#<- (Has said this before without circling back)

[vanilleandclove]

on hold; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

when push comes to shove, sometimes there’s cracks in your relationship that can only be mended with time and patience.

warnings: pregnancy & pregnancy loss, heated arguments, emotional numbness, postpartum depression, overexertion via work, drug mention, parental disownment, jack being a widow is finally mentioned! word count: 3.2k notes: this was a pretty heavy chapter to write. pennsylvania is a middle-third state, meaning reproductive rights for women are protected but with limitations- i’m from california and it’s a top-third state, so i tried my best to represent that- there’s a reason abbot lowballed the measurements. miscarriages are a hard experience for any woman to go through especially one that could have severely damaged a woman’s health which has happened to women in the states. i urge you to stand for women's rights as there is an infringement on them worldwide. feliz dia de las madres :)

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Jack knew before you did, he knew your body, knew the time of the month when you’d have your period without fail. It was second nature to him. 

It was the middle of February when you found out you were pregnant, Jack liked to brag that he knew a week before just from your off-putting cravings and the fact that you wanted to stay in for Valentine’s Day. He still acted surprised the day you told him, the bloodwork, the pregnancy test Heather gave you, the three ClearBlues, all indicative of you being pregnant. That night he told you he already knew, but figured it would be offensive to ask you to take a pregnancy test out of the blue. 

By March, you were aching to tell someone other than your confined circle. Dana knew, Heather knew therefore, Robby knew, and Bridget knew. You resisted telling your parents, they were on your case when it came to your late twenties, believing it was your “prime”, Jack did not know how to phrase it to his mom, so you both just settled on waiting. You weren’t showing, but the middle of the night heartburns had you waking up almost choking and freaking the fuck out of Jack. 

You peed more often, craved salt with sweetness, your body was retaining more water than usual and it made your skin feel more elastic. You opted for night shift only as the morning sickness was consistent, bought a better pair of sneakers for comfort. You were a Doctor yet pregnancy on you was uncharted territory. 

The one day you chose day shift, the middle of March, you retrospectively wish you hadn't. It was a hot day in Pittsburgh, 99 degrees and only rising every few hours. 

You had two patients come in with “eye splitting”, “brain exploding” headaches, both frat boys. They were high off laced weed, luckily nothing too dangerous, they just needed hydration and observation. 

By 3 pm you had a surgical case, a 20 year old female in hemorrhagic shock from a pelvic fracture during her diving class, in need of an angioembolization. You swore you could almost curse Gloria for not hiring more interventional radiologists, therefore you had to perform it. An hour and a half goes by and you’re sending her to post-op and yourself to the maternity ward. 

The pain in your back was if someone pulled your arms back and kicked your spine in, you were feverish and sweaty all over, your heart was thumping out of your chest. 

“I just need an ultrasound Jenna” you pressed on as she kept on telling you that you were okay, that the last check up two weeks ago was fine, your fetus was healthy and growing. She saw the look on your face, one she’s seen one too many times. She scurrying you into an imaging room. 

“The gel’s going to be cold” she murmured, putting her glasses on as you laid down on the bed. The room went mute as she examined, her expression being grave and nervous. “Y/n, we need to admit you, now” she said, putting the transducer away and removing her gloves immediately. 

“Why?” you used your elbows to anchor yourself up. You saw the millions of thoughts race through her head as she got new gloves and a spare I.V. drip, immediately whipping out her phone to text, “I miscarried?” your voice broke, realizing her urgency.

“You’re septic, your body is actively miscarrying, do you want me to call Ja-“.

Throughout your career you’ve had to call more family members than you can count about mandatory evacuation of the fetus, emergency hysterectomy, pelvic fractures, the works. You gave those calls only to be met with judgmental, distraught, sometimes awkward, other times incompetent, partners on the other line. Jack was none of those but the common denominator was, they would rather their partner tell them than the woman who just operated on their partner. Jack had to hear it from you. Had to know you were conscious and not under the scalpel you basically lived with. 

“No- No, can you bring Heather please?” you cleared your throat, trying to process everything.

Jenna brought a wheelchair out to wheel you into a room, grabbing a hold of your arm and using the blood pressure cuff to find a vein for your I.V. “We can do this one of two ways, D&C or antibiotics” she told you, “For your sake I’d do a D&C, ultimately it’s up to you, it is a bit painful afterward but with a guaranteed outcome- we’ll put you under. Antibiotics we’d have to keep you-“.

“D&C” you responded, “Please”.

“Okay, I’ll alert Collins, she’ll come afterwards, let’s get you prepped love” she told you. 

You don’t remember anything afterwards, you do remember waking up in post-op, groggy from the anesthesia. Heather and Dana at your bedside. It hurt all over, mentally speaking, your limbs felt too heavy and you felt trapped.

“We’re going to keep her for another hour then could either of you take her home?” you heard a voice speak, another muffled voice saying ‘yes’. 

“What time is it?” you croaked from lack of the intubation tube.

“It’s 4:30 hon, they’re going to keep you until 5 and then Heather is going to take you home” Dana spoke up, hands patting your head to soothe you. “None of the staff knows you’re here, I forbade Robby from letting Jack know until you’re ready”. 

You nodded, throat bobbing from the overwhelming sense of pain and frustration. Your teeth and jaw remained clenched, you were angry, hurt, confused, most importantly, you were grieving. A sob broke out of you, the croaks that left your throat haunted both Dana and Heather. 

It was a long hour, an even longer car ride to your home. You had no idea what to tell Jack or how you even got to that point. When Heather’s car pulled in instead of yours and she helped you out of the car, confusion was the only thing that crowded his mind. He took over for Heather, saying thank you before she gave your forehead a kiss and bid you both a goodbye. Leading you into the house, seeing the pained expression on your face, he didn’t know if he should pry or give you space. You took a seat on the barstools at your island, eyes devoid of emotion, Jack stood at the counter, looking at you, studying you. 

“They-“ you tried to speak up, Jack’s ears perking, “Jenna had to perform a D&C on me today” you broke the news, “I was miscarrying and about to go into septic shock when Jenna gave me the ultrasound after I had a woman needing an angioembolization” you whispered, biting your bottom lip so hard you could taste the blood. You didn’t cry, you just told him. There was not a sheer worse pain than the cramps that overtook your body, but you could see it on Jack’s face. His normal, playful, stoicism was gone and he looked just as numb as you.

It broke your heart. You told him like you always do when he asks how it was at work. 

He breathed deeply before speaking, walking towards you in order to place a kiss on your forehead, “They got everything?”.

You nodded, “I just- I need some time” your voice cracked the tiniest bit. You shrugged him off before making your painful way to the en-suite in your bedroom. 

It hurt to pee, to stand, you gripped onto the support bar for dear life, blood trailed down your legs and pain raked through your entire body. Jack could hear your sobs from the living room. It hurt to breathe. 

Jack laid out your clothes, your heating pad, and was already making you soup. You stared at the bed for minutes which felt like hours. Your back would spasm with pain every few minutes. You dressed, got into the bed and wrapped yourself in the blankets. 

Jack walked in with the soup in hand, blowing on it so it wouldn’t burn your tongue. You remained asleep, in pain but asleep. He took his spot next to you, wrapping his arms securely around yours, letting your nervous system regulate. He let you sob into his chest, told you to drink water and eat so you can heal. 

You couldn’t. He wasn’t going to force you. Whimpers left your body as it ran feverish, Jack immediately put a cold compress on the nape of your neck. He didn’t know the words to say to remedy you. But he sure made up for it action wise. 

The days following you let him take care of you, Gloria had called and gave you all the time you’d want off, it counted as bereavement pay, the amount of times you and Jack worked overtime, you had enough days for a near two months. Heather came over to hang out with you and on her day off, Robby came to have beers with Jack in the backyard.

You weren’t in so much pain after a few days, the insomnia that hit you worried both you and Jack. Most days you didn’t speak so the irritability that coursed through you whenever something remotely pissed you off never made its way off your tongue. You decided you should tell your mom, wanting drive down to Boston the next day. Jack wanted whatever you wanted, even if it meant not spending time with you or taking care of you. Interactions with you were sparing to begin with. It was a 9 hour drive, of course he was worried, it was what you needed, he had no mind to take that from you. 

You left at 3 am, you stopped by the Pitt to say bye to him, it was the first time in a week anyone saw you and they didn’t know why. Rumors spread, first it was relationship issues, someone in your family died, maybe cheating. 

It wasn’t that bad of a car ride, when you reached your mom’s house 2 hours earlier than expected, she was worried you were driving all night without Jack. Once you made it to your mom’s arms, you instantly just broke. But then you remembered, the only person that got you, understood and truly comforted you, was Jack- and Heather. 

“At least you weren’t pregnant for that long” your mom started as you both sat down on the living room couch, there was a silence between you both as you genuinely wondered if those words had left your mom’s mouth or you were going crazy, “Look at the brigh-“.

“There is no bright side to this mom” you groaned, irritability finally running its course, “I lost a baby for pete sake’s, when this happened to Y/s/n my god I can’t even put into words how you were”.

“Well let’s be realistic, Y/s/n wasn’t putting herself at risk because she waited for what? For a career?” she prodded, “Not to mention look who you’re with Y/n, both of you are way too old to be thinking of kids, move on from that stage- you’re not even married”. 

“I have to drive hours to see you yet you drop everything to be with Y/s/n and she lives across the country” you raked a hand through your hair, “And what the fuck do you mean?”.

“Do not raise your voice at me” your mom shouted at you, “You and I both know it is more common-“.

“I’m sorry who the fuck went to medical school out of the two of us?” you cut her off, “There’s a risk every single pregnancy, you think because I’m 33 I deserve to be handed this for ‘betraying my femininity’ for a career? You don’t seem to mind said career when you’re googling xyz and calling me in the middle of the fucking night”.

She remained stunned, “You’re hormonal, you’re not thinking rat-“.

“I am fine!” you broke, gritting your teeth, “You know I’ve always had dreams about you at my wedding but don’t even fucking bother anymore” you told her, putting the nail to the coffin, grabbing your car keys. By 1 pm you were as far away as humanly possible.

You made it to Pittsburgh at 11 pm, traffic took a hold on the interstate. You had stopped in Philly to get cheesesteaks for you and Jack. When you got home, his truck wasn’t in the driveway. You pulled out your phone to text him you were back, smiling at the lock screen. 

It was one of the first photos you took with Jack, you both were in a trauma room in Daryl Kennedy’s chest cavity and Jack had identified the bleeder before thinking of pressure. Blood coated all over his gown and face, when you guys exited out of the room, it looked like you both saw war. So Bridget took it upon herself to snap a photo. 

From babe; Back so soon? 

The same way you didn’t want Jenna to be the one to break the news to him, you didn’t want him finding out about your mom via text. 

You ended up crashing on the couch, the prolonged driving, the arguing. You were grateful for the fact that you and Jack often disagreed but never got into heated arguments that left you both with a sour taste in your mouth. You won the lottery when it came to understanding and communicative partners, you thanked therapy on both of your parts and the fact that you guys suffered in the beginning, basically making everything else easier.

You woke up from Jack coming home at 7 in the morning, unlocking the front door and accidentally dropping his keys on the doorstep. You got up to stretch, feeling like you reeked of the air conditioner from your car. You met him at the door, his smile making you feel better. 

“Thought you were going to spend the night over there?” he told you, hanging his keys on the rack, kissing you as he walked to the kitchen. 

Jack refused to treat you like fragile porcelain, he knew you hated it just as much as he did when he got his leg amputated. So, he’d talk to you normally, avoiding talking about the subject unless you brought it up. Only thing he did refuse was sex, you needed to heal internally. He did give you massages every other night, you’d beg him to massage your clit only for him to try and the contraction of your vagina to cause pain in your pelvis. 

“We got in an argument” you confessed, trailing behind him, “Didn’t really end so well”.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked as he went into the fridge for his water jug. 

“She insinuated this happened because I focused on being a surgeon in my twenties- I passed my prime and knew the risks” you sighed. 

“What do you think?”.

“I think I was just careless, I was working long days, overtime and always on my feet- I was stressing myself out” you shrugged. 

“You weren’t careless Y/n” he said before taking a swig of water, “Hell do you not remember the amount of books we bought?” he chuckled, “We’ll- you’ll get through this”.

“We will” you clarified, “It takes two” you joked. It was the first time you had- if anything this is the most Jack’s gotten out of you in days. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, you gave him a hug, leading him to kiss the top of your head. “I’m sorry” you whispered.

“For?”.

“I’ve nudged you out of this” you sighed, “I don't even know how you feel”.

He looked into your eyes, “I feel like we should wait, let time run its course” he got closer to you, “When the time comes, it’ll come”. Jack had a staring problem, made you swoon, made others intimidated, “But for now we need to focus on you”. Those were the same eyes you fell in love with, the eyes you wish your children would have, “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”.

“I feel like I’ve rushed and forced this whole thing” you sighed, tears slightly welling up in your eyes, “Would we have gotten engaged if we didn’t almost break up over that argument?” you were spilling every thought and word, you knew him, you knew he wouldn’t get defensive over something you felt, “Better yet kids? Would that have even been a thought a couple months ago?”.

He sighed before squatting down so you can look down at him rather than up this entire time, it hurt the hell out of his back and put more pressure than he’d be comfortable with on his prosthetic. “I’ve wanted both of those things, before and during you” he took your knees in his hands, “It was hard to come to terms with it especially after already-“ he’s grip on your knees went tense, “It was always a ‘when and where’ with you. Before, dating, marriage, hell even hookups, kids, all were off the tables- not even a thought. I have to admit I’ve had my doubts, I’ve had vices and moments where I felt like I couldn’t be enough for you, couldn’t be enough to be there for you” he confessed, your hands found their way to his, “But I’m not me without you”.

“I’m not me without you either” you spoke up, “You’ve been more than enough help to me Jack” you slowly appreciated, “I need time. So much time that I can’t put a limit on” you spared breath, swallowing the shudder, “I love you, I don’t want this to break us”.

“Y/n, you could never drag me out of this, unless it was something you really wanted” he told you, “You’re it for me- for as long as you’ll have me”.

You returned to work that Monday, working day shifts, your engagement ring shining again the fluorescents. It turned down the rumors of the nurses, the silence as they saw you working was enough. The warmth of Pittsburgh cascading through the air, spring in full swing. 

By the middle of April, you decided to take a test, two weeks of sporadic and careful passion with your fiance. As the lines indicated a pregnancy, you immediately dropped everything that night, driving to PTMC as quickly as you could. You stole Jack away from his job, he was worried for you, thinking you were hurt, only for you to ask for a blood test. All indicative of pregnancy.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[maskedbyghost]

Possessive reader has had partners before Simon, yeah? Don't suppose any of them are the same flavor of 'mine mine mine' regarding her? Cuz if so, Simon's gonna need to clean up those loose ends. Can't have them thinking they can try and object at the inevitable wedding like some kind of Hallmark movie!

Omg YES. The reader definitely has an ex or two still a little hung up on her, because let’s be honest, someone that obsessed, that intense, that ride-or-die? She’s not exactly forgettable.

You didn’t even react when the text came in. You barely glanced at your phone, just rolled your eyes, and went right back to folding laundry like it wasn’t worth your energy.

But Simon saw it. You knew he saw it because he stopped what he was doing, leaned over, and picked your phone up off the bed without even asking.

“Who’s that?” he asked, even though he was already reading it.

You shrugged. “Some guy I used to fuck around with before I met you. He’s been blocked since last year, so I guess he found a new number.”

Simon didn’t answer. Just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the message.

You still with that guy? You deserve someone who actually sees how good you are. You know where to find me.

You didn’t even try to explain. What was there to say? You’d deleted that man like an app you forgot existed. Gone. Done. But Simon wasn’t looking at you—he was still staring at your phone, his jaw tight.

You sat back on your knees, watching him. “Don’t get quiet. You know I don’t give a shit about him.”

“I know,” he muttered, his tone calm. “But he doesn’t.”

That’s when he tapped a few things. Deleted the message, blocked the number again. Same way you would have. Except he held your phone for another minute after that, just looking at it. Not saying a word.

Then he handed it back and stood up like nothing happened. “I’ll take the trash out,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. Which was weird, because there was no trash. Not in the actual bin, anyway.

You tilted your head. “You mean metaphorically or—?”

“Both,” he called back.

And that was that. You didn’t ask, you didn’t need to.

You knew Simon wouldn’t do anything stupid, but you also knew he had a way of handling shit when it pissed him off enough. Not like you—loud, mouthy, dramatic, always saying shit like mine mine mine until he groans and tells you you’re a menace while literally pulling you closer.

But him? He didn’t need to scream. Didn’t need to threaten. All he had to do was decide something—and then it was done.

Still, later that night, you were sprawled across his lap, phone in hand, scrolling for something to watch, when you decided to poke the bear a little.

“Y’know,” you said casually, “if some idiot tried to object at our wedding, I’d probably laugh in his face and then throw my shoe at him.”

Simon didn’t even look up from where he was rubbing slow circles into your hip. “Wouldn’t get the chance.”

You smirked. “Why? ‘Cause you’d handle it?”

“No,” he said, finally glancing up at you. “Because anyone that stupid won’t make it to the wedding.”

You stared at him for a second.

Then you leaned in real close, grinning like the psycho you are. “God, I fucking love you.”

He kissed you hard, like he was trying to remind you he was just as gone for you as you were for him.

“Yeah?” he muttered, breath hot against your lips. “Then quit stressin’ about shit that’s already handled.”

And you did. Because you knew—anyone who still thought they had a shot with you? They didn’t anymore. Simon made sure of that.

Not because he was jealous. But because you were his just as loudly and unshakably as he was yours. And anyone who didn’t get the memo?

They’d be lucky to walk away with a warning.

--------------------------------------------

this was the last request i had sitting in my inbox for these two, so if y’all want more unhinged possessive nonsense, you’re gonna have to ask, i’m always down to write more of them, just need ideas to work with. you know where to find me <333

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

[ddlydevotion]

PEARL NECKLACE

nsfw remmick headcanons

a/n: this wasn’t written with solely white audiences in mind, I know a lot of people have been worried about that when it comes to Sinners fanfiction. I’m Afro-Latina so you don’t have to worry about that here lol. Mentions of stretch marks.

Okay, don't hit me when I say this but I know for a fact that this man doesn't shave. I can't imagine him being all bare down there, are you kidding me? He definitely trims himself when the time calls for it but doesn't do anything more aside from that.

He couldn't care less if you're rocking a full bush. He'd probably smile out of how silly the situation is. Here's a man who feeds on the blood of the living in order to survive and you think he cares about some hair.

I forgot who said it first so if you know their @ please drop it in the comments, but I fully agree on the sentiment that Remmick would be completely desperate when it comes to you. He'd balance a bottle of Jack on his head if it meant you'd let him taste you. He'll paw at your thighs and look up at you with pleading, furrowed brows when you stop his attempt at lifting your skirt up.

He drools on your pussy.

His cock almost slips out of your pussy because of how wet you are, his thick drool mixing with your leaking wetness. He grabs the base of his cock, running it up your slit before slapping it on your swollen, fat clit, the impact leaving a wet plap! ring in the air.

" Shhh it's okay theree ya go, sweetheart, let me put it back in for you. Ya gonna take it for me?" he presses his forehead onto yours before whispering "ya promise?" against your flushed lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

He prefers to cum inside of you rather than anywhere else on your body. It's not about him wanting to avoid making a mess because this man gets fucking nasty. He just loves knowing that you're filled with him, that he's leaking from your swollen pussy. When he's about to cum he settles his hips flush against yours, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck. You swear you hear him whine as he moves his hips in tight circles, savoring the feeling of your gummy walls around his pulsing cock, his cum leaking from where the two of you are joined & down onto the bed.

he spreads you open with his thumbs, your throbbing clit and glistening pussy greeting him, and he has his very own way of greeting 'her' back.

Remmick definitely has a habit of talking to your pussy and referring to it as she and her. "Look at all that, baby. She missed me, huh? Look'a me, ya know you can't lie to me."

"Oh sweetheart, look at you. Gonna milk my cock? Thereee she is, there you go."

He'd definitely want you to sit on his face. His strong hands grip the globes of your ass in an attempt to bury his face even further in your pussy. If he notices you're holding back on him, he'll look you right in the eyes before saying, "sit. I told'ya to sit.", his words being slightly muffled by your plush thighs.

The two of you hardly leave the bedroom when you're on your period. He nearly drools at the sight of your tender tits, the stretch marks lining them appearing to be even more prominent. The sight of his lips covered in blood as he peaks at you from in between your thighs is enough to make you mewl, your eyes glazing over.

I'd say his aftercare mainly consists of pillow talk. He'll tuck you into his side and sling his defined arm over your shoulder. He'll look down at you with a small smile painting his face while checking in on you but not without letting out a teasing remark or two. "That wasn't too much, was it? I dunno, thought you were gonna pass out on me" (this part was inspired by @spikedfearn)

[lightlybloomed]

You Knew Without Asking (G.C)

You show up at George Clarke's flat after a breakup. He’s always known the things you never had to say — and maybe that’s exactly what love is.

thank you to anon for the request :)

You never expected the moment of clarity to hit you in a booth at a ramen place you didn’t even like.

Your boyfriend — well, now your ex, though you hadn’t said the words aloud yet — sat across from you, chopsticks clumsily clinking against the ceramic bowl, talking about someone at work and laughing like everything was fine. Like everything was normal.

But it wasn’t.

The miso was too salty. The noodles were rubbery. And worst of all, he hadn’t noticed your silence.

You’d told him before that this place wasn’t your thing. Three times, actually. And yet here you were, again. The same corner booth, the same indifferent waiter, the same ache in your chest.

“Everything alright?” he asked mid-laugh, sipping his beer.

You smiled, tightly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

And maybe that was the most honest thing you could say.

Because you were tired. Tired of pretending, of accepting crumbs and calling it love. Tired of forcing small talk when what you really wanted was someone who noticed. Who saw you.

You let the conversation drift around you, your mind miles away, quietly folding the corner of your napkin over and over in your lap. When he suggested going for drinks after, you shook your head. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

He nodded, unfazed. “Cool, I’ll see you later then.”

No kiss on the cheek. No concern. Just… cool.

You were halfway down the street when you opened your phone and typed out a message without thinking:

You up for tea?

The reply came seconds later.

Always. I’ll put the kettle on.

You nearly cried, standing there under a flickering streetlight, phone clutched in your hand like a lifeline.

George’s flat was warm and soft-lit, smelling like bergamot and whatever candle he always had burning in the corner. He opened the door in joggers and a hoodie, hair slightly messy, a tea towel flung over his shoulder.

He looked at you like he knew.

Not just that you’d been crying in the Uber over something you couldn’t quite name, or that your jacket wasn’t warm enough for the weather. But like he knew you.

“Hey,” he said, gently.

And that was it. That one word broke something in you.

You barely got inside before you were in his arms, sobbing into the fabric of his hoodie. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, and he didn’t ask questions. Just held you like he’d been waiting to.

It took a while for the tears to stop.

When they did, George handed you a mug of tea — just the way you liked it — and guided you to his couch, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You sniffled and leaned into the corner of the sofa, hands wrapped around the ceramic for warmth.

“I broke up with him,” you said eventually, voice hoarse.

George didn’t flinch. “I figured.”

“I mean, I didn’t say it, but… it’s done. It has to be.” You looked down at your lap. “He didn’t know me, George. Not really. Not in the ways that count.”

George stayed quiet, but you could feel the weight of his attention.

“I told him I hated that ramen place,” you continued. “I told him three times. And yet he booked it for date night like it was this big gesture. And he doesn’t know my favourite colour. Or that I hate coriander. Or that I hate being the last one to leave a party.”

Your voice cracked. “He doesn’t see me.”

George leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Some people love the version of you that’s easiest to be around. But not everyone wants to learn the parts that take time.”

You stared at him.

“And you?” you whispered.

He looked up at you then, eyes soft. “I want to know all of it.”

You fell asleep in his hoodie, curled up on the sofa, your head resting against his shoulder. He stayed up beside you, scrolling quietly through his phone, his other hand tucked beneath the blanket near yours.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you mumbled something in your sleep — something about daffodils, and missing your mum, and the smell of old books. He smiled.

Even in your dreams, you made sense to him.

You woke to the smell of pancakes and the low hum of George singing something under his breath in the kitchen. Your heart did this weird, warm flip in your chest.

He was there, sleeves pushed up, flipping pancakes with a confidence that probably wasn’t deserved, but the smile on his face made up for any culinary failures.

“These might be slightly undercooked,” he admitted when he caught you watching from the doorway, “but I remembered you like crispy edges. And syrup on the side.”

You blinked, stunned. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t have to.”

You sat across from each other at his small kitchen table, sleepy and silent in the golden morning light.

After a few minutes, George cleared his throat.

He leaned forward slightly, “I'll always notice, you know. When you’re quiet in a way that doesn’t feel right. Or knowing when you need space but not distance. Or that you always hum when you're focusing, and your left eyebrow twitches when you're lying.”

You blinked at him, completely still.

“I know you, because I want to,” he said simply. “Not because I’m trying to get it right. Just because… I care.”

Something in your chest gave way.

He looked suddenly shy. “That was probably too much.”

“It wasn’t,” you whispered. “It wasn’t too much.”

You didn’t plan to kiss him.

But when you stood up to bring your plate to the sink, and he met you halfway with his hand on your waist and those familiar, kind eyes — it happened.

Soft. Sure. Real.

The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything. Just gave.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded. “I think I finally am.”

That afternoon, the two of you sat in his living room, wrapped in blankets and watching your favourite show. You sipped your second cup of tea, your head on his shoulder, and for the first time in forever, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for something else to happen.

“What now?” you asked.

George tilted his head, thoughtful. “Now we take it slow. Or fast. Or somewhere in between. Whatever you want.”

You looked up at him. “As long as it’s with you?”

He grinned. “As long as it’s with me.”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Virgin (John Walker)

Description: John takes Y/N’s virginity

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,560

Dating John Walker could be a challenge at times but the man knew what he was doing and how to please a woman. Not just sexual, actually Y/N had yet to get to that part yet with him. He knew how to please her in other ways like buying her things, telling her he loves her and watching her favorite movies. She never asked John for anything but he did it anyway. Right now the other avengers were out of the tower and it was just them left as they made out in her bed.

She was on his lap with her hands in his hair as they kissed. This was something Y/N was used to since they did it all the time, it was really fun but made Y/N nervous that she wasn’t giving him enough. His lips moved down to her neck to let her breathe a minute before moving back up to her lips. John wanted to take things further tonight, given the fact that they’d be alone for hours. “You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled against her lips, causing her to smile. “You’re very hot.” She mumbled back and he got hard at that.

She gasped and pulled away from the kiss to look down, she felt him harden against. “That’s what you do to me.” He told her and she looked back up at him, red in the face. She figured that he’d want to try to take things further tonight but she needed to tell him that she’s never done anything like that. In fact, he was her first makeout session, sure she’s kissed before but not like that. “John, there's something you should know.” She said and started playing with his hair.

He rubbed her hips, “What is it?” He asked, not knowing what she was going to stay. “I-I haven’t had sex before.” She confessed. “Really?” He asked, shocked. She nodded, “Actually I’ve never even had an orgasm.” His eyes widened at that. “Seriously? A pretty girl like you has never even cum before? If I was you I’d be touching myself all of the time.” She giggled at his words and shrugged. He cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her again, “Orgasms feel incredible, you’re missing out.” He mumbled against her lips. She thought about how awesome they must feel and felt herself get wet.

“John, I want you to give me my first orgasm.” She tells him after moments of them kissing. He smirked like he was waiting his whole life for this moment. His hands moved from her face to her tits that were covered in his hoodie that he’d given to her. Her jaw dropped and he massaged them, a foreign feeling but a good one. “This would feel a lot better without my hoodie.” He said and removed it, leaving her bare to him. Her nipples were hard and begging to be played with, though he took a different approach and leaned towards her tits, taking one in his mouth.

She whimpered at the feeling of his tongue circling around her nipple, “Fuck.” She moaned softly as she felt his teeth graze her nipple. His hands moved down to her hips, squeezing them and playing with her panties. One of his hands slips into her panties and grazes her clit, she gasped loudly and gripped his hair, hard causing him to grunt. He liked that feeling a lot. Her clit was throbbing with need as he teased her lips and gathered her wetness.

She didn’t have to muffle the noises she made but still felt pathetic being too loud as he was not even doing much yet. “John.” She whimpered and he pulled away from her nipple, his fingers gathered up her wetness and traced her hole. Her breath hitched as not even herself has done that before. One of her hands moved down to his shoulder and gripped it as he pushed a finger inside of her. She cried his name as his finger stretched her tight hole, his eyes moving all over her face, watching as she tried to get used to the feeling.

“It’s okay.” He said, softly and she nodded. Her walls squeezed his finger and begged him to move. He started thrusting his finger in her and she whined, a lot louder than she intended it to be. “T-that feels amazing.” She whispered, voice cracking with pleasure. He decided to add another finger which made her cry his name again. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close as he moved his fingers slow at first, testing the waters but moving faster. The pain subsided and now every thrust of his fingers, she was moaning. Her panties were soaked as her juices collected in them. She shifted at the feeling, “Can we remove my panties?” She asked him. How submissive, he thought and nodded.

His other hand came down and removed her panties, revealing her wet pussy. “Oh John.” She moaned and her head fell back. He took the opportunity to suck on her neck, leaving a mark. “I think I'm close.” She cried out and he nodded, still sucking on her neck. His other hand moved to her clit and began rubbing it, “Cum for me.” He mumbled in her neck and she let out a loud moan as she did. His fingers slowed, helping her ride out her first orgasm that nearly made her fall off his lap. It hit her hard and made her body shake. John kissed all over her neck and chest as she calmed down.

She whimpered as he pulled out his fingers that were covered in her cum. They both looked at his fingers and she looked embarrassed, “Hey this is extremely hot.” He tells her and puts them in his mouth, humming at the taste. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her cum off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good.” He said, “Do you want to taste yourself?” He asked and she shamefully nodded. He leaned in and kissed her, hard, letting his tongue invade her mouth. He tasted like her as he let her suck his tongue. He was right, she did taste good. “I want more.” She said out of breath and he chuckled, “That good huh?” He was being cocky but he had a right to be.

She leaned in and licked his ear, “Incredible.” She whispered. She pulled away and ran her lips over his, “Just imagine how incredible it would feel with my dick inside of you.” He said against her lips. She smirked, “Let’s make it happen.” He flipped her over, causing her to gasp. He sat up and removed his shirt revealing his toned abs. She let out a breath at the sight, she always loved how fit he was. Her hands reached up to run all over his torso, “So sexy.” She mumbled and he smirked before removing his sweats.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his hard bulge. He chuckled and removed his boxers, her jaw dropped at the sight. He was huge, bigger than she’s ever seen. His hand wrapped around himself, “You’re so big.” She whispered. He got in between her legs more and pulled her down by her thighs, her head hitting the pillows. “Are you ready?” He asked and she nodded, nerves through the roof. She gripped the sheets as she felt him right at her entrance. He pushed into her, slowly. She gasped loudly as his big dick stretched her, her walls squeezing him tight. “Fuck.” He groaned and grabbed her hips.

His dick was a lot bigger than his fingers but she tried not to think about the pain, “It’s okay.” He whispered as he watched her. He let her adjust to him before he did an experimental thrust. Her expression and moan was all he needed to continue. He went slow at first, wanting to savor this moment but he, himself, was needy and began moving faster. The bed was rocking and luckily the headboard wasn’t against the wall, with his super soldier speed, he’d break it. “Faster.” She whined and tried reaching for him.

He leaned forward and took her hand interlocking it with his and placing it above her head as he thrusted. “You’re so beautiful.” He breathed out as his hips snapped against hers. She was too fucked out to respond. The only noises leaving her were moans and whines. His other hand leaning down to rub her clit, “John.” She whined. “Tell me what you need, baby.” She shook her head, she wasn’t able to really form words. “I-“ but he knew. She was close. She was panting and whining, her walls clenched around him, spasming like crazy.

He leaned in and whispered, “Cum for me.” On que she did, nearly screaming. This orgasm was a lot better than her first. It was more intense and took her breath away. John groaned and came as well, riding out their highs. He thrusted a few more times before laying on top of her. She felt him softening inside of her as she rubbed his back, “That was awesome.” She whispered and he chuckled. “Yeah, pretty awesome.” He said, snuggling into her neck. “Glad I could be the first and only person to ever fuck you.” She hummed. “You better be, John Walker.”

[6okuto]

Vere Relationship HCS

GN!reader | i got u anon. Shocked to see i haven't done ts relationship hcs bUT i shall link my masterlist with old hcs anyway since there's a lot of overlap. if that tickles anyone's fancy. hate that saying a little bit. anyway

Empty threats... outsiders fearful of Vere can't believe you're with him. He says he'll kill you or you'll find something dead waiting on your bed like a cat bringing in a mouse and you just Laugh and they're like ??!!?!?!?!. But they don't see his pout, nor do they care about how his tail swishes in amusement as you bite back

It's silent things! Like him making a second drink for you without being asked. Pulling you out of the way when someone's about to bump into you (and sending them a cold glare). Fixing your necklace because the clasp has circled round to the front. Etc...

Getting out of bed on a free day can be one of life's biggest challenges when you're dating Vere Touchstarved. The Clingerrr. One time he almost hisses as you try to leave and you're like Wow

In general I think Vere likes when your attention is on him. In an established relationship, you've gone through the main mess of attachment and trust issues, violence, etc. and he's very confident in your relationship and feelings. And yet. He still prefers when your eyes are on him, and in big events, if he wants your attention away from your friends and acquaintances... well!

Hrm. At the start, I imagine him going through this dip where that last point is. a super prominent Thing going on, and you're like ...? before he goes back to his usual independence.

If you go on a long trip without him, he can handle himself, but he is affected by it more than he'll admit to other people. Guy who likes playing it cool...

Surprise escape room date where Vere is suddenly the biggest threat in the room because why would you do that. You want him to. solve Multiple Puzzles? You have his company for the afternoon and You Do This? I DO THINK. Hm. You could convince him to lock in but it'll take a lot of promises. He keeps messing with you even then though. Of course. Also if it's one of the horror rooms he may or may not almost attack one of the scare actors

Asking Vere to draw things for you... He's so. You're like Don't spend long on this please and he does anyway because he's not one to half-ass anything especially if it's for you Hello?? "Do you think you could doodle this character I'm creating so I can envision them better" And he gives you a bust, full body, outfit options like oh okay hello Hello???

Intimate baths... Vere fully relaxed and you're just enjoying each other's company... Him laying between your legs or vice versa... Bubbling and foaming up his hair and making silly shapes... Exactly

Nips you when you're annoying him. LOL. Squishing his cheeks and he turns to bite your thumb. Messing with his hair while his head is in your lap and he nips your thigh or turns for your hand. Suggestive I guess but he does it while trailing kisses down from your jaw. A favourite thing to do!

Vere gets.. opinionated.. when it comes to home decor and furniture. His taste is good! It's just... you know... if yours clashes, this Ikea trip will be a test. He'll barely, if at all, help build it when you get home so you'll have needed to plan for this by calling in back-up. He'd rather offer refreshments while you're all at the peak of suffering because you can't find a screw and the parts won't sit flat against each other and

If you fall asleep on him, he Will glare at anyone who comes by and might wake you. He's very gentle with his touches, and if you could see the fond affection on his face sometimes... wow.

I think I said this in an old post but Vere falling asleep on you is soo important to me actually because he's open and vulnerable but he trusts you completely.

Big fan of those teasing condescending (??) pet names like hellooo "sweetheart." This mostly pops up when he's fucking with you but oh my goodness a sincere "sweetheart" when you go to him for comfort or catch him in a good mood... Icna'tb icantpelase

It's very important to me to imagine Vere coming to you for comfort... It's very obvious at this point when he's putting up a front or hiding something... Depending on how bad, you might wait for him to broach the topic first, playing along with his distractions. Has anyone imagined Vere crying. lol. I don't know what he'd cry about but the thought of him crying and trying to push away your affection before surrendering completely . lol. Lol. not that i care

[erenstitanweave]

RUNWAY WALK!

synopsis: rumors quickly began spreading that new york city's hottest model has been spotted seemingly being smitten with spiderman on numerous occasions, little does the public understand, though, the two are far past smitten.

rating: sfw (obviously), two teens in love i fear, kissing, reader is a well known model, reader and miles giggle about an inside joke (will be explained dw), miles is a FLIRT.

a/n: is this extremely self indulgent? absolutely!! do i care? absolutely NOT!! in all seriousness though, i love love love miles so much (no one say i have a type, NO ONE.) so i had to write for him!! this might not even get posted but just in case it does, reblogs and comments are well appreciated, enjoy!!

Headlines were one of two things, a way to spread publicity in a good way, or, more likely, a way for shitty journalists to get a buck. This newest headline about you was unfortunately an instance of the latter.

“NEW YORK’S HOTTEST MODEL SPOTTED WITH SPIDER-MAN YET AGAIN: COINCIDENCE OR SOMETHING MORE?”

You sighed as your eyes glazed over the big bold letters, no doubt you’d be getting an earful from your manager about this later. For now, though, the headline unfortunately took your attention off of the one currently laying on you. Miles groaned in annoyance, snatching your hand back towards him and putting it back in his hair, smirking against your skin once he felt the bliss of your nails gently scratching his scalp. You let out a small laugh and moved the phone away from your face, looking down at him. He peered up at you with a look in his eyes, a mixture of curiosity and what looked to be knowing. “You can't keep stalking me, you know that, right?” You asked, taking your hand out his hair and moving it down to his jaw, rubbing small circles with your thumb into the back of his neck.

He shifted his upper body, taking his face out the crook of your neck and opting to just lie on your chest. “Not stalking..it's called checking on you.” He mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open as he spoke. The slight ray of sunlight from the window beamed down onto his face, moreso his eyes in particular, his eyes making your heart melt. “You're lucky you're cute, but I can't get fired because you keep ‘bumping’ into me.” You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Just..try to be subtle, my love.” You whispered, feeling his grip slightly tighten around you. He pressed his lips to your collar, sprinkling kisses wherever he could reach without exerting himself too much.

You felt him hum in response against your skin, the sensation making you squirm slightly. His hands moved painstakingly slow up and down your sides, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin. You felt him murmuring against you, something that sounded like "I love you", but you weren't entirely sure. "Why don't you go to sleep? You've been half awake for two hours now." You asked, the sight of him making you giggle lightly. He barely shrugged his shoulders in response, staying still for a few minutes before lifting his head up to look at you. "Is it..really a problem? Me coming to see you, I mean." He clarified, adjusting his body and sitting up on his elbows. You hummed lightly, adjusting with him until you both laid down on your sides facing each other. "Not necessarily, at least, not to me." You said, leaning forward a bit and kissing his cheek. "I think she's just worried, stuff like this isn't usually taken well in the public eye. Plus, last thing you need is this backfiring on you."

Miles nodded slightly, his eyes closing in on your face, seemingly studying your expression. "Last thing you need is another mess on the runway because of me." He said with a laugh, making you giggle in response, shoving him lightly. "Yeah..she's still pissed about that, next time, aim the flowers at me and not at a rookie behind me." Miles groaned and rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath. "It was one time! I didn't do it again, so what's she still mad for?" He said, his lips contorting into that stupidly cute pout he always did. You both just laughed at each other, the laughter slowly dying out as the calm atmosphere consumed you both.

"Well, I guess you could start checking up on me before or after the shows..I mean, if you aren't catching any bank robbers or anything." You sighed, picking up your phone and continuing to scroll through the different news articles once again. Miles silently stared at you for a moment, just letting his eyes wander over your face and then the phone screen. His attention was caught by an article you mindlessly scrolled past, making him lift his hand and scroll upward. "Is that..me?" He asked slowly, the disbelief in his voice evident as you squinted your eyes to read the title.

"SPIDER-MAN: FROM THE EYES OF NEW YORK"

The title was oddly worded, at least, until you clicked on the actual article. The sight before you made you burst out laughing, the phone being dropped onto the bed somehow made it even funnier. The photos under the title were seemingly taken by people watching Miles fight, most of the photos probably even frames of videos made the poses caught by the camera even more hilarious. Miles, on the other hand, did NOT find this amusing in the slightest. The first image was probably the funniest, with him mid flip and his lanky arms dangling in the air. The second, taken mid-fight with a few bank robbers, showed Miles in the air looking as though he was floating above the criminals below him. The third, however, was the funniest one to you. Miles apparently had ordered a pizza for himself, only for a pigeon to take the pizza before he could even get it out of the box.

Between your tears and laughter, you silently thanked whoever took the photo, knowing it'd probably make it's way to your wallpaper once Miles left. Miles just stared at you with a blank expression, making the whole thing even more funny. "None of that was funny, baby." He huffed, snatching the phone and swiping out of the app. You breathed in and out for a moment, giggling to yourself as you tried to reach for the phone. "Wait! Come on, I wasn't even laughing that much!" You said, flopping down onto him and reaching for the phone. Miles kept up though, moving the phone every split second before you could grab it. Suddenly, he drops the phone right behind his head, his hands reaching to cradle the back of your neck and your jawline. His movements made you halt on your own, staying wide-eyed and completely still.

"As much as I love you, you can't beat me." He whispered with that stupid smirk on his face, kissing your cheek and around your mouth, very purposely missing your lips. You groaned lightly, giving his chest a gentle shove with a smile on your face. "Stop playing and kiss me, you dork." You giggled, leaning in and letting him kiss you. You moved upward, resting yourself on your knees on either side of his legs, slowly moving your hand off his chest and onto the bed. You peeked out from one eye, quickly grabbing the phone and gently pulling away, watching Miles realize what you just did. "As much as I love you, you can't beat me." You said with a grin, kissing the side of his mouth and opening the phone once more, ready and eager to find your new wallpaper once again.

[darkseidex]

Hi! Can you do an Austin Butler x reader imagine where where they have a big but legal age gap, and so the reader is a virgin. Through their relationship Austin has always told her to not feel pressured to do anything, but one night after the Oscars After Party she decides that’s she’s ready to take things further. Austin is very gentle and talks her through it and everything😩

AAAH NONNIE!! Ty for the request!! I hope you don’t mind I tweaked it out a bit… because while I adore your mind and how it came up with this!! I truly hope you still like my twist of it. ALSO i forgot to say this but i suck at writing the second POV (y/n) fics, its not exactly my forte- I'm sorry :( ASKS ARE OPEN Y'ALL side note: AUSTIN BUTLER BEING A GOOD KISSER?? deux moi tell me the sky is blue and I'll be more shocked.

Oscar season was something Luella had watched from the safe confines of her room- on her macbook as Harvey would curl up on her lap and as she’d pull the beagle into her and pet him as her, Jasmine, Caleb and Vi critiqued everyones looks and gave their scoreboard of it, on a scale from 1- why did you even come?

Now by some twisted fate of some sort, here she was, in a pink crystal florets open back dress- smiling at camera’s as she was tucked into Austin's side, the man had his protective arm slung around her waist as he smiled now and again, gently rubbing her hip to ground her. Granted, she hadn’t come here without a bit of grovelling on Austin’s side. 

A few weeks before the Oscars, Luella was curled up on the couch in one of Austin’s hoodies, bonnet slightly askew, legs tucked under her like a pretzel. The TV hummed low with some chaotic skincare vlog while her tea sat forgotten on the coffee table, now lukewarm. She barely looked up when she heard the soft creak of the floorboards—Austin, barefoot, with that boyish grin and that too-soft way of looking at her like she was made of glass and gold.

“Baby,” he said, his voice low and affectionate, the way it always got when he was about to ask for something.

Luella hummed in response, eyes still on the screen. He sat on the edge of the couch near her knees, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“I want you to come to the Oscars with me,” he said, tone gentle, almost rehearsed.

“No,” she said instantly, not even glancing his way.

Austin laughed, not surprised. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I already know what you were gonna say,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “‘I want you there, it’d mean a lot, you’d look so beautiful, blah blah blah’. I’m good. Enjoy the chaos, though.”

He smiled, his eyes never leaving her. “Okay… you’d look so beautiful—obviously. But also, you’d make it bearable. You always do.”

That made her pause. She flicked her eyes toward him—just a glance—but he caught it. His hand found her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles through the fabric of her hoodie. Always grounding. Always gentle.

“You hate that scene, I know,” he said, voice quieter now, just for her. “But you’re not just my plus-one, Lu. You’re it. They should be lucky to see you at all.”

Luella blinked slowly, heart threatening to do that dumb fluttery thing it did whenever he got too sweet on her. She tried to mask it with a scoff.

“Why you always talk to me like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks movie?”

“Because I feel like I’m in one every time I look at you,” he replied without missing a beat.

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, lifting just enough to tell on her. He leaned in, kissed the top of her head, then brushed a second one against the tip of her nose for good measure.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, voice muffled as he pulled her against his chest.

“But you’ll come?” he asked, hopeful.

There was a pause. Then, against his shirt, she mumbled, “...I want a dress with sparkles. Like, obnoxious sparkles.”

Austin smiled into her hair. “Done. The sparklier, the better.”

He’d seen Luella dressed up before. Hell, he’d seen her stripped down and laughing in the low light of their kitchen, face dewy with skincare and a bonnet barely holding on. He’d seen her with mascara tears on her cheeks, in sweats five sizes too big, seen her pouty, smug, sleepy, giddy. He’d seen every version of her.

But nothing prepared him for this.

She stepped out of the car like the world was lucky to exist at the same time as her. Her dress shimmered with every flash of light—pink crystal florets hugging her curves, catching on the stretch of her hips, the dip of her waist, the line of her spine left bare by the open back. Her skin glowed like she'd been kissed by stars. Neck glistening, lashes heavy, lip glossed and glossy.

She didn’t look like she belonged on the sidelines anymore. She was the moment.

Austin froze for a second—not visibly, but something in him stopped. His chest tightened. That same ache he got when she fell asleep with her head in his lap or when she danced barefoot in the kitchen at midnight, humming some old SZA track.

And then she turned to him, one brow lifted like Well?

He didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled as he reached for her waist, pulling her close with a kind of reverence. His hand settled on the small of her back, thumb sweeping lightly over her skin. She smelled like her signature—soft florals, warm and familiar. He leaned in, voice low in her ear.

“You know I’m never gonna recover from this, right?”

Luella smirked, tilting her head as the cameras started going off. “You’ll be fine.”

But she pressed a kiss to his cheek anyway, then let her hand find his under the blinding lights, fingers intertwining like they always do. And for all the noise, the red carpet, the stylists and reporters and designer chaos, Austin barely heard a thing.

She was the only one in the room, and he couldn't take his eyes off her; he didn’t want to. Perhaps that’s what softened the sting of his loss—the way Luella’s devotion didn’t falter, not even for a second. The way she brought their joined hands to her lips, pressing a long kiss to his knuckles before whispering I love you into his ear just as the cameras shifted away. How could he feel like a loser when, with one glance to his left, he saw everything he’d ever truly wanted?

Now, hours later, she stood between his legs at the afterparty, changed into something softer, easier. Her heels were off, curls freed from their style, and her laugh was louder without the pressure of press. She looked at him like he was hers. And all he could think was: I’m the luckiest man in this room.

Intimacy had never been missing between them. Luella loved with her hands, her time, the way she’d curl into his chest at night and kiss the spot behind his ear when she thought he was asleep. She didn’t always say the words out loud—it was easier for her to show them than speak them. But when she did say them, like she had earlier, it hit him like scripture.

They’d been together for almost a year now. From the moment she’d agreed to be his—half-smiling across a tiny coffee shop table—it’d been the best year of his life.

They hadn’t had sex yet. Luella always blamed herself for that, though Austin gently reminded her not to phrase it like that. Still, he knew where it came from.

Before him, she’d been with a guy back in university. One of those on-again, off-again situations that left more bruises than memories. She’d finally undressed for him once—laid back, exposed, and hopeful—and he’d barely looked at her. Just slipped on a condom, lubed himself up, and thrust into her with all the consideration of a crossed-off to-do list. No warmth. No build-up. Just friction.

It lasted ten minutes. She remembered staring at the ceiling, counting dents and speckles in the plaster while he grunted above her, then asked casually, “Did you cum?” as he pulled out.

She’d gingerly nodded abd left the room.

Luella’s hand was tangled in the soft mess of Austin’s once perfectly styled hair, her nails grazing his scalp in slow, soothing strokes. He’d groaned low the first time she did it, that little sound blooming in her chest like validation. Now, nestled in a shadowed corner of the afterparty, her lips moved along the sharp line of his jaw, brushing kisses there like secrets, before drifting down to the warm skin of his neck.

She didn’t know how to say it. Not with words. That she needed him tonight—needed the kind of closeness that went deeper than anything they’d shared before. That she wanted to melt into him, to remind him without speaking that even in loss, he wasn’t empty.

To anyone watching from afar, he looked fine. Effortlessly composed, drink in hand, smile still reaching his eyes. But she knew better. She always did. The faint tension in his jaw, the way he exhaled a beat too slow—it told her everything she needed to know.

So here she was, draped over him in a dress she’d nearly fought her stylist over, practically curled into his lap as the room buzzed with industry noise. One hand in his hair, the other tracing idle circles along the collar of his shirt. Her thigh pressed between his knees, close enough that she could feel the shift of his breath against her temple when she leaned in to kiss just beneath his ear.

He laughed—quiet, breathless, the sound laced with heat and disbelief. “You’re really trying to kill me, huh?” he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear it.

She didn’t answer. Just nipped gently at his earlobe, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“I want you,” was what she didn’t say out loud. I want you tonight. I want you slow. I want you safe.

Instead, she kissed him again—longer this time, deeper—and hoped he heard it anyway

Austin’s hands, which had been resting loosely on her hips, tightened just slightly—enough for her to notice. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled back.

Not far. Just enough to look at her. His fingers slid from her waist to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing along her cheekbones like she was something precious—something he didn’t want to break by rushing.

“Lu,” he said, voice low, still laced with that breathless heat she’d stirred in him, “Baby, look at me.”

She blinked, lips parted, cheeks warm. She didn’t want to look at him—because if she did, she’d probably cry or say too much or freeze. But she did it anyway, because when Austin said look at me it never felt like a demand. It felt like safety.

His eyes searched hers, not for permission, but for truth. “I’ll give you anything, you know that. But not if you’re trying to make the hurt quiet.”

That was the thing about him—he never said are you sure? like she was fragile. He just asked if her heart was in it. If she was really here.

Luella’s throat felt tight. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” she whispered. “I just… I want to feel something good. With you.”

Austin exhaled like that undid him. His forehead tipped forward to rest against hers.

“You already do,” he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “You feel like the best thing I’ve ever touched.”

Her heart skipped a beat before she kissed him—once, twice, then a third time. By the fourth, she slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting the warmth of rum and frustration. She needed him to feel it. All of it. The love that burned her from the inside out, the kind that left her breathless and aching like a heart attack with no cure.

How could she show him? That he had cracked her open, rearranged her world to make space for a him-shaped presence she couldn’t imagine living without?

She was only twenty-three. A decade stretched between them, but it never felt like a divide. Never awkward, never too wide to reach across. He never made her feel small or inexperienced. Instead, he let her be—let her go out, drink too much, dance until sunrise. And then he’d show up in the early morning, hoodie on, Gatorade and pretzels in hand, like he had all the time in the world just to love her exactly where she was.

Luella’s breath hitched as he kissed her back—slow, sure, like he had all the time in the world, even as her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid he’d disappear. Her body moved closer, practically moulded to his now, desperate to collapse the inches between wanting and having.

“Baby,” she whispered, barely audible between kisses. It came out ragged, almost broken.

He stilled, forehead still pressed to hers. “Yeah?”

She closed her eyes. Her fingers slid down from his chest to his stomach, trembling just slightly, but there was intent in her touch now. She wasn’t sure what she was doing—wasn’t sure she could be sure—but she knew what she felt. Knew that her body wanted to speak for her when her voice shook too hard to try.

“I want…” she started, but the words caught in her throat.

He didn’t rush her. His hands stayed where they were—firm on her hips, unmoving. Anchoring.

“You don’t have to,” he said gently, like the weight of her didn’t scare him. “Not because you think I need it. Not to prove anything. I already know.”

Tears threatened to sting her eyes, but she didn’t blink them away. Her voice was soft, barely more than a breath. “I know. But I need you. Like—tonight. I want it to be you.”

His expression softened even further, impossibly tender. And still, he waited.

“Lu,” he said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “If we do this, we do it slow. We do it safe. We do it your way.”

A small laugh broke out of her—shaky, teary. “You always talk to me like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

Austin grinned, brushing a thumb along her cheekbone. “Because I feel like I’m in one every time you look at me.”

She kissed him again, this time slower. Less urgency. More trust.

And when he stood up, fingers gently intertwining with hers, she didn’t hesitate. She followed him without looking back, heart pounding, throat tight, but her feet steady. Because no matter what came next, she knew one thing for certain:

She’d never been more sure of anything in her life.

The ride home felt heavier than silence, thick with everything left unsaid but deeply understood. Luella sat with her hand in Austin’s, thumb tracing absentminded circles over his skin. Her other hand rested on her thigh, nails tapping against her dress in a rhythm only she knew. She didn’t speak—not because she was unsure, but because her mind was loud and full and if she said one word, it might all spill out too fast.

Austin glanced at her once. Then again. The streetlights slid across her face like slow-moving spotlight beams, catching the softness of her lashes, the gentle pinch between her brows. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

When they got to the house, she didn’t wait for him to open the door. Just stepped out, bare heels clicking gently against the pavement, purse tucked under her arm. ( something that would’ve got her an earful but he let her off the hook, this time)  He followed, quiet, patient, keeping pace behind her like he always did.

Inside, she took her shoes off with a relieved sigh and stood in the doorway for a second, like she was catching her breath. Like maybe the nerves were starting to creep in.

Austin came up behind her slowly, pressing a hand to the small of her back. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes still forward. “Yeah.”

Then she turned, looked up at him—really looked—and something in the air shifted. Her fingers rose to the tiny clasp at the nape of her neck, undoing it slowly. She didn’t peel the dress off all the way, just loosened it enough to make her point clear.

“I want to take a shower,” she said softly. “Will you come with me?”

Austin didn’t answer with words. He just kissed her—slow and full, one hand cupping her cheek, the other finding her waist. And when they pulled apart, nothing else needed to be said.

They moved through the house like muscle memory, steps in sync. The lights were low, painting everything in soft gold, their shadows trailing behind them like the past versions of themselves that had never quite reached this point—until now.

By the time they reached the bathroom, the steam had already begun to bloom, curling around the mirror, warming the air. Austin turned the water on, then turned to look at her one more time—just to be sure.

She nodded. Just nodded.

They’d done this before, plenty of times. Showers full of shared laughter, slick skin, and teasing fingers. She’d made him squirm more than once, giggling as he tried to keep his cool while she touched him like it was nothing. A quick rinse would turn into thirty minutes and a cold towel because he'd had to finish himself once she slipped out the door with a smirk.

But this wasn’t that.

When his hands slid the dress from her shoulders and her fingers tugged his shirt over his head, it wasn’t about performance or sex. It was about her. About worship. About letting her be adored without demand.

And if that meant standing in the shower with a damn hard-on, breathing through it while steam clung to her skin and she trusted him enough to be bare, inside and out?

He’d do it. A thousand times over.

The heat hit her first—the moment she stepped in, steam swirled around her, damp curls clinging to her neck, lashes beading with water. She stood under the spray for a second, letting it rush over her, head tilted back, arms loose at her sides like she was surrendering to something bigger than the water.

Austin stepped in behind her, quiet as ever, closing the glass door with a soft click. For a second, he didn’t touch her. He just looked at the droplets racing down her back, at the way the curves of her body shimmered beneath the low light, at the slight tremble in her shoulders; she probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

And then he reached for her.

His hands were warm and certain as they smoothed over her waist, slow and steady, thumbs brushing her hips like she was breakable. He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades, another at the base of her neck, and stayed there for a moment, forehead resting gently against her skin.

Luella let out a soft breath and leaned back into him, her head falling against his collarbone, body melting into his like she didn’t care where she ended and he began. His arms wrapped around her, holding her there, water cascading down both their bodies.

“I got you,” he murmured into her hair. “Always.”

Her hand reached back to touch his thigh, fingers tracing down until they found his calf, anchoring herself in him. It wasn’t frantic. There was no urgency. Just this—them—wrapped in heat and steam and something that felt dangerously close to forever.

He grabbed the body wash, poured it into her net sponge, and began to lather her skin. Starting at her shoulders, he worked in slow, reverent circles, down her arms, across her back. He didn’t rush. He didn’t grope. He loved. Every touch was a quiet vow. Every sweep of his hands said, You are safe with me.

Luella turned to face him, droplets clinging to her lashes, lips parted as if she had something to say—but instead, she just stepped closer, chest to chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him. Slow, deep, tongue flicking just enough to make him groan against her mouth.

His hands found her waist again. His heart was thundering.

“Are you still sure?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

She nodded, pressing her forehead to his. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Luella’s skin was slick beneath his hands, warm and soft and glowing under the golden light seeping through the bathroom. The steam blurred everything around them, but her—her, she was clear. She was real. Her eyes, half-lidded and heavy with want. Her lips, kiss-bitten. Her body, trembling just a little, but not from fear.

From feeling.

She moved against him deliberately now—slow glides of skin on skin, her hips brushing his, her breasts pressed to his chest, her hands tangled in the back of his hair again. He could feel her breath hitch each time their bodies aligned just right, every subtle rock of her hips making his head spin.

Austin’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t rush. He let her take the lead.

She leaned up, kissing along his neck—tongue, teeth, breath—until he was gripping her waist a little tighter just to steady himself. She could undo him so easily, and she knew it. But this wasn’t about control. It was about permission. About choosing each other.

Her hands slid down his back, then back up, tracing every line, every muscle, every freckle and scar she’d come to know by heart. When her lips found the edge of his jaw again, she whispered something into his skin—not loud enough for him to hear, but the feel of it made him shiver.

“I love you,” she said again, this time a little clearer. She said it like a confession, like a prayer.

Austin pulled back just enough to see her face, to really see her. Her eyes were glassy, full of unspoken things—of past hurt, of trust being rebuilt, of longing so deep it scared them both a little.

His hand came up to cradle her cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything, Lu.”

“I’m not trying to,” she breathed. “I just... I want this. I want you. And I want to give you all of me.”

Her voice cracked on the last part, and he kissed her before she could take it back—soft and reverent, but with the kind of heat that promised he heard her. That he understood.

When he lifted her gently by the waist, pressing her back against the cool tile, her legs wrapped around him like instinct. They stayed like that for a moment—foreheads touching, hearts thudding against each other’s ribs, water still streaming around them like a hush over the world.

Still clothed in tension, still holding onto control.

But not for long.

They were pressed so close now, water slipping between their bodies, heat rising in waves—but before Luella could get lost in it, the words started tumbling out.

“I, um…” she began, and Austin instantly stilled, looking down at her with soft, steady eyes.

She swallowed. “I just—before we do this… my first time wasn’t… it wasn’t great.” Her voice cracked, barely audible over the hum of water. “It wasn’t bad like trauma bad, but it was just… I don’t know. Cold. Boring. Forgettable.”

Austin’s hands stayed gentle on her waist, thumbs rubbing slow, grounding circles as she kept going.

“I didn’t even like the guy that much,” she said with a quiet laugh, embarrassed. “I just felt like I was supposed to be ready. So I did it. I let him. He didn’t even look at me—like, really look. Just got a condom, got it over with, didn’t even ask me if I liked it. And when it was done, he asked if I came like it was a formality.”

She paused, blinking quickly.

“I stared at the ceiling the whole time,” she whispered. “And I kept thinking… this can’t be what it’s supposed to feel like. This can’t be it.”

Austin’s jaw tightened, not from anger but from the ache of wanting to reach back in time and shield her from that version of herself. His voice, when it came, was low and certain.

“Then it wasn’t,” he said. “That wasn’t your first time.”

She looked up at him, lips parted, unsure.

“That doesn’t count,” he continued, brushing a hand over her soaked curls, tucking them behind her ear. “Let’s start over. Right now. If you want this… we’ll say this is your first time.”

He leaned in, kissed her temple. “Here. With me.”

By the time they stepped out of the shower, the air was thick with heat and something heavier—something sacred.

Austin wrapped a towel around Luella first, careful and slow, like she was fragile silk. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder before drying himself, never once taking his eyes off her. She stood there quiet, skin flushed from more than just the heat, her hands clutching the towel to her chest like it was armor, even though she didn’t feel the need to hide from him.

He reached for her hand, their fingers weaving together with ease.

In the bedroom, the lights were dim—just a soft bedside lamp casting everything in amber. The sheets had been turned down earlier, and the space smelled faintly of her perfume and something warmer—something that felt like them.

Luella sat at the edge of the bed first, towel still wrapped around her, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that betrayed her nerves. Austin didn’t crowd her. He knelt in front of her instead, resting his hands on her thighs.

“Last chance,” he murmured. “You can tell me no, and I’ll just hold you all night. Happily.”

She looked down at him—this beautiful man, kneeling for her like she was holy.

“I want this,” she whispered. “I want you.”

He smiled, eyes shining like he couldn’t believe she was real. Then, slowly, reverently, he kissed her knee. Then her thigh. Then up—so slowly she felt every single breath, every pause. When he stood, she rose with him, letting the towel fall from her shoulders.

She didn't flinch. She didn’t cover herself.

He looked at her like she was a gift.

They climbed into bed together without a word. No urgency. Just hands on skin, the kind of touch that felt like a lifetime of yeses. He laid her down like a prayer, like a promise. He kissed her collarbone, her shoulder, her chest—each one lingering like a vow.

And when he finally settled above her, eyes locked with hers, he whispered:

“This is your first time. Right now. With me.”

He pressed his lips to hers, slow and deliberate, his tongue gently meeting hers in a kiss that felt more like a conversation than anything rushed or greedy. Their mouths moved together in a rhythm that was all soft surrender—wet, warm, reverent.

His hands roamed her body with quiet hunger, fingers raking up her sides, across her hips, down the arch of her back. Wherever he touched, goosebumps followed, her body twitching in the softest ways under his hold—each reaction fueling his devotion.

Luella’s hands slid down his torso, exploring the planes of his chest, his ribs, his abdomen. Her nails grazed over his stomach, lightly scratching, just enough to make him groan into her mouth. His skin flexed beneath her touch, heat rippling through him like a tide he couldn’t fight—and didn’t want to.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, voice raw, husky. “You don’t even know.”

She blinked up at him, pupils blown wide, lips parted like she wanted to say something, but all that came out was a breathy whimper as his hands found her thighs and parted them gently.

Not possessive. Not hurried.

Just home.

Austin kissed the inside of her thighs like they were sacred—slow, wet presses of his mouth right where the soft met the sensitive, his breath hot against her skin. Luella was already trembling, her chest rising and falling fast, lips parted in anticipation, in disbelief that it was finally happening—and like this.

When his mouth finally met her, tongue flat and slow, she gasped so sharply she almost sat up.

He moaned against her, the sound low and guttural. Fuck, she tasted like honey and sin. Like everything he’d ever craved. He didn’t dive in greedily, no—he studied her. He licked her with intention, easing into her folds with long, slow strokes, letting his tongue swirl around her clit in lazy circles just to see how she responded.

“Just like that,” he murmured against her, voice almost drunk with need. “Let me take care of you, baby. You don’t gotta do a thing.”

Her back arched, one hand flying into his hair, fingers curling tight.

“That feel good?” he asked, dragging his tongue up again, eyes fluttering shut as he savored her. “Yeah? Been thinking about this… every time you walked around the apartment in those little shorts. Every time you kissed me and ran away.”

She whimpered, too breathless to respond. Her thighs twitched, closing in on his head, but he held them open, palms firm and reverent.

“Stay with me,” he said softly, kissing her clit once, twice. “I got you.”

And then—he brought his hand up.

Two fingers at first, slick with her arousal, circling her entrance slowly, gently. He didn’t push in yet. He waited, his mouth still worshipping her with slow, wet licks while his fingers teased her hole, watching the way her body reacted to even that.

“You're so fucking tight,” he whispered, his voice shaking with restraint. “Gotta open you up, baby. Gonna make it feel good.”

He pressed in—one finger at first. She tensed, breath catching, and he immediately kissed her thigh, his voice soft and low.

“Breathe, Lu,” he said, kissing the inside of her knee. “Just breathe for me. You're doin’ so good.”

When she relaxed, he added the second finger, curling just right as his mouth returned to her clit—licking, sucking, moaning against her like her body was his only religion.

She let out a strangled sound, eyes fluttering, hips bucking.

“Oh—my God—Austin.”

“There you go,” he breathed, tongue moving faster now, fingers scissoring gently as her walls started fluttering around them. “You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel you.”

She nodded, choked on a moan, and that was all he needed.

“Let go for me, baby,” he said, voice thick, hungry. “Don’t hold it. Come on. Let me feel you. I need it.”

She shattered.

Her thighs clamped around his head, hips rocking, cries spilling from her mouth as her first real orgasm tore through her. He didn’t stop. He worked her through it—licking and pumping as her body jerked and her hands fisted in the sheets, whispering, that’s it, that’s my girl, I got you, I got you.

When she finally collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, skin glowing, eyes glassy and stunned—he kissed his way up her body, slow and loving, until his mouth met hers again.

She could taste herself on his lips. Could feel how hard he was pressed against her thigh.

“You okay?” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

She laughed—soft, breathless, amazed. “No,” she said. “I think you broke me.”

He smiled, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. “Good. Now I’m gonna put you back together.”

Luella was still breathless, body slack and buzzing, but the moment Austin leaned in to kiss her—deep and slow, his hand cradling the side of her face—something stirred in her chest. Need. Gratitude. That ever-burning desire to show him what he meant to her, the way he’d just shown her.

So she pushed herself up, blinking through the afterglow, and whispered against his lips, “Can I take care of you now?”

Austin froze, his hand on her cheek going still. “Baby…”

“I want to,” she said, eyes locked on his. “I want to taste you.”

He swallowed hard, jaw flexing as he pulled back slightly to look at her—like he needed to see how sure she was. She held his gaze, steady and soft. And that’s all it took.

“Okay,” he murmured, voice rough now, laced with something darker, deeper. “Okay, come here.”

She pushed him back gently, watched as he settled against the pillows, then slid down the bed, trailing kisses down his chest, stomach, the V of muscle leading lower. Her fingers hooked in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down with slow intention.

And then she saw it.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting with a tiny breath of shock.

“Oh my God,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Austin laughed, low and strained, head tipping back against the pillow. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I was gonna warn you.”

Her fingers wrapped around the base gently, testing the weight of him, the sheer length and thickness. “You were just gonna let me find out?”

“I mean… you were already committed,” he said, barely holding back a groan when her thumb grazed the tip. “Figured I’d let you be brave.”

She gave him a look, then leaned down, kissing the head with soft lips, tongue flicking gently across the slit. He hissed through his teeth, muscles twitching.

“Take your time,” he said, voice deeper now, eyes heavy-lidded but watching her every move. “Just do what feels good. You don’t have to take all of it.”

Luella nodded, then slowly wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking gently while her hand stroked the base. His hips twitched—twitched—and she smiled around him.

“Fuck, Lu—” Austin groaned, one hand gripping the sheets beside him, the other threading through her curls but not pushing, just resting, grounding himself. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

She took a little more, relaxed her throat, tongue swirling, eyes fluttering when he moaned again. It was messy. She couldn’t take all of him, not yet. But she worked him with care, spit trailing down her fingers as she kept stroking what her mouth couldn’t hold.

“You feel so fucking good,” he muttered, hips trying not to buck. “You’re so pretty like this. Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

She pulled off for a moment, eyes wet, lips shiny, breath hot. “Tell me,” she whispered, stroking him slowly. “Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“You’re killing me,” he gasped, eyes closing for a second. “You’ve got me shaking, baby. I’m trying so hard not to come right now.”

Luella smiled like sin and slid her mouth back down.

And that was when his head fell back with a groan so raw it vibrated through her spine.

She was doing her best—more than her best.

Austin lay there, one arm thrown behind his head, the other buried in her curls, watching with parted lips and a look of awe painted all over his face. Luella was taking him as deep as she could, hand twisting around the base where her mouth couldn’t reach, her tongue working in slow, wet circles that had him breathing like he’d just run miles.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, thighs tensing under her. “That mouth… it’s not fair.”

He kept his hips still, fighting every instinct, letting her lead. But each time she pulled off to kiss the tip, suckle softly, then go back down—spit slicking him, her pretty lips swollen, breath coming in shallow gasps—it chipped away at his control.

Then she looked up at him.

Eyes glassy. Drool shining on her chin. Like she’d live between his thighs if he let her.

And he couldn’t take it.

“Lu,” he warned, voice low and ragged. “Baby… slow down. I’m not gonna last.”

But she didn’t stop. She just moaned around him, sucking harder, letting her hand work faster.

That did it.

He hissed, hand tightening in her curls—not pulling, just gripping, grounding, trying to stay tethered. “Shit—Luella. Stop. Baby, stop.”

She popped off of him with a gasp, blinking up like she wasn’t sure what she did wrong—but his eyes were dark now, locked on hers, chest rising fast.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, voice like gravel and silk all at once. “I need to feel you—all of you.”

Luella’s breath hitched. Her thighs instinctively pressed together, heat blooming low and deep. She nodded, lips still wet, cheeks flushed, and that was all he needed.

Austin sat up slowly, gently guiding her back onto the bed, kissing her with everything she made him feel—hunger, worship, love. His hands caressed her thighs, spreading them open again with reverence, eyes never leaving hers.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing her lip, then trailing down between her legs. “But now it’s my turn.”

Austin hovered above her, his hand still stroking gently between her thighs, keeping her open and relaxed as he kissed her slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that said you’re mine without ever needing the words.

Her breath was shaky now, the earlier confidence melting into nerves again. He felt it. Saw the little flicker of hesitation in her eyes. So he paused, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, letting his hand slide up to cradle her face.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You still with me?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

But it was quiet. Shaky.

He smiled, leaned in closer. “We’re not rushing. I got you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed her again—long and grounding—and then trailed his hand down to her thigh, gently lifting it.

“Let me figure out what feels good for you,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “We’ll try a few positions until your body tells me it’s right. No pressure. We stop the second you want to. Deal?”

“Deal,” she whispered, already breathless from his voice alone.

He started with her on her back, gently lifting her hips with a pillow beneath them. He eased between her legs, guiding himself to her entrance, sliding the tip through her folds slowly—so slowly—but the second he pressed forward, her breath caught and her body tensed.

He froze.

“Too much?” he asked instantly, his hand stroking her side, lips brushing her temple.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Just a little. I think the angle’s too deep.”

“Okay,” he said softly, kissing her jaw. “Let’s try something else.”

He gently pulled back and helped her up, repositioning her with her back against his chest, both of them seated now, her legs draped over his thighs. He kissed her shoulder, held her close, and tried again—slow, careful pressure, but she still winced.

“I feel… exposed like this,” she said, voice small.

Austin immediately pressed his forehead to her shoulder and whispered, “Okay. Scratch that. You’re in charge, baby. Always.”

Finally, he laid her down again and adjusted them until they were chest to chest, his knees framing her hips, her legs wrapped around his waist. Their foreheads touched. He held her hands in his.

“Like this?” he asked, voice low and patient. “This feel better? Not too deep, just enough to be close.”

She nodded. “Yeah. This... this feels safe.”

“Good,” he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. “I want you to look at me the whole time, okay? I want you to see how much I love you.”

Then, with slow, tender care, he began to ease inside her—inch by inch, stopping every time her breath shifted, kissing her through the stretch. His eyes never left hers.

And when he was fully seated, both of them breathless and trembling, he whispered:

“You’re doing so good for me, Luella. You’re perfect. You feel like heaven.”

Austin had her laid out beneath him, legs wrapped loosely around his waist, her hands trembling where they gripped his arms. He could feel her nerves vibrating just beneath her skin, even as her eyes begged him to keep going.

His cock was heavy in his hand, flushed and dripping, and as he lined up with her entrance, he kissed her softly—slow, grounding, reverent.

“I got you,” he murmured against her lips. “You just breathe, okay? We’re gonna take it one inch at a time.”

Luella nodded, eyes wide, breath shaky.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he whispered, sliding the head of his cock through her soaked folds, coating himself in her arousal. “Gotta go slow. Let your body open for me.”

He pushed forward—just the tip.

She gasped, her hips twitching slightly, walls clenching hard around him. Austin stilled immediately, one hand flying to her cheek, the other gripping her thigh gently.

“Hey, hey, don’t tense,” he soothed, brushing his thumb over her skin. “You’re doing so good, Lu. I know I’m big, but we’ll go slow. You’re gonna take all of me—just not all at once.”

He leaned down, forehead to hers. His voice dropped into something even softer, something made of silk and devotion.

“Just like that,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You feel that? That’s me stretching you. That’s your body learning me.”

He rocked his hips again—barely deeper—and she let out a shaky moan, gripping onto his forearms like her life depended on it.

“You okay?” he asked, reading her every twitch, every breath.

“Y-Yeah,” she panted. “It’s… big.”

“I know,” he groaned, sweat beading at his brow from how tight she was. “I feel it too, baby. You’re gripping me so good.”

He kissed her again—softly, slowly—then rolled his hips forward another inch, swallowing her whimper with his mouth.

“That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re taking me so well. Your pussy’s made for me. Say it, baby. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed, tears in her eyes from the stretch, the closeness, the overwhelming fullness. “I’m yours, Austin.”

He groaned low in his throat, pressing in just a little more, until she took half of him, her legs wrapped tighter around his waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’ll stay right here. You tell me when you’re ready for more.”

And he did. He stayed. Kissing her through every inch, whispering filth and softness, coaching her body to relax, praising her like she was the only girl on Earth.

“You’re gonna take all of me, baby,” he promised, voice thick with emotion and restraint. “And when you do, I swear—I’ll make it feel so fucking good you’ll forget anyone ever touched you before.”

Luella's nails dug into Austin’s shoulders, her breath coming in short, unsteady gasps as he rocked his hips forward—slow and steady, thick length pressing into her inch by inch like he had all the time in the world.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, voice low and ragged, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re doing so good for me. That’s it… let me in.”

Her jaw dropped on a gasp as her body clamped down around him, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Oh my God, Austin, you’re—fuck—so big, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he groaned, kissing her lips, then her cheek, then her jaw. “You’re takin’ me so well, Lu. You feel perfect. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

She whimpered, trying to breathe through the stretch. His cock dragged along every wall inside her, thick and unrelenting, her body twitching and fluttering with the effort of taking him.

“I feel so full,” she whispered, eyes glossy. “Like you’re in my stomach.”

“You are,” he breathed, voice thick with restraint as he looked down—and there it was: the faint swell under her belly where the head of his cock pressed from the inside.

“Right there,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over the bulge. “That’s me. You took every inch of me, baby. So. Fucking. Good.”

Her eyes rolled back, and she choked on a moan that turned into a sob.

“Too much?” he asked instantly, stilling.

She shook her head frantically. “No. It’s so good, I—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Austin’s entire soul cracked open at her voice—at how wrecked she sounded. At how desperately she wanted to take it, to take him.

He kissed her again, deeper now, as he started to move—long, slow strokes that made the bed creak beneath them.

“You feel like heaven,” he growled, thrusting into her just deep enough to make her legs lock tight around his waist. “God, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. You like that? You like bein’ full of me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, nails clawing at his back. “Yes, Austin—please, don’t stop talking. Please.”

He lost it—he absolutely lost it.

“Good girl,” he whispered, dragging his cock out halfway before slamming it back in, the bulge in her belly pressing up again. “My perfect girl. You’re doin’ so good for me, takin’ every inch of this cock like it’s yours. ‘Cause it is. It’s yours, Lu.”

She was falling apart now, tears slipping from her lashes, her body spasming beneath him. But every whimper made his praise sharper, more intense.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, kissing her hard. “You hear me? You’re fucking perfect. Tightest pussy I’ve ever felt. Best girl I’ve ever had. My girl.”

Luella sobbed into his mouth, her whole body trembling now as he reached between them, fingers rubbing fast, perfect circles on her clit.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “Look at me while you do it. I wanna see your face when you fall apart. I wanna feel you lose it.”

She came with a scream—loud and unfiltered—her body jerking beneath him, pussy clenching violently around his cock as her orgasm ripped through her like fire.

Austin lost it seconds later, slamming deep one final time, his moan loud and low as he spilled into her, filling her until the bulge in her belly throbbed with warmth.

Even then, he didn’t stop kissing her. Didn’t stop whispering.

“You’re mine. You’re everything, Lu. You were made for this. For me.”

And in that moment, neither of them knew where her body ended and his began.

They’d barely come down.

Luella was still trembling, chest flushed, slick between her thighs and lips kiss-swollen from how much she’d taken. Her body was humming—nerves fried and thighs aching, but beneath the exhaustion was want. That delicious, greedy ache that said more.

Austin had just finished pressing soft kisses down her stomach, murmuring “you did so good” like a mantra, when she gently pushed at his chest.

He blinked, brows furrowing. “What’s up, baby?”

She slid on top of him.

Austin went still. “Lu…”

“I wanna try it,” she said softly, voice hoarse. “I wanna ride you.”

He let out a soft groan, hands instinctively landing on her thighs as she straddled him, her slick core brushing up against his half-hard cock—which, at the slightest touch from her, started to throb back to life.

“You sure?” he asked, voice strained already. “You just took me for the first time and you wanna ride it now? Baby, I’m not gonna last.”

Luella smiled, that sweet-bratty mix that made his stomach clench. “I don’t need you to last.”

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, dragging his hands up her waist. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He let her guide him, one hand wrapped around his shaft as she lined him up again. She was so wet, still stretched, but the second the head pressed to her entrance, she faltered.

Her thighs shook.

Austin sat up instantly, strong arms circling her waist, forehead pressed to her collarbone.

“Take it slow,” he whispered, guiding her hips with his hands. “You don’t have to sit all the way. Just feel it.”

She nodded, biting her lip, and slowly began to sink down.

The stretch hit different this way—wider, deeper. Her breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders, and Austin felt it—felt her walls flutter around him like she was trying to pull him in and push him out at the same time.

“Fuck, fuck—Austin—”

“I got you,” he groaned, kissing up her neck. “You feel so good up there, baby. So fucking tight. Look at you, tryna ride this dick after I blew your back out.”

She whimpered, inching lower, thighs trembling against his.

“You want me that bad, huh?” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “You that cockdrunk already?”

She moaned in response, finally taking more of him, her hips grinding down just enough to make both of them shake.

Austin’s head dropped back. “Goddamn. Look at you—my girl on top, tryna take this big fuckin’ cock like a champ.”

His hands grabbed her ass, helping her move, slow little rolls that made her eyes flutter shut.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he breathed, kissing the sweat from her chest. “Even after everything—I’m still buried in this pussy. You’re a fuckin’ dream.”

She started bouncing—slow, unsteady, but committed.

And that’s when he lost it.

His grip tightened. His hips bucked up into her. Their moans tangled in the air, and the sound of her soaked cunt meeting his thighs was obscene.

“Austin—oh my God—” she gasped, eyes rolling back.

“I know, baby,” he groaned, voice breaking. “I know. You’re so fucking good to me. You wanna come on it again, huh? Wanna make a mess on this dick?”

She nodded frantically, breath hitching, body trembling.

“Then ride it,” he growled. “Be a good girl and take it.”

And she did. She rode him through tears and moans and shaking legs, until her thighs gave out and he had to grab her waist and fuck up into her, deep and messy and so much.

She came again, falling into his chest with a broken cry—and he followed, groaning into her neck, filling her a second time, so deep she could feel the warmth pulse inside her.

They didn’t speak right away. Just breathed. Held each other. Let their bodies buzz.

And then she whispered, “Next time… I wanna go faster.”

Austin laughed into her skin. “You’re insane.”

They stayed like that for a moment—Luella slumped against his chest, her skin slick with sweat and satisfaction, legs still loosely wrapped around his waist, her breath warm where it ghosted against his neck. Austin’s hands rubbed her back in slow, lazy circles, his lips brushing the crown of her head like she might drift away if he stopped touching her.

“Still with me, baby?” he whispered, voice hoarse and low.

She nodded with the tiniest, exhausted hum. “Mmhm. Barely.”

He smiled and kissed her temple.

“Okay, angel. Gonna pull out now, alright? Real slow.”

She whined at that—soft and broken, her walls still fluttering around him. But she nodded again.

Austin kissed her once more and gently gripped her hips, steadying her.

The moment he began to slide out, her body trembled—tiny aftershocks twitching through her thighs as he drew back, inch by inch. His cock was still thick and sensitive, glistening as it finally slipped free, her slick mixed with his cum dripping out of her in slow, sticky strings.

“Fuck,” he breathed, barely able to keep it together. “You’re so full, baby.”

Luella whimpered, hiding her face in his neck. “M’sore already…”

“I know,” he whispered, stroking her back. “You were perfect. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He shifted carefully, cradling her against his chest as he stood. She clung to him, boneless and sleepy, arms looped around his neck while he carried her through the soft dark of their bedroom, straight into the warm bathroom.

He’d already turned the lights low—just enough to see, golden and flickering like candlelight.

He set her down on the edge of the tub and turned on the water, checking the temperature with practiced care before pouring in a few drops of lavender oil. Steam rose slowly. The scent bloomed in the air, calming, floral, safe.

Once the tub was full enough, he helped her step in. She eased down into the water with a soft gasp, muscles relaxing instantly.

But she didn’t even have to ask.

Austin slid in right behind her, arms coming around her waist as she settled against his chest.

“Better?” he murmured, his voice softer than ever.

Luella nodded, sighing as his hands began to stroke over her hips, her thighs, her belly with featherlight touch.

He kissed her shoulder. “You were so good for me, Lu. So fucking brave.”

She melted into him.

“I love you,” she mumbled, voice sleepy and small.

“I love you more,” he whispered, nuzzling into her curls. “And I’m gonna take care of you. Always.”

They stayed there for what felt like hours—bodies bare, hearts soft, the water wrapping around them like a second skin.

And when he washed between her legs, delicate and tender, whispering little apologies every time she flinched from soreness?

She realized no orgasm in the world could compare to how this man made her feel when he simply loved her right.

The water had gone lukewarm by the time Austin helped Luella out of the tub, arms steady as he wrapped her in a plush towel, pressing a kiss to her temple as she wobbled on her feet.

“Got you,” he murmured. “Lean on me.”

She did.

Back in the bedroom, the sheets were freshly changed—he’d done it earlier, anticipating this moment. The air was cool, the lighting warm, and everything smelled like vanilla and eucalyptus.

He sat her gently on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her again, towel still around her body, the ends damp and clinging to her thighs.

“Stay right here,” he said, standing long enough to grab her lotion and the oversized tee she always stole from him. The one that hung past her knees and smelled like him even after four washes.

She watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like every second away from his hands felt too long.

Then he knelt again, easing the towel open just enough to rub lotion gently into her skin—starting with her thighs, then her hips, her belly, her arms. Every touch was delicate. Reverent. His thumbs kneaded the backs of her thighs, his palms smoothing over the curve of her ass, not with hunger—but care.

“You okay?” he whispered, glancing up.

She nodded, quiet. “Sore. But… good sore.”

He grinned, kissed the inside of her knee. “That’s my girl.”

Once she was fully lotioned and glowing, he helped her slip into the big t-shirt, pulling it down over her head, letting her arms slide through like she was something breakable and precious.

Then he lifted the covers and tucked her in—yes, tucked her in—before sliding into bed beside her, pulling her into his chest like she belonged there.

She did.

One of her legs slipped between his. Her cheek rested on his chest, where his heartbeat thudded slow and steady under her ear.

He kissed her forehead.

“Need anything else?” he asked softly, hand drawing lazy circles on her hip.

She mumbled something against his skin. He caught only pieces.

“Water… maybe…” “…one more kiss…”

Austin smiled and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, helping her sip before setting it down and pulling her close again., and putting her bonnet over her hair. Then he kissed her. Just once. Soft. Final.

“I’m never letting you go,” he whispered into her hair.

Luella barely whispered back. “You better not.”

[sisyphus-hye]

Sieun's Slave

Tags- Feet, Foot Worship, Femdom Sieun, slight Findom too

You come home late, the marble floors of your penthouse echoing with the sound of your shoes and exhaustion. The weight of the day slips off your shoulders the moment you see her—Sieun, lounging like a spoiled empress on your new, leather couch she forced you to buy, phone in hand, legs crossed, still in her dance gear.

She doesn't look up.

"Welcome home my ATM Piggy," she says in a demeaning, yet insanely attractive tone that makes you hard every time. "Assume the position," she says flatly. "Now."

You obey without hesitation, like a well-trained dog she taught you to be. You don't care that your thousand dollar suit is touching the dirty floor, as you drop to your back with your head aligned at the base of the couch.

Sieun finally shifts, casting a slow glance down at you, lips curled into a faint smirk. "Good boy. I hope my little piggy has been getting himself ready for this cause the company has been working us like no tomorrow with the dances and I must say that today was just awful," Sieun said in a mocking tone. "We were running through the choreography for what felt like hours in that hot practice room. It made my feet sweat like nothing I've ever seen before."

She reaches down, untying her sneakers lazily—the same ones she’s worn through six hours of choreography. Your heart races, you'd never tell her but you've been waiting for this ever since you got the text from her saying that that was a choreography day. The moment her foot slips free, the dense, humid scent hits your nose. Salty, raw, unmistakably her. Your body tenses.

Without a word, she presses her bare, sweaty foot against your face. Toes first, then the ball, grinding slow circles into your skin like she’s marking territory.

"Mmm, they’re disgusting today," she murmurs, almost playfully. "You should thank me. Most fanboys would kill to be in this position, but I chose you my little footslut. You get to sniff and clean these feet every day while I get to spend your money, it's a perfect trade-off, in my opinion."

The other foot joins—hot, damp, the musk soaked deep from hours in tight socks and relentless movement. She lets them rest fully on your face now, your nose trapped in her arch, every inhale a test of devotion.

"You wanted to serve a goddess, didn’t you?" she whispers, gently tapping her big toe against your lips. "This is what you’re good for. This is your purpose."

The TV plays in the background, but her scent, her warmth, her command—they drown out everything else. And as she leans back, wiggling her toes contentedly against your mouth, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Now don’t make any noise. I need a footstool while I scroll through Dior's new arrivals."

[anakinstwinklebunny]

whats sam and vinnie‘s relationship like when vinnie talks properly? Like when he’s 4 maybe 5

Hands down Vinnie talk constantly, with this high and excited voice, words running together in one long, breathless sentences. Sam of course would be always tired. No matter the amount of sleep he'd gotten. But i strongly believe Sam's also so pathetically soft for his kid, it's disgusting (for his friends). Vinnie will be sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, cheeks all smushed between his hands, swinging his little feet and just rambling about everything-the bugs he saw outside, why the sky's blue, whether dinosaurs liked peanut butter-and Sam's standing there trying to look unimpressed while making him a PB&J.. his eyes keep going all soft and tired and fond because Vinnie's little voice is just...God.

At night I think it'd be worse.. Vinnie's got this thing where he has to debrief before bed, okay? Like, he's gotta lay there all tucked in, eyes wide and bright, and whisper-tell Sam about every single thing that happened that day--who he saw at preschool, what snack he had, why the neighbor's cat is probably an alien. Sam would just lay beside him, looking at the ceiling and just mumbling back; "That so?" and "S'not how that works, dude," but he would never actually tell Vinnie to stop. Sam would also shamelessly wrap his arm around his lil guy and just let him cuddle to his side, cus at the end of the day, none made Sam Monroe this soft like Vinnie did.

Then there are the soft moments, okay? Like, when Vinnie's barely awake, all sleepy and his voice gets real quiet and he mumbles all lisped and tired, "Night, Daddy. Love you."

There's no 'Sammy' or 'Thammy' anymore. Not after Sam gently insisted vinnie would call him «dad». Yet still, it aches in Sam's chest in this painful way, as if his own heart was hurting. Because that only means Vinnie gets bigger, older, and..Sam won't be needed like he once was..

He mutters a gruff, "Yeah, yeah, love you too, Little Man," but his voice cracks a little, and his fingers brush all soft through Vinnie's messy curls because he can't not.

I dont want to paint vinnie as a perfect baby, cus none kid is perfect really, so there are tantrums. Because obviously Vinnie's got even a lil bit of Sam's attitude, right? All pouty lips and furrowed brows and hands on his hips like he's a full-grown adult when Sam tells him it's bedtime.

He'll stomp one tiny foot, cheeks flushed and brows all scrunched up, voice pitching high and offended-"You're the meanest, daddy!"-and Sam's gotta turn away real quick because his lips are twitching and he can't let Vinnie see him laugh.

But like-not even ten minutes later, Vinnie's all sniffling and teary-eyed, dragging Bobo (the stuffed bear) by one arm, curling tiny fists into Sam's flannel with a wobbly, "M'sorry, Daddy."

And Sam's heart just shatters. Cus at the end of the day, even if vinnie has tantrums, he is his ray of sunshine sweetheart baby. He scoops Vinnie right up, presses his face into his soft baby curls, mumbles all gruff and cracked, "S'alright, Little Man. You're good. But next time, we gotta talk it out, alright? Like, you know, to have healthy relationship..or..just so we could have a normal talk without you doing all these big acts, okay?" Sam obviously would still cringe after using «healthy relationship» and «talk it out» in one sentence, but...thats what the book 'how to raise a toddler; communication, diet, issues at hand' said..and yes, he still reads those. He has to keep on truck (also he just has this need to be the best dad for vinnie and is absolutely scared of failing)

And they stay like that, Vinnie clinging tight with his face smushed into Sam's neck, babbling muffled apologies while Sam's chest aches and his fingers stroke mindless circles into Vinnie's tiny back.

So in general, I think Sam would be pretty mature in his dad-role..or at least will try to. But i believe they'd have deep trust in themselves, and they'd just be the duo. Dad and son. Also Sam kind of would treat Vinnie as his bestie...cus he wants to be best friends with vinnie..in a way that dad can be

[bullet-prooflove]

A Reckoning: Nicholas Hayes x Reader (feat: Jason Crouse - The Good Wife)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @arieltwvdtohamflash @appeltaartglitter @foxfables @spooky-librarian-ghost

Summary: You turn to private investigator Jason Crouse after allegations regarding your ex-husband surface.

Companion piece to:

Nick - You can't live with him and you can't live without him.

Maybe Next Time - Nick begins to have a change a heart.

You’re in Indiana when you get the anonymous email about what Nick’s been up to in Chicago. It comes from a randomised address, a lot of letters, a lot of numbers.

Thought you should know, the message reads with a link to a dropbox.

You open it up and it takes you a minute to understand what you’re reading.

It’s a sexual harassment lawsuit that’s been launched against your ex-husband by one of his med students. You scan through it and your blood runs cold because the things he’s alleged to have said, to have done. They are 100% Nick Hayes.

You read the documentation again and your heart sinks because you know which way this case is going, you’ve seen it before when it comes to men in positions of power. Nick is going to drag this poor kid through the mud and come out better for it. The complainant will probably be branded as ‘difficult’ to work with and end up being bullied out of her career.

This kind of shit it pisses you off, especially when it’s something that’s been going on right under your nose.

You think back to all your previous interactions since the divorce. Him turning up at the same places that you are, the lingering touches after a few drinks, how he knew all the right words to say to get you back into bed. All of them little ways of keeping you under his thumb so he can threaten his victims with his own lawsuit if they told anyone. That’s what he did according to the documentation, used your name to invoke fear.

Your hand is shaking when you pick up your phone to dial the number of the man just down the hall. The firm you work for has several in house private investigators and you’ve been friends with Jason Crouse for long enough to trust him with something of this magnitude.

“What happened?” He asks, his expression full of concern when you open the door to your hotel room. He’s dressed in grey jogging bottoms that ride low on his hips and a faded blue New Jersey Devils t-shirt.

You don’t speak, you just point at the laptop and he removes his black rimmed glasses from where they’re hooked on the collar, placing them on his features. He sits down at the computer to read, a lock of his dark hair falling across his forehead.

“They’re gonna dismiss the complaint.” He says finally, his hazel eyes flickering up to meet yours over the screen. “Why did they send it to you?”

“We’ve been hooking up.” You tell him frankly, rubbing your hands over your exhausted features. “We kept running into each other at the same places every time I was in Chicago.”

Jason’s jaw tenses, his dark brows furrowing into a frown as he takes in this new information. He knows your history, your son, Nick, all of it. He understands the connection there, the nostalgia of it.

“Can I see your phone?” Jason asks you holding out his palm.  You pick up the device, entering your passcode, the date of your son’s birthday before handing it to him. His mouth sets in a grim line as he studies the apps, one in particular that’s hidden under the calculator folder. “There’s tracking software on this, you want me to get rid of it?”

You aren’t surprised, things started to slot into place just before you called Jason. You shake your head as he hands back the phone. “If we do, he’ll know there’s something up and I don’t want him to get an inkling that I know about this.”

“Gracie.” Jason says, his New Jersey accent thickening as he drawls your name. His large hands encompass yours, gentle and reassuring. “Are you in danger from him?”

“No, he’s not violent. Just a manipulative asshole.” You say softly as his thumb gently traces circles across the back of your hand. “I need you to look into this this for me. I want you to gather as much evidence as possible and make sure it ends up in the hands of Sharon Goodwin.”

Judging from the practised way Nick targeted that girl, you can bet there’s more. It was probably going on before the divorce, even before your son’s death. That thought, it sickens you because it makes you glad your child isn’t alive to see this version of his father, to discover how much of a predator he really is.

“You want a reckoning.” Jason says, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a feral smile as he meets your gaze.

“Yes.” You say forcefully. “I want to see the bastard bleed.”

[optimisticgrey]

The Hour of Need

summary: Gale decides it is time.

author's note: TIL story trading is a thing, so here is a one shot (pun intended) for the lovely @tillysketch

Content warning: soft Dom Gale, p in v, inappropriate use of Mage Hand, breeding/pregnancy kink, slightly humiliating dirty talk. MDNI.

taglist: @faerybella219 @whiskeyskin

word count: 1,4k

AO3 Link

“It’s time, my love.”

Clover glances up from her book, the pages bathed in the soft spill of golden light. Sunset has not yet come, but the balcony and library glow warmly under the lingering sun. Gale stands in the doorway, the deep blue of his robe falling loose around his frame, his eyes dark with promise. There’s a tilt to his mouth. A smirk, yes, but tempered by the weight of something deeper. His head inclines slightly toward the bedroom.

“Come,” he says. It is not a question. There’s a pull beneath the silk of his voice that coils low in her belly and tightens.

“Gale?” she asks, though she already knows. Her tail flicks with tension as she rises. He extends his hand, and when she places hers in his, he pulls her close and kisses her hard.

His mouth opens over hers, tongue claiming. She gasps against the force of it, but he only draws her tighter against him, lips unyielding.

“I wasn’t asking, my love,” he murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek, gaze sharpened by need. “It’s time. You’re ovulating.”

The words strike like a spell. Clover’s breath catches, her pulse a thrum beneath her skin. A flush begins at her chest, spreading in heated waves through her limbs.

With his arm secure around her waist, Gale leads her to the bedroom. She hesitates when she sees it—curtains drawn, the bed prepared, low light casting gentle shadows across the room. She’d thought they would do this after dinner. Gale had started to cook.

She chews her lip as he shuts the door behind them with a quiet click, a sense of finality in the gesture.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, his voice gentling. He brushes her hair aside and presses a series of soft kisses to the curve of her neck, each one anchoring her more deeply in the moment. His hands slide around her waist, guiding her toward the bed. “We agreed on this, remember?”

“I do, my love,” she breathes, her voice unsteady with anticipation. One hand finds the back of his neck, fingers curling into the familiar warmth of him.

“Good,” he growls softly, all restraint abandoned.

He grazes her throat with his teeth and kisses, heat blooming wherever his mouth lingers. His hands find the hem of her shirt and tug it free of her waistband.

Clover lets her eyes fall shut and leans into his touch, breath hitching as he undresses her. When the shirt comes off and he realizes she wears no bra, his chuckle is dark and full of promise.

He presses his mouth to her collarbone, hands anchoring her—one at her thigh, the other cupping her nape. Though his touch is careful, it speaks of purpose. She shivers and leans into him, to feel more connection, more of his touch.

But Gale grips her hip and gently coaxes her forward. Clovers hands drop onto the bed, tail curling on her said.

“Good girl,” Gale purrs. The praise sends a shiver through her, and a soft moan escapes without thought.

His hand drifts down her back, coaxing her body to respond, to open. And it does—legs parting instinctively under his touch. He cups her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples with exquisite care.

Clover’s voice trembles. “My love…”

“Yes, baby?” His tone is warm, teasing, soaked in arousal.

But Clover can only gasp when her pants are pulled down and she hears the familiar shift of fabric and knees, seconds before his tongue touches her.

“Gale!” she cries out, half in shock, half in desperation.

“Yes?” he echoes playfully, his voice low and steady just before his lips close around her clit. His tongue is deliberate, practiced, drawing slow, maddening circles—knowing her, playing her.

She moans, breathless, muscles tightening with each flick of his tongue.

“Gale…”

Two fingers slip into her, his tongue never stopping, and Gale hums with pleasure at her response. He curls his fingers perfectly, hitting that spot that makes her hips jerk.

“Every sound you make, my love,” he whispers breathlessly, fingers opening her fast and deep, “is a symphony composed just for me—raw, radiant, and entirely yours.”

The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside her mingle with her cries, and his own quiet laughter. It’s overwhelming. The sensation, the intimacy, the way he holds nothing back. There is no need to.

Gale pushes her to the brink, with precision, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He can feel the tension, the way her body starts to quake.

And just before she tips over the edge, he stops. Clover gasps, reeling, empty.

His lips, slick with her need, press reverent kisses along her thighs. His fingers tighten slightly around her hips.

“More, darling?”

Clover lets out a breathless laugh. “Yes. Please.” That pleading edge in her voice is exactly what he’s waiting for, and she offers it freely, gladly.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, voice soft as a caress, but firm with command. She blushes, humiliated and thrilled all at once, squirming slightly beneath his gaze.

“It’s alright,” Gale whispers as he stands. She hears the soft fall of his pants hitting the floor, the quiet scrape of fabric as he steps out of them. “You’re doing so well, my love. Now tell me—what do you want of me? What does your body ache for? What does your soul crave?”

“I need you to,” Clover’s voice shakes, her lashes flutter. “Use me. Breed me. Please, Gale…”

The soft slap of his hand on her cheek startles her, but the pain is light and the delight in his chuckle unmistakable. He pulls her upright and spins her into his arms in one smooth motion. His mouth claims hers with lust, their kiss searing. She can taste herself on his lips and tongue.

When they part, Gale’s expression is awed, devoted. He cups her face, smiling, eyes dark with want.

Clover reaches for him, his hard and delicious cock, but he catches her wrists and binds them overhead with a conjured Mage Hand. Clover gasps in surprise but grinning.

Gale meets her gaze again, waiting, eyes reaffirming consent.

She nods. Her entire body sings with anticipation.

He lays her back onto the bed, positioning her carefully. Her legs rise of their own volition to drape over his shoulders, one ankle hooking to pull him in.

Gale’s gaze is ravenous, hands gliding down her body in slow worship. He does not rush. He takes her in like a man starved - kissing, stroking, devouring every inch of her except the one place she needs him most.

Their lips meet again in a kiss that leaves her breathless. Tongues dancing, Gale smiles. When the head of his cock finally brushes against her, Clover trembles.

“Ask me again,” Gale whispers, hovering over her.

Blushing fiercely, Clover bites her lip. His smirk is maddening. He kisses her cheek, then her jaw, moving down to the sensitive curve of her neck.

“My wonderful wife…”

“Take me, Gale—”

“My heart…”

“Breed me, Gale—”

“My home…”

“Happily, my love,” he growls.

His arm slides beneath her, wrapping around her waist as he yanks her upwards and drives into her.

Clover’s head falls back, her entire body arching as the fullness consumes her, the shock of it stealing her breath. A long, needy moan tears from her throat, and Gale chuckles, already setting a brutal rhythm.

“Yes, my love,” he murmurs, teeth grazing her chest as he moves down between her breasts. “I’ll fill you. I’ll give you everything. Gods, just like that…deep…feral..….You’re exquisite….You’re mine…”

Clover can’t think. He fills her so completely, his cock plunging deep, her body singing from the friction, from the utter surrender. The slap of skin, the wet heat between them, his ragged moans, the gentle but firm grip, the Mage Hand holding her—it’s everything.

She’s so close, already trembling, chanting his name, begging for more and less at the same time. The Mage Hand holds her still as he fucks her, uses her, loves her.

“Yes, good girl... Come for me,” Gale whispers, voice rough with longing. “Come for me, my love…”

She arches, spine bowed, as the orgasm crashes through her like lightning. She screams his name, lost in the euphoria, in the sheer power that is him, inside of her.

Gale groans as he follows her, shuddering with each pulse, each wave. His body twitches, driving into her as he releases inside her.

It’s transcendent. Sacred. More than just sex. It is union, worship, a vow made in sweat and skin and breath.

Still panting, Gale kisses her again. Slowly, this time, gently cupping her face in both hands, smiling.

“I love you.”

This is part of my Smut Collection

[trazodone100mg]

I'm about to start reading the light novel version of The Summer Hikaru Died, and before I do I want to get a few questions and thoughts about the series and his character out of my head since it's been nagging me.

When did Hikaru die? I've been thinking about this recently. The start of the story takes place in the summer, six months after the 'real' Hikaru has already died. I'm going off of memory alone so the details are fuzzy, but I'd like to go back and reference the manga at some point to see if any dates are listed or months named. If the summer season spans late June to late September, that would mean Hikaru died in January to April, most likely in the winter, early spring at latest. If I remember right, it was rainy and cold when Yoshiki found Hikaru's body.

The 'summer' Hikaru died could be non-literal, as in Hikaru has been dead all this time, but the person Yoshiki knew didn't begin to fully disappear and be replaced in his heart until his suspicions were confirmed that day outside the convenience store. Hikaru didn't truly die until Yoshiki--the first person to find out--was allowed to properly grieve for him over the summer the story takes place. It gets philosophical from there; what is death, and what does it really mean to 'die' in a situation like this? Etc.

I would have a few questions if the story intends to take a more literal path, however, starting first and foremost with, "If Hikaru dies in the summer, does that mean Hikaru hasn't died yet?"

When we consider the title The Summer Hikaru Died, are we only considering the 'real' Hikaru?

I know the Japanese uses different characters in the spelling of the character's name to differentiate between the 'real' Hikaru and 'Hikaru', and Yoshiki does this in his head. Which spelling does the title of the series use? All genuine questions that may hold no water, but has been interesting to think about.

I also have pretty strong feelings about Hikaru's character, if you couldn't tell. And not just 'Hikaru', but the 'real' Hikaru and how his understated and very grounded characterization and emotions inform the 'Hikaru' we know. I think the author is extremely talented to be able to convey so much about him when we have been shown so little of him so far, and I think I understand him fairly well.

The most important thing to note right off the bat; I believe Yoshiki's feelings for the 'real' Hikaru were mutual. Which, I didn't at first! And Yoshiki certainly thought his feelings were completely one-sided as well. But after contemplating their characters and the dialogue, I've come to believe that their depth makes it easy to misinterpret.

I will once again insert a disclaimer that I am working on memory alone, so feel free to correct me at any point if I am mistaken, but my reasoning is as follows:

In the oneshot pilot that serves as a first draft of the series, 'Hikaru' explains when asked that he likes Yoshiki and believes his new body played a major role in influencing his feelings, since it already liked Yoshiki before he came to occupy it. As the 'real' Hikaru is dying, he regrets that he is unable to tell Yoshiki how he really feels, and asks the entity that possesses him to tell Yoshiki that he likes him, too. 'Hikaru' also mentions the curse; that the Indou's lovers are inevitably stolen away, that it has happened in the past between two men (which, on an only semi-related note, I have a ton of other questions I won't even touch here about the previous generation of Indous and Tsujinakas, and this may be entirely off-base but I can't shake the feeling there was...something similar going on between Yoshiki's emotionally distant father and Hikaru's dad, who was his best friend), and that the 'real' Hikaru saw himself reflected in that and was frightened by it.

But that was all a part of the first draft of the story, and we know not everything carried over to the story we know now. But I do believe we can still use it to gain some insight into the author's intent.

Yoshiki describes the 'real' Hikaru as mature and not oft to show big emotions. He wasn't the type to cry, but I have come to interpret his character as somewhat numbed and depressed, and the type to deflect with humor. Here's what I think did carry over; 'Hikaru' certainly likes Yoshiki (in his own, unique way), but in dialogue expresses that he's unsure if those feelings are entirely his own, and doesn't know what pieces belong to who between the two individuals known as Hikaru. The 'real' Hikaru was scared of his feelings for Yoshiki, for a few reasons. He could become a victim of the Indou family curse, he wouldn't be able to marry Yoshiki to prevent the curse befalling him given that they are both men (Hikaru's father makes it a point to tell him that the only way to stop the curse is to marry the one you love quickly), and growing up in the country, they have witnessed second-hand the consequences of not conforming in a town where everyone knows everyone's business (more than once, but specifically: "He's not sick, he's a homosexual.")

Hikaru's father was dead, he most likely felt that he needed to suppress his feelings of love for his best friend and had no way to move forward (my mind always goes back to how Hikaru, in a flashback at the start of vol. 1, turns away from Yoshiki when telling him he could probably find a girlfriend easily if he only tried), and carried the burden of performing whatever their family ritual entailed. He didn't commit suicide, but he died carelessly and only regretted that he would be leaving Yoshiki alone, as he was the only other person to truly understand how Yoshiki felt. And maybe his death was one means of protecting Yoshiki since he couldn't deny his feelings for him.

[mad-hunts]

starting off this sunday with a sad fact, and that is often whenever barton smells this cinnamon, but as a part of a specific blend with... something else he can't quite identify? barton is reminded of marcy because she used to wear a perfume that had that sort of scent to it.

[hanasnx]

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

[cumironi]

A BRAT IS ALL I WANT ！

TOJI FUSHIGURO has a breeding kink, and you’ll be damned if you give into it! but in reality, he just wants to start a family with you.

warning. husband! toji fushiguro, breeding kink, ōral ( m! receiving ), fingering, nipple-playing, dirty talk, pet names, name-calling.

wc. 4,5k | in this megumi wasn't born yet.

sure, you loved being toji fushiguro's wife. however, he sure knows how to get your nerves screaming. your birth control switched out for ibuprofen, holes in condoms, fucking you raw in your sleep even!

“c’mon baby.. i want a brat…”

toji drawls, so sexy and arrogant. you absolutely fume, straddling his lap as he gives you that big, scarred, smile. he has a breeding kink, and you’ll be damned if you give into it!

“let me fuck you raw again, baby…”

you glare at him defiantly, hands on your hips as you straddle his lap. “absolutely not, toji! we've been over this. i'm not ready for a kid right now.”

he just grins up at you cockily, large hands gripping your waist. “aw c'mon babe, don't be like that. you know you love feeling my cum flood your tight little pussy.” is thumbs rub circles on your lower belly. “and i know you'll look so damn hot all round and glowing with my baby growing inside you."

you scowl and try to wriggle off his lap but he holds you firmly in place, erection pressing insistently against your ass. “unhand me, you brute!” you demand haughtily, “i won't be bred against my will!”

his eyes gleam with mischief and lust, hands tightening around your waist as he chuckles deeply. “oh, but darling... i think you're enjoying this way more than you let on,” he teases, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

his fingers trail down towards your thighs, deftly slipping under the hem of your skirt to tease along your inner thigh. “besides, who said anything about doing it against your will? i just wanna see those pretty tits swell up with milk and feel our son kicking inside ya...”

with a swift movement, he flips you onto your back on the couch before you can react, pinning you beneath his heavy frame. his breath is warm against your neck as he whispers huskily, “now why don't we make ourselves comfortable while we discuss this further?”

“you're such an infuriating man!” you huff indignantly, squirming underneath him despite yourself. “fine then, if i have to do this, you better make it worth my while!”

your hands reach up to claw at his chest, nails digging into the hard muscle there as you push against him. the firmness of his body pressed against yours sends shivers through your spine. “show me what else you can do besides getting me pregnant...”

he smirks down at you, clearly pleased with your response. “is that so?” he murmurs seductively, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your lips.

his tongue slips past them in a dominant sweep that leaves no room for argument. one hand moves from your hip to cup one of your breasts over the fabric of your shirt, thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple through the material.

“you've got quite the mouth on you when you're angry,” he growls approvingly before pulling away slightly to admire his handiwork— the flush spreading across your cheeks and chest. “but don’t worry baby... i plan on showing you plenty tonight.”

your breath catches in your throat as he continues his assault on your senses. you arch up into his touch, nipples pebbling harder against the palm of his hand.

“arrogant bastard...” you gasp out between moans, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the heat pooling between your legs.

but it’s futile— every brush of his skin against yours sets fire to your veins and makes your heart race faster. the sight of him looming above you like this, so powerful yet so gentle at times... it drives you wild.

“just remember this next time you decide to play doctor without consent,” you manage to say through gritted teeth before biting down on your lip hard enough to taste blood. he chuckles darkly at your words, but doesn't stop what he's doing. instead, his other hand slides down from your waist to grip your thigh tightly.

“oh, i'll remember alright,” he promises huskily before leaning down to capture another kiss from you.

his free hand slips beneath your shirt to find bare skin, tracing up along your ribcage until he reaches your breast once more. this time though, there's no barrier between them— only soft flesh meeting rough fingertips.

“feel good?” he asks teasingly as he rolls your nipple between two fingers causing sparks to shoot straight down to your core. the sensation of his touch on your bare skin sends shockwaves through you. a low whimper escapes from deep within your throat as he teases your sensitive nipple.

“too good,” you admit breathlessly, tilting your head back against the cushioned couch back. your hips instinctively buck upwards seeking friction against nothing but air. the need for something— anything— to fill that empty ache gnawing at you becomes almost unbearable.

“just because i say yes doesn't mean you get to take advantage of me,” you pant out weakly, trying desperately to keep hold of whatever shred of control left over. but with each stroke of his fingers over your heated flesh, it feels less like a warning and more like an invitation into pleasureland.

a wicked grin spreads across his face at your words. “take advantage? me?” he questions mockingly, though there's a glint of amusement in his eyes.

slowly, deliberately, he starts to slide downwards— kissing and licking a path along your collarbone before dipping lower still until he reaches the swell of your breasts. “i think we both know who's really in charge here,” he rumbles against your skin, hot breath ghosting over one hardened peak, “and it ain't you.”

without warning, he takes the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard— tongue swirling around it torturously slow while his hand continues its ministrations on the other side.

a sharp cry tears itself from your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you. his mouth on your breast feels incredible; too much so for comfort. your fingers tangle into his hair, holding him close against you. despite everything you’ve been saying, it’s clear that you’re losing ground fast.

“don't stop...” you breathe out heavily, unable to deny him anymore.

even though part of you knows this isn't fair— that he's manipulating things to get exactly what he wants— another part relishes in being taken care of like this. and god help you, but it feels amazing.

“oh, fuck! just please...”

he hums in approval against your breast, the vibration sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. “that's it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before moving to lavish attention on its twin. “just let go and enjoy it. you know you love when i take charge.”

his hands roam your body possessively, palming your curves and squeezing roughly enough to leave marks. when he finally pulls back to gaze down at you, his expression is pure sin— dark eyes blazing with hunger and dominance.

“now, where were we?” he muses, voice dripping with promise as he starts to unbutton his shirt— revealing chiseled abs and a scattering of scars. “why don't you show me just how grateful you are for my attention?” he suggests, fingers already working to undo his belt buckle.

the sight of him undressing, even partially, sends a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. your breath hitches in anticipation as he leans closer again. “like this?” you ask, reaching out to trace a finger down his chest, feeling the ridges of muscles ripple beneath your touch.

your hand dips lower, brushing against the bulge straining against his pants. a smirk curls your lips at the feel of him throbbing beneath your fingertips. “or maybe like this?” you whisper suggestively, giving his hardness a firm squeeze through the fabric. his bulge feels heavy on your palm.

he lets out a low groan at your touch, hips jerking forward involuntarily as you fondle him through his pants. “that's it, baby,” he encourages, his own hands coming up to cup your breasts again, kneading them roughly. “get me nice and hard for you.”

with a swift motion, he frees himself from his trousers, allowing his thick cock to spring forth. it stands proud and erect, the tip glistening with pre-cum. “now why don't you put that clever mouth of yours to good use?” he commands, stroking himself slowly as he watches you with hungry eyes.

“lick it clean first, then take me deep inside that sweet little throat of yours. show me how much you want to be bred by me, my love.” the sight of his impressive erection makes your mouth water. with shaky hands, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his shaft. he's warm and solid in your grasp— a tangible proof of his arousal. you can't resist leaning in to lap at the precum beading at the tip, savoring the salty-sweet flavor.

leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss onto the head of his cock before taking it into your mouth. the salty-sweet flavor explodes on your tongue as you start to suck gently. “mmm, tastes good,” you murmur appreciatively before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and sucking gently.

as you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper into your warm, wet mouth with each pass, you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation. his musky scent fills your nostrils, and the weight of him on your tongue is intoxicating.

you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, determined to please him. your hand comes up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm as you work his shaft with increasing enthusiasm.

you bob your head back and forth, taking as much of him as possible into your warm cavernous space. each stroke sends tremors rippling through your body making it difficult to concentrate on anything else besides pleasing him right now.

a low, guttural moan escapes his lips as you take him deeper, the sound vibrating through you as you suck. his fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements.

“fucking hell, just like that,” he growls, thrusting shallowly into your mouth as you work him over, “such a good little cocksucker, aren't you?”

he rocks his hips in time with your bobbing head, fucking your face with increasing urgency. the sight of your lips stretched tight around his girth, the way your cheeks hollow with each suck, is almost too much to bear. “you're going to make me cum so hard down your throat if you keep this up,” he warns, voice strained with pleasure. “ready to swallow every drop like a good girl?” his pace quickens, driving himself deeper with each thrust.

your nose presses against his pubic bone as he hits the back of your throat, the pressure building with each thrust. tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you don't dare pull away.

“mmph!” you gag slightly as he bottoms out, but quickly recover, relaxing your throat to take him even deeper. the vibrations of your muffled moans add to the sensations as you continue to suck and lick at his shaft.

your free hand slides up his abdomen to tease his nipples, pinching and rolling them between your fingers as you service him. the dual stimulation of your mouth and hands pushes you closer to the edge, your own arousal building rapidly.

you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, watching his face contort in pleasure as you work him over. his hips buck wildly, driven by instinct alone as you manage to take him impossibly deep. the sight of those full lips wrapped tightly around his cock, trembling from effort and pleasure— it's all too much.

“oh fuck, right there...” he grunts out, eyes locked onto yours, “that's it, swallow every inch.”

with a final powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt in your throat. he holds there for a moment longer than necessary, letting you adjust before beginning to move again.

“gonna fill you up soon,” he whispers hoarsely, his control slipping as ecstasy floods through him. his strokes become erratic as he teeters on the brink of release.

“just... just a bit more, my l-love...”

the feeling of him pulsing against your tongue is exquisite, his impending climax evident in the way his cock throbs and twitches in your mouth. you double your efforts, sucking harder and faster as you sense his orgasm approaching.

your throat constricts around him rhythmically as you swallow, milking his shaft for all it's worth. drool escapes from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving breasts.

you can feel your own arousal building to a fever pitch, your core clenching around nothing as you imagine him filling you up with his seed. the thought alone nearly pushes you over the edge. but you hold off, determined to make him come first. you want to taste his essence, to feel him pulse and twitch in your mouth as he finds his release.

with a guttural groan, he slams home one last time, holding you in place as his cock erupts in your mouth. thick ropes of hot cum coat your tongue, flooding your senses with the intense flavor of his release.

“fuuuckkk!” he bellows, eyes rolling back in bliss as he rides out his orgasm. his grip on your hair tightens, not painful but insistent, keeping you still as he empties himself into your eager mouth. wave after wave of his seed pulses across your taste buds, each spurt a testament to his pleasure. finally, with a shuddering gasp, he stills, his cock softening slightly within the confines of your lips.

“swallow it all, baby,” he orders, voice husky with satisfaction, “every last drop belongs to you now.”

you eagerly swallow every last drop of his cum, savoring the taste as it coats your tongue and slips down your throat. his seed is potent and rich, leaving an unmistakable warmth spreading throughout your belly.

reluctantly releasing him from your mouth, you sit back on your heels, panting heavily. your lips are swollen and bruised from their vigorous use, a satisfied smile curving them despite the discomfort.

you reach up to wipe away some of the drool trickling down your chin, smearing it over your cleavage instead. looking up at him through half-lidded eyes filled with lust and satisfaction, “did i do okay?”

he looks down at you, chest heaving with each breath as he fights to regain his composure. a satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and disheveled.

“you always did, baby,” he replies, voice rough with residual pleasure, “best damn blowjob i've ever had.” he reaches out to run a finger along your jawline, tracing the path of a single tear that has managed to escape. his touch is surprisingly gentle given the intensity of what just transpired.

“but we're not done yet,“ he adds with a predatory gleam in his eye, “it's my turn to breed you now.” without waiting for further response, he pulls you towards him until you're straddling his lap once more. his cock is already starting to stir again, eager for another round. you wrap your arms around him, smiling so beautifully just like how you are, his sweet, sweet little wife.

feeling your arms encircle him, toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. his hands roam over your body, taking delight in the softness of your skin beneath his calloused palms.

“i'm glad you're mine,” he murmurs into your ear, nipping gently at the lobe, “i plan on making you feel very well taken care of.” his hands slide lower, pulling your hips flush against his growing erection. the sensation makes him groan in anticipation.

“so let's get started, shall we?”

you giggle softly, leaning in to press your lips to his in a tender kiss. as you pull back, you whisper, “i love being yours, toji. show me how much.” emboldened by your words, you begin to grind against him, your slick heat coating his length through the fabric of your underwear. the friction sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you, stoking the flames of desire even higher.

he captures your lips again in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. when you break apart, panting, he grips your hips firmly and begins to rock you against him, the motion deliberate and slow.

“that's it, ride my cock,” he commands, voice thick with need, “let me feel that sweet pussy of yours rubbing against me.” his hands slide under your shirt, palming your breasts roughly as he continues to grind you against his hardness. the sensation is maddening, each pass sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“fuck, you're soaked,” he growls, breaking the kiss to trail biting kisses down your neck, “can't wait to bury myself inside you and fill you up.”

you moan loudly, the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your clit driving you wild. you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his grasp as he tweaks and rolls your sensitive nipples. you can hardly stand it anymore; the need to have him inside you is overwhelming. you start to move faster against him, desperate for more contact.

“oh god, toji,” you whimper, looking into his eyes, “please, i need you... need you to fuck me.”

hearing your plea, toji's restraint snaps. with a swift movement, he stands up, carrying you effortlessly in his arms. he strides towards the bed, laying you down upon it with surprising gentleness considering the urgency of his actions.

“you'll get exactly what you ask for,” he promises, yanking down your panties with a rough tug. his gaze falls upon your glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

positioning himself between your thighs, he lines up his throbbing member at your entrance. without another word, he plunges deep inside you, stretching and filling you completely. “fucking perfect,” he grunts out, beginning to set a punishing pace. each thrust drives him deeper, hitting spots within you that make stars burst behind your eyelids.

a loud cry tears itself from your throat as he fills you entirely, stretching your walls deliciously. the sensation is overwhelming, causing your entire body to shake.

“oh, t-toji, baby..” you plead desperately, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him even deeper if possible. every stroke hits just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scratching lightly over his skin as you cling to him for support. you can't help but buck up to meet each of his powerful thrusts, desperate to take everything he offers.

he growls in approval, loving the way you claw at him as he pounds into your willing body. the sound of your cries and the sight of your breasts bouncing with each forceful thrust only spur him on.

“look at me,” he demands, his voice thick with lust, “want to see those pretty eyes when i breed you.” his hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you to him while he drives into you mercilessly. the slap of flesh echoes around the room, punctuating the symphony of moans and groans.

as he watches your face contort with pleasure, toji leans down to capture a nipple between his teeth, nibbling harshly before soothing it with a flick of his tongue. you obey instantly, meeting his gaze with wide, lust-filled eyes. the combination of his commanding presence and the raw pleasure he's giving you leaves you breathless.

“oh fuck, toji...” your voice trails off into a series of broken whimpers as he teases your nipple. the dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his teeth grazing your sensitive bud send shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

your inner walls clench around him involuntarily, trying to milk him for all he's worth. but it's clear that you're far from finished; there's still so much more you want from this dominant man.

feeling your walls flutter around him, toji can't hold back a satisfied grunt. he releases your breast with a pop, watching as a bead of blood appears where he'd been sucking. “good girl,” he praises, slapping your thigh lightly for emphasis, “keep coming for me.”

with renewed vigor, he starts slamming into you harder than before. each thrust goes deeper than the last, aimed directly at that spot inside you that makes stars dance across your vision. the bed creaks under their combined weight as he picks up speed, driven by pure instinct and carnal desire.

the sharp sting of pain from his bite quickly gives way to intense pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. your body bows off the mattress with each brutal thrust, helpless to resist the onslaught of sensation.

“o-oh god, oh god!“ you whimpering, your voice hoarse from crying out in ecstasy. your mind blanks, consumed solely by the primal urge to be filled, claimed, bred. you lock your ankles behind his back, using every ounce of strength to pull him impossibly deeper. your hips rise to meet his, creating a frenzied rhythm that threatens to shatter you completely.

the feeling of you wrapping yourself around him, urging him on, pushes roji closer to the edge. he feels your body tensing beneath him, signaling that you’re nearing your climax. “that's it,” he encourages through gritted teeth, “come for me, show me how much you love being fucked by your husband.”

his thrusts become erratic as he chases his own release. the thought of filling you with his seed fuels his arousal further. “going to breed you so good,” he vows before capturing your lips once more in a bruising kiss. the intensity of his words coupled with the relentless pace of his thrusts sends you spiraling into oblivion. a scream rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“i'm cumming!“ you cry out, your body convulsing around his cock as waves of pleasure rip through you. your juices coat his shaft, slickening the path for him to find his own release. your inner muscles clench and unclench rhythmically, milking him for all he’s worth. you can barely form coherent thoughts; all that remains is raw, animalistic pleasure.

feeling your pussy spasm around him triggers toji's own climax. with a guttural roar, he buries himself to the hilt and unleashes a torrent of hot semen deep inside you. “take it all, my wife,” he growls, his hips jerking erratically as he pumps you full of his essence. the sensation of his cum flooding your womb sends shivers down his spine.”

as the final pulses of his orgasm subside, toji collapses onto you, his heavy chest heaving against your own. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, marking you with gentle bites and whispers of praise. panting heavily, you bask in the afterglow of your intense coupling. feeling toji's warm seed fill you to the brim brings a sense of satisfaction and completion.

“handsome,” you murmur contentedly, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. embracing the intimacy of the moment, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he recovers. your bodies remain joined, the evidence of his claim still dripping from your entwined forms.

toji hums in pleasure at your touch, nuzzling deeper into your embrace. he presses a soft kiss to your pulse point, savoring the taste of your skin.

“mmm, you're beautiful too, the most beautiful,” he murmurs, slowly rolling you to your sides. even in this position, he remains buried inside you, his softening cock still nestled in your warmth. gently, he begins to rock against you, stirring the mix of his cum and your juices within your shared depths. he action sends pleasant tingles through both of you, prolonging the intimate connection.

“this was perfect,” he says, his voice low and satisfied, “just what we both needed.”

your body responds eagerly to his movements, each subtle shift reigniting the embers of pleasure within you. you let out a blissful sigh, enjoying the lazy rhythm you've fallen into. “it was...more than perfect,” you agree, a smile curving your lips despite the exhaustion settling in. the tender affection mixed with the lingering heat of your lovemaking leaves you feeling cherished and utterly fulfilled.

as the minutes stretch on, you find yourself reluctant to break away from this sweet, languid closeness. it's moments like these that make you realize just how deeply you adore your husband— in every way imaginable.

toji gazes at you adoringly, taking in the blissful expression on your face. he reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch feather-light and reverent.

“i love seeing you like this,” he confesses softly, “satisfied and happy in my arms.” he pauses, his expression turning thoughtful. “i think it's time we started planning our family, don't you? we could have a few more little ones running around, keeping us busy and on our toes.”

the suggestion is made with a playful glint in his eye, but there's an underlying seriousness to his words. toji wants to build a life filled with love, passion, and children— and he intends to start that process soon. at the mention of starting a family, your heart swells with joy. the idea of carrying another child conceived in such passionate, loving circumstances fills you with excitement.

“you know i've always wanted that,” you reply, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, “a house full of laughter and love...and maybe some mischief too, maybe later,”

the prospect of growing their family together stirs something deep within you. not just physical attraction, but emotional commitment— a bond forged not only between lovers but also parents-to-be. “but for now,” you continue, tracing idle patterns on his chest, “let's just enjoy this moment. our private paradise.”

hearing your agreement, toji smirks, his eyes sparkling with delight. he captures your wandering hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“a private paradise sounds ideal,” he agrees, nipping gently at your fingertips, “but i suppose we should get moving eventually.” despite his words, there's no urgency in his tone. Instead, he seems content to simply stay here with you— lost in each other's company until reality comes knocking.

“but first,” he adds, pulling you closer until your breasts press against his chest, “i need to make sure you're thoroughly satisfied.”

a soft chuckle escapes your lips at his declaration. the idea of being thoroughly satisfied by your husband is quite appealing indeed. “oh, i think i am,” you purr, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate the residual ache left by their earlier activities, “but if you insist...“

you arch your back slightly, pressing even harder against him. the sensation of his semi-hard member still nestled inside you sends delightful sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. “just one more round?” you tease, batting your eyelashes playfully.

toji's smirk widens at your teasing words, his dark eyes gleaming with lustful intent. he rolls you onto your back, positioning himself above you with a predatory grace.

“one more round it is then,” he declares, beginning to move again, leaning closer to kiss your forehead. his renewed thrusts are slow and deliberate, designed to draw out every last drop of pleasure from both of you.

each stroke sends jolts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. the combination of his weight pressing down on you and the steady rhythm of his hips driving into yours creates an intoxicating blend of sensations.

“and when we're done,” he promises huskily, “we'll start planning our future...together.”