.”

Quickly, Alexander accepted the firm shake. An electric surge shot across his entire body, delivering bliss to every one of his nerves and dulling his wristband into a modern, ordinary watch. Alexander's manhood was calling for him, begging to be touched with the hand he had just offered to Pastor Bang. Without waiting a moment longer, he made a beeline to the restroom, not questioning how he knew the way. Within moments Alexander was locked into a stall, so hot and flustered that he considered removing his tee shirt.

“Can’t resist…so good,” Alexander grunted softly. Carefully, Alexander gripped himself, the immense pleasure nearly paralyzing him. “Pastor Bang is…mmmmf…”

As if having heard his name, the shepherding tone of the pastor began to broadcast into the restroom. Pastor Bang, having returned to the altar in the main hall, had begun practicing his sermon. And with the speaker system live, his words were able to echo clearly throughout the entire church.

Alexander groaned as the paternal voice rang out within the restroom. His manhood was sandwiched between his legs, begging for release and yet not being granted it. Something was holding Alexander back, but he could not understand what. It was as if the appendages were built for other purposes, their length and lean muscle holding other obligations. His legs were meant for a goalkeeper–on the field and in real life. And the two extra inches of height that pushed Alexander over the average signified that he was meant to set an example without standing apart from his fellow brother.

“I need to…need to pull up something,” Alexander said to himself, grabbing his phone. In seconds, he had clicked on a bookmark for one of his favorite porn videos. But instead of two men wrapped together, his phone presented him with two men standing apart, fully clothed. Speaking on the roles of masculinity as determined in the Bible.

“Didn’t I have some-” Alexander could no longer identify what he had been trying to find. “-fun videos or something?”

“Brothers are expected to help one another physically and emotionally, but not romantically,” Pastor Bang’s voice suddenly filled the room. Alexander grunted, his vocal tone dropping a touch and sneaking farther back into his throat. His fingers messily tapped away at his device, lengthening into more robust digits as they searched for other materials to work with. His documents tab was filled with highly-graded papers, his emails a mix of project assignments and group collaborations.

“Don’t I have photos I could use, man?” Alexander asked himself, his voice now holding a youthful maturity that mimicked the pastor’s. He desperately continued to scroll through his phone, his arms tensing and relaxing as their muscles expanded slightly. Not to an egregious amount, but just enough to fit in with his peers, just like his clean-cut, trusty phone did.

“Man, who are these people?” Alexander blinked, his gallery filled with many of the same individuals. He was not expecting most of the pictures to be of him out on the soccer field, around a college campus, and at Youth Ministry. Nor was he expecting them to be filled with the same Asian-American men, all practical copies of each other besides the slightest differences. It took Alexander a moment to even find himself in some of them. His own lemony skin had the same hue as the rest of the men, his smaller eyes identical to the crew's. Even their frames were alike, not a single chest broader or pack of abdominals more prominent. 

“Can’t believe I forgot about my guys, man!” Alexander chuckle was friendly. “No homo though!”

The last phrase blurted out on its own, but Alexander was too captivated in his screen to realize it. His manhood enjoyed the remark however, perking up to be just large enough to fulfill its new role. Or rather, its traditional role. Consequently, Alexander’s bubble butt deflated into two flattened mounds, their responsibilities stripped away.

Eventually, Alexander landed on an album filled with selfies of him and another person. A lady friend of his own age, who with her Asian-American beauty complimented him nicely.

“Man, who is she…?” Alexander rubbed the back of his head shyly, the raven, feathered curtain bangs tickling his fingers. “She’s…kinda cute mannn…”

With that realization, Alexander’s manhood trembled in great force. He instinctively knew what to do, but as his hand made its way down to the straight-fit joggers encasing his legs, Alexander found himself lost. He needed to do something, but Alexander could not recall what. He could remember his younger peers had mentioned something before that required his hands. Was it assisting in some kind of job? Or something about being “a jerk off”?

“I gotta grip my pen…pen…!” Alexander suffered to get the word out of his mouth. It was right on the tip of his tongue.

“And us men shall be abstinent until the day of marriage with our wives.” Pastor Bang announced as he concluded his sermon.

“...gotta grip my pen-dant!” Alexander exclaimed. With one hand on his quarter-zip, he shoved the other underneath the sweater and pulled out his cross pendant, holding it firmly. With his free hand, and in pure euphoria, Alexander moved his zipper back and forth along its tread. Up and down, up and down. He could feel himself getting close, approaching something incredible. His manhood was throbbing as he approached a breaking point.

Out of nowhere, a knock came onto the stall door. “Everything okay, brother?” Pastor Bang asked.

“Mmmmf yes...Father!” A rush of spiritual ecstasy cascaded over the young man, for no physical outburst was necessary to solidify his glorious transformation. Once the wave had dissipated, the young man stood up and opened the stall door. 

“Sorry Pastor Bang,” the handsome, yet rather standard young Chinese-American man began.

“All good, brother,” Pastor Bang smiled. “I was just checking in to see if you were still worried about the presentation?”

“I was just texting my girlfriend to see if she could make it." The young man approached the sinks, checking himself out momentarily in the mirror. Carefully, he pulled his zipper up to the top of its track. After all, he had to maintain the role of a cool big brother; he did not want to be scandalous in front of the students. "It will be my fiftieth presentation for the Youth Ministries!”

Proudly, the young man left the restroom and ventured forth to his classroom. Once inside, he was greeted by his many students–a group of rowdy Asian-American boys–and Anna, his beautiful girlfriend since high school, sitting behind the teacher's desk.

“Ay-Ay Ron!” one of the backsliders shouted, and soon the whole class joined in a boisterous chorus. The young man smiled and exchanged a look with his girlfriend, knowing his Anna was not fond of the silly nickname.

“About time you got here, Aaron,” Anna greeted him with a peck on the cheek. “Leaving me all alone for so long with these guys is quite the hassle.”

“Ooommf…haha sorry sweetheart.” Aaron cheekily rubbed the back of his neck, squeezing his inflated manhood between his thighs. “Cannot help myself from being a goofball every now and then–just like my students!”

Aaron’s manly, yet cute chuckle was the kind that made everyone want to be just like him. A typical college student, one with the crowd, blending in with his brothers and talking about the simple things that excited them. Without delaying any longer, Aaron booted up his monitor and the projector, his presentation soon lighting up on the wall behind him.

“As you all know, my name is Aaron Chang,” Aaron started. “And for my fiftieth presentation, I'll be discussing: ‘Aaron Chang-ing Lives; For the Better, For the Hetter’!”

[circinuus]

is there still anything that love can do?

old man yingxing x short-lived species!reader. 0.7k words

what it's like loving him.

[unedited, implied age gap, I just need an excuse to write yingxing 🙏 happy holidays everyone!]

yingxing has always been a practical man.

a mortal among immortals. a short-lived among those cursed and blessed by the abundance's long years. time has always loomed over him. too little time, too many to achieve.

“don’t be ridiculous, such things are only distractions, and I am far too old for this kind of sentiments,” he had once said said. and you, you are young, younger than him. another short-lived species you are, he understands the weight of your limited time, too. and he wouldn’t want you to waste it with him, out of everyone.

unfortunately for him, fortunately for him, you have always been a persistent little thing. with sincerity and determination, even metal and stone can be pierced ¹. the qin and se play in harmony. ²

“now, isn’t this nice? your crafts aren’t running anywhere, yingxing.”

in one of luofu’s autumn, warm and convenient enough in its artificial nature, yingxing sighs under a moment of your persuaded repose.

you came in like a silent breeze, placid voice beckoning him for a moment’s rest. and now he is propped on your lap, leaves flying about outside the window of his forge. gentle hands, running through his silvering hair, massaging taut brows and throbbing scalp.

“they are graying, are they not?” he sighs, in contentment and a dread he refuses to understand.

but like always, you peer at him and give him a smile that hides the moon and shame the flowers. ³

“they’re beautiful.”

yingxing forgets the dread of time, for a while.

alas, for man, the courage is only as much.

yingxing is capable and competent. but even he notices how fatigue reaches him sooner as opposed to years past. how metals and forge are rigid, but skin and bones are fragile against time.

at these moments, you force his gaze to you. holding his cheeks, trail gentle kisses to his brow, to the slopes of his fine, aging lines.

“what is my dear thinking about?”

“it is nothing to be worried about.”

your eyes signals a knowing gaze (you’ve always known him like the back of your hand. yingxing never understands, nevertheless). without preceding words, you reach up to return with another, slightly impish kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“you’re beautiful,” a word you always say, now a hair’s breadth against his mouth. “you surely do not think your 'thoughts not to be concerned about' will be enough to take you away from me, a-xing?"

yingxing’s words are raspy against your lips, “you are going to be the death of me.”

“then I will go with you,” your eyes crinkle, “and would never leave you alone.”

strong hand snakes around your waist, pulling you to his warmth. yingxing’s lips are soft against yours.

yingxing forgets the dread of time, ever since.

time passes, and artificial as it is, the weather still follows in suit. so does the luofu, it’s people. but some things repeat history even after he had faced the brunt of time.

yingxing had once again nicked his palm with one of his crafts. and you, still a loyal lover who visits his forge and far too many encounters with his errors.

he keeps silent while you clean his cut and wrap his hand with another batch of clean bandages. “you don’t have to do this.” he says.

a rueful smile, “i know.” then, after a brief, silence, “but you are dear to me. when you are hurt, i am too.”

familiar, gentle fingers trace his palm. his old scars, the callused fingertips and knuckles, the veins that litter his hand. yingxing stays silent, once more. stealing a single breath from the world.

you are far too gentle, too fragile. and he is a rough, old thing. and yet...

“yingxing?”

“i love you.”

he finally finds your eyes, something rueful in his thin smile. before you so much spout another word, yingxing takes over with a cradle to your own hand, presses a kiss to your delicate palm, then presses it beside his cheek, his bigger hand, freshly bandaged, closing yours.

“i love you,” he says again. and yingxing would have spoken something sweet, something eloquent. but yingxing, after these years, is still a simple, practical man.

you smile, the same kind that eclipses the moon.

“i love you too, yingxing.”

he holds you like you are his lifeline. yingxing has regretted a lot of things, but one of his biggest was thoughts of how this— how he thought you were too grand for his short years.

for man, the courage is only as much. but with love, what is not unconquered?

[1] with sincerity and determination, even metal and stone can be pierced

-> 精诚所至，金石为开 = idiom. absolute sincerity can affect even metal and stone - no difficulty is insurmountable if one sets his/her mind on it) [source]

[2] the qin and se play in harmony

-> Qin and se (musical instruments) appear many times in China’s earliest collection of poetry dating from the 11th to 7th centuries BCE, Shijing [Book of Songs], as a symbol of romance and happy marriage. [source]

[3] hiding the moon and shaming the flowers

-> 闭月羞花 = fig. beauty exceeding even that of the natural world. [source] he's down bad for you ok.

[bigification]

New Years Resolutions

"Hey bud! I'm glad you could make it back home for the holidays. We haven't been able to see you much since you graduated college." Your dad says as he walks out of his garage to greet you.

His white tang top is stained with grease and sweat from working on his vintage car all day. His stench gets stronger as he gets closer, giving you a slightly disgusting reminder of your life before graduating. He smiles and pulls you in for a firm bear hug. Even though you were never the type to get your hands dirty, much to your father's dismay, you choose to hug the sweaty man back regardless.

"Wanna help me with the car?" He asks.

You go all red, not knowing how to say no.

"I'm just pulling your chain buddy!" He laughs loudly enough for the neighbors to hear as he slaps you on the shoulder.

You nervously chuckle before making your way to the front door.

"Oh, by the way. We've started a yearly tradition since you left. Every new years, we think of three things we want to change for the next year and write it down. Then we read em out the next year to see if we actually did anything." He calls out as you're walking away.

You just turn back and nod before continuing towards the front door. It seems like a surprisingly fun tradition, something you didn't think your dad was capable of.

You say hi to the rest of your family before running up to your old room. You pull out a piece of paper and pen, and get to thinking. What do you want to change over the next year. You're pretty happy with everything in your life right now, you've got a good job and a great husband. What more could you ask for. It makes you think of your dad, your relationship isn't bad by any means, but you wish he was more understanding and he wishes you were more handy. That's it, if you were more handy maybe it could bridge that gap between the two of you.

"Being more handy." You quickly write on the small piece of paper.

Almost instantly upon writing those words, something changes. You look down and see that the pen is no longer in your hand, there's a hammer. Your small delicate hand holding the massive hammer seems out of place, but it isn't for long. Each of your fingers grows and thickens as your hand becomes large and calloused, now wide enough to cover the entire grip of the hammer. The other hand quickly follows suit, now holding onto a plank of wood instead of the piece of paper you were holding moments ago.

Your forearms bulge with muscle as tattoos cover your skin. The sleeves of your loose fitting shirt tighten against your growing biceps. Your shoulders broaden and flat chest springs to life, becoming two solid pecs, further tightening your shirt. Your waist slims into a tight six pack, giving your upper body a jock like V shape to it. This is further accentuated by the way your shirt is tucked into shorts, I mean your jeans, with a thick leather belt. Fat floods into your ass, creating a shelf on your backside as a thick bulge forms in the front of your jeans. Though the bulge is covered by your new utility belt, handy for keeping all your tools.

Your thighs explode with muscle and fat, making your jeans look like stuffed sausages. And your small running shoes become massive steel toed boots as your feet grow 5 sizes.

You've nearly achieved your goal of becoming handy, but a handy man wouldn't have a feminine face like that. Your jaw suddenly widens, your nose grows larger, and your brow bone becomes more prominent. Your long curls shrink into a sharp buzz cut as your hairline begins to recede, but it's quickly covered by a ball cap. Thick stubble forms above your lip and on your chin as a five o'clock shadow spreads through the rest of your beard. The hair spreads down your smooth body, covering your chest, stomach, arms, and legs.

You finally take a moment to look at your surroundings, now in the backyard of your parents home working on their deck. Your dad raised you to be a good handy man so you could help him with his projects.

You get back to work, but soon remember your resolutions. You're supposed to write three dumbass, not just one. Some thick skilled moments like these make you regret dropping out of high school to work at the auto shop with your dad, but the regrets don't tend to last. You'd much rather be handy than smart. Back to the resolutions, you pull out the paper from your back pocket and place it on the plank of wood. Think... What do you want. You have everything you need, an honest job with your pops and a good man waiting for you back home. You suddenly think of your dad, you really look up to him and he's got massive muscles. You're no weak nerd by any means, but your dad is on a whole other level compared to you.

"I want to go to the gym more often." You write on the piece of paper.

You put the paper away and go to grab your hammer, but in its place is a weight. Why is there weight in the backyard? Theres no time for you to think about it, however, because your hands begins to change once again. They thicken to twice their original size, becoming large enough to grab even the largest of weights with just one hand. Your forearms grow to the size of your biceps and your biceps grow to the size of watermelons, with defined muscles and thick veins.

Each part of your body systematically swells to the size of a body builder, quickly ripping through your tiny clothes. Your chest grows two thick slabs of meat hanging above your eight pack and your back becomes a series of ripples formed by your muscles.

Your thighs grow so thick that they constantly rub together when you walk, leaving little room for your bull like testicles and pop can thick cock. The immense amount of testosterone pumping through your veins makes you horny all the time, leaving an ever present stain on the front of your pants. It also makes your beard grow fast enough that you constantly have a thick bushy beard, and it makes it so you're barely holding on to the hairs on your head. Good thing you have more than enough hair elsewhere to compensate.

You take a deep breath as you hang the weight back on the machine. Wait... what machine. You look around to see a plethora of workout machines in the basement of your parents home that you converted into a home gym.

You reach for a heavier weight when you remember the new years resolutions. How many did you write again? You count with your fingers that you have written down two resolutions, that's one less than you needed to. What should be your last resolution. You already have everything you need, you've got bigger muscles than your dad, bigger muscles than your scrawny husband, and you live at your pops house. What more could you want. Well you're not bigger than everyone...

"I want to be bigger." You scribble onto the small paper.

You need to be careful with your words when you're making new years resolutions, or you just might become a completely different person. You know this all too well, yet never learn from your mistakes.

You reach for a dumbbell, but are surprised by how light it is. You must just be getting so strong that your weights feel like nothing. But when you look over, you're shocked to see a cold glass of beer in your hand. You stopped drinking a while ago because it turns you into a fat ass like your drunk of an uncle, and your body only needs pure muscle. Though, something about this glass of beer is calling to you. Just one couldn't hurt, besides, you could just call it a bulk.

You take a sip of the ice cold beer. It tickles as it passes through your thick facial hair, and smoothly glides down your throat. It was the best thing you've ever tasted. You take another sip, feeling it fill your stomach, you want more. You chug, but the glass never seems to be empty. You instinctively reach to rub your stomach, feeling the ridges along your abs. Wait. Where are the ridges. You rub your hand back and forth across your stomach and it's... Soft. You look down in horror to see a small round belly covering your eight pack. But you're not strong enough to stop yourself from drinking. You take another sip and grunt as your gut trusts outward, making you look pregnant. Impossible to hide, even with the loosest of clothes. You take another sip and grunt as your gut thrust outward once again, jiggling as it settles into place. It's now undeniable, it's the first thing someone will notice when seeing you. But you need one last sip, this time with a deep moan as your gut explodes outwards, sagging under its own weight. You are now what people think of when they think of obesity.

That's not all, not all the fat goes just to your gut. Some of it has covered the muscles around your body. Your solid pecs have melted into a pair of soft man tits that press against every shirt you wear. Your thin waist is now replaced by thick love handles that burst out of your clothes. Your muscly arms and legs look deceptively small and soft under a thick layer of pudge. Your hands and feet are swollen, stuffed with fat, leaving you with massive man hands perfect for gripping a glass of beer. And your dick has been engulfed in a thick fat pad, but it's not like you can reach it on your own.

And if that wasn't enough for you, any hair you have left has fallen out, leaving you with a shiny bald head. Also your beard has begun to go grey and your skin is starting to wrinkle. It looks like you became big in more than one way.

You kick back in your soft recliner with your beer and turn on the football game, relaxing in your newly renovated basement where you watch the game everyday. It's not like you used the gym anyway.