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ja3yun · 5 months

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The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun

doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk! wc: 7.7k synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible masterlist | sunghoon a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!

p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.

You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.

The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.

Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful.

Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities.

Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.

Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence.

You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.

“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.

Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.

With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.

“Thank you!”

The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes.

You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.

"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?

Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries.

Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.

The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.

You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.

Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.

Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.

Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?

You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you.

The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.

Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.

Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.

With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.

After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them.

As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.

You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.

Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.

You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.

A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.

First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties.

With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.

A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.

Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion.

Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?

Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.

As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.

With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.

“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.

Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.

Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.

The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.

Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.

With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.

Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment.

“Thank you.”

Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.

As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.

Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.

Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.

Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.

With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?”

His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you.

Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.

Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.

"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.

Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.

“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"

Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”

As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."

"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.

The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.

Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.

You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.

“What?”

"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.

As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.

“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.

Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.

Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.

But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.

This is a doll, not a real person.

You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.

His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.

"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.

Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure.

"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.

He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.

However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.

However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.

"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable.

Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.

His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.

But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.

You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked.

With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.

Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.

And he looks so fuckable right now.

Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.

His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.

Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.

With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.

You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"

He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.

Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.

You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.

There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.

Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful.

His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.

Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.

With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling.

There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.

Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.

His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."

Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.

But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?

You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”

His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.

“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?”

Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.

“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."

The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again.

You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it.

As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.

With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.

You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.

And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.

Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.

Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.

You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."

Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”

Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.

He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.

You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.

His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.

“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.

You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.

“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.

Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another.

Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.

Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.

He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.

It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.

You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace.

The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.

Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.

“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time.

Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.

Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.

Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.

As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.

"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.

You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.

"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.

Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.

Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.

His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”

It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll.

With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.

You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.

“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.

This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #jake smut #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun smut #aj writes #enhypen fic #the doll house

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evie-sturns · 6 months

Text

Sorry - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you and matt have been bickering the whole day, but one thing that comes out of his mouth accidentally makes you cry.

contains: arguing, crying, comforting, fluff.

---------------└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘---------------

matt and i have spent the day out together, but hes been snapping at me for the smallest things. i've just brushed it off, i decided hes just tired and needs to get home.

"ready to go matt?" i ask, squeezing his hand as i heave myself up off the chairs in the mall.

"mhm.." matt hums, shutting off his phone and sitting up.

the loud chatter from crowds of people in the shopping center echos through my ears. matt walks ahead of me, i follow close behind as he walks through the double doors out into the parking lot.

he unlocks the car before letting himself in, shutting the car door behind him. "jesus" i mutter under my breath before opeing the passenger side and jumping in.

"so what should we get for dinner tonight?" i question, breaking the painfully loud silence.

"don't know" he replies quietly, his voice monotone.

"i could make us something?" i say, tapping my fingers on my leg as matt pulls out onto the street.

"sure." he responds with a slight nod of his head.

the rest of the car ride is silent, matt grips the steering wheel with both hands, taking sharp turns towards home.

"matt..?" i ask quietly,

"mhm" he mutters back,

"are you upset with me?" i say, my voice soft as i look directly on the road ahead.

"nope" matt sighs as he pulls into our garage.

i nod silently as he opens the door of the drivers side, he slams the door shut behind him and walking into the house. he doesnt even bother letting me out of the car, let alone leave the door to the house open.

i sit in the car for about a minute in silence, trying to think about what is actually pissing matt off today

i get out of the car and walk up the concrete stairs to our house, i approach the door to matt and i's bedroom, the door handle rattles before swinging open.

matt is sitting on his desk chair, scrolling on his phone. he doesn't even look up at me as i flop down on the bed.

i grab my airpods off our bedside table, accidentally knocking matts cup of coffee which has been marinating on the table for several hours.

the mug hits the wooden floor, the porcelain shattering and coffee painting the wooden planks.

i look up at matt, "shit-"

"can you actually fucking stop?" matt says, almost disgusted by me.

"you've been so annoying all day and i'm so sick of it. stop." he continues.

he stares directly into my eyes as those words exit his mouth.

i usually wouldn't cry if anyone said this to me, but today it feels so personal. they way hes been so uninterested in me, and now he says this to my face?

my eyes water as matt maintains eye contact, my bottom lip trembles as my throat feels like its practically closing in.

a loud sob exits my mouth as tears instantly start to stream down my face, my shoulders slouched and bouncing up and down as i stand infront of matt.

"you're being mean now matt" i say in between shaky breaths.

he stands in shock in front of me for a few seconds before grabbing me and pulling me into a passionately tight hug, he holds my head as i feel his hands shake slightly as he takes deep breaths.

after a few seconds i pull away from the hug "look at me, please" matt says, his voice soft as his mouth parts slightly.

i look up at him, my face drenched in tears. he bends over and picks me up, holding me up around his waist by my thighs.

he sits down on the bed with me, i'm sitting on his lap, almost straddling him as he sits back against the headboard.

"please don't cry, i promise i didn't mean to make you cry im so sorry-" matt rambles on, panic in his voice.

"i've been a proper dickhead today i don't know whats wrong with me i am so sorry"

i nod, he takes the sides of my face in his ringed hands, "i am so, so grateful to have you. i have been so tired recently and i've only been getting three or four hours of sleep a night because of nick, chris and is schedule for the past few weeks and its taken a toll on me"

"and its not your fault, nothing is okay?" he finishes, his eyes scanning my face for a reaction.

i nod "thank you", matt takes his hand and casually wipes the snot from under my nose.

"can you please give me a smile sweetheart?" he asks, his hands finally dropping slowly from the sides of my face down to my palms.

i wipe my eyes and give matt a somewhat ugly smile, matts face lights up "there she is" he smiles "gorgeous girl."

he taps my waist "do you want a shower?" he asks, its been a 'tradition' that matt and i have a shower together mosts nights.

"yeah" i smile warmly at matt, he sits up, picking me up off his lap and carrying me into his bathroom.

he sets me down on my feet and helps me get my clothes off, he follows, his clothes in a neat pile by the door.

i turn on the shower up to a high heat, the steam fogging the room.

matt steps in, "holy shit- i know i've been an asshole but do i deserve to be scolded alive- fuck." he laughs, his eyes scrunching and his wide grin plastered on his face.

"its nice!" i joke back, matt steps in again, trying to keep a straight face. "oh my god-" he whispers with a smile as he turns down the water temperature. "matt!!" i whine, slapping him lightly with a smirk "i had to" he says, reaching for the shampoo and squeezing it into his hand.

he rubs the shampoo into my hair, a comfortable silence fills the bathroom along with the sweet smell of strawberry shampoo.

suddenly matt breaks the silence,

"for the record, i did enjoy the mall with you earlier sweetheart, and i'm sorry i ruined it for you."

"awh matt, its okay i go to the mall every 2 days anyway." i coo back at him with a cheeky smile.

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

matts smile btw in the shower heat cause i thought it was cute

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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ceilidho · 8 months

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 4) part 1, part 2, part 3

You remember the lock turning on the door of another room.

Ice flooding your veins. Heart suddenly tripling in speed, flush against your breastbone, close to snapping your ribs and pumping right out. A man standing in front of the locked door, barring your only way out. Petrified, but not confused; it’d always been an inevitability, something you’d long been waiting to happen, but hoping beyond hope that maybe you’d skirt by it unscathed.

You’re in a bedroom, but you’re also in a study hundreds of miles away, cabinets along the walls filled with jade carvings and porcelain trinkets, bookcases filled with untouched first editions with the spines still stiff, a leather chair tucked into wide mahogany desk, and a grandfather clock ticking ominously in the corner. And you’re watching a man come into the room and lock the door, shutting you both inside.

There is a bust of the same man in the corner of the room. When you sink into the memory, your eyes drag there and hold.

“Honey? Honey, are you alright?”

You come back to yourself at the sound of another man’s voice. When you blink, the memory leeches out of the corners of your eyes and you find Price looking down at you with some concern, a slight furrow between his brows. You shudder out the memory until it’s wrung out, until you’re dry of it. Sweat cools on the back of your neck. There’s a tremble in your hand that you notice when you go to rub your forehead, a shake that even Price notices, taking your wrist and pulling it to his chest.

There is no bust in the corner of the room here. The man that locked the door holds your wrist tenderly to his chest and waits for you to answer, his lips still sloped down. The black spots fade from your vision one by one, panic retreating back into your bones. It leaves a too big hole inside of you.

You know it’s still within you. It slumbers in the marrow of your bones; it cowers in there, sometimes close enough to kiss or close enough to cradle your head and crack it against the nearest ledge.

“Honey?” he asks again. The deep tenor of his voice moves something back to life inside of you, as much as it pains you to admit. Even to yourself.

You blink up at him, only realizing how dry your mouth is when you croak out, “I’m—I’m alright. Apologies.”

He doesn’t seem much convinced. Perhaps he has a right to doubt your words. You can’t see the tormented thing staring back at him.

“I’ve given you a few too many frights today,” Price sighs, head dropping towards you, like drawing a curtain around the two of you. “Thought maybe you needed a bit of a push, but you’re not quite there, darling, are you?”

“Not where?” you ask, lost. “Where am I not?”

For once, he doesn’t answer, doesn’t try to force his vision into your head. It shocks you when he dips his head to press his lips against your forehead, lingering there for several moments. Breathing you in. You let him linger there, half-curious yourself, a softness suffusing into you like breath.

“Are you hungry enough to eat? Or straight to bed?”

His words give you a nervous thrill, but when you catch his eye, there’s nothing to read there. Absent of double meaning. He’s asking you if you’re hungry and if you’re wanting to eat.

“No.” You shake your head. “I’m still…well, I’ve had a bit of a cramp all afternoon. I don’t think I’m up to eating.”

“Not even tea or cake?”

The thought intrigues you, but not enough for your stomach to untwist. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

He hums against your forehead, then presses another kiss there, then a third on your temple, breathing out a puff of air that blows across your face and tickles your nose. “Not hungry for anything then,” he surmises, and you hear it there, the silvery flipside of an innuendo. You scrunch up your nose and flinch when he chuckles. “How about just a bath then? And then we’ll tuck in for the night.”

“That sounds nice. Do you, um…I could help if you want?"

“Already fetched the water earlier today. Wash tub’s downstairs. You can stay here or come down and wait until the water’s warm.”

Finally, he pulls back and puts some space between the two of you. Something buried deep in your chest clicks when he unlocks the door and steps out. You try not to look at it too hard.

You follow him downstairs, more out of habit than anything. With the water already fetched from the well and Price starting a fire to heat it up enough for a warm bath, there’s not much for you to do besides wait, but you join him downstairs anyway, taking the time to look around.

“Toothpowder, brushes, and mint are in the drawer under the sink if you need any,” Price tells you. You don’t bother with the mint, but you use the rest to clean your teeth in the bathroom sink, a bowl of water already waiting for you to help rinse your mouth. You rethink the mint afterwards, chewing on a couple of leaves to rid your mouth of the chalky aftertaste.

It takes awhile to heat up enough water for a bath, giving you time to peruse the rest of the house. After spending the bulk of your day locked up in his room, it’s nice to stretch your legs and move about. The rest of the house is fairly typical, barebones; Price heats up the water in a stone fireplace in the main room and at the other end of the house, you find the kitchen.

The crickets in the bushes out front are louder than you’ve ever heard them. For a moment, you stand alone by the front door, fingers twitching by your sides. It wouldn’t do you any good to run, but your feet feel quick now, light after hours of rest. You could bolt like an Appaloosas if you wanted to.

Then Price calls your name and you drift back to the other room.

Steam billows off the water in the metal tub. It’s only halfway filled, which makes you frown; you have no right to be picky after the days you’ve spent cleaning yourself with a damp washcloth over a porcelain bowl, but you can’t help thinking that it’ll hardly come up to your waist. Still, staring at the warm water makes your skin itch; you could practically kiss the bar of soap sitting on the floor next to the tub. If there wasn’t a man in the room, your dress would already be on the floor.

“Are you still waiting on more to heat up?” you ask, casting a glance at the fireplace where a small flame still burns. There isn’t a bucket of water hovering over it though, just a poker stowed back in its place.

“Any more and I’ll be mopping up water for the rest of the night,” he huffs. “That’s more than enough for us.”

“Us?” you repeat.

It only makes sense when you turn around and stare wide-eyed at Price as he untucks his shirt and starts at the buttons, each one slipped through the hole exposing a new inch of chest covered in dark hair. You make a noise at the back of your throat, half-aghast. The other half, indeterminate. If your feet weren’t glued to the floor, you’d stop him or grab his hands. Instead, you watch mutely as he pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his pants, mouth drying at each new slab of muscle revealed.

You swallow reflexively when his pants pool around his ankles on the floor. You catch a glimpse of thick thighs covered in dark hair and something heavy dangling between his legs before you avert your eyes, staring straight up at the ceiling. Sure to give yourself a kink in your neck, but perhaps forgivable this time.

“Us?” It comes out squeaky this time, high and tight in your throat. Price laughs.

When he moves towards you, you can hardly so much as lift a finger to keep him at bay. Your body feels tethered in place, sluggish and inert. The world moves around you instead, doubly so when Price fits his hands at your waist and twists you to face away from him.

Big hands ruck up the fabric of your dress, slowly pulling it over your head. You lift your arms for him on command, the whole time baffled by how little struggle you put up. You imagine him telling that deputy of his what an obedient little bride he’s found for himself.

“Us,” Price confirms, emphasizing the word the same way you did. “We’d be here all night if we took turns. Water’d be ice cold by then too. You’d rather I freeze my nethers off?” You open your mouth to reply but he cuts you off. “Don’t answer that.”

That pulls a real giggle from your chest, shocking you both. Breath sits like a bubble in your chest. You feel his fingers still at the ties of your corset before pulling it through.

He loosens each lace slowly, giving each a gentle pull. It’s nerve wracking, nail-biting tedium, the corset gradually giving way to his touch and drooping into your waist. You let him undo each of the hooks and unwrap it from your torso before pulling off your chemise underneath, flesh chilling in the open air. Even stationed behind you, you feel his stare like a heavy, weighted thing. His fingertips trace over the naked skin of your back, looping small circles just for the pleasure of touching your skin.

Gooseflesh runs down the length of your arms, shivering from his touch as much as the cool air. You tell yourself that it means nothing just to put it all away.

“Alright, let’s get you washed up,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat. “Been awhile since you had a warm bath, I bet.”

You turn part way around, watching him from the corner of your eye. If only he knew.

Price gets in the tub first and it’s immediately obvious to you why he hardly filled the tub. His body takes up so much room that you frown when you realize that he expects you to get in next. It’s one of the bigger tubs you’ve ever bathed in and yet he still has to bend his knees. The sigh he lets out after relaxing against the back of the tub makes you shiver.

When he glances up at you swelteringly, you hear the evocation unspoken.

“If you’d just give me a minute,” you snap.

“Darlin’.”

The note of warning in his voice finally tips you over the edge of hesitancy where you’d been precariously balanced.

The water is still warm when you dip a foot tentatively in. It’s easier to ignore the indulgent smile on Price’s face than engage with it, sure you’d shout yourself hoarse if you finally let your composure crack.

You think it vaguely humiliating to have to turn around in front of Price in the tub in order to lower yourself to sit. He doesn’t touch you yet, but there’s no way to avoid the weight of his eyes on your backside. It’s not something you’ve thought about much before. A man’s hands on you, stripped bare for him, lowering yourself into a hot bath with him.

You peek over your shoulder. “Do you ever stop staring?”

A pointless question. He doesn’t even meet your eye to respond, just stares at the curve of your ass with heavy lidded eyes, the faintest pink hue high on his cheeks. He hums instead. You purse your lips.

The water sloshes up the side of the tub when he pulls you down abruptly, settling your back against his chest. You stiffen in the cradle of his arms and chest, acutely aware of every point of your body pressed into his. When Price sighs now, it reverberates through your back and chest.

“Why does it feel like you’ve been run against a whetstone?” he asks. The sound drips heavy from his lips because the room is silent apart from him, apart from the gentle lapping of the bath water against the sides of the tub and the water trickling from the washcloth when he lifts it out of the water and gives it a wring.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, frowning.

“You’re all sharp, all hard edges. If I’m not careful, you might run me through.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you married me,” you huff.

That gets another laugh out of him, raising your hackles. It’s hard to differentiate between ridicule and endearment. You opt for the former to guard yourself, to keep yourself safe.

“I’ll take my chances.”

You can’t think of a way to respond to that. It’s loaded in an uncomfortable way. It’s easier to just let it pass into silence. Price doesn’t seem anxious for you to respond anyway, thankfully, instead reaching out of the tub to grab the bar of soap still on the floor. The movement pushes his pelvis into you, the length between his legs pressing against the small of your back. You jolt forward only for him to wrap an arm around your waist and haul you back. More water splashes over the rim.

“Christ, you’re skittish,” he gripes.

“What do you expect me to do?” You squirm in his hold, which only makes his arm constrict tighter around you, drawing you even closer.

“Sit there and let me wash you, for one. What’s got you all riled up?”

“You know exactly what,” you say, face hot when you feel it press against you again.

“My—”

“Yes, that,” you hiss, digging your nails into his forearm.

“Squirming around isn’t gonna make it go away,” Price teases, squeezing once before finally letting you go. You scoot forward as much as he allows, but it’s for naught; you can feel it press against you still.

In the brief silence, Price lathers up the cloth until it froths, then puts the bar of soap back down on the floor. You almost stop him to say that you can wash yourself, but he starts on your arms before you’re so much as able to part your lips.

Your nipples bead when he drags the washcloth over your chest. The material is coarse, almost abrasive, and when you wince, Price murmurs a soft apology into your ear. He’s softer when he pulls your legs one after the other from the water and sets your foot on the rim of the tub, dragging the cloth over your calves and up the inside of your thighs. You shake when his hand disappears under the water, biting your lip until it hurts.

You sit with the silence instead of electing to fill it. It’s better that way anyway; words can unravel so many interiorities that long for stasis. And what has the man at your back done to earn your words anyway, besides lock you up and throw away the key?

You’ll figure your way out eventually. It’s only a matter of time.

His own washup is perfunctory, performed only to get it over with. None of the affection reserved for washing you. He barely makes you lean forward before dragging the cloth haphazardly across his chest, getting a few good scrubs in before calling it a day.

“I can’t imagine why you’d spend so much time filling a bath just to wash up in five minutes,” you say, peering over your shoulder at him. Expressly not focusing on the pillowy muscles of his chest or the dark, wet hair now flush with his skin.

“Haven’t used the tub in months,” he grunts, dunking the cloth in the bath water until it comes out clean. He wrings it dry before hanging it over the rim. “There’s a creek out back, ‘bout a ten minute walk from here.”

You frown. “You usually bathe in a creek?”

“What’s the point in spending time heating up enough water for a bath when there’s a perfectly good creek nearby? Water’s water.”

“You did it for me.”

“That’s different.”

You roll your eyes. “It shouldn’t be.”

“You like to fuss over nothing, huh?” Price remarks. Again, it’s said so earnestly that it makes your skin prickle.

When you stand, the water rushes off you in a wave, leaving you slick and cooling rapidly in the air. Your teeth clatter until he steps out of the tub to fetch you a towel, wrapping you up in it and patting you dry. You get a bit dizzy when he kneels before you to dry your legs, swaying on your feet. Under your breath, you mumble something like, you don’t have to.

He ignores you. For reasons unbeknownst to you, you let it go.

Your bare feet pick up stray dust and debris on your way back up the stairs alone. You wipe them off on the mat at the door before changing into your shift while Price empties the tub downstairs. The oil lamp on the bedside table illuminates most of the room when you light the wick and delicately put the chimney back in place, apart from the elongated shadows that hang from the corners like spiderwebs.

The bed looks different when you know you’re meant to share it. You try not to tense up too much when you hear Price come up the stairs, eyeing him nervously from the other side of the room.

“You’ve got that look again, darling,” he says, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t lock it this time. The knot in your shoulder aches when they untense.

“What look?” you ask, averting your gaze when he drops the towel to change into his nightwear.

“Like a doe.”

You snort, distinctly unladylike. “Like a deer before it’s shot?”

“The very same. Didn’t I tell you it’d be straight to bed?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. In the back of your mind, you must have assumed he was placating you, saying words just to soothe. It’s rare that men speak plainly and mean it. Over the years, you’ve learned to read into second meanings and real intentions couched in soft words. Men like to think themselves simple, but you know a vast underground world.

Some part of you grows anxious with your own inability to play the part of his simpering wife. He must have thought he’d be taking to bed something nurturing and with wings. It’d be easier if you just acquiesced; you can’t imagine he’d worry so much about his doting wife fleeing in the middle of the night. Not the wife happy to spread her legs for him.

“Why are you so patient?” you ask him outright instead.

He takes a moment to answer, studying you. His face by lamplight is inscrutable. “Nothing good comes plucked too soon.”

“You don’t think that God gave you the right to—” You can’t say the words, but he understands.

“The methods of God take pickaxes and shovels to uncover,” Price says, so simply, so plainly. You hardly understand what he means. “It’s not a man’s place to rush to understand His intentions.”

You think it’s almost unfair for a man to say those words to you when you plan on running away from him. It makes you dig your nails into the palms of your hands.

You’re still nervous when you crawl into bed, eyeing him when he settles on his side and turns the lamp off, cupping his palm around the glass and blowing out the flame. There’s little to worry about though. Price doesn’t so much as shift from his side of the bed.

The world outside is beyond gold and red now, when you stare out the window from where you lie on your side. When you think of the past, it comes with a searing pain. Then, it is no more.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #price x you #price x reader #price/reader #john price x reader

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viceroywrites · 1 month

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deja vu - part 2

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

choose your own ending / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

(if you would like a link to the playlist i created for this series, lmk!)

part one | part three

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii/@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby / @gxstiess / @skrunkle11 / @valinbean / @funkyenby / @therealgoofygoober69 / @theblueraven / @adrian920155 / @im-kinda-bored / @miarabanana / @uwauiss / @leo4242564 / @doggosnoodles12 / @soupieoopieisloopie / @zhungxi / @bandaids-n-porcelain / @marvelous-maniac / @opossumclown

It was a tense interaction following your question.

Ford’s eyebrows raised in alarm and he carefully approached you, “Of course, we’ve met before, it’s me, Stanford.”

You pause, glancing between Stanley and his twin before replying hesitantly, “Sorry, the name doesn’t ring a bell. I just learned your name a few seconds ago from your brother.”

Ford’s lips narrow into a thin line, vexation written all over his face, “I know we parted ways on less than ideal terms, Y/N, but there’s no reason to pretend like you don’t recognize me.”

Your eyebrow raised at Ford’s firm stance, crossing your arms, “I’m sorry to say but I truly don’t. Maybe you have me mistaken for someone else perhaps?” You can’t help but get defensive, feeling accused that you were blowing off this complete stranger.

“Oh, I’m not mistaken. I know you very well, Y/N. I know that you got your Masters in Geology at Backupsmore. I know that ammolite is your favorite gemstone. I know that you learned hamboning from Fiddleford just to get on my nerves.” Ford counters you with facts, his own stubbornness coming through as you stare each other down.

Your eyes widen at the amount of detail Ford seems to know about you, “How do you know all these things about me? How do you know Fiddleford? Did you help him with his research out here?”

Ford sighs heavily, “I know I messed up back then and I know you must hate me but can you please drop this childish charade?” His low voice raises slightly in volume as his frustration mounts as he finally snaps at you.

“Ford!” Stan cuts in between the two of you, catching both of you off guard, “Lay off her… I genuinely think she doesn’t… remember.” He sighs, putting the pieces together surprisingly quickly compared to his brother. He grabs his twin by the arm, pulling him off to the side, “Give us a second, we’ll be right back.” Stan says to you, giving you an apologetic stare.

You nod slowly as you decide to take a seat on the steps, watching as the sun slowly begins to set in the horizon. This new information perplexes you as you try to wrack your brain if Fiddleford had ever mentioned working with someone during his time in Gravity Falls.

Meanwhile, the Pines twins walk off into the distance, just out of ear shot. “So who is she?” Stan questions, needing answers from his brother before he can present his finding. Ford bristles at the question, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looks off into the distance before answering, “Remember when we were out at sea commiserating on past romances… and I told you how I had met someone during my time in college but she left after I had gotten too deep into my involvement with Bill.”

“Yeah, vaguely, I thought you were just making that up to try and relate to my stories about my ex-wives. You never were smooth with the ladies.” Stan admits with a shrug to which Ford rolls his eyes at. “Well, that’s her. The age old cliche of the one that got away.” Ford summarizes, “But she was never this petty before. I know I hurt her immensely but…”

“She’s not being petty, poindexter. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Stan sighs, running a hand over his face in exasperation. Ford stares back blankly at him, unsure how to respond. “God, you’re supposed to be the smart one here. Remember your old friend McGucket’s invention? You know the one that can literally erase memories? The one that erased all my memories?” Stan spells it out for his brother.

It all clicks in Ford’s head, “You don’t think… Fiddleford wiped her memory, do you?”

“Ding, ding, we got a winner!” Stan says sardonically, “Took ya long enough.”

“Why would he do that? I need to get to the bottom of this, Stanley…” Ford looks over his brother’s shoulder, staring at you. Despite the time that has passed, you look just as vibrant as he remembered you, your features highlighted in the orange glow of the sunset.

Stan notices the longing look on his brother’s face and places a hand on his shoulder, “You know she’s supposed to head out tomorrow morning? Got a whole road trip planned ahead.”

“Well, let’s see if she’d at least be willing to stick around to talk to Fiddleford.” Ford says with steely determination as he begins to walk back towards you, Stan following at his heels.

You look up as the pair walk up to you, able to see them side by side. There were distinct differences in terms of style but they were nearly identical, only just now picking up the cleft in Stanford’s chin and their different glasses.

Ford mulls over his choice of words. Despite being the more logical twin, Ford had to admit he was perhaps just as stubborn as his brother. “My apologies for my directness. I know you may not remember me, but please trust me when I say that we have an extensive history together. What if we were to visit Fiddleford tomorrow to perhaps quell your doubts and clarify some things?” He offers, hoping in the back of his mind that you’ll say yes.

You pause at the offer, thinking it through. You had the urge to decline, still on the defense. After all, this man pretty much accused you of acting like a child when you didn’t recognize him.

However, you did wish to see Fiddleford again, so curious about what happened to him after all these years.

“Alright, I’ll stay another day in Gravity Falls to see Fiddleford. But I want to know a little bit more about you.” Your eyes narrow in on Ford. Stan clears his throat, very aware of the tension between the two of you. “Well, I’m gonna go take care of… the broken thing inside...” He grumbles out the last part, making an awkward escape as he walks past you up the steps before pausing at the door to address you, “Come back inside whenever you and Sixer are done talking, I’ll clear out one of the rooms so you can stay for the night.”

Before you can protest, Stan closes the screen door behind him, giving you and Ford some privacy.

“So you had some questions for me?” Ford sighs, deciding to take a seat next to you. It felt so strange to be so close to you physically after all this time yet so distant due to your loss of memories, wishing that he could pull you into a tight embrace and apologize for everything that happened in the past.

“Well, I’m assuming if you know Fiddleford and somehow know that I got my Masters in Geology that you went to Backupsmore as well.” You start there, knowing the common thread that connects the two of you is the university you all attended, “That’s correct, not my first choice obviously.” Ford replies with a nod.

“Is it anyone’s first choice?” You comment which pulls a chuckle from Ford who shakes his head. “Very true, I know it wasn’t either of ours. Fiddleford was just elated to be the first in his family to even go.”

“So what did you major in?” You ask with a tilt of your head, “And how did you meet Fiddleford?”

“What didn’t I major in is the better question. I technically have 12 PhDs but my main focuses were Physics and Molecular Biology.” Ford admitted with a sense of pride, your jaw almost dropping at this information. ”As for how I met Fiddleford, I had proposed a theory in class one time that immediately got shot down by my professor. But Fiddleford shared my passion for pushing boundaries of existing theories and knowledge and we spent the whole night trying to prove it had validity.” Ford said, smiling at that particular memory.

You note the admiration in Ford’s voice as he speaks of Fiddleford, knowing that their relationship must be close. “I’m so confused… how do I not remember you if you and Fiddleford have such a close relationship?” You sigh, second guessing your own memories at this point. All this information felt like it made sense logically but it was difficult to suspend your disbelief. You hesitate to ask the question, “How... did we meet?”

Ford pauses, staring out into the forest, unable to meet your gaze as he recounts your first meeting. It seems so distant but it was a simple time before life got complicated.

Before he made your lives complicated.

Before he can reply, you cut him off, seeing the pained look in his eyes and realizing you may have gone too far. Whoever you were to him, something must have happened between the two of you that led to this reaction. “Actually, don’t answer that… It's getting late and I know we’ll have all of tomorrow to go over this with Fiddleford.”

“Right… we should probably call it for the evening.” Ford lets out a sigh of relief, getting up from his spot on the steps. He offers his hand, your eyes flicking towards it and noting the six fingers that were facing towards you. Realizing what you’re staring at, he is about to withdraw his hand, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks, but you take it, your warm fingers wrapping around his palm, as you stand up.

“Are you heading inside?” You ask, still holding into his hand. He realizes you have yet to let go and basks in the moment, fighting the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours. “I’m going to stay out here for a bit longer. I should probably fix that invention that I was working on before…” Ford admits, almost waiting for you to scold him like you would in the past.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod in understanding, squeezing Ford’s hand one final time before letting go. “Alright, I’m gonna head inside and see where I’m sleeping for the night…” You begin to walk towards the doorway before pausing at the door.

“Hey… I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I really hope tomorrow something sparks my memory.” You say, “Good night, Stanford.” You disappear behind the doorway, not waiting for him to respond.

Ford stares as he watches your frame retreat from behind the door, “Good night, Y/N… my dear.” The old pet name feeling heavy on his tongue but he can’t help but let it out.

As you stare up at the ceiling, you wonder how you even ended up in a storage room inside a tourist trap, laying on an air mattress.

Your trip - at least for the next day or so - is derailed. You’re thankful that Stan had offered to let you stay in the Mystery Shack as you were planning on sleeping in your car underneath the stars, drained from today’s turns of events and too tired to drive into town to try and find some sort of accommodation.

Yet your trip isn’t even the most pressing thing on your mind.

Who is Stanford Pines?

Your eyes shut tightly, trying to mull over the potential possibilities of how you might know this man who vehemently claims to know you. You knew you were getting older but there’s no way your memory was this shot, especially considering the fact that Ford had shared that he and Fiddleford were close friends and went to Backupsmore.

Your mind continued to draw blanks, unable to pinpoint a single memory that involved him.

Yet something about him was so familiar. Maybe that’s why a sense of deja vu had hit you the moment you met his brother and walked through the Mystery Shack.

Finally, fatigue hits you and you are able to fall asleep, slipping into a new dream.

You find yourself back at Backupsmore, walking through the quad and making your way to the library. The campus is decorated in hues of orange and yellow, autumn leaves scattered across the grass. Your boots crunching against the leaves as you weave through the bodies that mill around to and from class.

A gust of wind hits your face, wincing as the harshness against your skin as you had forgotten to bring a scarf on your trek. You finally make it to the library, opening the heavy doors to be greeted to the warmth and scent of old paperback books.

You walk past the front desk, making your way directly to the back of the library to the stacks. You pass the mostly empty study carrels one by one, looking for someone specific.

You get to the very end of what seemed like a never ending maze and see a table tucked into the corner, surrounded by bookshelves. A broad-shouldered figure, wearing a sweater vest, sits facing away from you, their head buried in the pile of books around them.

Your lips begin to move, calling out a name to address the person before you.

Stanford.

You wake up in a startle, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you feel a sudden pressure on your chest. Your eyes adjust to the sight in front of you, seeing a blur of pink, thinking you’re still dreaming. Rubbing your eyes vigorously, you realize there’s a pig sniffing your face in curiosity.

“God, what have I gotten myself into?” You groan out groggily, laying back in defeat as Waddles begins to lick your cheek.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Ford sits awkwardly in front of an audience of his great nephew and niece who are gaping at him in awe, just having explained the whole situation to them as they questioned who’s car was parked in the front of the Mystery Shack.

Stan sips from a mug that spells ‘World’s Greatest Grunkle’ that Mabel made him, a slightly amused grin spreading across his face. The look on their faces was priceless, he thinks to himself, wishing he could take a photo of it. Though, he was in their shoes just last night, still processing that his poindexter brother actually landed someone after all those years of fearing girls and that she somehow ended up stranded on the side of the road just as he was driving back home.

He was just grateful though that his brother wasn’t around for the parts where he was clearly smooth talking to you, unaware that you were his twin’s ex-lover.

“Oh my god, Grunkle Ford, this is amazing!” Mabel exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief, “See, I’ve been trying to figure who the ideal candidate would be to match you with but I couldn’t think of anyone in Gravity Falls. Maybe you two can rekindle your romance! We just need to do what we did with Grunkle Stan and show her things to remind her of your time together!”

“Or maybe her memories are stored where the Society of the Blind Eye held Old Man McGucket’s memories? There were a ton of Gravity Falls citizens’ names in there, I’m sure she’s somewhere in that pile.” Dipper offers as a suggestion, more invested in understanding how to restore memory loss from the Memory Gun than Mabel’s romantic plans for her uncle.

Though he had to admit that there was a sliver of him that was rooting for his Grunkle Ford in the romance department.

“Those are excellent suggestions, kids. I’m hoping perhaps talking to Fiddleford today will be one of the first steps into getting her memory back. There is one issue though with your suggestion, Mabel.” Ford admits, slightly crestfallen, “I don’t really have anything left from our time we were together. When she left, she took all remnants of her, photos of us together, letters she wrote to me. What I do have left I’m not sure if it will be effective in bringing those memories back.”

“What is it, Grunkle Ford? Maybe we can still use it, you never know if you don’t try!” Mabel said in reassurance.

Ford hesitated, feeling Dipper, Mabel and Stan’s eyes trained on him, waiting for a response.

Thankfully, your presence saved him in the nick of time, clearing your throat awkwardly. This catches everyone’s attention, Dipper and Mabel’s head whipping around. You stand in the entrance to the kitchen, still clad in your pajamas and your hair tousled from sleep, holding Waddles in your arms.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting, I just wanted to make sure this pig is supposed to be in here. He somehow got into my room.” You say, noticing how Waddles squirms now in your arms as he sees Mabel. You put him down and watch him scurry to Mabel who eagerly scoops him into her arms, nuzzling his pink cheek.

“You’re all good, we were just having breakfast. Need a cup of coffee?” Stan says nonchalantly, grabbing the coffee pot that was by his elbow. You nod eagerly, walking towards him and taking the mug that he poured you. “These are me and Ford’s grandniece and nephew, by the way, since you didn’t get to meet them last night. They’re staying here for the summer.” Stan gestures to the two twins that are staring at you like you had a second head.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mabel! Sorry about Waddles, he kinda wanders around the house if I’m not awake yet.” The energetic brunette introduces herself. “No need to apologize, he was very sweet. If anything, he got me out of bed to get my day started. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You say with a relaxed smile.

“I’m Dipper, nice to meet you. Grunkle Stan was just telling us how you ended up staying here.” The more relaxed male counterpart to Mabel chimed in, trying to move the conversation away from the topic discussed prior to you entering the room. Ford let out a slight sigh of relief, grateful that he was no longer in the hot seat.

“Well, your Grunkle Stan saved me from having to spend a pretty penny on a tow truck and a place to stay so I’m very grateful for that.” You chuckle, getting used to the term ‘Grunkle’.

“Sooo, Y/N, mind if I do a little Q&A with you? Since you’ll be staying here, I wanna get to know you better!” Mabel said eagerly, mentally mapping out her questions already. You blink owlishly before your eyes flick between Stan and Ford in amusement, “Fire away, Mabel. Though I hope your Grunkles didn’t put you up to this as a little payback for when I interrogated them yesterday?”

“She questioned you too?” Ford says in surprise to his brother who scratches chin mindlessly. “A little bit after finishing up the tour I gave her of the Mystery Shack. This one’s ruthless, no wonder she works for the government!” Stan taunts, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Wait, you work for the government?” Dipper asks, his eyes slightly narrowing in skepticism. You blink at his almost defensive reaction before elbowing Stan in the side who almost chokes on his coffee, “I literally asked you three questions. Don’t listen to him, I work for the National Parks, not the CIA.”

Dipper visibly relaxes and Mabel’s eyes linger on where you elbowed Grunkle Stan, picking up on how relaxed you seemed around him compared to Grunkle Ford. In fact, you had barely acknowledged Ford this morning, standing by the counter next to Stan. Mabel decides to take matters into her own hands, playing matchmaker as she gets up from her chair.

“Well that answers one of my questions. By the way, take a seat, Y/N! You’re our guest and I’m finished with my pancakes!” She walks over to you, pulling you by the hand as you plop onto the chair that is coincidentally right next to Ford. “Thanks Mabel..” You roll with the situation before looking over at Ford who stares at you with what seems to be pride.

“You really made it to the National Parks, huh? That was your dream since freshman year…” Ford says though immediately regrets it as you stare back at him in surprise. “Yeah.. I did. No one really knew about that.. Not even Fiddleford.” You reply, running your thumb over the print on the mug bashfully. “Well, um... I’m really happy for you. I know you must have worked hard to get there.” Ford offers, not sure how else to respond.

You smile warmly, taking a sip from your coffee, “Thanks, I appreciate it. It means a lot coming from someone with 12 PhDs.” You tease at the end to which Ford’s cheeks redden in embarrassment and flattery.

Mabel hops up on the counter next to her Grunkle Stan who mutters under his breath, “Smooth move, kid.”

You turn to look back at Mabel, “Any more questions for me?”

Mabel taps her chin, deep in thought. Her eyes flicker over to great-uncle Ford who continues to stare at you in admiration. She snaps her fingers, putting her match-making skills to use once again, “What would you say is your type in a partner?”

“Mabel! What kinda question is that?” Dipper groans, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Wow, we’re getting to the real hard-hitting questions.” You say in amusement, slightly caught off guard but amused. You ponder the answer yourself, wondering if the kids would understand what you mean by this.

“Well, does your generation know what a silver fox is?” You ask with a sheepish grin and a flush to your cheeks, rubbing the back of your neck.

Your answer causes a chain reaction of different responses.

Mabel squeals with an eager nod, looking over hopefully at her Grunkle Ford.

Dipper and Stan both end up spitting out their milk and coffee respectively.

Ford sits at the table, blinking in confusion.

“What’s a silver fox? Is that a new type of species?”

After cleaning up the mess that Stan and Dipper had made, you finally start getting ready to head out with Ford to visit your old friend. You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing your outfit before reaching to grab the hairbrush Mabel graciously lets you borrow after you realize that you had forgotten yours in the car.

Stan walks down the stairs, having changed out of his white tank-top and pajama pants into clothes more suitable for going out. He pauses at the open bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Hey, while you and Poindexter catch up with McGucket, I’m gonna swing into town later tonight to get you a replacement battery for your car.”

Placing the brush down, you address Stan, “You sure? I can always ask Ford if we could stop by the auto shop on the way back to pick it up.”

Stan scoffs, “Please, my brother’s smart and knows a ton about science-y stuff but he’s hopeless when it comes to cars. Besides, I know a guy, I’ll get you a discount.”

“Alright.. Just let me know how much I owe you, I’m for sure paying you back.” You say hesitantly as you make your way towards the door. Stan steps aside to let you through, “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively.

Technically, that guy was Bud Gleeful and that discount was five-fingered but you didn’t have to know that.

“You found your way around the Mystery Shack pretty easily, by the way. Didn’t even have to show you where the bathroom was, I sometimes have a hard time finding it and I’ve lived here for over 30 years.” Stan comments. You realize that even this morning, you walked directly to the kitchen, almost like your feet knew where to go through pure muscle memory.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Ford’s deep voice calls out, walking down the hallway to approach you and Stan.

“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” You say, slightly nervous to see Fiddleford again. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he didn’t even remember you just like you couldn’t remember Ford?

Ford could see the furrow in your brow, a sign he had picked up through the years you had been together that you were overthinking. He hesitates for a second but places a hand on your arm, snapping you out of your rumination. “He’ll be elated to see you, Y/N. Though to give you a fair warning, he looks a lot different than how he did during our college days.” He says reassuringly.

You nod, smiling up at him, your nerves calmed down for now. “Thanks, Ford. I’m gonna go grab my bag and I’ll meet you outside.” You make your way back down the hallway, leaving the twins by themselves.

“Think she might already be starting to getting some of her memories back just by being here…” Stan muttered, following his brother outside. Ford’s eyebrow raises in confusion, “What makes you say that, Stanley?”

“She knows how to get around the house without even thinking about it. I know I gave her a tour but that was just the showroom and the gift shop.” Stan shares his observation, holding the door open for Ford as they step out into the front yard where Stan’s car is parked.

“Fascinating… maybe her memories may come back more organically than we had thought.” Ford muses before placing his hand out, “The keys, Stanley?”

Stan sighs, rummaging through his jacket before placing his keys in his brother’s hand, “You know I could have just driven you two up to the mansion but someone insisted I give you two alone time to bond.”

Ford squeezes the keys in his hand before smiling at his brother, “I should probably say thank you to Mabel then… and thanks Stanley for bringing her here.”

Stan punches his twin in the arm affectionately, “Whatever, I just better not see a scratch on El Diablo when you two get back.” Ford winces but grins, rubbing the spot on his arm.

Right on cue, you close the creaky door behind you, bag slung over your shoulder as you walk over to the pair, “Alright, I’m ready to go! Sorry, Mabel stopped me on the way out to ask my opinion on what sweater she should wear to the roller rink. Apparently, none of you guys have the taste to give her a valid opinion.” You chuckle.

“Roller rink? I swear these kids turn thirteen and think they can just go around without telling their Grunkle where they’re going.” Stan sighs in exasperation, calling out Mabel’s name as he walks back inside. You follow Ford to the car, sliding into the passenger side. “Sorry if my driving is a bit rusty, Stanley’s usually the one that drives us around when we’re in Oregon for the summer.” Ford apologizes in advance, pulling out of Mystery Shack and onto the open road.

“I mean as long we come out unscathed, I’m not complaining.” You say nonchalantly, taking in the sight of the massive trees that tower over the two way road in front of you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, neither one of you knowing how to spark conversation. There lingered an unspoken heaviness, mostly due in part the intensity of your exchange the previous night. Ford desperately wanted to talk to you and yet he was drawing a blank on what to even talk about.

As you make your way up the winding hills, Ford finally speaks up, deciding to ask you more about your work, “So you work for the National Parks? Are you a research scientist or did you go the natural resource conservation route?” He asks, remembering how you were torn between pursuing further research or honing in on your love of preserving nature.

“You’re pretty well-informed about the geoscience field. I just tell most people I look at rocks all day.” You admit, toying with the necklace that you had tucked into your shirt, “I started off in research but I realized that most of my time was spent in labs and studying specimens rather than actually out in the field. I love the parks so much, I was itching to get back out there so I switched to conservation.”

“Makes sense, just studying concepts and theories in a controlled environment isn’t nearly as fun as getting hands-on experience.” Ford chuckles. His eyes flick over to see your fingers rolling around the vibrant orange gemstone attached to your necklace, almost choking on his spit. Your eyes meet his and your eyebrow raises as Ford’s expression is like he’s seen a ghost.

“You okay? Do I have something on my face?” You question, pulling down the sun visor to check your appearance in the mirror. Ford shakes his head vigorously, clearing his throat, “No… I… do you remember where you got that necklace?”

You pause at his query, putting the sun visor back into its original position and glancing down at the sunstone that dangles from the simple gold chain. “Oh this? I honestly don’t remember, I’ve had it for quite some time. Why do you ask?”

Ford takes a deep breath before looking back onto the road, “I… well… gave it to you. We drove up here from Backupsmore to start my grant research. Along the way, we stopped near one of the parks and you found that piece of sunstone. You carried it around everywhere so one night, I took the time to fashion it into a necklace so you’d never lose it.”

There’s a pause before you speak. That pause felt like eternity to Ford.

“You know…I think you were in my dream last night...” You say, staring at the necklace with a newfound understanding. “I was back at Backupsmore and walking to the library. I ended up walking up to someone with their head buried in the books and I called out your name but I woke up after that.”

Ford was not expecting that response, looking over at you in alarm, “This may be a stretch but was there indication in your dream that it was fall?” You nod slowly.

“That was the first time we met. You were struggling with the section on seismic refractions in a physics course that I had taken a semester prior. Our professor recommended me as a tutor.” Ford recounts, his fingers gripping the wheel slightly tighter.

“Jeez… could all my dreams… just be memories?” You mutter to yourself but loud enough for Ford to hear it. “You’ve had other dreams….?” Ford questioned, his mind reeling with this discovery. “Yeah, I’ve had them for years. There’s always someone else in them… but before I can figure out or discern who it might be, my body wakes up.” You admit, rifling through your bag before pulling out a small leather bound journal.

“This is a bit embarrassing to admit but I’ve been keeping track of them here.” You say hesitantly as you hold up the leather bound journal. Ford stared between you and the journal in awe. He had always found preparation attractive and he thinks he may have fallen in love with you all over again.

“Perhaps we can go through some of them and see if it correlates to any memories I have.” Ford attempts to say with a steady voice but there’s a hint of excitement in his proposition. “I honestly would love that… I feel like I’ve been trying to crack the code of these dreams without any key.” You reply eagerly.

Ford makes the final turn up the hill, approaching the massive gates to what was formerly the Northwest Manor. Your eyes widen, staring at the impressive estate before you. You watch as Ford presses on the intercom, “Fiddleford, we’re here.” before the gates open to let you in.

“This.. is where Fiddleford lives? Did he make a breakthrough with his personal computers or something?” You question to which Ford chuckles nervously. “You could say that. Honestly, it’s quite a long story that we can talk about inside.” After parking the car in front of the fountain, Ford gets out of the car before opening the door for you.

You two make your way to the wooden front door, which bursts open soon after Ford raps his knuckles against it. You’re greeted by your friend, who looks considerably older despite being the same age as you and Stanford that you almost didn’t recognize him. Fiddleford embraces Ford first before stepping back to assess you. You gulp, anxiety filling up your system once again.

You’re quickly enveloped into a tight hug by Fiddleford, which you return. “My god, Fiddleford, it’s been too long. I thought you disappeared off the face of the Earth.” You said shakily. You two pull apart as Fiddleford grasps your arms, “Sweet sarsaparilla, look at you, Y/N! You make me and Ford look like old geezers! I’m real sorry I hadn’t reached out until now…”

“There’s no need to apologize, Fiddleford… I’m just glad we reconnected.” You say, a wave of nostalgia hitting you. “Come on in, you two! We got a lot of catching up to do!” Fiddleford says, ushering you into the massive home with his arm before closing the door.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls x you #stanford x reader #ford pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #ford pines

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vintagebunnies · 19 days

Text

when working as a waitress in a shoddy little diner out in the middle of nowhere, you encounter a lot of strange faces on a daily basis. the occasional truck driver stopping in for a bite to eat after 24-hours on the road, a construction worker from down the street. but nothing compares to this guy who walked in.

it was later at night, business was slow, so it was no doubt a macabre sight to see a hulking guy in a skull face balaclava walking in with a menacing aura.

it seemed like the plot of every horror movie; the lone waitress working at night getting preyed on by the scary murderer who walks in.

you could feel the hair on your arms raise as he sat down, clearly just a tad too big for the leather booth he decided to sit in at the far corner of the diner. you swallow the dry lump in your throat as you walk over to him, shoes squeaking against the sticky linoleum floors.

“do you need a moment with the menu?”

the strange man just grunts in response, your eyes flickering everywhere but the man’s face. he was looking straight at you, dead eyes staring back through a ruinous facade.

“just a tea. black.”

the man’s voice was a vibrating rumble that you could feel through your bones. you nodded with a sweet smile, trying to cover up the fear you were no doubt experiencing.

“of course.”

you quickly turn, a shiver running down your spine as you walk away. it was even more chilling knowing that it was only you and one other person working tonight, the perfect setting for a murder to take place without a single trace of the perpetrator.

you could feel the dimness of the man’s eyes searing a hole in the back of your head while you prepared his tea. your nails were impatiently tapping a soft rhythm on the countertop near the kettle.

the loud whistle of the kettle penetrated through the thick air, the sound echoing off the walls of the building. you meticulously poured the tea into the mug, sweaty hands gripping onto the porcelain while you walked it over to the man in the booth.

“would that be all?”

the man didn’t reply, just stared right into the dark color of the tea. you took that as the cue to walk away. not super talkative, gotcha.

you walked to the back of the diner where your coworker was, wanting to stay as far from the man as possible.

“would you mind closing up once he leaves?”

your heart pummeled into your stomach once you heard those words. the last thing you wanted tonight was to be left here. alone. but maybe you were just paranoid. maybe the giant, frightening man was just awkward. don’t judge a book by its cover, and all.

you stuttered out a ‘that’s fine’ before your coworker was hurriedly making their way out through the back entrance. it felt even more eerie knowing that it was just you now. you looked through the window of the door to the kitchen and just watched the man. he sat there emotionlessly, mask pulled up slightly over his mouth to sip at his tea.

you could tell there was a scar that bisected right through his lip. the puckered skin not allowing his lip to fully cover his canine. you worked up the courage to go back to the dining area, wiping the sweat off of your brow before decidedly walking out.

you cleared your throat as you stood at the man’s table.

“um… do you want the check now?”

you approached him slowly, like he was a wild animal that shouldn’t be around sudden movements. like he’d pounce any moment. sink his sharp teeth right into the soft flesh of your carotid.

you cursed yourself for even saying anything when he slowly turned to look at you, still not speaking. your eyes fluttered as you handed him the check anyways. you hastily walked away, wanting to be as far away as possible at this point. this man seemed to only know how to communicate in grunts or mean stares.

a few minutes that felt like hours passed by, you checked to see if he was still here, and by the grace of some godly force, the man was gone. you released a large exhale and went over to the table to collect the cash but… there was nothing on the table. he left without paying!

“fuckin’ bastard!”

you crumbled up the check on the table, and angrily grabbed the empty mug. you should’ve known this would happen. a strange man walking into a diner late at night, only ordering tea, and then completely disappearing without paying. a measly 3-quid wouldn’t hurt his wallet, you were sure.

either way, you had to just take it for what it was. the man was finally gone, and you could now clock out for the night. you decided to just pay the missing money yourself, you’d rather not take this problem to your boss. essentially causing more problems than not.

you sighed heavily as you got into your car, the weight of the day falling off your shoulders finally. you still had the creeps from that man, but he could just be added to the long list of shady customers.

you only got down the street from the diner before your car started to sputter. you pulled off to the side of the road, a deep and dark forest on both sides of you. you quickly hopped out of the car, popping the hood to see if you could spot anything yourself. there was no service out here, so either you would have to check for problems yourself, or just wait it out.

just as you were intently looking around, a pair of bright headlights and the loud bellow of a truck pulled up right behind your car. you recognized the face in the drivers seat as the ominous man from the diner.

you fell right into the predators territory.

#halloween’s only a month away #so my mind is running rampant with ideas #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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x0xomady · 2 months

Text

gold rush

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt.2 - ☁️

(harry styles x female reader)

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, NONCON, housewife kink, corruption kink, spit kink, humiliation, misogynistic themes, cheating (not on y/n), manipulation, no aftercare, harry is an asshole, p in v, oral m recieving, degrading behavior, unprotected sex, it’s just nasty. (all characters are 18+)

summary: during the 1850’s, families moved out to california for the gold rush. it just so happens that harry’s family moved out to the same town as yours. or, an older man cheats on his wife and corrupts the innnocent girl living next door.

a/n: okay this is based on THIS request. read the warnings first, if this isn’t your thing, IGNORE IT.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"y/n." my mother's voice echoed through our small wooden house. "come and get washed up for dinner!"

i was so deep in my book that i nearly missed her calling my name. “what?" i said, snapping out of my reverie.

my mother appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips, looking at me with an exasperated expression. “stop reading and get cleaned up. we're having guests over tonight for dinner, and i need you to look presentable.”

i nod as i mark the page and set my book aside. i knew how important manners and appearances were to my mother, especially when we had guests over for dinner.

“who are the guests?”

my mother raised an eyebrow at my question, as if surprised i even had to ask. "the new couple that just moved into the old cabin down the road. they just had a newborn, and your father asked them to come over for dinner."

i nod as a feeling of dread creeps over me. it wasn't the first time we had hosted newcomers to the settlement, but the idea of having to be on my best behavior in front of strangers was always nerve-wracking.

“okay, i’ll go get ready." i say as i make my way to the washroom.

𖥔 2 hours later 𖥔

the dining room is filled with the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat, which we only eat on special occasions, and potatoes. the flickering flames of the oil lamps dimly illuminate the room, casting a warm glow over everything.

mother is bustling about, making sure everything is just so. the table is set to perfection, with a white lace tablecloth draped across it and sets of our best porcelain plates set atop it.

my father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a perpetually serious expression, sits in his usual spot at the head of the table. he looks up as i walk into the room, and gives me a slight nod of approval. at that, i take my place at the table, my stomach churning with nerves. being an introvert is all fine until you have to meet new people.

a knock on the door signals the arrival of our guests, and my heart begins to race. i straighten my dress and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as my mother goes to answer the door.

the sound of our guests' voices and footsteps echo through the house, making my chest feel tight. my mother leads them into the dining room, smiling widely with her best hospitality. as the guests enter the room, i lift my gaze and look at them for the first time.

.“y/n, this is mrs. styles, and her new baby elijah.” my mother motions towards mrs. styles. she is a very attractive looking woman, with long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. i smile politely and stand up from the table to greet her.

“it's lovely to meet you, mrs. styles," i say softly with a smile. i notice baby elijah, who is sleeping soundly in his mother's arms for the first time, swaddled in a blanket. “you have a very cute baby.”

mrs. styles smiles warmly as she looks down at her sleeping baby. "thank you. he's only a few weeks old, but we already adore him so much."

my mother offers to take the baby, and mrs. styles hands him over to her, revealing the man standing behind her for the first time.

“oh yes, and this is mr. styles.” my mother introduces me to him quickly before carrying the baby over to the table and starting a light conversation with mrs. styles.

he is a tall, well-built man with a handsome face, green eyes, and thick brown hair. he is at least 10 years older than me, but at least 10 years younger than my father.

he looks over the room, his gaze finally landing upon me. i quickly drop my eyes and sit back down, feeling my cheeks flush. i can feel his eyes on me, and i'm not quite sure how to react.

suddenly, mother motions him over to the table, and he takes the seat next to my father.

as everyone sits down, my stomach begins to churn even more nervously. i glance at mr. styles every now and then, feeling his eyes on me.

conversation flows around the table, with my mother and mrs. styles talking about the baby. mr. styles and my father discuss work and the town.

the meal progresses, but I am not able to focus on my food. my mind keeps wandering to mr. styles, and i can't help but steal glances at him throughout the dinner.

he seems to notice my glances, and his piercing green eyes keep flicking towards me, making my heart race.

the meal is generally mild with small talk shared between my parents and the new couple.

“y/n honey, would you please take elijah out for a little while? mrs styles would probably like some time to eat.”

my mother gives me a “listen. now.” look and motions for me to take the baby. i nod and stand up from the table, taking elijah from his mothers arms.

“thank you darling, that’s so sweet of you.” mrs styles smiles and squeezes my hand as i take the baby from her and walk him out of the dining room.

once out of the dining room, I make my way to the back porch, walking slowly so as not to wake the baby. the night air is cool and refreshing as i sit down on the small wood bench my father had built for the porch.

I cradle the baby in my arms and look down at him, admiring his tiny, peaceful face. The only sound is the soft crackling of the fire from inside the house, and the occasional chirping of cicadas in the trees.

“you’re a very sweet baby.” i hum and look down at his soft little face.

as i sit there, slowly rocking and cooing at the baby, i hear footsteps behind me. i turn my head to see mr. styles walking out onto the porch, his green eyes meeting mine.

mr. styles leans against the porch and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a quick flick of his lighter. he takes a long drag, and lets out a plume of smoke into the night air.

he studies me for a moment, his eyes locking with mine before he speaks.

"you seem to have a way with children. he's sleeping soundly.” he motions to the baby in my arms, and I look back down at Elijah, who is indeed still asleep, his little chest rising and falling gently.

"i suppose i do," i replies softly, looking back up at mr. styles.

he takes another hit from his cigarette, the smoke swirling in the air around him as he gazes at me intently.

“hm. you’re a lot better with him then i. when the wife had him i couldn’t even hold him.” he hums and leans against the post, watching me soothe elijah.

i smile softly, watching the baby's eyelashes flutter as he sleeps. "it takes a lot of patience."

mr. styles nods as he takes another drag from his cigarette. "im not exactly the most patient person."

just then the door to the house opens again. my mother and mrs. styles step out the door.

“it was so lovely to have you two over, it’ll be great to have you in the town.” my mother smiles and hands mrs. styles a basket of baked goods she made to welcome them to the area.

mrs. styles takes the basket, smiling warmly at my mother. “thank you so much for hosting us. we really appreciate warm welcome.”

i hand the tightly swaddled baby back to mrs. styles and bid my goodbyes to elijah.

mr. styles snuffs out his cigarette and steps towards the two women, his gaze flickering to me once more before returning to my mother.

"thanks for dinner ma'am." he says to my mother with a charming smile.

my mother smiles warmly and pats him on the shoulder. "it was our pleasure."

mrs. styles thanks my mother again and turns to me.

“you know y/n, if you’re ever free i would love to have you over. you were so sweet with elijah i really appreciate it.”

i’m slightly taken aback by mrs. styles’ offer, pleasantly surprised. “of course, i would love to come by sometime.”

mrs. styles smiles and squeezes my hand once more before turning to my mother. “we best get going. it’s getting late.”

“of course, safe travels home.” my mother nods.

mrs. styles bids us goodbye and she and mr. styles walk down the path, disappearing into the night.

my mother turns to me with a satisfied smile on her face. “i think that went well.”

i nod, still feeling a little bit of butterflies from mr. styles' gaze. my mother smiles and pats my back.

“cmon dear, let’s get inside and wash up.”

𖥔 3 weeks later 𖥔

it's a warm bright day, as it usually is in early july. i walk down the dust path into the town center. there isn’t much in our small town, but we do have the necessities.

i continue past the main square, and make my way down the road towards the ranches on the south of the town. my white summer dress glides across the dirt road as i walk.

a few ranch houses are nestled among the trees, and there are pens full of livestock next to some. i come up to mrs. styles' house, and take a deep breath before walking up to the familiar front door.

since meeting the family weeks ago, i’ve had the opportunity to spend time with mrs. styles and occasionally watch elijah for her.

i knock on the door and wait for a response. after a moment, i hear shuffling from inside, and the door swings open to reveal mrs. styles, holding elijah in her arms.

“y/n! so nice to see you, come inside honey.” she smiles widely and opens the door further, motioning for me to come in.

i return mrs. styles' smile, and enter the house. it's a modest house, but cosy. the living room is filled with natural light as the windows on all sides are open, letting in a warm summer breeze.

“thank you so much again for agreeing to watch elijah. i would have harry watch him, but you know how men are.” she smiles and hands elijah to me.

i take the baby from her, immediately cradling him against my chest. he looks up at me with wide eyes, and i smile down at him.

"of course, i don't mind at all."

she nods and squeezes my shoulder lightly. “thank you again, honey. i’ll be back in a few hours, you’re welcome to the lemonade i made.”

i nod at mrs. styles as she grabs a small basket of laundry from a nearby chair, and heads out of the house. the sound of the door shutting echoes through the small house, and i walk over to the nearby couch and sit down.

elijah is quiet in my arms, and slowly begins to drift off to sleep.

i sit there for a few minutes, the baby’s soft breathing the only thing to break the comfortable silence. i gently rock him in my arms, watching as his eyelashes flutter against his soft cheeks, while he sleeps. the afternoon sunlight pours through the windows, warm and soft against my skin.

mr. styles shuts the door behind him and takes a step further into the house, not noticing me right away.

he is wearing a simple cotton shirt and tan brown pants with a hat perched atop his head. dust follows each step as his boots move across the wood floor. he turns to me, his green eyes quickly find my own in surprise.

“what are you doing here?” his deep voice rumbles through the air, filling the room. i shift uncomfortably on the couch, still holding the baby close to my chest.

i can feel my cheeks flush under his intense gaze. “mrs. styles asked me to watch elijah for her while she does some laundry and runs some errands.” i look down at the sleeping baby in my arms, my heart racing.

mr. styles walks closer to me, his footsteps loud against the wooden floor. he comes to a stop in front of me, his tall figure looming over me.

he doesn't say anything, and for a few moments he just stands there, studying me. i can feel his eyes on me, and my heart starts to pound against my chest.

“well alright then…” he nods and takes his hat off, placing it atop the coat rack.

he stands there momentarily before walking over to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. he takes a few sips before turning back to me, leaning against the kitchen counter.

i assume by his rugged appearance that mr. styles had just finished his work for the day. my mother has told me that he is a cattle rancher, and works on their ranch for hours a day.

my eyes stay on the baby cradled in my arms, keenly aware of mr. styles' gaze on me. he sets his glass down and walks closer, stopping about a foot away from me. he glances at the baby, who is currently sleeping against my chest.

“he’s out like a light. you can go set him down in the crib.” he nods towards the wooden crib on the side of the room.

i nod, and slowly stand. i walk over to the crib and gently lay the sleeping baby down. he shifts slightly, but soon relaxes back into a deep sleep. i look down at him, watching his delicate little face as he breathes slowly.

i turn around to find mr. styles still watching me with a serious expression on his face. his arms are crossed, and his green eyes are intense.

"you're a shy thing, aren't you?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

i feel my cheeks heat up, and i look down at the dusty hem of my dress. “yeah, i guess so," i nod.

mr. styles nods, and takes a step closer to me. “hm… this is a pretty small town, aint it? must not be a lot of others around your age.”

i nod, still looking down at my dress. “yeah, it is pretty small. i don’t know many people my age.”

he hums and looks down at me for a second. my body freezes up when i feel his rough hands grab my jaw lightly. he tilts my head up so i’m looking at him.

“well you’re definitely a pretty thing.” he says looking down at me.

i can feel my cheeks flush even more at his words. i look away, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“thank you…” i mumble, feeling my heart race in my chest.

“you don’t have to be so nervous around me, i don’t bite.” he says roughly. i nod, my cheeks still flushed.

“i know, i just…” i trail off, looking away from him. he hums and nods, letting go of my chin.

"uh… is there anything else i can help you with?" i ask quickly, trying to change the topic.

mr. styles looks at me for a moment before nodding. he holds his hand up and motions for me to walk over to him.

“maybe there is… c'mere darling.”

i hesitate for a moment, unsure of what he wants me to do. i look down at my hands, which are still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. i take a deep breath and slowly walk over to him, stopping just in front of him.

mr. styles looks up at me, his green eyes intense. he leans back against the sofa and lets his legs open comfortably. he looks at me for a second, his eyes trailing over me. i can feel my heart pounding in my chest as he studies me.

"you know," he speaks, his voice low and rough. "ever since my wife had the baby, i've been feeling less and less satisfied."

i listen as he speaks. i'm not sure what he means, but his words make me feel uneasy. i look down at my hands, trying to avoid his gaze.

"i don't understand, sir," i say, my voice barely above a whisper.

he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that makes me slightly uneasy. "i'm not surprised, darling. you're young and naive."

i feel my cheeks burn at his words. i'm not sure what he's getting at, but i know it's not appropriate. i take a step back, trying to put some distance between us.

"uh- maybe we should just wait until mrs. styles gets home-" i say nervously, trying to deflect the tension that's building in the room.

mr. styles raises an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving mine. "oh, i think we can handle things just fine without her," he says, his voice dripping with an unsettling confidence. he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locked on mine.

i take another step back, trying to put even more distance between us. "i-i don't think that's appropriate, sir," i stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

he hums again, his eyes never leaving mine. “oh, relax, darling," he says. he holds his hand out and motions for me to step closer to him. “i know what i’m doing, and i know how much you like to help, you’re a sweet girl.”

i hesitate, unsure of what to do.. mr. styles' gaze is fixed on me, and i can feel his intensity like a palpable force.

i nod and carefully step forward again so i’m standing just in front of him. he smiles a little and reaches up to take a hold of my hips, pulling me to stand between his legs.

l my heart pounds in my chest as he looks up at me, his gaze intense. he leans forward, his breath hot against my neck as he whispers, “hm, you’re a good girl, aren't you?"

i swallow hard, my throat dry, and i nod hesitantly.

he hums in approval and leans back against the sofa, his hands still on my hips. "good," he says, his voice low. "now, i want you to help me with something."

his fingers tighten around my hips, and i can feel his thumbs digging into my skin. i try to take a step back, but his grip is firm.

"w-what is it, sir?" i stammer, trying to hide the blush creeping up my face. mr. styles' gaze never wavers, his eyes fixed on mine with an unnerving intensity.

"i want you to help me…relax," he says, with an innocent look on his face.

“you know, i wouldn’t normally ask you, as this is my wife’s job,” he sighs and looks up at me. “but, she is just so exhausted with the baby…”

i try to nod sympathetically, but my mind is racing with alarm bells. this is not right. men aren’t supposed to touch me this way- especially since i’m not married.

mr. styles' hands tighten around my hips, and i feel a jolt of fear. i try to take a step back, but his grip is firm. he's not letting me go.

“…how can i help?" i mumble nervously, looking up to meet his eyes.

mr. styles smirks, his grip on my hips tightening. "can you kneel on the floor for me, darling?"

i hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. i know this is wrong, but i can't seem to find the words to refuse him. i slowly lower myself to my knees, my eyes never leaving his.

mr. styles hums in approval, his hands moving from my hips to cup my jaw as he watches me.

i feel the nerves run through me as his thumb brushes against my bottom lip. "good girl," he murmurs and looks down at me.

my heart races in my chest as i look up at him, my eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

mr. styles traces my lips with his thumb as he speaks, "i want you to take care of me, darling. can you do that for me?"

i swallow hard, my throat dry as i nod my head. “h-how?”

“it’s alright," he whispers. "i'll show you." his hands move from my jaw to his pants, his fingers quickly unbuttoning the top of them.

my eyes widen in shock and fear as he does this. i shake my head and try to get up from the floor. “no- mr. styles this is very inappropriate”

mr. styles shakes his head. “oh, darling, there’s nothing wrong in helping a friend. you don’t want my wife to tire out, do you?.”

“i don’t know if this is right.” i look at him nervously and try to pull away.

“oh but you’re so sweet,” he hums and traces my jaw with his thumb. “just try sweetheart, can you try?”

i hesitate, looking into his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. i feel a mixture of fear and confusion, unsure of what to do. i take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and nod my head.

mr. styles smiles, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction. “good girl,” he murmurs. he pulls me closer to him, his legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

his hands reach down into his trousers as he pulls out his length. my eyes widen in shock, and my face instantly flushes in shame. i try to look away, but he grabs my jaw and turns be back to him.

he spits into his hand and strokes himself slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. i try to speak, to tell him to stop, but my voice is caught in my throat. my mind is racing, trying to process what is happening, but i'm frozen in place, unable to move or speak.

"give me your hand, y/n" he says, holding out his hand expectantly. i hesitate, unsure of what to do, but his gaze is intense, as if daring me to refuse. my heart racing, i slowly reach out, my hand trembling as i place it in his.

mr. styles' fingers wrap around mine, his grip firm as he guides my hand towards him. i try to pull back, but he holds tight, his eyes never leaving mine. my face flushes even more as i realize what he wants me to do. i try to shake my head, to tell him no, but my voice is still caught in my throat.

"come on, darling," he says. "just a little help."

he moves my hand and puts it around his length, his own hand wrapping around mine to keep it in place.

mr. styles lets out a low groan, his eyes closing as he leans back against the wall. "that's it, darling," he murmurs. “move it up and down- just like that.”

i feel a surge of shame and embarrassment as i'm forced to comply, my hand moving slowly along his length. he tugs my hand along his cock, guiding me into a slow, rhythmic motion.

his pupils are dilated, and his breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling with each stroke. i can feel my heart racing, pounding in my chest like a drum, as i struggle to process what's happening.

"oh fuck," he groans out. "such a good girl."

his grip tightens around my hand, his fingers digging into my skin as he guides me into a faster rhythm. i can feel him growing harder in my hand, his length pulsing with each stroke.

"you like helping, don't you?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

my face flushes with embarrassment. “i- i don’t know," i say, my voice barely above a whisper.

he hums, his grip tightening around my hand. “do you want to help me relax even more?”

i hesitate, unsure of what he means. i can feel my heart racing, my face flushed with embarrassment. “h-how?”

mr. styles sees my hesitation and smirks. “oh, darling, don't worry. i'll show you.” he leans back against the couch, watching me with a blissed expression on his face. “can you to take me in your mouth? oh, I know you can darling, you’re such a good listener.”

my heart is racing, pounding in my chest like a drum, as i struggle to process what's happening. i feel a surge of shame and embarrassment, my face flushing with heat. i try to shake my head, to tell him no, but my voice is still caught in my throat.

mr. styles' grip tightens around my hand, his fingers digging into my skin as he guides me into a faster rhythm. i can feel his length pulsing with each stroke.

“yes, be a good girl and wrap your lips around the tip for me, darling.” he moves his hand away from my own and puts his hand against the back of my head. he gently nudges me forward to take him in my mouth.

my nose crinkles up in slight disgust at the thought of doing it, but i don’t want to do anything wrong. what if he’s right? what if mrs. styles really does need me to help? she’s such a sweet lady, i wouldn’t want her to tire out… especially since she just had a child…

i hesitate for a moment, but mr. styles' grip on my head tightens, and he guides me closer to him. i can feel his length pulsing in my hand, and i know that i have no choice but to comply.

i take a deep breath and slowly lean forward, my lips parting as i take the tip of his cock into my mouth.

his thick length pulses against my tongue, and i try to focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the shame and embarrassment that washes over me.

mr. styles lets out a low groan, his grip tightening around my head as he guides me further onto him. "oh, darling," he murmurs, his voice raspy. "you're doing so well, can you suck the tip for me?"

i hesitate for a moment, my mind racing with thoughts of what i'm doing and the sins i’m committing. i try to think of mrs. styles, of how she needs me to help, but my conscience is screaming at me to stop.

hesitantly i tighten my lips around the head of his cock and suck it into my mouth. mr. styles' eyes flutter closed, his chest rising and falling with each stroke. his fingers dig deeper into my scalp, holding me in place as he begins to rock his hips gently.

"oh, yes," he groans in pleasure, his hips buck up desperately. "just like that, darling. you're perfect."

mr. styles' grip tightens around my head, his fingers digging into my scalp as he guides me further onto him. i try to pull back, to take a breath, but he holds me in place, his grip firm.

"good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "open up that throat for me, just relax." my eyes fill up with tears, and i gag as his cock hits the back of my throat.

mr. styles' grip tightens around my head, his fingers digging deeper into my scalp as he holds me in place. i try to pull back, but he's too strong.

"relax, darling," he whispers. "you're doing so well. just a little more."

i try to nod, but my head is locked in place by his grip. suddenly, he pushes me down further, and i feel his cock hit the back of my throat again.

tears stream down my face as i gag, my body involuntarily trying to expel the intrusion. mr. styles' fingers dig deeper into my scalp, holding me firm as he begins to rock his hips in a slow rhythm.

before i can register what’s happening, mr. styles grabs the back of my head and pulls me off his cock unexpectadely.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, was that too much?” he hums and presses a kiss to my forehead. the sweet gesture was a complete change from the harsh movements he did just moments before.

i gasp for air, my chest heaving as i try to catch my breath.

“you did so well, darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “i’m so proud of you.”

i nod weakly, my throat still sore from the intrusion.

mr. styles smiles at me, his eyes soft and gentle. "come here,"

he picks me up and places me on his lap so i'm straddling his legs. I can feel his cock pressing against my stomach, and I try to ignore the complete embarrassment I feel. everything that just happened goes against everything my mother and father taught me.

mr. styles leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear. “are you alright?" he tilts his head and looks at me with a soft expression.

“i’m okay…” i nod weakly, unable to speak much after the sharp pain. mr. styles' eyes lock onto mine, his gaze piercing as he inspects me.

"you're doing great, darling," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "i know it's a lot to take in, but you're doing so well." his words are laced with a soothing tone, but they only make me feel more ashamed. “you’re being so helpful.”

“hm… is your poor throat all swollen? i’m sorry sweetheart.” he hums and presses a kiss to the side of my neck. “you know what? i think i have something that’ll make you feel better.”

i hesitate for a moment, looking up at him with glassy eyes. maybe he didn’t mean to hurt me…

“okay…” i whisper. he leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear once more.

“i knew you would be a good girl,” he murmurs.

he reaches down and picks me up, laying me down on the sofa. i feel a rush of fear as he moves to sit between my legs. my eyes widen at the vulnerable position, and i instantly shut my legs, trying to protect myself from his prying eyes. he’s not my husband, and i shouldn’t be in this position with him.

mr. styles' eyes sparkle with amusement as he gently pries my legs open, his hands warm against my skin. i try to resist, but he's too strong, and soon my legs are splayed open, exposing me to his gaze.

"shh be good f'me. i need your help, remember sweetheart?" he hums and pushes my thighs apart completely. his eyes darken when his gaze reaches my core.

i feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me as he takes in every detail of my body. his gaze lingers on the most intimate parts of me, and i can feel my face burning with shame. i try to close my legs again, but he holds them firm, his grip gentle yet unyielding.

"no, no, darling," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "we're not done yet. we need to take care of you."

his eyes linger on the most intimate parts of me, and i can feel my face burning with shame.

"so fucking pretty," he groans at the sight of my cunt that's now completely exposed to him. "nobody's touched you here before, have they?"

i try to shake my head, but it feels like it's stuck in place. mr. styles' eyes sparkle with excitement as he takes in every detail of my body.

his rough calloused hands run down my thighs and meet at my core. mr. styles smirks and traces his thumb along my cunt.

"hm... what about you sweetheart? have you ever played with yourself before?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

i shake my head, my face burning with embarrassment. i've never even touched myself there before, let alone let someone else do it. “n-no! of course not, that’s wrong.”

mr. styles smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. “good. this is just f’me to touch, you understand?” he moves his eyes away from the spot between my legs to meet my eyes. i nod hesitantly, unsure of what i'm agreeing to, but too scared to say no.

his gaze holds mine for a moment, then drops back down to the spot between my legs. his fingers hover over my core, and i can feel my heart racing in my chest. i try to close my legs again, but he holds them firm, his grip gentle yet unyielding.

i take a deep breath and try to relax, but my body remains tense. mr. styles' eyes never leave my face as he gently pushes my jaw open with his hand. he then slides two of his fingers into my mouth, and i can taste the salty tang of his skin.

“get them nice and wet, darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. i hesitate for a moment before i begin to suck on his fingers, coating them in saliva.

mr. styles' eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches me, his gaze never leaving my face. i try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps wandering back to the uncomfortable position i'm in.

suddenly, he pushes his fingers back, hitting the back of my throat, and i gag. the feeling is overwhelming, and i try to pull away, but he holds his fingers firm. mr. styles smirks and pulls his fingers out.

“oh, i'm sorry sweetheart, that was mean of me,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "we’re going to have to work on that gagging of yours later, aren’t we?”

he moves his hand away from my mouth to my core. he runs his middle and ring finger teasingly along my slit, nudging my clit for a second. my eyes widen at the sensation, and i sit up. “what- what was that?”

mr. styles smirks, his eyes never leaving mine. “that, my dear, is what it feels like to be touched by a man.” he continues to tease my clit, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles.

i gasp, my body trembling beneath his touch. it feels weird but not bad. it doesn’t hurt like it did before. he presses tight circles against my clit. his gaze is focused on the scene before him.

his fingers dance across my skin, sending shivers down my spine. i try to process what's happening, but my mind is a jumbled mess. i feel exposed and vulnerable, yet somehow, i'm drawn to the sensation. my body begins to respond, my hips subtly rocking against his fingers.

"ah… there we go. you like that?" he chuckles and presses his thumb against my bundle of nerves. i gasp, my body tensing up as a wave of pleasure washes over me. my face flushes with embarrassment, and i look away from his eyes

i can feel my heart racing in my chest as he continues to touch me. his fingers move in slow, deliberate circles. i can feel myself growing wetter, and i'm both embarrassed and confused by my body's reaction.

mr. styles leans in closer, his breath hot against my skin. "you're so beautiful when you're like this," he murmurs, his voice low. "so innocent and pure.”

he holds out his hand to my mouth again and nods his head to it. “spit.”

i hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. but mr. styles' gaze holds mine, his eyes glinting with amusement. i can feel my face burning with embarrassment as i slowly part my lips and let my saliva fall onto his palm.

he smirks, his eyes never leaving mine, as he brings his fingers back down to my core. mr. styles' fingers slide back into my slit, and he begins to tease my clit once more.

i gasp, my body trembling beneath his touch. his gaze holds mine, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watches me struggle to process the sensations coursing through my body.

"take a deep breath, darling," he says before i feel one of his thick fingers push past my tight entrance. i tense up, my body protesting the intrusion, but mr. styles' grip on my thighs remains firm. his finger slides in deeper, and i can feel my walls clenching around it.

"oh, you're so tight," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "i can barely fit a finger." his eyes never leave mine as he begins to move his finger in slow strokes.

"relax, darling," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "let me show you how good it can feel." his finger push deeper, and i can feel my core tighten beneath his touch.

mr. styles' eyes stay glued to mine as he watches my body react. my body begins responding, my hips subtly rocking against his hand. the sensation is strange, yet somehow, i find myself craving more.

"that's it, darling,” he hums and uses his free hand to rub my hip softly. “stop resisting."

i gasp as he adds a second finger, my body stretching to accommodate him. my heart races in my chest as he moves his fingers up to his knuckles.

"oh, you're so tight," he groans, his eyes never leaving mine. “i should’ve fucked a virgin a long time ago.”

his words make my face flush with embarassment as he continues to move his fingers inside me. my body responds to his touch despite my mind's protests.

mr. styles' fingers push in and out of me, his movements slow and calculated. i can feel my walls clenching around him, trying to accommodate his thick fingers.

suddenly, he stops moving his fingers, leaving them deep inside me. i feel a pang of disappointment, my body craving more of the strange sensation.

he chuckles and pulls his fingers out to hold my thighs open again. “don’t you worry, darling. i have something that’ll be a lot better.”

his eyes glint with amusement as he moves one of his hands to hold the base of his cock, moving to press the tip of it against my clit teasingly. i gasp, my hips bucking up at the sudden contact. his cock is warm and smooth, compared to the rough cold skin of his fingers.

"oh, you're so sensitive," he murmurs. "i love it." his eyes never leave mine as he continues to tease me, his cock brushing against my clit with every movement.

i try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. my body is screaming for more, but my mind is still reeling from how wrong this feels. i shouldn’t be doing this when i’m not married- let alone with a married man!

“mr. styles-” i'm cut off by him pressing the head of his length to my entrance.

"shh, no more mr. styles. when i touch you like this you be respectful and call me daddy, alright?" he says roughly and squeezes my hip.

my eyes widen in shock, and i feel my face flush with embarrassment when i hear that. i shake my head, my mind reeling from the demand.

"what?" i manage to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

mr. styles' grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin. "you heard me, darling," he says, his eyes sharp as he watches me. "when we're like this, you call me daddy. it's only respectful."

i feel a surge of defiance rise up within me, but it's quickly quashed by the sensation of his cock still pressed teasingly against my entrance.

mr. styles' grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin as he speaks. "say, yes daddy, or else i'm going to have to tell your mother and father what a disrespectful brat you are." he says roughly.

my eyes widen in shock, and i feel my face flush with embarrassment at the threat. i try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. mr. styles' eyes narrow, his gaze piercing as he waits for my response.

"yes…daddy," i stammer, the words feeling foreign and inappropriate on my lips.

"see? good girl," he nods at my words and holds the base of his cock again, lining it up with my cunt. "deep breath for me…"

i feel my body tense up, my heart racing in my chest as i try to process what's happening. his cock is warm and smooth, but it's also thick and intimidating. i can feel my walls stretching to accommodate him, a burning sensation spreading through my core.

"relax, darling," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

his cock inches inside of me, and i can feel my walls stretching to accommodate him. "oh fuck-"

he groans out and closes his eyes for a second as he inches inside of me. his eyes snap back open, and he gazes at me, his pupils dilated with desire.

he pauses for a moment, his cock lodged halfway inside me. i can feel my body trembling beneath him, my heart racing in my chest.

"you're so tight," he moans and presses squeezes my hips tightly, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me in place. "i can barely fit."

i try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. "mr. styles-" he cuts me off by giving a light slap to my thigh.

"no. what do you call me?" he demands, his eyes flashing with a mixture of desire and authority. i feel a surge of embarrassment wash over me, but i swallow it back and meet his eyes.

"daddy," i mumble, my voice barely audible.

"good girl," he murmurs. mr. styles' grip on my hips loosens slightly, and he nods in approval. he inches his cock further inside me, and i feel my walls stretching to accommodate him. the burning sensation intensifies, and i let out a gasp of pain and growing pleasure.

mr. styles' eyes never leave mine as he slowly thrusts his cock to the hilt, his hips pressing against mine.

my body trembles beneath him, my heart racing in my chest. the burning sensation intensifies, and i let out a gasp of pain and growing pleasure.

"oh shit-" he groans, his voice low and husky, "i won't last long with how fucking tight you are." he slowly drags his cock out so just the tip is inside, and for a moment, i feel a sense of relief wash over me. but without giving me much time to recover, he starts pushing in again, his cock sliding deeper into me.

the burning sensation intensifying as he buries himself inside me. mr. styles' eyes never leave mine as he starts to thrust, his hips moving in calculated strokes. i can feel his cock pulsing inside me, and i try to push back against him, but he holds me in place, his grip on my hips like a vice.

"daddy," i stammer, the word feeling foreign and wrong on my lips, but he seems to like it, his eyes flashing with desire as he hears it. he starts to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, and i can feel my body responding, my pleasure building despite the initial pain.

“see? it can feel so good if you stop resisting," he pants out in pleasure and continues moving his cock inside me. his words are laced with a mixture of desire and authority.

“so fucking young and pretty…” he mutters under his breath. his hips continue snapping up to meet mine, our arousal and the humidity of a hot summers day leave the skin between us sticky.

mr. styles groans and closes his eyes in pleasure as he thrusts his thick cock as deep as he can. my hips slowly move against his in a desperate search for any pleasure.

despite the rough and painful start, pleasure begins filling my body and i’m left reaching for the sensations he gave me previously.

he notices my frustrated expression and smirks for a second. “oh i’m sorry darlin, can’t leave ya hanging.”

mr. styles chuckles and uses his thumb to rub tight circles on my throbbing bundle of nerves. his gaze is piercing as he watches me struggle to accommodate his length. my walls clench desperately around him, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion.

“fuck darling, you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya? you’re practically suffocating me.” he mumbles and quickens his thrusts as he approaches his own release. his grip on my hips tightens, and he slams into me with a force that takes my breath away.

his cock pulses against my walls and my body responds to his, the pleasure building until it’s too much to bear.

“daddy please-“ i whimper out and grab his shoulders for support as the unfamiliar feelings flush through my body.

“that’s it, cum for me.” he smirks and rubs my clit quicker, his thumb pressing down harder on my sensitive nub. my body shudders and convulses as the orgasm crashes over me, my walls clenching around his cock as he continues to thrust.

mr. styles groans and his thrusts become erratic, his cock pulsing inside me as he reaches his own climax. his grip on my hips tightens and he buries himself inside me, his hips snapping up to meet mine as he empties himself inside me.

for a moment, we stay like that, our bodies still connected as we catch our breath.

mr. styles finally pulls out, leaving me feeling empty and exposed. i watch as he tucks himself back into his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. he walks over to the small wooden table and grabs a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a long drag.

"get fixed before the wife gets back," he says, his voice gruff and emotionless. he walks over to the door, putting his hat back on and going back out to the ranch. “i have work to do.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

👀

xoxo

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