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joelsgreys · 6 months

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strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

#tw daddy kink #tw: daddy kink #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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dejwrld · 3 months

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⤷‧₊˚ hiromi higuruma helps his bratty sub study for her bar exam.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — black reader with descriptors, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, usage of y/n, reader is a law student, mentions of reader being the child of a judge, mentions of law, dom!hiromi, sub!reader, reader described to be very feminine and bratty, no cursed au, dom x sub dynamic, usage of toys (vibrating panties), oral (reader receiving), pet names (good girl, doll), mentions of pubes, praise kink (academical), bonus after care scene, written in third pov (hiromi’s), mdni

sticky note from deja — sometimes i think about dom hiromi higuruma and just sigh happily.

Hiromi passed his bar exam with flying colors. He didn’t do study groups. Simply studied alone and prioritized his time to balance being a law clerk, studying, and socializing to ensure a law firm hired him. But this woman didn’t do any of that and frankly, he was even shocked that she still wanted to pursue law at all. She graduated from law school with a high GPA, and wonderful recommendations from amazing professors, and her father was a prominent judge. Many can assume that her pretty looks and her legacy surname got her where she is today, but Hiromi has observed her in her element and when she was in her element she was a beast.

So the older lawyer had no clue why she came to him with law books in her arm, her tote bag slung on her shoulders—tight coils sprawled on her head like a crown, and a tight suede tracksuit on as if she was stepping into her law class. But of course, when she had a problem, she came to him. When she needed a quick nut, she came to him. Needing someone to vent about when it came to her class rival, she came to him. Now it seemed she needed help studying for the exam and who did she come to, him.

But as an hour and thirty minutes went by, the young woman was not soaking up the information that Hiromi was going over. His eyes bored into the notebook, flashcards, and textbooks scattered across his desk. She watches as she twirls her pink pen around her fingers reading over the notes she jolted down, but he can just tell by the crinkle of her eyebrows that the information wasn’t going through that thick skull of hers. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe she knew the information because she did. But he doubted she’d remember it for the exam. He leaned back into his comfortable black desk chair trying to rack his brain with a better studying technique before eventually he got an idea. An imaginary light bulb lit up over the top of the lawyer’s head.

“I think I have an idea.” He spoke out, causing her to stop her highlighting—which he was hoping she would do because the scent of the highlighter was already giving him a headache simply because she just had to have scented ones.

This one smells like strawberries, smell it? Those were her exact words forty-five minutes ago as he was going over some laws on family laws.

“Will it help me feel like the information I’m consuming is sticking and staying in my brain?”

“Possibly,” was the only thing Hiromi answered before pulling himself out of his seat and disappearing from his office.

It was three things the woman that sat across from him enjoyed. Shopping, her father’s credit card, and sexual pleasure. If Hiromi had any more knowledge of psychology, he would have labeled Y/N as a nymphomaniac.

When returned with the red velvet box, he sat the box on the table and she perked up happily, possibly thinking that this was a sparkly diamond necklace for her.

“A gift? Aw, this definitely will help.” Her plush glossed lips spread into a smile. She claps her hands together in excitement sitting up in the chair.

“It’s not a necklace, doll.” He points out. She opened the box revealing the black lace underwear that had a vibrator inside of them.

He was going to use these at their anniversary dinner as a sub and dog duo, but he guessed he had to come up with another idea to make their dinner interesting. His gloomy eyes watched as her eyes lit up like fuckin’ fireworks. His assumption was right. He watches as she simply stands up ready to remove her underwear eagerly.

“I do think a quick sex session will help me focus a bit more. This is why I came to you. At first, I was going to join that one guy who knows Nanami's study group, but in my mind—I just knew you would have a better study idea.” She giggled as her hand went to untie her tracksuit bottoms to change into the other panties.

“No, we’re not doing that. Put the panties on and sit back down.” He scattered around his desk to give her time to change into the vibrating panties.

He thought she was going to argue against what he said, but she didn’t. As quiet as can be, she’s shuffling to remove her underwear and replace it with the sexual treat that Hiromi graced upon her. While she changed, Hiromi was looking for the notebook that he used when he was studying for his bar exam. He knew it had a bunch of mock bar exam questions on there and thought they would help. When he found the book, he walked back to his desk and Y/N sat patiently waiting for him, she went back to reading her textbook without a care.

Hiromi removed the box from the table, placing it on the ledge behind him after he grabbed the remote. He slammed the notebook on the table that looked like it’s been through centuries of war. He liked keeping it because it showed how far he had come from a law student to one of the best lawyers in the city. He skimmed through the pages before finding a page he wanted to start on.

“A defendant is being prosecuted for conspiracy to possess methamphetamine with intent to distribute. At trial, the government seeks to have its agent testify to a conversation that he overheard between the defendant and a co-conspirator regarding the incoming shipment of a large quantity of methamphetamine. That conversation was also audiotaped, though critical portions of it are inaudible. The defendant objects to the testimony of the agent on the ground that it is not the best evidence of the conversation.” He pauses briefly to look at Y/N across from him. “Is the testimony of the agent admissible?”

He watches as she brings her French tip manicured finger to her chin to think. He had a feeling she knew the answer, she told him about the paper she had done about admissible evidence. But as he watches her shoulders go upward and downward in an ‘I don’t know’ manner, Hiromi lets out a sigh before pressing the remote. The silence in his office was disrupted by the sound of the vibration. He watches as she jerks forward provocatively. He leans back in his seat.

“You know the answer to this, stop being a smart ass.” Hiromi’s slender fingers toyed with the small remote watching as she was withering forward in attempting to mask her moan.

“It’ll be admissible,” She breathes out.

“Why?” Hiromi asked.

For a quick second, he can see a glint of sexual frustration in her eyes. This was the first sexual encounter in a while due to him restricting them from it. He had a huge case coming up and she had to study for the bar exam. Sex would cloud their judgment on the tasks they had to do.

“The best evidence rule does not require proof of the conversation through the audiotape.”

He presses the button on the remote making the vibrator stop. “Good girl. I knew you knew that.” His lips crack a smile and he watches as she recomposes herself.

“Next question.” Hiromi flips through the pages in his notebook. “Hypothetically thinking, say a person broke into a closed building to solely seek refuge due to a snowstorm. Can this person be convicted of burglary if that’s her defense?” His fingers were itching to press the button, but he had to hear her answer first.

“No.”

“Why? Come on baby, you know they’re going to ask why?”

“I’m not sure, let me think.”

It didn’t take long before Hiromi pressed the button. Her moans echoed within the study while clasping her thighs closed to engulf the sudden vibration from the panties she wore. She falls back into the seat across from him and her body arches off of it briefly before she’s finally croaking out an explanation.

“Burglary requires the intent to commit a crime upon entering a building and seeking shelter from a storm is not a criminal act. So, this hypothetical person can validate her claim.”

“That’s right. You’re doing amazing with these questions. Just need it to stick in your brain, that’s all.” He reassures Y/N with a smile.

The quizzing went on for about thirty minutes, but Hiromi had lost track of time when he felt how tight his cock felt in his slacks. He was sure she had orgasmed multiple times from the vibrating panties just by the way her eyes drooped, her body slouching in the leather seat she was in, and the fact that he could see her hardened nipples through the sports bra after she had unzipped the hoodie of her tracksuit. She had this tendency where if he wasn’t touching her during little sessions, she had to touch herself. Which she did, right across from him—each time he flicked the remove on causing the vibrating on her pussy, she'd pinch her marbled nipples while uttering out a response to a random law question.

“I think you deserve a break for today. You still have the weekend to study,” He pointed out as he tossed the remote back into its box. “Come here.”

She’s hesitant at first and Hiromi can tell just by the way her lips part to argue and her eyebrows frown together. She wasn’t sure if she should cave and come forward or stay put just to feel the vibrating in between her thighs again. She knew that he knew she always defied him in some way just to get a rise out of him, but today—it seems her head was screwed on right. After all, Hiromi didn’t have to help Y/N study. Helping her study wasn’t a part of the contract, but he did—in such an odd sexy manner that caused her to be soaked between her thighs.

As she tiptoed around the wooden desk, she was peeling off her clothes so provocatively that Hiromi couldn’t help but swallow the harsh knot that formed in his throat. He couldn’t wait for himself to be buried so far in between her sumptuous thighs that the only thing he could smell on his top lip was her essence. Hiromi spread his muscular thighs so that she could take place between them—looking down at him like she was Aphrodite and he was a man that she had just placed under a spell due to her elegance. His hand grabs her waist letting his hands caress every bump and curve of her body that he was obsessed with. From the stretch marks that decorate her mahogany skin to the small mole that was right near her belly button.

“You drive me fuckin’ insane,” Hiromi finds himself saying. His dark eyes scan at how her lips spread into a grin.

He grabs her, placing her on his desk without a sweat. The sound of textbooks and notebooks echoed through the office as he pulled himself further under the table. Her legs gaped so provocatively that in Hiromi’s mind, the Lady Justice statue on the shelf on his left probably wanted to clutch her pearls. Hiromi placed subtle kisses on her legs starting from her ankle which was decorated bejeweled with a diamond anklet.

“You’re stalling. You know how much I want you right now, and you’re stalling.” The law student breathes as she leans back on the weight of her arms.

Hiromi watches as her chest begins to rise rapidly with each kiss growing closer to her pussy. Her words went into one ear and out the other for the lawyer and when he was finally face to face with what his mouth salivated for, his eyes met with hers. Her eyes were pleading for something. A kiss. A nibble. A lick. Hell, even a blow. Anything to soothe the aching feeling on her clit. Y/N’s hand went down to palm at the wetness in between her thighs, so eager and impatient—but the stern lawyer stopped her.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself, Y/N.” He commands.

And there goes the tone she was longing for. Oh, that authoritarian tone that made her pussy clench when he used it. She relaxes under his touch and lets him do his work. “If you’re going to take so long, I might as well finish off by myself.” Y/N comments.

“You talk so much, do you love hearing yourself talk?”

“And you are doing so much talking for a man whose mouth should be stuffed with my pus—”

Her words were interrupted by the feeling of Hiromi’s tongue dragging upon her panties. He pulled them to the side swiftly and finally was granted what he wanted all along. The flat of his tongue licks up her pussy lips collecting her juices like a man that was deprived of water for days. He moans at the taste of her and his hands grab at her waist to pull her closer. His eyes flutter close as he’s lapping at her puffy pussy lips at the sound of her moans. Her fingers entangled in his hair as her hips grind against his face. She wasn’t sure what was turning her on more. The way his face was buried into her pussy or how attractive it looked as his nose was nuzzling against her pubes.

“Fuck.” She moans out, her toes curling at the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit.

Hiromi detaches himself from her briefly, peppering soft kisses on her trembling thighs before devouring her whole again. The thing about Hiromi is that he knew how her body would react to certain things. He knew how her pussy clenched around his cock when he gave her neck a little squeeze. He knew that she was in between a squirter and creamer depending on the task. Squirting when he’s fingering her with a vibrator practically glued upon her clit. Creamer when he’s forcing orgasm after orgasm out of her after begging him to cum inside her (but to Hiromi, having his cum inside her is merely a privilege). So of course, he knew using his tongue to trace alongside the drooling entrance of her pussy was going to have her pushing herself forward for more. The mere feeling of his tongue invading her in such a manner that had her a trembling and whimpering mess was something Hiromi knew about her.

Hiromi lets out a moan at how good she tastes. The taste of Y/N has graced his tongue countless times and he still ate her out as if it was the best meal he has tasted. With each squirm in his arms, he’s flicking his tongue slower on her clit. With each moan of his name that slips by her plush lips, he’s granting her more licks and sucks. He wanted to see her come undone right here. He could feel it just by the way her thighs were poorly attempting to entrap his head by shutting them.

He lets out an annoyed sigh after he removes himself from her pussy, “Do you want to cum, Y/N?”

“I do. I want to cum.” She whines.

“Then fuckin’ act like it.”

Y/N obediently nods, her snarky comment jammed into her throat before she let Hiromi spread her thighs even wider than what they were before. Her clit throbbing to be in his mouth again and he graciously granted her wish. Like a deprived man, Hiromi snuggled his nose back into her pubes as if he belonged there. Y/N was aware that Hiromi knew she was about to cum. He had this tendency to hold onto her as if she would turn into dust in his arms—as if he didn’t want to let her go. That’s what he was currently doing as her orgasm was spilling over. One hand gripping her in place (that she knew would leave a bruise) and the other palming his hardened cock through his pants.

Just with the flick of his tongue, an explosive feeling causes Y/N to let out a dragged-out moan. Her back lays back on the desk as Hiromi’s tongue helps her ride out the orgasm. Her French pedicured toes curl at the feeling of that fiery pit in her stomach shattering so intensely it brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers tugged at his black strands of hair as if they were a handle holding her up from falling. When she heard him remove himself from her with a pop, Hiromi leaned back in his seat with a huge satisfied grin on his face.

After Y/N came down from the euphoria of cumming in Hiromi’s mouth, she sat up on her elbows with a pleased look on her face. She knew after any sexual intercourse with the high-profile lawyer, he just had to include aftercare in the special package. He may have gotten off at the thought of seeing her tied up with rope, handcuffed to his headboard, or mouth gagged with his cock—but he was very serious when it came to aftercare. The two soon settled for a bath to end the evening. The warmth of the water engulfed their bodies as they were in the large bathtub filled with scented soap and rose petals. Hiromi’s head fell back to be met with the marbled tile and he let out a relaxing sigh, the scent of Y/N lingering on his upper lip and tongue.

“I have a confession to make..” Y/N leans further back on him, relaxing under the warmth of both the water and Hiromi’s body.

“Hm.” He hums lightly letting his eyes flutter back open.

“I’m actually well prepared for the bar exam. Took a practice bar exam a week ago and according to my professor—if it was the real one, I would have passed.” She happily sighs letting her fingers play with the bubbles in the tub.

“What?” Hiromi glares at the back of her head with a displeased look.

“I woke up this morning with a student and tutor sex fantasy, silly.”

“You will be the death of me.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @tojiscumdumpster @salaciousdoll @thithesandofferings @tachibannaa @shinsousliya @sinistersnakey1427 @gothogue @rhionnajones @jamaicanqueenaa @dxmb-luv @0hmyg0th @ryukenzz @dancingwithdeities @getosbunny @hvly @racconwarrer @aiyaaayei @torapologist @strawhatsav @msdrpreist @neesieiumz @strawberrymuffinlovin @consternat1on @photosbyameil

thanks for reading. <3

#hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #female reader #anime x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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reiding-writing · 2 months

Note

sweet Spencer realizing he has feelings for cold!Reader? I'm obsessed

OH NO. [ONESHOT]

/oʊ noʊ/

Spencer makes a (rather terrifying) revelation in relation to his ice-hearted coworker, who might not actually be all that ice-hearted.

WARNINGS: fem!reader

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff?? || 2.3k || series masterlist!

a/n: based on the fact that it was 1°C when i left my house yesterday and i was freezing

main masterlist!!

Sometimes, Spencer Reid hated living in Virginia.

The temperature always felt colder than it did back in Vegas, no matter whether it was in the dead of winter or in the middle of summer, and for someone who didn’t have the best temperature regulation already, that just spelled extra issues for Spencer to deal with on top of everything else.

It was March for god’s sake, why was it only 40 degrees?

He walks into the office bundled up like a newborn baby, with a shirt, a vest, and a coat on, with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and knitted gloves on his hands.

He sits down in his desk chair with all the grace of an elephant trying to do ballet, the chair squeaking under his weight as he basically throws himself into it.

Morgan starts laughing almost immediately. “You look like you’ve just stepped out of Antarctica-”

“It’s cold,”

“It’s not that cold,”

“Those who have issues with temperature regulation are more susceptible to extreme temperature fluctuations when the weather changes,” Spencer rubs his hands together through his gloves in the hope that the kinetic energy will spread through his hands and warm the rest of his body.

“And let me guess, you’re one of those people?” Morgan raises his eyebrow with a smirk.

“Yes Morgan, I’m one of those people,” Spencer’s exasperated response is enough to send Morgan over the edge into laughter.

“Will you quiet down, it’s 8 in the morning for god’s sake,” Your arrival is announced with your usual snark, tiredness still lacing your tone as you walk around the two to reach your own desk opposite Spencer’s and pull a white beanie from your head to stuff it in the pocket of your coat.

“Sorry-”

“Not you Reid,” Despite the fact that you’re dismissing him as the recipient of your annoyance, it still sounds like you’re angry at him.

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” Morgan nudges Spencer like he’s speaking to him privately, but is raised enough that he knows you’ve heard it too. “You would’ve thought she’d be elated, she’s in her element now the temperature’s dropping,”

“I can hear you.” you scoff out your words as you unpack your bag on your desk.

“Oh I know, it’s more fun when you can hear me,” Morgan takes a sip from the mug in his hands with a smirk, leaning back in his chair once he’s decided you’d endured enough of his teasing for now.

You spend the next ten or so minutes in silence as everyone sets themselves up for the day. Everyone except Spencer evidently, who is still sat with all of his outerwear on despite the office being internally heated.

“Will you stop shaking?” Spencer turns his eyes away from his frozen hands at your question, although phrased more like an instruction under your usual tone. “I can see it in my peripheral vision and it’s distracting,”

“Oh um- I’m sorry,” Spencer clutched both of his hands tight together in an attempt to forcibly stop them from shaking.

“Don’t apologise, go make yourself a cup of coffee or something, those gloves aren’t doing anything to help you,”

“Right- Yeah,” Spencer takes your advice with a nod, standing up from his desk to practically run over to the kitchenette like your word was law.

“I know what you’re doing Ice Queen,” Morgan tilts his head knowingly at you as you watch Spencer scamper around the corner and out of sight, and you don’t turn your gaze towards him even after Spencer leaves your field of vision.

“I’m not doing anything,”

“You care about Reid’s well being,” He throws a balled up post-it note in your direction, hitting you in the side of your head and acting as an incentive to look in his direction, shooting daggers at the bridge of his nose. “You can’t hide it from me sweetheart, your icy façade is melting as we speak,”

“Whatever,” You roll your eyes as you stand up from your chair, exiting the conversation with a scoff as you walk around the bullpen and disappear into the unisex bathroom.

You still haven’t returned by the time Spencer walks back to his desk with a steaming mug of coffee cradled in both hands, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly at your empty desk chair as he took his seat.

“She just went to the bathroom genius she hasn’t disappeared off the face of the earth,” Morgan laughs in amusement at Spencer’s expression, staring at your chair like his gaze will magically will you into existence.

Then his vision goes dark, and he can hear Morgan’s laughter escalate. He’s not sure exactly what’s happening at first, but as his wind-chilled ears begin to warm and his eyelashes catch on something as he tries to open his eyes he realises that his vision has been physically obstructed by something.

He pulls up on the material covering his eyes, and like a magic trick, where your chair was empty before you are now sitting in it, head lowered to hide behind the screen of your computer monitor as Morgan continues to chortle at the two of you.

It’s a quick realisation that what was previously covering his eyes was a hat, specifically the white beanie that you’d walked into the office wearing this morning.

“What did I say?” Morgan gestures outwards with his hands like he’d proved some point to you that Spencer was clearly ignorant to.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll pull out all your teeth and do it for you,”

“Ooh I’m so scared, Reid protect me from this absolute monster,” Morgan presses his hand to his chest dramatically, leaning back in his chair with a smirk etched onto his face.

Spencer doesn’t so much as spare Morgan a glance at his comment, blankly staring in your direction as his brain computes what exactly had just happened. He was wearing your hat now? You’d put your hat on his head? You’d walked over, taken your hat, and physically put it on his head?

Under normal circumstances he’s sure he’d die of embarrassment at so much as the thought of having something that personally belonged to you in his possession, let alone be actually wearing something the belonged to you and invaded his olfactory neurons with your scent.

Yet here he was, so absolutely dumbfounded by your actions that he didn’t even have the mental capacity to be embarrassed.

“Reid,” Morgan nudges his shoulder, and Spencer turns to him with wide eyes and a half-absent expression.

“Huh?”

“Wow, look what you did to him, he’s completely shut down,” Morgan throws another balled up post-it in your direction, hitting you in the shoulder this time, and you bite your tongue as you turn your head up to look at the two boys across from you once more.

Your eyes are narrowed as you glare in Morgan’s direction, but he takes no notice of it whatsoever as he gestures towards Spencer with his head, smirking all the while.

Your gaze is substantially softer once your eyes flicker over to the boy sitting opposite you. The hat really seems to complete the whole ‘just stepped out of a blizzard’ look that Spencer’s outfit seemed to radiate, and the bright red of his cheeks seemed to amplify that look tenfold.

“Are you still cold?” You ask the question like you’re annoyed at him, and he takes it as your irritation from Morgan’s constant teasing bleeding into your speech rather than you genuinely being irked by him. After all, you had gone out of your way to help him warm up right? Then again that could’ve been because you just didn’t want to watch him shiver anymore. You did say it was distracting-

“Reid.” He turns his eyes up towards you as you speak his name with all the conviction of an aggrieved high school teacher.

“Yes? I mean- Not ‘yes’ I’m cold- ‘yes’ like I’m paying attention- You know- Uh-” You hold up a hand to stop Spencer from spinning into a spiral as he tries to elaborate on what his response meant.

“You’re not cold anymore?” You keep your eyes trained on him as you ask the question, emphasising it a way that indicated you wanted a straight answer from him and not some half baked explanation of why he was/wasn’t.

“No… Well, my hands are-” Spencer stops himself prematurely with a shake of his head. “No- No I’m not cold anymore, I’m okay now,”

“Your hands are still cold?”

Spencer nods, looking down at his hands sheepishly as if they've betrayed him.

You watch Spencer's hands for a moment before making a decision. With a resigned sigh, you reach into your coat pocket and pull out a small red hand warmer, holding it out over the divide between your desks to offer it to him without a word.

Spencer's eyes widen in surprise as he takes the hand warmer from you, a sinking feeling shooting through his chest as your fingers brush his. But it wasn’t the kind he’d grown accustomed to when speaking to you.

There wasn’t a shred of intimidation or lingering insecurity, it didn’t send a chill down his spine or make him feel the need to curl into himself, it instead left a strangely comfortable warmth in it’s wake, one that was quickly proving to be more useful at warming him up than the gel packet held between his fingertips.

It was a sensation he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually felt before, and his mind couldn’t make up whether it’s origin was the temperature difference in your hands as they brushed each other and the inherent warmth of your hand graced his, or whether it was an internal situation where your silent act of consideration was literally tricking his body into believing it was warmer just as a result of your actions.

Either way, he suddenly felt very warm.

He fumbles with the warmer for a second before tugging off his gloves and snapping the small disk to start the chemical reaction. "Thanks," he murmurs, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Don't mention it," you reply, turning back to your computer screen with complete nonchalance in your tone.

Spencer nods softly at your response, rolling the packet between the palms of his hands as his eyes linger on your face even after you look away.

Spencer’s beginning to be increasingly distracted from his files by thoughts of you. Your hidden kindness, your wit, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way you chew on the end of your pen when you're concentrating, the way your nose scrunches up when you're deep in thought-

He realises, with a jolt, that he's falling for you.

It hits him like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, he's paralysed with a mix of astonishment and fear. How had he not noticed it before? He's never been good at relationships, maybe that’s why. He didn’t exactly know what constituted as real feelings for someone.

Morgan watches the exchange with a smirk, but there's something softer in his expression as he looks between the two of you, specifically towards the puddle of Spencer’s emotions showing all over his face. He clears his throat, breaking the momentary silence.

"Well, now that everyone's warm and cozy, shall we get to work?" he says, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

Spencer nods, already diving into the case file on his desk as a means of desperately trying to get the image of your face and the feeling of your fingers brushing against his hand out of his head. You follow suit, the warmth spreading through the bullpen as you all settle into your routine.

He tries to focus on the case at hand, but his mind keeps wandering back to you. He remembers the feeling of your hand brushing against his, the way his heart had fluttered in his chest at the contact. It's a feeling he can't quite shake, and he's not sure he wants to. That was the worst part.

Oh no.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

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toxicanonymity · 7 months

Text

Forever for her. Left in Lincoln, pt. 7 .

10k, softdark!Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Series Master List | official playlist | floorplan

WARNINGS: I8+, virginity loss, big girthy age gap, angst, dark fluff, reader menstruates, p in v, fingering, grinding, creampie, subtle intimidation, manipulation, horror background elements. Joel is creepy, dark, delulu, and cringe (reader is sheltered, isolated, hormonal). Enthusiastic but dubious consent (brainwashing?), playing fast and loose with climate and fruit. Reader wears a flannel from Joel's closet. Haphazardly edited. This is not the last part.

"We're givin' each other everything, right?" You nodded, then he continued, "So listen." He paused and wet his lips. "I would do anything for ya, peaches." He looked down. "Anything." He met your eyes again and swallowed. "Anything to keep ya safe. . . " He lowered his voice. "an' anything to keep ya mine."

You woke up in Joel's bed, and he was nowhere in sight. You were warm, almost too warm. The dress was hanging on the back of his bedroom door. Your undergarments and a pad were on the nightstand.

You took a bath, then put your robe back on and laid on the bed staring at the dress on the back of the door. You could hear the rhythmic scrape of a rake outside and inwardly smiled, picturing Joel doing yard work. You put on your robe, crossed the room to look out the window and felt a refreshing draft as you held the curtains back. In the bottom right corner of the window's top pane, there was a spiderweb on the outside of the glass. The rake continued to scrape against the ground in the distance. The web was well-defined and irregular, some of the fibers thicker than others. You admired its intricacy and followed the design, looking for the spider, wondering if it was a male or female.

The rhythmic scraping of the rake lulled you into a trance as you followed the web from the outer edge in, until a black, out-of-focus mass fell right in front of your nose, then you felt a tickle on your chest. You gasped and stifled a squeal. Your body jerked into panic mode. You rapidfire slapped yourself on the chest and felt it smush against your robe. You wiped it on the window pane, then looked at the crumbled spider with its legs drawn in on itself, still moving but barely. It looked like a slow death, but you hoped it wasn't painful. Surely it never thought about its prey this way.

You took a deep breath and tried to slow your heart rate. You recalled that time back at your house, outside the spider shed, so long ago – Frank's words through laughter, "we're gonna get through this, honey." You took slow, calming breaths, then swallowed and whispered "sorry," before abruptly turning and walking to the bathroom. You washed your hands and chest with soap again, then came back and sat on the bed. The rake had stopped moving.

You finally stood up and retrieved the dress, bringing it to the bathroom with you and locking yourself in. You didn't want Joel to see you if it didn't look good on you. Plus, you had to do something really private.

First you went to the toilet. It was its own room within the bathroom. You locked it, too. You sat there for about fifteen minutes trying to let as much of your period out as you could after being horizontal all night. You didn't want all the built up blood pooling in your pad right away.

Once you did all you could, you washed up and looked in the mirror. You stood there and looked at yourself in your underwear for a minute, mostly looking at your face. You looked different, serious, but vibrating with a new energy. You imagined Joel standing behind you, as if you were in a portrait. Something you'd never have. But at least you had each other.

You finally put the dress on, over your head. You could just barely reach the back zipper to finish it. It felt much less cumbersome than you imagined it would. It was light and unrestrictive. The lace sleeves had enough room. It felt as comfortable as any other dress. You didn't look in the mirror right away. You looked down at yourself, then looked over your back, and down your arms. You looked in the reflection of the shower glass and the silhouette looked good enough.

You turned around to look in the real mirror, and you looked nice. The lace made you feel like a doll, but somehow you looked older than yourself at the same time. You turned around and admired it from the side and over your shoulder from the back, then smoothed it down over your butt and you didn't see the bulkiness you feared from your pad. You looked at yourself head on again, and the only thing out of place was the redness on your chest from scrubbing away the spider. With the dress on, there was a new smile behind your eyes, thinking about how Joel got it for you.

You went to the kitchen to look out the back window. You didn't see Joel and were somewhat relieved to have another moment to yourself. Your tummy felt nervous. You knew it was excitement, but the physical sensation was in discernable from anxiety. There was a little jar of apple juice on the table with a pill and a note that said "cramps?" You were feeling okay but thought about taking half of it anyway.

You sniffed the juice and it smelled good. You sat at the kitchen table and stared at the apple juice in the jar, then took a long sip and watched the tiniest bit of apple sediment settle back to the bottom. It was delicious. You took half the pill and downed the rest of the juice, then your stomach rumbled. You got an apple from the kitchen counter and sat back down. You inspected it and pressed it. You cut it with your thumbnail to make sure it wasn't rotten. It was crisp, and juice beaded along the crescent moon from your nail. You took a bite and it was fine. You relaxed into the chair and ate the apple.

Joel had let you sleep late. It was almost mid day. Just as you were finishing up your apple, you noticed him outside through the kitchen door window. He was standing there and looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He was wearing a white button-up shirt that looked like one Frank might wear to one of his black tie dinners. Joel came inside and as he turned around to close the door, you admired his lower body in a pair of form fitting khakis.

"You look nice," you told him.

He exhaled a small laugh and looked at the floor as he crossed the room to you. He sat down at the table and took your hand. "You look like an angel." He kissed your hand and scooted closer. He smelled like aftershave (although he wasn’t shaved, thank goodness) and a hint of sweat from his yard work. As comfortable as he made you feel, you still got butterflies around him.

He asked, "Hungry?"

You nodded. "A little."

"How bout a lil picnic, somethin' light?"

You nodded "is it nice out?"

"Prettiest day we could want, peaches."

—------

He made some grits and you sat at the table watching. He pulled the wagon with a basket, quilt, and blanket, and held your hand as you slowly walked. He squinted and looked at the trees, then at you.

He asked, "How ya feelin'?"

"Good, I'm fine."

"Good."

You assumed you were going to "your tree," but instead you arrived at a peach tree. He had cleared the area around it so no debris was in the way. He looked around and asked, "Whatcha think?"

You looked around. It was a good spot, away from the back, but not too close to the street. Insulated enough to feel private. You nodded, "yeah, this is nice."

Joel spread out the quilt, then the blanket, then, before sitting down, he took both your hands in his. "I feel so lucky, peaches. You're the most special girl in the world." His eyes bored into yours. "Really mean that. There's no one like you, darlin'."

You looked down then met his eyes again, biting your lip. "I think you're special, too."

A breeze came and swept your dress out, making the scene feel like a postcard.

He dropped your hands, then fetched something out of his pocket and looked at it. Your heart skipped a beat. His thick fingers were blocking your view.

"Now darlin', I'm gonna give ya somethin', but first. . ."

He held it up. It was gold and shiny. Your birth father's wedding band. Your heart skipped a beat and a knot formed in your stomach.

"My. . ." You couldn't finish the sentence. This meant he knew about the gun, too. . . and your mother's knife.

Joel must have seen it on your face. "Left everything else how ya had it. You're a smart girl, peaches."

You tried to read his face. It was soft, sympathetic. You nodded hesitantly.

"It's okay, darlin'. I don't blame ya. I woulda done the same." He held the ring between his forefinger and thumb and you opened your palm. "Smart to be prepared."

You breathed a sigh of relief as the knot in your stomach relaxed. But even as it faded, you still had that nervous–no, excited–tummy.

Joel put the ring in your hand and closed it. He held his hand there around yours and seemed like he might say something else, but he didn't.

You didn't have anywhere to put the ring. You had a passing thought to put it on your thumb but it felt stupid. You felt an urge to say you were going to give it to Joel, but you didn't say anything since he let you off the hook.

Joel reached back in his pocket and fished out another ring, smaller. It was silver with inset stones. He held it up and said, "I want you to have this one." He stepped closer, so his feet were outside yours. "We're givin' each other everything, aren't we?"

You nodded, and his eyes watered.

He nodded with you and his brow furrowed. "I love you. . . And I love bein' a family, the two of us."

Your own eyes felt misty. "I love you, too."

He took your hand, and slid the ring onto it. It was old fashioned, simple. "Ain't never gonna let ya go."

"Good," you whispered.

—

He kissed your hand, and when he tried to hold your other hand, too, you realized you were still holding your father's ring.

"Um," you cleared your throat. "Would this fit you?" You asked and opened your hand. His face relaxed.

"I dunno, peaches," he whispered. His eyes sparkled at you. He held his hand palm-down. The top of his ring finger's knuckle was a little red as if he'd already tried to put it on. You slid the ring part way on, but his finger was too big.

"Sorry," you muttered and felt a lump in your throat. You didn't have anything to give him. It rested above his knuckle.

"S'okay darlin', it's the fact that ya tried." He unbuttoned his shirt pocket, dropped the ring into it, then buttoned it again. "I'll keep it safe for ya."

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and nodded, looking up at him shyly, somehow feeling like you ruined this.

He cupped your face and read your eyes, then closed the gap between your faces and his lips pressed into yours.

He hugged you into him, kissed you harder, then murmured, "wanna sit down?"

You nodded.

You smoothed your dress under you and sat down with your knees to the side, leaning toward him. He unpacked a thermos of grits and two bowls. He unbuttoned his wrists and rolled up his sleeves and his forearm flexed with every lift of the spoon. You ate mostly in silence, but he looked at you adoringly the whole time and your nerves faded. His wrist nudged his inner thigh and when your eyes drifted there, the shape of his cock sent a pang between your legs. He followed your gaze and your face heated up as he raised his eyebrows.

—

When you were finished eating, you washed it down with the apple juice, then Joel packed up the basket and put it back in the wagon. When he settled back onto the blanket again, he had a serious look about him.

He sat down with his legs folded to the side so his knees were toward you, and he braced his hand on the blanket, leaning toward you. He kissed you again. He tasted like apples and you imagined he did, too. As he pulled away, he read your face and cupped your cheek. "You're the most beautiful angel, darlin'," he smiled. His gaze lingered, then he swallowed and looked down. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. He asked again, "We're givin' each other everything, right?"

You nodded, then he continued, "So listen," then wet his lips and paused. "I would do anything for ya, peaches." He looked down. "Anything." He swallowed. "Anything to keep ya safe," he met your eyes and lowered his voice. "And anything to keep you mine."

Your heart raced and you slowly nodded as he let it sink in.

"Get what I'm sayin', peaches?"

"Bad things," you nodded.

His brows remained furrowed as he studied your face. His voice was low and gruff. "Yeah, you could say that."

You looked down to his shirt and the outline of your father's ring in his pocket. He continued, "and darlin', I've felt this way for some time."

Your chest fluttered.

He looked up at the leaves of the peach tree, and it hit you that this was where he found you that day.

Your whole body felt warm, especially in the lace sleeves. He looked at you with anticipation and you admitted, "I had a feeling."

He lifted his eyebrows as he searched your eyes. "Okay," he whispered with a small nod. He looked down again.

"Yeah," you replied. ". . .and maybe you already did bad things." Your chest pounded. He looked at you blankly, and once he blinked, you rephrased, "Necessary things. To be together."

His jaw shifted back and forth. He looked at your mouth, then back up at your eyes. "Would ya wanna know?"

Tension gathered between your eyebrows. You took a deep breath, looked at his lips and watched his jaw clench. His eyes watered. After a moment, you slowly shook your head no. He inhaled and his eyes narrowed. Your voice was a near whisper as you told him, "No. . . Doesn't matter now."

Joel exhaled and nodded. He looked at you intensely and whispered, "Okay, baby."

You didn't need to know. You told him, "We're together, that's all I care about."

"Me too, darlin'." He chuckled, then relaxed and said, “so glad we got each other.” He folded his knees toward you again, leaned in, and cupped your cheek, his eyes locked with yours. “Me and you, baby.”

“You and me,” you whispered, lashes fluttering as his face drifted toward yours.

—-

Your lips locked, and yours tingled with excitement.

His hand moved to the back of your head. His tongue parted your lips, and he pulled you into him as he became more passionate.

As his kiss intensified, he gently lowered you into lying down on the blanket, with one of his knees between yours. His hand ran up your side and came to a rest on your breast as his mouth devoured yours. He palmed your breast, gently bit your lip, and his length hardened against your thigh. When he pulled back, he cupped your face and raised his eyebrows, and his voice was husky. "I'm never," he kissed your lips, then lowered his volume and looked into your eyes, "gonna let you go." His thumb stroked your temple. His lips brushed yours, then kissed you deeper. He pulled back, shook his head with a small smile, and his voice became a whisper as he repeated, "Never."

Your skin prickled with goosebumps, Joel's beautiful face hovering over yours under the peach tree, his body pressed against yours.

"Good," you whispered, and took his head in both your hands. You pulled him down on you. He braced himself with one forearm on the blanket near your head and his other hand traveled back down your side, down your dress, and reached under the skirt of it to your thigh. His hand slid up your thigh and he squeezed it, then lifted your thigh against him.

He lowered his hips to rest against yours, and his cock grew stiffer against you. The warm shape of his stiff length made your whole body go weak. He lifted himself off you just long enough to get the skirt of your dress out of the way. You felt warm and wet between your legs and didn't know how much of it was blood. You knew he didn't care, but it didn't entirely leave your mind.

He had the front of it bunched up at your hips, with his hand between your legs. You flinched as his palm glided over your panties, feeling the shape of your pad. But it didn't phase him at all. He gently reached into your panties.

Your face tensed. “Remember, I–"

"I know, baby," he reassured you with kind eyes.

"What about the dress?”

“Dress don’t matter, darlin’." He kissed you again. "Long as you're feelin' good." He planted another kiss and pressed his hard-on against you again. "Are ya?"

You nodded an unequivocal yes. It was certainly what your body wanted.

"Hell, let's paint it red,” he mused.

You relaxed and laughed softly.

"No?" He asked with a smile, then leaned his forehead against yours. He kissed you gently.

The time of the month wasn't ideal, but you wanted it. If you waited, he might think you weren't ready after all. Plus, you were more comfortable than you ever thought you could be. A month ago, you would have died at the thought of a man seeing any evidence of your period at all. But Joel was so reassuring, so comforting, and he really wanted all of you. He was turning it into something beautiful, and you had no doubt he felt that way. He looked at you again, then asked, “Sure you’re feelin’ good enough?" He kissed you again. “‘Cause that's all that matters.”

“I am,” you nodded earnestly.”

“You sure?”

"Joel," you sighed on the edge of irritation.

"Ok, darlin'."

He slid his hand down and exhaled vocally when his fingers met your warm, moist folds. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, moistening your clit, then he slowly, teasingly circled it. His cock swelled harder against you. "You wanna go to bed?"

You shook your head. "It's magical out here."

"That's right, peaches," he murmured lowly into your neck, lightly circling your clit with his moist fingers. His breath was warm and humid against your neck. "Special, ain't it?"

You nodded, and pulled his head back down to yours. Your lips met again. His thick fingers tensed, slid down, and prodded at your entrance. You tilted your hips and he gave a short, low "mm" as he brought his fingers back to your clit.

His tongue slid against yours in rhythm with his fingers. His mouth grew hungrier for yours every moment as he massaged your most sensitive place. He got you almost to the edge. You whimpered as his hands worked within the confines of your panties. Then he asked, "Let's take these off, hmm?" You nodded. He started to do it, then looked at your face to confirm, "You want me to?"

"I can do it," you lifted your hips and slid them down, and once they were mid-thigh, he finished taking them off.

–

He lowered his torso against yours and his massive hand nudged your shoulder up toward him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he lifted you into sitting. He traced the back neckline of the dress and murmured, "want this on or off?"

You shrugged.

"up to you, darlin'. But I sure would like to see ya." He kissed your neck and you could feel him smile against your skin. "If you're warm enough"

You were warm all over. You were so warm at your very core that it was hard to imagine ever being cold again. You asked, "you'll keep me warm, won't you?"

"Course I will."

You cracked a shy smile and planted your hands on the ground to lift your weight off the dress. Joel brought the dress up to your stomach, his fingers smearing it red, then you lifted your arms and he took it off. He planted delicate kisses on your chest at the base of your neck, and your shoulder as he gently nudged your bra straps off. Then he unclasped the back, and you let it fall in front of you. He put the bra aside and you were naked. He folded the dress into a pillow and put it under your head.

You looked at Joel's clothes and didn't say anything, but he replied to your silent question with a teasing smile. "no, I don't have to be so dressed..." you silently unbuttoned his pants, eye on his cock straining against the khakis, as he unbuttoned his shirt. Before pulling down the zipper, you traced the hard shape of his cock, and his chest let out a nearly imperceptible growl at your first rub.

He made quick work of the remaining shirt buttons, smearing a few of them red. His chest flexed as he peeled the sleeves down his bulging arms. He took his undershirt off over his head, tousling his hair, which he didn’t fix. It was the hottest you’d ever seen him. You were sitting back on your hands, naked body laid out for him. He looked at you lustily every few seconds as he took his pants off, then his boxers, leaving his commanding cock bobbing heavily before you. You pulled your eyes back up to his face and he looked at you adoringly.

–

He knelt on the blanket. Was this really going to happen? You reached out, and he nodded. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and whined, "I'm ready, you know I'm ready."

"Ready for what, darlin'?"

"To put our bodies together."

He nodded. "yeah, baby. You're ready. Gonna be real special."

He got between your legs where a fluttering ache was pounding, begging for relief. He held his cock in his hand. You felt your body making space for him. There was a place inside you that needed to be filled. He slowly lunged toward you and braced his hand on the blanket above your hip. He ran his tip through your dripping folds and his manhood further hardened. He spread the moisture over his cock. He laid his hard cock on your mound and brought his face to yours again. He rested about half his weight on top of you, his bare body flush with yours, his forearms braced on the blanket.

He kissed you deeply, grinding his erection against you, slick with your arousal and blood. Your lips embraced his and your mouth practically sucked in his tongue. He licked into you in rhythm with his slow thrusts against you. Your clit twitched against his cock and you lifted your hips, making him moan into your mouth. You needed him in you yesterday. You lifted your hips again and his mouth curved into a smile against your lips.

He reached between your legs and the breadth of his hand took up all the space. You whimpered at the first contact of the padding of his fingers with your naked heat. He slowly, lightly rubbed you as he kissed you, then slid his fingers down through your folds, gathering your moisture. He entered you with his middle finger, then his ring finger. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers slid all the way into your warm core. His cock swelled harder against your thigh as he pumped his thick digits in and out of you. He moaned softly, then added a third. Your hips rocked into his hand.

You were tense, afraid of coming too soon.

"Joel," you whimpered.

"Yeah baby," he murmured.

"What if I–ohh–what if I come too soon."

He chuckled, "you can come, baby," he kept working his fingers inside you, pressing his upper palm into your clit. You sighed and the tension swelled in your gut. "'s'a good thing, darlin'. gets ya ready for this." He rolled his stiff manhood against you as he said it. "Nice 'n ready."

"But Joel," you whined, unsure. "I want you inside"

"You wanna come on my cock?"

"Yeah, on your cock."

"Oh, baby," he moaned, his cock leaking against your thigh. "You will, baby. You will. You'll come again."

"Really?

He nodded. "Yeah. C'mon darlin, You'll come on my cock, too."

His eyes were sincere. He returned his attention to your clit and you let go. As you began to contract, he slid his fingers back inside you. "Oh, good girl," he sighed as you squeezed his fingers. "Like that, don't ya? Like squeezin' me?"

You nodded and whimpered, unable to speak as you rode out the orgasm.

"Oh, baby." He continued grinding against your hip and kissed you again as you recovered.

He pumped three fingers again, and under his breath, he muttered, "good. . .good." He moaned and pushed his hips against you. "Now I've got ya stretched, nice and relaxed."

"Joel," you begged. "Are you gonna–"

“Oh darlin’, I’m comin’.” he whispered. “Ready to be full of me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. "Fill me with you," you begged. "Put it in."

“Givin’ each other everything now,” he reminded you. “Can’t get it back.”

You nodded, “you can have it all.”

“And I’m gonna give it to ya, too.”

You nodded and your walls twitched in anticipation.

"Gonna give it all to ya."

He read your eyes and as you got lost in the black holes of his pupils, the clear fibers of his affection wrapped around you, tethering you to him and the moment. He pulled his hips back and his knees spread slightly. You spread your legs to make room. He looked between your legs and the affection on his face faded into desire. “My lands, peaches.”

He hovered over you. Your hands skimmed up his sides, and came to rest around his neck.

He used his hand to notch himself at your entrance and pushed his tip inside, stretching you open. You gasped softly, breasts heaving in anticipation of the rest of it. You dragged your feet toward your butt on the blanket, lifting your knees to frame his hips.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, and put his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” you whined, brows furrowed.

His forehead lifted off yours, his lips returned to your mouth, and his hips pressed forward, inching his cock into you with a stretch. His lips broke away from yours and his mouth stayed open. He watched your face as his girth spread you open, dividing your walls. You gasped and nodded for more. He pushed further, taking you apart from yourself inch by inch. You imagined even a smidgen more girth wouldn’t feel good. He bowed his head and backed out an inch of his length, watching your body suck him back in as he pushed in a little more than he had before.

“God damn,” he whispered, then wet his lips as he looked back up at you with half his length sheathed in your warmth.

“You feel so good, joel”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed. “You got no idea.”

“I want it all,” you begged.

He nodded, “Okay, baby.” then slowly pushed his hips forward, gradually burying his length with some effort, stuffing you full of him. “Oh, darlin’.” The look of pain on his face told you how hard he was trying not to slam into you. He was slow and gentle, and his tip pushed through your core with even more heft than you imagined. Each inch of him spread you more and filled you fuller than you thought you could be. Your body made more space and he took it up right away.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He whispered your name and said, “you’re doin’ so good.” His flesh didn’t just complete you, it made you more than you were. He took you apart and made you something new, something wrapped around him so tight. “almost there, baby.” And then he groaned “Ohhhh, god,” as you swallowed up the rest of him. It was a perfect fit.

You whimpered as he came to a rest. His cock filled up the whole space and made more for itself. The fuzz of his balls brushed your skin. Your mouth hung open and you breathed, savoring the fullness of feeling him there inside you for the first time.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighed, staying all the way inside you. He pressed his lips into yours, then pulled back and asked, “You okay?”

You nodded, happy tears prickling your eyes. His brows knitted.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “First time in years,” he whispered, and looked up at the tree. His cock twitched inside you and his tip nudged your cervix. “You tell me when you’re ready, baby.”

“I’m ready,” you nodded.

He looked you in the eyes again. “Our life starts now.” He withdrew most of his length, then let it back into you, his belly flush with yours while his cock dragged heavily inside you. He closed his eyes as your bodies became flush again. He retreated again at a snail’s pace, then pushed in a little faster.

“Saved this just for me, didn’t ya?”

He met your eyes again, then added, “Never be anyone else.”

He lowered his face for another kiss. Each time his flesh filled you up you could hardly believe how your body hugged him. It was like your body had been waiting for him all along. It really had been. This was what your bodies were made to do. Complete each other.

He looked at you and his brow furrowed again.

You asked, "What? What, Joel?"

“Now that I’ve been inside ya,” he breathed, "I’m not sure I know how not to be.”

You knew exactly how he felt. You couldn't bear the thought of being pulled apart.

He reached a slow but steady rhythm, gently filling you with his cock. You traced his shoulder, then his bicep. His bare stomach was resting against your skin, his happy trail touching you with each thrust m. He had about half his weight on you, and he let gravity help as he thrust into you. You imagined it as a magnetism. Each time he retreated, your bodies pulled back together. He bowed his head and watched himself disappear between your legs, and watched your body clinging to his shaft, hugging him tight, trying to pull him back in, not letting him go. “God damn, baby,” he breathed as he watched. “most beautiful thing I ever seen.”

When your caress reached the crook of his elbow, he braced on one forearm so he could take your hand and interlace.his fingers with yours. He held your hand to his chest and whispered, “All yours, darlin’,” his hips still moving, his cock sliding snugly against every ridge of you .

You nodded tearfully, pressing your palm into his chest, feeling the soft hair and the hard muscle.

“Every beat of it, peaches.”

Your other hand cupped his cheek, then slid up to tangle in his hair as his face returned to yours, kissing you as he buried his length in you. When your faces separated, you watched the surreal beauty of his form – his messy hair, his tan skin glimmering, his brown eyes flickering with affection as he filled you to the brim with his flesh.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good”

“I–I’m so–it’s so–”

“Packed full of it, aren’t ya baby?”

You nodded. “It’s so much,” you whispered. “But not too much,” you quickly added. “‘s’perfect.”

“So perfect, darlin’--Ohhh god, baby-–always knew ya were.”

All you saw was him, and the rhythm of his chest over yours. Beneath his heavy breaths and moans, leaves danced in the breeze, birds chirped, and the occasional piece of fruit thumped in the distance as it hit the ground. “Oh baby, I've been starvin’ for this.” His hips moved steadily, filling you with his cock every second or so, whispering your name here and there, marveling at your beauty.

“It feels so good, Joel.”

“how’s it feel?”

“Meant to be there,” you whispered, then sighed as his cock dragged through your core, completing you again. “Like it’s filling my body” More than that–it was creating space for itself, space you didn’t have before, that's the part you didn't expect. It was moving the most intimate parts of you out of the way and replacing them with him.

You tried to describe it. “It’s like –” He lowered his mouth to your neck and sucked “--oh, joel–it’s–it’s–.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed against your neck, his hips moving steadily. “I know it, darlin’,” he murmured, grinding his pelvis into yours with each smooth thrust. He slowed his hips, still grinding against you, stiff cock dragging inside you. “Meant to be right here.” Your leg wrapped around him and his thrusts became more measured, his pelvis closer against you, grinding into your clit. “Meant to be fillin’ you.”

The pleasure was swirling, nearly coming to a boil in your gut, humming for release against his front, around his cock. “I love you,” you breathed, lifting your hips into his.

“Ohhh, baby I love you too,” he whispered with a smile and near laugh. “‘n’ I love how ya take it.” His eyes darted around your face affectionately, then he bowed his head to look at where your bodies met. “Look so pretty wrapped around this cock,” he looked back up at you with bright, glistening eyes. “Look so pretty, peaches.” Your clit twitched. His movements had your hips lifting into him all on their own. “Yeah, that’s right, darlin’.” You let yourself grind up into him. “Jus’ like that,” he whispered, his body grinding against your mound as his cock moved within you. The tension hummed louder and tightened your core on the edge of bliss. You both moaned.

“Now I want ya to come, peaches,” he said in a serious tone. “Ohh, oh baby—want ya to come and squeeze me real good, can ya do that?”

You nodded, biting your lip, vision getting blurry with the moisture in your eyes. You couldn't take any more tension but unsure if or when the peak would overtake you.

“C’mon, I got ya,” he breathed as you teetered on the edge. “Breathe, baby. c’mon.” You remembered to breathe, his pelvis grinded into yours again, and then you whimpered as the tension burst. “Jo–ohhhh,” your voice was shaky as it overtook you. Your clit spasmed and each wave pulsed outward through your body. Your tears overtook your eyelashes as you moaned and gasped. Your walls clamped down around his cock, and he groaned.

“You–Ohgoddamn,” he muttered as though losing control. Then he groaned, bottomed out hard, and erupted with a shudder. A burst of warmth flooded your core, then your whole body. He dipped his head to kiss you as he came. His cock pulsed into your walls again and again and your walls squeezed in return. His lips pressed into yours, then his tongue. He kissed you and moaned into your mouth. He sucked and gently bit your bottom lip as he filled you. He was filling you all the way up, every single part of you full of him, his essence rushing through you.

There was before this and after this, you finally got it, after all this time he tried to make you see. You understood everything. Like how there was so much beauty left in the world, and it was right there between you. It wasn’t an abstract wish, it was the physical presence of you and him, your bodies together, pulsing against each other’s most intimate parts, his seed spilling into you, his lips on yours, your bodies inseparable, on the ground in the orchard. You saved it for him. Your whole life led to him.

His kiss became more tender as he finished coming. He pulled back and his eyes glistened as he read your face.

You locked eyes for what felt like forever, with Joel still breathing heavily, most of his weight on top of you.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

His eyes fell to your mouth and he kissed you again. “gonna pull out now, okay?”

Your lip trembled and your temples felt weak at the idea of your bodies not being joined. He could tell.

“It’s okay, darlin’. We’ll lay here, long as ya want.” He nodded at you and raised his eyebrows for permission to pull out.

You bit your lip and nodded.

He lay half on top of you, with a hand on your breast. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “How did it–how was it?”

“Like nothin’ i’ve ever known, baby.” He sucked in a shaky breath that made you look down at his face and his cheeks were wet.

–

You took a short nap like that, naked under the peach tree, until a dead leaf fell and tickled your arm and you jolted awake. A bird cawed at your sudden movement, and Joel asked, "you okay?"

When you got up, you only put your underwear back on. Joel wrapped you in one of the blankets, put his arm around you as he brought you back inside.

As you were walking back to the house, you heard the car noise again, toward the front of the orchard, and you froze, your eyes wide, looking toward the street. But this time it came with a breeze and the rustling of leaves.

“Just the wind, darlin’. What’s got ya so jumpy?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “Sorry.”

You didn’t realize you were jumpy. Maybe since you found out Bill and Frank could come home soon, you kept expecting them.

—-

When you got back inside, he laid the dress across the back of a chair in the living room and traced one of several red smudges with his fingers. There was bright red and dark red. "See? It's beautiful." He patted your hair. "gonna remember this forever."

He ran a bath. You sat on the edge of the garden tub as the bath filled up, and he kneeled in front of you in his boxers. He curled his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you stood up as he helped you take them off. There was diluted blood drying on your inner thighs. He dipped a sponge into the hot water to clean you. When you noticed a bit of his cum leaking out of you, it made you sad. You hoped he’d give you more.

Joel got in the tub first, then you got between his legs and laid back. You laid in silence for a while, then said, “I loved that." Hearing yourself in the bathtub sounded crisper than usual.

“What’d ya love, darlin'.”

“I love having you inside me.”

“Oh, baby, it’s my favorite place to be.”

"Good”

His cock twitched against your lower back. “‘Course it is, baby.” He kissed the crown of your head.

"I feel empty now"

"'S'okay, darlin'. You're s'posed to. 'S'posed to want somethin' there." His hand came between your legs and gently fingered your floating curls.

He shifted his hips under you. "Gotta pace yourself, but it'll feel better and better, I promise."

"Okay."

"We’ll rest up and do it again later."

"Yeah."

—---------

That night, you did it again. He was deep inside you, pressing sweet kisses into your neck as you whimpered beneath him.

“How’s it feel,” he murmured into your neck. “Still feel good?”

“Feels good,” you whined

“S’only gonna get better, baby. Better every day.” He slowly retreated, then sighed "ohh, baby" as he filled you with his cock again. He was still fucking you slowly, carefully, grunting and moaning with your whimpers and sighs. His hair was messed up again, moving to the beat of his thrusts, and his neck veins were bulging.

There was a loud rap at the door, startling you both. Joel’s hand reflexively covered your mouth as he froze, then composed himself and completed one last slow thrust, one that felt even better with you frozen in fear.

“Gonna be okay, baby,” he whispered, then pulled out. He slowly released his hand from your mouth, pressing a kiss into your lips. Your eyes were wide. You hadn't heard the car over your mutual pleasure. "Gonna be okay," he repeated.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He took a gun out of his nightstand. There was another loud rap at the door, longer this time. A deep voice with the same drawl as your husband. “JOEL, IT’S ME. OPEN UP.”

Joel looked at you and whispered, "Tommy."

Joel put the gun in the back of his jeans and shut the bedroom door behind him.

—--

The front door creaked as Joel opened it. “Tommy.” You heard the slapping of a hand on a back as they greeted each other, then the door closed. “Didn’t know ya were comin’, woulda gotten a room ready or–”

"Just dropped off Bill ‘n Frank.”

“Shhhh.”

“Hey, what the hell's goin' on? Where's the kid?”

“Tell’em she’s safe. Asleep upstairs."

"You don't think she'd wanna see'em?"

"No sense in wakin' her up."

There was a long pause, then Joel asked, “Why’d ya drive’em?"

“Their truck gave out.” After a long pause, Tommy added “Frank said somethin’s off with you.”

“What're you talkin’ about? Why would Frank said that?”

"Said ya smiled. Made'em uneasy."

Joel scoffed. "I was bein' nice."

Tommy laughed. "I told'em you're weird about hospitals, prolly overcompensatin'. Told'em everything's fine. . ."

Joel said, "good, ‘cause everything is."

"You gonna invite me in?"

"Come on in." A few footsteps, then the front door shut.

Tommy asked, “She’s upstairs?”

Tommy’s boots thudded away from Joel's bedroom, toward the stairs.

“Tommy, wait.”

Tommy didn’t wait. Two sets of footsteps climbed the stairs, with Joel’s quieter steps following Tommy's boots. You couldn't hear their conversation. A door opened and closed upstairs. Then another. And another. You turned the ring on your finger.

Footsteps, then indistinct heated words.

The lighter set of footsteps descended the stairs with the boots following behind. Tommy's voice got closer on the way down the stairs. “somethin’ ain't right here.”

The front door locked before Tommy made it down.

Joel was calm. “Slow down, take a breath.”

Tommy replied, “I don’t like that look you’re givin’ me, brother.”

Joel told him, “You need to sit down and listen to me.”

“Joel, if I don’t come back, Bill’s comin’ over here.”

"She's safe," Joel insisted. "C'mere, let's have a drink."

The footsteps faded into the living room, then stopped abruptly. "What the hell's that?" The footsteps slowly resumed, then stopped again. Then, the rustling of fabric. Tommy's voice was shaky. "What the hell is this, Joel?"

"Shhhhh. Ain't what ya think."

"Don't look like it," Tommy laughed in bad humor, then composed his nerves into calm anger. "What'd you do, Joel?"

"Nothin', Tommy. It’s her period, damn. Now sit down."

"I may be the only one who knows how dangerous you are, but don't act like I don't fuckin’ know.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Joel responded, “You don’t."

You held your neck, looking around the room. Your pulse was pounding against the heel of your palm.

“I don't? What the hell’s that s'posed to mean?”

“I’m in love with her, Tommy." Your heart swelled.

"Jesus. . ."

Tommy mumbled something else, and Joel responded, “She's not a kid."

"She's Bill's kid," Tommy countered.

"Not anymore. And I’ll do anything to keep her." After a pause, Joel added, “I mean anything.”

"I fuckin' know you do," Tommy snapped.

"Then we’re clear," Joel said. "Tell'em ya didn't wanna wake her up."

"Not ‘til I see her," Tommy insisted.

There was a beat of silence, then Joel offered, "Cool off first, have a drink. Don't wanna scare her."

Your heart raced. Their voices became indistinct as they moved towards the kitchen.

—---------

You sat on the bed stunned. Your parents were home, and you weren't as happy as you imagined you'd be to hear it. You were wholly preoccupied by Tommy's words. Joel was dangerous. You had already come to know it in your heart, but hearing someone else say it out loud had your mind racing. You never thought about what that meant for you. The worst part was the fear in Tommy’s voice. Would Joel do something to Tommy? His own brother? They were family. You and Joel were family.

You got up and went into Joel's closet. You pulled out a flannel and put it on over your nightgown. You built up your courage, then slowly opened Joel’s bedroom door.

—---------------

You emerged from the bedroom, unsure how either of them would react. You pulled the flannel over your hands, hiding the ring. As you tiptoed into the living room, Joel was on the sofa facing away from you. Tommy was facing you and saw you first. He was holding a mostly empty glass of whiskey. Joel's glass was already empty on the coffee table. Tommy sat upright and swallowed. He put his glass down on the side table.

“Hey,” Tommy's voice was soft, like he didn't want to startle you. “You okay?”

Joel looked over his shoulder, then turned his body.

“Yeah,” you nodded and walked over to them, looking at Joel. Joel's face softened as he looked at you. You sat on one of Joel’s thighs, your bare feet on the floor holding some of your weight.

“They're home, darlin’,” Joel said and looked at you with pleading eyes. “wanna go now, or let’em get some rest, see’em in the mornin’?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Let’em get some rest.”

Tommy sat back and raised his eyebrows in surprise. When you looked right at him, the dress caught your eye on the other chair and your chest felt hot.

Joel cradled your head with one hand and kissed you on the cheek. “Ok, peaches. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight, then go back to bed."

You looked at Joel hesitantly. He nodded toward Tommy and flexed his jaw.

Tommy watched you curiously as you approached. You gave him a loose hug around the neck and the lightest peck on the cheek.

“Night, sweetie,” Tommy mumbled.

You went back to Joel's lap and put your arms around his neck. He looked at you and you searched his eyes. He gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and whispered, "Go on. I'll be there soon," with a wink. His hand was big and warm on your back as you stood up to walk away.

—

Before you closed the bedroom door behind you, Tommy said, "Okay, she's not a kid. . . Don't mean it's right."

Their conversation became indistinct until Tommy was leaving a few minutes later.

Joel said, “I’ll leave it unlocked. You can stay upstairs.”

The front door opened and closed.

—------

You weren't planning on it but as soon as the front door began to close, your legs carried you into Joel's bathroom, and your shaking hand closed the door. You sat on the tiled floor against the door. Your heart pounded. Joel would never do anything to hurt you. Why was your body reacting this way? Your eyes felt weak. You didn't want him to see you scared or upset, but this couldn't be much better. You closed your eyes and tried to get back to that place you were in the orchard where everything in the universe made sense.

Joel came into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. "Aw, baby" he said to himself as he realized where you were. He took off his pants and put the gun back in the drawer, then approached the bathroom door. "You in there, peaches?”

“Yeah,” you managed weakly.

“Can I come in?” Joel tried to open the door and found it was locked.

“Not now.” You wanted to stop crying first.

After a moment of silence, he slid down the other side of the door and sat down. “Can ya talk to me, baby?”

You sniffled, then whined, “I dunno what to say.”

Joel sighed and you heard the soft thud of his head resting against the other side of the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whimpered.

“We’re a family now, baby. Gotta work through whatever you’re feelin’.”

You scooted back and slowly opened the door.

Joel came in and sat on the tile next to you, your backs against the door. He stroked your thigh. His voice was soft. “Wanna come back to bed or wanna talk in here?”

“Here.”

“Okay,” he whispered. He was studying your eyes, desperate to read them.

You winced with a cramp and put your hand where it hurt. He went to get you a pill and came back. He handed you the pill and a glass of water. “Want me to run you a bath?”

You shook your head no. You didn't need a third bath.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“What’s wrong?” you repeated.

You looked at him, hating the fact that he was going to make you ask him. Earlier, you said you didn't want to know. You wanted it to stay an abstract, romantic concept that he would kill for you. But the way Tommy was talking, you felt like you needed something. You felt like you needed to know Joel better.

Joel took a deep breath in through his nose. His voice was soft and careful. “Tommy’s my brother, and I love’m, but .. .sometimes, brothers. . . .” He was searching for words, and at the same time, searching your face for an out. He gave up and his voice dropped an octave. “What’d ya hear, darlin’?”

You heard the words come out of your mouth before you could stop them. "How'd you kill him?"

Joel squinted and searched your face. “Who?”

“What happened to Jesse?” you asked. Joel looked up at the ceiling and his nostrils flared. His chest expanded with a calming breath. You continued, “I don’t care about him at all. I don’t even care if you killed him but I wanna know."

"Thought ya didn't wanna know."

"Now I do."

“I dunno if that’s a good idea, peaches.”

“You said you’d do anything for me. This is what I need, I need you to tell me.”

Joel sighed and swallowed, then nodded. “There was an accident.”

"What kind of accident?"

"He fell."

“What? Like from a tree?”

“No, when he was diggin’.”

You felt lightheaded imagining the garden beds, and the way Joel tucked the pumpkin flower behind your ear. Something told you he was still out there. You tried not to show anything on your face.

You asked, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“‘Cause it was my fault. I scared him. Didn't want ya to be afraid."

“What happened?“

“Won’t do ya any good knowin’ that, darlin’.” Joel sighed. “Might make ya feel bad.”

“I don’t care, just tell me.” What bothered you was that it wasn't even serious with the boy. It was nothing like it was with Joel. So Joel didn't have to do whatever he did. All Joel had to do was love you and you would've dropped everything else in an instant. All Joel had to do was hug you. You really believed that.

“He was gonna hurt ya, darlin'." You found that hard to believe, but heard him out. You reflexively squinted but tried not to look too skeptical.

"Hurt me how."

“He was talkin’ like. . . he was talkin’ disrespectful.”

Your face burned, thoughts flying around in your head about what he possibly could have said.

Joel did a double take at your face and noticed how embarrassed you were. “Darlin’, you really don’t need to be hearin’ this.”

“Just tell me.”

"So when he tried to touch ya. . .”

“You were watching us?”

“I was worried, darlin’. Just lookin’ out for ya.”

“So you saw me stop it, then.”

“Sure did, and I was proud of ya.” There was nothing to be proud of. It wasn't on any moral grounds, you were just nervous in Joel's orchard. And apparently, you had every reason to be.

“So what happened?”

“So, next time we were workin', it came up again. . ."

Your mouth felt dry.

Joel continued, "I told him that’s not how to treat a woman, that you deserved better.”

Your heart pounded. “And you were really mad, that's why he fell.”

Joel nodded, and you nodded. You could picture the rest of it, but you didn't want to. You imagined that when he fell, that wasn't the end of it.

You took his hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

Joel kissed your hand and breathed a sigh of relief.

“And thanks for doing that," you added.

Joel squinted at you, taken aback. “Doin’ what, darlin’?”

“Whatever you had to do. . . for me.”

Joel studied your face as though it might have been a trick. It wasn’t. He slowly nodded. He kissed your hand again. “You don’t hate me.”

“Of course I don’t hate you, I love you.”

Joel’s eyes watered. “This is true love, baby. Unconditional.”

You asked, “Can I ask you something else?”

“Anything, peaches.”

"Who else?”

"Uh," Joel squinted.

"I asked you how you killed him, and you asked who."

"Oh, darlin'," he chuckled.

"Did Abe really leave?"

Joel inhaled then puffed out his cheeks as he let out the breath and hesitantly shook his head no.

“He was in bad shape when I found him. Gettin’ sick, talkin’ crazy..”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were already scared. . . didn’t wanna make it worse.”

You barely nodded, trying to process all this, wondering if there was more to it, but consciously pushing the thought away. You wondered whether you would've been more or less scared if you knew something happened to Abe.

"You're a smart girl, peaches."

“What’d Tommy mean when he said you’re dangerous?”

Joel wiggled his jaw and looked away, then back at you. “I’ve made some mistakes. Used to let my temper get the best of me.” He looked down. “Don’t drink like I used to.”

He scooted around on the tile to face you. He picked up both your hands and looked at you with big, pleading eyes. “But no matter what, you gotta believe I would never, ever hurt you, baby." His eyes were glistening. "There’s no part'a me that would. I’d sooner hurt myself.”

You looked at his mouth and just as you saw the smallest quiver, he wet his lips and swallowed.

You whispered, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Good.” He sighed in relief.

You took your hands away and tightened the flannel around you, then said, “and you wouldn’t hurt anyone I love, because that would hurt me."

Joel swallowed and inhaled through his nose, waiting uncomfortably for you to continue.

You looked at each other for a few seconds, then you asked, “Are Bill and Frank gonna be okay here?”

He looked away, then back at you before muttering, “I hope so, darlin'.”

“Even if we can't be together right away?”

Joel squinted at you incredulously. “What're you talkin’ ‘bout, can’t be together?" He scoffed coldly, making your temples hurt. "I’m sure as hell not lettin’ Tommy tell me what to do. You gonna let them tell you what to do?”

“No. . .” You didn’t know what else to say.

“We talked about this, darlin’. You change your mind?”

You shook your head. “Guess I’m still nervous. Thought maybe it'd take time."

Joel clenched his jaw, opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it again. When he did speak, he was calm and measured. “There’s no scenario where we’re not together, peaches." He raised his eyebrows at you and added flatly, "We promised each other forever.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“And I meant it,” he added with a hint of accusation.

You protested, “I did, too.” You did.

"Well I still mean it."

"I do, too." You weren't lying. Somehow, you didn't want it any less. If anything, your heart wanted it more. You wondered if you went too far in your questions.

He pried your hands off the flannel to hold them. You tried to relax but your hands were still tense.

He dipped his head to make eye contact with you and didn't blink. “You and me together. No matter what.” He closed his eyes for a breath and sighed. When his eyes met yours again, he added, “No matter where.”

Your heart fluttered.“No matter where?”

He nodded with a deep inhale through his nose. His eyes wandered, then found yours again. “yeah, no matter where."

This tugged at your heart. Was he really willing to take you out?

"There's another town . . . Ain't easy gettin’ there, but I reckon if we're real careful. . .”

You pondered it silently. You wanted to see the world outside, but you never thought about moving. You wanted to live with Joel on this land forever, but you wanted your parents to be okay, too. Leaving altogether seemed so sudden, so huge.

You asked, “Really? You would take me out?”

“Scares me to death,” he admitted. "But I just wanna be with you, peaches."

You stayed quiet for a minute.

"Ain't right they kept ya here all your life," he muttered.

The thought of leaving forever was scary, but if that's what it took to keep your parents safe, you would. Joel was your home anyway. You could feel at home anywhere with him.

You asked, “Would I get to say goodbye?”

His mouth tensed and he looked at the floor.

"Not out loud," you conceded. "But could I see them again first?"

He was quiet, reading your face. "If that's what ya need," he nodded somberly.

“Spend a little time with them?” You asked.

“How much time?” Joel countered.

“I don’t know, a few days?”

“You wanna be apart that long?”

“No, but. . . no”

Joel sighed. “Let’s figure this out tomorrow, k?”

He cradled your head and whispered, “We’ll figure it out.” He pressed his lips into yours, giving you the slowest, most tender kiss. He pulled back and your eyes clouded up.

“I love you,” you whispered. “More than anything.”

He nodded, tears in his eyes.

You added, “And there’s no ‘but’. I’ll go anywhere to be with you.”

He pulled you into straddling him. Your arms wrapped around him all on their own and you were soothed. It was true, you had given him everything. You were hollow without it, without him. But up against his body, wrapped in his big arms, you felt complete again. You felt safe.

You could feel his manhood beneath you, warm and soft. He hugged you tight and drew in a ragged breath. He held you and stroked your head for a minute. His cock hardened a little with your crotch against it. You were beginning to feel the painkiller. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered. You yawned. “Thought we’d have more time.” The front door opened, and you flinched.

“Just Tommy," Joel whispered. "He’s gonna stay upstairs tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go to bed, baby.”

You braced yourself with your hands on his shoulders and stood up. He hooked his thumbs under the flannel collar to help you take it off, but you pulled it tighter around yourself.

Joel pulled his hands away, then rubbed your back. "Okay, darlin'."

You got in bed, curled up on your side. Joel draped his arm over you and asked, “this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and loosely laced your fingers with his in front of you.

“‘S’gonna be fine, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t wanna be apart,” you sniffled.

“We’re not gonna be,” he reassured you. “Ever.”

-----

THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. AND YOU WILL HAVE MORE SEX.

However, this is on soft hiatus until after Halloween unless i really feel like putting out the next chapter. Too many seasonal things to cook.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging <3

I'll reblog or comment with Lincoln tag list.

@toxicfics for notifications. The tag list is not long for this world.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #joel miller x innocent!reader #joel miller x virgin!reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#lincoln!joel #lincoln!joel ☠️#possessive!joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw arachnophobia #cw age gap

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 days

Text

Winter's King 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: friday, my day, am i right?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there?

“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.”

“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.”

You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you.

“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate.

You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.”

“You are not in Debray now,” he muses.

You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him.

“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance.

“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.”

“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--”

“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.”

You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.”

You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone.

“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.”

You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment.

“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...”

“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?”

You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath.

“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.”

“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating.

He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain.

“We may begin simple,” he intones.

So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response.

“You have a question?” He prompts.

“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines.

“I can tell,” he says brightly.

You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks.

“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles.

He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait.

“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.”

“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter.

“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides.

“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.”

He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.”

You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do?

⚔️

“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.”

“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.

“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.”

You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair.

“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--”

“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.”

“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.”

“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.”

You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?”

You twist around to look at the door, then to him.

“I will go wherever you command, your highness.”

“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?”

There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you.

“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.”

He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.”

“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?”

Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away.

“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you.

He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh.

“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.”

You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.”

He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed.

“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.”

You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away.

“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table.

Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales.

He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow.

“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.”

You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall.

Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife.

He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts.

He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool.

He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream.

“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.”

You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months.

“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.”

He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side.

“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.”

You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there.

He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs.

Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand.

“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you.

“A game, your highness?” You babble.

He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.”

Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king.

“Your highness,” you utter.

“It’s my command,” he says, “run.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #dark geralt #dark!geralt #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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saintels · 1 year

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✮ ┆STFU (pink flame). ellie williams

warnings not proofread pls forgive me, dom f reader, smoking, toxic reader, ellie is whiny and subby and kinda a fucking loser in this, degradation, lesbian oral sex, high/drunk sex, like one pussy slap 942 words

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— “got you craving me all day. once you're in my state of mind, i’ll never let you escape.” DRABBLE

HER LIPS ARE GLUED TO YOUR SKIN the second you sit down beside her on the sticky leather couch, the vodka and tequila on her tongue burning as she sucks a fresh hickey into the side of your neck.

Her actions have your eyes rolling, completely unfazed as you pull out the small, pink metal case of pre-rolled joints from the waist band of your skirt.

Your hand pats around your body in search for that last essential element until Ellie holds it up to your face.

Pink tinged eyes linger over your lips as she lights the end of your tightly rolled CBD with the pink flames of your favourite Hello Kitty lighter.

You inhale, gently grabbing her cheeks to bring her lips to yours so you can blow the smoke into her mouth.

The transferred cloud of Honeyrose hemp fills her senses, lingering before she exhales.

Your eyes bore into her as she uses the same Hello Kitty lighter to light her own cigarette, letting it sit between her thumb and pointer finger as she moves to your neck again.

God, you mentally groaned, she was always this fucking needy when she was high.

You hurry her into a random bedroom in the house where the party was being held, pushing her down on the bed.

“Can’t even keep it in your fucking pants for a couple hours, El,” you mutter, annoyance lingering in your tone.

Ellie giggles, rolling her shoulders as she snuggles into the soft mattress beneath her.

Yeah. She was gone.

“Need you here,” she whines, palming her cunt through the rough material of her black jeans. Her fingers massage the area, desperately trying to satisfy the growing wetness between her thighs as she watches you stand between her legs.

Undoing the buttons of her jeans, you have them and her black briefs off in one swift pull.

The rose blunt still hangs between your glossy lips, the end barely glowing with embers as you stand to shimmer out of your skirt.

The denim hits the ground and your black tank top joins it shortly after.

Her hazed eyes are as wide as her body allows them to be when she’s that high, mouth hanging open.

“Always got your fucking mouth open.”

The black lace tickles as the thong drops down your legs. You kick it off your feet and you’re now left completely bare in the pale moonlight.

Ellie doesn’t even have a moment to think before she lets out a muffled grunt, the material now shoved in her mouth.

She moans and rolls her head back as she tastes your sickly honeyed remnants on her tongue.

“That should shut you up,” you mumble, sinking to your knees between her legs on the end of the bed, “Love the sound of your own voice or somethin’, need you to keep quiet for me now though, pretty baby.”

You don’t even allow her a mere five seconds to comprehend your words before she hears a loud smack and there’s a sharp stinging on her pussy. She chokes a gasp as her hips jolt.

Your nails graze her sensitive skin, spreading her lips.

“Look at this,” you tease, “fucking soaked just from that one shot-gun, huh sweetheart?”.

She nods, trying to murmur through the material of your lingerie but failing.

Your thumb flicks her clit, puffy and pink as it throbs for attention.

“So cute,” you whisper.

Your lips close around her rosy nub, a long mewl leaving her chest as she grips the bed sheets.

Long black nails dig into her thighs as your mouth is mercilessly aggressive against her cunt.

Her moans sound starved and rightfully so.

It wasn’t a 50/50 relationship. Hell, it wasn’t even 80/20.

Countless times, Ellie sat in her dorm all alone, accompanied by nothing but ‘The Office’ playing on the TV as white noise. Her fingers slip into her underwear, trying her best to rub all the right spots the way you do. But to no avail, she almost cries in frustration as she cums not even close to as hard as you can make her cum.

She knows you’re out doing anything except thinking of her. A drug run, smoking with your friends that she knew you touched probably all the same ways you did to her, showing your cunt to some random girl in a sorority house.

Her texts stay unread for six hours and she would still sit and wait for your attention like a puppy, brainwashed desperate and hooked.

“Been neglecting this pussy for too long, huh?” your voice is smooth but your words are sharp. You know exactly what you’re doing and you know exactly how it tears a hole in her.

Any drop of dignity left in her veins dries up as she whimpers, the coil in her stomach unwinding as she grinds against your face.

Your tongue runs up her creamy slit, the sweet taste silky on your taste buds.

She wriggles, trying to back away from your mouth.

“It’s fucking pathetic,” you lean back, lips and chin soaked with her release, “cumming this hard when I’ve barely even touched you.”

You fall beside her on the bed, pulling your panties out her mouth and throwing them to the floor.

Before she knows it, the familiar feeling of your smooth, pink rolling paper is between her lips. She’s quiet, watching as you pull the lighter out of her sports bra where she always stashed it for you.

The pink flame ignites and her mind is foggy again. Except now, all she can think about is you.

#┆ 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂 ❀#ellie williams #smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #x reader #femal reader #lesbian #f x f #the last of us #the last of us part ii #part 2 #fanfiction #drabble #ellie williams x y/n #tlou

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cherrychilli · 6 months

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18+

Eddie Munson, AFAB reader, "shy" reader, flashing, public setting

A/N: My first Eddie blurb, yay! I'm very rusty but I'm trying to get back into writing with some short blurbs so I'm starting off a little light before I dive back into full on filth and debauchery.

Thinking about...

Eddie and his girlfriend who's often too shy to initiate all the naughty things she wants to do with him.

That is until the sexual tension building inside you reaches an all time high one night when he's on stage performing - your own personal kryptonite.

It's almost too much for you to handle, staring longingly at his skilled fingers as they move deftly over the frets of his guitar, a light sheen of sweat making his neck gleam enticingly under the stage lights, shirt riding up so that his stomach and happy trail peek through.

You loved watching Eddie perform, seeing him shine and thrive in his element and look good doing it. Ripples of want had been coursing through you all night, turning into waves as the gig continued, morphing into a storm of desire swirling wildly inside you until you're finally able to cast your inhibitions aside and work up the nerve to do something you've been fantasizing about since watching him perform the very first time, since before he'd even asked you to be his girlfriend.

You flash him.

Hooking your thumbs underneath the hem of your top, pulling both it and the thin lace bra you'd been wearing underneath up over your breasts smoothly. For all the care and effort you'd put into picking out the pretty lingerie for when you'd be alone together with Eddie in his van after the show, you decided this would be a better way to surprise him in the end.

You're at the back of the bar, all eyes on Eddie and the band, everyone else too caught up in the music to notice the girl with her tits out, thankfully. But your boyfriend's eyes had kept returning to you all night while he was up there on stage so when he looks to you again after nailing his solo, searching for your pretty face and your sweet, shy smile in the crowd he gawps when instead he's met with the sight of your exposed breasts and the big proud grin plastered on your face. He's seen them before, sure; been rendered thoughtless at the sight your pebbled nipples and your soft breasts but this? in a room full of people too preoccupied to know any better? risk and thrill intertwining and all for him? it nearly does poor Eddie in.

It's long time fantasy of his come true, made even better because it was you who'd done it and now that it's actually happened, Eddie's so caught up in it that his fingers fumble over the guitar strings, jumbled notes and chords blaring out of the amp but the botched melody fails to catch his notice for he's still too busy staring at your tits.

Some of the audience members begin murmuring and tilting their heads in confusion at how the front man's lost his composure in the span of a couple of seconds and you decide you've had your fun, pulling your clothes back down in time for Eddie to snap out of his dazed stupor and finish the song the way it was meant to be played, all while his cheeks blazed bright red.

There's still a couple of songs left to be played in the set after that but instead, he announces that the band will be taking a quick break over the mic, hopping off stage and making his way over to you.

"Baby, I can't believe you did that", he exclaimed excitedly under his breath once he'd shuffled through the crown in record time, his hands set on your waist, smile impossibly wide, and eyes bright with a telltale glimmer.

"I've always wanted to do that", you confessed with hot cheeks, adrenaline still strong in your veins. "Ever since I first watched you on stage".

Eddie gives you a look, a mix of impress and adoration playing on his features.

"Who knew my sweet, shy girl had it in her?", he pulls you closer, close enough for you to feel that part of him press against your hip.

"Eddie..." , you flustered, quickly glancing around the crowded bar to make sure no one was watching the two of you.

It's obvious he's dying to slip his hands underneath your clothes and touch you and your body burns hot with the same need. He leans in, lips to your ear as he whispers, "How about we head to the van a little early? Y' can gimme a private show this time"

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x reader

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ellstronaut · 2 months

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Going back to this debate

I know Ellle is a multifaceted individual that much is obvious she’s not one dimensional she has many elements to her personality. Additionally, it’s important to remember that even on the spectrum of masculine and feminine, Ellie isn’t completely one or the other. She exists in some sort of grey area between them, embodying both masculine and feminine traits. She’s not defined by one end of the spectrum, but rather by the interplay of these two extremes.

Yet at times the characterisation of Ellie is laced with internalised misogyny. And highlights the way “masc presenting” lesbians are treated in real life tied down to the “man” in the relationship why is Ellie mostly written as the dominant one especially when coupled with fem reader why do we head canon her as a top when it’s literally canon that she’s a switch? Why is there an infinite amount of “ellie taking care of the reader on her period” scenarios outnumber “Reader taking care of Ellie on her period” Ellie written as tall towering over fem reader and not like she’s literally 5’5

The fact is that there’s a heteronormative slant to the way people write her. Like I said almost never written as a switch, but a top. To some extent been portrayed as tall and dominating, never small or vulnerable. And Santa Barbara Ellie is often sexualized even though she is deeply traumatized and emotionally tormented. The problem is that people are viewing her through male-centric lenses, reducing her to an object of desire rather than a fully fleshed out woman with a complex, nuanced personality which includes many dimensions, some of which may be considered feminine.

There is no specific way to be a “masc lesbian” a woman nor feminine and express your femininity. Nor should that separate her from her womanhood/femininity. in a way it’s her way of showing how feminine she is. maybe not stereotypically through outward appearances, but her general identity. she’s a woman who experiences the same struggles that women do, Obviously she doesn’t waver just on the lines of black and white, she’s all rounded. In between. Grey area. The point I’m trying to make is that she’s all and above, you can be both masc and fem. I would add that Ellie's femininity is often overlooked or even belittled by people who only focus on traits that appeal to them. Not her emotional intelligence, her caring nature, her resilience, her dedication to her loved ones. Fuck she’s also a soft heart and a tender soul. These aspects of her are just as important to her character, she is a whole person ffs, exceptionally fleshed out

So fuck

“the hot wife and her hot boyfriend”

Why not

“The hot wife and her hot wife”

“She’s so boyfriend

“She’s so girlfriend”

Santa Barbara/Seattle is literally at her most vulnerable, disheveled state that girl is literally plagued with trauma, stuck in a limbo of “do I seek vengeance in the name of losing my family and absolutely everything or stay and suffer in silence (at who’s expense?? Hers) Yet we sexualise tf out of her, the most vulnerable pinnacle of existence—glorified and romanticised bc it’s “hot”

this is not a dig at anyone you’re free to write whatever tf you want bro it’s your platform but pls let’s not bs and pretend as of this doesn’t occur

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlouellie #pls feel free to add on this topic

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starsinmylatte · 2 months

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𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚘𝚐

Here is my submission for @kentopedia's wonderful Love Through the Ages collab!

➻ Summary: Trapped in the gilded cage of Victorian high society, you were determined to rebel. You ran the streets in disguise at night and threw yourself into your work as a typist for Scotland Yard during the day, rejecting the label of “quiet, submissive woman.” Further rebuffing the ideals of your time, you scoffed at the idea of love and marriage, but a certain blonde Detective Inspector always seemed to make your heart flutter. You’re assigned to work a case under him, and your feelings only grow more complicated… but will your budding romance be able to survive one of history’s most infamous murderers?

➻ Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!Reader

➻ Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI)

➻ Word Count: 8.2k

➻ Warnings: Explicit sexual content and Discussions of the Jack the Ripper case/thematic elements related to the case/time period (rape, poverty, etc.)

➻ Song recommendations (in order):

Toxic- From “Promising Young Woman” Soundtrack performed by Anthony Willis Les feuilles mortes- Jean-Michael Blais The Swan- Camille Saint-Saëns

➻ Author's note: I did a ton of research to make sure I had my details correct, so there are tons of easter eggs hidden in the fic. I had a lot of fun with this one!

Join my taglist here!

Colors flew through the air as you tossed various skirts, bodices, and any other accessories unfortunate enough to catch your ire clear across the room. They hit your quilted bedsheets with an audible thunk as Misato shook her head at your antics, tsking at you from the corner.

“Love, you’ll be late if you carry on like that. Wipe that scowl off and pick one already.”

You shot the maid another half-hearted frown, looking as grim as a young woman clad in only her chemise, garters, and stockings could. Misato strode over with matronly confidence, snatching the next garment out of your hands before it could grace the top of the pile. She held the bodice up, inspecting it in the clear morning light before giving a brisk nod.

“Right then, this will do. It’s posh enough to keep your father happy without all those extra frills and ruffles you hate. Grab that skirt, and let’s get on with it.”

You did as you were told, albeit extremely unenthusiastically. Misato hummed soothingly, draping the familiar weight of a corset around your waist. This was a dance you knew the steps of all too well. You fastened the busk up quickly before bending down to grasp at the foot of the bed, adjusting your decollete into the supporting garment. Misato tightened the laces systematically, just as she had done for every year you’d been old enough to dress as a woman.

Standing back up, you moved your body around, wincing and rolling your shoulders as you reacclimated to the squeeze of the steel boning.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, dropping your head in apology at the sight of her soft frown. “I know I’m bull-headed, and I know it only causes trouble for you.”

With a gentle sigh, the maid slipped a muslin camisole over your head before moving to fasten a bustle around your waist. “I understand, love. But you’re a woman of society, and you’re to dress as such. Now, bear you in mind, I’d rather die than see you in trousers like the men, but I think there’s a middle ground to be found yet.”

You smiled at her, grateful for the affection, “I know, but I’m still glad to hear it.”

“Who knows… Maybe you’ll finally attract a husband who’ll let you run as wild as you’d like.” The older woman teased you, pinching your cheek affectionately as she slipped several layers of skirt over your head. Her loving prodding pulled an imperceptible flush across your cheeks, and you distracted yourself with the buttons of your bodice. “Lord knows some of those peelers can’t be too horrible to look at.”

“Love,” you scoffed, choosing to ignore the way your mind immediately wandered to a certain stoic, blonde detective, “is for little girls who still believe in fairy tales.”

You continued on, selecting a hat from a drawer. “I work because I want to do something important… something beyond embroidery and gossiping at garden parties. There are people out there who need help, Misato.”

The maid laughed softly, pinning your hat at a perfect, jaunty angle. “I’ve known that since you stood at the height of my knee, but I can still hope to see you happy.”

You bade Misato goodbye with a quick kiss on the cheek, finally venturing out from your family’s warm, comfortable house to wait by the road for your carriage. An icy breeze brushed past as soon as you stepped outside, ruffling through your skirts and causing you to shiver. As you waited patiently, the damp air slowly seeped under your multiple layers of clothing; the strangely oppressive chill only took a few moments to carve beneath your skin like an icy dagger.

Normally, little birds would flitter throughout the small yards alongside the street, filling your morning commute with their cheerful racket, but there was only silence today. Your only companions were the ever-present fog and smoke that blanketed the city, but today, they seemed so much thicker than usual, making the overcast sky feel even more bleak.

Thick tendrils of gloom trailed over the cobblestones, swallowing the flickering gas lights one by one. There were no people on your street this early, no signs of life to be seen anywhere. Another shiver shot down your spine, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. The world was grey and eerily silent as the fog finally reached you, blanketing your entire body with frigid mist. The downy hairs on the back of your neck began to stand on end; everything felt off… like an ill omen.

A moment later, the clacking of hooves on the cobblestone echoed throughout the street, and a familiar carriage finally appeared in the gloom. You barely waited for it to come to a stop before you opened the door and climbed in, not caring to observe the proper etiquette.

“Cold, miss? It’s a chilly mornin’ innit?” The driver chuckled, shouting loudly as he snapped the reins, urging the horses to return to their steady gait. “Don’t worry; we’ll get you back inside soon enough.”

“Ah, yes… It is a bit chilly.” You smiled and brushed your actions off with a laugh, but the feeling of dread still weighed heavily on your heart.

Even the horses seemed restless, rolling their eyes and tossing their well-groomed manes back and forth as they plodded eastward. You were grateful to finally see some sense of normalcy as you reached Victoria Street, where people of all ages milled around, setting up their businesses both on and off the street. Shops opened their doors, and street vendors set out their wares, squabbling loudly over placement and price. You smiled wryly as a young boy snatched a steaming pie from the corner of a table, eyes shining with delight as he shoved the greasy pastry into his mouth. He disappeared into the teeming crowd with the shopkeep still blissfully unaware of the theft.

The sight was as endearing as it was heart-wrenching; the cute little boy probably stole out of sheer necessity. If he hadn’t stolen the pie, there was a good chance he wouldn’t have eaten at all today, even in this area of the city. You suddenly felt guilty that you had the privilege of being able to turn down breakfast.

“So much needs to change,” you murmured, drumming your gloved fingers against the lacquered side of the carriage. Most of the people from the upper crust simply wanted to hide the poor away; their attitude was just to keep them out of sight and out of mind.

Your thoughts continued as you looked off into the alleyways and then glanced eastward to where the worst parts of London were concealed. If your family had their way, you’d have never known those parts of the city existed; you’d have been kept on a pedestal in the opulent West End. To them, all you needed was decorative knowledge meant to accent your pretty face and attract a rich husband, but no one had counted on your tenacity. You had been too intelligent, too fierce of a little girl, always demanding answers from your tutors, rejecting their half-baked excuses about the world and how it worked.

Before long, you figured out that not all people grew up similarly. You fished stories out of maids and butlers, learning about how other people suffered in the cruel workhouses and filthy alleyways hidden in the background of the city you loved. But the most appalling thing by far was how little your parents and their wealthy friends seemed to care.

When you turned ten, you convinced Misato to help you sneak out for the first time, mainly by threatening to go even if she refused to be your accomplice, and from that night on, you began exploring the real London. When your parents thought you were safely locked away in your room practicing embroidery, you were actually exploring the streets wearing ragged clothes “borrowed” from the nearest bin. It was dangerous and wholly irresponsible for a lady like yourself, and if anyone found out, your reputation and life would be ruined forever…. So, of course, you loved it.

“It’s no wonder I ended up here, in the last place a ‘lady’ should ever be.” You murmured, smiling as the carriage finally jolted to a stop outside the stately, brick-and-stone building at 4 Whitehall Place. The driver opened your door with practiced ease, and you entered Scotland Yard’s world of cops and criminals.

“Odd, there’s so few people here…” You murmured, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as you walked in and reached your desk.

Typically, the station was filled with men waiting on their orders for the day or waiting to go on patrol. The few men who were present milled about restlessly, and most wore the trademark blue peeler uniform. However, two men were notably different; they were dressed in everyday clothes and stood off to the side of the Chief Inspector’s office. If you didn’t know better, you could’ve guessed they were gentlemen who simply wandered in off the streets.

“I haven’t seen those two before. They must be detectives.” You pieced together, noting the tension that hung heavily around them.

The two men were certainly young to be detectives, but one seemed more experienced and slightly calmer than his counterpart. They each wore black frock coats and trousers, but from there, the appearance differed. The composed man had kind eyes and tawny, disheveled hair covered with a bowler hat, whereas his friend sported a red vest, fluffy hair, and no hat. He looked younger and full of nervous energy; for some reason, his hair seemed oddly…. pink?

You sighed, chalking it up to a trick of the light as you set up your desk for the day. In a valiant attempt to neutralize your own nervous energy, you began to clean your typewriter, stealing glances at the young detectives, trying to parse together what was going on from snippets of their conversation.

“Do you really think- how long will it take?”

“I don’t know, just wait and see.”

Suddenly, two more men you did recognize walked into the room without fanfare. Chief Inspector Yaga led a tall, serious-looking blonde man over to the others, and your heart fell through your chest at the expression on his face. Not many of the detectives treated you well, but in all the time you’d worked there, Detective Inspector Nanami Kento had never failed to greet you with a small smile and a polite greeting every morning at the bare minimum.

This morning, however, his expression could have cut through stone. The stoic man’s lips were set into a cold, hard line, and he didn’t even notice your presence. His dark eyes glittered in intense concentration, and the two young men snapped to attention as soon as he approached them.

Something has happened. Those aren’t the eyes of the gentleman I know… that’s the gaze of a detective entirely focused on his case.

Scotland Yard and its detectives were no strangers to tragedy and brutal events. They carried the weight of investigating the most unspeakable acts people could inflict on each other, but you had never seen DI Nanami look quite this grim. You watched the four men talk quietly for what seemed like ages before they finally walked over to your desk. Chief Inspector Yaga looked you up and down with a critical gaze as if to size you up.

“How can I help you this morning, sir?” You met his eyes calmly, the feeling of dread rising, squeezing your heart once again.

“You’ve been with us for almost two years now, correct?” His gruff voice rumbled through you like thunder promising an oncoming storm.

“That’s correct, sir.”

“And you’ve never had any-” He paused, gesturing around as if searching for the correct word, “trouble with the cases up until now?”

Nanami’s chiseled jaw clenched as the Chief Inspector questioned you. He seemed to be looking just past your face, staring at a spot on the wall in a manner that seemed as though he was willing it to spontaneously catch fire. You didn’t try to hide the way your brow furrowed in concern at the question.

“Trouble, sir?”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Deep, dark bruises were blooming under the man’s eyes; it looked as if he had gotten little-to-no sleep for weeks. “I know you’ve certainly heard… more than a few disturbing things in your time here. The paperwork you tend to has details of crimes, and you’re around the men every day…. God knows they don’t know when to hold their tongues.”

You nodded along, still confused and growing exponentially more concerned. His words were true; you’d certainly heard more than your share of gory details from the policemen as they returned from their patrols, whether it was just accidentally overheard or they told you directly as if it would impress you.

“Well… It is never enjoyable, but I deal with it in the same way the men do, sir.” You pointed out deftly, unwilling to seem fragile.

Nanami remained grimly silent, but a small smile played across the corner of his lips as Yaga watched you closely. After a moment of silence, the burly DCI sighed again. “Then there’s a job for you. I am about to ask more of you than I would like to, but you’ve excelled at your current position, and this situation calls for related skills.”

For the briefest moment, you could’ve sworn that you saw Nanami’s fist clench at his side. Still, the stoic man stayed silent as Yaga continued on, “You’ll be working under DI Nanami, and your main responsibility will be to organize and keep a running record of the evidence as it comes in. You’re to help them keep track of any papers they need to revisit during their investigation. Other duties will be assigned as needed.”

Yaga nodded stiffly and walked back to his office, shutting the door firmly as if to signal the finality of his decision. You looked up at Nanami with concern, as the man had barely moved since he arrived at your desk; he still looked silently furious. “Are you… do I need to do anything right now?”

His mood seemed to shift to calm in an instant. “No, nothing right now. I’ll have a file to give you as soon as I return, but I do need to introduce the case to you so that you’re not blindsided when you… see it.”

Nanami motioned for the two young detectives to step forward, “First, this is DC Itadori, and this is DS Ino. They will also be working under me for this case; if you have any issues and I’m unavailable, you can go to them.”

The two young men tilted their heads in polite acknowledgment as they were introduced, each giving you a small smile, almost like the one Nanami usually reserved for you.

Ino spoke first, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Even under these circumstances.”

Itadori nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! It isn’t often we get to work with a-”

“And I think it’s time for us to go secure transportation to the scene. You’ll have to excuse us.” Ino butted in quickly, placing a firm hand on Itadori’s shoulder and hauling the young man away, blatantly ignoring his noises of protest.

You turned back to the Detective Inspector, whose expression was unreadable as he sighed, “He means well. Please forgive him.”

A small, reassuring smile touched your lips as you gazed up at Nanami, “I’m not offended, Detective. I’m no shrinking violet and a bit of levity won’t go amiss every now and then.”

Your small quip made the blonde man chuckle lowly despite the situation. “I’m well aware. But this case….” His expression shifted once again. “I don’t like involving you in it.”

Hurt shot through you, stabbing through your heart with a dull ache. You had worked alongside him for two years, and he’d never seemed like the other men who constantly doubted your abilities for the supposed sin of being born a woman. You liked this man; you had trusted him.

“Do you really not think I can be of help?” You frowned as indignation seared through your veins.

You must’ve looked truly hurt because Nanami shook his head. “It has nothing to do with ability. You should know that I hold your abilities in high regard, but…” he said softly, “this case- it’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before, and you should never have to see things like this. No one should.”

Your firey attitude froze instantly, turning to shame as you realized his true intent. “Forgive me, I’m used to….”

A flush crept across your cheeks as you took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of your skirt and regaining your professionalism.

Why is it so easy for me to make a fool out of myself in front of you?

“ I understand,” he murmured, studying the typewriter in front of you with a strange intensity. “You may as well come into my office and have some tea.”

–

It took you no time at all to understand exactly why everyone seemed on edge and why the Detective Inspector was so affected by the case. You had read files of violence, murder, and rape before, but what Nanami had to sit down and tell you was beyond all of that. There was a monster, some sick freak brutalizing and murdering women throughout the streets of Whitechapel. He toyed with and desecrated their bodies, and all evidence suggested that he had acted multiple times and was going to continue unless he was caught or killed. This wasn’t some random act of criminal violence or murder of passion committed by a jilted lover…. this was something only the devil himself could be capable of.

The warmth of the teacup against your hands brought you some comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink any of the tea. Your stomach roiled violently; you were suddenly immensely glad you’d skipped breakfast as Nanami softly explained what had happened to the women and the events that led to Yaga deciding that you’d join his team.

“They found another body this morning,” he spoke plainly, but his deep brown eyes roamed over your face, his expression full of gentle concern. “Worse than the last, even.”

You glanced at the thick file in front of you, your stomach lurching as your eyes landed on the sketch of the previous victim. If it was only growing worse… God, you couldn’t even imagine…. The room suddenly felt too hot, your corset too constricting as you leaned forward, fighting the bile that rose in your throat.

Nanami was by your side instantly, his large hand warm and soothing on your back as he knelt beside you with surprising grace. “If you don’t want to do this…. I understand. I swear I do. Just say the word, and I’ll have you home.”

It took a brief moment, but you swallowed thickly and straightened up, your eyes glittering in determination as you gazed down at the kneeling man. “No. I can’t- I won’t- sit idly by, knowing I had a chance to help, even if it’s just in a small way.”

An entire moment passed as the two of you stared into each other’s eyes. Nanami rested his hand on yours for a brief moment, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you could feel your brain short-circuit. You were much closer to a bachelor than society would deem appropriate, but the desire to uphold proper values wilted against your need for comfort.

The moment was over quickly, and the Detective stood, brushing dirt off his tan pants. “It’s time for me to head out to the crime scene. I’d like you to use my office while I’m gone.”

Nanami gave you an achingly soft smile, the exact smile you had craved before he tugged his coat on, slid his unique, round glasses into place, and left the room.

–

Weeks turned into months, but the monster who called himself Jack the Ripper still hunted the women of Whitechapel. It didn’t take long for the press to run with the story, drawing more attention to Jack than his victims. An endless flow of letters and tips began to pour in every day, and the monster had even penned a few himself, mocking the police for not being able to catch him yet.

You spent every day working beside Nanami, who insisted you move into his office, claiming you could work more comfortably there. The attraction you felt towards the stoic detective grew as you spent more time with him, sharing the intimate workspace. He was always so busy and stressed beyond measure, but he was unfailingly kind and considerate of you. In return, you went above and beyond your assigned duties to care for him. You ensured that Nanami ate as regularly as possible, brewed him tea when he was having a particularly hard day, and provided him companionship.

You had always known that Nanami was intensely intelligent and focused, but he truly gave all of himself to this case. Unfortunately, the Ripper seemed to be a shade able to pass through walls for all the helpful clues he left behind. You watched, feeling utterly helpless, as the pile of bodies grew and the dark circles under Nanami’s eyes deepened. Despite putting on a brave face, he seemed frustrated and permanently exhausted; if you had to guess, he even slept at his desk some nights.

As the case progressed and even more women were killed, Nanami made it a point to make sure you were safe, even though you lived on the opposite end of London from where the murders occurred. You reassured him that you’d be fine, but he still gifted you a small firearm, a Derringer, that you kept tucked in your handbag every single day as both a good luck charm and a deterrent. The detective also insisted on escorting you home at night, and on the rare nights he was unavailable, he sent Ino or Itadori in his stead.

However, most nights, you only waited inside for an hour or two before sneaking back to the streets. You were convinced the people who frequented the bustling pubs and taverns of Whitechapel had to have more information. Many people weren’t keen on sharing any information with the police, but you knew they’d talk amongst themselves and certainly to a pretty girl at the bar. You knew it wasn’t smart, but you were determined to help in every way possible; too many women were living in fear. However, a small part of you did know that you were also desperately trying to ease Nanami’s burden.

Even though you were determined, you still felt incredibly guilty about the situation. It would undoubtedly drive Nanami mad with worry if he knew what you were up to, but you promised yourself that it was safe enough, that you’d always sneak back home before nightfall. You had even planned only to visit pubs on Whitechapel Road itself, knowing that proximity to the main road made your outings safer. Weeks passed as your covert outings continued without a hitch, but one night, everything changed. You had been far too distracted by the bartender you were conversing with, and before you realized it, the sun had fully set. You might’ve been right on the main road, but you were alone in Whitechapel after dark, where the monster was certainly lurking in the shadows.

Every bump in the night made your heart seize in fear as you started down the street, desperately heading back toward safety. You managed to make a decent headway, but the sound of a familiar voice stopped you dead in your tracks. Nervously, you glanced around to find DC Itadori at the building right in front of you, blissfully unaware of your presence as the young man chatted with a passerby.

You knew that the proper thing to do would be to approach him for help, to admit that you had made a mistake, but you couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of your mind that whispered, “You know he’d tell Nanami, right?”

Telling DC Itadori would be bad enough, but the thought of his mentor being disappointed in you or even hurt by your actions made your heart lurch.

“It’ll be just a quick detour,” you promised yourself as you turned and headed down the closest alleyway.

Your journey was fine for the first few minutes, but it didn’t take long for you to garner unwanted attention. Your dress lacked the finery you usually wore, but it was still the dress of a respectable woman, and this dark alley was no place for any woman. Drunken men leered at you from every shadow, trying to coax you closer. You ducked and weaved your way out of their clumsy attempts to grab you, but you were forced to run down alley after alley to avoid them. The familiar weight of the Derringer that you’d tucked into your garter was the only comfort you had as you fled deeper and deeper into the heart of Whitechapel. An icy chill crept down your spine as you grew painfully aware that you’d gotten lost in the maze of alleyways.

Thick, oppressive fog curled throughout the already cramped alley as you hurriedly turned the next corner, only to hit a dead end. Your blood ran cold, and tears of exhaustion and fear ran down your face as you glanced around, desperately trying to figure out where you were, but it was useless. The fog was too dense, and you were too lost. Two sets of footsteps were still following you. You could hear them approaching faster and faster, and you shrank back into the corner in fear, reaching under your skirts for the cool metal of the pistol as a last resort-

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of a brief scuffle around the corner, followed by the sickening crunch of a nose shattering. A man yelled out in pain; you could hear him sprinting back down the alley as another voice rang out into the night, “Miss, are you alright?”

You could’ve wept at the achingly familiar, husky tone as your Detective Inspector appeared out of the gloom, lantern in hand.

“I seem to have made a mistake,” You managed weakly.

Nanami froze instantly at the sound of your voice. He raised the lantern to illuminate your tear-stained face, and a look of sheer horror broke over his handsome features. You crumpled against the wall, and the Detective Inspector rushed forward to support your body, his strong arms cradling you with breathtaking gentleness.

“Are you hurt?” He asked quickly as his gaze scanned you over systematically, desperately searching your body for any sign of injury.

“No, just cold, afraid….. and more than a little ashamed. Thank you for saving me.” You admitted meekly, fighting the urge to lean into his warmth.

Nanami groaned audibly in relief, tipping his head back as if thanking god. His arms tightened around you slowly as he embraced you, holding you against his broad chest while you shook with latent fear. You flushed furiously as you reciprocated his embrace, drawing enough comfort from his presence for your heartbeat to calm.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “let’s get you somewhere safe, and then you can tell me why you’re out here.”

“I can’t go home. It’s too late; I won’t be able to get back in until morning when my maid returns. Perhaps I should rent a room here for the night? No one will know me this far out. I do have some money.” You rambled, trying to keep from crying even more.

Nanami sighed, stepping back slightly to look into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you out here alone. It won’t be ‘proper,’ but I’d like to take you somewhere where I know you’ll be safe.”

You felt a pulse of clarity flow through you, and you placed a hand on his muscular forearm, gently squeezing it in reassurance. “I trust you.”

The detective’s warm, brown gaze softened as he saw the honesty written across your face.

“One more question, then. Do you think you’re up to walking? I could carry you, but that may draw more unwanted attention.”

You shifted on your feet, testing them out. “I think I’ll be alright.”

Nanami smiled down at you before deftly unfastening his tan, woolen greatcoat. He draped it over your shoulders with heartbreaking gentleness, ignoring your mild noises of protest as he secured it around you.

“It’s cold tonight,” was all he said as he offered you his arm.

You held onto him tightly, instantly comforted by his solid frame and the quiet strength Nanami carried himself with, even in a tense situation like this. You had never been more terrified only moments ago, but now you felt safe and protected, almost warm despite the cold air around you.

“Thank you…. It is quite comforting.” You murmured.

Nanami smiled down at you briefly before guiding you through the maze of alleyways, letting you dictate the pace. Funnily enough, the fog seemed to dissipate as the two of you walked down the streets of London together. You could see the stars twinkling above you, and if you didn’t know better, the two of you could’ve been a couple out on a nighttime stroll together.

Time passed quickly as you walked together in comfortable silence, and soon, you arrived at a comfortable-looking townhouse near Bedford Square. Nanami unlocked the door without any preamble, ushering you inside out of the cold. He led you up the stairs into a tastefully furnished drawing room with a beautiful bay window that overlooked a moonlit garden.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he encouraged, leading you towards a plush settee. Nanami busied himself with lighting the ornate fireplace as you curled up against the arm of the furnishing, still wrapped up in his coat. You snuggled against the soft wool, surreptitiously enjoying how it smelled of his fresh, woody cologne undercut with the deeper scent you could only describe as his.

As soon as Nanami finished tending to the fire, he began to pace around the room in a manner you knew meant that he was thinking deeply about something.

“What is it?” You asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

He took a deep breath and stopped pacing, turning to look at you. Nanami’s expression held no anger as the firelight flickered across his face, but a profound sadness filled his beautiful brown eyes as he spoke, “I don’t think you understand what it would’ve done to me if you were the next body found.”

You dropped your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as Nanami continued his pacing, “When I realized it was you in the alley, I- I thought the absolute worst had happened.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing even more frantic as he tousled the normally neat blonde strands. “You must know by now…. You have to know…”

Nanami turned to you once again, dropping his arms to his side in defeat. “I love you.” He rasped, voice raw with emotion. “I’ve known for months. I didn’t think I could court you properly until I caught this bastard, so I didn’t say anything. You don’t deserve to be associated with me if I fail, but after tonight, I just can’t take it anymore. I understand if you say no, if you need a better man, but-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. In the blink of an eye, you flung yourself across the room and into his arms. Nanami caught you in surprise, scarcely able to believe he wasn’t dreaming as you clutched desperately at his sides. Uncontrollable tears fell from the corners of your eyes as you gazed at him in unabashed adoration.

“I love you too,” you confessed, “ I don’t think a better man exists.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Nanami smiled lovingly, softly as he leaned down to press a slow, feather-light kiss against your forehead. You sighed in bliss, and the detective breathed deeply as if he hadn’t had fresh air in months. Months of stress and fear melted away from both your bodies, the negative emotions paling in comparison to the warmth of your love. Nanami ghosted more kisses across your cheeks and nose, taking his time to savor every inch of your beautiful skin before finally pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss was soft and sweet. Your eyelashes fluttered shut, and you acted purely on instinct, leaning further into his embrace. One of Nanami’s strong, steady hands moved to cup your waist, holding you like precious china as your lips parted from the chaste kiss. As you shared another intimate breath, his other hand slid under your chin, tilting you forward to capture your lips again.

“Marry me.” He mouthed against you, voice rough with emotion. “Let me protect you, love you, worship you. I want to hold you in my arms, to keep you by my side until I die.”

“Yes,” you nearly pleaded, clawing at the material of his blue vest in an attempt to somehow pull him closer. “Kento, please…. I’m yours.”

He groaned desperately at the intimacy of his first name on your lips as his hand moved from your waist to wrap around your back possessively. Nanami trailed his other hand to cup your jaw as he kissed you even more passionately, almost devouring you whole. You had kissed before, but it was only mild, adolescent flirtations with boys you didn’t bother to remember; it was nothing like this. This kiss was searing, threatening to burn you from the inside out if you stopped for even a second. Your chest lay flush against Nanami’s, your body moving against his in a way that made his trousers grow uncomfortably tight.

Nanami realized instantly and broke the embrace, stepping back to hide the way his cock strained against the fabric. The desirous look in your eyes and your attempt to follow him nearly shattered his resolve completely, but he touched your shoulder gently.

“It will get increasingly hard for me to remain the gentleman you deserve if we continue.” He warned breathily, a light dusting of pink gracing his cheekbones. “If you need, I can go stand outside until morning.”

A whimper left your kiss-swollen lips. Your body ached in a way you’d never felt, craving the sweet burn of his touch in places you’d rarely explored yourself. The world felt hazy and syrupy as you tried to regain your mind, but it was a futile task. Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples sensitive as they rubbed against the fabric of your chemise.

“That’s not what I need,” you pleaded, and Nanami shuddered.

“Can you tell me what you do need?” He murmured, taking a tiny step towards you.

“Kento, I-I’ve never done this before,” you stammer, blushing furiously and shrinking back in embarrassment.

Immediately, Nanami is at your side, holding you tightly once again. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling. I wouldn’t love you less either way. All it means is that we’re on equal footing here.”

He pulled you into another hug, intent on soothing you further as your mind spun.

“You’ve never….?” You questioned softly.

“No,” Nanami murmured, “I haven’t been with anyone.”

“That does make me feel better,” you admitted, biting the swell of your lower lip. “What I’m feeling right now is new…. strange, even. I want you to touch me so badly that it hurts.”

Nanami groaned again, pulling you against his broad chest; he could easily feel your heart racing, and he wasn’t faring much better.

“Do you want me to touch you now, or do you want me to wait?” He asked, voice deadly calm.

“I think I’ll die if you wait,” you pleaded, pawing against his vest again.

He chuckled roughly, grasping your wrist and pulling it to his lips. Your breath hitched as he kissed the tender skin of your pulse point, savoring the way your pulse raced under his touch. Without further preamble, Nanami reached down for your skirts, slowly drawing the fabric up past the soft leather of your garters. He reached down, tracing up your thigh with his fingers until they caught the cool metal of the Derringer, which you had completely forgotten about.

Nanami tugged it free as he kissed you once again. He smiled into the embrace, pulling you with him as he stepped over to set the small gun on a nearby table. You glanced at him in astonishment, unsure how he had known. As soon as the firearm was safely put away, he scooped you up into his arms with another soft laugh, “Darling, what kind of detective would I be if I didn’t know?”

You smiled up at him, “I suppose you do have a point, darling.”

He sighed in bliss as you turned the affectionate nickname against him. You traced your hands up Nanami’s broad chest greedily, slipping them over his shoulders for support as you leaned in for yet another desperate kiss, unable to sate your desire for his lips. He somehow managed to walk and return the kiss at the same time, only stumbling slightly as he brought you into another room.

You giggled against him, and he smiled, devouring the sweet sounds and eager to hear more. Nanami leaned down, setting you gently on his large bed. He pulled back to gaze at you in utter adoration, loosening his golden cravat and undoing the buttons of his blue brocade vest. He discarded them both, leaning forward to cage you between his arms as you drank in the sight unashamedly.

“You know it isn’t proper for me to see you in just your shirtsleeves yet,” you teased, snaking your hands up his arms and growing bold enough to nip at his bottom lip.

“I don’t think anything that we are about to do is too ‘proper,’” Nanami smiled affectionately as he circled his hands around your corseted waist, pulling you forward to sit at the edge of the bed. He unfastened your boots, caressing your stocking-covered feet gently as he set your shoes to the side. Afterward, his hands returned to your waist, meeting in the middle to trace over the small buttons of your green bodice.

“May I?” He implored, voice low and breathy with anticipation.

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Please.”

Nanami’s deft fingers began to undo button after button, exposing the other layers of clothing underneath as he went. You’d chosen to forego wearing a camisole, as none of your outerwear was fine enough to need protecting, so he was immediately met with the sight of your corset and the lip of your chemise beneath. The silken chemise you favored was thin enough to be nearly transparent, and Nanami’s breath hitched at the sight of your pebbled nipples peeking over the top of your corset.

He knelt slightly, enraptured by the sight of your breasts rising and falling with every breath you took. Nanami stared at you ravenously as his breathing grew heavier. You blushed prettily, shrugging the bodice off as the once-stoic detective’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His hands dug into the fabric of his duvet as he fought the urge to caress and kiss every part of your body.

“I want to explore every part of you with my hands and tongue,” he confessed with a groan. “I can’t hold myself back much further, but promise that you’ll stop me immediately if I make you uncomfortable.”

You noticed the pupils of his brown eyes were blown wide and dark with lust as he looked at you, fully enraptured but waiting for your response. His expression forced an involuntary whimper to tumble from your lips, and the heat in your core spiked once again.

“I promise, but please… I didn’t think I could feel something like this.” You begged sweetly, guiding his large, warm hand to rest on the swell of your breasts.

He caressed the area gently, watching your face as his clever fingers explored your soft curves. You sighed in delight as he squeezed and traced the barely-covered skin, prompting him to investigate further. His fingertips grazed your nipple, and your back arched instantly, mouth parting in a perfect “O” at the waves of pleasure that shot through you. Nanami’s gaze grew half-lidded and hazy; he squeezed the small bud in response, and you outright moaned as your core clenched in need.

“Feels good?” He purred, utterly shameless in wanting to learn your pleasure.

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak, as you pulled his other hand to your back. He knelt on the floor, pulling you to stand over him as he reached around to unfasten your skirts and small bustle. They dropped to the floor, and he leaned forward to pepper kisses across your stomach and the tops of your thighs. You couldn’t feel his lips directly for the corset and chemise still in the way, but you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours. The intimacy of him kneeling before you, kissing your body so hungrily, made you throb with need once more. Acting on pure instinct once again, you began to rub your thighs together, desperate to relieve the ache.

He reached for the strings of your corset, successfully untying the knot. Nanami felt around for a moment before leaning back to look the silk and leather garment up and down. The detective chuckled lowly, “Would you mind helping me, darling? This is the first I’ve dealt with a corset, and I’m afraid it’s not as straightforward as the other layers.”

You gazed down at him in adoration, guiding his arms to grasp different parts of the lacing.

“Pull here…. and here.” You murmured, and the corset loosened under your combined ministrations, finally becoming loose enough for you to unfasten the busk.

Nanami watched breathlessly as it fell. He grasped the hem of your chemise, the final major barrier separating him from your soft skin, and rose from his kneeling position to pull it over your head. Finally, you stood before him fully topless, and he shuddered in desire as he removed your drawers.

He picked you up again, setting you back on the bed to work on the layers of his clothing. You whined in protest, wanting to undress him as he had explored you, but he simply shushed you, only speeding up his movements as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Darling, I promise you that we will have ample time for you to undress me later…. but right now, I need you, or I’m going to fully lose my mind.”

Nanami was barely able to choke out the words as he threw his shirt aside, granting you a beautiful view of his muscular chest and the smattering of honey-blonde hair that covered it. His arms were just as well-built, and you bit your lip once again, squirming on top of his sheets as you watched him. Nanami hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers, drawing your attention to a patch of coarser blonde hair that trailed down his lower stomach, hinting at what you’d see next.

You felt hot, fully and shamelessly filled with lust as you stared at the outline of his thick cock tenting the fabric. Nanami groaned as he saw your reaction, palming his erection as he started towards you, only clad in his trousers.

“Lay back for me, darling,” he cooed, guiding you onto the mattress. It dipped beneath his weight as he joined you, running his fingers over your leather garters. He pulled them down with his teeth, pressing kisses to the bare skin that forced a litany of moans and pleas from your lips as he rid you of your stockings. Dimly, you realized the space between your thighs was sticky with your own arousal. Nanami realized a split second after you, trailing his fingers up to your core after disposing of the garters and stockings.

“You’re beautiful, gorgeous…. Perfect.” His deep voice rumbled against your ear as he traced his finger through your folds. You shivered and moaned in response, your legs falling open even further, begging for him to explore more. He slid up on the bed next to you, leaning down to kiss your bare, sensitive breasts as he toyed with your soaked cunt.

Nanami carried on like that for a few minutes, noting that you grew the most desperate as he circled the small pearl of flesh at the top of your sex. He caressed it, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that his ministrations made you beg for more and whimper his name. Tension coiled in your stomach as he gently circled the puffy bud and kissed you passionately, relishing the taste of his name on your lips. It didn’t take long for that tension to snap in your stomach like an elastic band, and your back arched off the bed as you came hard.

He growled praises into your ear, teasing his fingers into you as your cunt spasmed around nothing. “My future wife… a goddess.”

Your eyelashes fluttered shut in a moment of discomfort that soon gave way to the blissful feeling of being filled. There was no pain as the other women had complained of; your world was a haze of syrupy bliss as your lover prepared you with his fingers, gently stretching your velvet walls.

Nanami rutted his hips against the bed, delaying his own pleasure until you were ready for him to truly fill you. The two of you moaned and sighed, almost in sync.

“You’re so soft and wet,” he cursed under his breath. “I won’t last much longer… Do you think you’re ready?”

You leaned up to kiss him passionately, mouthing your desperate assent against his lips. Nanami unbuttoned his trousers, unclothing his lower half in record time as you lay back against the sheets, eyes fully glazed over with lust. He spread your legs, slotting his hips between them, and you felt the swollen tip of his cock kiss your needy sex as he positioned himself properly. The two of you were panting, moaning together like animals in heat as he pushed in slowly, desperately trying not to hurt you. You cried out at the stretch, digging your nails into his back, the pain pulling another guttural moan from your lover. Any discomfort quickly turned to blinding pleasure as he sank into you fully.

Nanami paused arduously, his cock twitching, desperately begging for him to move.

“Tell me… when.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth, his expression almost a grimace as he fought the urge to thrust into you.

The warmth and pressure of his body, the feeling of being stuffed full, the feeling of his cock twitching inside you… It was all too much. Your fingers scrabbled at his back, desperate for purchase, as you whined, high-pitched and needy in response. “Now, please- oh, God. Need you now.”

Nanami groaned as he began to move his hips slowly, dragging his thick cock along your velvet walls. He began to move slightly faster as you writhed beneath him, your mind too sex-addled to form a coherent thought or sentence as his swollen balls slapped against you.

Your future husband fucked you slowly but thoroughly, filling the room with the salacious sounds of your lovemaking. A familiar tension began to build in your core, and Nanami groaned as your walls squeezed his cock. Unlike earlier, there was almost no warning as you shot straight over the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm, and you cried out desperately.

Nanami growled and cursed against your neck as your cunt milked his cock, desperately begging to be filled.

“So close. Need… need to pull out.” He rasped, almost whining as he left the plush warmth of your sex. You watched him in a lust-filled daze, melting against his sheets as Nanami leaned back, furiously stroking his cock. He grunted and moaned shamelessly, hips still shallowly thrusting against his hand as he desperately sought bliss. His head tipped back as he panted; you could see a beautiful, rosy flush color his chest and neck, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch of it.

Nanami’s thrusts started to falter from their original pace, and you watched, wholly enraptured, as his brows furrowed and his perfect mouth fell open. He came a moment later with a hoarse cry; thick ropes of his seed coated his hands and stomach in spurts. He stroked his cock a few more times, fully milking out his orgasm before collapsing on the bed by your side. You both lay there in silence for a few blissful moments, basking in the warmth and security of each other’s arms.

“I love you,” you whispered, breaking the silence with a smile.

“I love you too, my darling future wife,” Nanami murmured back, entwining his hand with yours.

Tagging some friends: @pseudowho @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty @unoriginalidea @cindyneko-strider @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @starlitnotes @makingtimemine

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami #kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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see-arcane · 9 months

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One tiny thing I’ve noticed in comparing Jonathan’s early pre-Dracula doom writing versus Mina’s is that, regardless of a supernatural element being involved or not, these two are showing one of their many gender role reversals in terms of how they acknowledge Something Being Wrong.

You’ll see everywhere across media how 99 times out of a 100 it’s the girlfriend/wife in a relationship who immediately picks up Bad Vibes from a situation and voices them to a boyfriend/husband who, whether or not he got those same heebie jeebies, will either scoff or try to put on a brave nonbelieving don’t-worry-we’ve-got-this face. But with Jonathan and Mina it’s flipped.

Jonathan suffers queer dreams and some superstitious locals at most when his Dracula Hell starts--the kind of thing protagonists, male protagonists especially, are expected to shrug off or laugh over outright--but he immediately clocks that there is something significantly wrong with his situation and he admits to feeling on the edge of a peril great enough to hope Mina gets his journal if he happens to die on this trip.

Meanwhile, Mina is tap dancing on a tightrope of juggling the issues and anxieties of everyone around her on top of a mounting dread for why Jonathan’s gone blunt and/or silent in his letters. She doesn’t even bother with the ‘oh no, what if it’s another girl?’ cliché. She knows Jonathan, knows his head and his heart and his reality, and the one scrap of correspondence she got, that she had to get from his employer, is not her Jonathan.

And now here’s utter uncharacteristic silence from him.

And here’s Lucy’s worries over Arthur and her returned sleepwalking.

And here’s her forced to play Mrs. Westenra’s confidante and unofficial hired minder to Lucy while she suffers from the sleepwalking.

All the while she writes in a tone of cautious tutting of her own anxiety. Ha ha, don’t be ridiculous, Mina. It will be fine, it will work out, keep yourself together now, don’t fall apart over such little things. Have yourself a nice vent in the diary and keep moving. Look, Lucy is looking better! And really, there’s no need to feel so uneasy about Jonathan either! Probably just trouble with the post, is all. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

It’s just an interesting comparison to see that Jonathan, even before he was performing civility and charm to literally save his neck, clocked the Peril and Bad Vibes from the get-go and allowed himself to rattle off as much in his private writing, whereas Mina keeps herself tight-laced in her concerns even in the face of wholly mundane/realistic fears, not allowing herself to admit that emotional rawness even in her own journal. Yet.

#thinking thoughts about my good friends Jonathan and Mina #mina murray #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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all-things-fic · 10 months

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Jealous Guy / A Quarantine Harry interlude

A/N: Hey everyone…. Long time, no writing. Hope you are all okay? You’ll have seen from the odd ask that I’ve mentioned this one being in my google docs getting dusty. Genuinely I feel that it’s been giving me a mental block on writing anything else, and I think it was because I really thought there should be an element of smut. Re-reading it, that isn’t the case at all.

Happy reading! Speak soon x

He was panicked.

Trembling hands unknowing what to do.

Exhausted of any other option that he once relied upon.

Options that had previously worked. Options that were now failing him quicker than they ever had.

This time his eight-month baby girl was having none of it. Changing a nappy and gently rocking, no longer seemed to work. She was upset and she was letting him and the entire house know it.

“Be good for Daddy, Edie,” he hushed, a quick whisper mumbled against her temple. “‘M trying my best.”

Harry leaned his body back slightly as he turned his attention to trying to remove the lid of the baby bottle with one hand.

Usually she was good for him. The handful of times that he had done any sort of thing - a night feed or shift here or a nappy change there - she had nuzzled into his bare chest and drifted off once more.

The problem was those handful of times had been when she was tiny. And things changed. He hated admitting it to himself but he felt he didn’t know his daughter. The seven month old that he held so securely to him now felt worlds away from the tiny baby whose curled up legs barely reached his belly button when she was first placed to his chest.

He hissed a ‘yes’ as the bottle lid finally gave way, popping off from the teet and allowing him to clasp the bottle. A relief flowed through him as he found confidence to shift his daughter in his arms.

“‘S coming, baby,” he opted for a gentle tone.

Laying on your back, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom and slowly blinked. Cries and grizzles had been non-stop for over thirty minutes now and as much as you loved a trier - and there was no bigger one than Harry - your fingers twitched to offer some form of help no longer wanting to hear the distress.

You knew it would be a tumultuous line to cross. One that he would either be grateful for, or one that would create the faintest amount of resentment.

Trying not to dwell on your thoughts, you pulled back the bedsheet atop your frame and exited your bedroom.

As you rounded the doorframe, you caught Harry with his head rolled back on his neck and face looking up towards the ceiling. It was a picture you had found yourself in many times in the early stages, a level of exasperation radiating off him that could be felt by you from over the other side of the room.

Staying silent as you rested, your eyes took in the way he presented your daughter her feed. His movements were forced, but not forceful, his hand quick to pull away the item each time her tiny hands pushed and pulled at the plastic intrusion.

“We’re not playing, Edie,” Harry said, a hefty sigh rocking through his upper body and over the words.

“She isn’t,” you replied for your daughter.

The sound of your voice had him raising his tired eyes to look at you. While his stare lingered, you noticed it seemed void of any care, almost too lost in logical thought to slow himself down rather than quickly complete the interaction with his first born like a task (of many) on a list.

“Here, let me show you how.”

You slowly pulled yourself away from the doorframe, movement tentative as you approached them both. Gently, you lifted your hand and placed it to the top of your daughter's head, stroking at her hair.

Harry’s body was stockstill as you lifted her tiny body and felt the soft trembles rock through her body from her subsiding distress. If your eyes hadn’t been so taken by your baby, you would have been able to see the dejected expression that laced Harry’s features as he noticed the way she began to soften when in your hold.

Taking on a rocking motion almost immediately, you looked on as Harry loosely held the bottle of milk towards you. You easily took the item from his faint grip, feeling zero resistance. Turning the teat to your daughter, you gently let it rest at her pouty lips.

It didn’t matter that you were mostly fading this out now for solids, not when she needed comfort.

“You need to let her take it when she’s ready,” you softly spoke, voice barely a whisper. “She’ll know when she wants it.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry made his barrier as he set his eyes on the relaxing face of his pride and joy. He took in the motions of your hand as you gently stroked the teet at her mouth and watched it drop open slightly to suckle.

“Sometimes if you let her know it’s there, she’ll do the rest,” you kept your eyes down as you addressed Harry, waiting for her chubby hand to join yours in holding the bottle. “She does this thing if she takes my boob where she nuzzles first and finds my nipple herself.”

Soft eyes looked up at you with a pique of enquistism.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you?” you heard the way your voice lifted as her small hand clasped against yours as you felt a smile lift at your mouth. “And when she’s grabbing, she’s not playing,” you flicked your eyes up towards Harry who stood quietly watching your exchange. You turned your eyes to Edie once more, “She holds it herself sometimes now, cause she’s clever. Aren’t you, Edie? Are you a clever girl for Mommy?”

Breathing deeply Harry found himself unable to continue taking in the two of you.

“Shall we show Daddy how we do it?” You whispered, glancing again towards your husband. Harry took in the eagerness in your gaze but fell short of being able to match you.

Why was he so incompetent?

With downturned lips, he leant in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder from where your dressing gown had slightly fallen open.

Feeling him move around you, you lifted your face to look at him. His body now slightly behind yours.

“Stay,” you asked.

“You’ve got it all in hand.”

“H-“

Feeling his hand slip from your collar, you bowed your head as he walked away before raising it and looking at his retreating figure from over your shoulder.

***

Watching her small body rise and fall with breath, you were confident enough that she was settled to slowly leave the room. Feet softly padded against the carpet, down the landing and back towards your bed.

You found yourself stilling in all movement when you saw his side of the bed still empty. With a soft frown gracing your brow, you quickly swiped up the baby monitor that sat at Harry’s bedside table and turned to walk downstairs.

You were able to make out the dull light that came from your kitchen, once you had walked through the rest of the house which was cloaked in darkness. It was there that you found your husband standing in almost pitch black, besides the light that sat in the extractor fan above your oven.

Harry rested against the kitchen counter, presenting himself in a shape to you that had gone unnoticed due to your lack of closeness since the year prior. He would always be a kind of lanky that exuded he was partial of tripping over his own two feet, but he wore his impending Dad-bod in a way that acknowledged while he had been eating for two, he’d also been working out for two.

You noted his nose rested against the lip of his trusty mug, most likely warm and filled with his favourite coffee. It was something he often did when in thought and you didn’t know if your presence would be welcomed once he came to.

Placing the baby monitor down to the kitchen counter caught his attention, his eyes peering at you across the barely lit room. The silence was deafening.

“Everything okay?”

He hummed, tone flat. A short nod thrown in your direction as he took a sip of his drink and rolled his lips into his mouth to remove them of any moisture the drink had given them.

“You should’ve gone back to bed.”

“So should you.”

You felt a wry smile lift at your lips.

“‘M awake now. I’ll probably just go for m’run or summat,” he continued.

“It’s not even five.”

“Perfect time then, no one’ll be around to harass me.”

He threw back the rest of his coffee, tilting his body slightly to place the mug in the empty sink behind him.

Your eyes looked him over as he stroked at his face, heels of his palms rubbing - almost pressing - into his eyes. He was obviously frustrated.

“Like I’m doing right now, you mean.”

The sigh that left him was one filled with exasperation. “If that’s what you think,” he trailed off, right hand running over his mouth and his day or two old stubble.

You felt yourself close up at his response, the way he seemed dismissive of your comment. Your - or at least you thought - obvious concern. While you didn’t have the desire to fight, his energy was the reason you had come to the conclusion that you were nothing but an annoyance to him in the moment.

The first you realised he had moved was when his hand rested gently at the curve of your waist. The slight pressure against your skin before he stiffly drew you to him. Lips at your hairline, his whisper of “go back to bed” seemed almost a figment of your imagination.

Then he was gone and suddenly it felt cold.

***

His feet pounded the pavement as he reached up to fix the bud of his earphone once the voice of Aaron Bruno had started to fade.

The heave of his chest and the dryness of his throat were two of the main things that kept him going. Blood pumping and fatigue weighing down his legs, he felt his frustration heavily lace his limbs before soaring away into the dark London morning.

Street lamps were still lit, leaving him running with nothing but his shadow and mind racing with bitterness.

It sounded silly, and he was ashamed to admit it but the green-eyed monster within him had openly reared its head above the parapet and Harry felt it would take a lot to push it down once more.

A run usually cured him. Allowed him time to proceed. To realise how minute he really was in the world.

The feeling of the damp air signalled that there would rain at some point, a feeling that would’ve once soothed his soul. Heart pumping out of his chest, reminding him of how alive he was. Not today.

He felt bile rise up the back of his throat causing the harsh stamp of his feet to slow as he approached the wooded area of the street in which he ran.

Body bent over, hands on his knees he threw up his morning coffee, spitting to try and remove the bitter taste from his mouth. Slowly raising to full height, hands now on his hips, Harry tried to catch his breath.

Inhaling through his nose and out his mouth, the tremble of his lower lip threw him off guard. His throat thickened, his blinks quickened. Harsh swallow. Heels of his palm pressed against his eyes as he tried to hold it.

Hands wiped down his face with a harsh pull, he looked up at the sky which had started to get lighter. Worry racked through him as his mind raced. Why was he crying?

***

It was eerily quiet when he finally made it back home with a Gail’s Bakery brown paper back swinging at his side. He tried his hardest to not draw attention to his arrival, the palm of his hand encasing his keys entirely as he laid them gently on the sideboard next to the front door.

Toing his trainers off, one by one, his Nike socks padded against the wooden floors with a stealth that he welcomed. As he walked, he slowly paused in the doorway to the lounge. His eyes found you curled up on the sofa, your favourite throw cushion nestled in the space between your neck and shoulder.

In his silent watchfulness, he thought that there was no way you were comfortable. Surely not. Then he supposed your exhaustion may have gotten the better of you.

With the bag still in hand, Harry approached you and gently placed it onto the coffee table. His hands reached behind you for the throw that had recently become an addition to the back of he sofa, there if ever the need for a quick baby cuddle struck.

As the blanket hit your body, he noticed you move with such a sudden jolt it caused his neck to dart to the right to look at you. Owlish eyes, round and startled, looked back at him. Your right arm had moved upwards, almost to stop his gesture of covering you. His touch somewhat foreign to your recent memory.

“Shit,” he abruptly whispered, more so to himself. “‘M sorry, I didn’t-“

His voice trailed off. Didn’t what? He didn’t mean to wake you? Didn’t mean to be a prick?

Two sets of eyes stared at each other in silence.

The tautness of your body slowly seemed to fade as you came to, Harry steadily lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the coffee table opposite, abandoning trying to cover you.

“What time is it?”

The sound of your tired rasp made his shoulders sag. You really needed the rest, and he’d broken your slumber.

“Just after seven.”

“Must’ve really needed that run.”

Your comment was innocent, though it could’ve been taken snidely. He had been gone longer than he should’ve been.

“I got us breakfast.”

His words were woven with an unspoken peace offering. He felt guilt crawl inside him, slowly starting to eat away at the jealousy within. Selfish, selfish man.

He couldn’t look you in the eye. The ticking of his jaw as he clenched it to fight the burn of his throat once more, at his silent deprecation, which would surely be seen as unjustified.

“Bet you could use a shower first?”

He scoffed a laugh at your suggestion, a faint smile lifting at his lips. “Smell me all the way from over there, eh darlin’?”

The term of endearment warmed you. You felt yourself sink into the cushions beneath you. He was within reaching distance, nowhere near as far as the question would lead to believe. The literal meaning was nonsense, figuratively he had hit the nail on the head.

He chanced a glance at you. “Fancy comin’ wi’me?”

You strangely blushed at his offer, but faintly nodded your head. It felt odd to blush over such a simple request. You supposed part of you felt tension between you both and you appreciated his apparent desire to try and smooth things over.

He stayed seated as you swung your legs out from underneath you and sat so that your right knee brushed against his. Standing, you felt the terracotta silk of your pyjamas brush your skin as you reached to sweep at his hair that was damp from a mixture of morning dew and perspiration.

“Come on then,” you smoothly whispered, hand squeezing lightly at the curve of his shoulder.

Slowly standing, Harry’s front awkwardly bumped into your back, his hand reaching for yours as a way to steady you both.

His touch was clammy when your fingers slotted against his. The knowledge of such a thing calming any nervous edge that fizzled within your being as you led the two of you upstairs.

Harry lingered on the landing as you walked into the bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn it on and let it warm. His feet tread lightly, trying to avoid the lone squeaky floorboard that haunted you both on night feeds.

When he stepped inside he caught you leant over the bath, rearranging the bath toys and trinkets that were placed in a basket to the one corner.

As his eyes dropped to take you in, they noticed the one lone rubber duck that was sitting at your feet. Silently bending, Harry retrieved it before declaring himself in the room with a, “don’t forget ducky.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, taken aback by him being so close. It amused him, his expression alight for the first time over the last few hours.

He watched as your eyes fell to the plastic duck, hand reaching out to take it from his grip. “This thing is the bane of my existence,” you admitted.

“You love it,” his voice was as hushed as yours. “Gets her to laugh every single time, without fail.”

That was one thing he could rely on that hadn’t changed during his time away.

You noticed the slight downturn to his lips as he spoke, before turning to place the duck on the side. “You get in first,” you nudged him. “Let me go undress-“

“Do it here,” he paused, before softly asking “please?” when his hand reached up to brush your hair behind your shoulders. The back of his hand turned to smooth down the silky fabric before dexterous fingers slowly rolled at the buttons of your pyjama top, the two sides giving way.

He bit away his smile as he felt you press his hand to your breast bone, spoiling the fun before the fabric gave way and revealed the swell of your breasts. You saw the way his bottom lip bounced ever-so-slightly when he let it go from the bite of his teeth to say, “Gonna need my hand back to get involved.”

You let it fall.

Harry quickly made use of it and pulled at the collar of his shirt to lift it up and over his head. His socks, shorts and underpants quickly followed only for him to cup his manhood to cover himself as he turned to walk under the warm spray of water.

Next, the silk of your garments satisfying slid down your skin, trousers easy to step out of and top aimlessly forgotten too.

From behind the glass shower door, you watched Harry close his eyes and willed the subconscious frown to relax from his brow.

You stayed silent and looked on. He needed this moment. For the water to fall onto his taut muscles, to loosen and wash away whatever concerns that were weighing him down.

There was something lingering under his skin and while part of you was determined to get it out of him, you knew for the benefit of you both it had to be on his terms.

Opening the shower door, you stepped inside with Harry keeping himself turned away from you, the expanse of his back was impressive as he held his hands flat to the bathroom tiles and let his head hang forward.

You lifted yourself onto your tip toes, arm wrapping around his front to steady yourself as you pressed your lips to the skin on his back.

In reply, he squeezed your hand.

***

As expected the shower had been filled with awkward silences, lingering stares and fumbling feet as you moved around each other to bathe. Harry haa gotten out before you, roughly drying his body and hair before tip-toeing out to peep into Edie’s room. You only knew the last part cause you caught him slowly shutting the door when you left the bathroom underneath your own fluffy towel.

“Fast as a rock,” his voice rumbled, confirming she was indeed still asleep. “I reckon we’ve got another two hours for us before she makes herself known.”

You had softly smiled at his words at the time, not really knowing what to say. He gave you a small smile of his own, as he walked past you and mentioned something about flicking the kettle on as he made his way downstairs.

The two of you were now laid out on the sofa, Harry on his back, legs accommodating you as you lay atop him. Crumbs from the pastries that you’d shared mingled with your skin and sprinkled the plates that sat on your coffee table.

His hands were gently massaging at your shoulder blades as he sang under his breath to John Lennon’s ‘Jealous Guy’. The rumble of his chest was soothing, as you pressed your face further into his pec and inhaled the smell of his freshly washed skin.

The sound of a drowsy sigh caught your attention, your head turning on Harry’s chest to look at the baby monitor that was now directly in your eye line.

A video of a sleeping Edie met your eyes, all content with one arm resting above her head as she remained on her back. You kept silent as you tried to zone in on the coos she was making to see if anything was out ordinary, but she continued to seem satisfied.

“She’s happy dreaming,” you spoke more so to yourself.

“How do you know tha’?”

“Listen to the noises she’s making,” you pointed out, well aware of how you sounded.

A silence fell over both you and Harry, but rather than one of contentment, an awkwardness lingered.

“I’m useless.”

Those two words he spoke were heavy as they broke through. “I’m so- so fuckin’ useless babe.”

You lay still, atop him, a frown forming at your brow as you listened. He wasn’t useless but it wasn’t your time to intervene while he was on his self-loathing train. Not yet.

He quite clearly had a lot to mull over, to speak out loud.

“I have not got a fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’ wi’her. Not one single fuckin’ clue and-“ he sucked in a deep breath that racked through his chest when released. “I’m standing about like a spare part, in the way of you and the incredible job that you're doing for the both of us because-“

“Because what?”

Your voice sounded so unusual to you. So small.

“We all have to start somewhere, sometime-“ you continue.

“No, it’s not that, I know that. It’s because- I feel like I have to when- I guess, I’m making it worse.” He paused. “Every time I come home I’m reminded of my inadequacies and earlier on during my run I actually thought about not coming back because I can’t stand it.”

You felt yourself hold your breath as his confession, body wriggling to try and get out of his hold. His voice was getting breathier and breathier as he spoke and you knew if you pulled yourself up to get a proper look at him, you’d at least find his lips downturned.

The heavy swallow he did next only confirmed that for you.

“I’m so fuckin’ jealous of you,” he croaked. “Of the bond you share. Of,” his voice faded. “Everything, pretty much.”

As he spoke, you lay in silence unsure of how to broach the subject. Did he need you to be supportive, or did he need some tough love?

Before you could stop yourself you felt the bubble of laughter start, the shake of your shoulders underneath his touch.

“Okay,” he started, clearly offended, “alright, I get it. I’m being ridiculous. You can stop laughing at me.”

“Babe,” you started, lifting yourself slightly. As you did so you saw the way his vacant stare lingered on the ceiling, his stubble unnecessarily inviting to you as it peppered his cheeks, chin and underneath. “Harry,” you tried again to get his attention, “I’m not laughing at you. Am I laughing at you telling me this while Jealous Guy is playing in the background? Yes but not at you.”

Listening to your words, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In a matter of seconds he’d turned his head slightly and from this position dropped his eyes to look down the bridge of his nose at you.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “At least not the new things. I am impressed that I’ve made it look like I do.”

From your words, you watched his features soften. “And don’t,” you reached up to hold his chin between your forefinger and thumb. “Don’t think I don’t ever need you, that we don’t need you-“

“Cause we do,” you paused. “But if I’m honest, I’m going to need you to just do it. To just get involved, to make the mistakes and to learn from them because I can’t do it all on my own.”

“I don’t need you dwelling on the fact that she didn’t take a feed from you one time. I need you to suck it up and try again in two hours time when we- you, try her with baby porridge because quite frankly I’m sick of finding it in my hair and I think you should get the enjoyment of experiencing that at least once.”

Seeing the flicker of his lips gave you hope.

“Really nice of you tha’ is,” he started. “To give me tha’ experience.”

“I know. I’m really a giving person in that way.”

A small silence filled your space again. It was a little light this time. Progress.

You let your eyes run over his features once more, hands getting the better of you when the thumb on your right hand tried to work away the lines of worry etched into his forehead.

“We need to learn together, grow together. Help each other,” you hummed, unable to look him in the eye, your own concern of how he’d admitted how he was thinking of leaving ringing far too loudly for you. “We’re stronger together.”

“Look at me,” he requested. You fought against his ask, feeling the burning of your throat appear. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

You swallowed heavily, nodding your head. “So, can you please look at me?”

Two pairs of sad eyes met.

Envy had no rest, and the trouble was you were both already so tired.

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