justsphl - Tumblr blog

justsphl · 3 days ago

Text

「 In Need 」

single mom ! l. sophia x g ! p reader ✎𓂃 sophia always said her daughter was all she needed. but when she meets you—first, it was just sweet and harmless, until spending more time together left her realizing she needs you more than she thinks.

word count ! 11.8 k

tags ! mentions of substance abuse, g!p dom! top! reader, sub! bottom! sophia, single mom! sophia, fingering (s! receiving), oral (r! & s! receiving), penetration (s! receiving), sophia has a toxic baby daddy but they aren't together

author's note ! first time writing something like this. dont like it, dont read it, thx!

Sophia Laforteza’s life feels something along the lines of… winning the lottery.

Moving to the States was supposed to be her ticket to freedom—a life of her own, far from the shadow of her parents. But the moment she stepped off the plane, standing on U.S. soil, and got into the tiny studio apartment she’d bought online with her savings, reality hit her like a truck. Freedom and independence came with the baggage of rent, bills, odd silence, and many trials and tribulations.

Her first year of college passed with the chaos of cheap liquor, crowded parties, annoying boys, and stressful all-nighters before midterms. By the second year, she figured the party life had to end for the better—trying for better grades, student programs, and connections she’d possibly use once she graduated. Afterward, summers for Sophia didn’t mean vacation or a break; they meant internships in large office buildings, hustling for acknowledgment in places with grueling work hours.

Piece by piece, she was building a perfect future for herself. One that could stand on her own without struggle… but one crazy night destroys all of it.

Spring break of her fourth year—after a week of nonstop exams, she figured she deserved a break. If anyone were a sane person, everyone on campus would need it. So, she let herself give in to the temptation, the music, the feeling of alcohol that added pressure to her chest.

Alcohol, drugs, weed, all of it was there. But Sophia didn’t need all that, only needing a few drinks to feel a buzz, but even that wasn’t her worst decision of the night. She could’ve danced on top of tables, or even done a flip into the pool, and she probably would’ve preferred that, in the moment.

By her third drink, she ran into him. The same guy she’d been on and off with throughout her first couple of college years. One conversation into another, one simple touch on his arm became a kiss.

And when she woke the next morning, with her pounding headache, bare body, and his arm lying beneath her neck like a pillow, Sophia quickly freaked out.

It scared her not knowing everything that happened that night. She dressed up frantically and rushed out the door, leading her to sit in the driver’s seat of her car, gripping her hair in despair as she leaned on the steering wheel.

There would be days when she did her best to get her mind off it all, studying really hard, meeting up with friends when she had the time, or even having solo movie nights on her free days. It wasn’t difficult to clear her mind as she hadn’t seen that guy since that night.

That was until Sophia finally realized she had been late by four days, to be exact.

She had never been one to track her monthly with the use of menstrual apps, so maybe—just maybe—it was a little mistake in time. But when it didn’t come in the next three days, that’s when real panic began settling in.

Every time Sophia ran into him on campus—those mornings when her stomach would churn and force her to stop mid-sentence—he’d attempt small talk, pretending nothing had changed.

It only confirmed what she already knew.

He was reckless, childish, more interested in the haywire nature of college than in the thought of responsibilities. And yet, for all his flaws, he wasn’t a bad guy.

It was that one night she bumped into him buying coffee at a local cafe, craving some chocolate cupcakes. Even if she was hesitant in telling him, she knew he deserved to know. So Sophia sat him down, and he was sipping his coffee while she stared at the small cake in front of her. His reaction wasn’t what she expected, showing that he wanted to be involved. Clearly, not as a partner, but as someone who cared especially in matters like this.

That was enough for Sophia to allow. Timing even seemed perfect, as graduation was on the horizon, and she would at least be able to go through the pregnancy without judgment.

She wasn’t even sure if she could get a job immediately, especially with this baby on the way, as she would need to take maternity leave soon if she didn’t think it through. So instead of worrying so much and possibly affecting her body and baby’s health, Sophia thought to tell her parents.

At first, they were angry. Carla and Godfrey expected more from their only daughter, but they couldn’t stay mad for long, deciding to go visit her in the States so they could help their daughter in her time of need. Well, only Godfrey, as her mom was going to stay due to their family and the house.

He stayed with her, cooking her favorite foods, cleaning, going shopping with her, and more. She teared up at the thought of him helping, knowing her dad wouldn’t fail her in such a hard time.

Sophia had even juggled other options, but she was also the kind of person who believed everything happens for a reason. So if the world was going to give this gift to her, she was willing to accept it.

So by December, her daughter finally arrived. A small, perfect baby girl with dark, curious eyes that refused to stay shut for long, fluttering and crying. The perfect carbon copy of Sophia, with the father’s green eyes.

She named her Angela, then made sure her daughter carried her own surname.

With the birth of Angela, the days went by in a blur. Sophia never expected to be thrown into the motherly position so fast, but she managed and did it very well. At first, the life of a mother with a newborn felt exhausting—feeding at random times, smelly diaper changes, and late-night cries that made would have Sophia desperate for her father's help in the mornings.

He was the one who made it all possible for Sophia to live her life. Stepping into the role of caretaker for both, holding down the fort at her much larger home with Angela, one Sophia’s parents decided to buy for her. He rocked Angela to sleep, learned which lullabies soothed her best, and was honestly the best grandfather anyone could ask for. It wasn’t what Sophia had imagined for the independent life she wanted, but it was a start after everything that happened.

The plan was never for him to stay forever, knowing her dad still had to return home. He said it often, during deep conversations at dinner time, reminding himself as much as her. “Once you’re ready, Fia. Once you and Angela don’t need me here every day, I’ll head back.”

By the time Angela turned one, Sophia finally felt like she could stand on her own again.

That’s when Godfrey eventually packed his bags and traveled home. He kissed his daughter goodbye and promised to call often. Angela was now toddling around the home, speaking in fragments of words and babbles that only Sophia could fully understand.

With her dad gone, Sophia took the next step. She enrolled Angela in a daycare nearby, the same one Godfrey had found months earlier, tucked on a quiet street just a ten-minute walk from their house. A cheerful building with wide windows, painted murals of trees and animals, and teachers who seemed genuinely patient with children.

The relief Sophia felt when she left Angela there for the first time was heavier than she expected—it was a mix of relief and guilt. She’d never wanted to be the kind of mother who handed her child to strangers, especially when it was a common occurrence for family members to take care of kids. She almost spiraled that day, even almost pulling Angela out of daycare, but when she picked her daughter up that afternoon and saw her running toward her with a colorful paper with visible marker scribbles and a wide smile, she realized this wouldn’t be so bad.

Winter came again, and unlike people who hated the cold, Sophia only thought about celebrations. There would be Christmas, her own birthday, and Angela’s birthday. Of course, all the focus was on her baby, though, with cake, a few close friends from daycare, and balloons galore in the large home.

Sophia also had to keep the momentum of life going, this time, with the help of an eighteen-year-old named Hayley. A freshman in college, taking on babysitting jobs for extra money. She was the one who helped Sophia bridge the gaps when daycare hours didn’t line up with her work schedule.

Hayley picks Angela up after daycare, walks her home, feeds her, changes her, and keeps her occupied until Sophia returns from the office. Cameras were set up around the place as well, not because she didn’t trust Kayla, but because she couldn’t afford not to be cautious. Still, watching the footage most nights became unnecessary as Hayley handled everything with ease.

When Hayley’s winter break ended and the semester began, the routine had to change around, since she was only able to commit to Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. That left Sophia scrambling for a proper babysitter.

She couldn’t risk leaving Angela without care, but her job couldn’t just disappear either, and Angela’s father works every single day due to having three jobs. After a week of rearranging and biting the inside of her cheek from stress, she explained everything to her boss. It was a nerve-racking conversation, but she proposed to work from home on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays—he approved of it quickly.

The adjustment wasn’t bad, but nor was it super smooth. Working from home meant people could hear Angela’s voice during Zoom calls, or Sophia muting herself while holding her child in one arm and typing with the other. But slowly, she found a way to manage.

During late January, the cold breeze circled through the air. Sophia took her lunch break, so while driving, she ate some lunch while picking up her daughter. Coming out of the car, bundled in her coat, hair tucked under a cute beanie to warm up her ears. It would usually be a quick pick up, with Angela hugging her as soon as she got out of the building.

But that day, she paused outside the wide front window that smelled like fresh window cleaner. Inside, Angela was already standing near the cubbies, her tiny backpack dangling off her shoulders.

And standing behind her was an unfamiliar face, a large smile painted on… You.

Sophia didn’t know who you were, having only met one teacher from the daycare. But she watched as Angela tackled your legs, wrapping her arms around you with the kind of enthusiasm like you had just given her a toy she liked. You crouched down to her level, smiling wide as her daughter kissed your cheek in that sloppy, toddler way that left behind a faint sheen. The grin you gave her in return looked friendly, with your eyes twinkling.

Through the glass, Sophia just kept watching. Angela giggled against you, clutching the toy as you gave her a warm hug.

When Angela saw her through the window, Angela ran out and gave Sophia a smile with a tight squeeze around her mom’s shoulders. Not only did you seem to treat her daughter so well… but you were also gorgeous.

Sophia wasn’t even sure if she was staring at Angela’s interaction with you or just you.

On the drive home, Sophia asked her daughter, “Angel?” Her daughter perched up, her puppy eyes seen through the rear-view mirror. “Who is that teacher of yours that you were hugging?”

“That’s Miss L/N!”

“Is she nice to you?”

“Yeah! She helps me with my drawings, gives me the good snacks, and even gives me stickers,” she giggles while talking about you. Sophia is affected by the contagious fits of giggles, giving her child a cheesing grin.

“That’s good then… is Miss L/n your favorite?”

“The bestest favorite!”

“Bestest favorite?” Sophia chuckled at her daughter’s grammar. “Yeah!”

Since then, every time Sophia picks up her daughter, she has observed you every single moment. The way you gave every single child would high five, how her daughter always hugged you instead, the way you made Angela gleam with quick words.

It made Sophia wonder why you were so special to her daughter

An email came on a Thursday afternoon, while Sophia’s at her desk, halfway through a spreadsheet that’s been giving her more trouble than expected, when the notification pinged in the corner of her screen. She almost ignored it—her inbox usually cluttered with office updates and the occasional advertisement she swore she never subscribed to—but the subject line caught her eye.

Bring Your Parent to Work Day – Ms. Laforteza & Angela

At first, she skimmed it without thinking, since the daycare always put together little events. She appreciated the effort, but rarely found herself having the time to go to any of them. Between her actual job, synchronous part of the job, and the time she tries to reserve for Angela, Sophia didn’t have the kind of energy left to do anything else honestly.

The thought of standing in front of a classroom of toddlers, explaining what she did, didn’t exactly spark excitement.

She leaned back in her chair, and the sound of Angela humming in the living room could be heard through the open office door. Her daughter was sprawled on the floor with crayons and a coloring book, humming to herself as she filled in the outlines of a mermaid with streaks of pink and orange mixing in.

Sophia exhaled slowly and returned her focus to her work. Denying any idea of going to Angel’s daycare… well, she tried to at least. Because the following week, Angela comes bursting into her home office with wide eyes, Sophia realized she wasn’t getting out of it so easily with the look her daughter gave her.

“Mommy!” she said, dragging out the word in that singsong, climbing into Sophia’s lap before Sophia could stop her, tiny legs kicking against the chair.

“What’s up, Angel?” Sophia asked, brushing her daughter’s hair out of her face.

“Ms. L/n said next week is ‘Bring Your Parent to Work Day,’” Angela explained breathlessly,not knowing her mom knew all about it. “And—and everyone’s gonna have their moms or dads there. But if you don’t come, then I’ll be the only one without my mom!”

Sophia blinked, caught off guard by the sudden panic in her daughter’s tone. “Angel, it’s okay if we don’t go—”

“No! No, Mommy, please.” Angela’s little hands grabbed fistfuls of Sophia’s shirt, her big brown eyes shimmering with earnestness.

“I want you to come. Please? Everyone’s gonna show what their parents do, and I wanna show you all my friends.” The words caught Sophia off guard. Just staring at her daughter—the messy ponytail, the marker smudge on her cheek, the stubbornness written across her face.

Sophia thought of all the times she’d worried she wasn’t doing enough—that working long hours meant she was missing out on moments that mattered, that Angel would grow up resenting her for not being more present. And now here was her little girl, practically begging her to show up, to let her be the one with her mom in the classroom.

These little things would make sure she can be the mom Angel deserves.

Sophia sighed, “Alright, Angel. I’ll come.”

Angela squealed, throwing her arms around Sophia’s neck so tightly it nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

And just like that, Sophia found herself at the daycare building a week later. The lobby felt a bit chaotic with parents filing in behind their children, small hands tugging eagerly at bigger ones. Angela was dressed in her favorite dress with red sparkles, her wavy hair tied back with a butterfly clip. She held Sophia’s hand tightly, practically dragging her toward the classroom.

Sophia had dressed simply in some black trousers, a fitted cream blouse tucked neatly into the waistband, and her hair tied into a low ponytail. She felt slightly out of place among the other parents, who wore fancy suits, dresses, scrubs, and even lab coats.

Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was lively with posters lining the walls, artwork hung which was clearly made by children, and bins of toys sat neatly stacked in the corners. The children scattered toward their cubbies to put away their shoes, buzzing with excitement, while the parents lingered behind their kids.

That was when Sophia saw you standing at the front of the room, greeting the children first, giving that charming smile, and high fives. You looked professional, but approachable. With dark brown slacks that seemed freshly ironed, a forest green fitted vest over your collared shirt perfectly tailored, and your hair swept back into a claw clip.

“Alright, guys, let’s settle down!” you called, your voice carrying just enough authority to catch the children’s attention without sounding harsh. “We’re going to start in just a minute. Please take your seats.”

Beside you stood a younger woman—Fara Jones, the teaching assistant, whom the children called Ms. Jones. She helped guide the kids to the carpet; her gentle demeanor had all of them following with no issue.

When the room finally went quiet enough with a few murmurs amongst the kids, you turned to face the parents to introduce yourself.

“Good morning, everyone,” you began, “Thank you all for coming to our Bring Your Parent to Work Day. For those who may not know me, my name is Ms. L/n, and over there is Ms. Jones, whom many of your children know very well. Today you’ll just talk to the class about your jobs, keeping it child-friendly and understandable, of course. Then answer about three to four questions each since we have many parents to get through.”

Sophia found herself studying you more closely than she anticipated.

The way you spoke, each word clear and deliberate as you smiled often—at the parents, at the children who still fidgeted on the carpet, even at the awkward silence that followed someone’s misplaced question. You used your hands when you talked, emphasizing certain rules applied to everyone, even the parents.

Whenever someone said something that didn’t quite make sense, Sophia noticed the tiny habit you had of licking the corner of your lips before responding—seemingly holding back any sarcastic bone you had in your body.

You explained the schedule for the entire day—each parent would have a chance to introduce themselves, share a little about their work, and answer a few questions from the children. The day would be shorter than usual, and parents could take their children home afterward if they wanted.

Simple enough.

Sophia nodded along, but her attention was less on your words and more on the way you carried yourself. There was a composure about you that made the room feel lighter. You seemed at ease with the chaos of it all—the restless children, the anxious parents, the tight-knit schedule.

And though she tried not to dwell on the thought, Sophia couldn’t help but notice how put-together you looked.

Sophia’s gaze flicked down for a moment, catching herself, and she shifted in her seat. She wasn’t here to get distracted by some hot woman. This was her daughter and that’s that.

Still, she found curiosity tugging at the corners of her mind, somewhat eating up in her head.

And when you looked up briefly, scanning the room of parents, Sophia felt a spark of warmth. This look in your eyes… You gave the impression of being such a kind soul, and Sophia feels it.

The introductions began with a man in a gray suit whose daughter sat in the front row. He cleared his throat nervously before explaining that he worked as a lawyer, but quickly shifted gears when you prompted him to describe it in simpler terms.

“So, um… I help people solve problems when they don’t agree about something really important,” he said, casting a quick glance at his daughter. “Kind of like when someone doesn’t share their toy, and we need to figure out what’s fair.”

The children nodded in unison, a few giggling at the toy reference. You offered him a small nod of encouragement before moving on.

Next came a woman in scrubs, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She introduced herself as a nurse, explaining that she helped take care of people when they were sick or hurt. She even pulled tiny packs of colorful bandages from her bag to show the kids, handing them out and giving a ‘child-friendly’ explanation on when they should be used properly, just to keep the kids interested in her presentation.

Sophia smiled faintly, watching as Angela leaned forward on her knees, eager to participate.

Parent after parent followed—teachers, mechanics, office workers—each giving their own version of a kid-friendly explanation. Some used props, others relied on metaphors. The children responded with enthusiasm, clapping, gasping, or asking questions that sometimes made the adults laugh nervously.

It was then Sophia’s turn.

She rose from her seat slowly, smoothing her blouse as she stepped forward. Angela’s face lit up instantly, her small hands clapping together as she bounced in place.

“Hi, everyone,” Sophia began, her voice steady though her palms felt warm. “My name is Sophia, and I’m Angela’s mom.”

Angela grinned proudly, turning to her classmates as if to say, ‘See? That’s my mom.’

“I work as a data analyst,” Sophia continued, glancing briefly at you before focusing on the children. “That means I work with numbers—lots and lots of numbers—to help people understand things better.”

A few kids tilted their heads in confusion.

Sophia smiled lightly, adjusting her approach. “Think of it this way: if you had a big box of crayons with every color in the world, and they were all mixed up, my job would be to help sort them. I’d figure out which ones go together, which ones people use the most, and maybe even which colors we need more of. That way, everyone who wants to use the crayons knows exactly what they have.”

The children whispered among themselves, some nodding, others whispering about their favorite colors.

Angela’s hand shot up eagerly.

“Yes, Angel?” Sophia asked, her chest tightening slightly at the sight of her daughter’s proud little face.

“My mommy is really smart,” Angela announced to the room, her voice full of conviction. “She makes numbers make sense for everybody.”

The other kids giggled, but not in a way that made fun of her, it was like shared joy. Sophia felt her cheeks warm, her heart beating quickly at the sudden compliment of her daughter. She gave a small nod of thanks toward Angela before continuing.

“Sometimes I work in an office, and sometimes I get to work from home,” Sophia explained. “That way, I can spend more time with Angela while still doing my job.”

There were a few more questions—one child asking if she got to use a calculator all day, another wanting to know if she ever counted ‘a bajillion dollars.’ Sophia answered patiently, simplifying it when she could. Eventually, you stepped in with a gentle smile, signaling it was time to move on.

“Thank you, Ms. Laforteza,” you said warmly. “Those were wonderful explanations.”

Sophia caught the way your gaze stuck on her as she walked to the back of the room beside other parents before you turned back to the group. She shifted subtly in her seat when she returned to the back, unsure why the small detail stood out in her mind.

The rest of the morning then passed by quickly. More parents shared, the children’s energy spilled over despite your and Ms. Jones’s efforts to keep them seated, probably due to how long they had been seated. Eventually, snacks were handed out—juice boxes and crackers—while the parents mingled quietly near the back of the room.

Sophia stayed close to Angela, who chattered happily with her friends between bites. But her eyes wandered, drawn repeatedly toward you as you moved easily around the room. Checking on the kids and answering questions from parents, you were so used to doing it, moving around, and it looked like it didn’t even make you tired.

There was nothing extraordinary about what you did, and yet Sophia found herself watching with fascination. Something about the way you moved, the ease of your smile, the warmth in your voice attracted her.

And though she told herself to focus on Angela, Sophia couldn’t help the lingering thought that echoed quietly in the back of her mind.

She wanted to know more about you.

It was close to ten at night when the doorbell rang later that night. The two had gotten home earlier that day, after a lot of mingling with other students and their parents. Sophia wasn’t expecting anyone—just finishing folding the last of Angela’s clean clothes and was ready to head to bed.

Angela was already tucked away in her room with her stuffed bunny pressed under her chin.

When Sophia opened the door, her heart sank.

“Eli?” she said flatly.

He stood on the front porch, eyes red and unfocused, leaning a little too much on the doorframe. His shirt was rumpled, spotted with something that looked like dried liquor, and his hair stuck to his forehead as if he had been sweating. The stench hit her first—cigarettes, alcohol, something she wasn’t even sure of.

But it’s likely drugs.

“Hey, Soph,” he slurred, voice heavy with false warmth. “Can I… stay here tonight?”

Her grip on the door tightened. “It’s late, Eli. What are you even doing here?”

He tried to grin, though it landed closer to a grimace. “Just needed a place. Things… got outta hand.”

Sophia stepped into the doorway, keeping her body between him and the inside of her home. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, eyes darting past her shoulder, trying to peek inside. “Party. Don’t worry about it. Just—come on, Soph. It’s me. I don’t have anywhere else right now.”

The old Sophia might’ve caved—she was a very giving person two years ago. But now she had a daughter asleep just a few feet away, and she could feel every maternal instinct in her to push him away.

“You can’t just show up like this. Angela can’t see you like this, Eli.”

Using their daughter seemed to spark something in him. His expression flickered, shifting from desperation to annoyance. “So what, you’re just gonna shut the door in my face? After everything? I’m still her dad.”

“Yes,” Sophia said evenly, trying to keep her voice low. “But being her dad doesn’t mean you get to walk in here drunk and high whenever you feel like it.”

His jaw clenched. “You think you’re perfect, don’t you? Raising her all on your own, acting like I don’t matter. Like I’m not part of this.”

Her patience cracked. “I gave you a chance, Eli! You said you would help, but here we are! You only come around when it’s convenient for you. She deserves better than that—I deserve better than that.”

Sophia raged, sweeping her baby hairs back as she heard shuffling behind her. Turning around, she saw movement from the sight, at the corner of the beginning of the hallway.

Angela, standing at the beginning of the hall with her head peaking from the corner, bunny clutched against her chest. Her small face was blotchy, eyes glistening with tears she was trying so hard to hold back.

Sophia’s throat went dry, knowing her daughter had never seen this—never seen Eli like this. Sophia had always made sure of it, painting him as the fun, silly dad who loved her dearly, even if he wasn’t around much.

Because even without his presence, she could tell there was some care for their child.

She had worked tirelessly to protect Angela from the truth, thinking she could shoulder that burden alone.

But now the truth was standing at their front door, reeking of alcohol and shouting. And Angela was old enough to understand.

Sophia’s voice faltered, then softened. “Go back to bed, Angel,” she said gently, forcing her tone into something soothing. “Mommy’s got it.”

But Angela’s lip trembled, and the tears spilled over anyway. She buried her face into her bunny, trying to muffle the sound.

Sophia’s chest ache, turning back to Eli, anger surging again but now sharpened into something colder, more decisive. “Leave. Right now.”

He opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but she cut him off. “You’re scaring her. Go away.”

For a moment, he just stood there, swaying slightly, eyes darting between Sophia and the little girl behind her. Then, with a huff, he muttered something under his breath and stumbled back into the hallway. Sophia slammed the door shut before he could say another word.

Sophia leaned her forehead against the door, letting out a shaky breath, before turning to her daughter. Angela was still standing there, shoulders trembling, little fingers gripping her bunny so tightly the seams stretched a bit.

“Oh, Angel,” Sophia whispered, kneeling down to her level.

Angela rushes into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. Sophia wrapped her close, rocking her gently, shushing her even as her own eyes burned.

“I’m sorry you saw that,” Sophia murmured into her hair. “I didn’t want you to. He… he has problems, Angel. Problems that have nothing to do with you.”

Angela sniffled, voice muffled against Sophia’s shirt. “W-Why… why was he like that?”

Sophia kissed the crown of her head. “Because he’s not making good choices right now. But listen to me—he does love you. And I love you enough for both of us, okay? Always.”

Angela clung tighter, as if testing those words, making sure they would hold. Sophia let her, rocking her until the sobs softened into hiccups.

They spent the rest of the night curled up together in Sophia’s bed, Angela tucked against her side, bunny wedged safely between them. Sophia kept a hand on her back, rubbing circles until she finally drifted to sleep.

And even as the large home turned quiet again, Sophia lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her mind replayed the evening over and over, the look on Angela’s face hurting her heart as the image played over and over again.

She had always wanted to shield her daughter from the ugliest parts of Eli. But maybe the truth was something she couldn’t protect her from forever.

All she could do now was make sure Angela always felt safe, always felt loved, and never had to question who she could rely on.

The next couple of days carried on with Sophia waking early to prep her daughter’s food, dropping Angela off, juggling deadlines at the office, and then coming home exhausted. Things were becoming too chaotic after that night, so there were times when the Filipina couldn’t eat dinner, just crashing into bed after putting Angela to sleep.

It was three days after the fight with Angela’s father, and Sophia was in the office building this time, with a few meetings and a bunch of numbers and paperwork being worked on. Her monitor glowed with emails when her phone buzzed against the desk, the daycare name flashing across the screen.

“Hello?” she answered, tucking the receiver against her ear, as her shoulder shrugged up to hold up the phone.

“Good evening, Sophia. It’s me, Y/n,” you said, your voice calm. “Nothing urgent, don’t worry. I just… I’d like to talk to you about Angela, if you have time.”

Her chest tightened. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. It’s not an emergency. I’d just rather explain in person.”

Sophia let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Alright. I’m picking her up tomorrow, so we can talk then.”

“That works. Thanks,” you said softly.

The line clicked dead, leaving Sophia staring at her monitor with her pulse quickening, as she had never gotten a call like that before. Usually, Angela’s teachers called if she’d caught a cold, forgotten her lunch, or needed new crayons. But this—this tone, this vague “let’s talk”—gnawed at her.

The next afternoon, Sophia arrived at the center, Angela’s jacket folded over her arm. You greeted her at the door with a small, tired smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Hey,” you said. “Come in, please.”

Sophia stepped inside, the warmth of the building replacing the chill of the wind clinging to her coat. Angela was in the playroom, building a lopsided tower with another child. Fara glanced up from the corner, giving Sophia a smile before quietly leading her own kid into the nearby room.

You motioned toward your office, and Sophia followed, closing the door gently behind her.

She noticed the way you hesitated before sitting, your fingers tapping against the armrest for a moment before you spoke.

“I’ve been a little concerned about Angela,” you began carefully. “It’s nothing alarming, but there have been some changes to her.”

Sophia leaned forward, her throat tightening. “What kind of changes?”

You shifted in your chair. “She barely eats lunch. Sometimes she picks at it, but most of the time she pushes it around until we clear the plates. She’s also been lashing out a bit during playtime. Not every day, but it’s definitely enough to notice. And there’ve been comments—things she says to other kids that come off a little… rude.”

Sophia blinked, caught between worry and confusion. “Since when?”

“Since Monday,” you said gently. “That’s when it started.”

Her stomach dropped, a sigh escaping her lips. She already knew the answer. Monday was the morning after Eli had shown up.

Sophia exhaled slowly, pressing her hand against her temple. “That makes sense,” she murmured. “Her father… he came by Sunday night. It wasn’t good—she saw more than she should have.”

Your expression softened. “That would make sense, then. I’m sorry you’re both dealing with that.”

Sophia nodded, her jaw tight. “She’s never had to see him like that. But she figured it out, maybe even more than I think.”

“Kids do,” you agreed quietly. “And this reaction—I’d say it’s pretty normal after what she heard. She’s just trying to process it all.”

Sophia looked up at you, her eyes heavy. “What do you suggest?”

You thought for a moment before answering. “Sometimes, when kids feel unsettled, it helps to have something familiar with them. A toy, or an item from home. Something that gives comfort when they’re unsure.”

Sophia tilted her head, considering. “She does have one thing. A stuffed bunny—she calls it Ms. Hopper. She’s had it since she turned one. It’s almost as big as she is.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “That sounds perfect. If she has Ms. Hopper with her, maybe it’ll give her a sense of security when she’s here. At least until she feels steadier.”

Sophia felt the tightness in her chest ease just a little. “Thank you. I appreciate you allowing that.”

“Of course,” you said. “Whatever helps.”

For a moment, the office fell quiet, the muffled sound of children’s laughter carrying in from the other room. Then Sophia stood, her chair scraping lightly against the floor.

Before she could think twice, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around you in a grateful hug. You hesitated only a second before returning it, though she noticed—strangely—that your legs stayed a fraction further back than your upper body, as if you kept a sliver of distance even within the closeness.

Sophia felt it but didn’t comment, releasing you after a breath. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice lower, steadier. “For noticing and caring about her.”

You gave her a small smile. “It’s my job,” you replied. But the look in your eyes, tired and sincere, said more than that.

When Sophia went to collect Angela a few minutes later, the little girl ran into her mother’s arms, clinging tightly. Sophia held her close, already deciding that Ms. Hopper would be washed, packed, and ready for tomorrow morning.

Thankfully, it all worked out, and since then, Angela has been happy in school again. Everything went back to normal until the kids' summer break.

The daycare had pretty much emptied out, the building left with some furniture, files, and office supplies, but the rest had been cleaned out. Angela adjusted well—her appetite had gone back to normal, her moods brighter. Sophia noticed the difference most at bedtime.

Angela had crawled into her lap one evening and whispered that she didn’t like the way her dad looked at her, and Sophia finally pieced everything together. The talk helped, Sophia being honest with her. Her dad didn’t have to be a villain in her eyes, but he isn’t a great man in the Filipina’s life. Angela wasn’t all smiles overnight, but being honest let the anger Angela felt, die down.

Now it was Thursday afternoon, and just as Sophia opened the door, Angela walked in sulking. Her voice was now whiny as she sat cross-legged on the living room rug, arms crossed, face scrunched.

“I forgot, Ms. Hopper,” she mumbled, burying her head into her knees, curling up like a ball.

Sophia barely looked up from her glass of water. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. You’ve got plenty of other toys here.”

“But it’s not the same,” Angela dragged out the words, lower lip quivering.

“You’ll be fine without her for a little while,” Sophia said, more firmly this time, and then turned her attention back to folding laundry that she paused to pick up the child. It would be good for Angela not to cling so tightly, just to get used to the toy not being around because it may become an issue in the future.

But the answer she gave was one the girl didn’t want to hear. Angela’s face crumpled, and before Sophia could add anything to fix the mistake, the tears spilled fast and loud. A sob rippled from her daughter’s tiny body.

Sophia dropped the shirt in her hands, rushing to kneel by her daughter. “Angela, hey—hey, baby, it’s okay—”

Instead of feeling any comfort from her mom, Angela ran down the hallway to her room, and slammed the door, evidently locking it as well. Sophia tried calling the daycare—just in case—but the line clicked to voicemail before the first ring even finished.

By the time dinner hour rolled in, Sophia felt helpless. The house was silent except for the faint hiccupping sobs drifting from Angela’s bedroom. She cooked, more out of habit than hunger, stirring vegetables into a pan on autopilot. They still needed to eat, even if Angela didn’t want to.

Suddenly, mid-stir, the doorbell rang through the entire house. Sophia wiped her hands on a dish towel and opened the door, half-expecting a neighbor or something along those lines.

Instead, she froze in place, hair flowing about from the wind the rushed in.

You stood there, not in your neat work attire but in something casual, sporting a fitted black t-shirt that sat against you just right, black sweatpants, sneakers clean but well-worn. Your hair was a little messier than the usual tidy bun, like you’d been in a hurry. Sophia thought you looked really good to the point where her knees buckled a bit.

But what really caught her eye was what you carried. Ms. Hopper, dangling gently in your arms, the oversized bunny nearly as tall as Angela herself.

“I figured someone might be missing this,” you said with a faint smile.

Sophia blinked, then broke into a breathy laugh of relief. “You’re a lifesaver. Seriously—thank you.” She stepped aside, gesturing you in without hesitation. “Come in. Please.”

The smell of dinner drifted through the entrance hallway as she led you inside. Sophia’s house was large, the kind of suburban spaciousness that echoed when too quiet. Hardwood floors polished smooth, wide hallways lined with framed pictures of Angela.

Sophia called down the hall, voice brightening. “Angela! Come here, honey. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

It took a moment, but then little footsteps padded out from her bedroom. Angela appeared, cheeks blotchy, eyes swollen and rimmed red. Her pajamas were a matching lilac set, wrinkled from her rolling in bed all day. She rubbed at her nose, looking half-tired, half-miserable—until she saw what you held.

Her eyes widened.

“Ms. Hopper!” she squealed, voice cracking with joy. She sprinted forward, nearly tripping over her own feet, and threw her arms around both you and the stuffed bunny. “Thank you! Thank you, thank yo,u thank you!”

You crouched down to meet her hug, patting her back gently. “I thought she’d want to spend summer break with you.”

Angela pulled away only to look up at you with watery, earnest eyes. “Are you gonna stay for dinner?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s really—”

But Sophia’s voice cut in. “It’s the least I can do,” she said, her tone firm enough to settle it. She was already walking back toward the kitchen. “Come sit. I’ll get you a plate.”

You hesitated, but the smell of food and the expectant way Angela tugged at your hand made it too hard to say no.

At the dining table, you sat across from Sophia and Angela. The table was large, polished marble, clearly made for more guests than just two of them. Sophia set down a plate for you—a sour soup with rice—and poured a glass of water to go with it.

She had explained it was a dish called Sinigang from her culture, both her and Angela favoring it.

As you began eating, Angela clutched Ms. Hopper to her side, chattering happily in between bites. The child’s eyes would twinkle as she looked at you, her pitch always bubbling with excitement.

Sophia watched the scene and after a while, she asked casually, “So—how did you even find our place?”

You set your fork down lightly. “When I saw the toy left behind, I checked Angela’s emergency card at the daycare. It had the address listed. I figured it was important enough to make the trip.”

Sophia tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Smart thinking.”

Dinner went on quietly until Angela finished eating and scampered off with Ms. Hopper, giggling to herself as she disappeared down the hallway. The sound of her door clicking shut followed.

Sophia leaned back in her chair, then stood, crossing to the counter where a dark bottle of wine sat. She picked it up, uncorking it with ease. “I usually save this for the weekend, but I think I’ll need it after the day I’ve had,” she said, almost offhandedly. She reached for two glasses, then looked over at you. “Want some?”

You hesitated, your hands folded neatly on the table. “I probably shouldn’t—”

“Oh, come on.” Sophia’s voice softened, almost coaxing. “It’s summer break for you, too, isn’t it? No little ones to keep track of for the next couple of months. Just one glass.”

Her smile was enough to pursuade you, causing you to nod slowly. “Alright. Just one.”

She pours the wine, glinting deep red under the dining room light, then brought the glass to you before taking her own seat again.

The two of you lingered at the table after dinner, wine glasses only half-full now, the bottle resting between you. Sophia leaned on her arm, chin resting against her palm as she studied you while you spoke. She didn’t try to hide it this time—the way her eyes followed the curve of your mouth, or how she tilted her head every time you shifted in your chair.

You talked about small things first, trying to ease up the conversation with Angela’s little habits at the center, the way she liked to hum to herself when she colored, or how she insisted that Ms. Hopper always had a seat at the snack table. Sophia smiled so warmly at that, the kind of smile that softened her entire face.

“She really does love that bunny,” she said, shaking her head with a quiet laugh. “I swear, if I could get away with buckling it into the car seat next to her, she’d ask me to.”

“Maybe you should,” you teased, swirling the wine in your glass. “Would probably make her feel safer. Sometimes that’s all kids need.”

Sophia’s eyes flickered up to you, lingering just a little too long. “You always talk like that,” she murmured, half to herself. “Like you’ve already lived three lives and you’ve seen it all.”

You chuckled, shrugging. “I’ve always had a habit of speaking proper, sometimes a bit of a know it all. My dad raised me to be that way honestly—also wanted to be a college professor and still actively pursing that so that’s also another reason why.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a second, you thought she might say something back, but instead, she reached for her glass again. Her voice was softer now. “You’re comforting, y’ know that?”

Before you could answer, the doorbell cut you off. Sophia looks visibly startled, then pushed back her chair. “That’s odd—excuse me for a second.” She moved quickly, smoothing her pajama pants as she moved through the hallway.

You stayed put at first, only half-listening, until Sophia’s sharp voice snapped through the closed door.

“—No, you can’t come inside again! We’ve talked about this!”

A man’s muffled voice slurred something in reply, too garbled to catch, followed by the sound of a heavy thud against the doorframe. That was enough to pull you to your feet and rush over to the front of the house.

By the time you rounded the corner, Sophia was pressed against the door, trying to hold it closed as a man pushed from the other side. His words were incoherent, his movements jerky, and even being quite far away, you could smell how much the man reeked of something you were unfamiliar with.

“Get out of here,” Sophia hissed, her voice trembling with anger.

The man shoved harder, forcing his way half inside, and that’s when you stepped forward. You didn’t even think about any of it, just going for it—moving Sophia out of the way smoothly, your hand gripping his shoulder, pushing him back with a force that surprised even you. He stumbled, wild-eyed and unsteady, clearly under the influence of more than just alcohol.

“Who the hell—” he slurred, lunging toward you with a clumsy swing. It barely connected, more of a graze against your chin, and you responded with a firm shove to his chest once more. He went sprawling onto the porch, arms flailing.

You stood in the doorway, blocking him from Sophia. “Leave. Now. Before I call the cops and make sure you stay there for a long time.”

The man glared up at you, his words devolving into curses that no one could make out. He wobbled, unbalanced, then staggered off the porch into the darkness, muttering under his breath.

You shut the door firmly, locking it before turning back. Sophia’s face was pale, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed them against her chest.

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice gentler now.

She nodded quickly, though her breath still shook. “Y-Yeah. I just… he’s never been that bad before.” Her eyes flicked up to yours. “Thank you, f-for stepping in.”

“It’s nothing,” you said simply, though the adrenaline in your chest told you it wasn’t nothing at all. “But if he tries again, don’t hesitate. Call the police, every time. People like that… they get too many chances.”

Sophia swallowed hard, nodding again.

Angela’s small voice carried faintly from down the hall. “Mommy?”

Sophia exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment before moving toward her daughter’s room. You stayed in the living room, giving her space, listening as her voice softened behind the cracked door.

“It’s okay, baby. Just a noise, nothing to worry about. Mommy’s here.”

There was a pause, followed by the rustle of blankets. Sophia’s voice dipped even lower, a comforting hum that eventually melted into silence. You pictured her tucking Angela in, brushing the little girl’s hair back from her face, whispering reassurance until sleep took over.

When she returned, her steps were quieter, almost hesitant. You had sunk into the couch by then, legs stretched, the television flickering in the background, though you hadn’t paid attention to a single thing.

Sophia paused in the doorway, watching you for a moment before moving closer. She sat beside you, close enough for her perfume to mix with the faint scent of wine between you. Her hand brushed against your leg.

You looked down, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were darker now, heavy-lidded, pupils wide. She traced the line of your jaw with perfectly manicured fingers, tilting your chin toward her.

“Do you ever stop being so calm?” she whispered, almost frustrated at her own confusion.

You didn’t answer, well, you couldn’t with how she looked at you. Her large animated eyes has you feeling butterflies in your stomach as she bites her bottom lip.

Her lips crashed into yours before you could even think, soft at first but quickly coaxing you open, pulling you into her. The kiss grew hotter, deeper—her mouth moving with a hunger that stole your breath. She tasted faintly of the wine, her tongue teasing yours until you melted back against the couch.

The TV’s glow painted against the left side of her face, but you almost didn’t care—her hand brushed along your jaw, tilting your face as the upper half of her body is flushed on yours, while her other pressed against your thigh, fingers splaying. Heat coiled low in your stomach as you parted your legs, the space between you vanishing.

She trailed her hand higher, brushing against the hard line beneath your soft pants—the discovery stealing her breath.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and then laughed softly, nervous but hungry. “You didn’t tell me you had this…”

Your hand closed around her wrist before she could move further, a firm but unhurried grip. “Careful, Sophia,” you said, voice low, carrying that weight of authority that seemed to make her want you even more.

Her lashes fluttered, a faint whimper catching in her throat. She didn’t pull away, if anything leaning closer.

You cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, deepening the kiss. She melted, lips parted, letting you taste her, as your tongues rummage around. She sighed into it, a desperate little sound, and the tension that had been simmering since dinner cracked wide open.

Her hand slid up your chest, nails grazing lightly as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. Between kisses, she whispered against your mouth, breathless.

“You’re… so good at this.” Your hand trailed down her side, palm pressing firmly at her hip before tugging her closer until she straddled your lap. She gasped at the shift, pajama pants riding up, the thin cami straining against her chest as she feels your clothed cock pressing in between her legs.

“You listen well,” you murmured, lips ghosting her ear as your grip tightened on her waist. “If your anything like that, I’ll like you even more.”

Her whole body shivered at the praise. “I’ll listen—” she promised quickly, the words tumbling out between needy kisses down your jaw. “Just… don’t stop.”

Your mouth claimed hers again, rougher this time, making her whine softly. You guided her hips down against your lap, making her feel the full length of what had her so distracted earlier. She gasped into your mouth, clutching at your shirt.

“You’re—so big,” she breathed, the words trembling out, her forehead pressed against yours. Her lips brushed yours with every shaky sound. “Fuck, I… I need it. Need you.”

Your hand slid beneath the thin fabric of her cami, palm warm against the swell of her breast. Her skin was hot, soft, and she arched instinctively into your touch, a gasp breaking free before. Your fingers fiddling her hard nipples in between, Sophia moaning into you at the sensation. You traced the curve slowly, deliberately, until her body shivered under your hand. When you caught the delicate strap and tugged it off her shoulder, watching it slip down her arm in a lazy fall, she didn’t move to stop you—her chest only rose higher, aching for more.

“Say it again,” you murmured against her throat, lips brushing the line of her neck. Your voice was low. She quivered beneath you, her pulse racing against your lips.

“I need you,” she whimpered, obedient and aching, her thighs tightening around you. “Please.”

The words slipped from her so naturally that it drew a smile from you. You let your other hand drift up, cupping her jaw, forcing her to meet your eyes.

“Good girl,” you said, and the sound she made in response was pure desperation.

Her hand wandered slowly down the ridges of your chest, nails grazing just enough to leave your skin tingling, until her fingers wrapped around your hardened length again. A soft, breathy moan escaped her lips at the weight of you in her palm, her head tipping back as your mouth dragged along the line of her jaw.

“I want to see how big this is—” she whispered, the words breaking on a gasp as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

You leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear in a teasing peck, your breath hot against her skin. “That’s what you wanted to find out, huh?” you murmured, a mix of mockery and promise.

She nodded, unable to lie, still rubbing you as if she couldn’t stop. Her cheeks were pink, pupils wide, chest rising faster beneath the thin cami. You slid your hand over hers, slowing her motions, taking control of even this.

“Take these off,” you said, nodding to her pajama pants. Your tone left no room for argument, and she obeyed, shimmying them down her legs in one smooth motion until they pooled on the rug. She sat back down beside you in only her cami and a matching white thong that clung to her frame.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but you spread them apart with your hand, thumb stroking over the soft inside of her leg.

“Good girl,” you murmured, watching the compliment ripple over her body. She bit her lip, squirming, unable to hide how much she liked hearing you say that.

Your mouth trailed down the curve of her neck, teeth grazing lightly until her whine broke the silence. “Please…” she whispered, her grip tightening around your wrist. She didn’t finish the plea before you hooked her thong aside, fingers slipping over the heat that pulsed between her thighs.

She was drenched, aching for you.

“Already this wet for me?” you murmured, letting one finger glide lazily through her folds, dragging the motion out until her whole body shivered.

Her head fell back, lashes fluttering, voice spilling out ragged and raw. “Y-you’re just—fuck—you’re unreal. The way you talk… like you already own me. Like—like I should just obey.”

“You should.” Your voice dropped, low and deliberate, as you sank a finger into her. The slow stretch had her gasping, lips parting, hips canting forward for more. “And you will.”

Her spine arched against the couch cushions as you pumped, slowly but merciless, curling your finger just enough to brush that hidden spot inside her. She jerked, toes curling, thighs trembling around your wrist as if they couldn’t decide whether to fight or pull you deeper. Already she looked wrecked, unraveling in your hands from the simplest touch, every breathy sound proof of how easily you could undo her.

“Tell me what you want,” you demanded, speeding up only when her hips started chasing you.

“I—I want you. All of you,” she gasped, voice breathy, pitched higher. Her hand gripped your shirt, nails dragging lightly. “Please, I can take it. I need you inside me.”

You pulled your hand back, leaving her empty just long enough for her to whimper at the loss. Then you stood, tugging your sweats and briefs down in one motion, letting her see the size of what she’d been begging for. Her lips parted again, this time in awe, fingers curling against the couch like she needed to steady herself.

“Oh my God…”

“Too much for you?” you asked, deliberately stroking yourself once, slow, just to watch her reaction.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head, eyes glued to you. Her voice sounding shocked as she shuffled down. “I want it.”

You watch as she falls to her knees, licking the tip of your cock, and she hears a low grumble from you. Her warm hands wrapped around your shaft, using her tongue to lick a long strip from the base of your cock.

“Fucking hell, Sophia,” your mumble, feeling her wet mouth swallowing your length. Her tongue swirls around, sucking as her cheeks sink in. The hollowing them as she tried taking all of it, no matter how large.

Sophia’s eyes tear up as she stares up at you, bobbling her head back and forth and the sight could make you cum instantly. She looked so sexy to you, it had you grabbing the back of her head, fucking her mouth without any warning.

Her hands plant on your hips, helping her breath in when needed as your length glistened with the coat of her saliva. You didn’t want to finish yet, letting her head go as her hand jerks you cock, the wetness helping her pace as she gave the head kitten licks and peck.

She stares as it leaks with precum and you groan, pulling her up to you. The kiss you give her is rough with her swollen lips, then sitting down.

You drew her onto your lap, guiding her to straddle you, her knees sinking into the cushions on either side. Her cami bunched up around her ribs, exposing the soft curve of her stomach, and your hands slid beneath the fabric—broad, palms gliding higher until you tugged it over her head. She lifted her arms without hesitation, surrendering it to you.

Now she sat before you in nothing but the thin strip of her thong, her chest bare, flushed skin rising and falling with every uneven breath. The sight alone made your pulse thrum, her body an offering aching for your touch.

You angled yourself against her, one hand anchored at her hip, the other guiding your cock to her wet cunt. The first press of your cock against her folds stole a gasp from her lips, her fingers tightening around your shoulders as you eased into her, filling her inch by inch until she trembled against you.

“Fuuuck…” she moaned, the sound caught between her teeth as her forehead dropped to yours, voice breaking despite her effort to keep it down. “You’re—fuck—you’re stretching me so good…”

Her whole body shook as you stuffed her, walls fluttering around you. She clung desperately to your shoulders, nails raking across your skin as muffled whines tumbled out with your name, every shaky compliment slipping free no matter how hard she tried to bite them back.

“Your… perfect,” she whispered against your jaw, breath ragged, lips brushing your skin. “So big… so deep… you’re everything.”

Your grip tightened on her ass, pulling her down harder onto you, tearing a strangled cry from her throat that she quickly smothered against your neck. “Ride me,” you ordered, voice a low rasp that left no room for disobedience.

She started messily, hips grinding, her rhythm broken as she tried to take you deeper each time. But your hands steadied her waist, guiding her up and down, showing her the pace until she got used to it, soft whimpers slipping past her lips in shaky gasps. Every roll of her hips grew needier, until she bit her lip raw trying to stay quiet.

“You’re mine tonight,” you growled, snapping your hips up into her, making her choke on a muffled scream.

Her nails dug harder, body pressing close as she nodded frantically. “Y-yes… yours,” she whimpered into your ear, breath hot, words breaking apart with every thrust. “Please—don’t stop—please—”

Her obedience, her bitten-back cries, her trembling body clinging to you—it all drove you harder, pounding into her until the room echoed with the slap of skin on skin and her stifled, desperate noises.

You thrust upward again, your hips meeting hers, and felt Sophia clamp down around you. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna cum—”

She bit hard into her bottom lip, muffling the cry that threatened to spill out as her body shook against yours. Her hips snapped down, desperate to take you deeper, and you held her there, cock buried in her clutching walls as she trembled through the waves. Every pulse of her release milked you, her muffled whimpers breaking into your shoulder until the tremors slowly eased.

You wanted more—you weren’t finished. With a steady breath, you lifted her off your lap and eased her down beside you, shifting to press in from behind. But just as you aligned yourself, Sophia’s hand pressed firmly against your abdomen, halting you. Her eyes flicked back over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, lips still red from biting down—quiet, but telling you to wait.

“We can’t… not here,” she whispered, though the way she shifted against you made the words feel empty.

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. Angela was just down the hall, sleeping peacefully after Sophia tucked her in earlier. But Sophia wasn’t pulling away either.

“There’s a guest room upstairs,” she whispered, almost like she was confessing it to herself. Before you could respond, her fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you along as she scooped up the bundle of clothes. Her bare feet skimmed across the floorboards, the faint creak swallowed by the rush of her steps toward the staircase.

The house was silent, and you trailed her, your gaze fixed. She clutched her thin white cami, champagne colored pajama pants and your sweatpants tight against her chest, moving quickly, like she might get caught if you guys went any slower.

By the time you slipped into the guest room, Sophia had already shut the door, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should in the stillness. She lingered there, back pressed to the wood, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.

All traces of restraint slipped away, her hands flattening against your chest before fisting in your shirt, yanking you closer until your bodies crashed together. The kiss turned messy, desperate, her lips parting around a broken whimper as she clung tighter. Your hand trailed down the curve of her side, heat rising beneath your palm until you gripped her hip, your fingers digging in possessively. She gasped against your mouth, the sound sharp and needy, spurring you to hold her there, pressed flush against you with no space left between.

You eased her backward, step by step, until the backs of her knees caught the edge of the guest bed. A gentle push and she sank onto it, gazing up at you with wide, dazed eyes, lips parted, her breathing ragged—like she was waiting for permission she didn’t need to ask for.

“You’re… too good at this,” she whispered with a shaky laugh, though the way her thighs pressed together gave her away, betraying the ache between them. “Like you already know everything about me.”

Your smirk was answer enough as you leaned down, kissing her hard, your weight pressing her into the mattress. She melted instantly, hands cupping your face, fingers sliding into your hair, pulling you deeper with kisses that tasted both desperate and sweet.

When your palm slipped lower, past the hem of her cami to skim the soft line of her waist, she arched into your touch. A sharp, needy sound burst from her lips before she bit down to stifle it.

Her breath caught. “Please—fuck me,” she begged, the words breaking apart, raw and unguarded.

At that, you stripped off your black top, leaving only your sports bra, while Sophia shimmied out of her thong, tossing it aside. Vulnerable, spread out beneath you, she looked devastating—chest rising in uneven breaths, thighs parted, offering herself to you.

You pressed forward, teasing her first, dragging the thick head of your cock through her slick folds. Each slow glide had her thighs shaking, her body trembling with every second you kept her waiting.

Sophia’s fingers twisted tight in the sheets. “You’re—god—you’re teasing me—”

You pushed in before she could finish, stretching her inch by inch, swallowing her protests with a groan of your own. Her gasp tore the air, back arching as her nails raked across your shoulders.

“Fuck—” she cried, clutching at you, voice breaking, “—you feel so good, you’re so fucking thick…”

Her words lit a fire in you. You found a rhythm, deep and relentless, each thrust pulling louder sounds from her throat until she was moaning openly, her body yielding with every drive of your cock. She looked wrecked already—hair spilling wild across the pillow, lips parted around desperate praises that tumbled out in breathless stammers.

“You’re perfect—fuck—you’re perfect,” she gasped against your ear, high and whiny, “Eli never—oh my god—”

Your hands locked hard on her hips, dragging her down onto you as you pounded deeper, until her voice broke into incoherent cries. She shattered around you, walls clenching tight as her orgasm ripped through her, her moans filling the room without restraint. You didn’t let up until you unload outside, pumping your cum on her lower stomach, her name falling from your lips in a ragged groan as you pressed flush against her, collapsing briefly into the heat of her body.

Sophia barely had time to catch her breath before she dragged you down again, lips desperate, swollen from the last round. Her body was still trembling, but her hunger hadn’t dulled—it burned hotter.

“Again,” she rasped against your mouth, voice raw.

A smirk tugged at your lips as your thumb traced the sharp line of her jaw. “Didn’t get enough already?”

Her head shook weakly, eyes glazed and hungry, locked on yours. “I want more. I want all of you.”

You rolled her onto her stomach, guiding her onto her knees. Her back arched beautifully under your hands, the sight alone making your cock twitch with need. You pressed against her soaked folds, teasing just a second before sinking back inside. She let out a wrecked whimper, burying her face in the sheets.

This time you took your time—slow, heavy thrusts that drove deep, each one enough to make her gasp. You leaned forward, tangling your hand in her hair and pulling her head back just enough to drink in every broken sound.

“That’s it,” you murmured against her ear, low and rough, “take my cock, baby.”

Her answer came out as a sobbing moan, hips pushing back greedily to meet every stroke. Words tumbled out of her in a feverish rush.

“You’re so strong—fuck—so deep—I can’t stop, I can’t—god—”

Her cries broke as you slammed harder, until her body shook around you, clenching tight while her nails carved into the sheets. You didn’t stop until her orgasm dragged you under too, spilling hot and thick onto her lower back, grinding deep until there was nothing left.

Sophia collapsed forward, trembling, sweat-slick skin glowing in the dim light.

You snagged a towel from the guest bathroom without a second thought—already planning to wash it later—and carefully wiped her down, slow and deliberate. When you eased back onto the bed, your arm slipped firmly around her waist, guiding her closer until she was flush against you. She melted into the solid heat of your chest, her breathing steadying as you held her there, anchored and safe.

For the first time all night, the room was quiet—only your uneven breaths tangling together, her fingertips tracing weak, shaky patterns across your chest.

“Angela would definitely love having you around,” Sophia mumbled against your chest, her voice almost drowsy.

You glanced down at her with a raised brow. “Just her?” The mock-offense in your tone made her laugh, soft and unguarded.

“I would too,” she said quickly, looking up at you with that half-smile that always knocked the air out of your lungs. “I’d want you around as much as you can be.”

You pretended to mull it over, drawing out the silence just enough to make her huff. She swatted lightly at your chest, playful but impatient.

The slap only made you grin wider. A laugh slipped out as you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Wouldn’t mind being around one bit,” you murmured, and the way her eyes softened told you she knew you meant it.

The morning sunlight spilled lazily through the kitchen windows, painting over the countertops. You and Sophia moved around each other—her at the stove, you slicing bread and buttering it, the soft hum of the electric kettle filling the space.

“Morning…” Angela’s small voice carried from the hallway. She rubbed her eyes, pausing mid-step when she saw the two of you standing side by side in the kitchen.

Her surprise widened into a grin. “You stayed?”

The question lingered for a beat, and your mind flicked back to earlier—waking tangled in warm sheets, Sophia’s hand on your chest, both of you whispering about slowing down.

About giving Angela the time she needed to adjust before anything was set in stone.

The kettle clicked off, steam curling into the air. You poured the water into your mugs, letting the quiet stretch until you finally glanced at Angela, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” you said, voice gentle. “I’ll be around a lot more, Angel.”

The nickname lit her up instantly. She beamed, clapping her hands before breaking into a little dance right there in the kitchen. “Yes! I thought I wasn’t gonna see you anymore when school starts! This is so much better!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her joy, the sound spilling out of you without restraint. Beside you, Sophia leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, her lips warm and lingering just a moment longer than casual.

“I’m excited too,” she murmured, before turning back to the stove and sliding a plate of eggs onto the counter. She handed it off to Angela, nudging her toward the table.

“Alright, food’s ready. Go sit down before it gets cold.”

Angela dashed off with her plate, still humming happily to herself. You grabbed your plate and Sophia’s as the Filipina got the mugs of hot coffee, following close behind her.

Sophia worried a bit, not knowing how it would all turn out, but when all three of you sat down and Angela giggles as you tickled her, teasing about moving up a into preschool—it felt right.

512 notes · View notes