#BLISSFULLY ASLEEP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jinx-xxed · 1 month ago

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I need Remmick being so down bad for his human wife pretty please

Work Song

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A/N; I needed this too so thank you for this request 🙏 I love a man that’s down bad and obsessed, those are the best kind ^_^ the title for this one takes after Hozier’s Work Song of course since I was thinking about it while writing this :P I hope you enjoy, and thank you again for requesting!! (Also apologies for me going overboard, I got way too invested in the backstory and couldn’t stop myself :’D)

Summary; Remmick comes home to his wife.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, human reader, down bad Remmick!!, soft Remmick, possessive Remmick, vampirism, cleaning him up, married to Remmick, soft sex, fingering, piv sex, cuddling, he doesn’t know how to handle “I love you”, fluff

Wc; 6.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The house is dark and quiet when the door opens with the smallest squeak, resting on old hinges gone too long without oil.

The curtains are drawn tight, the material thicker than your typical run of the mill, assuring no light can sneak through the cracks. The air is fresh with recent movement, signs of a home well lived in with pictures hung on the wall and shoes in a small rack by the door. That’s where Remmick leaves his dust covered boots so he doesn’t track red speckled dirt all over your nice clean floors. He tosses his stained button up in the wash bin you set out for him too, just his white tank remaining as his suspenders fall loose around his hips. Stepping inside your place is like a balm on his unsettled, angry soul, letting him leave everything else behind just for a little while.

Your home is the only one he’s allowed himself to become familiar with, the only one he’s stayed at for longer than a couple months. He knows every hall, every creaky wooden floorboard, every small detail at an almost intimate level. He follows the path he’s gone down hundreds of times, the one that leads him right to your bedroom. Your scent brings him there just the same—sweet and flowery like a perfect spring day, a tantalizing whisper of iron hiding beneath.

Remmick nudges the bedroom door open, his eyes flickering in the dim lighting, red simmering in the blue-gray like the last embers of a dying fire. It’s strange how instantly something within him is calmed at the sight of you, something deep and possessive and maybe even predatory that finally quiets when it realizes you’re still here. Your form is tucked beneath the sheets, blissfully warm and cozy and utterly perfect. He sees a book tossed aside to the corner of the bed, like you’d tried to stay awake for him but ultimately gave up and fell asleep. He can hear your gentle breaths, the quiet thrum of your heart that taunts him.

His steps are near silent when he makes his way over to you. You lay on your stomach, a pillow hugged between both arms, your pretty mouth parted just slightly. You look serene in sleep, an angel come down to earth just for a devil like him. Remmick reaches forward, brushing a stray curl from your face with a tenderness most would think impossible for himself—with his hands that have taken too many lives to count, that are stained with blood every night. But with you they’re gentle, able to rediscover a mushy part of him that was buried centuries ago.

Your eyebrows pinch and you mumble indistinctly when his chilled hand rests on your cheek, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin beneath his calloused palm. He’s a little warmer tonight though, with fresh blood still flowing through him, but it’s never enough to completely chase off the cold bite of death. He leans down to pepper kisses across your face, steadily moving to your neck where he pauses, his blunt teeth teasing along your jugular and inhaling your scent like it’s a lifeline.

Under his attention is how you finally wake, shaken from meaningless dreams by frigid fingers and loving kisses. You smile lazily, stretching your arms and twisting so you’re on your back to face him. You paw at him, pulling him in with no resistance—he’d happily follow your touch wherever you wanted him to go. Your lips meet briefly, a pleased noise rumbling from him before you pull away. “You’re back.” You say, sleep still edging your words. You breathe him in contentedly, your fingers coming up to run through his short hair. He still has that signature metallic tang on him despite his efforts to clean up before coming home. “Was worried ‘bout you.”

“Aw darlin’, you ain’t have to do that. You know I’ll always come back to ya.” Remmick says, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. One of his hands rests above the covers on your waist now, the weight of it comforting and familiar. He huffs, shaking his head. “Shit, thought ‘bout ya all night.”

It’s true, he really was thinking about you the whole time—something he finds himself doing a lot recently. He thinks about you from the moment he leaves your house because of the undeniable call of his hunger, all the way to when he finally returns hours later. He’ll think about wishing he could stay around when your eyes start to droop and the mortal need for sleep takes you away, when you subconsciously curl into him searching for warmth that isn’t there. He hates having to move you off of him so he can go, so he can step out into the unforgiving darkness of night in search of a life to steal. You do make the cutest little noises though, something like a disgruntled cat’s. He’ll tuck you in real nice and kiss you sweetly to make sure you don’t miss him too much, and so he can seal the image in his memory to keep him motivated—a reminder of what he gets to come home to.

“You were gone for so long.” You say with a small pout, holding his face in your hands, his light stubble tickling your palms. The gold ring you wear glints in the darkness, a twin to his own.

He tilts his head so his lips connect with your hand, nuzzling into your touch that he always seems to crave. “Just got caught up with some things s’all.” He’d cut it close tonight, the sun appearing like a reckoning seconds after he’d shut the door. “I’m here now, darlin’.”

You smile at that, pulling him in again to kiss him, enjoying the taste of him. There’s always something metallic hiding beneath every bit of him, something too old for your mind to comprehend, something otherworldly. For most it would be unnerving and terrifying but for you, that’s just your husband, your Remmick. You’d accepted that when you agreed to marry him about three years ago, opening your arms and home to him and every unnatural part that came with him.

It was two years before that when you’d actually met him, the memory always sitting clear in your mind like it happened yesterday.

You’d spent the whole day baking—cookies, pies, cobblers, tarts… the list went on as you prepared for the market happening in town the next morning. You prided yourself on your baked goods, and people always bought you out. The whole house smelled of your efforts, the scent carrying out the open windows and into the trees beyond. You hadn’t heard it at first, the whispers in the leaves, the way all the animals went silent, the world seeming to hold its breath for just a moment. You’d been too busy singing a song you knew by heart as you were prone to do whenever working in the kitchen. (Remmick has told you countless times how much he adores your voice, he says it’s like a fine wine).

You were rotating the food left to cool on the windowsill when you saw him, standing out there by the tree line, watching you with eyes that at first gave you the willies. “Hey there,” you’d called, watching as he flinched at the sound of your voice, “what brings ya over?”

He’d taken a few curious steps towards the house, letting you get a better look at him. Worn button up loosely tucked into high waisted trousers, a white tank hidden beneath, suspenders over the shoulders, old boots, and a banjo slung across his back. He looked like a man who traveled often, never staying in one place long enough to learn the style of it. His face looked kind, set with strong features on stocky shoulders that suggested he was no stranger to hard work. His short black hair was messy but in a presentable way, curled bangs sitting on his forehead. Still, you knew there was something deeper about him that was off, that didn’t belong in your realm of living.

His hands were loosely in his pockets and he shrugged. “Smelled somethin’ mighty sweet, heard somethin’ even sweeter. You got a beautiful voice, darlin’.” He’d given you a close-lipped smile, one that made his eyes crinkle at the edges. His southern drawl was thick like syrup, coated across every word with something mixed in that you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I‘ve got years of church choir to thank for that.” You’d joked. You’d tilted your head. “Would you like to try anything, sir? I could always use a taste tester.”

He’d hesitated for a moment longer than would be normal, as if debating something serious in his mind, before shaking his head. He chuckled. “Nah, I’m tryin’ to cut back.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. If you change your mind, I’ll be at the market tomorrow. Feel free to stop by.” You’d said. He’d smiled back at you in a way that suggested he knew something you didn’t, told you that you wouldn’t be seeing him at the market or any day after that.

As soon as the sun went down though, he continued appearing in your backyard. He never stayed long at first, only sticking around to strike up a brief conversation. You’d learned his name, Remmick, and he had learned yours. Your name was always soft on his tongue, like he needed to be careful with something precious. He listened to you talk like you spoke the gospel, reverence in those blue-gray eyes as he never missed a word. In turn he would tell you stories of a time long ago, weaving vibrant imagery that made you feel as if you were standing in the green fields of a country far away. It confirmed things about him that you already suspected, like how he wasn’t from here at all, that he came from something hundreds or maybe even thousands of years old.

You’d sit on your little porch swing while he’d remain in the grass leaning against the railing, never truly breaching the line of your home. The night was warm and muggy, and there was a lull in your conversation, causing your gaze to travel to the banjo he continued to carry with him. “You any good on that thing?” You’d asked with a nod towards it.

Remmick huffed. “I like to think I am.”

You smirked. “Play me somethin’.”

He’d given you that signature smile. “Well, can’t deny a pretty thing like you, can I?”

He was always quick to flatter you, and you had to admit it was getting to you a little, something foreign fluttering in your chest. He’d swung the instrument around, resting it in deft hands and idly strumming a string or two as he thought about what to play. He’d then struck the first few chords and you quickly realized you recognized the song, it being one your family had shared together for years. You couldn’t help but sing along, shutting your eyes and letting yourself feel the music within as your body swayed. It meant that you missed the way Remmick looked at you, like you were heaven come to earth, adoration and reverence burning in his eyes like the hottest fire. That was the moment something clicked into place for him, that cemented his need to have you in whatever way he could.

He was downright obsessed with you. He couldn’t stay away from you and your sweet voice, your mouth watering smell, your entire being that seemed to be kissed by the sun. He knew he’d do anything to stay in your warmth, in your blessing. He kept coming by night after night, staying as long as his hunger allowed or until you couldn’t stop yawning and finally headed to bed with a sleepy goodnight. Part of him wished to follow you inside, thinking of how easy it’d be to take you in the carnal way he secretly desired, to lock you to him for eternity, but Remmick always held back, another part of him not wanting to ruin what you have. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone that didn’t end with their blood smeared along his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shown such simple kindness, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so human.

You didn’t know how much time passed like that, with easy talks and shared songs into the late hours when everybody else would be asleep. You always kept your physical distance, as did he, like some unspoken understanding. The emotional distance was another story, something that was shortening by the day. Feelings were blooming into something out of control, mixing with your desire in order to make a sickly concoction.

You both knew you were onto him, onto the fact he was something unnatural and ancient, but you never bothered to bring it up. You’d heard enough stories from your momma about things like him, you understood how dangerous they were but… you couldn’t find it in yourself to chase him off. You’d grown too fond of him, of his stupid smile and charming words, his endless stories and soothing voice. He felt much the same and yet… you were at some kind of mutual standstill, neither of you quite knowing what to do with it.

Until the one night he didn’t show up.

You’d waited. You’d sat on the porch with furrowed brows and downturned lips, disappointment sitting heavy behind your heart. Had he gotten bored of you? Decided to disappear without a word? You’d supposed it wasn’t a shock, it happened to you all the time. You gave him an hour before you sighed in defeat, heading back inside so the bugs didn’t eat you alive for nothing. You tried to ignore the hurt you felt, knowing it was useless to feel it over someone—something—like him. He didn’t owe you anything, hell, you were lucky he hadn’t killed you. Maybe it was some kind of sign. You’d gone to bed just as thunder rumbled outside, lightning flickering between the clouds.

You were woken hours later by a knock on your back door. You’d grumbled and wrapped a robe around yourself, trudging down the hall and to the kitchen, eyeing the silhouette hidden behind the mesh screen. There was something whispering to not open it, to protect yourself and just crawl right back into bed. You noticed the silence that had settled around your home, the one that made the frogs quiet and the crickets cease their songs, the one always followed by a familiar figure. You knew something was off, could feel it in your bones, but it didn’t stop you from opening that door.

You’d gasped so sharply that it hurt, your body stumbling back a step. Remmick stood there, blood covering his front half, his eyes gleaming a deep red that reflected in the same way an animal’s did. The whole way he carried himself was different, more predatory and deadly, poised to kill at a moments notice. His clothes were disshelved, his bangs plastered to his forehead from sweat. The wind carried the smell of him to you, ancient earth and leather tainted with the iron of blood. He opened his mouth and you saw the teeth sharpened to fangs, coated with his meal.

He smiled at you, and it was no longer one that made your heart flutter. It sent a cold shiver down your spine. “You gon’ let me in, darlin’? Or just keep starin’?”

He liked the way you looked at him then, like everything finally snapped into place for you. Mixed with your fear was a kind of defiance, like you were trying to tell yourself not to be frightened. He liked you seeing him for what he truly was, liked knowing you still wouldn’t cower. It’s what made you step aside and say those simple words, even though you knew your momma was surely rolling in her grave at your stupidity.

Something heavy shifted when he stepped inside your home. Something that told you it could never be undone and you’d have to bear the consequences, but you found that you didn’t care. “So that’s what you are,” you muttered, “a vampire.” You’d heard of them before from your momma, you knew how to kill one. You were pretty sure there was even some kind of emergency kit hidden in a closet somewhere.

Remmick chuckled low and dark, shaking his head. “You knew this whole time and you ain’t ever run or scream or cry…” He smirked, triumphant. “I knew you was somethin’ special, darlin’.”

He sat in a chair at your dining table like it belonged to him, his eyes traveling around your home as he swallowed down every bit of information he could glean about you. The floral designs on the dish cloths, portraits hung on the walls, keepsakes littering empty spaces, and a thick recipe book sitting on the counter—all of it a testament to you, the woman he didn’t stop thinking about night after night. Your scent was so heavy in your home it made it feel like he was breathing in a drug every time he inhaled and fuck- he couldn’t get enough. He wanted it to live inside him, he wanted you to make your home in his veins, in the space between his ribs. He wanted you with him forever.

He watched with a predator’s gaze as you filled a bowl with water, desperate to do something to keep yourself busy. It was brave of you to keep your back to him, but it was like you knew he wouldn’t do anything unless you asked. He’d get on his knees for you if you wanted, he’d beg just to hear his name fall from your lips.

You grabbed one of your pretty little dish rags, setting it and the bowl next to him while you sat in front of him, so close your knees almost touched. He could tell how much you were trying to hide your fear from your expression but he still saw it in your furrowed brows and pressed lips and your eyes that were just a bit too wide. “I’m scarin’ ya.” He said it like a fact, one without room for dispute. His fierce red irises bore into yours, seeing everything you wanted to hide. You went to protest, your trembling mouth opening before he shushed you. “Don’t lie. I can smell it.” It was potent and intoxicating, seeping from your pores and making drool threaten to fall down his chin.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You said with a false confidence. You dipped the rag into the warm water and suddenly grabbed his face in one hand as if to prove it, shocking the both of you with your boldness. Remmick visibly shuddered under your touch, his eyes fluttering briefly and a small noise coming from him, even as your fingers dug into the plush of his cheeks. Oh, how long he’d waited to feel your hands on him, the warmth of your humanity, the softness of your skin. He couldn’t believe he’d gone this long without it, without something that was clearly so vital to his very existence. He knew then he could never go another day without touching you.

“Don’t want you makin’ a mess in my house.” You muttered like an excuse, dragging the rag across his upper lip and moving down, taking the blood with it. He was more than willing to relax into your ministrations, letting you clean him as if he was a child. Nobody had ever done it for him before, after all. He watched you all the while—the crease between your brows, the determined curve of your mouth, studying every detail and committing it to memory.

“I ain’t a stranger to blood, you know. My daddy used to be a doctor.” You began after a good few minutes, talking to keep yourself distracted from the reality of your situation. Remmick didn’t mind of course, he loved your voice more than life itself. His attention immediately shifted towards the sound like a dog with its ears perked.

“Used to?” He’d asked.

“He died in the war. Momma went soon after, they basically said heartbreak caused her stroke n’ killed her.” Your head shook. “She really loved that man to death. Couldn’t blame her, he was the kindest soul you’d ever meet. Always helpin’ the poor and needy, bringing ‘em into the house to heal ‘em when they couldn’t afford their bills. He’d make me help sometimes, getting fresh water and whatnot. That’s why you ain’t nothin’ special.”

“How sweet of ya.” Remmick teased, his fangs showing with his uneven smile.

You’d ignored him, rubbing the cloth along his collarbones and across the gold chain he wore, clearly beginning to discolor from age. The water in the bowl had long since turned red, your dishrag officially ruined but it was the least of your concerns (and Remmick had gotten you a new one later on).

When you’d deemed him clean enough, you moved to get up and dump the bloody water before his large, cold hand latched onto your wrist, stopping you abruptly. It was like the tension was pulled taught as a bowstring at that moment, some small seedling of doubt in you saying he was about to kill you while he just stared at where your bodies were connected. It was slow and purposeful when Remmick brought your hand up to his mouth and ran his lips along your palm, breathing you in, tasting you with darts of his tongue. You felt the flush crawl up the back of your neck and across your cheeks, watching as he nuzzled into your hand, looking at you with those wide red eyes, every reminder of the last couple months together hanging there. Every shared story, every vulnerability, every song sung together.

“I need ya, sweet thing, shoot- I’ve needed ya since that first day. I’ll treat ya nice and good, I swear it on my dead heart.” Remmick said to you, his words thick, heavy, and gravelly with his desire. “You’ll never want for nothin’, darlin’, I’ll give ya everythin’, I promise. Please, baby, let me prove it to ya-“

He continued to kiss along your arm, so determined to show you the truth behind his words, to make you give in to him with murmured pleas and prayers. He relished in the taste of you, his breaths growing labored from his excitement. You stopped him with your hands on either side of his face to pull him back, his lips parted and shiny with spit, his eyes still glowing red but full of unbridled desire for you. You already knew your answer, had known it the whole time. You were so tired of being alone, so tired of searching for someone, anyone, to love you and understand you. You didn’t care that the only one who did was a monster in the body of a man—there was something about it that made it even sweeter.

So you’d agreed.

There was only a second of pause, like Remmick was processing it, those simple words that tilted his entire world, before he was on you. He kissed you with such ferocity, such possession, his hands roaming all over you, gripping you so tightly you had no choice but to submit to him. He’d swept you up with ease, carrying you into your bedroom where he’d fucked you stupid until the sun rose, pulling more orgasms from you than you thought possible, pinning you beneath his sweat soaked body and filling you again and again, whispering his thanks and devotions the entire time. You’d slept through the whole day after that with Remmick cradling you against his cooled body, encasing you in his arms like he was afraid you’d take it all back if he let go.

That was how you fell into the routine of your relationship. He’d spend the light hours tucked away inside the safety of your house while you went about your day, then he’d leave most nights in search of food before coming back hours later and fucking you senseless, exhilarated from both the hunt and seeing you again. Remmick made you feel more loved and protected than you ever had before, always saying praises and promises into your skin like a prayer you’d hear in church, always giving you everything he had to offer. He’d sometimes even bring you gifts after his hunts, little things he knew you’d like. Fresh berries he stole from a garden or farm, beautiful flowers to go right on the table, a book or two he was able to snag off somebody.

It went on like this for months, and then it became a year, then two, until Remmick couldn’t take it anymore and he decided he needed you in a way that was deeper than what he’d been indulging in. It didn’t mean you getting bit, no, not yet, it meant you got presented with a pretty gold ring that matched his own. He asked you to marry him on a warm summers night, when fireflies were dancing outside and the critters of the moon were singing their songs. You’d said yes without hesitation, flinging your arms around him and kissing him until you both ran out of breath. You’d spent the rest of the moon hours dancing and singing and making love, too full of joy to do much else.

It was the best way for Remmick to have you forever, for every other man to know you belonged to him. He knew that one day he would bite you, he would drain the life from your body, he’d taste the sweet nectar of your blood that he so craved, he’d make you just like him and truly keep you for eternity. But that day wasn’t coming anytime soon.

He refused to be greedy just this once, deciding he wasn’t ready to take away your love of sunny days and the warmth of your skin, the thrum of a pulse in your veins. He wasn’t ready to ruin the simple pleasures of being a human being. But he knew he could never stand to lose you to something as menial as old age, or stand by and let some tragedy befall you. Biting you is like his sick way of protecting you, of showing you his love and devotion, even if you don’t know it yet, even if it takes you time to understand. It’d happen no matter what, he knew, but he’d let you enjoy those bright days in ignorance a little while longer.

Remmick can smell it on you now, the hours you’d spent in the sun earlier today, selling your baked goods at the market. The coldness within his bones seeks out your heat, desperate to bask in it and take it for his own. You give him a pleased hum as he grips your waist, blankets being moved aside to reveal your body to him. You’re pliant in his hold, always eager to give in, always eager to let him take control. It’s nice when you can step outside of yourself and just be, something you’ve only been able to do with him.

You can tell that he’s softer this time, his touch more reverent, something about it full of more longing like he’s memorizing every bit of you. He holds you like a man making love to his wife, not a monster clutching his possession so nobody else takes it. His mouth on yours is sensual, a twin to the hands beneath your nightdress, steadily bunching the material up your body so the air kisses along your flesh and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“Shit, darlin’, yer too perfect.” Remmick mutters, nearly breathless as he looks down at you, your supple curves, the expanse of your breasts and stomach that nearly has him drooling—not from hunger, but from pure want- no, pure need for you. Even after all this time, his attention still makes you squirm, your thighs squeezing together subconsciously. His eyes track the movement like a predator, the burning hue of red steadily consuming his irises once more.

One of his hands moves lower, parting your legs with ease and running his fingers along your clothed cunt. He hums to himself, feeling the way your wetness has dampened your underwear. “Missed me, huh?” He says, his crooked teeth showing in his smirk. He loves that all you can do is nod, a pathetic little noise coming from you. The scent of your arousal hits him like a truck, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as it seems to ignite his blood with desire. You smell so goddamn sweet, like the ripest fruit sitting ready for him to take and sink his teeth into.

Your underwear is moved aside and you jolt at that first contact, his fingers dragging up through your folds and collecting your slick. You whimper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck again, a deep groan coming from him with his inhale. As his thumb rolls your clit, his other hand comes up to knead a breast beneath his palm, the cold metal of his ring nipping at your skin. You can feel the way Remmick’s chest heaves against you, his desperate breaths fanning across your throat between his open-mouthed kisses.

You gasp when two fingers sink into your heat, your hands coming to scrabble at his shoulders. You always take him easily, your body attuned to him alone, like he’s branded into your very essence. It drives him crazy. “Fuck, Remmick-“ You whine, arching into his touch. He responds instantly to you saying his name; a harsher squeeze to your breast, a little show of his teeth against your neck, his hips rutting against you in search of friction. His name coming from you is like touching two wires together, sending sparks through his rotten veins. He’d happily walk into the sun as long as your voice is the last thing he hears.

You writhe under his weight, pleasure running like a wildfire beneath your skin. He devours every moan, whine, and gasp he pulls out of you, his erection painful in his pants from his lust and need. His fingers draw in and out of your cunt in smooth motions, pressing against the spots that have you keening, scissoring you open while your slick coats his palm. His thumb traces quick circles over your clit, listening to the way your body sings for him. He knows you’re close, your noises raising in pitch, your nails digging into his back, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

“C’mon darlin’, give it to me.” Remmick encourages, lifting just enough to look at your face, your expression twisted with pleasure. Tears edging the corners of your eyes, your pretty mouth dropped open, your cheeks flushed. Your hands rest of either side of his jaw, drawing him in and kissing him deeply as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans appreciatively while you moan into his mouth, shudders wracking your body. He rides you through your orgasm, steadily bringing you down from that high as he practically engulfs you with his muscled form like he needs there to not be a singular inch of space between you. “My sweet girl.” He whispers against your mouth, a string of spit connecting you, his eyes ablaze with his desire.

As your underwear is tossed to some unknown corner, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt, shoving it aside to finally free his aching cock, precum beading at the tip. He runs his slick-covered hand along his length, happily coating himself in your release. He gives a sound halfway between a hum and a moan. “Fuck, darlin’, I need ya…” He practically gasps against your collarbones, his cock slipping between your folds, collecting the remainder of your cum. “Need ya so bad.”

You both moan in tandem when he at last thrusts into you, his hips flush to yours and filling you so completely in the way he’s done countless times before. His hand suddenly finds yours, your fingers intertwining and gripping on to the other so tightly it’s like you’re scared they’ll disappear if you let go. He draws out to the tip only to then slam back in, ecstasy simmering in his veins now that he can take you. He bites your skin between his blunt teeth, teasing that goldmine of ambrosia waiting just beneath, calling to him. He’s dreamt of the day he can finally drink from you, can finally have more than just the few drops that bubble to the surface from a cut or him biting too hard. He pushes those thoughts away now, not daring to tempt his appetite and instead focusing on the way your pussy holds onto him like a vice.

Your free hand comes up to card through his sweat-soaked hair, his short bangs plastered to his forehead. You grip at the strands for purchase as he sets an unrelenting, steady pace, his desperate pleas and vows to you a constant in your ear. You know for a fact no man’s ever loved you the way he does, no man’s ever been this desperate for you, so willing to get on his knees just for you to look at him. You welcomed him in, gave him something to hold on to and call his own, some place to belong—and he’ll spend the rest of his eternity showing you his gratitude.

You moan loud after a particularly harsh thrust, his grip on you tightening as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, the one that knocks the breath from your lungs and has you seeing stars. “So beautiful, sweet girl, y’sound so nice.” Remmick pants, his drool that’s begun to fall smearing along your skin. “Feel so good, so fuckin’ tight fer me.”

You practically chant his name mixed with a slew of curses, voice punctuated by his rutting into you. He has you pinned to the mattress, his muscles flexing against you with his efforts, making sure you stay right where he wants you. He licks up your neck, tasting the saltiness of your sweat, inhaling the drug that is your scent, heightened by your pleasure and mixed with something intoxicating. His groan falls off into a whine, mind overridden by his adoration for you and his lust, chasing the release he can feel building.

He knows it’s the same for you, he can feel your flutters around his cock, that knot within you growing to the point of soon coming undone. His free hand releases your hip to find your clit, rubbing jerky, uneven circles over the sensitive bud while you writhe in an attempt to get away from the overload of pleasure. Remmick never gives you the chance, your body tensing as that second orgasm crashes over you like an angry wave, your noises becoming broken and breathless.

Remmick’s eyes nearly roll back from the way your pussy grips his cock, his forehead falling to your chest as he tries to laugh and fails. “Shit, suckin’ me in. Fuck, sweet thing- I can’t-“ He manages one last thrust before he cums deep inside you, his words breaking off with a wail, your walls painted white with his spend.

You both lay there for a moment, motionless in the aftermath of release, combined sweat covering your bodies and your hands still locked together. You and him shudder when his cock slips out of you, your shared cum beginning to seep from you in his absence.

Remmick is the first to regain himself, as always, his lips leaving gentle kisses on the space between your breasts and up your throat and jaw before reaching your mouth. He kisses you sweetly, then pulling back to bring your hand to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on your knuckles, on your wedding ring. “My perfect girl.” He murmurs. “So good to me.”

You smile tiredly, your arms slinging across his shoulders. “Could say the same to you.” You tease. You then sigh contentedly, bringing him in and encouraging him to lay on your chest. “I love you, Remmick, I hope you know that.”

Those three words, so simple and yet so damning, always make him stop. He has to run them over in his mind, like he doesn’t believe they can actually be said to a thing like him. His hold on your hips tightens, his face nuzzling into you as if to hide from that phrase. “‘Course I do. Love you too, darlin’.” He mumbles, the words still foreign on his old tongue. Your smile softens, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. You pull the covers back up around you both, encasing him in the warmth that he lacks.

Outside, you can hear the familiar early morning sounds of the South; the birds chirping, the bugs buzzing in their swarms, and the occasional car sputtering by. The world wakes up beyond your reinforced curtains, basking in the sunlight that Remmick so violently hides away from. He knows that in a few hours you’ll go out and join them, greeting your neighbors and sharing recent news, playing a game of normalcy so nobody asks too many questions about the husband they’ve never seen.

But for right now, he’ll enjoy being able to hold you and feel your body right against his, your steady heartbeat drumming in his ear as sleep pulls you away. He’ll enjoy having you all to himself in the safety of the dark before you step out into the daylight and leave him behind.

#finally finished editing this omg #sorry for the wait!!#I hope this is alright 🧎#sinners Remmick #remmick #remmick x reader #remmick smut #vampire fanfic #jinx-xxed asks

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whosashan · 4 months ago

Note

hello helloo!!! ♥️♥️ sending you love 💕 i want to ask for a request about lads. yk the tiktok prank where the bf is sleeping and the gf was waking him up, telling him he have to hide bc her "bf" is here? 😂 i know this would ate hard with xavier. anyhow you can make headcanons about it?? <3

thank you and have a nice day 🧚‍♀️

SNEAKYYY

PAIRING: lads men x gn!nonmc!reader (Caleb calls you pipsqueak, though - I just think it's cute:(()

SYNOPSIS: What did you expect when you woke your lover up in a panic, telling him to hide because your “boyfriend” just got home? Are you ready to face the consequences? (a little suggestive, I guess?)

A/N: Thank you for the request. Hope you enjoy!

Stumbling upon a new TikTok trend, you couldn’t resist the temptation. The setup was simple—wake your lover in a panic, tell him he needs to hide because your “boyfriend” just got home, and see how he reacts. A harmless prank, really.

Or so you thought.

With a sly grin and your heart thrumming with anticipation, you turned toward the man peacefully asleep beside you. His breathing was slow, steady, his face relaxed in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. He looked so serene, so blissfully unaware of the chaos you were about to unleash.

But oh, if only you had known.

Xavier

Xavier’s face was peaceful, content in the depths of sleep. His breathing was slow, steady, and every now and then, a soft sigh escaped his lips. From the way his brows twitched ever so slightly, he had to be having a good dream—you wondered what it was about.

And you were about to ruin it.

Suppressing a giggle, you placed your hands on his broad shoulders and started shaking him frantically, your voice laced with urgency.

"Xavier! Wake up!"

He groaned, his face scrunching up in sleepy protest as he buried himself deeper into the pillow. His lips formed the smallest pout, reluctant to part from the dream world. Slowly, his heavy eyelids fluttered open, hazy and unfocused as they met yours.

You took your chance.

"Xavier! My boyfriend's here! You need to hide, quickly!"

Your voice dripped with manufactured panic, and honestly? Your acting was Oscar-worthy.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his brain clearly not catching up yet. He let out another sleepy hum, eyes lazily shutting again. With a huff, you grabbed his face between your hands and pinched his cheeks in an attempt to wake him up faster. But instead of reacting, he only nuzzled into your touch, a content sigh leaving his lips.

Adorable.

And then—his entire body tensed.

His eyes snapped open, sharp and alert, and before you could register it, he bolted upright. His expression had darkened instantly, any trace of sleep now completely erased.

"What—" His voice was rough, hoarse from sleep. His brows furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes before it was quickly replaced by something else. Something much, much more dangerous. "I'm your boyfriend."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Hide under the bed!" You insisted, struggling to keep a straight face, though his reaction was making it very difficult.

But Xavier wasn't having it.

Ignoring your words entirely, he grabbed your wrists and, in one swift motion, flipped you beneath him. You gasped, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he hovered over you, his grip unyielding.

"Who are you talking about?" His voice was lower now, edged with something possessive, almost feral. His usual easy-going demeanor was long gone, replaced with something far more intense. His fingers dug into your wrists, firm yet careful, as if he was fighting the urge to squeeze harder.

You blinked at him, momentarily speechless. This was not what you had prepared for. Chaos? Yes. A dramatic reaction? Of course. But this? The way his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling heavier, his entire body radiating something primal—oh, you had underestimated him.

"Xavier—it was just a prank!" you finally stammered, eyes wide.

He searched your face for a moment, his grip still tight. Then, before you could say another word, he dipped down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. A gasp escaped you before you could stop it.

“…Is that so?” he murmured, his warm breath fanning against your pulse. His teeth grazed the spot lightly before sinking in just enough to make your body jolt. "Do you think that was funny?"

A shiver ran down your spine, excitement creeping up your skin at the sheer dominance in his voice. It wasn’t unusual for Xavier to get jealous, but this?

Lord have mercy.

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, your voice slightly breathless. "I just wanted to see how you'd react—"

His rough hands suddenly cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to look at him. His gaze was unreadable, but the corner of his lips curled just slightly—oh, you knew that smirk.

"I’ll show you real fun," he muttered darkly.

And just like that, his mouth was back on you, his hands traveling lower, as he made sure you understood exactly why no one else could ever take his place.

And… other places, too.

Zayne

Looking over at your boyfriend, you almost felt guilty.

Zayne looked utterly at peace, his face relaxed in deep slumber, the steady rhythm of his breath tickling your skin as he lay half-draped over you. He almost looked angelic, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting golden hues over his features.

Almost.

Because in just a few seconds, you were about to drag him straight down from his heavenly repose.

A devilish grin crept onto your lips as you admired your handiwork. You had rehearsed this moment—every word, every inflection. Zayne was sharp, observant to an almost terrifying degree, and if you wanted this prank to work, you had to be convincing.

Taking a deep breath, you launched into your performance.

“God, Zayne! My boyfriend’s here! Wake up!” you whisper-yelled, lacing your voice with expertly crafted panic. To sell it further, you lightly patted his cheek—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to jolt him from sleep.

His reaction was immediate.

His brows furrowed as he cracked open one hazy eye, the sleep still thick in his expression. For a brief moment, it seemed like he was still lost in his dreams, but then, as if on instinct, he swiftly rolled off you and pushed himself upright.

Without a word, he started toward the door.

Your lips parted in shock. Wait, was he actually leaving?!

But then—he stopped.

His body went unnaturally still, tension creeping into his frame. And then, ever so slowly, he turned his head over his shoulder, pinning you with a sharp, unreadable gaze.

“…Excuse me?”

The sheer offense in his voice nearly made you break character. His brows were slightly raised, his mouth parted just enough to showcase his disbelief.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.

“Zayne, quick! He’ll be here any second now!” you urged, pressing your hands against his back in a futile attempt to move him.

But he didn’t budge.

He turned fully to face you, his towering presence suddenly suffocating. His eyes, darkened by the lingering haze of sleep, now held something far more dangerous beneath their surface.

“…Are you cheating on me?”

The way he asked it—low, slow, as if he could barely force the words past his lips—made your stomach drop.

For a fleeting second, you actually felt guilty. Not because the prank was cruel, but because of how easily your performance had convinced him.

“No!” you blurted out, dropping the act entirely. “It was a prank! A stupid TikTok trend! I swear, I’d never—”

Before you could finish, Zayne moved.

In one smooth motion, he lifted you off the ground, making you gasp as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His arms locked around you, holding you effortlessly, his grip firm but controlled.

His eyes darkened in an unfamiliar way.

“I see,” he murmured, voice like silk wrapped around steel. “So, you think deception is funny?”

You swallowed, heart hammering against your ribs as he tilted his head, his breath ghosting against your jaw.

“I-I didn’t mean—”

“I hope you’ve already thought of a way to compensate me for this emotional turmoil,” he mused, his fingers tightening around your thighs just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His tone was teasing, laced with amusement—but there was something else beneath it, something dangerous.

A warning.

Zayne was nothing if not thorough in proving a point.

And by the way he looked at you, you had no doubt that by the end of the night, you would never dare to prank him like this again.

Rafayel

Rafayel lay sprawled across you, his long legs draped over your form as he slept soundly, his soft snores barely audible. His body was heavy with exhaustion—he had been painting non-stop for days, pouring himself into his art until sleep had finally claimed him.

You smiled to yourself, suppressing the giggle threatening to escape. He looked so peaceful, so utterly lost in his dreams.

And you? You were about to ruin it.

Without hesitation, you wiggled his shoulders dramatically, shaking him until his brows furrowed and his lashes fluttered open.

"Rafayel!" you whisper-yelled, gripping his hand in faux urgency. "My boyfriend's here—quick, hide!"

A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he blinked up at you, clearly still tangled in the fog of sleep.

"What nonsense are you spewing now?" His voice was rough, hoarse with sleep, but something in his gaze darkened—not with confusion, but with something else.

Before you could react, his arm wrapped around your waist, effortlessly yanking you back onto the bed. You let out a startled squeak as your body collapsed onto his, your palms pressing against the firm warmth of his chest.

"What—Rafayel! He'll see you!" You struggled to maintain the panic in your voice, but the way his hooded gaze settled on you made it very difficult.

"Good." His response was unexpected, unnervingly calm.

Your breath hitched.

"...Huh?" That was not the reaction you anticipated.

He exhaled slowly, fingers curling around your wrist as he brought it to his lips. His mouth ghosted over your skin before his teeth grazed it, a slow, teasing drag that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let him see," he murmured, his voice deep, deliberate. "Maybe I could teach him a thing or two."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Your carefully rehearsed act? Gone. Completely obliterated by the way he looked at you, by the way his fingers brushed over your pulse point as if he could feel the way it had started to race.

"W-what?" You stuttered, your mind suddenly blank.

He hummed in amusement, his hands gripping your waist before flipping you beneath him in one smooth, effortless motion. His lips skimmed the sensitive skin along your neck, his breath warm against your pulse.

"Next time," he murmured against your ear, his teeth lightly grazing the shell, "if you plan to prank me, be prepared to deal with the consequences."

Your breath caught as his fingers trailed lower, his tone as smooth as silk yet laced with something undeniably dangerous.

"Waking me from a perfectly good dream just for this?" He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "I do believe you owe me proper compensation."

Oh, you were in trouble.

But maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind one bit.

Sylus

Sylus lay beside you, his breathing steady, his chiseled frame relaxed against the sheets. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast golden shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the smooth lines of his jaw and the way his dark lashes rested against his cheekbones. He looked untouchable like this—serene, at peace.

But not for long.

A mischievous grin curled on your lips as you hovered over him, suppressing a giggle. You had this planned perfectly. Sylus was sharp, calculated—always ten steps ahead—but if you played it right, maybe, just maybe, you’d catch him off guard.

You shook his shoulder dramatically, gasping.

"Sylus! My boyfriend’s here—you need to hide, now!"

His eyes opened immediately, dark irises meeting yours, unbothered, unreadable. A slow blink. Then another.

Silence.

Then, as if waking at his own pace, he stretched, exhaling through his nose. His lips quirked into something between amusement and irritation. "Mm," he hummed, voice still thick with sleep, "interesting."

You pushed his chest, trying to feign urgency. "Sylus, go! He’s gonna be here any second!"

For a fleeting moment, he almost humored you—his body tensing slightly, his gaze flicking to the door as if he were genuinely considering it.

And then, just as quickly, his amusement won.

He tilted his head, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk. "As if someone else would dare to even look at you."

Your stomach flipped at the certainty in his tone.

Before you could react, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you down until your breath hitched and your body pressed flush against his.

"Nice try," he murmured against your ear, his voice a low, teasing whisper. "But you forget—I know you." His grip tightened, firm but never painful. "And I know you wouldn’t be so careless as to let another man think he could have what’s mine."

Your breath caught, completely thrown off your game.

He chuckled, deep and rich, enjoying the way your face betrayed you. "Mm. What’s wrong?" His fingers trailed down your spine, deliberate, slow. "You were so convincing a moment ago."

You swallowed hard. "It—it was just a prank," you admitted, voice smaller than you intended.

"I know," he murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers. "But tell me—was it worth the consequences?"

Before you could ask what consequences he meant, he had already flipped you beneath him, his knee pressing between your thighs, his lips ghosting over your pulse point.

"You just love testing me, don’t you, sweetie?" he mused, his breath warm against your skin.

You should have known better.

Playing games with Sylus?

You never really won.

Caleb

Caleb was sprawled out beside you, limbs thrown haphazardly across the bed, his cheek smushed into the pillow, messy hair falling over his closed eyes. His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, the steady sound of his breathing almost lulling you to sleep.

He looked so peaceful. Sweet, even.

Too bad you were about to ruin that.

Suppressing a grin, you shook his shoulder frantically. "Caleb! Wake up!"

He groaned, face scrunching up as he tried to burrow deeper into the pillow.

You slapped his arm, urgency laced in your voice. "Caleb! My boyfriend’s here! You have to hide!"

That got his attention.

With a confused grunt, he blinked up at you, eyes bleary with sleep. His lips parted slightly as he took in your panicked expression, still groggy. "Huh?"

"Go! You need to hide!" You tugged at his wrist.

For a second, he seemed to actually consider it. He rubbed his eyes, blinking sluggishly, as if his brain was trying to reboot. Then, suddenly, he stopped.

Something clicked.

And then he smirked.

"Ohhh," he drawled, stretching his arms over his head. "That kind of prank."

Your stomach dropped. Of course he would know.

Oh no.

Before you could react, Caleb grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His boyish grin was still there, but there was something else beneath it now—something darker, something sharp.

"You really think that’s funny, huh, pipsqueak?" His voice was still light, teasing—but his grip on your waist? Not so much.

You swallowed. "I—I thought you’d freak out more."

He snorted. "That's funny." After all, he knew your every move.

Your breath hitched.

Caleb was the laid-back type, all smiles and easy laughter—but push the right buttons? And suddenly, that warmth turned into something possessive. Something dangerous.

His fingers dug into your waist just enough to make your skin tingle. "But now that I am awake," he murmured, leaning in close, "I think I deserve some kind of payback for my so-called emotional distress and lack of sleep."

"Caleb—"

"Shh," he cooed, lips ghosting over your jaw. "You wanted to see me riled up, didn’t you?" He grinned, but his eyes held a warning. "Congratulations, pipsqueak. You got exactly what you wanted."

His hand trailed lower down your waist.

Oh. You were so screwed.

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adeptustemptations · 7 days ago

Note

How do you think caleb or any of the others lads guys would react to their wife lactating? 👀 do you think that they'd be down to try it? I love your writing!! 💗💗

Honey, is that...? 🍼

(wc. 2.1k) How would the LADS boys react when they spot you, their wife, lactating?

featuring: rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader, zayne x reader, xavier x reader (all separate) warnings: mild smut, mdni.

a/n: first request down! i definitely think all of the boys would be down to try it LOL. i had so much fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy! c:

🧜 RAFAYEL:

At first, you think Rafayel’s being moody because of something work related. Probably just something about him not getting inspiration for his next piece.

He's quiet during dinner, pushing his food around with the fork, glancing at you between bites but saying nothing. Then he sighs. Dramatically. Like you’ve just told him the love of his life is marrying someone else.

“Do you need the tub prepared?” you ask, gently patting the baby's mouth with a cloth as your baby drifts off to sleep, full and milk-drunk in your arms.

He shrugs. “No.”

Another sigh. Even more dramatic this time.

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

Silence.

You put the baby down in the bassinet, tiptoeing back to the couch where he’s brooding like a man personally victimized by your child. You sit beside him and poke his thigh.

“Rafayel. Talk.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just shifts in his seat dramatically, like you should already know why he’s in a mood.

You raise a brow. “Raf?”

“…Why does he get to taste it?” he finally mutters.

You blink. “What?”

Rafayel lifts his gaze, eyes narrowed. “Your milk. The baby gets all of it. Meanwhile, I, your husband, don’t even get to try?”

You stare at him, baffled, amused, a little turned on by how offended he looks.

He shifts closer suddenly, tone softening like he’s trying to guilt you.

“You used to let me suck on them all the time,” he mumbles, voice pitiful. “Now I get nothing.”

“Rafayel Qi,” you say, laughing despite yourself. “You’re jealous of your own child?”

“He doesn’t even appreciate it,” Rafayel huffs dramatically. “He’s just... drinking. No compliments. No praise. No loving gaze. No eye contact.” He places a hand over his heart. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“You want to flirt with my boobs while I’m nursing?”

He nods solemnly. “And after.”

You blink. “Raf.”

“No, no, go ahead. Ignore me. That’s fine.” He gestures grandly, flopping back on the couch like a neglected kid in a drama.

“I mean, I get it,” Rafayel huffs, gesturing vaguely toward the baby now blissfully passed out at the bassinet. “He needs it. It’s nourishment. Bonding. Blah blah. But like, what about me? A stranger in my own marriage.”

You roll your eyes. “Then ask.”

He freezes. Turns to you slowly.

“…Seriously?”

You nod. “If you’re that curious, then fine. Go ahead.”

Wasting no moment, he immediately latches onto you, and his reaction is instant. His eyes roll back. A full-body shudder.

He suckles on your nipple with the eagerness of a thirsty man who had just found water after days of being dehydrated. When a bit of milk manages to escape from the side? He immediately laps it up, wasting no drop.

He pulls back, breathless. Dazed. “...Fuck."

Then he smirks.

“Alright. New plan. Let’s have six more kids.”

You shove him off the couch.

🐦‍⬛ SYLUS:

Everyone in the N109 Zone knows that Sylus doesn’t kneel.

He doesn’t plead.

He doesn’t repeat himself.

He doesn’t need to.

He gives orders, and people obey. His name alone strikes fear into civilians and corrupt officials alike. He's the kind of man who takes what he wants, and everyone bends at his will.

But you?

You’re the one thing he never commands.

Because with you, he never wants to.

And right now? He’s at your feet.

Literally.

It starts when you’re in the privacy of your home, in a soft robe, curled on the couch with your baby fast asleep in the bassinet. You’re drowsy and glowing, eyes heavy from the feeding, your robe slipping just slightly to reveal a glistening patch where you’ve started to leak again.

Sylus was reading some documents, possibly just about a new batch of weapons shipped to one of his armories. All that boring stuff. When he looks at you, his eyes immediately zero to your chest.

He freezes.

The documents clattered to the ground.

You glance at him, confused. “Sylus?”

But he’s already closing the space between you. You see it, the desire in his eyes as he kneels before you, palms on your thighs, breath hot and uneven.

“Please.”

His voice is hoarse. Ragged. Barely a whisper.

You blink. “Huh?”

“I need to taste you, sweetie.” He says it like it physically hurts to admit, jaw clenched.

“Can I try? Please?”

Your breath hitches. “Sylus—”

“I never beg,” he murmurs, leaning forward, brushing his lips against the skin of your breast. “But I’ll get on my knees for this. For you.”

He doesn’t ask again.

Just lowers his mouth to your breast and licks. The moment the white liquid hits his tongue, everything changes.

His lips part in stunned disbelief. Then, he groans, deep and guttural, like you just unlocked something feral in him.

“You taste sweet,” he rasps. He’s already latching on you again, open-mouthed, greedy.

“Fuck. You taste better than anything.”

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to devour you. There’s nothing classy about the way he sucks at you–it’s messy, hungry, possessive. Like he’s waited his whole life for this and didn’t even know it.

You try to say something, to make a joke; “You’re worse than the baby.”

But Sylus growls into your skin, low and dark: “I’ll give you another one. I’ll fill you up again, if that’s what it takes to keep you like this.”

Your breath stutters. “Sylus—”

“No one else gets this. No one else gets to taste you like this.” He presses his palm to your womb. “You hear me? Only me.”

And you believe him. Because when Sylus Qin finds something he likes?

He gets it.

🍎 CALEB:

It starts with the panties.

Caleb thinks he’s subtle about it. Volunteering to do your laundry in the pretense that he 'just wants to help', setting aside a pair that smells like you, worn, soft, intimate. The design doesn't matter too, the one with lace? Spectacular. The cotton ones he bought with the apple patterns? Give him 14 of them right now. He tells himself it’s harmless, just something to keep close when you're gone on long shifts or too tired to stay up with him after work from the Hunter's Association.

When you've caught him in the act, all he does is raise an eyebrow, as if you're the one being strange.

“What?” he says, with that deadpan tone of his, nose still pressed into the fabric. “You smell nice.”

You should be flustered, but you’ve been married to this man long enough to know how weirdly intense he can be. It's part of the Caleb experience. When you tried scolding him because some of your pairs have gone missing, all he does is shoot you his signature puppy-eyed look.

But then after giving birth to your baby, everything changes. Your underwear drawer's surprisingly complete, and none of the pairs have gone missing. You'd think that maybe Caleb had just become too busy tending to the baby to even focus on his needs.

But what you don't notice is how his touches linger longer during nighttime cuddles, especially around your chest, or the way he glances at your shirt when it dampens just a little.

It happens when you’re fresh out of the shower. You're drying your hair, not noticing at first that the front of your shirt is damp. A few minutes later, you glance down and–

Oh.

You’re leaking.

“Caleb?" you call out, not thinking much of it, “I think I’m lactating again. I forgot to pump.”

You don’t expect a reaction. You expect him to say something like, ‘Want me to grab the pump?’

What you don’t expect is for Caleb to freeze in the doorway, eyes locked on the wet patch spreading across the fabric.

“...Again?” he says quietly.

You blink at him. “Yeah? That’s usually how it works.”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and before you can respond, he’s across the room, pushing your shirt up to your chest with eagerness, hunger glinting in those beautiful purple eyes.

“Let me taste.”

Your brain short circuits. “Wha–Caleb–?”

But he’s already there, lips closing around your nipple, hand firmly planted at your waist like he owns you.

And when he moans? You swear it’s the dirtiest sound he’s ever made.

He drinks like he’s been deprived. Like this was what he needed all along, and nothing else compares. Not the panties. Not your bath soap. Not even the taste of your skin.

No–this. This is divine. This is yours.

Later, when you're sprawled on the bed, dazed and breathless, he kisses your stomach and murmurs softly:

"Maybe we should have another baby. Just so you don't run out."

You laugh. “You're a freak.”

“I’m serious.”

He looks up at you, utterly sincere, eyes dark with something that’s not quite lust–it’s obsession, devotion, need.

And you know then: he’s addicted.

Not just to you.

But to every part of you.

☃️ ZAYNE:

You already knew Zayne had a problem with sweets.

The bakery receipts stuffed in his lab coat. The way he always “accidentally” wanders into the dessert section at the grocery store. The time he got bribed by Dr. Greyson with macarons.

But this?

You hadn’t seen coming.

It starts innocently enough; he’s helping you undress after a long day, brushing his fingers along the curve of your side as he unclasps your bra. You’re a few weeks postpartum, still sore and soft in all the ways he loves. He’s kneeling in front of you, peppering lazy kisses along your stomach when he notices the damp spot on your breast.

"Hmm?" He hums, brows furrowing. He leans in closer.

"You're leaking."

You sigh. “Yeah. I forgot to pump again. I’ll go get–”

“No,” Zayne cuts in, already cupping your breast in his hand. “Let me.”

“Zayne–!”

But he’s already latched on before you can finish, mouth closing around you like it’s second nature.

The first taste hits him like a drug.

His eyes widen.

Then flutter shut.

He moans. Actually moans. Like he just took a bite out of the best dessert of his life.

“Dearest,” he breathes when he finally pulls back, his lips still wet. “Why didn’t you tell me it tastes like this?”

You blink, a little dazed. “Like… what?”

He licks his lips. “Sweet. Warm...”

Then his gaze flicks up, dark and hungry. “Better than any dessert I've ever tasted.”

Your face flushes. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, already nudging you backward onto the bed, crawling over you with sinful intent. “But you married me.”

And just like that, he’s latched on again, slow, thorough, absolutely obsessed. Like he’s savoring every drop. Like you’re his final meal, and he’s a man who’s starved.

When he finally pulls away, lips wet and pupils blown wide, he looks like he’s come undone.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he mutters:

“…I think I need to adjust my meal plan.”

You raise a brow. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, dead serious. “You’re my new dessert. Effective immediately.”

⭐ XAVIER:

It’s still dark out when Xavier stirs beside you.

He wakes like he always does. Quiet, warm, arms automatically reaching for your sleeping form. He pulls you close, breath brushing on your neck, his hand splaying across your waist under the covers.

That’s when he notices it.

A damp spot on your shirt. Right over your chest. You’re on your side, curled towards him, unaware.

He blinks once. Then twice. Brain still foggy from sleep.

But then he leans closer, nose brushing against the fabric, breathing in the scent that’s distinctly you. Warm and milky. Sweet.

Something stirs in him. Not lust, something gentler. Deeper.

An ache in his chest he can’t explain. Like he wants to be closer, somehow. Like he needs to feel it. Taste it.

He shifts beneath the blankets, carefully nudging the neckline of your shirt down. He presses a kiss just above your nipple, reverent, before wrapping his lips softly around it.

You stir, eyelids fluttering. “...Xavi?” you murmur, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Mm,” he hums against your skin, mouth still lazily suckling. “Just helping.”

You blink blearily at him. “That’s… not how the pump works.”

“Don’t care,” he whispers. “Tastes better this way.”

You huff a soft laugh, too tired to scold him, too warm to care. “You’re unbelievable.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark hair tousled, eyes still heavy lidded.

“It’s comforting,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re comforting.”

And with that, he tucks himself back into your arms, head resting on your chest, one hand lazily cupping your breast. You feel the occasional soft suckle as he drifts off again, slow and rhythmic, like a baby himself.

You close your eyes.

The room is quiet. The baby’s still asleep. And for now... just for now, there’s no need to move.

You both fall back into sleep, tangled together, Warm, safe, and full.

—

[MASTERLIST]

2K notes · View notes

mssalo · 9 months ago

Text

access

You and your husband, Joel, share a deep understanding - your body is his, to fuck and taste whenever he desires, without question or hesitation.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, free use dynamics, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (woken with head), getting fucked awake, rough possessive sex, Intense dirty talk, breeding kink, light choking and nipple play, cum play

5k, smut, one shot

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the first rays of early morning sunlight slipping through the cracks in the curtains. Everything was still, the kind of quiet that comes just before the world begins to stir.

The air was warm, thick with a sense of calm, and the only sound breaking that silence was the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you lay beside him, deeply asleep. You looked peaceful, the blankets tangled loosely around your legs, your hair spilling across the pillow.

You were completely unaware of the storm building beside you.

Joel lay next to you, half-propped on one elbow, his gaze fixed on your body. The soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the curve of your hips barely hidden beneath the sheets, the way your lips parted ever so slightly as you exhaled—all of it stirred a deep, familiar hunger in him. His eyes moved over you slowly, tracing every line, every curve, like he was memorizing the sight of you, though he had done it countless times before.

His cock was already hard, pressing insistently against the fabric of his boxers, the ache intensifying with every second he spent watching you. The urge to reach out and touch you, to feel your warmth beneath his fingers, was overwhelming. He wanted you, needed you, in that primal, all-consuming way that had woken him up in the first place.

You were beautiful—peaceful, serene, utterly unaware of the effect you had on him. But the heat building in his belly, the tightness in his groin, was becoming too much to ignore. His desire for you had grown with every second, and the free use pact you shared meant that he didn’t need to hold back. You were his to take whenever the need struck, and right now, that need was impossible to resist.

His hand hovered just above the sheets for a moment, hesitating only long enough to savor the anticipation. Then, slowly, he let his fingers brush lightly over the curve of your hip, the warmth of your skin seeping through the thin fabric of your sleepwear. His touch was featherlight at first, testing, waiting to see if you stirred. But you remained blissfully asleep, your body soft and pliant under his hand.

He grinned to himself, the heat inside him intensifying. His fingers traced a slow path down the length of your thigh, parting your legs ever so slightly, making space for him to take what was already his.

You shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping your lips as his hand crept higher, brushing against your soft pussy. He groaned quietly, his breath hitching at the contact, his fingers exploring further. He could already feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to him even in your sleep, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through him.

The room was still quiet, bathed in that soft morning glow, but the tension was palpable. Joel’s body was tense with desire, every nerve alive with the need to take you, to feel you, to bury himself deep inside you. And with the way you lay there, so peaceful, so completely his, there was no reason to wait any longer. You were his, and this morning, he was going to claim you all over again.

Without making a sound, he moved down the bed, the covers slipping away as he positioned himself between your legs. His eyes lingered on the way your thighs pressed together, how peaceful you looked in your half-awake state, blissfully unaware of what he had planned for you. He could already feel his cock twitch in anticipation.

Slowly, gently, he eased your legs apart, his hands warm against your skin as he spread you open, revealing the soft folds of your pussy glistening faintly in the dim light.

He didn’t rush, savoring the moment, his lips hovering just above your heat, close enough to feel the warmth of you but not touching yet. His breath ghosted over your skin, and you stirred lightly, but you didn’t wake, your body still pliant under his hands.

He grinned to himself, eyes dark with lust as he lowered his mouth to your cunt, his tongue darting out to taste the very tip of you.

The first contact was light, barely more than a teasing flick against your folds, but the taste of you already had him groaning softly against your skin.

His tongue flattened, dragging up the length of your pussy with slow, deliberate strokes, the heat and wetness of you making him dizzy with need.

He didn’t stop, his tongue swirling around your clit, flicking and sucking gently, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your sleeping body.

You stirred again, a soft moan slipping from your lips as your hips shifted slightly against his mouth, but you still didn’t wake. He could feel you responding, feel the way your body was starting to tremble under his touch, and it only drove him wilder.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your soaked folds as he spoke. His voice was low, thick with lust, and the sound of it sent vibrations through you. “So fuckin’ sweet… always so perfect for me.”

He buried his face deeper between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you wider.

His tongue slipped between your folds, licking deep into your heat, fucking you slowly with each stroke. You whimpered in your sleep, your body responding to the pleasure even if your mind was still clouded with sleep.

He groaned as he tasted you, his tongue delving into your slick, warm cunt, savoring every drop of arousal he coaxed from you.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he growled, his voice muffled as he sucked your clit into his mouth, teasing it with slow, wet kisses. “Even when you’re sleepin’, baby, your body knows what it wants.”

He licked you harder, his tongue swirling over your clit before dipping back down to flick against your entrance. He alternated between sucking on your sensitive bud and thrusting his tongue deep inside you, his lips and tongue working you over with practiced ease.

He could feel the tension building in your body, your thighs trembling around his head as he devoured you, his mouth relentless in its assault on your pussy.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His lips closed around your clit again, sucking harder now, his tongue flicking rapidly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked against him, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you finally started to wake up, the pleasure pulling you from the haze of sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you felt was his mouth on you, his tongue licking and sucking with a desperation that made your toes curl.

Your body jerked in surprise, but he held you down, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.

“Mornin‘, baby,” he murmured against your folds, his voice dripping with lust. “You’re gonna cum for me. I’m not stoppin’ until you do.”

You gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he licked you faster, his mouth working you over with a precision that had you seeing stars.

His teeth grazed your clit lightly, just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body, before he soothed the sting with his tongue, swirling it around your swollen bud until you were trembling beneath him.

He groaned, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through you as he buried his tongue inside you again, fucking you with it in slow, deep strokes. His nose brushed against your clit, the friction making you cry out, and he growled against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs as he held you open for him.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, his voice thick and rough as he licked you harder, faster. “I can feel how close you are. You’re gonna cum all over my tongue, aren’t you? Gonna soak my fuckin’ face.”

You whimpered in response, your body writhing beneath him as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. His mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, sharp strokes that had you gasping for breath, your hands clutching at the sheets as your orgasm surged through you.

He moaned against you, his mouth still working your clit as you came, the taste of your release flooding his senses.

He didn’t stop, didn’t let up for a second as he licked you through your orgasm, his tongue swirling over your sensitive bud until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips brushing against your folds as he spoke. “Cum for me, baby. So fuckin’ good for me. I could eat this pussy all day.”

You were still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm when he finally pulled away, his lips and chin slick with your arousal as he moved back up your body. You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the hard press of his cock against your entrance.

“Time to wake up, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His cock slid inside you slowly, stretching you open as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming. His hands gripped your hips with possessive strength, holding you in place as he began to thrust, each deep, deliberate movement sending a shock of pleasure through your body.

His gaze darkened with lust, the intensity in his eyes making you shiver.

“You feel that?” he growled, his voice low and rough, his hips grinding into yours. “That’s my cock inside my perfect wife. You’re not just sweet —you’re mine to fuck, my own personal slut. Made for this.”

The way he said it, the ownership in his voice, made your body tighten around him, clenching his cock as if to keep him inside.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

His mouth found your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking it deep into his mouth. He bit down just hard enough to make you gasp, the sharp jolt of pleasure-pain only heightening the sensation of his cock pounding into you.

His other hand cupped your other breast, fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them, the roughness driving you wild.

“Such perfect tits,” he groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing the swollen bud again before sucking harder. “These belong to me too—just like this pussy. I love the way your body reacts to me, how you beg for more without even saying a word.”

He shifted his hips, slamming into you harder, the rhythm relentless now, his thrusts deep and rough.

The bed creaked beneath the force of it, your body jolting with every powerful movement, and all you could do was moan, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

“You love being mine, don’t you?” he rasped, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before moving to the other, biting down just enough to make you shudder. “You love knowing that I own you. My sweet little wife on the outside, but behind closed doors, you’re nothing but my filthy fuck toy.”

His words were so filthy, so degrading, but they only made your arousal spike higher. The dirty talk sent a rush of heat through you, your pussy squeezing around him as if begging for more.

“That’s right,” he growled, his pace quickening as he fucked you harder, his cock slamming into you with a raw, unfiltered intensity.

“I’m gonna fuck you until all you can think about is how good it feels to be filled by me. This is what you were made for—taking me, being mine, every inch of you.”

He shifted his weight slightly, freeing one hand from your breast to grab your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “I love seeing you like this,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and ragged.

“Begging for my cock, letting me use you however I want. You love being filled by me, don’t you? You love being my perfect little girl.“

His hand tightened around your throat as his thrusts became erratic, harder, more desperate.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breathing became heavier, more labored. “You’re gonna cum for me again,” he commanded, his thumb brushing over your nipple in time with his thrusts.

“You’re gonna milk my cock while I fill you up, baby. I’m gonna breed you, fill you with every last drop.”

His cock throbbed inside you as he pounded relentlessly, the wet sounds of his body slamming into yours filling the room. His hand tightened around your throat, while his other hand gripped your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple hard, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you.

He leaned down, biting at the soft skin of your neck before dragging his lips to your ear.

“You feel so good, hm?” he rasped, his voice dark and dripping with lust. “You love being owned like this. My perfect little girl, taking my cock like the slut you are for me.”

His thrusts grew deeper, harder, making you gasp with every movement, each one hitting the perfect spot inside you that made you tremble.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before he released it with a wet pop. He moved to the other breast, repeating the rough treatment, his eyes flicking up to watch your face as you moaned helplessly beneath him.

“You want me to fill you up, baby?” he growled, biting down gently on your nipple. “You want me to breed you, to fuck you full of my cum until it’s dripping out of you.”

The filthy words sent heat flooding through your body, your pussy clenching tighter around him, making him groan deep in his throat. His thrusts became more frantic, his hips slamming against yours as he fucked you harder, deeper.

“I’m gonna make you a mommy,” he snarled, his voice rough with lust. “You want that, sweet girl? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Want me to be your fuckin‘ daddy?”

His words made your mind spin, and you whimpered beneath him, the idea of him filling you, making you his in the most primal way, sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.

“Yeah, you do.” he growled, his cock pounding into you with brutal force.

“You want me to fuck you so deep, to breed you, make you a mommy with my cum. You’re gonna take it all, every last drop, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’ve filled you up. You want a daddy to fuck you, huh? You want me to give you my baby?”

You couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, the pleasure overwhelming as his dirty words pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His hand tightened around your throat just a little more, and his pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with wild desperation.

“I’m gonna breed you, baby,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum, make you mine forever. Gonna be your daddy and fuck you full until you’re dripping with it. You’ll be swollen with my baby, and you’ll love every second of it, won’t you?”

The tension snapped inside you, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, your body convulsing around his cock as you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Your pussy clenched hard around him, milking him for every drop, and he groaned deep in his chest, his cock twitching as he finally let go, his release crashing over him.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice strained with pleasure as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard, filling you with his cum. “Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna fuckin’ make you a mommy. You’ll be carrying my baby, swollen with it.”

He stayed there for a moment, buried deep inside you, both of you panting as the aftershocks of pleasure washed over you. Slowly, he pulled out, his cum already starting to drip from your swollen pussy, and he watched with satisfaction, his hand sliding down to gently rub your lower belly.

“You’re gonna look so fucking perfect with my baby inside you,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before whispering, “You’re mine. And I’m gonna fill you up again and again, until you can’t think of anything but being my good little wife… and the mother of my children.”

Joel stayed buried in the moment for a few more seconds, his hand gently stroking your belly as if imagining what it would be like to see you swollen with his child.

His touch softened, his expression turning from the raw lust that had consumed him moments before into something much more tender, loving. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, his eyes full of warmth as he looked down at you.

“Think it’ll stick this time, baby?” he asked, his voice quiet, but filled with hope.

You smiled softly up at him, reaching up to stroke his face. “I hope so, baby,” you whispered, your voice teasing but full of affection. “You’re certainly doing your best to make sure of it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, the sweetness of the gesture making your heart swell. “You enjoyed every second of it, huh?” His tone was playful now, the intensity from earlier fading into something much more comfortable, more intimate.

“Every second,” you replied, biting your lip as you added teasingly, “Daddy.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, but it was playful, his hand swatting your thigh gently. “You’re gonna make me start all over again, talkin’ like that.” He leaned down, nipping at your neck in a way that made you giggle. “Stop it, I need to get to work.”

You laughed softly, still catching your breath from everything, and wrapped your arms around his neck for a brief moment before letting go. “Can you grab eggs on your way home later, baby?” you asked, the domestic request slipping easily into the conversation, as if nothing about the morning had been out of the ordinary.

Joel grinned down at you, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But first, let’s get some coffee in us. Come on.” He gently nudged your legs apart and got up, offering his hand to pull you with him.

You accepted his hand and climbed out of bed, feeling the warm, comforting domesticity settle between you both like a cozy blanket. As the two of you headed to the kitchen, Joel kept one arm around your waist, holding you close as he moved about, getting the coffee started.

“Can’t believe I’ve got to leave this behind and go to work,” he said, shaking his head as he looked you up and down with an affectionate smile. “All this bliss - my woman teasin’ me with her ‘daddy’ talk, and I gotta put on a construction hat.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you nudged him playfully. “You’ll be home before you know it. Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”

Joel gave you a sly grin, pulling you into his chest for a brief, but warm kiss. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” His voice was teasing but full of affection as he kissed the top of your head. “I might just quit and come back early.”

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed. “We need those eggs.”

Joel chuckled, reaching for the mugs as the coffee finished brewing. “Alright, alright, eggs it is. But tonight—” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice a playful growl, “we’re pickin’ up where we left off. No escapin’ that.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full as he handed you your cup of coffee. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

· · ───

After Joel left for work, the house grew quiet, filled only with the soft hum of daily life. You went through the motions—cleaning up the breakfast dishes, folding some laundry, and putting away the little things that needed tidying. As the day passed, you couldn’t help but think of Joel, out there working hard, pushing through the long hours, his body no doubt aching from the labor.

You knew that when he came home, he would need you. That’s how it was with him—he carried the weight of the day on his shoulders, and by the time he stepped through the door, he was ready to let it all out.

By late afternoon, you decided to unroll your yoga mat in the living room, letting the warm light of the setting sun fill the space as you moved through your poses. The deep stretches pulled tension from your muscles, and for a moment, you were completely lost in the rhythm of your breathing, your body relaxing into the poses.

You didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t notice Joel coming home early. You were in a deep bend, eyes closed, when you felt the familiar presence behind you.

Before you could straighten, his hands were on your hips—firm, possessive, the way they always were when he came home after a long day. He didn’t speak at first, just a low, throaty grunt as he tugged you back into him.

You could feel the heat of his body, the intensity rolling off him like a storm, and before you could even process what was happening, he yanked your leggings down in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel muttered, his voice rough and thick with that familiar drawl. “You have no idea what kind of day I’ve had.”

His hands slid roughly over your hips, gripping you tightly as he leaned down, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

You didn’t have time to say a word before he freed himself from his jeans, pushing them down just enough to press his hard cock against your entrance. The anticipation made your body tighten in response, and you could feel your own arousal building as he held you there, hovering just at the edge of control.

“All damn day,” he growled, his voice low and strained, “all I’ve been thinkin’ about is gettin’ home, bendin’ you over, and takin’ you like this.”

With that, he thrust into you, filling you completely in one rough, deep stroke. You gasped, your body arching as he stretched you wide, his cock slamming into you with an intensity that made you dizzy. Joel didn’t ease into it—he took you hard, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back against him with each brutal thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his voice tight as he drove into you again and again. “This is what I need. All day, bustin’ my ass, and I come home to this tight little pussy waitin’ for me.”

The words were filthy, but there was a rawness to them, a desperate need that you could feel in every thrust of his hips.

He was letting everything out, the tension of the day pouring into you with every stroke of his cock. You could barely breathe, the pleasure and intensity of it all overwhelming as he used your body, his movements relentless, demanding.

“You’re always so fuckin’ perfect for me,” Joel growled, his hands sliding up your body, rough fingers grazing your skin as he yanked your tank top down, exposing your breasts.

His hands moved to your chest, grabbing your breasts roughly, his thumbs brushing over your nipples before pinching them hard. The mix of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, and you whimpered beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and dark as his hips slammed into yours, his cock filling you over and over.

“Always so good for me. I work my ass off all day, and this—this is what I need when I come home. My sweet girl, just lettin’ me take what’s mine.”

There was a tenderness hidden beneath the raw desire, the way he spoke to you like you were his safe haven, the one place where he could let go of everything. But his actions were anything but soft.

He gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with a force that made you moan, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

“You don’t know how much I need this,” Joel groaned, his pace quickening as his cock slammed into you harder, deeper. “You, here, ready for me every damn day. Letting me fuck you just like this. I don’t deserve you.”

You whimpered in response, the intensity of his words and his movements driving you closer to the edge. He was rough, unrelenting, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter as his hands roamed your body, his grip possessive, his touch demanding.

“Goddamn,” he grunted, his voice rough as his pace became even more frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, baby. Gonna empty my fuckin’ balls inside you until you’re dripping with me.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and your body responded, tightening around his cock as the pleasure built to a peak.

You couldn’t hold back anymore—the tension snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, your body trembling as you came hard around him. Your pussy clenched tight, and Joel groaned, his grip on you tightening as he felt your release.

“Fuck,” he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. You’re mine.”

With a final, deep thrust, Joel buried himself inside you, his cock throbbing as he came, spilling his hot cum deep inside you. The warmth of it spread through you, and you shuddered, still trembling from your own release as he held you there, his chest pressed against your back, both of you panting.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Joel stayed inside you, his breathing ragged, the rough edges of his desire finally softening.

But when he pulled out, his eyes darkened again, watching as his cum started to drip from your swollen pussy, a low, filthy groan escaping his throat.

“Don’t you dare let it go to waste,” he muttered, his hand suddenly firm on your lower back, pushing you down slightly so you were exposed to him fully. “Push it out for me, baby. Let me see it.”

You whimpered, your body still trembling from the intensity of everything, but you did as he said, pushing his thick cum out of you, feeling it leak from your entrance. Joel’s eyes were locked on the sight, his gaze filled with raw hunger.

“Good girl,” he growled, his hand sliding down to gather the dripping cum on his fingers. Without warning, he pressed two fingers back into you, forcing his release back inside, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as you gasped at the sudden sensation.

“You’re gonna keep it in there,” he commanded, his voice low and rough as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, spreading the warmth of his cum inside you again.

“I’m not done with you yet. Not until I make sure you’re filled.”

As you clenched around his fingers, still sensitive from everything, he pulled them out and raised them to your lips. His eyes locked with yours, dark and full of intent. “Open,” he ordered softly, pressing the cum-covered fingers to your mouth.

You obeyed, parting your lips and letting him slide his fingers inside, the taste of him filling your mouth as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Suck ‘em clean, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice both tender and commanding, watching as you did exactly that, his gaze softening just enough to make your heart flutter despite the intensity.

“Good girl. You don’t know how good you are to me,” he said quietly, his voice now a mix of gratitude and desire as he watched you.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, the roughness from earlier replaced with a deep, tender affection.

You smiled softly, his fingers still in your mouth as your eyes met his. “I’m always here for you, daddy.”

He chuckled low in his throat, pulling you closer into his chest, his breath warm against your hair. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, baby.”

After a moment of stillness, Joel slowly helped you up, his hands gentle but firm, lingering on your skin with a touch that made your body tingle. His eyes softened as they met yours, and the intense hunger from earlier melted into something warmer, more intimate. He guided you toward the bathroom, that teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, darlin’. Can’t leave my girl like this.”

You smiled, leaning into him as you walked, feeling the heat of his body still close to yours. Once inside the bathroom, you couldn’t resist a playful grin as you remembered the errand you’d sent him on. “So… did you get the eggs I asked for?”

Joel chuckled, his deep voice vibrating against you. “Yeah, fresh from the farm, just like you wanted. Thought of you the whole damn time,” he added, his tone dropping suggestively. “All I could think about was how you were gonna thank me for ‘em.”

You bit your lip, feeling the familiar heat return between you as he stood close, his fingers brushing your hip. “Well, I can’t wait to try that new recipe. You’re gonna love it.”

Joel leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll love whatever you’ve got cookin’. But let’s not pretend I’m not thinkin’ about that other way you thank me, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with that familiar, playful growl.

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer as he added with a grin, “But first… let’s get you cleaned up. I need you fresh and ready for later.”

You laughed softly, your body warming under his touch, even as you let him guide you into the shower. The water was warm, cascading over your skin as Joel’s hands followed, his fingers gentle but still teasing, touching you with an ease that made your heart flutter.

His hands slid over your body, but every once in a while, he would pause—his touch lingering just long enough to make you tremble.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, filled with affection as he washed away the day from your skin. “Don’t know what I’d do without you here to come home to.”

You smiled, leaning your head back into his chest.

Joel let out a small hum of satisfaction, his lips brushing your shoulder as his hands continued their slow exploration of your body. He wasn’t rushing, savoring every second of the intimacy between you, even as you could feel the undercurrent of playfulness in his touch.

His hands slid down your stomach, stopping just short of teasing you further, and you let out a playful whine.

“Not yet, darlin’,” he whispered with a chuckle. “We’ve got dinner to make first.”

As you stepped out of the shower, Joel wrapped you in a soft towel, pulling you close for another lingering kiss. You could feel the warmth of his love in every gesture, even in the way he gently brushed the wet strands of hair away from your face.

“So, what’s this recipe that’s got you so excited?” he asked, his voice light and teasing as he led you toward the kitchen.

“A new quiche recipe,” you said, feeling your excitement return. “I’ve been wanting to try it for a while.”

Joel grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection and mischief. “Quiche, huh? You sure you ain’t just makin’ it so I’ve got something to eat after I’ve worked you up again?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “Maybe it’s a little of both. I’ve got to keep you satisfied one way or another.”

He stepped up behind you as you pulled out the ingredients, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him. “You know I’m already more than satisfied,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. “But I won’t complain if you keep spoilin’ me.”

You leaned into him, your head resting back against his shoulder. “Well, you deserve it after a hard day’s work.”

“That I do,” Joel whispered, his hands roaming again, teasing but not pushing. “But I can’t wait for dessert.”

You laughed, swatting him playfully. “Patience, cowboy. Dinner first.”

Joel chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “Yeah, yeah,” he teased, stepping back to let you work, though his eyes followed your every movement. “But later… you and me, baby. Quiche ain’t gonna be the only thing I’m devouring.”

You glanced over your shoulder with a smirk, the playful heat between you always simmering, always alive. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you continued to prepare dinner, the warmth between you two lingered in the air. It wasn’t just in the way he looked at you with that teasing grin, but in the domestic ease you both shared—the simple joy of being together, of teasing and loving one another, no matter what the day had thrown your way.

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