#worry about yOU not knowing what the weather outside is-

[scribbly-artist]

Warm You, Melt You

Summary: Jayce insisted that he and Viktor should brave the cold and work at the laboratory at the academy today. However, an unexpected snowstorm had them running home. Viktor was a bit grumpy about slipping over on the slick ground and was absolutely freezing, so Jayce wants to make it up to him and warm him back up, one way or another.

Author’s Notes: This was a long one stewing in the pot. I’ve been building it up piece by piece until this morning. The server has convinced me to post it earlier rather than later tonight, so here’s a little treat for everyone. >:)

Words: ~1,550 | AO3 Link

The door to the apartment flew wide open with the assistance of the strong wind the snowstorm had brought. Two men came tumbling through the open doorway, covered in snow, slamming the door closed upon entry. 

They were covered in snow. Jayce and Viktor both had to go out today to the academy to do some work, which was clearly a mistake. They should have just written some notes and ideas down in the comfort of their toasty apartment instead of braving the wild weather outside. But, Jayce had insisted.

Jayce brushed off some of the lingering snow on his shoulders. “I know what you’re gonna say—”

“I told you so.” Viktor responded smugly.

“I know, I know,” Jayce replied with a sigh. “I didn’t think the storm would get that bad, though.”

“Mhmmm.” Viktor was brushing off the cold snow off of his clothes with a frown. The snow on his head was already starting to melt, dampening his brown hair.

Jayce let out a chuckle, patting Viktor on top of his head. “You’re looking like a sad, wet puppy right now.”

Viktor scowled at that, shivering. “This sad, wet puppy just wants to get warm. The cold, it just goes straight through me. That’s why I try to not go out in that weather, I’m not as crazy as you are.”

Jayce’s eyebrows raised at that, not taking Viktor’s bait of attempting to get a rise out of him. He let out a sigh, those emotions clearing as he brain stormed a way to warm each other up.

“Don't worry, I've got an idea.”

And Jayce did. He passed Viktor a towel so he could dry his hair (Jayce offered to assist him but Viktor did it himself), they both stripped down so they weren't in their bulky outside clothes, but in their cozy inside clothes. Jayce lended Viktor a hand to remove his brace on his leg and his torso so he would be more comfortable. Then they got all snuggled up in their shared bed, Jayce being the little spoon, of course. 

“You’re like a human hot water bottle.” Commented Viktor from behind Jayce, making the other chuckle. 

“I've always ran on the warmer side.”

They were basking in each other's silence for a while. Viktor eventually stopped shivering from the cold, and instead wanted to get into a bit of mischief as payback for Jayce’s insistence of even suggesting stepping foot outside the apartment today. While his core was quite toasty, his hands were still a little cold. Viktor’s chilly hands travelled, finding their way under Jayce’s shirt and planted themselves on his stomach. Ahh, his skin felt nice and warm on his palms. 

Jayce involuntarily let out a full body shiver from the difference in temperature. 

“Woah, your hands are still that cold?”

“Mhm… you can help me warm them up.”

And with that, Viktor’s fingers started moving. He started tracing patterns into Jayce’s belly. Soft and gentle, enough to make the other jitter with giggles. 

“Vihihiktor, it tihihickles!���

Viktor planted his chin on Jayce’s shoulder, giving his neck a little smooch which only made the other only giggle and scrunch up. “How will the full surface of my hands warm up properly if they’re still?”

“Juhuhust leheheave them in thehehe one spohohot!” 

It wasn't tickly enough that Jayce was trying to pull away (not that he ever did — and Viktor noticed this), but enough to get him giggling, his nose scrunching up and his eyes crinkling close. 

Viktor let out a content hum. “But that wouldn't be fun. Would you deny a man his little bit of joy?” He did slow down his tracing just enough so that Jayce could actually think straight. 

Jayce thought for a moment, only giggling more until he responded, “I guehehess I can beahahar it for yohohou…”

And it stayed that way, at least for a while. Viktor mindlessly traced patterns into every inch of skin his cold fingertips could reach — until they felt nice and warm. Jayce appreciated that now they weren't icicles touching his poor bare skin, no longer making him shake and shiver. While Viktor loved hearing Jayce’s sweet giggles, his ears and his mischievous side also wanted to hear him laugh without a care in the world. 

Viktor started to squeeze at the little bit of tummy fat that he had discovered last time he tickled Jayce. It was a tiny bit of chub Jayce couldn't get rid of no matter how much he exercised. 

And Viktor learnt that spot in particular was very ticklish. 

Jayce flinched, then let out a laugh. “Vihihik! I was getting– USED to the trahahacing!” He exclaimed, his voice raising once Viktor squeezed that niiiice spot yet again. 

“Need to keep you on your toes, Talis.”

With that statement, another idea to bug Jayce came into Viktor’s mind. While his hands were nice and warm, his feet were still as cold as a block of ice. 

Jayce had no time to react to the blankets shifting as Viktor shuffled himself to raise his good leg up, planting an icy cold foot against Jayce’s bare back with an amused chuckle. 

The only way to describe the noise that came out of Jayce’s mouth was akin to a prey’s screech from being hunted by a predator. 

This made Viktor laugh, but he would be laughing from a different cause in only a few moments. 

Jayce spun himself around in the bundle of blankets, grabbing Viktor’s cold ankle in a headlock, scribbling fingers touching down on his sole as revenge. 

Viktor screeched just as loud as Jayce did seconds before. Maybe even louder. 

“Hey, I think I know how to warm your feet up.”

“JAYAHACE– NOHOT THIHIS!”

“I think some tickling would warm them up plenty. I have you keep you on your toes, too. Don’t you agree?” With that, his dexterous fingers travelled up to his mentioned toes, tormenting the spot underneath their scrunching up that they were trying so hard to protect. 

This drove Viktor wild. 

“NOHOHO!! B-BACK TOHOHO CUDDLES– BACK TO CUHUHUDDLES!” He attempted many times to tug his foot out of Jayce’s hold with no avail. Viktor was just much too sensitive on his feet. 

Jayce let up after a few more moments, giving his poor foot a couple more traces on his arch for good measure, releasing his ankle from his grip. “Seems like someone can’t take what they dish out.”

Viktor rolled over the other way in mock annoyance, letting out a dramatic huff. However, the smile glued to his face betrayed his actions. 

Jayce snuck his way over to his partner’s side of the bed, his arms snaking around to spoon him. “Back to cuddles, like you said.”

“Hmph, after you already tortured me.”

“Hey, you did the exact same to me earlier.”

“While yes, I did, you deserved it.”

“What? How come?”

“For making me bear that snowstorm outside. I even slipped over on my ass from how slick the ground was.”

Jayce let out a laugh, and from the contagious sound, Viktor did as well. There was a comfortable silence for a moment, their breath syncing.

Jayce plopped his head down against Viktor’s bare shoulder, his lips ghosting his skin, the other letting out a shiver. Jayce planted a soft kiss on a mole he could see. “I think I can make it up to you.”

Viktor could feel his cheeks starting to burn, but kept up the charade. “Hmph… such bold confidence; you sure about that?”

“Oh, I know I can.”

He put his plan into action. Jayce began tenderly kissing whatever moles he could spot on Viktor’s back and shoulder. This led him up a trail to Viktor’s neck and jaw, kissing a few that were in abundance on the side of his neck. His partner let out a shiver and a huff at the affection. Not only did his cheeks burn a fiery red, but Jayce could see how pink his ears had gotten as well from his service. 

Snuggling his face into Viktor’s hair, Jayce spoke up. “So, how’d I do?”

“Mmm, could be better.” He was playing it up, of course. He enjoyed pushing the other’s buttons.

“Don’t lie to me, your ears say it all.” Jayce reached up and gently traced his finger against the edge of Viktor’s ear, getting a giggle and a scrunched up shoulder from the other.

“Alrihihight, alright. You did well, Jayce. But don’t let it go to your head.”

Oh, it already did. 

“Want some more?” 

Was that even a question? Of course.

“If you would be oh so inclined.” Viktor replied, the grin could be heard in his voice.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Jayce continued his kissing journey — whatever skin on Viktor’s face he could reach, down his shoulders and back again, even a bit against his side and stomach. His moles and freckles were his guide on his devoted act of service. And Viktor was loving every moment of it, and he told Jayce as such.

This continued on from the afternoon, evening till night until they were both very, very warm.

[emmyrosee]

I heard you were looking for requests 👀

*ahem* I will take anything kirishima fluff related that you are willing to offer. I am such a sucker for him??? I would like him to smother me with his love and affection and I would like to smother him with mine in return. k thanks I’ll see myself out now-

(that is, if you write for him!! If not I will happily take more hawks or bakugou, you write them PERFECTLY)

K-KIRISHIMA??? T H E LOML???? THE ONE AND ONLY???

I WILL COMBUST RN SAY SIKE-

-

“Eiji, you promised me you’d be up before I got back.”

It wasn’t a promise per se, but it still was completely unnatural for Kirishima to be still in a state of sleepiness so late in the morning.

9 times out of 10, he’s up and at the gym for a few hours, showers, cooks you both breakfast all before waking you up; but today, he seems like he could sleep forever if you let him.

And you would’ve! But it’s his first day with you and you alone in months, and you didn’t want to spend it all in bed.

“I am up,” he murmurs from the half of his face not burrowed into a pillow.

“You’re not,” you assure. Crawling into bed, you straddle the hip that’s free from the mattress, the height difference making you squeak softly. “I meant you’d be up. Like, up, vertical.”

“Well you should’ve been more specific,” he teases. A strong arm reaches up to wrap around your waist, almost as if to keep you steady from potentially falling from your perch on his hip. 

You pout your lower lip out and shove his shoulder gently, “come on, Eiji,” you whine, watching as a bright red eye, still bleary with sleep, opens to peer up at you. “Don’t you want to spend the day with me? I even got you one of those breakfast sandwiches you like!”

“Of course I do,” he yawns, finally rolling on his back. He shifts you to remain in your straddle, thumbs easing over the softness of your hips. “But surely we could wait five more minutes.”

You cross your arms and look at him, unamused (or as unamused as you could look with him, which is not very) and you sigh, “since when do you like to sleep in?”

“Since I’m able to,” he gives you a cheeky smirk before folding his arms up behind his head, resting under the pillow as he closes his eyes. “Give me a few more minutes, babe. Then I’m yours.”

You click your tongue in annoyance before letting his body lax out, his breathing starting to fall more rhythmic with each gentle pass through his nose, and you hate how stunning he looks at ease, golden light of sun rays hitting his tanned skin.

…what kind of menace would you be if you let him sleep peacefully?

Shuffling softly, you reach up a loving hand to card the locks of red hair rom his forehead, smiling as he nuzzled into the touch.

Planting a soft kiss to his nose, you watch as he smiles sleepily, nudging his nose softly.

Then, you leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and he lets his lips pucker out gently, and you give him a proper kiss. Your hands gently smooth over his biceps, and he lets out a relaxed hum.

“What’re you planning?”

“Nothing,” you say softly. “Just like lookin’ at you.”

He smiles dopily and as silence once again fills the room, your nails dragging over the dips in his muscles. He jerks at the tickly feeling over his arms, and he growls out a playful “do not,” through his teeth.

“Your breath stinks,” you tease, before your hands pin his arms down, and you lean down to peck tiny kisses over his face. His lip quivers slightly, and as you start to make more noisy kisses, he lets out the smallest little snickers.

Settling down on top of him, your kisses trail over his cheeks and suddenly, your hands shoot under his underarms, and he shrieks in agony, “you’re so mean!”

“And you’re just so cute!” You croon, nuzzling into his cheeks while you tickle him gently. His back arches to try and knock you off, titters and giggles bubbling into the morning air. “You like to think you’re this big, bad, tough guy, and you’re just the softest, sweetest-“

“Shut up!” He shakes his head back and forth to cope with the sensations and your affectionate teasing, snorting softly through his nose and clamping his elbows to his sides. “Go away!”

“Are we gonna get up and eat the breakfast I got for us, or am I going to tickle you for the next several hours,” you tease. “Your decision.”

Your fingers don’t actually move, his arms are too tight to his body, but just the feeling of your fingers being there seems to be enough to keep him in stitches.

“F-Fine! I’m up! I’m up, leave me alone!”

“That’s what I thought,” you purr happily, planting little kisses over his jawline for compensation. “We’ll take a nap later, because I love you so much.”

He rolls his eyes, and upon locking eyes with you, he pins you with his now free arms, keeping you to his torso. Despite your struggling, he pants out a puff of his nasty morning breath in your face, smirking as you whine out at his obnoxious playfulness.

“Feral!” You scream, writhing hard against him.

“You started it, you snot rocket.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[dollfacefantasy]

SNOW ON THE GLASS ♡

pairing: dilf!leon kennedy x fem!reader x milf!ada wong

summary: you love your job as the kennedys nanny. it's fairly easy and pays great. plus you may have a tiny crush on your bosses. but as it turns out, they may reciprocate that feeling more than you know.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, mild dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, mommy kink, intoxication/intox kink, breeding kink, praise kink, age gap (late 30s, early 20s)

a/n: birthday gift for my wonderful bestie @explorevenus!! i love you so so much <3 also also also, imagine them both at their re6 ages, i just couldn't find any pics of re6 ada i liked sue me 😔

Little white flakes of snow landed one after another on the clear pane of glass in front of your face. You chewed your bottom lip while watching the flurries compile on the window, and in-turn, your car parked in the driveway.

Behind you, a pair of sharp heels clacked against the tile floor as the owner of said driveway returned to the room. Ada stepped through the archway and down the half-step to approach you by the front door. Laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, she smiled when you turned to look at her.

“Here’s your check, sweetheart,” she said, bringing a small rectangular paper to brush against your fingertips.

“Thank you,” you replied as you took it from her. Your eyes immediately made their way back to the storm outside that grew worse by the second.

She followed your gaze, her palm staying in place on your shoulder. Unlike you, Ada’s face remained composed. She wasn’t worried in the slightest. She’d known this storm was coming. It was an integral part of her plan for tonight.

But despite her internal calmness, she furrowed her dark brows and injected some worry into her tone.

“It’s getting bad out there. That snow is just piling up,” she proclaimed, “There’s no way you should be driving in weather like that.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your thoughts had been reaching the same conclusion. You were just hesitant to voice them because after a long day of work, you yearned for the comfort of your apartment. It was finally the weekend, and your plush bed and soft sheets called to you. You’d been dreaming of the quiet between those walls all day. The privacy to do whatever you wanted that you didn’t have when you were here for most hours of the week. 

Make no mistake, you loved your job as the Kennedys full-time nanny, but regardless of your enjoyment, it was still work that required a lot of attention and labor. Their daughter was the sweetest child you’d ever met; however, carting her to and from dance class and kindergarten along with making her food, playing with her, and putting her down for naps piled up on you.

“Maybe if I leave now, I can make it…” you thought aloud.

“Oh please. Honey, you live across town. You’d have to take the highway, and people drive crazy as is. I should know, my husband is one of them,” she joked.

Your brows raised at the mention of Leon. You hadn’t even thought about how your other employer would get home tonight. You looked over your shoulder at her again. “Do you think he’ll be ok? It’s coming down really hard out there,” you said.

“Oh he’ll be fine,” she waved off, “His friend is giving him a ride home tonight. I’m sure they’ll make it in one piece.”

Releasing a small breath of relief, you nodded again.

“It’s really no problem if you stay,” she continued, “We have the guest room all set up. It has a bathroom attached, so you’d have total privacy. And I wouldn’t make you watch Christina or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh no,” you reassured, “It’s not that, don’t worry. I just don’t want to be a burden on you and Mr. Kennedy.”

“You’re never a burden on us. With all you do for Christina, you’re practically part of the family. I wouldn’t want you driving off and getting into an accident just because you didn’t want to impose. I’m sure you know that we have more than enough space in this house,” she said and ran her hand over your bicep down to your wrist. Her manicured nails scraped over your skin, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You felt a simmer of heat in your chest upon hearing those kind words coming from her painted lips. That combined with the teasing touch had your heart pumping a little faster in your chest. It was something you rarely thought about, but maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of why you enjoyed this job so much was because both of your employers looked like reoccuring stars in people’s wet dreams all over the world.

“Thank you. I would really appreciate it,” you answered, your prior trepidation dissolving under the heat of her gaze. You slid your check into your purse and then placed the bag back down on the end table by the door.

She smirked, though she tried to make it appear as an earnest smile. Of course, Ada sensed the little crush you had on her and her husband. It wasn’t hard to tell given the way you preened in the face of the slightest of compliments or gave them the look a puppy would give its owner whenever they praised you for your hard work.

“Great,” she said, “Come with me. I’ll put on some dinner. We’ll get you fed and then I’ll show you to your room and be out of your hair for the night.”

Her slender fingers clasped around your hand, guiding you back through that archway and towards the kitchen. The two of you passed by a few family portraits and expensive paintings before reaching your destination - the luxurious kitchen that probably held a value higher than all the money you’d made in your life.

You could fit about six of your kitchens in this one. That would be another nice thing about staying here for the night, getting to use the high end items they had stocked rather than the odds and ends you owned.

She led you across the gray marble floors over to the spacious island, all but sitting you down on one of the stools.

“You just relax for a few minutes, and I’ll work on the food,” she said.

You took your seat, not willing to protest her hospitality further. Your eyes scanned around the kitchen you’d become so familiar with over the last year. She walked into the pantry for a couple seconds, returning with a box and some small containers before setting them on the counter.

“You like pasta?” she asked.

“Who doesn’t?” you responded.

She let out a small laugh at that. “No wonder Leon likes you so much. A girl after his own heart.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea that Mr. Kennedy liked you. Before hearing that, you didn’t suspect he had any problems with you. In fact, he let you know all the time that he was pleased with your performance and couldn’t ask for anyone better to take care of Christina. But appreciating you and liking you were two separate things, the latter of which gave you that warm feeling in your stomach.

In the corner of the counters, Ada bent down to grab a pot. Your eyes went with her, dragging along her figure to where her form-fitting black slacks covered the swell of her ass. As soon as you realized you were staring, you averted your gaze. You pushed out any further thoughts about how her red blouse was probably unbuttoned at the top, allowing a clear view of her breasts down the front of the shirt.

She stood back up with the pot in hand and filled it with some water. Tapping the electric stove to life, she put it on to boil. You watched as she poured some oil in the water and then grabbed a pan to put on for what you assumed would be the sauce.

With both pieces heating up, she moved to the cabinets up above. She reached for the one next to the section that held all of Christina’s dishes, her sippy cups and princess plates. The cupboard you took from most of the time you were here.

Instead of grabbing a Little Mermaid themed piece of tupperware, her hand retrieved two wine glasses. She spun around to face you and brought the fragile items over to the island. After placing them in front of you, she stepped into a nearby alcove, the place you knew they kept all the liquor.

She came back with a nice bottle, something more rich than you’d ever drink on your own. Popping it open, she went to pour, but you interrupted.

“I don’t really need any,” you said with a timid smile.

While you weren’t a prude about drinking under other circumstances, Ada was still your boss. Being under any kind of influence around her held a risk you didn’t find worth taking.

She just smirked at you though, not making any effort to conceal it this time.

“C’mon, loosen up a bit,” she coaxed, “You’re not on the clock. You’ve been working all week, even later today since I was late. Take it as my apology.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You paid me for the overtime,” you replied.

“Still. Keeping you longer than expected on short notice is inconsiderate,” she said. 

She rounded the counter with the bottle and your glass in hand. Upon reaching you, she set the glass down directly in front of you with the bottle beside it. The proximity left no room for hesitation. One of her hands came up, brushing across the back of your neck to rest on your shoulder like it had earlier.

“You’re not saying no because you think this is some sort of test, do you? Because I wouldn’t bother with something like that, sweetheart. I was young once too,” she told you. You swore she was leaning in closer as her voice became more of a purr next to your ear, but you didn’t dare look. “I know how good a drink can feel after a long week. You’re human. My husband and I don’t expect you to be a child-friendly saint even when you’re not working,” she continued.

Her fingers rubbed miniscule circles on the cloth of your top. You still didn’t think it was the best idea to drink around your boss, but Ada had never given you a reason not to trust her. It was quite the opposite. Most days, the Kennedys seemed too good to be true.

You knew they were human. Occasionally while speaking to you, they’d slip in a jab about the other or allude to some sort of marital problem that sprouted up after years of being together. They’d make mistakes like coming home late or forgetting to tell you that Christina’s dance lesson had been canceled until you were already on the way there.

But when it came to their relationships with you, they were absolute dreams. They gave you expensive gifts for your birthday and Christmas. Paid you above what was the standard for nannies in this area. Talked to you like someone they were interested in rather than a person they were forced to interact with. And hell, now they were offering up their home to you when you needed it.

“Alright. If it’s ok with you,” you agreed.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said and tilted the bottle towards your glass.

Deep red liquid spilled into the curved dish. She wasn’t shy with how much she gave you, that was for sure. You could already smell that heady aroma swirling around the air.

“You can have as much as you’d like. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, we want you to feel at home here with us,” she said.

Before she walked away, her hand swept down your back, stroking it with a domineering, almost maternal sort of affection. It sent another round of chills through your body. You reached for the wine glass and gripped the stem hard. It was probably for the best that she and her husband weren’t actually around for most of your work here if this was how you reacted to a simple touch.

You brought the glass to your lips and sipped some of the liquid as she poured her own. After taking down some of the drink to numb your responsive nerves, you set it down again. You didn’t want to over-indulge.

“I really do feel at home here. I wasn’t saying no because I’m not comfortable with you. I just really care about what you and Mr. Kennedy think of me. I wouldn’t want you thinking you hired someone irresponsible to watch over your daughter,” you explained. What was left unspoken was that you didn’t want either of them thinking you were trashy in your own right either.

She nodded and stirred the bubbling sauce on the stove. She had to stop herself from saying I know. “That’s good. But you don’t need to worry so much. Both me and my husband think very highly of you,” she said instead.

A rush coursed through you upon hearing that. You smiled and raised your glass again, ingesting some more of the intoxicating liquid.

She watched out of the corner of her eye. It was a struggle to keep quiet and not fawn over how adorable you looked when you got all giddy. She kept her attention on dinner though, adding the noodles when the water reached a boil and spicing the sauce.

There was nothing she needed to say right now. She’d just be quiet and let you nurse that drink. It wasn’t that she needed the alcohol for what she wanted to do tonight. She could probably seduce you right now without much effort if she so desired. But tonight had been well-planned out, and for all the effort she put into it, she was gonna get everything she wanted out of it.

Ada had wanted you since the day they hired you. She could still remember the cute little outfit you wore on that Sunday you showed up for your interview. A nice plaid skirt with a dark sweater up top. Objectively modest but still attractive enough to garner attention. You’d been so polite, sitting with your ankles crossed and perfect posture. She could tell you were fighting off nerves with each answer you gave her and Leon. You were only the second candidate they’d met with, but Ada dismissed any other option before you’d even said your goodbyes.

That craving for you only became more intense over the last month or so. She’d had enough of coming home to you passed out on the couch, all sprawled out and vulnerable but not being able to take advantage. She was sick of only feeling grazes of the silken nature of your skin as she caught you before and after your shift.

That was why she calculated everything for tonight down to the minute. It would go off without a hitch. This wasn’t one of Leon’s missions that stumbled along and almost collapsed at multiple points before barely reaching the correct target. No, she’d thought this through.

By the end of the night, she would have you in the palms of her and Leon’s hands. She’d known this snow storm was coming, and she’d intentionally stayed a little later at work so that she’d be home by the time it was already raging outside and you’d put Christina to bed. She’d have the guest room for you, but you wouldn’t have any of your own belongings, which meant she’d have chances to lure you into her territory. She’d get you all peaceful and pliant by giving you a nice dinner and a fair amount of drinks. Everything would play out just like she intended it to.

She longed to see you at a baser state without any of your usual modesty impeding on your desires. She wanted you all giggling and cute, falling into her arms and spreading your legs without even being asked. You would love it. She just had to show you that.

She hummed to herself at a low volume while finishing up the food. Combining the curled pasta with the creamy sauce, she scooped two helpings onto each plate and made her way over to you with the dishes.

The two of you sat at the island, eating and drinking and talking. The conversation started on Christina but moved around to your personal life and her job among other subjects. She made sure to top off your wine whenever it got close to being empty.

“I know this job must keep you pretty busy, but do you do anything outside of it?” she eventually asked, “Maybe school or some other interests taking up your time?”

“Um… well,” you answered, “I tried out school for a while, and it wasn’t really the best fit for me… I messed around with some other things, and you know how that goes.”

A little laugh slipped from your lips. Your words were definitely more free-flowing than usual.

“Well there’s nothing wrong with taking things day by day,” she replied with a warm smile. She took a sip of her own drink before continuing her point. “You’re still young. You could stumble on something you don’t even know about right now.”

“Exactly!” you responded, all too excited to have someone agree with you, “That’s exactly how I feel. Like you know, this job. I feel like I won the lottery with you guys most days I’m here.”

“That makes me so happy to hear,” she said.

“It’s the truth. Ugh, the kids I babysat in high school were nightmares. And their parents barely paid me anything. I wasn’t even allowed to eat the food at the house. It was horrible. But you guys, you’re perfect I swear. Christina is so sweet and funny and smart. And this house is great. And you and Mr. Kennedy, you two… you’re like dreams,” you rambled.

“Really?” she asked with mild amusement. She set her drink down and leaned forward on her forearms.

The way your eyes widened and your lips parted, you looked like a little fish upon realizing how your last statement sounded. “I just mean you guys are like so great to work for. My favorite job I’ve ever had for sure,” you added.

She reached out, laying her smooth hand on your wrist. “That’s so sweet of you, honey. You’re great to have around too. Much better than our last nanny,” she said, “She always had some complaint about something, and her hours never ended up being consistent. Plus, she wasn’t as cute as you.”

The statement struck you like a bolt of lightning. You were sure your eyes widened to the size of gold medals. Heat oozed up from your chest into your face. This honestly felt like a dream. In reality, you were supposed to think your boss was hot. You were supposed to thirst after them, pine for moments of reciprocation that would never actually happen. But one just did.

“Oh, thank you,” you shrugged, an involuntary smile pulling at your mouth.

A low, knowing laugh echoed from her without her lips ever breaking that calculated smile. Ada’s rich eyes stayed on yours, not letting you get a reprieve from eye contact that lasted longer than a handful of seconds. Her fingertips massaged little circles onto your wrist as you spoke. The light touches felt like the tips of sparklers against your skin. Each one sent tingling warmth up your arm down to your belly.

“Oh come on, don’t look so nervous,” she said, “You must get compliments like that all the time. You’re a very pretty girl.”

Again, you shrugged. ���I guess,” you answered. The weight of her attention pressed on you, causing your gaze to lower to your lap.

She didn’t let you get away though. One of her hands ventured up to cup your jaw and pull your face upright. Her fingers lingered there as she stared at you. The curled, the flat backs of her knuckles smoothing across your cheek.

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” she asked.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. You shook your head no.

She hummed in response. Her fingers continued exploring the expanse of your cheek before dropping to lie on your shoulder.

“That’s good. No need to tie yourself to one person at your age. Though you do deserve someone to take care of you,” she said.

That dull heat in your stomach had long outgrown something so mild. It festered into full arousal by this point, a need hot and pulsating between your thighs. You bit your lip. It was all you could do to keep yourself from squirming in an attempt to grind on the stool.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, though the tone of your voice alone called the truth of that claim into question.

She laughed softly, the sound light and condescending. Her hand glided back and forth along your shoulder in short strokes.

“I’m sure you can, sweet girl. But you shouldn’t have to. You spend all week caring for someone else. You deserve to relax in your free time and have someone take over,” she said.

A visible shiver ran through you. Your teeth dug into the inside of your lip harder as you looked at her now.

“That does sound kind of nice,” you agreed.

She nodded along and brought her hand back to your face. One set of her nails lightly scraped along the frame of it, trailing down after to stroke your jaw. The sensation was enough to make your eyes flutter and send another small burst of desire through you.

“Of course it does,” she said, “You work so hard. You shouldn’t have to go home and cook or do dishes or laundry. You’re probably so tired by the time you get there.”

A hazy sigh puffed out from your mouth. “Yeah sometimes,” you confirmed.

“Mhm. Poor baby,” she cooed, “Someone should be there, letting you rest, doting on you like the precious thing you are.”

Now you felt as though you were glowing. Your breaths came in deep, lifting your chest up and down with each breath. A lazy, blissful smile sat on your features as your dreamy gaze fixated on her. Everything really was starting to feel like a dream. If you weren’t so captivated, you might have tried pinching yourself.

She chuckled at the expression before standing up. Her palms swept down to your shoulders again.

“You look tired, honey. We should probably get you some clothes to sleep in and then send you off to bed,” she said.

“Sounds good to me,” you said and started to rise from the stool yourself.

“Perfect. Just finish this off for me, sweetheart,” she said and lifted your glass to your hand again. It was nearly empty, but it couldn’t hurt having you drink a few drops more.

Denying her didn’t even occur to you in this condition. You brought the drink to your lips and swallowed the remainder while she cleared the counter of other dishes. 

In the blink of an eye, she was back at your side. One of her arms slipped around your waist while the other held your shoulder.

“Good girl,” she praised, “Come with me.”

Again, you followed the order without a trace of resistance. You walked alongside her down the path you had come. This time around you leaned into her for support. Your head felt cloudy. A sense of dizziness pervaded every movement you made. She watched with pure satisfaction as she led you to the hall.

“There you go. We’re almost there,” she cooed as if you didn’t know the layout of the house.

You passed the front door and turned into the area that held the doors to one of the bathrooms and the office space. At the end of the small corridor, she opened up the double doors that led into her and Leon’s room. Despite being here five days a week, you rarely ever went in here. You could use one hand to count the number of occasions in which you ever needed to cross this threshold.

The decor was much darker than the rest of the house. Shades of gray morphed into dark black in here. Obsidian drapes framed the window, separated at the moment to let the moon shine through. All the furniture was crafted in deep tones of wood. The rug sprawled across the floor was nearly pitch black, spare the thin red designs sewn throughout.

You took it all in as if it was brand new to you. She paid your curiosity no mind and sat you down on the edge of her bed.

“Stay here for me. I’ll go find you something that fits you,” she said, running her hand over your head as if you were a prized pet.

You obeyed like one, not moving as she stepped away and into the walk in closet in the corner of the room. Your palms spread out on the bedding. The plush comforter tickled your fingers. It had to be one of the softest things you’d ever felt. Much different than the ratty old throw blankets you had on your bed back home.

A sigh seeped from your lips, and you found yourself laying back against the luxurious surface. You spread your arms out as though you were making angel wings in the snow outside. What would it be like to come home to this every night? To work hard all day and then be able to really relax in a place like this? To unwind with each one of your bosses at your side tending to you?

As these thoughts danced through your mind, you felt a hand grasp your thigh. You popped your head up to find Ada before you again, a couple pieces of clothing draped over her arm.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” she teased.

“I wasn’t. Sorry. Your bed is just like really comfy,” you said with a small giggle as you sat up.

“Isn’t it? We just got this one last year. Leon loved our old one, but I just find this one so much easier to sink into,” she agreed.

“Mhm. For sure,” you said, nodding your head up and down with too much enthusiasm for the subject.

That didn’t matter though. Ada didn’t think she could find one thing wrong with you right now if she tried. Beside you, she laid out the few things she’d taken from the closet.

“I wasn’t really sure what type of clothes you liked to sleep in or what you would fit so I brought a few for you to choose from,” she said.

With a gentle hand, she directed your attention to the outfits on the mattress. There were two, and they looked like night and day. Two opposites with no neutral middle. 

The one on the left consisted of a small black camisole, one that had to belong to Ada. A pair of silky, navy blue shorts sat with them, another find from her side of the wardrobe. Next to those two was a large gray sweatshirt and some flannel pajama pants, probably her husband’s if you had to guess.

Your eyes lingered on each. It appeared as though you were taking your time to decide, but really you just couldn’t stop trying to picture the clothing on their owners’ bodies. You imagined Ada’s soft curves covered by the thin cloth, her smooth thighs emerging from the shiny fabric of the shorts. Images of Leon flickered in your head too, the sleeves of that shirt rolled up to his elbows and leaving his forearms exposed. The plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips and giving you a nice view of his v-line.

While you stared at your options, she angled herself behind you, lifting one knee onto the bed. Her hands landed upon your shoulders to gently massage.

“Pick whatever you want. It’s totally up to you. You can take one or the other or combine the two. Maybe layer a bit since it’s so cold,” she whispered. She had leaned in right next to your ear. Her lips brushed your skin with every word.

It took everything you had not to whimper for more from her. Under normal circumstances, you would be squirming out of your skin, stuttering and awkwardly trying to justify her affection for you. But right now, you leaned back into it, letting the warmth flow through you.

She smiled and snaked her arms around your body, holding you tight against her. “I’ll have to buy you some clothes to keep here in case this ever happens again. We’ll keep a cute little wardrobe for you in the guest room, so you can stay whenever you like,” she added.

That pulled another giggle out of you along with growing the lazy smile on your face. “I’ll take both of these,” you finally decided and pulled the two tops toward yourself. You messily bundled both pieces into your lap.

“Great. But you still need some pants, sweetheart,” she teased.

“But I don’t like sleeping in pants,” you said and looked up at her with earnest eyes.

She reveled in your thoughtless confession but played it cool. “Are you sure? The bed upstairs has a lot of blankets and the heat should be on, but I wouldn’t want you getting cold,” she offered.

You shook your head. “I’ll be ok, but thank you,” you answered.

Standing up, you swayed on your feet a little. She rose from the bed herself and moved the rejected pairs of pants to the dresser nearby. When she turned to you and caught the wobbly nature of your stance, she moved in like a viper through tall grass and grabbed you by the elbow.

“Why don’t you just change in here? You know that way if you don’t like anything you won’t have to stumble up and down the stairs. Plus you can just leave your clothes here, and I’ll put them in the wash in the morning,” she said, making the offer as if it was based on a genuine desire to help you.

You blinked at her. “Like… change in here? In the bedroom?” you checked.

She nodded, her fingers gliding up your arm. “Mhm. We’re both girls, honey. No need to be shy. I’ll even turn around if you want me to,” she said in a way that somehow soothed you and set your whole body on fire.

You felt like a fireworks show was going off in your stomach. The adrenaline rushing through your veins made you light-headed, and the wine probably didn’t help. You couldn’t think of a reason to say no.

“Alright,” you agreed with a heavy breath.

“Good girl,” she praised with a squeeze to your shoulder.

You felt your clit throb between your legs. At this point, you knew you’d probably have to rub one out as soon as you reached the privacy of the guest room.

Turning around, you dropped the two shirts back on the bed. Without much hesitation, you started to undress. Your shirt was first to go. You tucked your fingers beneath the hem and peeled it off.

Ada’s gaze focused completely on you as she saw the soft skin of your back completely exposed. This was the most important part of the night. If she messed up here, all of it would have been for nothing. She hadn’t planned out every minute movement she would make, but she could think on her feet. This would work.

She headed over near the closet entrance again but didn’t venture inside. She stood right outside in front of the full length mirror, a seemingly reasonable position where she was sure you’d be able to see her if you turned around.

Bending down, she unbuckled her heels and then kicked them to the side. She undid her slacks next and shimmied them off to pool around her ankles.

You heard the rustling of the fabric and the clicks of unfastening. It didn’t register in your mind what they would be coming from until you glanced over your shoulder and spotted her. Your jaw fell open while your eyes bulged from their sockets. You were pretty sure you stopped breathing in the middle of removing your bra.

She stood there as if nothing about this was odd. Her fingers worked on undoing the buttons on her blouse, parting the two sides and revealing a sliver of her skin. Her legs were already out in the open, all for your eyes to see.

In the reflection of the mirror in front of her, she caught your wide-eyed stare. She spun around to face you head on. She unhooked the last button. Her shirt fell open, allowing you to see her flesh from her navel to her collar bone. Underneath the blouse, she still had on a lacy bra and matching panties.

Not missing a beat, she just chuckled and walked closer. “Did you get stuck, honey? Need some help?” she asked.

She approached your frozen form and brought her hands to your shoulders where your bra straps sat. Using her nimble fingers, she guided the thin pieces down your arms. The entire garment fell away and dropped to the floor in front of you.

“There you go. Let mommy help you,” she whispered.

This time you actually couldn’t tell if the words were real or imagined. They’d been so hushed, so faint, but you would swear on anything that you felt them fan over your neck.

She moved to your jeans next, flicking the button open and tugging the zipper loose. The denim crumpled under the force of her hands shoving them down. You stepped out of each pant leg before she kicked them aside along with your bra.

Her hands came to rest on your hips for a moment before gliding up your sides. They smoothed over your curves like streams of warm water. You felt the gentle pressure move from your sides around to your tummy. She was only teasing you right now. Her touches felt good, but they didn’t explore anywhere that would give you true pleasure.

“You have such soft skin,” she cooed.

“Thank you,” you hummed, preening under her touch.

“So tender and pretty. Perfectly smooth,” she whispered.

You were already melting under her hands, but she knew she could go further. She ducked in and kissed your neck. You moaned at the feeling, at her hot mouth latching onto your skin. She laid a few more there after to follow.

“Mmm, so sweet too,” she hummed.

You whimpered and let your head fall back onto her shoulder, leaving more of your neck accessible to her lips. She took advantage. Leaning in, she licked a stripe over your pulse and followed the trail of saliva with a series of kisses. Her teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh.

“A-ada…” you sighed.

“I’m right here, sweet baby,” she purred, “Does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

“I bet it does. You’re so sensitive, aren’t you? Jumping under every touch. I was like that at your age too,” she teased.

Her hands broke the little patterns they’d been tracing into your stomach to float upward. One by one they each landed on your breasts. Her palms cupped the mounds and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“You have such a gorgeous body,” she said as she nuzzled the space behind your ear, “You’re so shy. So precious. Running around my house like a skittish little puppy.”

No words of protest or denial made their way out of you. It felt good to bask in her attention, to know that she saw you as something so delicate.

“I think I’m starting to understand why though,” she teased.

Her fingers went to your pebbled nipples, pulling and tweaking the sensitive nubs. You mewled and squirmed in her grasp.

“Mommy,” you whined, not caring if she had actually been the one to say it first.

“Mhm. Look at you, already calling me mommy. You were thinking about this, weren’t you baby? You’ve been wanting mommy to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, not being coy about it.

She grinned against your neck before turning you around. Once you could see her, she displayed a much more seductive expression. “Let mommy take care of you then,” she said.

With caring hands, she guided you onto the bed and laid you against a mountain of the pillows near the headboard. She crawled above you, looking down at you like a panther that had just caught its next meal.

“Let me have a taste of those lips. See if they're as soft as the rest of you,” she murmured before lowering herself.

She connected her mouth to yours. Her lips engulfed your own in a kiss, her tongue teasing you. You reciprocated. Your lips parted as you moaned, granting her access. She didn’t waste any time. Her breaths came out heavier as she focused herself entirely on you.

As her mouth worked on you above, her hands continued roaming your body below. She groped your hips and explored your thighs. You gasped softly at the mix of sensations, rolling your hips up against nothing.

“So impatient, baby,” she breathed as she pulled back, “You act like such a good girl all the time, but I bet that leaves you so desperate, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

She nodded and moved down to your neck again. Her mouth trailed over the skin with little pecks and soft sucks. The idea of leaving marks tempted her, but that could come later. She didn’t intend on this being her only time with you.

You felt her kisses migrate across your throat to your collarbone and down to the valley between your breasts. Her tongue played there for a moment, drawing out the moments before she would give you your first real taste of relief.

“Mommy, please,” you tried, eyes fluttering.

“So demanding,” she cooed. She moved her mouth to the right though and wrapped her lips around your nipple.

You arched your back off the bed and breathed out a whiny sigh. The tip of her tongue swirled around the bud. She laved at it, applying the perfect amount of pressure to get you squirming. Her hands massaged your waist in the meantime. She would make sure you felt good all over.

Your legs shifted around at the tingling building between your thighs. You craved some friction so badly, but she was still fixated on your chest. Her mouth released your nipple and planted one more kiss on it before she moved to the other and gave it the same treatment.

It got the same pleasured reaction out of you that only increased when one of her hands came up to toy with the sensitive peak that already experienced her mouth. You mewled without shame, digging her heels into the mattress.

She finally let it go as she had the other one, with a wet pop. Her eyes flitted up to you, taking in your breathless expression. After a couple seconds, she started kissing down your belly. She scooted herself down between your legs.

“You’re so needy,” she cooed, “No one’s taken care of you in so long. It’s left you aching.”

Her fingers ghosted over your thin panties, the ribbed fabric nowhere near as luxurious as hers. You watched her eyes follow her hands. The dark irises locked on your center. Her thumb traced the length of your cunt, grazing over your clit down to your leaking entrance. A nice wet patch began forming on the seat of your panties.

“That’s ok though. No one else could take care of you like mommy can. You’d be wasting your time.”

Your eyelids felt heavy as you watched her tug your panties off, drooping with the weight of your lust. You felt the cool air hit the glistening folds between your legs as soon as your lower half was free of the thin covering.

“So wet for me already,” she said, “That’s my good girl. Always so eager to please.”

She didn’t waste time teasing. Why would she? After months of coveting, she finally had you within her grasp, ready for the taking. She gripped your thighs and dove in, flattening her tongue against your soaked core. With a broad stroke, her tongue dragged over the slick flesh.

You mewled in response. A soft gasp accompanied the sound. She spotted your fingers gripping the bedding. So responsive from the simplest of touches. You were going to be fun.

She attacked your clit next. First, she treated it with little flicks of her tongue. Quick and repetitive, it stroked the tiny bud until you let out a pretty whine. She then latched her lips on, sucking on your pulsing bundle of nerves.

All the thoughts in your head melted away. The only thing you could do at this point was babble out a small collection of words including “mommy” and “please more.”

She got into it. All her focus trained on you. This was what she had been dreaming of for a year after all. Ever since she saw you in that little plaid skirt. She’d have to have you wear it again one of these days so she could eat you out under it.

Your thighs squeezed around her head as she lapped at your entrance. It felt good, a more dull kind of bliss than what she’d brought you before, but still good. She didn’t mind the pressure from your legs. Her nails dug into your tender flesh and kept you right in place to continue on with her task.

You trembled and twitched with the ecstasy coursing through you. Your eyes rolled back, your vision going out for a second. It felt as though your head was engulfed by drowsy clouds straight from the heavens. The few people you had been with before never made you feel like this.

Your head had lolled back for a moment in the throes of carnal pleasure. When your vision started to return, you brought it back up to look at her again. Only she didn’t catch your attention this time.

Instead your pupils landed on the shadowy figure at the double doors you had entered through.

You practically jumped out of your skin before you realized who it was. She felt you startle and briefly looked over her shoulder before returning her attention to your pussy. The person stepped forward, allowing moonlight to cast over their figure and show their face.

Leon.

“It sounds like you broke her already,” he said as he approached the bed. Making his way to your pair, he ended up standing beside you. His eyes scanned over your nude body, drinking in every inch of your figure.

“I told you I’d have her nice and warmed up by the time you came home,” she replied, shooting him a smile from the crux of your thighs.

Their words flew over your head. You couldn’t really hear them with how fast your heart was beating. God, how could you have been so stupid? You totally forgot about Leon until this very moment. Apparently, a few drinks was all it took to let your pussy take control. All you had been thinking about for the last half hour was how badly you wanted Ada, how beautiful she looked laying in front of you, devouring you whole. The fact that she was married with a husband completely slipped your mind.

“Mr. Kennedy, I’m so sorry. I- um- We just-” you stammered, incapable of coming up with any sort of defense for your actions.

But he didn’t look mad. He sat down beside your shoulder, gazing down at you with some sort of affection in his eyes.

“I think I’ve told you before that I prefer when you call me Leon, sweetheart,” he told you, petting your head.

Biting your lip, you leaned into the touch. Your eyes looked so sweet gazing up at him as you did. He felt his blood beginning to flow South in response. His hand continued stroking over your scalp before moving to your shoulder, feeling your soft skin beneath his fingers.

“She’s been such a good girl for mommy,” Ada praised from below before rubbing your clit rapidly with her middle and index finger. The quick motion drew a whiny moan from you, only adding to Leon’s arousal.

His eyes flicked between you and his wife. “You didn’t give her too much to drink, did you?” he asked.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “She only had a few. What do you take me for?”

“Well she looks a little out of it. I just thought I’d check. My mistake,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb absentmindedly.

She laughed softly at that. “You know I’m good with my mouth, darling. I don’t need any help getting her to look like that.”

You whimpered as she reattached her mouth to your cunt. Turning your head, you squished your face against his thigh. Your hips bucked. You could feel your release building up, the urge to let go flourishing inside you. Your noises became more high pitched, more needy. He looked down at you with something resembling curiosity with a trace of adoration.

“That feel good, baby? Not too much for you?” he asked.

“N- no, feels- mmph! Feels good,” you choked out between labored breaths. The hand closer to him flew up to grab at his thigh. Your digits dug into the material of his pants as another whine erupted from you.

He swapped his leg for his hand, letting you squeeze his palm as hard as you wanted.

“That’s it. Good girl. Hold daddy’s hand. I’ve got you,” he hummed.

Ada let her hand take over again and brought her head up to watch the two of you.

“Are you close, honey?” she asked.

“Mhm,” you responded instantly.

“Good. I want you to cum for me, ok? Cum for mommy and daddy. We’re gonna get you all nice and wet before you take daddy’s cock,” she said with the sweetest smile on her face in contrast to her dirty words.

You jolted at the prospect. A sharp breath tore through you right before your orgasm did. Your body shook and convulsed, arching and rolling as if you were possessed. Vaguely, you could hear both of their voices. You couldn’t make out the exact words, but the tones were that of praise.

The world around you faded away as you came on her fingers. Your chest puffed up and down with heavy breaths, and your head went limp against Leon’s leg.

Moments later as you began to come down, you felt him shift your weight onto the pillows. His presence receded and more hushed words filled the room. You heard fabric crinkling and a belt hitting the floor.

The mattress dipped as he climbed back on. Your eyes cracked open in time to see him kneeling between your legs. His hands rested on your bent knees, fingers caressing your skin. 

Your eyes swept over one of the bodies you’d been imagining in recent months. You could see the few veins that marked his forearms and biceps. He was still muscular despite getting older, but he had begun to fill out a little with some softer flesh. Brown hair dusted the skin from his navel down to a thicker patch of it at the base of his cock.

Meanwhile, Ada landed by your side. You took a breath, and her scent overwhelmed you in place of Leon’s. Her curves pressed up against you. Your head rested against the cushion of her breasts while you could feel the smoothness of her belly against your arm.

She kissed the crown of your head, nestling her nose against your hair. “You ready for daddy, baby? I know he’s ready for you,” she whispered.

You nodded, watching Leon as he gave his cock a few tugs. His eyes remained soft even in the midst of his desire.

While Leon wasn’t the one who’d hatched this plan to get you here, that didn’t mean he was oblivious to your beauty. There was a reason he’d agreed to this in the first place. He’d become just as enamored with you in the same time his wife did. He couldn’t help it. Even though he knew it was such a cliche at his age, he couldn’t stop himself from lusting after the babysitter.

He was only human. It was only natural for his eyes to linger on your waist when you squatted down to say goodbye to his daughter. The flutter in his stomach when you hugged him from the side a few times was just a matter of instinct. It wasn’t his fault the sound of your laughter nearly had him drooling or that the sight of you carrying his child to the car made him weak in the knees.

At least that’s what he told himself. That it was just a harmless crush. Something he’d never act on or get to experience anywhere other than the little scenarios that played in his head while he jerked off in the shower.

But then he found out his wife had an interest in you too. Your name came up during an intimate moment of their own. Between kisses, Ada asked him what he thought of you. He had pulled back, confused by the sudden question (and slightly nervous that he’d have to discuss you while already half-hard).

“Uh… she’s good. Christina likes her. She’s sweet, responsible, hardworking. Little shy, but I’m sure that’s just when we’re around,” he’d shrugged.

“Not like that,” she’d rolled her eyes and leaned back in to kiss his neck, “What do you think of her? She’s young, pretty, looks at you like you hung the stars. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a little babysitter fantasy before, darling.”

At first he’d thought it was a test. He denied it, proclaiming that was wrong. He only had interest in his wife, and you were just trying to do your job. The fact that you were easy on the eyes meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about your sparkling eyes or soft lips or nice curves. He didn’t notice the sweet sound of your voice or any of your cute little mannerisms. Pffft. No way.

“That’s a shame. Because I think she’s beautiful. She’s just so sweet and cute, and she doesn’t even know. The only place she could look any better is lying between us. And you know she’d be so sensitive to every little touch. She’d whimper like a little puppy,” she whispered against his skin.

In that moment, all his guilt had zapped away. He groaned at her words, accepting them without hesitation. There was no jealousy on his end, absolutely no discomfort at the idea of his wife lusting for someone else. Not when that someone else was you.

Because it meant that he got to have you like he did right now, spread out before him all blissed out and pretty. He guided his length to your entrance and dragged the tip over your folds. It glided through your wetness, nudging your clit before falling back down.

“You sure you’re ready, princess?” he asked.

“Mhm. Pretty please,” you affirmed, natural puppy dog eyes on display.

“Look at you. So polite,” he mumbled.

He prodded the head at your entrance, popping it inside. For a few moments, that was all that entered you. He let you adjust to the intrusion and let himself get used to the vise-like clamp of your velvety walls. The few seconds were necessary if he didn’t want to humiliate himself by blowing his load in less than a minute.

After that time though, he began easing it inside of you inch by inch. You whined at the light stretch. Ada stroked your arm with one hand and caressed the swell of your breasts with the other.

“That’s right, honey. You’re taking him so well,” she crooned.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” Leon grunted.

Ada grinned at that before looking at you again. “Are you squeezing daddy nice and tight? Showing him where to go?” she teased.

You moaned and nodded while Leon groaned and shut his eyes. Ada kissed your cheek as her husband bottomed out. Her hand fell to your stomach, rubbing over it. He leaned forward. His palm pressed down next to you on the mattress to keep his balance. He hovered above you, blue eyes looking down with lidded awe.

Pulling his hips back, he rocked them forward again right after. He dragged his pelvis away and then brought it right back, flush against your core. You whimpered with each movement. The satisfying slide sent warmth through you each time.

“Atta girl. Taking it so well, just like mommy said,” he mumbled.

Now he pumped his hips with more dedication. He increased his speed. Exploratory moves became deliberate strokes. Leon settled into a rhythm. He swiveled his hips and angled the way he pistoned them based on the little noises you’d make and the expressions that took over your face. He paid close attention to it all, wanting to learn what you liked, what made you feel good.

Ada continued moving her hands along your form. One moment she played with your nipples, the next she held your hips, after that she pulled your knees up further. It was dizzying trying to keep up.

“Our sweet girl,” she cooed in your ear, “Precious baby. Maybe this should be your new job. You’re good at your other one, but I think we’d like having you all to ourselves.”

Leon groaned again, his head hanging forward. Although the words had been directed at you, they had just as much of an effect on him.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby?” he asked, “Sitting around and looking pretty. Letting us spoil you like you deserve”

“You know she would. Do you even have to ask?” Ada said, “She’d love it. Spending the day kneeling between your legs while you work, using that mouth of hers whenever you want.”

“She could spend some with you too. Sit on your lap and let you play with her with one hand while typing with the other,”  he offered in return.

“And then one day, if she’s really good, maybe daddy will breed that cute little pussy and fuck a baby into her,” she whispered.

Leon’s hips snapped against you hard as you turned to eye her. The words broke you out of the spell his cock had you under before.

“What?” you asked.

She chuckled and cupped your jaw, giving you a patronizing kiss.

“What, sweetheart? You’d like that wouldn’t you? It’d make mommy and daddy so happy, you giving us another baby,” she said.

Your head spun at the idea. You blinked and sputtered. In your right, rational mind, you’d put a pause to this. But with a few drinks in you and one orgasm already under your belt, the idea didn’t sound all too bad. It’s not like you were gonna sign a contract or something. They weren’t even asking you to agree to anything right now. But just imagining it…

“You’d look so pretty, babydoll. Your hips all rounded out, all those curves nice and full, that cute stomach swollen with our baby,” Leon sighed.

Imagining it was in fact fun you decided. Your pussy clenched around him again before relaxing. You heard Ada moan softly beside you. Glancing over, you could see her fingers moving beneath her panties, working herself to the edge alongside you.

“You’d love it, honey. You’re made for it. And we’d take such good care of you, make sure you had everything you could want,” he added.

“Mmmm… daddy,” you babbled, unable to voice the full extent of your enthusiasm.

“Uh huh. Daddy’s right here. I’m gonna fill you up. You’re first little taste, yeah? I’ll get you nice and full so you know how it feels,” he moaned.

His bicep flexed as he continued to pound into you. Over and over, he slammed into your cunt. Ada continued moaning beside your ear. Her own noises were growing more desperate. You could feel her hips rocking up to meet her own touch.

“Daddy gonna- gonna- ah- gonna cum,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead, pumpkin,” he grunted, “Cum for daddy. Let me see my pretty girl let go.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You let release wash over you in a smooth wave. Your body writhed and twitched below his. You squirmed atop the blankets, letting your muscles melt into the plush comfort of them.

Next to you, Ada reached the high too. Watching you fall apart was the final straw in her own resolve. She bucked her hips and nuzzled into your throat while crumbling under the bliss of release.

Leon was the last one to join the club. He fucked you through your euphoria while approaching his own. When he finally hit it, a strangled moan burst from him. He fell forward against you, burying his face in the side of your neck not occupied by his wife. His hands gripped your hips and held them in place as he rolled his pelvis against your ass like a dog in heat. He fucked rope after rope of hot cum into you.

By the time he pulled out, you were nice and full just like he said you would be.

You were also undeniably sleepy. Your eyes were all but shut, and your body was curling up as though you were ready for a nap.

He stretched his arm out and pulled you against his side to rest. His other hand rubbed down your body, tenderly coasting over your soft skin.

“Such a good girl for us. You were so good,” he murmured, “Our sweet baby.”

Ada scooted near your back, her hand joining Leon’s in soothing you.

“Don’t keep her all to yourself,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “You had her to yourself hours before I got here,” he dismissed.

She smirked and pecked his lips before looking down at you. Leaning in, she nuzzled your ear. “Sleep now, baby. You need the rest. Daddy will carry you to bed in a little bit,” she whispered.

Like before, you didn’t need any convincing. Your muscles relaxed as they got comfortable and pulled the blankets into place. You let yourself drift off between their two bodies while the storm raged on outside. Your mind slipped into dreamland, letting reality melt away for a little while.

[insertdisc5]

TIMELOOP GAMES REAL!??!??!!

hi i made a timeloop game called In Stars and Time and this is a whole post about other timeloop games you can also play.

some i liked. some i loved. some i didnt like. all are worth playing and like also listen the second friends and family heard i was making a timeloop game, i got bombarded with timeloop media recs. so here is a sampler in no particular order! NOTE: knowing some of those games are timeloop games is a spoiler. but. you are here. for timeloop games. so timeloop games you shall have

Outer Wilds

If you need to play one timeloop game, it's this one. Please play it blind. I swear to god you won't regret it. it's timeloops in space!!! it makes you think!!! there are so many "HOLY SHIT WAIT I GET IT NOW" moments!!! please just go play it please please please. some of the best environmental storytelling in a game. so many hints in plain sight. JUST PLAY IT

[way more timeloop games under the cut]

Oxenfree

I didn't actually like Oxenfree very much. But also it stayed in my mind for weeks after I finished playing it. that's how you know it's a good game. I really enjoyed the dialogue system in this, and how much the loop affected the characters. and it got so spooky!!!

Hikeback

i'm in the credits for this one because i was one of the inspirations heehee <3 i loved playing it… short little game about trust, self-sabotage, and never-ending cycles. highly recommend it

The Stanley Parable

Listen babes it absolutely counts. I replayed it a bunch while making ISAT, and I got immensely inspired by the dialogue, and how it catches you off guard sometimes? You get SO SO used to the narrator's "All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean?" at the start of every game, and then for no reason instead it says "A soft wind blew outside and perhaps rain started, and if it did it stopped shortly after. Stanley hoped that he would one day see weather." like WHAT THE FUUUUCK IM GETTING CHILLS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT

12 minutes

ok i know we all made fun of this game when it came out because the story is batshit insane HOWEVER!!!!!!!! i REALLY REALLY LOVED how doing the same actions multiple times would have slightly different outcomes. If you battle someone, the first time you get knocked out in one hit and the loop restarts. the second time you try, you evade the first hit, but get knocked out. the third time, you last a little bit longer, and a little bit longer, until you can pretty much hold your own against your enemy. And it applies to so many things in this. Retrying different things to see how they would change was a delight.

this game is also so bad its almost good, and if you're interested you HAVE to play it with friends so you can yell about how bad it is together.

Zero Escape

it's just a good series ok. escape rooms, and also time loops! the 3rd game in particular goes deep into The Math of how timeloops would work, which i think is interesting. sometimes timeloop games just go "yeah you can timeloop dont worry about it" and others go "OK HERE'S THE HOW AND WHY IT WORKS" and both are interesting!

START AGAIN: a prologue

this game has almost everything i could wish for in a timeloop game. depression. lines repeating. dying brings you back. you get new levels and skills because you're aware of the loops but your party members don't. so you get overpowered next to them and they Notice. just. party members who dont know about the loops still noticing something is wrong. you are acting differently than yesterday. you look sad. you are acting weird. you know too much. how did you know where the keys were? how did you know this would happen? what's wrong? talk to us. and oh my god this game has a sequel? which will probably have Actually Everything i could wish for in a timeloop game? i can't wait. who made this? (its me i made this)

Ghost Trick

ok its not really time loops and more time travel and only for 4 minutes HOWEVER!!!! you should play it. you know you should play it because everyone says so. so go play it

Elsinore

im sure its a great game but ive never seen/read hamlet. so thats a failing on my part. because. you absolutely need to know hamlet to understand this game lol i did like the whole "make sure to find out which events are Important and which ones aren't so you can have The Perfect Loop"! very fun. or it would be. if i. knew. hamlet

The Forgotten City

a friend kept recommending it to me and i didn't like it. its good! just not for me. but if you like to think a lot you should play it. another "make sure to find out which events are Important and which ones aren't so you can have The Perfect Loop" game

Gnosia

Gonna be real. I didn't like the story very much, in part because the game lets you choose your gender but still acts like youre a straight dude. HOWEVER the gameplay was very inspiring to me. Every loop is pretty much just an among us meeting, and you have to find out who the imposters are or everyone dies and you loop again. and sometimes you ARE the imposter, so you need to make sure no one finds out. or you loop again. rules get added as time goes on too. i REALLY loved how quickly the loops stacked up. seeing "loop 100" was such a nice moment. ive been here so long! i tried to recreate that somewhat for my own game…

Loop Hero

Technically not a timeloop game, but a loop game. It still absolutely counts because it's about loops and memories, and what are loops and memories together if not a timeloop. You have your little guy going through a closed loop, battling enemies, getting cards, and making the world whole again by using those cards to make forests, towns, lakes come to life. I am famously a Story First Gameplay Second kinda player, but I did play this 45h for the gameplay alone. I learned a lot about battle balancing and randomness by playing this!

You and Me and Her: A Love Story

you know doki doki litterature club? this came before. and one might say. it's. better. in some parts (and i say that as someone who LOVED ddlc!) i won't say much except it's a dating sim but with timeloops. with a lot of what it implies. why are you dating this girl a second time? a third time? a fourth time? choose another one already! it was such a fascinating game to play, and is incredibly meta in the way it talks about dating sims and visual novels. had a lot of very impactful moments however, i played the hentai version. some of the worst, most cringy sex ive ever read and heard. however, one might say the sex is an integral part of the game and its deconstruction of hentai/dating sims…? no. just play the steam version which doesnt have the horrible sex scenes and you will have a great time i think (or play the hentai version. if you like. to watch. horrible sex scenes???)

Higurashi

knowing this is a timeloop game is a massive spoiler. however, this game is more than a decade old, so,,, honestly if you havent played higurashi what are you doing. i know i just spoiled you on it but i was also spoiled on it and i can GUARANTEE YOU that you will still have an amazing time. one more thing. you gotta play with the original sprites or you're a fake fan

I Was a Teenage Exocolonist

starts as a visual novel/management sim/dating sim kinda thing, until you realize that every replay is a new timeline. so the main character can save people, because they remembered about them dying in a previous one. i wish the timeloop would affect the game/story more (let me find a certain character quicker once ive found them in a previous playthrough!!!), but timeloop aside, it's a very fun game to play!!!

that's it! hope you will find a nice timeloop game you like

[suiana]

(yandere! doctor x gn! patient) (cw: nsfw, yandere stuff, drugging, bribery, dubcon?)

your doctor is a little weird, you think.

he's a nice guy, yeah. does his work well, always smiling and constantly reassuring you that nothing's wrong with you. sending you off with a nice pat on the back as he emails you your prescription yet again.

but he's nowhere near professional.

his hands linger on your body far longer than what would be considered appropriate. eyes dark and unreadable as you tell him about your lovely significant other that's waiting for you outside of his office. how he'd try and talk bout his own life in an attempt to get you to stay in his office more...

if anything, he acts more like a possessive boyfriend than your doctor.

though you suppose he's just a little eccentric like that. he's a reputable doctor. everyone loves him, and so do you! he's treated you numerous times and his checkups are always so thorough. surely you can just let his... odd behaviour slide.

today you're coming in for a body checkup. lately you've been feeling dizzy and warm despite it being the middle of winter. you wonder if it's because you've gotten ill or someone's poisioning you. after all, there's been some weird holes in your arm whenever you wake up lately.

your excellent doctor has scheduled you in at 4.30 in the afternoon. he was busy earlier today, he says. you understand, he's a busy doctor. your spouse hasn't ended their shift yet so you came in alone. they haven't been answering your texts since they left home earlier today. you can only hope that they've been busy, you'll ask them when they come home.

entering his office, you are met with his polite smile and his melodious voice.

"please sit."

you obey, sitting down in the seat in front of him as you fiddle with your fingers. your doctor looks rather... distracted today. his usually tidy hair is a mess, his glasses wet as though they had just been cleaned.

"it seems that you are feeling warm and under the weather. do you have any other symptoms, my dear?"

"yes... i've been feeling rather..."

you pause, not knowing how to say it.

"aroused?"

you nod. your doctor seems to know you so well.

he hums, going back to his screen before putting on a pair of medical gloves and gesturing for you to lay down on the bed nearby. you oblige. hopefully he'll figure out what's going on with your body.

he starts off normally, prodding and pressing against certain areas of your body. you answer accordingly when he asks you whether they hurt, whether you feel weird or not. it's like any other medical examination.

"so how's your lover been?"

small talk. you realize he's always been a big fan of small talk. asking about your life, humming and smiling as he replies with answers about his own life too. sometimes he says something personal about your life, like how you go shopping on saturdays with your lover or how you sleep with the lights off. you wonder how he knows, is he stalking you? but you shake your head at the thought. you must've told him and forgot.

"they've been... fine. haven't texted me back yet unfortunately."

"mn, i see."

silence washes over the two of you as he continues prodding and touching you. his touches linger, soft and almost as though he was yearning to touch you even more. his tone of voice was nonchalant, like he didn't care.

you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"um..."

"hm?"

"i-i... i guess i'm worried about them. ever since they went out to work in the morning they haven't replied..."

"i am aware."

you remain quiet after that, pursing your lips as you ignore the way his touches have you growing progressively more turned on. you figure it must be a side effect of your condition.

"my dear, can you tell me what you feel what i touch you here?"

"huh? w- h-hey..."

you let out a soft moan as his gloved hands caress your clothed thighs. calm down, he says. it's just a part of the examination. you shudder slightly, squeezing your eyes shut. you feel the warmth in you grow as he continues to gently caress your thighs.

he's right, it's just a medical examination. he wouldn't touch you like that. plus, you have a significant other already. you shouldn't be feeling like this because of his touches. it's wrong.

you exhale shakily, fluttering your eyes open as you stare at him.

"i-it feels nice..? it makes the warmth worse, doc."

"i see... what about over here?"

you let out a gasp, eyes widening so wide you were sure they'd pop out of your skull. where... were his hands touching? surely you're dreaming?

but you weren't. when you looked down, you could clearly see his hands on your nether regions, gently groping and caressing the area.

"w-what are you-"

"i am merely testing to see which parts of your body react to my touch. please do not worry, my dear. this is all medical procedure."

"but it's my-"

"shh... i know. does it feel good? what do you feel?"

you shiver under his touch, whimpering softly as you try sitting up. were you overthinking it? he's just your doctor. this is part of the examination, it's fine.

yet you feel as though his touches have a deeper and more sinister meaning behind them.

"please don't-"

"why not? i've seen your significant other touch you like this multiple times. you've always reacted wonderfully under their touch."

"h-huh?"

your doctor pauses, eyes widening slightly before he lets out a chuckle. his hands continue palming and caressing your privates, almost as though he was... toying with you. with every touch you feel yourself getting more and more worked up, cheeks flushing even more.

"oh dear, i haven't told you have i? i've been keeping a close eye on you... i thought you'd have figured it out by now. your lover certainly has."

you squeeze your eyes shut as his touch, your mind growing fuzzy. what.. did he say? you can't quite understand... all you can feel is how bothered you're getting and how you want him to touch you even more.

"i am pleasantly surprised with how well you are reacting to my touch. i never expected you to react so positively to the drug."

"d-drug? ah... no... don't grope me like that..."

he continues palming at your clothed privates, a calm smile on his face. you can faintly make out the way his cheeks were turning red and the hardening of his pants.

"right, i did tell them not to tell you... my dear, your significant other has left you."

"no... what are you... talking about doc? hah... how would you know anyway..?"

"oh, because i told them to. i gave them some money a few months back and they've been working for me up until... today."

if you were a little more sober, you would've pushed him away and ran for your phone. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had been injected with last night has reduced you into a needy thing desperate for his touch.

"what did you do-"

"well my dear, didn't you notice the injection marks in your arm? your significant other had been administering you with tiny dosages of this particular drug i've given them. it's supposed to make you feel good."

"g-good..?"

you hear your doctor chuckle, his hands moving away from your sensitive parts. only to quickly undo the buckle of your pants and slip his hand down on your newly exposed skin.

your breath hitches, hips instictively bucking against his hand as you let out a low whine. you can't think anymore. your brain is so muddled with feeling good that you aren't even worried or disgusted by what he's saying. all you want is him, him, him. he makes you feel good.

"yes my love, good. aren't you feeling good right now?"

"mn mhm!"

you nod your head eagerly as his hands gently toy with your sex, rubbing and fondling you gently. he continues smiling down at you, pleasuring you with his fingers before pulling away. you whimper, face hot and red as you desperately try and pull him back. why would he do that? he was just making you feel so good...

"haha, you want me to continue touching you?"

you nod again. your doctor grins widely at your words, taking off his gloves before you hear the clink of his belt hit the floor.

"well, i suppose i'll get on with my second part of the medical examination now then."

[avocado-writing]

I'd like to think that Logan is the best weather detector. His bones are bow metal he just feels when it's about to rain or snow, whenever the fronts change.

“It’s gonna rain.”

“What?” you ask, glancing up from your phone where you’ve been googling the best places to grab dinner. Logan stares at the sky, nostrils flaring just a bit, scenting the air like he’s an animal. 

It’s really cute. You have to resist the urge to boop his nose. You don’t imagine he’d be too thrilled at that, though, so you remain strong. 

“I can tell,” he mutters. Looking up, the sky seems bright and clear.

“Are you sure?”

“Never wrong about this stuff, bub. I can feel it in my bones.”

He says it with such seriousness that you can’t help but laugh. He turns to you and cocks an eyebrow, and you attempt to swallow your reaction. God, he’s so sexy, you don’t know how you can stand it. 

“Okay, well, weather-boy, I’m not too worried. You still wanna go out and eat or what?”

“Sure,” he says in that slightly smug manner where he knows he’ll win out in the end. 

Two and a half hours later, well-fed and slightly wine drunk, you’re standing in the doorway of the restaurant, watching the downpour as you unsuccessfully try to hail a taxi. 

“Don’t say a word, Howlett,” you harrumph, but his self-satisfied grin is worth a thousand of them.  God, it makes you want to slap it off his face. You never would, of course… that is unless he asked you to very nicely. 

“Doesn’t look like any of those cabs are stopping,” he remarks, with an exaggerated sigh designed to annoy you. It’s no use. Looks like they’re all taken up by people who also fell foul of the weather… but they didn’t have their own personal forecast machine to warn them against being outside in the first place. 

You shiver. You wish you’d taken a coat. You feel really damn stupid right now, and it makes you ache a bit that Logan has to witness it. 

Suddenly you’re aware of a heavy warmth around your shoulders. You look up to where Logan’s taken off his leather jacket and wrapped it around you; it smells of cigar smoke and pine, and you bury yourself into it, enjoying the feeling of being totally engulfed in him. 

“Thanks,” you mutter shyly. The smile he gives you this time is sincere and affectionate. 

“C’mon, we’ll walk. It’s not that far back.”

“But you’ll get wet…!” you protest, feebly. Logan turns back to you and you take him in properly, all 6’2” of him in his jeans and far too tight white t-shirt.  Suddenly the image of him absolutely drenched appears in your mind like it was snipped from your dirtiest dream. The way the cotton would cling to his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination…

“Oh no, I’m sure you’d hate that,” he says with a smirk, as if he’s read your thoughts. He holds out a hand to you and you take it eagerly, giggling as he drags you into the rain. 

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[spiritsdiary]

— FIRST DATE with TYLER OWENS

wc: 788 | content: description of intense weather (??)

you had made the mistake of issuing a challenge to tyler owens: “impress me.”

and tyler owens would be damned if he backed down from a challenge.

so he got you flowers and brought you along to thursday rodeos with his crew, and he must have talked to your mama too, because how else he could’ve figured out where to get your favorite pie was beyond you.

“nothing ever throws you off, does it?” you asked him the fifth time he showed up at your door, armed with a box of pie and that damn smile.

he had simply shrugged before reciting his stupid mantra at you. “if you feel it, chase it.”

he laughed when you shut the door in his face. you’d be lying if you said weren’t laughing yourself when you opened the box, grabbed a fork, and dug in, the dessert tasting a little sweeter than usual.

while it was nice, you’d grow bored of this routine eventually, and tyler seemed to know that, too. but he had an idea, and while it was stupid as all hell, he was willing to take his chances.

you barely pulled the door open when he spoke.

“i wanna take you out tonight.” well. that was new.

“it’s not thursday,” was all you could think to say in response.

“i know a spot,” he’d said, completely unfazed, with a cheeky wink and a tip of his hat, and really, you should’ve known what he meant.

because why wouldn’t you now find yourself in the passenger seat of tyler’s truck as he veers off the road directly towards a tornado?

“tyler owens, are you crazy?!” you exclaim, the only response being a bout of wild laughter as he throttles it even faster. “you better not be filming this!”

“you kiddin’?” he gestures to the cameras mounted above the windshield. “don’t worry, this’ll be just for us. we can look back on this in ten years and laugh.”

“if we live,” you mumble to yourself, glad of the wind, rain, and tyler’s blaring radio.

he looks at you for a moment, though, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “you ready?”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. “hell yeah, tornado wrangler.”

“‘s what i like to hear, baby,” he says, rolling to a stop in the middle of the field. “and now… we wait.”

“next time, just say you wanna drive me into a tornado.”

“next time?” he raises his eyebrows at you as he flips a few switches and anchors the truck.

“you’re insane,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“i’m startin’ to think that you like that about me,” he replies, nodding to the tornado only feet away as he makes sure your harness is secure. “better hold on to somethin’.”

you should be scared, but when you grab on to tyler’s hand, fueled by adrenaline and exhilaration, you just feel a sudden calm. like you belong here, with him, in his truck, getting hit head on by a tornado.

and maybe that’s why you let him kiss you.

the tornado swirls around the truck, the wind screaming so loudly you can barely hear his music, and you lean into him even though the harness digs into your shoulders. his kiss is gentle, respectful, and you can feel him smiling as you kiss him back, only pulling away to touch your forehead to his.

the winds of the tornado rock the truck, debris pelting the outside, but you’re too wrapped up in tyler to even care. you breathe him in until the sound of the storm begins to dissipate and the beating of your heart fades in your ears.

“you can open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you lean back into your seat.

his voice spurs you into action, laughing as you undo your harness and jump out of the truck. he’s quick to follow you, smiling proudly as you let out a loud whoop.

“told you i knew a spot.”

“tyler owens…” you say his name again, slowly turning to look at him where he leans against his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“yeah?”

you could blame his tight jeans, or his backwards cap, or that damn smile of his for what you do next, but in the end you do it solely because you want to.

because you want him.

you run up to him, your hand bumping against the brim of his cap as you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, pressing him back against the hood.

and when his hands take hold of your hips, his mouth insistent against yours, you know that however you challenge him, he’ll always be crazy enough to impress you.

good evening twisters/tyler owens nation, i am officially throwing my hat in the ring 🥰

m.list

© qimirdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[bright-molina]

fearless

tyler owens x reader synopsis: tyler comes home to find you not pleased whatsoever with his latest tornado wrangling trip warnings: none! although it is not edited, that's a later problem a/n: I NEED HIM IN A WAY THAT IS CONCERNING TO FEMINISM (this is my way of asking everyone to pretty please send me requests i literally cannot get him off of my mind its fine) song rec: fearless by taylor swift, it belongs to him actually

Tyler knows something is wrong when you stay standing on the porch, not moving a single muscle. You just stare at him silently, arms crossed tightly in front of you, as he gets out of his truck. He doesn’t move either, so used to the way you always sprint to him in a whirlwind the second his feet touch the ground.

Finally, he opens his arms and flashes you a smile and there’s a look on his face so soft it’s practically a silent plea for you to come to him. “Hi, baby.”

You don’t move. Not then, not when he drops his arms and pouts, and not even when he walks towards you instead declaring how much he missed you. You simply keep staring at him as he closes the distance, finally stepping onto the bottom step of the weather beaten porch.

You’re nearly his height like this and it’s incredibly easy for Tyler to uncross your arms, take your hands, and pull them around his neck. He in turn wraps his own around your waist and pulls you in close, breathing you in for just a moment.

“I missed you.” He repeats, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair on instinct and he sighs, a little bit in relief and a little bit content with the feeling.

“You’re an idiot, Tyler Owens,” you tell him after a moment as you press a kiss to his shoulder and pull him in a little tighter.

Tyler knows you missed him too when you say it. You kiss him again, on his cheek this time, as he starts pulling away and tells you, “I know.”

You don’t look away from him. Your eyes scan his face as your hands slip from around him to hold it in your hands, gently tipping his head side to side to take him in completely. There’s an already healing cut on his cheek and you trace your fingers over it softly. The memory of the video playing on the screen of your laptop is clear and your breath hitches a little bit in the same way it did then.

And Tyler sees it all. He doesn’t quite know what he agreed to being an idiot about but he’s sure you're right. He can see the fear lingering in your eyes, can feel the gentle way you touch him, silently testing to see if he’s really there. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours for a second before he takes it and kisses the back of it, green blue eyes never leaving yours as he does so.

You hear the soft patter of the rain start again before you can scold him some more and one glance behind him confirms the sight you knew you’d find. It’s falling gently, barely making a noise as it hits the ground outside the comfort of your covered porch. Tyler notices it too, letting his head tip backwards a bit to get a good look at the heavy storm clouds passing over.

When he turns back to you he has a wicked grin on his face and your eyes go wide. You forget every single fear, every worry, every bit of leftover irritation and anger. It all falls away and you try to hide the bubble of excitement that flutters deep inside you as you make a halfhearted effort to plant your feet in place.

“Tyler, no,” You shake your head as you feel his hands slip into yours. He takes a step back and one small tug has you falling forward and onto the step he’d just been standing on. “I’m trying to be mad at you, you can’t drag me out here!”

“Yes I can,” He takes another step and pulls you with him, both of you now standing in the rain already starting to fall a little faster. He drops your hands and takes a couple steps back, hoping you’d follow him further into it. “I just did.”

“This is my best dress, it's gonna get soaked if the rain picks up.”

“Well then I guess you’ll just have to let me take it off you when we go inside, won’t we?” Tyler’s smile softens and he holds out one of his hands again. “C’mon sweetheart, dance with me.”

He jumps forward suddenly, right into a puddle already forming, and the water splashes all over you. Your laugh rings out clear all around him and he thinks nothing in the world could be better than this moment right here with you.

You take his hand and he immediately spins you once and you swear you’ve never felt more content than in that moment. Head tipped back to look at the sky, rain already quickly soaking you to the bone, Tyler holding on to you tightly. There’s a deep rumble that echoes through the world around you as thunder sounds off in the distance. It doesn’t scare you in the slightest.

The rain keeps falling, keeps picking up the longer you and Tyler stay underneath it. You keep dancing, alone and together, keep kicking the water from the puddles at each other and keep laughing together like nothing was ever wrong.

Eventually the rain starts slowing down again and the song playing in Tyler’s head seems to end. He takes your hand one more time, twirling you underneath his arm again before spinning you into him and catching you with ease. One of his arms falls around your waist and dips you back while the other keeps holding your hand in his own.

A moment passes where he looks for any kind of uncertainty in your eyes. Any sign that something might really be wrong. He looks for hesitation in you but he doesn’t find any. The longer he keeps looking at you with that look, so concerned and caring and full of so much love, the dizzier you get. He’s so close and he could kiss you at any second and it’s all you’ve been craving since the moment he left and the butterflies in your stomach are getting harder to control and he was gone but he’s here now and he’s safe.

And you sigh a little bit. You don’t move. “I watched your live stream when you were out there.”

Tyler understands everything in that moment. He understands why you were upset with him and knows why you didn’t jump into his arms and why you’re looking at him the way you are now, still a little bit scared through the relief.

That’s when he kisses you. He kisses you long and slow and deep enough to make you let out one of those little noises he loves pulling from you so much. It grounds you, he knows by the way you grip onto his shirt a little tighter. You pull back first and stare at him again. He drops your hand and instead puts his own on the small of your back, tugging you even closer. Close enough that the two of you start leaving your mark on the rain, the shadows of it starting to morph to fit around you.

“You promised me you’d stay safe.”

“And I was,” Tyler brushes loose strands of your hair, now wet and sticking to you, back behind your ear and tries to offer you a reassuring look. “For the most part. I tried the hardest I could.”

You shake your head immediately and resist the urge to step back from him. “That’s not good enough, Ty.”

“We just,” He hears the words you don’t say loud and clear. I need you. Here. With me. He’s at a loss for a second, realizing that maybe it was always like this when he was gone. Maybe you always worried and just didn’t always show it. “We weren’t expecting it to get bigger, that’s all that happened.”

“Tyler,” You shake him a little bit, bringing him out of his own thoughts with another kiss. The need to feel him as much as he always said he needed to feel you while he was gone became overwhelming. “I saw your truck flip over. You got hurt and it could’ve been a lot worse than it was”

“Some loose debris knocked us out of place, I’m okay, sweetheart,” Tyler tries offering you a smile to prove his point but it doesn’t work. So instead he loosens his hold on you, twirling you in the rain one more time before placing his hat right on top of your head as he pulls you in again. He laughs at the look you’re wearing, unamused as the raindrops trail down your face as you look up at him.

The sound of his laugh echoing around you louder than the rain and thunder, pulls a smile from you again. “You make it really hard to stay angry at you, did you know that?”

“It’s cause you love me so much.”

“I don’t know why I do,” You can feel the fabric of the dress you’d put on, Tyler’s favorite that you had very much chosen on purpose, sticking to you now. One look at the clouds above you tells you the rain has no intention of stopping any time soon. “Can we go inside now or did you want to stay out here all day long?”

“You know I’d stay anywhere with you, sweetheart.”

“Of course you would,” The smile stays on your face as you roll your eyes at him, finally unraveling yourself from his hold on you. “Well I’m going inside, your choice whether you wanna follow or keep playing in the rain.”

“Wait,” Tyler stops you before you can turn around completely. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back abruptly, kissing you again before you can get another word about. It’s heavier this time as his lips move against yours. Filled with a need so intense he thinks it’ll consume him and burn the rain right off his body. He keeps kissing you until he can’t breathe anymore and when he pulls away his head drops to rest his forehead against yours, eyes wide open and staring directly at you so you hear his words. “I also promised I’d always come home to you, didn’t I?”

Your words sound as breathless as you feel. “You did.”

One more kiss, a way to plant the words he’s saying to you firmly into place. “I haven’t broken that promise yet and I have no intention of ever doing so.”

Just like that you believe him. Every single fear left over in your body from the last few days slips away. There’s nothing left there but you and Tyler and the knowledge you have that he’s always gonna be right there at your side. He’s wild and fearless and too smart for his own good. He dances with you in the middle of storms and makes you worry sometimes when he drives right into them but you watch every trip he takes without fail and every single time he comes home to you.

And you really don’t know how it could get any better than this.

tagging: @nerdalicios

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

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Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.”��

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

daryl dixon taglist: @katrina765 @hp-hogwartsexpress @ellablossom @alexxavicry (open!)

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[berritart]

thinking abt phone sex with abbyyyy #plz

abby could hear your hitched breathing through the phone, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

you were a mess, and she wish she could see how you were right now. the bottom hem of your nightgown held high up by your teeth, your fingers tracing over your clit through your panties. it was definitely a sight.

"need you abby..." you whined through the phone, wanting nothing more than to have your girlfriend between your legs. it was definitely ovulation time for you. you're usually horny but you would always handle it yourself. you never got to the point where you would have to call your girlfriend to get off, especially this early in the morning. it was only 10 am.

"what do you need me to do baby?" she asked, closing her journal. she got up from her desk and got in bed. she wanted all her attention on you, deciding to cut her study session short.

"just talk to me." you slip your hand under your panties, your cold fingers causing you to whimper in your phone. your noises were fucking with abby already. she wishes she was tongue deep in your cunt right now, making her girl feel good. unfortunately the snow gotten worse overnight and the roads unsafe to drive on. the weather was keeping a barrier between you two.

"what's going on in that pretty little head of yours right now?" abby whispers, unbuttoning her jeans. she began playing with the waistband of her boxers, craving a response from you. she waited, only hearing whines full of need. "c'mon baby tell me."

"t-thinking about your fingers..." you draw circles against your clit, jolting from the contact. "how thick they a-are..." you could literally hear abby grinning on the other side of the phone, enjoying every second of your phone call.

abby felt the warmth in the pit of her stomach get worse. she was so close to becoming the state you're in but it's all about you right now. she could hold off for a bit longer but her sweet thing can't. "and what else angel?" you mewl at the pet name, plus the feeling of your finger slipping inside your pussy. it was too much to handle, your teeth basically chewing off your bottom lip. you needed your girlfriend bad.

you lean the phone against your ear, your hand now groping on your tits through the fabric. "mmm... 'n h-how they reach all the right spots..." you gasp, your pointer and thumb pinching your sensitive nipple. "s'much better than mines."

"you wanna know what i'm thinking?" abby says lowly as she palms herself through her boxers. "'m s-so close baby." you borderline wail, your movements getting sloppier and sloppier. "im thinking about having that pretty pussy rocking back and forth on my tongue." abby's hand picks up the pace, her mouth holding back a whimper. "then when she's ready, when i think she's ready, i'll fuck her nice and slow on my strap. how's that sound sweet girl?"

"s-so so good- fuckfuckfuck i'm cumming." your fingers curl in your sopping cunt before pulling out. your climax washes over you violently, your moans and abby's name being suffocated by your pillow.

"there we go...good girl." abby praises, pulling her hand from her boxers and jeans. you try and catch your breath, hard breathing traveling through to the other line. "miss you so bad abby..."

abby checks the state outside, the sun slowly but surely coming out to melt the thick inches of snow. it was definitely going to take a while for all the snow to melt but for abby? at this rate?

"don't worry baby i'll be there soon."

[rafeandonlyrafe]

daddy

words: 8.8k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, stepdad!rafe, pervy!rafe, rafe meets reader when theyre 17 but nothing happens until 18, lots of use of daddy, taboo sex, age gap (rafe is early 30s reader is newly 18) scammer!rafe??, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, breeding, male and female receiving oral, fingering, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, lots of pet names (little one, little baby, baby girl, etc), reader is described as small chested and feels insecure about it, manipulation, power dynamic holy shit thats a lot of warnings

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

rafe wasn't sure what to expect when he learned his newest mark had a 17 year old daughter. 

he had long been cast out by his father, ward keeping him far away from the cameron investments, but he still carried the name. 

rafe had found a new way to fortune, one that allowed him to rely on his natural talents, good looks and charm. he flirted with wealthy (usually older) women until they agreed to a date, then had them fall so completely in love that they married rapidly without prenup only for rafe to divorce them later and take a hefty sum away from them.

he already repeated he process three times in a little under five years. he was worried about the reputation he would get, if the rich women of the outer banks and surrounding areas would discover his scheme and he would be out of luck, so when a new divorced mother of one moved in to a sprawling mansion, rafe was quick to greet her and turn he flirt on.

the first time he saw you he was shocked how different you looked from your mother. he pictured her daughter to be a miniature version of herself, bold and chatty, flaunting tacky jewelry and guady animal print.

but you were almost the stark different. sharing the same bouncing head of curly hair was where the similarities seemed to end. it was a ‘family pool party’ where rafe first saw you. it was more of an excuse for your mother to bring her friends around and show off her new younger boy toy who was just head over heels for her.

you greeted rafe with a quiet hello before retreating back into the shade, covered in a pale yellow sundress, but the blue of your bikini straps were peaking out, making rafe hopeful that you would get into the pool, but you spent the entire party under the shade of the balcony while your mother paraded him around.

he found a quiet moment while she was distracted with her margarita to slip away, coming to sit next to you on the soft white jacquard couch, another symbol of your mother's wealth, having such an expensive piece of furniture outside without a care if it dirtied or got ruined my the frequent bad weather.

“hello little one.” rafe says softly, afraid by the look on your face that he would startle you into running and hiding.

“hi rafe.” you whisper, hands twisting in your lap as nerves turn in your stomach. he's the first man your mom has dated since her divorce, and you're glad to see her happy, but rafe is not what you were expecting. your mother told you her new boyfriend was young, but you didn't expect early 30s when your mother is pushing 50. “my mom has told me a lot about you.”

it's not exactly a lie, she has gone on and on when she gets home from dates with rafe, it's just that you've gotten very used to tuning your mother out.

“yeah, she's told me a lot about you too.” rafe leans in closer, “why don't you tell me a bit more?”

“i-i-um.” you stutter over your words, eyes shooting down to your lap after making brief eye contact.

“do i make you nervous, y/n?” rafe asks, practically purring your name out.

you laugh awkwardly, tucking your hair behind your ear as you fein a sudden interest in the partygoers to give you an excuse of something to look at. “everyone makes me nervous.” you whisper. it's not like rafe doesn't already know, you're sure he can tell from your behavior. you have a lot of issues after your dad abandoned you and your mom, and it manifested mostly in anxiety.

“oh, poor baby.” rafe pouts, placing his hand on your chin and turning you to face him, not letting you avoid the eye contact.

“im not a baby.” you say, eyes flickering all over rafes face as you take in the details close up, his powerful cheekbones and shining eyes. “i turn 18 next month.”

“oh yeah?” rafe releases your chin, and you somehow gain the confidence to keep looking at him, drinking in his features. “are you going to invite me to your party?”

“im not going to have a party.” you say, like it's obvious.

rafe goes to push back, starting to argue “but a pretty little thing like yourself-” when your mother cuts him off with a yell of his name, making both of your heads snap to her, where she's waving rafe over to introduce him to a new friend that just entered the backyard.

rafe sighs, slipping his hand onto your lap and giving your thigh a squeeze before standing up. he looks back before he walks away, again maintaining eye contact as he says “it was nice to meet you y/n. ill be seeing you a lot more from now on.”

and rafe keeps true to his word. he continues to swoon your mom, but makes a point to spend time with you as well. your mom sees it as a show of how serious he is about the relationship, she doesn't realize how rafe looks at you.

“your birthday is this weekend?” rafe questions, but it's more of a statement. he takes a strand of your hair and twirls it around your finger, unable to keep his hands away.

“yeah.” you whisper, trying to pay attention to the project you were working on, your sketchbook sat in your lap, angled so rafe couldn't see what you were drawing.

“and you still don't want a party? what do you want to do then little one?” rafe kept using the nickname, even after you pushed back that you are almost a legal adult and not little.

“i don't even have any friends here.” you sigh, almost wishing you were back in high school so you could have a way to meet people your age. “they're all back in california.” 

you send out a silent curse to your father, and your mother. your father for leaving you, and your mother for reacting to it by moving across the country to the opposite coast, escaping the pain and embarrassment in favor of you losing all your friends and everything you knew.

“what are you going to do for your birthday then?” rafe asks as you start to draw again, finding it easier to talk when your charcoal pencil is also moving against the page.

“probably nothing. maybe see a movie.” you shrug. you've gotten used to doing things on your own. despite mostly staying in the house, you did occasionally need breaks from the same scenery, and more aptly, your mother. you always hoped you'd meet someone your age, but even when you were out doing things solo and saw other teens, you couldn't bring yourself to speak to them, your shyness winning the battle over wanting friends.

“i'll come with you, little one.” rafe offers. he was close to getting a ring on your moms finger, in record time. the divorce made her not only vulnerable but also needy to replace the husband figure in her life, not realizing that all of rafes money came from running this same scam. he could use hanging out with you on your birthday to his advantage, showing your mother how serious he is about the relationship.

“okay.” you whisper, hand shaking causing you to mess up the drawing, excited and nervous for the weekend. it's not that you dislike spending time with rafe, he just makes you nervous, like any ridiculously good looking man would.

“i’ll see you saturday then.” rafe says, standing up as your mom enters the room, now dressed and primped, ready to go on the date rafe was whisking her away on.

you keep your eyes trained on your sketchbook as rafe greets your mother with a kiss, and you cringe knowing her tacky red lipstick is going to leave a stain on his mouth, but you don't look up to see.

--

“hi little baby.” rafe greets you after sending your mom out for a spa day, giving you time to go see a movie together. you don't even care that your mom is away on your birthday, you rather spend it this way.

“hi rafe.” you say, not bothering to correct him that you are in fact 18 now and not little or a baby.

rafe surprises you when he wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a hug. you freeze up, not used to the intimate contact. your dad never hugged you his way, and your mom was never very affectionate either. 

“happy birthday.” rafe purrs into your ear, burying his head in your hair, nuzzling into the curls.

“thanks.” you mumble, keeping your arms flat against your sides as rafe pulls away. you definitely didn't have the confidence to hug him back.

rafe stays quiet as he leads you out the door with a steady hand on your back, making you shiver as goosebumps rise up your arms despite the warm north carolina air. he even gives you a hand to help you up into his truck.

“do you want to get dinner first, pretty baby?” rafe asks you as he starts up the truck and shifts it into gear. you feel your cheeks flame at the name, wriggling your hands together in your lap in nervousness.

“no.” you whisper, and you're surprised rafe can hear you over the sound of his truck. “i, um-” you pause to clear your throat. “i don't want to get full on food and not want popcorn. maybe we can go after.” 

“sounds good.” rafe says, even though you don't really want to be spending more time with him. it's not that you don't want your mom to be happy, but it's weird to see her with someone other than your dad.

rafes hand slides across the center console, gripping your thigh through your jeans. you tense your leg in surprise at the contact, expecting him to squeeze and then let go, but rafe keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride there. 

“hold on, i’ll open the door for you, birthday girl.” rafe says after pulling into a parking spot. you wait for rafe to walk around the hood, tugging to door open and giving you a hand out that you graciously accept, willing to put up with the physical contact so you don't risk falling and embarrassing yourself even worse.

rafe leads you into the theatre, and he orders the tickets and popcorn for you, knowing how much you hate talking to others, especially service workers.

“im so excited to see this movie!” you say, taking your seat towards the back of the theatre, rafe setting the popcorn on the armrest in between the two of you. he's surprised to see how genuine your statement is, finally opening up and showing a bit of your emotions.

“if you're excited, then im excited too little one.” rafe says, grabbing a piece of popcorn and sticking it in his mouth.

--

“y/n i want to ask you something.” rafe calls, stopping your quick ascent up the stairs as you tried to flee before he or his mother stopped you. 

“okay.” you mumble, walking back down the couple stairs you had managed to make it up.

“in private.” rafe clarifies, and you glance between him and your mom, but she just nods that it's okay before turning to the kitchen, becoming distracted by finding herself some wine to drink.

“we can talk if your room if it makes you more comfortable.” rafe says, and you blanche at the idea. no one ever goes in your room, not your mom or even the maids.

“how about the study?” you offer instead, your second favorite location in the house, with cherry wood bookshelves covering every one of the walls and two plush couches in the middle providing a comfortable reading area.

rafe places his hand on your back, fingers playing with the material of your sweater as you walk to the study. upon entering, you flick on a lamp and sit down on one of the couches, hoping rafe will take the one across from you, but of course he slides right next to you, pressing your thighs together.

“what is it you want to talk about?” you ask, your heart beat somehow remaining steady. you realize it's because you've become more comfortable around rafe, even if his touches did still send a jolt through your body.

“ive really been enjoying spending time getting to know you, little one.” rafe places a hand on your thigh, just under where your shorts end. he looks down, marveling how soft your skin is and how small your legs are compared to his hand. “your mother as well, of course.” rafe adds, almost like she's an after thought.

“i was hoping that you would want to spend more time with me. i would like to ask your permission to ask your mother to marry me.”

your eyebrows shoot up at the question. rafe has only been dating your mom for around five months now, and marriage this soon after a divorce seems like such a rush decision, but who are you to judge? you've never been married, you've never been in love.

“i-i guess that would be okay.” you see how happy rafe makes your mom, who are you to deny her that happiness?

“thank you.” rafe smiles, hand moving higher until he's tucked in between your thighs, feeling the heat radiating from your core. he strokes over your thigh as you spread your legs ever so slightly, giving him more space to work. your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the pleasure and rafe hasn't even touched over your underwear yet, just focusing on your inner leg.

“gonna be your new daddy.” rafe hums, his voice bringing you out of the trance that his hands put you in.

you stand up suddenly, making rafe frown as you run out of the study and up to your bedroom, slamming the door shut and heading over to your desk, looking at the drawing of rafe that you had just finished. you take the piece of paper and turn it face down, not wanting to think about him at the moment, wondering when he is going to propose to your mother.

--

“i can dress myself.” you say, looking at the sparkly pink dress hanging on the back of the door, decorated in fabric petals to signify your role as flower girl, even though you told your mom that you were okay not being part of the wedding party, she insisted that you had to participate in her special day.

“your mother specifically asked me to help you get dressed. what kind of future husband would i be if i didn't listen to her?” rafe raises his eyebrows, already dressed in his wedding suit.

“can you turn around then?” you question, gesturing for him to turn, face out the window of the venue your mother had rented for the wedding. the grounds are beautiful, filled with flowers and neatly trimmed bushes.

“what if something happens, baby?” rafe shakes his head. “i can't help you if im turned around.”

“you want me to get undressed in front of you?” you squeal.

“come on, im about to be your dad.” rafe says softly. “besides, im just helping you into your dress. unless you want me to help you take those clothes off too?”

“no!” you shake your head, looking one more time to rafe to see if he's going to look away, but he makes no move to as you pull you unbutton your shirt, careful not to have worn a shirt that required pulling off over the head since your hair and makeup is already done. 

you're thankful for the simple bra covering your breasts as you keep your eyes on the floor, tugging your pants off. 

rafe stands up straight from his position leaning over he armoire and grabs your dress, lowering it to the ground so you can step in, having already unzipped it in preparation.

you step in quickly, wanting to get covered again as soon as possible, feeling the burn of rafes stare on your scantily clad body, but for your fast movements, rafe is slow, gliding the dress up your body, hands occasionally brushing against your bare skin until the neckline is finally in its proper place.

rafe rounds your body, tugging the zipper up, again letting his finger drag against your skin all the way up.

“you look so beautiful.” rafe ducks his head, kissing your shoulder. you gasp at his lips on you, leaning back into his body as your mind goes dizzy.

“can't wait to be your daddy.” rafe presses another kiss to the space between your shoulder and neck before standing straight, wrapping his hand around yours. 

“let me walk you outside, little princess.” rafe is glowing, and you know logically it must be because of his wedding day to your mom, but a large part of you hopes that it's also because he's excited for you as well. 

--

“how does a boat day sound, little one?” rafe asks, tugging on your curl that had fallen in front of your face.

“i thought mom had a facial today?” you question, closing your book after slotting the bookmark to save your page.

“she does, i thought the two of us could go. some daddy daughter bonding time.” rafe says, always making a point to have solo time with you since he got married to your mom two months ago.

“okay, that sounds fun.” you nod, wanting an excuse to lay out and tan, and you've found yourself loving spending time with rafe, especially now that he was officially part of the family. he certainly would never replace your dad, but he's made an effort to make you more comfortable around him.

“let me help you pick out a bikini.” rafe says, and you hop up off the couch as he starts to move towards your room.

“no, rafe, that's okay.” you rush after him, taking the stairs as fast as you can.

“come on, let me see. ive never even been in your room!” rafe says, reaching for your doorknob, but you thrust yourself in front of the door, blocking him.

“i… i have my drawings on the wall. i don't want you to see them.” you bite your lip, hoping rafe doesn't push.

“drawings of me?” rafe asks, touching his fingers to your chin and tilting your head up.

“some of them.” you admit, opening the door and trying to close it before rafe can see, but he grabs the wood and forces his body in before you can slam it behind him.

you press your back into the wall as rafe scans the room. you have an entire wall decorated with your drawings taped up. most are black and white with charcoal but you've colored some in as well. there are a lot of rafe, a lot of your mom, of friends you miss that live back in california. the one rafe walks up to is a nature sketch, of the outer banks beaches that you've come to live just as much as the packed los angeles ones.

“you're so talented.” rafe says earnestly. “how come you don't show people your art?” 

“because they're just for me.” you say honestly. you've never had the urge to show your drawings to other people or pursue art further. it just wasn't something that girls in your family did. they were good wives and hostesses. they didn't have time consuming hobbies, especially if they didn't create an instant profit.

“well if you ever decide to sell anything, let me know right away. i’d pay anything to have one of your works hanging in my house.”

you don't mention that his house is now your house, considering he moved in with you right after the wedding. you're too busy blushing over the fact that he likes your art that much, what you deem just quick sketches, he thinks they're good enough to be displayed.

“now where are your bikinis?” rafe questions, moving on from the conversation, knowing you're not bold enough to change the topic yourself.

“um, hold on.” you open up your closet and grab a box out, dumping them all onto your bed. you're not sure why rafe wants to choose your swimsuit, but you don't question it.

rafe hums as he looks through the bikinis, tossing the ones he disapproves of back into the box.

“you dressed pretty slutty back in california, huh?” rafe looks at you, now moved back to your position of being pressed against the wall.

“i-” you begin to explain yourself, but rafe bursts out laughing. “don't look so scared, little one. im not angry. why don't you wear this one?” he tossed your orange bikini at you, probably the skimpiest one you own with the back being just a thong and cups barely big enough to cover your chest.

rafe doesn't say another word, exiting your room and leaving you to take a deep breath. you change into the bikini, looking at yourself in your full length mirror, surprised how much you've filled out the bikini since you last wore it a couple months ago. north carolina has done well for your appetite, filling in your stomach and plumping up your bum. you try to adjust your top to give you the illusion of bigger boobs, but it doesn't work. that's one part of you that didn't fill out at all.

you pull a coverup on over your body before you slip your feet into your sandals. rafe may have seen you in your underwear before but the various employees your mom always has around the house have not.

“ready, pretty baby?” rafe asks when you plop down the stairs, a tote bag in hand that you can see a couple water bottles sticking out of. rafe must be planning on taking the speedboat instead of the yacht, considering your mom insists on keeping it fully stocked despite not really enjoying being on the water, preferring to look at it from afar.

“very ready, d-” you pause when you realize you were about to call rafe daddy. you have just called him by his first name since he got married to your mom, but it almost slipped out anyways, some part of your subconscious associating him with that.

“it's okay, little one, if you want to call me daddy if you want to, or you can just call me rafe.” rafe says, taking your hand as he leads you out towards the dock, looking like your personal marina. you just nod on acknowledgement.

“speedboat today?” you ask as rafe leads you down.

“whatever you want.” he shrugs.

“something with a bed that i can lay and tan on?” you suggest, and rafe steers you towards the smaller of your family yachts.

you take a seat near the front of the ship as rafe goes to the helm to steer you to a secret spot he claims to know of. you pull out your sketchbook and shield it from the wind as you sketch out your view of rafe, a story up behind the dashboard of gears and gages as he drives the boat. you even include the reflection of the sun on the glass.

“here we are.” rafe anchors the boat near a sandbar with clear pale yellow sand, surprisingly devoid of any seaweed or debris.

“it's so pretty.” you say, making a mental note to sketch it before the tide rises. “it must have been so nice to grow up here.”

“mmm.” rafe nods, taking his shirt off. your eyes widen as he reveals his muscles. it's not the first time that you've seen him shirtless, but you've never been this close, and never alone.

“wanna swim before you tan kiddo?” rafe questions.

“um, yeah.” you shrug. you weren't that interested in swimming originally but now that you're at the sandbar you'd definitely like to explore.

“then you'll have to take your cover up off, show me your cute little body.” rafe says, tugging on the strap of your clothing.

“oh, right.” you hum, pulling the dress off over your head. rafe bites his lip, placing a hand on your waist. 

“how do you not have a boyfriend? with a gorgeous body like this.” rafe sighs, slowly moving his hand lower, tangling his fingers in the strings of your bikini bottoms.

“shy, remember?” you giggle, letting yourself step closer to rafe as he looks down at you.

“you're too pretty to not be appreciated properly, little baby.” rafe sighs again, like he's actually upset at the thought of you being lonely.

you suddenly remember that rafe isn't some random older guy interested in you, but your step dad. the man your mom is newly married to. you step away and to avoid speaking any more, jump over the side of the boat into the sparkling water.

--

“so just rafe and i for the next week?” you question your mom, following her around her luxurious master suite as she packs a suitcase.

“it may be two weeks.” your mother says, shoving her clothes in before turning to her wall of heels.

“why isn't rafe going with you?” you question.

“y/n.” your mother sighs, stopping her work to turn to you. “please leave me alone to pack. i have to finish this divorce settlement with your father. as much as i'd like to show rafe off to him, rafe has business he needs to tend to here in the outer banks.”

you go to question what business, considering rafe doesn't seem to do anything other than flaunt after your mother, or sneak away moments with you when she's busy, but your mother gives you a pointed look so you shut your mouth, leaving the room.

--

“itll be nice to have some alone time with my favorite little girl.” rafe says, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his side. you lean into him, reminding yourself over and over that your dad used to cuddle like this on the couch with you when you were little.

“don't you have business?” you question, letting your finger trace patterns on rafes jeans, swirling over the rough material.

“nothing that's more important then spending time with you.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you're glad he can't see your face as it turns pink.

“could we have ice cream tonight?” you ask. you've been allowing yourself more and more to indulge in sweets.

“that sounds good, honey. do you want to choose the movie?” rafe hands you the remote and you turn something on, keeping yourself resting against his warm body.

you're about halfway through the movie when your tummy rumbles. you honestly got so engrossed in the film you forgot you were even leaning up against your step dad.

“is baby girl hungry?” rafe questions. “we can pause the movie and eat some ice cream now.”

you reach for the remote and pause it, mumbling something about wanting strawberry ice cream as rafe follows you into the kitchen, opening up the freezer and pulling out strawberry for you, and vanilla for himself.

“hey kiddo, get us bowls.” rafe asks you as he gets spoons. you have to get on your tiptoes to reach the shelf the bowls are on, cursing your short mother for giving you these genes. 

you slide yourself up onto the counter as rafe hands you your now filled bowl. you barely have time to say thank you before putting the spoon in your mouth, letting out a moan as the taste hits your tongue. you've been craving ice cream all day and it's completely hitting the spot. you work quickly through the bowl, letting your satisfaction out in the forms of moans.

“stop moaning like that, baby.” rafe says, making you jump from the sudden and unusual roughness in his voice.

“‘m sorry.” you look down at your bowl of ice cream, setting it on the counter.

“it's okay.” rafe sighs, setting his bowl down as well.

“are you upset with me?” you ask, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“no, little girl, im not.” rafe frowns, moving between your legs, your face for once the same height as his with you sat up on the counter. he takes your face in his big hands, stroking the rough pad of his thumb over your cheek.

“sorry baby girl. will you forgive me?” rafe tilts your face to keep you looking at him.

“yeah.” you nod, just glad that rafe isn't annoyed with you.

“you have ice cream on your mouth.” rafe says, and you reach up to wipe it off when rafe suddenly leans in, his mouth pressing against yours, tongue flickering out and licking over your lip, tasting the strawberry ice cream as well as a taste that is simply you.

you gasp in surprise, allowing rafe to slip his tongue into your mouth. you're not sure what to do, or how to react. you've kissed before, but never one as passionate or with this much tongue involved. 

rafe presses another kiss to your lips before pulling away. your eyes are wide when he doesn't say anything to explain himself, simply looking at you.

“you just kissed me!” you say, as if he's unaware of his actions.

“i did, baby girl. did your dad not give you kisses?” he tilts his head to the side.

“maybe when i was little, and certainly not like that.” you gulp, wondering how your mom would feel if she saw that, but she wasn't home of course.

“well then it sounds like he wasn't a good father. good thing you have daddy rafe in your life now. do you want another kiss?”

“i- i think i do.” you say, licking your lips, not giving your brain any time to become reasonable and back out. 

rafe presses his lips against yours again, and you find yourself kissing back. you fist your hands in his shirt, tugging him closer as you moan into his mouth, repeating the same sinful noises from when you were eating your ice cream.

“god, baby, your moans make me so hard.” rafe says against your lips, giving you only a quick second to take a deep breath before he's back to kissing you.

“do you wanna help out your daddy?” rafe asks, moving his lips to your jaw as he kisses there.

“yes.” you answer honestly. rafe has shown you nothing but affection, something you were so severely lacking that you would do anything for him to make up for it.

“want you to suck my cock.” rafe says, making you pull away from the kiss.

“i can't do that!” you say. not to mention that you have no clue how, but you certainly can't do that with your moms husband.

“but you can, baby. it's alright. you trust me, right?” rafe hums, in which you give a little nod.

“then you can help me out. you're so beautiful, baby girl. i can make you feel good too.”

“you can?” you question, tilting your head to the side.

“i can. we can go upstairs to your bedroom if it makes you feel more comfortable. i told you this beautiful little body needed to be appreciated. remember that, kiddo? so let me appreciate you.”

“what about mom?” you question. there's no way she would be okay with this.

“we don't have to tell her. we can just say we had a lot of daddy daughter time and keep it between us. our little secret.”

you're not sure what to say. as much as you want to see what this appreciation rafe is talking about feels like, you're nervous about hurting your mom or taking things too far, after all, rafe is your step dad.

“let me just give you another kiss while you think about it.” rafe says, placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist. “just a nice daddy daughter kiss, nothing naughty about it, little one.”

rafe presses his lips against yours, and all thought you have go out the window as you kiss him back, becoming more confident in your movements the longer you go. rafe tugs you closer to the edge of the counter, and you are quick to wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to copy whatever you've learned from watching movies as well as doing what feels best.

rafe slips his tongue into your mouth again, and you cry out around it when he presses his hips forward, nestling something hard and rigid against your core.

“upstairs, please.” you whisper. 

rafe nods, wrapping his arms around your hips and lifting you easily. you don't know how he navigates the house so well while you're still kissing, too engrossed in his lips to even let him see properly to walk faster. 

he takes you to your room, your safe space that only he has been in. he sets you down on the bed, and you whine when your lips disconnect.

“shh, baby, im gonna make you feel real good soon. wanna suck daddies cock first?” rafe presses his thumb against your bottom lip, now pink and swollen from the intense make out.

“ive never done it before, i-i don't know how.” you admit, dropping your eyes to rafes crotch, the way his length is straining against his pants.

“ill teach you, baby.” rafe takes his shirt off, and you can't resist reaching out and running your hands over his smooth abs.

“you want to take your shirt off too, honey? let me see your cute little tits.”

you nod, letting rafe help you out of your shirt.

“no bra?” rafe questions, eyes widening when he realized he spent all day with you, not knowing you were bare under your shirt until now.

“its not like i need one.” you blush, going to reach to cover your chest, but rafe stops you.

“don't feel insecure, baby girl. your body is gorgeous. can i touch your chest?” rafe asks. you nod, your nipples jutting out from your skin now that they're exposed to the cold air.

rafe cups your tits, pushing what little is there up. he swipes his thumb over your nipple, making you throw your head back in pleasure. rafe smiles down at you, rubbing over your tits, feeling them with his palms, the way your nipples are hard against them.

“feels so good.” you whine, not even realizing that you had squeezed your eyes hard shut.

“i know, baby.” rafe chuckles, kneeling into the floor between your legs. “let me show you how good my mouth feels too.” rafe pulls you closer to the edge, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“oh my god, daddy!” you shout out, tangling your hands in rafes hair and holding him to your chest, never wanting the feeling to stop.

“mhm.” rafe mumbles against your skin, pressing a kiss to your nipple before gliding his tongue across your chest to the other side. “daddys gonna take real good care of you.”

“i wanna take care of you too.” you say as rafe sucks on your nipple, tugging it between his teeth gently. you hadn't forgotten the original reason you came upstairs, and want to see what you felt pressing against you earlier.

rafe straightens up, taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze before placing it over his crotch. you experiment with what makes rafe feel good as you feel him over his jeans, keeping your eyes on his face. you stroke the hard length, focusing on where you're guessing the tip is, and judging from the way rafe is groaning, it feels good.

“wanna see it.” you say, tugging on his waistband. “please.” you add in for good manners.

“oh, my baby girl, you never have to beg me.” rafe says, undoing his pants and pulling them down, stepping out and licking them away. your eyes widen when you realize there's a small wet spot on his underwear where you were focusing on earlier.

“are you ready?” rafe asks, his thumbs nudging under the waistband of his underwear.

“yes.” you nod, taking your eyes off his crotch as he drops the last layer of fabric, blinking up at rafe through fluttering eyelashes. rafe smiles at you, a soft grin reassuring you as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

you let your eyes close, focusing on the kiss as you reach out, exploring with your hands as you grasp his length, gasping into the kiss as you stroke your hand up and down. you don't know much about what you're doing, but you can tell that his cock is long and thick, you're barely able to wrap your small hand around him.

“feels so good, baby girl. making daddy so happy.” rafe says, groaning as you stroke your fingertip over the tip of his cock, collecting some of that wetness that you saw earlier.

rafe pulls away, standing back up straight as you finally look down, feeling a funny feeling in your stomach as you take in his cock, long and hard jutting away from his body, the tip a beautiful pink color that you want to capture with paint some day.

you take your fingertip into your mouth, licking over the wetness, the salty taste spreading over your tongue. 

“you can just touch for longer if you're not ready to suck me yet.” rafe says, running a hand over your hair.

you don't respond, leaning forward and taking his tip into your mouth, furrowing your brows as you try to work out what to do, flicking your tongue over the head of his cock.

“that's good, baby girl.” rafe moans, resisting the urge to thrust forward, letting you explore on your own as you pull off to lick down his length, tracing over the vein running along the underside until you get to the base and press kisses as you move back up.

you take his cock back into your mouth, trying to take as much as him as you can, only managing a few inches before you gag and pull off a little. you suck the best you can with him taking up so much space, being aware of where your teeth are and not letting them touch the sensitive skin. you'd never want to hurt rafe.

“feels so good, little one.” rafe groans, pressing his hand to the back of your head, pushing you back down onto his cock, further and further until you sputter and have to pull off with a cough.

“are you okay?” rafe questions, but you just give a quick nod before retaking him in your mouth, closing your eyes and focusing on moving up and down, even though you can't take him all the way, you focus on keeping a rhythm, repeating whatever motion makes rafe moan the loudest.

“you can use your hand too.” rafe says, taking your hand in his and wrapping it around the base of his length. you hum in acknowledgement, pulling off to lick at rafes tip to get more of the salty taste as your hand strokes up and down his cock. you kiss his very tip, almost as a thank you for your step daddy for letting you make him feel good.

“im so proud of you, my little baby.” rafe says, and you glow under his praise, sucking his cock back between your lips as you bob your head, running your tongue over him as well.

“fuck!” rafe suddenly pulls away, making you pout. 

“come back daddy.” you try to reach out for them, but rafe reaches down and squeezes his cock tightly by the base, chest heaving.

“you almost made daddy feel too good.” he says, giving his cock a quick stroke like he's unable to resist it.

“were you… going to cum?” you question, quirking your head to the side.

“and what would you know about cumming?” rafe questions, making you blush.

“ive watched movies!” you argue.

“want me to help you learn more? i can make you cum.”

“h-how?” you question. sure, you've seen movies but you haven't exactly studied the details.

“i can use my mouth and fingers to make you feel good, just like you did for me, baby girl.” rafe explains, and you don't hesitate to nod.

“gonna have to take your pants off then, baby.” rafe explains, helping you stand up on slightly shaky legs as you pull your pants down, taking your underwear with it, not wanting to waste time before rafe helps you feel good.

“why don't you lay down?” he asks, running a finger over your cheek. you nod, laying down on your bed, head against your pillows, keeping your legs pressed firmly together, worried about how wet you are in your private area.

rafe climbs onto the bed, hovering his body over yours, admiring his tiny and innocent you look beneath him, despite being completely nude. he presses down, his cock rubbing against your stomach as he captures your mouth, tongue flicking into yours. you relax into the bed, feeling safe again getting kisses from your daddy.

“spread those legs for me.” he emplores you. “let me see your pretty little pussy.”

you part your thighs, rafe moving down your body, pressing kisses to your chest and stomach as he gets closer and closer to where you are craving.

he finally settles in between your legs, hands gripping your thighs. he stares at your glistening pussy, shiny with your wetness.

rafe slowly rubs his finger over your slit before parting your lips, his breath catching when he sees all of you. he leans in tongue falling out as he licks a wide stripe over your cunt.

“oh my god, rafe!” you cry out, back arching, having never experienced such a feeling before.

“you taste delicious, kiddo.” rafe says, burying his face in your cunt as he continues lapping over your cunt, overwhelming you with pleasure.

you whine as he switches to kissing, also giving your inner thighs some attention. he places his hand at the top of your cunt, pulling up to stretch out your skin as he leans in and gives your skin a kiss in a new spot, one that makes you scream, body shaking as you attempt to move away, the pleasure too much for you to take.

“shh, it's okay.” rafe says, moving back to kissing your thighs.

“what was that?” you question, breathing heavily, causing your chest to heave.

“that was your clit, baby. kissing that is like how i felt when you were kissing the tip.” he explains, not judging you for your inexperience. “can i keep going?”

“yes, daddy, please.” 

rafe listens, but makes sure to move slowly, getting you used to his mouth in the area as he licks around your clit without directly touching it. you moan out a mix of his name and daddy, blabbing about how good it is when his tongue flicks over your clit, sending another flood of wetness over your cunt.

“good girl.” rafe says quickly, hoping that's all the praise you need to be comfortable, not wanting to take his mouth off of your pussy as he concentrates on your clit, going from holding his tongue flat against it to flicking quickly, showing you all the different types of things he can do to pleasure you.

“st-stop.” you say, trying to shove rafes head away when you feel something building in you, not wanting to topple over the edge. “it's too much!” you shout, but rafe does something new, taking your clit between his lips and sucking it in his mouth.

“im gonna- im gonna-” you sob out some sort of warning, unsure of what is actually going to happen as your sobs shift into a scream, your hips picking up off the bed as you try to squeeze them shut, but rafes hand pushes your thighs to keep them open.

you fall over whatever edge you were on, vision going black as shaking overtakes your body, and controversially to what your were trying to do earlier, you now press your cunt into rafes face as he keeps sucking, working you through your high as he pets your thighs, hoping the bit of soft loving attention helps you through it.

“oh my god, daddy.” you whine, tears streaming down your face as he pulls off, pressing a kiss to your cunt before moving up your body, pulling you against him as he flips, allowing you to rest against his chest.

“it's okay, baby, breathe.” he soothes you, his hand rubbing over your back.

“that was really good.” you tell rafe after a minute of struggling to get your breath back. “thank you daddy.” you lean in and give him a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

“want to keep going? or we can be done for tonight if that's what you need, little baby.” rafe says, wanting to take things at your pace, especially after seeing how explosive your orgasm was.

“more.” you say, slotting your leg over rafes body, pressing your chest into his, rubbing your nipples against his skin as you connect your lips, this time taking control of the kiss.

you rub your cunt against rafes abs, soaking them in your slick.

“baby-” rafe warns as you move down, rubbing your cunt over his cock.

“fuck me, daddy.” you say, wanting to feel good together.

“let me-” rafe tries to get out, but you push his cock against your hole, trying to slide down when your get a flare of pain, shouting and pulling off.

“baby girl, you have to let me finger you first. as much as i want you right now, ive got to open you up since it's your first time.” rafe explains, and you whimper out, nodding.

“come sit on my tummy, come on.” rafe tugs your hips, and you move so you're sat on his abs, leaning back slightly so your cunt is on show.

“let me know if it hurts, okay?” rafe says, his hands rubbing over your inner thighs, admiring how tiny you are even when sat on top of him.

“i will daddy.” you hum as he strokes his pointer finger over your cunt, making sure to get it thoroughly wet. he moves down to your entrance, circling it before pressing the tip of his finger against it, breaking through the tight ring of muscle. 

“oh, fuck.” you cry out, reaching behind you to grip rafes hips for stability.

rafe can move easily with one finger because of how wet you are, pushing all the way in with relative ease, but he can feel how you're still squeezing around him.

“gonna add a second, okay.” rafe gives you a warning, not wanting to take too long before he can get inside of you, needing to be buried in your cunt.

rafe pushes a second finger in, making you whine at the sudden stretch. he moves in and out with pace, not letting you focus on the pain as pleasure quickly overtakes you.

“there you go, stay nice and relaxed for me little one.” rafe says, and you make an effort to breathe and keep your legs from going taut as he scissors his fingers, thumb coming to rub over your clit when he sees your face twist in pain.

“i know it hurts, baby, but trust your daddy. gonna make it feel all better.” he says softly, wanting to pull you down into another kiss but knowing you need to focus on staying calm at the moment.

“it's okay, i do trust you daddy.” you say, voice breathy.

“love you so much.” rafe says, flicking over your clit as you cry out, never having heard rafe say the words to you before, but of course he does, he's your step dad after all. 

“please, inside me, p-please.” you moan out.

“okay, fuck-” rafe curses out. “okay.” he takes his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to clean off before flipping so you're on your back on the bed, his body hovering over yours, hips slotted between yours like he was meant to be there. 

“im gonna try and go slow.” rafe says, the key word there being try. he knows how hard it's been to resist you this long, it's going to be even harder to control himself once he's inside you.

rafe grabs his cock, rubbing the tip over your messy cunt before lining up with your entrance, sinking forward as he pushes inside of your heat. you cry out, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, needing the connection to get through this as his hips press all the way in, his cock lodged deep inside of you.

“breathe through it, baby girl.” rafe says, stroking your hips with his large hands as you take a stuttering breath, adjusting to his length inside you.

you circle your hips, brows furrowed as you get used to the sensation. you press up, then down, moving yourself while he stays still, allowing you to explore.

“i-i gotta move baby.” rafe finally says, and you nod, still keeping him squeezed close to you as his hips move back, his cock sliding almost completely out of you before pushing back in, keeping his self control by moving slowly.

“this is what a good step daddy does?” you ask, rubbing your hand over the back of his head.

“yes, i take care of you, baby.” rafe says, burying his head in your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there.

“i love you daddy.” you tell rafe, clenching your cunt around him when he starts to move faster, rafe letting a grunt out against your skin.

“so good for me, little one. our little secret.” rafe picks up speed, his cock stretching you open, making space for himself.

“can we-” you gasp out when he pushes all the way in, his hips rubbing against your clit. “can we keep doing this? even when mom gets back?” now that you've felt this level of pleasure, you don't want to go back to going without it.

“of course, baby. we just have to be careful.” he says, sucking a light hickey into your neck, one that should heal before your mom gets back.

“is it bad?” you ask, even as you spread your thighs apart more, “is it bad that we are doing this? won't mom be mad if she finds out?”

“baby, don't worry about that.” he sighs, picking his head up to look you in the eye. “just focus on how good you feel. i love you, i don't love your mom like this.”

“you don't?” you question, eyebrows raising up.

“the love a daddy feels for his little girl is different.” rafe says, pressing his cock as deep as he can inside of you, and you swear he's all the way into your stomach.

“you don't fuck her like this?” 

“no, only you. my little girl.” rafe kisses you, and you moan into the kiss, moving your legs to wrap around his hips, raising and lowering yourself to meet his thrusts.

“my little baby. my sweet girl.” rafe moans, his cock swelling inside of you. “gonna cum inside you, baby. we are gonna feel so good together.”

he moves one of the hands that's gripping your hip to your cunt, rubbing his fingers right over your clit harshly, needing you to cum at the same time as him.

“daddy-” you gasp, throwing your head back, “daddy, you can't, i'll get pregnant.”

“it's okay, little one.” rafe pants, struggling to hold himself back any longer. “cum for me. don't think about getting pregnant. you'd look so cute for me with your tummy all swelled up. gonna fill you with my cum, put a baby in you.”

“yes, yes!” you cry out, rafes fingers pushing you to the edge as his orgasm finally hits, cumming with a shake as he pumps you full, filling your cunt with all of the cum he has to offer. he keeps pumping despite feeling oversensitive, wanting to make sure he stuffs you.

“fuck, daddy!” you whine, pushing his hand away from your clit when it becomes too much.

“my good girl, shh.” rafe presses your lips together, carefully pulling his cock out of you, looking down as his cum slides out of your hole. he reaches down with one hand, ignoring your whine as he pushes his fingers, and the cum, back into your pussy. rafe smirks to himself as you moan, grasping at him with your little hands, thinking to himself that getting her innocent young daughter pregnant is the perfect way for your mom to ask for a divorce.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 7] Prisoner

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Winter comes faster than expected. Within the blink of an eye, snow begins to fall and you’re prohibited from going outside. Now more than ever, you feel trapped. 

You don’t feel any changes in the weather. The moment the temperature gets colder, Sukuna orders for more layers to be placed on you. Though you plead with Hina to let you breathe, all the layers are weighing heavily upon you, she has no option but to listen to Sukuna. Sukuna’s orders trumps all.

To add more to your suffocation, you’re bigger every day. It’s gotten to the point that you can’t see your feet, no matter how much you try. You’re prohibited from doing anything and everything, and you can’t secretly indulge since Sukuna watches your every move. 

Though lately you wake up in the middle of the night and he’s gone. You know what he’s doing, and you can’t find yourself getting upset about it. Sukuna made it clear that your marriage means nothing. To add to it, you don’t feel anything towards him. 

You would’ve sworn that at this point you’d have some sort of feelings towards Sukuna. You’re more sentimental than you’d like to admit… But Sukuna isn’t someone that you can find yourself attached to. On the contrary, you’re getting mad at his mere presence. Maybe it’s because he makes you feel like a prisoner, while he gets to freely live his life.

You wouldn’t dare go against Sukuna’s orders. That is until you’re very well into your pregnancy, and you realize that he wouldn’t dare hurt you. You know that you made a deal months back. You pretty much agreed to be his prisoner in order for him to save your brother’s life. But you’re tired.

You need a break from him just for a few hours. Which is why you wait for him to leave in the middle of the night in order to get up. Luckily, you don’t have to sneak past anyone. Since Sukuna has taken over the task of watching over you, no one bothers with keeping an eye over you. 

You can barely watch your step, but you don’t dare to take a candle because you’ll just give yourself away. You finally get a breath of fresh air before realization kicks in. What are you exactly planning? You can’t go back home to your family, it’ll just end poorly for them. 

You just need a breath of fresh air. You’ll go back inside in a matter of seconds. You need a moment where Sukuna isn’t watching your every movement. You just want to watch the snow fall, like you once did. You want to feel human, even if it’s just for minutes.

“My queen, what are you doing here?” You’re spooked by an all familiar voice. You put your hand over your fast beating heart as you turn to see your servant.

“Hina.” You acknowledge her presence before walking away. She’s assigned to you, but ultimately, she listens to Sukuna. She knows better than anyone that he won’t allow you to be here, which is why you walk away before she can speak up. 

“My queen, you’re not supposed to be out here.” She tells you, and you pretend not to listen as you walk away. You’ve gotten to know the palace like the back of your hand these past months, but it gets slightly difficult to navigate when it’s dark– And you won’t even mention the giant bump that’s grown over the past months. You’re most certainly expecting more than one baby, just as your husband wants.

“King Sukuna is going to be livid if he finds you here.” She reminds you, following behind you. She can’t restrain you, but she’ll remind you that there will be consequences if Sukuna finds out.

“Livid? He’s burying himself inside another woman. He can’t be livid that his wife is taking a short walk.” You answer, and it dawns on her. Something that you’d never admit to yourself. 

“He’s worried about the babies, aren’t you worried about them?” Hina questions and you freeze. How are you supposed to tell her that you’re not? You continue walking, deciding that not answering is the best possible option. 

“Is this because you’re jealous?” She suddenly blurts out and it’s like a switch flips inside of you. You turn around to look at her and you scoff.

“Jealous of what? That a grotesque monster is with some other woman?” You sound offended that she even dared to ask that. “Please don’t ever disrespect me like that again, Hina.”

“A grotesque monster?” You hear the chilling voice behind you, before you’re lifted off the floor by him. You’re not even given a second to defend yourself before he’s carrying you back inside.

“Sukuna! Put me down!” You yell, kicking your feet as he forcefully takes you inside. “Sukuna! Put me down! I’m ordering you to put me down!”

“What makes you think I’d listen to you?” He responds as you continue kicking your feet. You’re yelling at him to put you down on the ground, you can still use your own two feet to walk back to your room. Sukuna finally fulfills your wishes when you reach your room, gently putting you down on the floor. The moment your feet make contact with the floor, he scolds you, “What is it with you and not listening?”

“I just need a breath of fresh air. You always refuse when I ask so I took matters into my own hands.” You cross your arms, an act that is barely visible in the dead of night. Sukuna lights a candle, that way you can see his every expression. He wants you to be scared by a mere look. He wants you to see just how grotesque he truly is. “I feel like a prisoner, Sukuna. I can’t stay locked inside this cage until these babies come out of me.”

“What did you think this was?” Sukuna has a mocking tone of voice, making your blood run cold. It knocks you out of the idealistic world that you live in your head. “You feel like a prisoner because you are one. You traded your liberty for your brother’s life, and now you’re mine.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, the harsh reality check breaking your heart. Why did you think you would have a say? You can’t even walk outside of your room and take a breath of fresh air until spring. You can’t do anything that Sukuna doesn’t approve of. 

“I just want a breath of fresh air.” Your voice cracks, unable to contain the emotions that flow through you. This is your life now, and it’s hard to accept. You’ve had a couple of months to get used to the idea, but you’ve given yourself a higher position than the one that you actually have.

“And you’re about to cry.” Sukuna scoffs, watching as tears fill your eyes to the brim. His words are the catalyst that leads the salty tears to stream down your face. “Great.”

“Why can’t I just step outside for a minute?” You cry, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m not running away, I just need–”

“Do you think the cold is–” Sukuna interrupts you but he can’t finish his sentence without being cut off by one of your sobs. He sighs, stepping closer to you and wiping your tears with his kimono. He gently pats your back, the way Uraume told him to. “There, there.”

“I can’t do anything without you. I can barely breathe without you breathing down my neck.” You’re a complete mess, and Sukuna scoffs yet again. It should be an honor for you to say those words, yet you sound distraught.

“The cold isn’t good for my heirs.” Sukuna reminds you, something that you should know by now. He’s made it clear since the beginning, and he reminds you every time he reprimands you for asking to go outside. 

“Do you know how hard it is to be locked inside all day every day?” You ask him, and he looks annoyed at the question. Of course he wouldn’t know, but this is for your very own good. “I’m staring at a wall for hours on end, while you breathe down my neck– If not you, then one of your stupid servants.”

“Do you not care for your own sons that you continue to make such stupid points?” Sukuna questions, and a knot forms in your throat. You look away from him, wiping away the tears that manage to escape your eyes. You’ve never said it out loud, but you guess there’s a first time for everything. You’re scared about how he’ll react though.

You take a deep breath.

“I don’t.” You answer. “They’re your sons, not mine.”

“Huh?” It takes a lot to leave Sukuna dumbfounded, and you’ve accomplished it. He’s staring at you as if you’ve managed to cast a spell. “What did you just say?”

“I do not care for your heirs.” You repeat, and Sukuna isn’t sure how to react.

He knows of women that don’t love their offspring, usually they come offering their babies as currency. However, most women that come to him, come with the purpose of saving their children, whether born or unborn. He’s heard that humans tend to love their babies since before they’re even born, and he surely would’ve expected that from you. But that’s not the case.

“Of course, you wouldn’t care for the heirs of such a grotesque monster.” He responds, and you nod in agreement. You can’t even look him in the eye, but you act boldly. Sukuna tries to not get hurt by your response, because in the end it doesn’t matter. “You still have to carry them, and nurture them once they’re born. You can’t get rid of them so easily.”

His hand goes under your chin, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him,

“Whether you like it or not, you’re still my prisoner.”

[hwaightme]

In your eyes

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

📚 pairing: postgrad!bf!hongjoong x afab!gn!reader 📚 genre: smut, established relationship, so much fluff 📚 summary: time is nobody's friend, and hongjoong often finds himself wondering how much he has lost. thankfully, you always remind him of how beautiful the present and future can be, how full of love, how intimate, how true. 📚 wordcount: 4.0k 📚 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, semi-edited (do let me know if i missed something), they are so in love, teaching assistant joong, so many pet names (love, darling, etc), he is down bad, mention of time anxiety, mild relationship worries, mention of winter holiday season, y/n is an office worker (nothing specific), mention of exams (joong grading), sort of from joong's perspective 📚 taglist: below 📚 a/n: something about academic joong makes me feel many types of ways... anyhow- hope this is enjoyable and gives warm feels <33; live laugh love joong; any notes, reblogs, comments are highly appreciated! thank you

📚nsfw tags: sub-leaning switch joong, service top energy joong, lovemaking, handjob, fingering, dry humping, praise, begging, piv w condom, missionary, mating press, overstimulation, light cuddling, implied aftercare but not described

Tired eyes. Paper after paper decorated with green ink, subsequently joining the pile that was starting to take over the dining table. The persistent glow of the laptop screen, reflected in a pair of tortoiseshell-frame glasses that kept threatening to slide down an elegant nose. While grading papers was not exactly something that Hongjoong would dream of doing during the winter holidays, it came with his job, and so was not entirely abysmal. Perhaps the only issue was that he had grossly underestimated how much time and focus this task would take. Morning rapidly turned into day, and day equally as quickly trickled into evening, leaving him without as much as a moment to spare for the things people usually occupied themselves with at this time of year. Though, perhaps it was important to note that it was not the actual festivities that he longed for and felt apologetic that he could not partake in thanks to his own decisions, but rather a certain someone.

After finishing grading yet another paper, Hongjoong set his pen aside and roughly rubbed his eyes, careful to not send his glasses flying. Only now did he notice just how dark the room had gotten, barely a sliver of light crawling in through the windows, with no thanks to the gloomy weather outside. He rose from his chair, rolling his shoulders from having been in the same position for an uncomfortable number of hours, and ambled to one of the many floor lamps that were neatly stationed around the living room, each with its own story. He picked a particularly whimsical one right in the corner, squinting when it burst to life, revealing its curious design of frosted flowers, branches, and songbirds. Reluctant feet carried him back to the chair, now turned into an instrument for torturous isolation.

“Enough, you know what, enough…” Hongjoong’s whisper cut through the eerie silence of the apartment. Pushing the rest of the papers away, he leaned back with a huff and slid his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

The journey to his home screen was swift, only to end in a deliberate pause as he studied it with a sorrowful smile. He was unsure as to why a pang of melancholy had taken a sudden hold on him, but seeing your happy face as you were looking at a bungeoppang neatly tucked into a tiny white bag - a precious moment from a casual date you had gone on - had him irrationally spiraling. You lived together, and yet, he missed you. He longed to hold you in his arms for longer than a few seconds before pulling away. He dreamed of staying in the same room for what could be ages, sharing the quiet atmosphere, or maybe listening to your favorite songs together. The dark winter nights were taking a toll on him, and in utter solitude, the natural tendency to ruminate reigned supreme and let his worries wander freely from his mind and straight to his fragile heart.

When Hongjoong and yourself had discussed winter vacation, the conclusion was reached without much back and forth. You were not taking any days off, and Hongjoong made the most of his time off, well, doing more work. In retrospect, it might have been a silly idea on his part, but much like how you had explained it back to him, if it meant solidifying his position by being on the good side of his supervisor and being responsible for more things as a teaching assistant, it was worth it. But now, seeing couples roaming the streets around the city whenever he commuted into university, and generally the mere notion of having only the evenings and odd parts of the weekend to spend with you started to make him sick to the stomach. Without realizing it, he had driven himself into a corner, and he wanted out.

Before he could get any further than the usual perusal of social media, he heard the muted rattling of keys, and in a matter of seconds, the front door opened, revealing a familiar form. His eyes immediately settled on you, noting how you shrugged off your messenger bag and coat, leaving them on the ottoman in the corridor rather than hanging them up—clearly, he was not the only one tired. Nonetheless, when you raised your head after having freed yourself from the confines of your dress shoes, a smile spread across your face.

“Hi Joongie,” and just like that, his heart picked up its previously lethargic pace. 

“Welcome home my love,” the endearment slipped off his tongue, earning him an amused chuckle. 

“Mhm, missed me?”

“Maybe a little,” he played coy, knowing full well that you could read him like an open book no matter what front he put up. He returned your gleam, keeping his undivided attention on you as you sauntered off in the opposite direction. 

“I just need to change and I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the laptop and exams on the table irritated him. Hongjoong rose and tidied the papers into neater piles, shut his laptop, and arranged them all on the other side, as far away from him as possible; in his mind, should you two decide to have dinner in this room instead of the kitchen, you could sit closer to him. A win in any book. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt further up and carded his fingers through his hair, undoing a couple of unruly knots. What was he readying himself for? Maybe the answer was something beyond him, but he could not deny the warmth in his chest that grew and grew when he spotted you across the corridor once again, only now in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of the band t-shirts that he owned and you constantly borrowed.

Caught in a miniature mental disarray, he remained where he was, only slightly moving to allow for your arms to snake around his torso, and his hands to settle on your waist. Your embrace was grounding, boundless in affection, and Hongjoong gave up to the floaty sensation as he leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Surrounded by the remnants of the light, daytime perfume that you used, he found himself in paradise. He sensed a hand trail up his spine and start to toy with the longer hairs at the back of his head. This was a habit that you had only recently picked up, seeing as, for once, he was letting his hair grow longer, and he would be lying if this was not motivation for him to keep the mission going indefinitely. A warning hum erupted from somewhere deep in his chest when you lightly tugged. In a feeble attempt to mask his response to your playful caresses, he murmured:

 “How was work?”

“The usual, though it was quieter now that most people are off,” Hongjoong lifted his head and was immediately dazed by the adoration pooling in your eyes. You looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. Inadvertently, he pulled you closer, and yet still wasn’t quite satisfied.

“How’s everything for you?”

“Been focusing on the exams today, got through most of them actually.”

“Oh look at you, my scholar,” you whispered in response, tapping Hongjoong’s nose with your own. Meekly, he smiled and attempted to look away, only to be guided right back with your steady hand that had now let go of his hair, instead resting on his jaw.

“I should be the one praising you… who closed that insane project that was initially expected to be postponed into the new year, hm?”

“That I did, indeed, but doesn’t take away from how proud I am of you,” your words were honey, trickling into his ears and coating his very soul like a soothing balm.

“And I am proud of you.”

“We did well, didn’t we, Joongie?” The nickname had him wavering, tip-toeing on the edge of rationality.

“Mhm,” his next words came on their own accord, raw, vulnerable, barely audible, “I really missed you, darling.”

“But I am here, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry, I might be getting greedy,” his hands ghosted over your hips until one hand pushed you into him by the small of your back. You let out a gasp, but quickly regained your composure, clearly not taken aback. 

“Not that I mind it… Ah, is my poor Joong lonely?” after a few seconds of silence, you continued, “you are so precious, you know that?” He loved that expression you got when you basked in the glow of knowing. Knowing just how far gone Hongjoong was for you. It was embarrassing at times to reveal and admit how pathetic he could become just to see that little smirk, even just to himself, but he did not dwell on it for the reward was far too great, “tell me what you mean, baby.”

“I-... I know we agreed to keep things busy this winter but I can’t help but want… yeah, I miss you.”

“Can’t help but want me, you mean?” you detangled his intricate web in no time. Hongjoong walked in circles, while you cut straight to the chase. Maybe this was why he did not care for much at all except for your understanding and your reciprocation. He nodded, finding solace in hiding his face in your neck once more.

“Well, baby, what’s got you so pensive? Hm? Tell me?” your voice shifted from allure to sweet concern as you checked in. Hongjoong was all the more exposed, every move less calculated than the one prior, and your infinite devotion towards him, his thoughts, his everything was making him too dizzy to stand up straight.

“I just… hm, I don’t know-”

“You do, maybe are just too shy to tell me?”

“I want to spend more time with you, just us, you know? Little dates, we don’t have to do much… but I want us to be present, ah what am I even saying-”

“You were saying something that I would love to do, Hongjoong,” you were quieter than before, more tender, “we have definitely been a little relaxed after moving in together, haven't we?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that-”

“I would. And that won’t do. So, how about we start now, then?”

All too delectable were the images that flashed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he felt bashful and helpless under your steady scrutiny. With your pointer finger resting under his chin, he could not do anything except stare back, a task proving to be increasingly challenging as heat rose on his cheeks. His head moved on its own accord, response shallow, almost a tremble rather than agreement.

“Words, Joongie, good boys use words.”

Oh how he craved you. His stomach coiled at your dangerous reminder. Instead of any coherent phrase, vulnerable, shallow breaths danced between you and him. Nobody was his audience except you, nobody knew him like you did, and yet the sheer weight of his infatuation with you was preventing him from saying a single thing, despite any fears being irrational. As soon as he were to say what was yelling at him in his mind, you would be satisfied, and allow him to drown in everything that you were.

“Yes…” he choked out, relieved upon detecting the beginnings of a feline grin.

“Yes what? Do elaborate.”

“Yes I- want this. I want us, I want you.” 

“How?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” heart hammering in his chest, he stammered.

“In that kind of mood, are you?”

“Oh please-” he wanted to disappear, shrinking back to free himself from your hand to no avail. Your chest again his, lips a mere tilt of the head away, and his senses were flooded.

“I’d love to, Joongie, I’d love to take care of you.”

Soft lips moulded perfectly with his, like freshly fallen snow. Hongjoong’s senses went into overdrive as the kiss built up into a sultry, addictive rhythm. Teeth grazed his lower lip ever so gently, and before he could react,you deepened the kiss by resting your arms on his shoulders. Immediately his hands responded by finding purchase on your lower back. He was grateful that your mouth muffled the whine bubbling in his throat as you purposefully shifted your body into his. But somehow, it was still not enough. 

“Mh- sorry-” Parting for air was simply an excuse for Hongjoong to fish for his glasses with a trembling hand and set them down on the nearest surface. Apparently, it was not a distraction to you in the slightest.

Your onslaught continued past his plush, reddened lips and across his jaw, ending on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He jolted, but when you chased him to nip at the same place again he took no time in giving you better access. You moved again, leaving quick pecks on his lips and pressing your forehead against his. In the breathless euphoria any chances to overthink had disappeared, and he allowed himself to let go, to be completely yours. He was willingly leaving himself to be at your mercy, knowing that he was going to be safe, going to be adored. In a flurry of emotion, he bared his soul.

“I love you,” he did not notice the shakiness in his own hands until you raced to clasp them with your own.

“I love you too, Joongie.”

It took one step for him to start following you to the bedroom. You appeared as the very notion of calm, guiding Hongjoong. You let go of one of his hands to switch on a bedside lamp, making haste to return your attention to him. He melted under your touch, half-lidded eyes following how your swift fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. You treated him like he was priceless porcelain, a touch here, another there, skillfully ghosting over the places you know, from experience, would send him reeling and falling to your feet. But it was obvious that this was not the night for such a progression. Tonight was about connecting beyond the physical, about exploring intimacy as more than just some flimsy term.

As soon as you gave the sign, Hongjoong shrugged off his top, shivering momentarily until your hands were back, roaming his chest and waist freely. Enthralled, he mumbled your name. His eyes roamed ceaselessly as you got undressed, standing proudly before him, almost fully bare, beautiful. While you had told him you changed, evidently that included a conscious decision to dress up in the most enticing lingerie - he thought it was impossible to keep falling in love like this, but he kept on proving himself wrong whenever you were with him. Even though he had seen you like this many times over, every time left him wondering how he could possibly have found someone so lovely. Words escaped him. 

“Leaving me alone like this?” you asked, a smirk etching itself into your features. You did not need to ask Hongjoong twice for him to clumsily begin undoing his trousers and settle on the edge of the bed, face flushed.

“So precious, so good to me,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his wavy locks.

When you straddled his lap and inched dangerously close to his boxers, Hongjoong swore his head was spinning. Prompted by another gentle tug at his hair, he kissed the soft skin of your breasts, one hand making quick work out of undoing your bra while the other played with the lacy fabric. 

He followed your sighs, your sharp inhales and exhales, the sounds you bit back and he would tirelessly do anything to hear. His teeth grazed you ever so lightly as he travelled from one breast to another, a trail of kisses remaining anywhere he went. You grinded your hips into his with more purpose, feeling that delicious heat starting to rise in your core. Hongjoong responded with a flick of his tongue on your nipple, humming when he could finally rid you of pesky material, leaving him with every chance to show his love for you. Fingers stimulated the one he had shifted away from, while his other hand returned to its rightful place on your lower back. 

It was as though a fire had enveloped him. There was not enough space, not enough air, and yet his only wish was to be so close to you that he could simply disappear. He was painfully aware of his hardening length, the continuous friction leaving him with half a mind to start begging. For what? Perhaps, for anything. Anything that you would give. You pulled yourself even closer, now sat directly on top of the growing wetness on his boxers, putting all the more effort into your hips. Airy mewls spilled from his lips, and he lunged to hold you, hands on your ass encouraging you to continue to untangle him at this agonising pace.

It was a game of lips, tongue and teeth. You returned to kissing him, foregoing whatever stability you tried to contain to completely sink into his form. Taken as he was by you, Hongjoong tried his best to keep up, lewd, slick noise that echoed in his ears only spurring him on. 

Your limbs were cotton, thoughts preoccupied by a carnal want. Palming his erection, you smiled against Hongjoong’s lips when he moaned.

“How’s that baby, hm?”

“Don’t stop-”

“Want more? Is that right?” feverish nods, resulting in you pulling at the elastic of his boxers, “Off,” you sat up a little to help him, balancing with your knees on the bed as he shimmied the fabric off just enough for you to push it further down to his ankles, “so pretty.”

You covered your palm in his dripping pre-cum and smoothed it down his length in a couple of skilled pumps, amused by Hongjoong’s adamance to be obedient, pursing his lips to remind himself that he shouldn’t buck into you. His gaze was fixated on your caresses, just enough to drive him mad, but not enough to take him over the edge, only ever wavering to glance at your still-clothed pussy. Judging by your momentary spell of quiet, you were trying to focus on him at the expense of your own desires. 

With another groan, Hongjoong slipped your panties to the side, calloused fingers immediately being coated in slick. Rhythmic circles over your clit turned to music to his ears as you mewled, leaning forward to find his shoulder, biting it ever so slightly. With every breathy moan his body kept on screaming for you, your warmth unbearably inviting. When he dipped two fingers into your core your movements faltered and you squeezed around his base in warning. He could lose himself then and there, sheer power of will leaving him one thread to hang by.

“Baby, can I please-”

“Say it, Joong,”

“Can we take it to the end? Please, please I-”

“If we don’t I’d be upset. I, want, you, so, bad-” you punctuated your response with pecks across his face, an ecstatic grin meeting his own.

You and him were a mess of limbs and pleasure falling onto the bed, him helping you over and pulling the panties completely off, humming at the sight. He was eager to please, ensuring you were comfortable with how you were lying down. Adjusting the pillows, placing one under your hips to avoid any strain, checking that you would not hit the headboard, stretching towards the drawer to take out a condom, speedily tearing the packaging and rolling it on. You watched him, enamoured. Beauty, inside and out, ethereal in the honey-coloured light.

He positioned himself at your entrance, gliding his tip a couple of times over your sensitive clit before pushing in. You sighed, head falling back at the relieving fullness. Your walls clenched around him as he bottomed out, making him let out a low growl. He shifted his weight forwards until his arms were on either side of you and he could indulge in your every expression.

It was a delightful stretch. Your every sense was filled by him, and only him. Then, he began to move. He started agonisingly slow, pulling out almost his entire length only to drive it back in, punctuated by the sound of skin against skin. He dragged his hips almost lazily, but you knew better than to assume that this was going to continue for much longer, given his shallow breathing.

Hiis thrusts became more accentuated, faster within a few minutes, and you searched for anything that you could hold, all too quickly losing yourself. In a feeble attempt to reach for him you lifted your arms upwards. More often than not you did not need to explain to Hongjoong what it was you wanted - he read you and understood, just like now. With a strained chuckle he edged forwards until he was close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. The feeling of your digits back in his hair had him biting his lower lip, barely containing his building high.

A particularly deep thrust made you tug at strands, and he moaned, rolling his hips with newfound vigour. Every time you clenched around him he became more frantic. The glide against your walls was perfection, the familiar coil tightening at a frightening speed towards a crashing release. Your arms collapsed when Hongjoong cursed under his breath, tapping your thighs to angle them upwards. You shifted upwards, legs barely wrapped around him as the new position gave him even more depth and freedom to pound into you.

The wetness embracing him was downright vulgar, noise enhancing the redness of his cheeks. You tensed around him, previously quiet pants transforming into a mantra of his name. He gripped your thighs in a last attempt to remain grounded, but as waves of your climax took over you and you pulsed around his cock, limbs trembling, all he could do was give in. Give into you, give into white hot euphoria. You were soaking him, he was rapidly getting overstimulated but he could not careless, remaining exactly where he was even though his muscles were screaming.

He was completely spent. Nothing but adoration towards you remained. He winced as he pulled out and hastily took off the condom, far too sensitive to function. Falling to your side, he watched the rise and fall of your chest, entranced by how even the smallest details that you possessed had their own brilliance. After a few moments you shifted, pushing the pillow from underneath you and turning to the side, facing Hongjoong. Your sleepy, but totally mesmerised gaze made his heart hurt. You. It was you who he loved, you who he lived with, you with whom he could make love like this. 

“Hi,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Hi,” he brushed your cheek and kissed you again. You lifted your arm, suggesting that he were to move closer to you. Much to his dismay, a surge of stimulation pulsed through him, making him gasp. Thankfully, you took it with good humour, eyes travelling down his body, seductive even in the afterglow. 

“I am not sure I should move just yet,” he suggested with a chuckle, astonished with himself.

“Hm… then let me get us all cleaned up and I-”

“-you are not moving either,” powering through, Hongjoong stretched his arm until it was lying across your torso. There was no force behind the action itself, except maybe in his pouting lips that you could not help but want to kiss again and again. You chuckled and feigned annoyed acceptance.

“Fine, I guess we can stay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” you countered.

“Impossible.”

You shifted closer until all you could see was Hongjoong’s face, and all he could see was yours. And yet, somehow, in each other’s eyes, you could see the world. Those plans you mentioned, those worries, those wishes, those desires all collected in miniature universes of the soul, reflections and projections of a life lived and to be lived together. Dreamy eyes.

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enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

[sun-kissy]

Hi my love!!

I’d LOVE a scarf for Christmas.

Can I do James Potter and “please forget all the times where i complained about you being a hugger.”

Maybe where reader is not really a touchy person most of the time (cuz I’m not either lol).

Thank you! Love you!!!

here’s your scarf, lovely mk!!🧣thank you for the request, love you loads <333

phone | j.p.

— “Please forget all the times where I complained about you being a hugger.”

james potter x reader

summary: there’s a creep, and it’s cold outside. fortunately, james lives nearby

tw: creepy guy, protective james <3, sorry i know i said that most of the sleepover drabbles would be christmas themed but the only christmasy thing about this is that the weather’s cold 😭

“Make sure she gets home safe!” you yell to Mary over the din of the club, steering a very drunk Lily into her arms. She grins and flashes you a thumbs-up as you turn around to leave.

Your tipsy friend’s high-pitched giggles can be heard as you make your way out, your heart jumping on beat to the music. It’s not just loud, it’s booming, and paired with the blinding disco lights, acutely overstimulating.

When Mary had first suggested this place, you definitely had your reservations — more often than not, you spotted drunkards stumbling out with either bruises on their faces or girls on their arms. But you decided to tag along. Admittedly, it had been fun. Now you were more than ready to go home to the warmth of your bed.

You’re about to push the door open when you realise you’ve left your coat back at the table. You swivel back around to find Lily swaying side to side, bent over.

She lets out a bulky groan, and your lips curve into a slight grimace in anticipation. You open your mouth to warn somebody but it’s too late; she hurtles forward, throwing up over everything in a one metre radius — your coat included.

You turn back to the front door and swing it open with a barely concealed sigh, heels clicking against the pavement as you step outside.

Cold wind hits you like a slap in the face. You’re pretty sure that your shudder is audible, rows of teeth clacking against one another as you curl into yourself. 

The mini dress your friends had picked out for you does nothing to help. You tug the ends of it downwards, squeezing your thighs together and wrapping your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

You glance at the road, frustration starting to nip at you. There seem to be no taxis in sight, demand raging high on a Friday night. Walking home wasn’t an option — it was way too far away and freezing was an understatement for how you felt right now. 

James’ house was nearby, but you had been pulling out all the stops to avoid him for the past few days. Not that you didn’t like him — on the contrary, you really, really liked him. A friend from high school had introduced you to him at a party and you were immediately smitten. He asked you out, and you’d been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. He was everything you could’ve wanted in a man, more than what you’d ever hoped for. You just spent a lot of time worrying you were going to screw it all up — hence never called when he asked you to, made up excuses not to meet when he wanted to. James deserved better.

“Darling!”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sudden voice, rough and sultry from behind you. You whip around, instinctively taking a step back as your eyes land on the long-haired man staggering around in front of the club. His face is tilted downwards, staring into his empty liquor bottle almost… sadly.

But then he looks up at you. His eyes are dark with desire, mouth curving into something vile. It scares you. “Come here, darling. Come here.”

“Go away.” You try to sound unafraid. It comes out on a shaky breath, betraying the anxiety clogging up your throat. You take a few more cautious steps backwards, eyes darting between the man in front of you and the path behind you.

Your hand is already reaching for your phone in your pocket as soon as he starts stumbling towards you. Your fingers feel heavy, turned to smudge as you switch it on and desperately click on James’ contact.

“I asked you,” the man growls, “to come here!” He takes bigger, unsteady steps towards you, liquor bottle smashed to the ground without a care in the world.

Your heart feels like it’s being roped out of your throat, mind turned to mush in your head. You press your phone to your ear, turning around and mustering the quickest steps possible in your 6-inch heels. The cold is all-consuming now, tearing at your skin like wild dogs to prey. But all that’s on your mind is getting home safe. 

You’re barely a few rings in when James’ voice cuts through. “Hello? Y/n, is that you?”

“James!”

“Y/n, sweetheart. God, have you been ignoring me? I was so worried, and thought you hated me, and — “

“James.” The panic in your voice must be really palpable, because he shuts up immediately. “Yeah?”

You glance backwards for a split second as you walk ahead, seeing that the man has sped up. His arms are outreached towards you, and he’s spewing dirty lines you’d kill never to hear again. The smirk on his face widens by the second.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” James’ concerned voice comes through again, and you snap your head forwards and exhale shakily.

“You know that club really close to your place, the one with the um… the huge statue of a horse outside? I’m near there. Could you please walk over and fetch me? There’s a creep, and it’s cold, and —“

“Hold on, there’s a creep?” His worry is obvious. You hear the rustling of fabric and the flipping of switches on his end. “Are you safe?”

“Not really,” you croak honestly, sparing another look behind you to find your stalker doubled over, spilling his guts out onto the side of the road. You fasten your pace.

You can almost hear the frown in James’ voice. “Be careful, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

You hang up and pocket your phone. Your nose is running, you can’t feel your fingers where they touch your cheek. You’re numbed.

You force yourself to keep walking, chanting James’ name like a desperate prayer in your mind. Your train of thought is interrupted by the creep once again. You squeeze your eyes shut as his voice hovers by, dangerously close, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

“You stupid girl, you better turn around or else I’ll —“

“You’ll what?”

Your eyes crack open immediately to find James jogging over to you, eyes locked on the figure behind you. It’s like your prayers have been answered. His gaze drifts to you, and in a second he’s got his arm wrapped around your back as he pulls you into his chest. 

“I’m asking you again, jerk. What do you think you’re gonna do to my girl?” You feel yourself melting into him with relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as you absorb the vibrations of his chest with each word he pushes out. His voice is hard, strained. A tone you’d never associate with the sweet boy holding you, but love does silly things to people sometimes. Maybe he loved you.

Your stalker mutters something unintelligible, along with a very loud, “Fuck you!” before staggering away.

James’ attention is on you instantly. He pulls away slightly to grip you by the shoulders, looking you over with a worried frown. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shake your head, teeth chattering too rapidly to give a straight answer. Your shivering doesn’t go unnoticed. He conjures up a jacket from seemingly nowhere, draping it over the back of your shoulders.

You can tell he’s trying to hold back for your sake, one hand rubbing circles into your shoulder while the other brushes strands of hair off your face. You’ve never been the type to want to be touched. But it’s exactly what you need right now, the gentle warmth of a hug that’s been wanting to be given, waiting to be received.

You lean forward and make your intent clear, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, immediately pulling you in and tightening his hold around you.

“You good, hon?” he says into your hair, face tilting downward to rest on the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling the tension start to dissipate from your joints. You cling to him like a vice. “Please forget all the times where I complained about you being a hugger. Boy, did I need this.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and starts to gently draw his hand up and down your spine. “You did? Well, I’m always glad to provide it.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, legs curling around his like you’re trying to hug him with every part of you. He stamps a kiss to the top of your head before slipping his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up till you’re wrapped around his waist. 

It earns a soft grunt from you before you’re relaxing into him, warmth seeping into your skin. He holds you with all the tenderness he would a baby.

“Your dress is lovely, by the way,” he mutters as he readjusts the jacket to cover your exposed ass. “You look absolutely lovely.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, tilting your face to rest it in the crook of his neck. 

He carries you back to his apartment, telling you all the things he’d wanted to say these past couple of days when you weren’t here for him to say it to. You decide that James is too lovely to let anxiety push away. You’ll probably phone him again sometime soon.

san’s christmas sleepover