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joelscurls · 4 months

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a heart for melting

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: post-outbreak, implied age gap, themes surrounding child loss and grief, some angst but mostly festive fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamics (Joel is a grinch & reader loves the holidays), reader is described as having long-ish hair

summary: Jackson's first annual Holiday Market brings about more than just cheer.

a/n: Merry Christmas @thetriumphantpanda; I'm your pedrostories secret santa! I hope you enjoy this lil festive take on grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader — I had lots of fun writing it 🤍🎄 🥧 🪵 🦌

Joel doesn’t want to be here — surrounded by garland and ribbons and so much unadulterated joy, it’s nauseating. No, he was forced to be here.

Please, Ellie had begged, it’ll be good for you to do something other than patrol or drinking with Tommy. Plus, they’re too good to keep to yourself.

They, being wood carvings — the tiny sculptures of deer and bears and birds, tufts of hair and bunches of feathers drawn out of driftwood with the tip of his blade. It was only ever meant to be a hobby, a way to busy his hands after they’d been wrapped around the cold metal of his rifle all day. Something lighter, creative rather than destructive, an act of giving rather than taking.

But sharing them with other people? He hadn’t been interested. Maybe he’d make one for Ellie or Tommy. Wrap it up in a piece of cloth and offer it as a gift for their birthday.

Not that he thought they were any good, really.

With the announcement of Jackson’s first annual Holiday Market, though, came Ellie’s pleading. “I’ll help you,” she’d bargained. “You don’t even have to give me anything!”

“Who said I would anyway?” he’d grumbled, digging his spoon into the bottom of his bowl of stew and sifting out a chunk of meat.

Joel despises the Holiday Season. He’d welcomed its disappearance with the end of the world. Because he had no reason to celebrate, with Sarah gone. Her absence stung like salt in an open wound on any normal day. But on Christmas, memories of her hanging her favorite ornaments on the tree and sneaking one of the cookies baked for Santa burned behind his eyelids. Left him heaving through hot tears.

The holidays had no place in his world, but they certainly had a place in Jackson. The first time he and Ellie had strode through those gates, they’d been met with that damned Christmas Tree, towering over the settlement like a beacon. And he hated it, hated the way it brought about that pounding in his chest and that spinning in his head.

How could anyone find any good in such a poignant reminder of loss?

Tommy says it’s about new beginnings, finding ways to be happy again. And what’s happier ‘n Christmas? God damn Santa Clause, hot chocolate, children singin’ carols?

Still, Joel isn’t convinced — not yet.

Standing across the mess hall, at your table piled high with baked goods, you are far too cheerful. You’re humming some song with a jovial beat, absentmindedly swaying as you rearrange rows of gingerbread and muffins and scones — all of which are draped in white icing, like flocking on Christmas trees. You pause to wish a happy holiday to everyone who passes through.

Joel knows he’s seen you before, flitting in and out of the community’s kitchen, always with that signature smile scrawled across your face.

And god, you’re so bubbly, taking to everyone you meet like a bee to honey, letting them in without a care in the world. Popping from table to table, making sure they have enough to eat. That they’re doing well.

It shouldn’t surprise him that you’re so…spirited, too. You seem to find the good in everyone and everything, after all.

It infuriates him, nonetheless.

Joel groans to himself. Stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as an elderly couple rounds on him.

He grumbles a hello to them when they approach. They offer him half-smiles in return, beginning to pick up some of the carvings laid out on the table — turning them, inspecting them.

“This one’s nice,” the man says to his wife. She hums in agreement.

“You got any tigers?” the man asks.

“Tigers?”

“Yeah — I used to love ‘em as a kid.”

“Got what’s on the table,” Joel grumbles.

“You make ‘em custom? I can offer some homemade jam in return — elderberry.”

Joel sighs in annoyance.

“Don’t make ‘em custom. Got what I got.”

The man seems defeated, nodding and walking off without another word. The woman follows closely behind.

Just as they leave, Ellie appears. She sidles up to Joel and shrugs her jacket off. Pulls a chair up next to him.

“There’s so much cool shit here!” she exclaims, too loud. A judgemental set of eyes flit her direction. She glares right back at them.

“Do you mind?” Joel huffs, jaw ticking.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“How do you even know what Cheerios are?”

“Don’t,” she admits. “I read it in a book.”

“Of course you did.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, pulling an apple out of her backpack and biting into it. She shuffles some of the carvings around on the table. “Gotta fill in these gaps, man,” she says, juice dribbling down her chin.

Joel ignores her. He sneaks a glance at you; finds that you’re already looking. Your expression is unreadable, gaze unmoving as he studies you.

Despite your upbeat disposition bothering him, he can’t deny that you’re gorgeous: bright, beckoning eyes, siren-like smile — it’s like you’re peering into his soul.

He didn’t think he still had one of those.

“Dude.” Ellie nudges him. He peels his eyes from you reluctantly. “I asked how many takers you’ve had.”

“Uh.” He pretends to think.

“You have no fucking idea, do you? Too busy staring at that girl.”

“Wasn’t starin’,” he clips defensively.

“No? Well she’s coming over here, man.”

Sure enough, you’re striding right toward him, abandoning your post. Joel barely has time to prepare for impact.

He unconsciously straightens up and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He brushes them on his jeans just as you stop in front of his table.

“Hi there,” you say.

“Hi!” Ellie chimes.

You pick up a carving of a two-headed deer. His favorite.

“This is beautiful,” you coo. “The craftsmanship is lovely.” You’re running a finger along the grooves in the wood, holding the piece delicately in the palm of your hand — as if it’s made of glass, not wood. “You have a real gift…”

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat. He ignores how sweet his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You tell him your name, and it fits you, he thinks. It’s pretty.

“How long have you been making them?”

“Just since I got to Jackson. ‘ts somethin’ to pass the time.”

You nod. Continue scanning over the intricacies of the deer. “I was never much of a baker before I got here, either,” you joke, gesturing back toward your table.

“Good one,” Ellie laughs. “You’re funny — isn’t she funny, Joel?”

In his head, he’s glowering at her. Outwardly, he feigns amusement.

“Real funny.”

“I’d love to see how you make these sometime,” you say, then, placing the deer back on the table gingerly. “Do you have a workshop?”

“In our shed,” Ellie pipes in before he can say anything. “You should come by tomorrow! Joel’s off patrol.”

He shoots her daggers. She pretends not to notice.

“I’d love that! I have to work in the kitchen, though. I could come by after?”

Joel starts to shake his head no. Ellie’s hand wraps around his arm like a vice grip. He stills.

“Sure,” he grits.

“I can bring some pastries, if you’d like.”

“Don’t like sweets.”

“Oh,” you say, a little thwarted, but you’re undeterred. You shift on your feet. Chew your bottom lip. “Well, how about something not sweet, then?”

Your brows lift, narrowed eyes on him as you await a response. Joel still isn’t thrilled about the prospect of a visitor. Really, he doesn’t like anyone on his property that isn’t Ellie, or Tommy and Maria if he’s invited them. But you don’t seem so bad, offering to bring him food.

He can probably deal with your sunny disposition in exchange for a full belly. Lord knows he went too long without that luxury, and he’d be a fool to deny himself of it ever again.

So, he agrees, the garbled sure less than enthusiastic leaving his mouth. Still, you don’t seem too offended. In fact, you smirk at him, wordlessly sauntering back to your table, sneaking glances at him every so often for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sure enough, the next evening, while Joel is whittling in the shed, you show up.

You’re wielding a basket of savory hand pies, as promised, and Joel has to stop himself from drooling. They smell incredible. And they’re still warm, somehow, steam wafting off of them even after your walk here.

“Come in,” he gruffs, his nose following the scent like a dog’s as he trails behind you inside.

His set up is minimal: a rocking chair next to a bench, a couple stools he made for when Tommy comes by to play poker. But his works are scattered throughout, every surface in the small room cluttered with little carvings.

He settles atop one of the stools as you begin to wander around the room, plucking sculptures off shelves and awing at them with such genuine admiration, it causes something to pull in his chest.

Every so often, you make a remark about the details in a piece, how the fur on the deer looks real, how you can practically smell the replica evergreen in your grasp.

And something shifts — carried by your kind words through the stuffy shed.

Taken by the slight lilt in your voice when you speak to him, the almost-shy smile that pulls at the corners of your lips — Joel is attracted to you.

He’s following the line of your neck down to your collarbone, ogling at the exposed skin there when you pick another carving up off the shelf. And he feels guilty — he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re just being nice, being neighborly, and he’s gawking at you like you’d have any interest in him.

No; you’re young, beautiful, could do a lot better than an old grump like him.

He averts his gaze quickly when you suddenly set down the tiny, carved bird that had been in your palm, round the workbench and perch yourself atop the stool next to his. You retrieve a handpie out of the basket and pass it over to him.

“It has braised rabbit and carmelized onions in it,” you explain, taking a bite and letting the steam roll out.

He follows suit and — it tastes just as good as it smells, if not better. He’s salivating again, letting the dough melt in his mouth before swallowing.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, getting through the entire basket in mere minutes.

When you’re finished, you ask him where he’s from.

The question shouldn’t feel like such a shock to the system. But after a year of being in Jackson, successfully avoiding conversation about his life before the outbreak, it sets off a panging between his eyes, a dull ache in his viscera.

“Texas,” he tells you plainly. “From Austin, originally.”

You nod. And you must be able to tell that he’s not used to talking about himself — by the tick of his jaw or the lack of eye contact — he’s not sure. Because you don’t pry. Instead, you say, “you can ask me something.”

He nods. Thinks on it for a moment.

“When did you arrive here? To Jackson?”

Unlike him, you do not grimace at the intrusion. Instead, you tell him: about your parents, their untimely deaths, the harrowing road that led you here. You do not cry, but Joel can see the pain in your shiny eyes.

It’s inevitable; there isn’t a single person here who hasn’t been dealt a bad hand. But you wear your past like a badge of honor, like you’re still grateful, after it all, to be alive.

Joel envies your tenacity.

So when you ask him about Ellie, if she is his daughter, he lets the walls around him down — just an inch. He doesn’t get upset when he stumbles over his words while telling you about Sarah. He finds comfort in confiding in you, in the way you so attentively listen, quietly nodding along as he recalls his version of the end of the world.

“Thank you,” you say when he’s done, burying his hands back in his pockets.

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me. I know it can be difficult to relive it.”

“I relive it everyday,” he admits. “Everything reminds me of her in one way or another.”

“I understand,” you nod. He believes you do.

So sweet, gaze like honey, you are an enigma to him. He hasn’t met many people who are kind just for the sake of it — not in a long while. Maybe that’s why he’d been so bothered by it at the market. It had felt almost unnatural to him, bound to be laced with an ulterior motive.

He’s still learning how to trust people again. It doesn’t come easily after twenty-odd years of rationing it like the pills he’d stowed. Still, there is something innate about baring his soul to you. Letting you in through the cracks in his battered being. You are safe, he’s sure of it; benevolence radiating from you like warmth.

It drips off your tongue when you ask him to show you how he does his craft — slips down your fluttering lashes. No longer can he deny you of anything — he’s accepted this swiftly — and so he obliges.

A half-whittled fox materializes from his coat pocket, along with his blade. He passes both to you and pulls his stool closer to yours.

He guides you, taking your hand in his, encouraging the press of the blade into the wood. Shows you how to round out a corner with a subtle twist of the knife. You’re a fast learner, Joel notes, attentive, taking every instruction like gospel.

The slow drag of steel, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle; you’re so focused that you jump slightly when he places a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Doin’ great, darlin’,” he says, and your lips pull around pearlescent teeth. Joel feels as enraptured by you as you do the carving — the loose tendrils of hair that drape over your shoulder, the clinging of cotton to your soft curves. Though he hardened into stone a long time ago, he feels smelted in your presence. So he cannot help it when his fingers begin to drift up your leg, settling at your side as he turns his body toward yours.

The blade stalls, tip still stuck into the wood, puncturing the fox’s non-existent spine, and your face lifts.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. You nod, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

You’re so close like this; Joel can smell the floral perfume dappled along your neck, can feel your warm breath fanning his face. He has half a mind to stop himself from sealing the sliver of distance left between you. But then you’re sighing, placing the blade and the wooden fox on the tabletop. And it’s your turn to guide him — winding your delicate fingers around his wrist and settling his hand at the small of your back.

The air in the tiny workshop grows heavy with unspoken desire, a longing to disrupt; to create. Your body forms to his languidly, arms interlocking behind his neck, fingers weaving in his hair to pull him closer to you. And then your lips press to his — hesitant at first, then not. You drink from each other until you are drunk, breathless and giddy when you separate.

“That was nice,” you whisper, and Joel chuckles.

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you amend. “It was great. Better than I imagined, even.”

“You imagined this?”

“Yes,” you smirk. “On a loop since I first saw you at the market.”

He pulls you back in. Gives you another chaste kiss. “For good measure.”

“Joel,” you say then, “will you and Ellie come by mine on Christmas? I could even cook — it’s just-”

“Yes,” he’s accepting before you can finish. “I’d love that. As long as you make more of those,” he gestures toward the empty basket on the workbench.

“That can be arranged,” you grin.

As soon as you leave that evening — sent off with a goodbye muttered between slotted mouths — Joel starts on your Christmas present.

end notes: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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fuckmyskywalker · 1 year

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Babysitting — Anakin Skywalker.

— Pairing: SingleDad!Anakin x Babysitter!Reader.

— Summary: You stay at his house while he's at a boring fundraising event of the company he works for, so, you do what you love to do when he's not home... Lock yourself in his room, inside your fantasies, pretending he's yours. You lay down on his bed, imagining his touch, his voice, it feels so... real. But, it's just an illusion... right?

— CW: 18+, smut! minors DNI. ModernAU!Setting, Anakin and Reader are clearly delusional and obsessed with each other <3. Light stalking (maybe?), masturbation (f n' m), a bit of voyeurism (?), Fingering, PiV sex, unhealthy shit. | word count: 2.5k | not proofread!

— a/n: My first post here, yay! I'm so excited and so nervous. Hope you like it! Happy May 4th! 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

“Sorry for calling you on such short notice” Anakin apologizes, frowning. Leia is on his hip, fighting the sleep without any hints of success. Her chocolate eyes blink slowly, looking at you, her favorite playtime partner. “Luke is already sleeping upstairs, but this one is giving me trouble”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Skywalker” You replied with a smile, fetching the little girl from his arms and placing her on your chest. Leia places her chin on your shoulder, quickly falling asleep. “Have fun at your fundraiser!”

“If you need anything, call me,” He says, oddly serious. You don’t mind, though there’s something about his permanent anxious blue eyes that makes your heart race. “And don’t call me that, I’m not that old” He sighs and walks closer to kiss Leia’s forehead.

You wished he kissed your forehead too.

Being the babysitter of a 26-year-old, single, and widowed Dad wasn’t exactly everyone’s dream job… It wasn’t yours either, at the beginning that is; When you first read the job offer online you thought it was a joke, it seemed too good to be true, but still, you had nothing to lose— And to your amazement, a tired voice answered your call and the instant you heard the thunderous cry of a child, you knew it was very, very real.

It wasn’t just babysitting Leia and Luke, but you ended up babysitting Anakin as well. Helping him fix his tie, packing him any leftovers (He didn’t care it was the dino nuggets Luke begged and cried for), and even helping him with some house cleaning on those days when he had to stay extra hours at the office. You instantly clicked with his kids, Luke was definitely a bit more hesitant to come out of his shell, shyly hiding behind his sister’s white pajamas, but Leia liked you from your very first day, her feisty and energetic attitude quite surprising for a four-year-old.

Tonight, it was no different. You were in your bed, reading some random book from the local library when your phone rang, and Anakin hurriedly explained to you how he forgot he had a fundraising event that evening and if you could watch the kids. You agreed without hesitation, and even a bit more excited than you would’ve wanted to, but he was too busy chasing Luke to dress him up to notice your odd enthusiasm.

You walk upstairs, listening to his car engine driving away. Carefully placing Leia on his little bed, you gave Luke a quick look, making sure he was asleep. Turning on their nightlight, you leave the door open, in case one of them wakes up.

It was the second time you spend the night at Anakin’s home, the first time being last month, when he was out of town for a weekend, and just like you did the last time, you walk to his bedroom, slowly, feeling yourself, imagining that this was your house.

And that he was your husband.

Inside his closet, the scent of his body wash, his expensive cologne, and just him drowns you. You grab one of his sweaters, your favorite one, that black turtleneck that’s tight in the right places. Bringing it up to your face you smell it, he must have worn it this morning because the perfume was intense and it made your head twirl with excitement.

You take off your shirt, putting his sweater on. The material it’s so soft, and the warm sensation brings you to another level of ecstasy, wondering if this is how it feels to have his muscular, tanned arms around you.

Laying down on his bed, you bury your face in his pillow, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull with utter obsession. Everything about him allures you to a point that it is maddening. You know everything you need to know about him; His wife died three years ago and he hasn’t been on a single date since, between the kids, his work, and the mourning it has been impossible. You know he has a major sweet tooth, and you love to see his little smirk every time you bake cookies, especially for him. You know he hates his mechanical arm but somehow it fascinates you. You know he is a workaholic, always trying to keep his mind busy and to keep himself in line. You know about his… issues, you had seen his bottles of Celexa, Sertraline, and Lorazepam. You know his favorite food, his favorite movie, who he tolerates at work and those he hates the most.

But you wish to know everything about him. Every single little detail.

Still with his sweater drowning your body, you walk downstairs, microwaving the pizza he bought that night probably under Leia’s command. Eating the couch, you turn on the TV, watching a random show without really paying attention to it, your mind still drifting away to the thought of owning this place. Of owning him.

Waiting for him like a little, pretty housewife. Dinner ready, wearing a cute pink apron, the kids running around the living room, greeting him with a kiss…

Oh, such wonderful fantasies.

Cleaning the kitchen, you return to the living room to pick up the twins’ toys, making sure everything looks good and homely. You can already picture it, sitting next to him on the weekends, laying on his chest while ranting about work just like he always does to you… but this time he cups your cheeks to kiss you, to enjoy his days off by your side.

Time flies, and you know it because the clock is almost one-hour past midnight. You start to wonder where he is, did he really go to that boring event?

He looked too worried about it, plus, why would Anakin lie to you? It’s not like he had something else to do, right?

Your mind races without noticing it, what if he’s out with someone else, and he just wanted to keep it a secret? The sting of jealousy settles in your stomach almost comfortably. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He is yours as much as you are his. Even if Anakin doesn’t fully know it yet. You’ve seen the way he smiles at you, how he thanks you for helping him so, so, so much, you see how happy he looks when the twins squeal with excitement at your presence, how quickly he raised your pay, even if you refused.

“I insist,” He said, with those ocean eyes. And who were you to deny him anything?

Anakin was the man of your dreams. At some point, you start to wonder if destiny is what brought you two together, maybe an unknown force that bonds souls into a beautiful embrace.

Back in his room, the smell of his dark duvet dissolved any trace of doubt and jealousy. He was yours, he truly was. Your hands slid under your sweater, touching your body. You feel on fire. Your skin is melting, imagining it’s his touch. Would his prosthetic hand feel cold against your nipples just like it feels every time he places a hand on your shoulder to thank you? Would his breath feel warm against your abdomen just like it feels when he leans closer to whisper about how funny Luke looks wearing his shoes?

The moan that escapes your lips isn’t loud, you are partially conscious of not waking the kids, though you can’t help it. Sliding down your jeans you slid a hand inside your panties, rubbing your clit in slow circles imagining his calloused, strong hands fingering you. Just using you. Using two fingers you curl them towards that spongey spot that makes you yelp and bite your lip in pleasure. The soft, wet sounds of your pussy fill the room as you pant, one hand yanking the pillow towards your face and inhaling it so deeply you groan against it.

The delicious fantasy of his cock sliding in and out of you spirals you to heaven or hell. You want— need him to kiss you, bite you, even spit on you, anything.

Not even the faint sound of footsteps on the stairs rug brings you back to reality.

Anakin sighs, dragging his coat over the wooden floor, he feels so tired and all he wants is to take a hot shower and sleep. Not even the three drinks he had at the event were enough to dull his headache. He checks the kids’ room, smirking when he sees Luke hugging his favorite dinosaur plushie and Leia sprawled all over her unicorn blanket.

He assumes you are sleeping in the guest room, that is until a tiny, barely discernible sound confuses him. Slowly approaching his bedroom, the tiny door gap makes him gasp silently.

There you are, beautifully spread out in his bed, wearing his sweater, and from what he hears, moaning his name.

How long has it been since someone moaned his name with such desire and passion?

Hesitant, he palms himself over his black trousers, his cock rapidly pumping and pulsing. He sees how your fingers curl, glistening with your arousal, and he wants to lick them clean. It is not the first time he has found himself thinking about you in a way he shouldn’t.

He has been in the same position as you, but without the public, of course. Anakin feels ashamed of himself, for spying on you like this. A wave of embarrassment coats him every time he cums by his own hand, fantasizing about your pretty lips around his dick, how soft your skin must feel, how much he needs your weight on top of him, under him. He can’t help but let his eyes wander every time you bend over to clean the kids’ toys, your skirts leaving little to the imagination. How you place a hand on his arm and thank him for such a wonderful job. How he sees you packing up his lunch and helping Luke with his uniform, braiding Leia’s hair.

Anakin knows you would be a wonderful housewife, always attentive, always gentle. It doesn’t help that the twins absolutely adore you, constantly begging for your attention and talking wonders about you. Wonders he already knows.

Unbuckling his belt, Anakin sighs relieved when he wraps a hand around his hard, thick cock. He fists his hand at the same pace you ride your fingers, your pretty face contorted with pleasure.

Anakin wonders what you are imagining, that makes you so deliciously wet. Are you thinking about him? He hopes you do. He begs heavens you are. No one else had permission to roam around your head. Anakin felt possessive over you, not even understanding why. He was scared of his own emotions from time to time, always so intense, so fierce, so unexpected, and uncontrollable. No one could ever match that energy, when his wife was alive, he had to take prescribed meds in order to keep his emotions in line, and even then it was difficult.

People told him it was an obsession, but they were wrong. It was love, in its purest form.

You moan his name again, this time a little bit louder. Anakin twitches at the angelical sound of it. You are absolutely breathtaking. He can’t control himself any longer. The urge to know how tight and wet you feel around him is eating him up alive.

The door swings open and you choke back in surprise and shock. Your hand flees away from between your legs and your adorable eyes widen in sudden fear. Anakin thrills on it. Your eyes glance at his exposed member, rock-hard and leaking. You gulp, nervous.

“I—I’m sorry Mr. Skywalker I—” You stutter, mortified. You want to cry. Everything is about to crumble, right?

“You have no idea what you do to me” He breathes, almost pained. Speechless, you see how he walks closer, wasting no time to lay on top of you. “Fuck, you are so pretty with my sweater” He whines against your neck, inhaling your scent and his combined.

“Mr. Skywalker…” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him, quickly losing every concert and quickly falling back into the abyss of lust.

“Anakin, call me Anakin” He pants against your skin as he licks your neck, rubbing his cock on your stomach. He whines at the friction, already sensitive.

“Anakin” His name rolls off your tongue so sweetly it makes him twitch and you feel it. “Oh, please— please”

“Tell me what y—you want,” He asks, one hand sliding even further up his sweater, palming your breast. His rough fingertips pinch your nipple, making your back arch. “Because all I want right now is to fuck your pretty pussy raw”

The vulgar words he utters make you moan. Could this be a dream? In that case, you would never want to wake up.

“Fuck me, please, make me yours Anakin” You beg, tangling your hand on his dirty blond hair and yanking it. He moans at the pain, but quickly kisses you, forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

The second he slides inside of you, dragging his long cock and spreading you just like he dreamed of, Anakin realizes he’s doomed. He is now attached to you, captivated, enamored, haunted, by you. Your essence drowns him in the deep ocean of lust and obsession. The thin line between love and mania joins in a big, powerful ocean. His world now spins around you.

He fucks you as if his life depends on it. The skin-on-skin contact is too much. You look so gorgeous, tears falling down your cheeks from the euphoria. This is happening, this is happening, this is finally happening.

Anakin kisses you, all teeth and tongue. The kiss is so sloppy you can feel his saliva running down the corners of your lip, not that you care, of course— He sneaks a hand down, this time abusing your clit with his fingers just like he is abusing your pussy with his cock. You clench around him and he’s a goner, blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fills you up seconds after you spam around him, touching heaven with the most mind-shattering orgasm you had ever experienced.

The way he cums it’s almost criminal. He fills you up and it drips out of you, staining his sheets. Anakin forgot the last time he came that much since all he did for the past years was fuck his hand until he cried from overstimulation.

“Stay the night,” Anakin says against your hair, wrapping his arms around you. The dense smell of sex fills the room, forcing you into a dizzy state.

“Yes, yes” You nod, eyelids heavy, and you place a hand on his bicep, puffing. “Anything you want” The smile on your lips it’s bright enough to light up the darkest room, and even though he can’t see it, he feels it.

Maybe he did find someone who could love him as much as he does.

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grimesgirll · 11 days

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somewhat obsessed with the idea of wearing rick’s boxers.

it’s like second nature to you. it has to be.

after every time you slid into bed, every time rick and daryl strip you of your own undergarments, every time they fuck you dumb, everytime rick maneuvers you into your position bundled against his chest, you’re wearing a pair of his boxers.

the two had been surprised at first when they found you face down on the bed after a long day in nothing but a tiny tank top and rick’s blue and white striped boxers.

it took everything in them not to pounce on you right then and there. but when you woke up, you were more than happy to fess up to stealing rick’s boxers to wear as shorts.

rick could barely contain himself one afternoon in alexandria. you were taking judith on a wholesome stroll but you were wearing a pair of pale blue boxer shorts with a soft, white long sleeve and one of rick’s white button ups thrown on. later, he had to explain to you that he wasn’t snubbing you when you caught sight of him and tried to wave him over, just trying to keep his zipper from busting.

you had just laughed and quipped that they were the perfect bottoms.

from then on, rick found his boxer shorts going missing; on runs, he’d found you in the men’s underwear section, stripping down to try on a pair of striped ralph lauren boxers. that’s how the two of you ended up sweating and shamelessly blushed out on the cramped car ride home.

the rose painting your countenance couldn’t cease because you knew you smelled like sex. rick too. from the creamy ring you’d left around his cock as he lifted you off of him and onto the mahogany sales table, you knew you two had overdone it. with the wide block of time you had today to secure supplies, rick felt free to fuck your pussy twice, filling you up enough to have you seen stars on the sales floor.

all because you’d styled his underwear as shorts.

daryl teases his friend about it.

“can’t even wake up without seein’ her in ‘em and gettin’ hard.”

daryl’s a hypocrite however.

even the woodsman isn’t immune to your figure in those boyish bottoms.

it’s twenty-five minutes into your small game hunt when daryl’s hands are in your boxers. you had actually wanted to catch a rabbit or some quail, but once your boyfriend’s fingers are between your folds, you can’t find the will to complain.

the two of you start with him holding you against a hemlock, arms wrapping around you while he fingers you nice and slow, boxers down around your ankles. as he massages your plush walls, daryl counts how casual you are about going commando as one of his blessings.

then it turns. then suddenly there’s a pine needle in your mouth. you spit the green thing out and try to brace yourself against the forest floor. it had happened so fast; his tongue tag teaming you with his fingers to crack you open like a safe in record time. then you were face down with nothing but a denim jacket quickly strewn beneath you.

you love when he or rick spring this kinda thing on you - it’s spontaneous, wild, a little risky in all the right ways. yes, most nights you’d prefer to be rolled up into a blanket burrito with your boys and a glass of wine but the adventures like this really do something for you.

pupils expanded, your chest is heavy when daryl’s the first to come out of your post-romp fog and collect your boxers. your legs are still shaking when the fabric touches your skin.

“daryl!”

you’d protested when the man began to pull up your boxer briefs. full of his cum, you want to clean up before you soil your bottoms but daryl disregards the swats to his hands. slightly annoyed, you hurried ahead of him through the tract of woods back towards alexandria. it’s fine. he just enjoyed the view of your ass.

complaints crawl out of your mouth as soon as you’re in the door and you’re haphazardly hanging your rifle on the wall. daryl brings in the rear behind you while you’re stomping up the stairs to rick.

your chocolate curled lover is taking off his watch, ready to drop it into the ceramic dish on the dresser when you appear next him, shimmying down your bottoms in a huff.

“hey, darlin’,” he greets, expecting more than a scowl from you.

“hey,” you reply curtly, face still in a pout.

“-make sure you don’t take off those boxers, baby-,” daryl stops dead in his tracks at the sight of your bared pussy in the bedroom lamplight. rick’s also taking it in, eyes trailing from your waist to the trimmed bush, and the puffy pink pussy peeking out, now leaking with daryl’s sticky cum.

you bend over to pick up the soiled shorts. “you’re not the only one who likes these,” you point out.

blue eyes narrow. but before he can give you any lip, you’re giving him not one, but both of yours. smashed against your mouth, rick’s tongue delves between those pillowy lips while walking you towards the bed where daryl’s waiting to situate you on his lap once more. daryl’s antics weren’t enough to turn off the blazing furnace between your legs. no, your temper can handle a few more rounds. it’s not hard when your mind paces back to the eye rolling, all consuming inferno that had cyclones through your core.

they trap you in a kiss. sandwiched between both of their hard ons, you’re shifting and grinding in each direction.

“thought you were pissed off with me,” daryl breathes into your ear, fingertips skimming your waist.

you snort, leaning back into him to grant full access to your bared neck. without hesitation, he’s licking a wicked pattern up the column of your neck. “dare’,” you sigh. gasp after gasp, you melt into his touch.

daryl’s hands are beneath the fat of your rear already and all of the sudden, one of rick’s fingers has snaked its way down to your clit. the fervid flicking against your ardor flush tissue culls any anger you could have towards the two men. you can’t even think about holding a grudge once rick gets a finger into you. at two fingers, daryl’s kissing you with the ferocity of a wildfire. three fingers inside of you and you’re babbling;

“rick, faster, please.”

“what was that?”

“please - faster, can you please?”

the grin on his face is as wide as the pacific. his lips turn upwards into a sly smile. “you want somethin’ a little faster, darlin’?” you shake your head as if it’s obvious. he hmmphs. “you oughta’ sit on daryl’s cock.”

you can’t imagine a world where that’s an unpopular idea.

back onto daryl you go.

those hands at your hips come in handy; daryl raises you a few inches once rick’s removed his fingers. eyes focused on rick and the way his mouth closes around one pruning finger. sucking it clean while daryl’s tip brushes your slick entrance. any yearning radiating off of you can’t be hidden. that kind of heat and wetness down between your thighs is no lie.

so a hiss is to be expected when the muscled man wiggles his way into you. rick is saving a mental image of you - adjusting to the familiar stretch of daryl. your blush doesn’t ease once daryl works another half inch inside.

one moment you’re trying to process daryl’s cock as it’s suddenly seated in you to the hilt. the next rick catches your gaze again. this time he’s doing more than teasing you, taking advantage of your parted lips to invade with his tongue.

“rick,” you mumble against his lips.

“you gettin’ close, angel?”

“should feel ‘er,” daryl rasps. with each thrust of his you’re clinging to rick. “so fuckin’ tight like you didn’t get this perfect pussy fucked in the woods.”

“that’s where you guys went?”

your mischevious grin is hidden in the crook of rick’s necks. the telltale tightening around daryl’s length is all consuming. your grin turns into an open “o” shape when daryl drags across your cervix. sensations from your convulsing core are consuming him too.

that same lust from the woods washes over daryl like the tide and you’re the moon, pulling him in and leading him to crash into you. usually this is rick’s wheelhouse, but one glance into daryl’s darkened pupils and you’re ripped from rick. on top of daryl’s lap, you’re wrapped in his arms, bouncing up and down on the rock hard cock beneath you. he sets the pace while you can only claw at his chest. he returns the favor and reaches forward to palm your tit, relishing in your sweet moans when he rolls a hardened bud between two fingers.

riding him on the bed is such a break for your knees compared to the forest floor. gyrating your hips activates not only the core that keeps you fit but the molten hot bundle of nerves at your core. daryl ruts against you deliciously to deliver just the perfect level of pressure.

rick can’t help but be bewitched at everything unfolding on the surface of the mattress. daryl’s length disappears inside out of you, reappearing with each erratic movement of your hips. there’s no reason to be jealous but if looks could kill, daryl’d be dead simply for the privilege of burying himself inside those heavenly walls.

meanwhile, heat bursts down below like a mini neutron star collision within you. forehead cast with sweat, the energy is fading from your movements as you messily move your pelvis to brush against daryl.

a “fuck, baby,” escapes from his lips and you’re done for. and so is he.

shooting into the sheets and collapsing by your side. you’re prepared to slide into daryl’s embrace when there’s suddenly a familiar feeling breaching your bared pussy.

nails dig into your hips and daryl’s back at it again - lapping his tongue up and down your slit. you were thinking that you two would at least catch your breaths but daryl’s taking no breaks. rick isn’t either.

in true rick fashion, he’s tapping your lips with his impressive cock. how can you say no to that?

you open your mouth and moan around his cock once you feel those devious fingers in your hair. it’s like that sense of overwhelm’s been replicated again. tongue against your clit and yours on the underside of rick, you never imagined your afternoon going this way. all this thanks to your little fashion trend.

“princess, your mouth feels amazing.”

you bob your head in appreciation. just like daryl’s taking care of you, you’re taking your time swallowing around the man in your mouth, treating him to the tight embrace of your throat.

“you like gettin’ a cock down your throat while daryl licks you stupid?”

“mhmmm!” you nod forward onto rick.

as soon as your moans reach daryl’s ears, his tongue’s kicking into hyperdrive. goaded by your delightful little whimpers, daryl begins swabbing a vicious pattern across your folds. the redneck alternates between racing over your sopping tissue to flattening that tongue and saddle you with a finger.

“ooommph,” is the only sound that comes out with rick’s steel hard cock down your throat.

spit slick, rick throbs in your mouth. that painful hardness he’s enduring is granted some sweet relief by your hollowed cheeks. you don’t stop there. driven by the lust addled, cock crazy part of your brain, you’re fully sending rick down your airway. breaths come briefly when he lets you up for air or to howl or cry, “dare’!”

right on time, your core is heating up again. the kiln inside of you scorches. neutralizing you, the ecstasy of another orgasm has you nearly folding into your leader. the blue eyed sheriff even leans back, tugging you up by the hair to keep you from actually choking on his cock. daryl’s diligent puckering around all of your important parts is overwhelming you against, a strategic hand on your clit as well.

as if you were all in sync, rick comes in your mouth first, fingers weaving through your gossamer locks while your thighs quake. you gag at first, before swirling your tongue under the twitching cock and swallowing it all. like a good girl.

once rick’s coming undone, daryl continues swirling his tongue around you. your pussy weeps for him. it contracts around his tongue until even rick’s raising his eyebrows at the vulgar slurping sounds filling the room.

“dare’,” you whine.

“gonna’ be a good girl and come all over dare’s tongue?” rick teases.

“yes, please!” you beg, banging a fist against the sheets.

“you gonna’ let daryl taste all of that perfect pussy?”

tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation but you nod as enthusiastically as possible. “pleeaase!”

you don’t have to ask again because you’re too busy arching into your third orgasm of the day. clenching and unclenching, your insides flutter. “ah!”

“so pretty when you come, baby.”

you’re dissolving into rick’s touch as your climax rings through your cunt. starry eyed and panting the pleasure out through your lungs.

you could fall asleep right there. and you do.

it ends as it always does.

following the flush and the lips leaving the surface of your skin, you feel a familiar fabric traveling up your thighs and double kisses mandating that nap that had been on your mind. the bed and the cozy comfort of sleep swallows you whole. rick too. he can never get close enough, not when you’re wearing his boxers.

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milunalupin · 1 month

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Hiiii congrats on the 100 followers 🍾 can I request a hockey player!James x reader in an already established relationship? Where jamie sees reader wearing one of his jerseys as a good luck charm (love-induced placebo effect) and one day, reader comes into a match WITHOUT the jersey?? The rest of how shenanigans is up to u thanks!

ty so so much for requesting, i hope this is hockey-y enough lol <3

— lucky charm

hockey player!james potter x reader ★ 860 words

a/n - i don't know anything about hockey so please bare with me

James was running around the flat like a madman, muttering something about cross checking and knee pads. He pushed past you a little too hard, retracing his steps to mumble a 'sorry' as he kisses your temple. Today's hockey game was very important, according to your boyfriend. As captain of the Gryffindors, he would not allow his team to lose their biggest rivals, the Slytherins. Your nose scrunched is disgust as you watched him pack his dirty lucky socks, walking to the kitchen to grab something to eat during the game.

As he was zipping up his game bag, you walked back over with a few snacks and his water bottle. He smiled fondly at you while accepting the bags of pretzels and baby carrots.

"I'll see you soon love," he wraps you in a tight hug, pulling away from you to look down at you sternly. "Don't forget to wear my jersey please."

Your eyes widened, and let out a sound of disbelief. "It was one time Jamie, three years ago!"

"I know but love of my life, apple of my eye, we really need to win this game." he whined, lightly shaking you by your shoulders.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you pushed him towards the door, reassuring him that you wouldn't forget. James pressed a few more kisses to your cheeks before clambering out the door with his duffel bag hung over his shoulder.

James had met you at a post-win celebration at a local bar, trying to impress you with all his hockey talk. Having had a few shots and nursing a cocktail, your tipsy self just nodded and smiled pretending to understand what the muscular cutie was talking about. When you met up again sober you admitted to not knowing anything about hockey, which didn't seem to be too much of a problem as he had asked you to be his just a few weeks later. Although you still didn't fully understand the sport, you still showed up to every game as James' biggest fan.

Back in the kitchen, you finished washing last night's dishes and made some hot chocolate for yourself to take to the game, filling a tumbler and not bothering to fully twist the cap on as you were now running a few minutes behind schedule. Scrambling to slip your shoes on by the door, of course you tripped over James's converse as you always do, only this time you're hot chocolate spills all over your white 'Potter' jersey.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan. "Oh, he's gonna murder me."

You found your seat just in time for the faceoff, shivering from the cold metal of the arena benches. Maroon and emerald players danced around the ice, getting into their formations for the first round. James was in the middle as the team's center, waiting for the puck to drop. As soon as it did James took control, then passing it to his teammate. You watched as it flew from player to player, the sounds on skates on ice and the opinionated crowd bringing a smile to your face. Gryffindors fans started to stand when James was near the Slytherin's goal with the puck, then boo-ing the green team when the puck was stolen from him. The game was going by smoothly, you snacking on some pretzels as the two teams kept switching off on who had control of the puck.

You stood up and screamed with excitement as James scored, waving your arms around. His head whipped over to your usual section to find you, his bright grin faltering as he noticed your appearance. He let his eyes linger on your plain maroon sweater a few moments more before scoffing lightly and skating back to his position for the next period. The next few rounds were played a dirtier, with the Slytherin players checking the Gryffindors into the tempered glass and tripping them onto the ice.

The game ended with the Gryffindors winning 7-5, maroon-clad fans throwing up popcorn and cheering in celebration. You followed the crowd out, making your way towards the locker rooms, finding a spot against the wall to wait for James.

You watched as he walked out without paying you any attention. Frowning, you jogged to catch up to him. "Jamie, hey- James!"

He turned around with the biggest pout you'd ever seem from anyone, mumbling so softly you almost didn't hear him. "You're not wearing my jersey."

"I spilled hot chocolate on it so I had to change, I'm sorry my love." you stepped forward, taking his hands in yours. "But hey, you still won the game and you played amazingly, so maybe it wasn't so lucky after all."

"Well the jersey was for extra luck, my main lucky charm is you, so thank you for being here." he sighed and pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

"You're welcome, although you don't really need luck because you're so talented, James." You chuckled, feeling him squeeze you a little tighter as he nodded.

"But I was worried about today's game for a second so can you please wear the jersey next game?"

#milunalupin's 100 party !#marauders x reader #marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #hockey player!james potter

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dduane · 4 months

Text

Okay, time to get on with this Nutella and crushed-hazelnut roll cake I've been plotting for the last couple of weeks. (One of our neighbors did us a favor just now and I want to bring them some of this to say Thank You.)

The recipe looks quite sound—no surprise, as this lady's website is full of great stuff. But I'm going to have to spoof it somewhat, as it's predicated on the use of a sheet pan size that wouldn't fit into our oven (the usual US-size-vs-European-size hardware- and appliance-size issue). Probably I'll wind up baking about 75% of the batter in the 10x15-inch pan I've got and the rest in a smaller 9x7-inch, so that the sheet cake doesn't come out so thick that it refuses to roll correctly.

...Got to toast the hazelnuts first, anyway. I'll add pics to this post as I go along.

ETA 1: The hazelnuts, just out of the oven. The aroma in the kitchen is fabulous. :) (We've got a tabletop microwave-cum-fan oven that has about a hundred custom cooking/baking programs built into it, and one of them is for toasting nuts.) (Oh look, @petermorwood got a shot of one of the special menus from the manual when he was posting about the microwave sponge cake.)

...Had I not had the fancy gadget, I'd have just put the hazelnuts on a baking sheet and toasted them at 180C/375ish F for ten or fifteen minutes, stirring the nuts around every five minutes or so until the outsides went nice and brown. The skins rub right off when the nuts cool down, if you don't want them. But I left some in so they'd keep their toastier flavor. These are a soft nut after toasting/roasting, so they crush really easily.

Meanwhile, while sitting still a moment before getting the mise en place together for the cake, and idly scrolling down through the menu on Sky Movies: wow, I really do need new glasses in a hurry. Saw the movie title "Fred Claus" and read it as "Fried Clams." (sigh) After the holidays, for sure. (It's the usual problem. These glasses are trifocals, you have to point-and-steer them to get the right results depending on what you're looking at, and sometimes you're distracted or in a hurry and can not be bothered to do the hunting-for-focus thing, and as a result you get comical results.) (sigh)

Now the mise en place:

...So typical. You're trying to have it be pretty for the photo and one of the egg yolks breaks. (eyeroll)

Anyway. Not shown here: running off to give the stand mixer's bowl an extra wash to make sure it's absolutely clean, because any grease getting into egg whites being beaten will inhibit how well they fluff up.

So, time to get on with that.

First thing, though: the baking pans need to be prepared while the egg whites and so forth are beating.

So the recipe suggests that you should butter both the pans and the parchment paper used to line them. And speaking as one who's writing this after rolling the cakes up, I can speak directly to its effectiveness. The cake sheets pretty much leapt out of the pans. As I can imagine all too clearly what having to convince them out would be like, better to go overboard with the butter at this stage. I buttered the pans with solid butter and then melted a couple of tablespoonsful and brushed the baking-parchment liners with them.

Lining the pans with the paper, btw, is much assisted by having buttered them first. You just press the paper down and it sticks. Then you go get the scissors and cut off whatever's hanging out.

And now comes the part where you make the cake batter.

First you beat the egg whites and half the granulated sugar to the stiff-peak stage. (Took my mixer about five minutes.)

Then in a different bowl you beat the egg yolks and the rest of that sugar together. Somehow I missed getting a pic of this: apologies. It's the usual "beat together until pale, light, and fluffy." Took about seven minutes for that.

Then: sift together the flour, cocoa, salt and baking powder, The logistics of the original recipe get a little complicated at this point—it sounds like a third bowl is being called for. But at that point I'd decided that I already had more than the usual number of bowls to deal with, not to mention the one I'd just sifted the dry ingredients into. And we don't have a dishwasher. So I just said "The hell with that", added the coffee and vanilla to the egg yolk mixture, and mixed it a bit more: then spooned about half the sifted dry ingredients in, and pulsed the mixer a few times: then added the rest of the dry stuff and mixed again, very slow, just wanting to make sure that everything was completely combined. (As usual with cakes at this point, the idea is to get everything well mixed without doing anything to develop the gluten in the flour. I never let the mixer go very fast.)

...Then comes the "folding in the egg whites" part of the operation. Always use the biggest spatula you've got for this.

Then, when you finish this stage (again, sorry, no pic, I was busy racking my brains over what tool would be best for this job) you spread the batter in the pans.

When I finished with this task I was very glad that I had an offset spatula, because if I'd attempted this with a regular mixing spatula, I don't think the result would have been anything like this even. This batter is light but it's also moderately firm... and with the best will in the world, no amount of shimmying the pans around on the work surface is ever going to even that batter out. As for its thickness in the pans: we're talking about a centimeter at the most.

And then: into the oven for ten minutes, while setting up the pieces of cocoa-powder-dusted baking parchment meant to receive them. I don't have pics of them in the pans when they came out, because the get-them-out-of-the-pans stage is kind of a time-sensitive thing (like immediately). So I got on with it.

They fell straight out onto the prepared sheets with no trouble at all. The small one fell out by itself: the large one fell out with the baking parchment still clinging to it, but not so desperately that it took more than gently lifting it away between finger and thumb to get rid of it.

And then came the rolling. I did the little one by myself, to get a sense of the technique: then asked @petermorwood to video the rolling of the larger one.

youtube

...So now they get left to their own devices until, oh, tomorrow morning, I guess. That's when I'll move on to the next stages.

My plan is to unroll the little cake as a test: brush it inside with warmed/semi-liquid Nutella: sprinkle the Nutella with crushed hazelnuts, which theoretically/please gods will stick to it if gently assisted; and then contrive a filling that will taste at least somewhat of Nutella but not be too sweet to bear. Then the ganache will be made using that fabulous Belgian chocolate that came in a couple of weeks back, and when the whole cake's put together and has had a little time to rest, Peter and I will test it and see if it's something we feel confident enough to offer to other people.

So we'll see how it all goes. Tune in again tomorrow for more hijinks... :)

ETA 2, December 23: When we last saw our cake rolls, the two of them (the one baked in the Euro-size pan, and the smaller one where the spare batter went) were sitting innocently on the counter, waiting to settle enough to be unrolled.

Now's the time. And guess what?

DIsaster! (-Ish. As you'll see.)

The first small sheet of cake was just too small to deal with this treatment without immediately cracking into one-inch slices upon unrolling. I therefore won't waste your time with that video. Instead, you should have a look at the video of the bigger-baked sheet as it gets unrolled, and watch it crack in pieces! (This was either due to the baked sheet being too thick, or too thin. More diagnostics are needed before we come to a verdict.)

But first: the buttercream filling, which worked just fine.

This is the recipe I used:

This recipe worked perfectly. There's zero reason to inflict a long video about this on you, as I was working in a cold kitchen (with three stone walls, two external...) and the butter and sugar took something like half an hour to get friendly enough so that the Nutella could finally be added.

One thing I will show you, though. It's been a long time since I bothered buying confectioners' sugar / icing sugar, because when I need it, I make it myself... in the (very old and beat up-looking) coffee grinder. The sugar's grind comes up finer than that of a lot of commercially made icing sugars... and unlike too many confectioners' sugars in North America, there's no cornstarch in it (which they put in to keep it from caking with storage).

If you try this, make sure not to forget to brush the grinder out well afterwards, and wipe it clean with a damp paper towel. Otherwise the sugar, which is very hygroscopic, will go solid, glue the blade to its spindle, and be a real nuisance to clean out after the fact.

youtube

Meanwhile, here's the Nutella buttercream frosting after it's done. Just a very quick clip here, so you can see what the texture should be like when you pull the beater out of the mixture. (Volume down on this, please: it's really noisy.) If it's not soft enough, do as the recipe recommends: add a tablespoonful of milk or so and beat well until things soften up a bit. Add another, and do the same again, if you need to.

youtube

So now we come to the baked-cake unrolling. (Apologies for the black bars at the top and bottom of the video. For reasons best known to itself the phone insisted on recording in 9:16/portrait format, and the bars are an artifact of flipping it back into landscape...)

youtube

...So after all that, both cakes, the big and the small, are in the fridge now, stabilizing. And there we'll leave matters until tomorrow.

#cake #baking #Nutella #chocolate #hazelnuts #experimentation #FOR SCIENCE #that's the excuse anyway #Youtube

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shadowlali · 4 months

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hot chocolate and snickerdoodle cookies

COD AU - Phillip Graves x bed and breakfast owner!fem!reader

[18+] summary: Phillip visits a bed and breakfast from his childhood. He meets the new owner, a sweet soul who helps him grieve. wc: 6.3k masterlist

[photos found on pinterest, all credit to original owners of the photos above]

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, DUAL P.O.V., no use of Y/N nor details on reader’s appearance, talks about losing loved ones (grandparent, great aunt, great uncle), soft!graves, pet names, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink (if you squint) a/n: happy new year's! here's my take at a soft (but still commanding) graves <3 thank you all for the support! when i started this blog in august i never though i'd have people read my stuff 😭 may you all have an amazing and blessed new year! also don't read too much into the layout/logistics of the bed and breakfast i've only been to like two or three lol

Phillip’s. P.O.V.

Phillip sits in his idling car, staring at the dreamy, two-story bed and breakfast. It’s covered in a light sheet of snow with a few cars parked in the front. Through the big, front window, he can see the orange flickers of light emanating from the fireplace.

It’s been years since he’s last visited. Despite the welcoming atmosphere of the town and of the house, his heart hammers in his chest. He recognizes the same small grocery store, same tiny post office, same park… but it seems different?

And it is, at least to him. His grandmother, the one who introduced him to this place decades ago, is long gone. It didn’t matter that his parents would abandon him months on end, he had his grandmother and that was more than enough.

They stumbled on this town decades ago, when he was just a boy. Eventually it became a tradition. Every year his grandmother would bring him and every year they would stay in this bed and breakfast. He remembers the hot chocolate and snickerdoodle cookies and the soft beds. He remembers the older couple who owned the place, how kind and willing they were to include Phillip and his grandma in their holiday traditions.

Then it stopped. He joined the military, was shipped all over the world and only saw his grandma a few times a year. She never seemed to mind, happy to see her grandson all grown up and doing something he loved. The time spent with her became less and less. Lines and white hair, a symbol of a life well lived, appeared on her. It only made her more beautiful to him.

But time eventually caught up to her. Her hands shook when she reached for a cup of tea and it took her longer to walk up the stairs. Phillip didn’t want to stay away anymore. He had already thought of creating Shadow Company to be his own boss, his own commander. And his grandmother’s worsening condition only made him work faster to achieve that dream.

He didn’t see her too often, but she stayed in his home, under the care of a specialized team. Once Shadow Company was built, they had only three holidays together. Three holidays spent in the cute mountain town in the same two-story bed and breakfast. On the last Christmas before her passing, he held in his tears. She was too frail to open her presents. It was difficult for her to walk without assistance and her memory had long begun to fail her.

But they sat in front of the fireplace, surrounded by the chatter of the other guests and family of the owners. He held her softer hand in his and basked in the warmth of the flames and the love of his grandma. She turned slightly in her chair, covered under a mountain of blankets, and stared at his side profile.

Phillip… my baby boy, she had said softly. He turned to look at her, feeling her soft hand cup his cheek. Yeah, gram? I’m right here. A few months after that, once they were back in Texas, she passed peacefully in her sleep. There were hundreds of cards and flowers sent by everyone who knew her. There were people he didn’t even recognize at her funeral. But it was a testament to how loved she was by those around her.

The couple from the bed and breakfast visited and expressed how hurt they were by her passing. Their bodies were also frail and soon after they would pass too. He cried and cried and cried until there were no more tears. A strong, assertive soldier reduced to tears. Phillip walked around his grandmother’s room at his home and wrapped himself in the blankets she would knit. Time passed and he threw himself into his work, not thinking too much about her or the memories.

Even now, many years later, it still pains his heart when he thinks of her. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to see the park and the swings where she’d push him until he felt like he was flying. He doesn’t want to see the snow and think about the snow angels or the snowball fights they used to have. It hurts. It hurts so much to relive those memories.

But he can’t live like this anymore. He wants to remember her and everything she did for him. Phillip wants to grieve properly even if he knows it’ll split his heart wide open. She deserves to be talked about and her memory deserves to be cherished.

Before his surge of confidence fades, Philip turns off the SUV and grabs his luggage from the passenger seat. He jogs across the street, wanting to escape the cold. He reaches the porch, seeing Christmas lights wrap around the front posts. It's past Christmas now, only a few days away from New Years, but he can see the giant green tree with shiny ornaments through the window.

Before he can knock on the door, it swings open. You stand there, encased in a knit sweater and leggings, looking way too sweet and soft for your own good. Phillip is left speechless for a moment, blinded by the smile on your pretty face.

“Hi! Welcome, come on in!” you say, motioning for him to enter the foyer.

Phillip clears his throat and offers you a smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You close the door behind him, passing close enough for him to smell your perfume. Without thinking he breathes in deep, filling his lungs. He follows you to the front desk, wondering if you're related to the previous owners. As he gives his name and hands over his license he discreetly looks at your name tag. Phillip rolls your name quietly over his tongue, looking away once you take your eyes off of the computer.

“You’ve been here before! Your name is in our system,” you exclaim.

His heart pinches uncomfortably and before he can formulate a response you reach over on the desk and grab a picture frame.

“I thought you looked like the boy in this photo… this is you, right? With your grandma and my great aunt and uncle!”

He takes the picture frame from you, brushing against your soft hands. His breath catches in his throat and tears prick his eyes. It is him with his grandmother alongside what he now knows to be your great aunt and great uncle. He’s a young teen in this photo, at this point already taller than his grandma.

“They passed when I was young but they always talked about you and her. You guys were like a second family to them,” your soft voice breaks through his thoughts.

“They were–they were always so welcoming to us,” he whispers,” I have some great memories from this place.”

He hands back the picture and you place it once more on the desk. You hand him a key and walk around the desk towards the hallway.

“Well, Mr. Graves, I hope you’re able to create some new ones.”

“Phillip is fine, sweetheart. No need for formalities.”

You hum, nodding your head slightly. You ask if he needs help with his luggage and he immediately says no, motioning you to continue walking. He follows you, taking in his surroundings. Not much has changed since he was last here. The same dark wood floors and furniture adorn the place. He sees photos of other guests on small tables and on the walls of the hallway.

He breathes in the familiar scent of the home and lets the warmth wash over him.

“Is it just you here? Do other family members help run the place?” Phillip asks as you lead him up the stairs.

“It used to be my parents, but they left it to me. They said I’m more passionate about this house.”

“I remember how packed it got when I was younger,” Phillip states,” we always made sure to make our reservations well in advance.”

“It was like that a few days ago during Christmas,” you agree,” my parents came to help. I like it though, it’s always fun meeting new people.”

You stop at the end of the hallway and open the door to the large bedroom. A canopy bed with white curtains and fluffy pillows is placed in the center of the room. There’s a large dresser and nightstand in the same dark wood style as the furniture throughout the house. It’s exactly as Phillip remembers.

“I put towels in the bathroom for you and some extra blankets in the storage bench,” you say as you motion towards the ottoman at the end of the bed. “I’m down the hall if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, doll. I think I’ll be just fine.”

“Do you want any coffee or tea? I had just taken out the cookies from the oven before I saw you through our camera.”

Phillip laughs, now understanding why you opened the door before he knocked. “No thank you, I think I’m just going to get ready for bed.”

“Alright Mr. Gra–Phillip,” you remind yourself,” Have a good night!”

- - -

Phillip walks down the stairs, seeing cars leave the driveway from the window.

“Bye, thank you for coming! Have a safe trip back home,” you call out through the open front door.

“Mornin’,” he calls out.

You close the door before turning towards him. “Goodmorning, Phillip! How’d you sleep? Do you want some coffee?”

“Good, great actually. Those beds, wow, the softest I’ve ever slept on.”

You laugh in agreement. “Yeah, they did good in choosing that brand of mattresses. Coffee? Or are you going out?”

“Coffee would be great, doll.”

He follows you to the dining room where he sees an assortment of pastries, eggs, coffee, juice, and other breakfast items on the table.

“Any plans for today?” you ask while serving him a cup of coffee.

He takes a moment to think about your question. He really isn’t sure where to begin in this town. There’s a few places his grandmother would take him, but Phillip wonders how difficult and uncomfortable it will be for him to revisit those places without her. It’s difficult enough to be in this place with the memories hitting him at every corner.

“Uh, I’m not quite sure. Maybe take a walk around town.”

You fiddle with your sweater as an anxious look crosses your face. “I found something this morning in the attic. Is it okay for me to show it to you?”

Phillip’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion and he nods. You walk into the kitchen and a minute later walk out with a leather book in your hands. You pull out the chair next to Phillip, sit and open the book to reveal pages of photos.

“It’s their photo album,” you explain,” from all of their guests. I went to look for some light bulbs and accidently knocked over a box. This was inside of it.”

You flip some pages and land on photos of a younger Phillip and his grandmother. Phillip gently grabs the photo album and brings it closer to him. There’s pictures from the very first time they visited to pictures of him and his grandma ice skating at the park. Each flip of the page shows Phillip at different stages of his life and all around town or in the house.

“I can tell by your face that this is as much of a surprise to you as it was to me.”

Phillip nods,” I had no idea there were photos. Why do you think they kept these?”

“I’m not quite sure, they never mentioned anything when I was younger. They only showed me the picture that’s on the front desk. Maybe they forgot about it?”

Phillip nods absentmindedly, flipping through the many pages. Tears prick his eyes and he gets a wave of nostalgia and grief. Before a teardrop falls he quickly slams the book shut and pushes it back to you.

“Thank you, uh, for showing me this,” Phillip murmurs as he stands up.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Phillip,” you stress,” the last thing I wanted to do was make you sad. I just wanted to show you these because I know it makes me feel better when I look back through photos.”

Phillip stops in his tracks with your words.

“It makes you feel better?”

You nod quickly, standing up from your own chair and walking slowly towards Phillip. “I mean, of course it hurts to think that my loved ones aren’t here anymore. But, I have pictures and I have memories. I talk about them and I visit places we went together and I make new memories.”

Phillip rubs a hand on his forehead, taking in your words. He wonders if this is where he should begin. Seeing those photos made Phillip feel emotions he hadn’t experienced in years. But that’s why he’s here, to honor her and no longer repress his memories.

“It’s–it’s hard for me to think about my grandma. I don’t know how to–to get through this sadness. It’s been so long but it still feels as if it just happened.”

“Is that why you’re here? To process her passing?”

“Yes,” Phillip whispers,” it’s funny, actually. I’m a soldier who’s used to running onto battlefields and dangerous territories without a second thought. But this,” he points to the photo album,” scares me… I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this, but I feel like I can trust you.”

You beam at him, showing him the pretty smile that’s captivated him from the moment he first laid eyes on you. “Of course you can trust me Phillip. And I know we just met but you don’t have to be scared. I can help you if you’d like?”

“How?”

“Well,” you say while walking back to the photo album and flipping to the first page with his photos,” there’s a ton of activities you can do according to these pictures. Like ice skating at the park.”

Phillip scratches his head, not quite up to do things alone. “I don’t know if I want to go by myself–”

“Would you like me to go with you?”

Phillip’s heart skips a beat at your suggestion. “You’d do that, sweetheart? Don’t you have guests here?”

“No! You’re the last one until after New Year’s. I’d love to help you Phillip, but I also don’t want to interfere in any plans or bother you–”

“No, no. That would actually be–be really helpful.”

Phillip smiles back, entranced by the twinking in your eyes.

“Anywhere in particular you’d like to go first?”

The walk to town is straight out of a movie with snow covering the many trees and rustic-like houses. Despite the cold, the town square is filled with people and laughter. Vendors are set up around the park, selling hot chocolate and different foods.

“I’m not sure, what do ya’ think?” he asks.

“How about the ice rink?”

“Only to watch, not actually skate–”

“What?” you exclaim. “No way. We’re getting on the ice!”

You link your hand in his and begin pulling him towards the open ice rink. He drags his feet, suddenly nervous at the idea of balancing on thin blades. He feels like an awkward teenager again, hoping he doesn’t make a fool of himself in front of the pretty girl he likes.

“Come on, Phillip! You can’t hug the wall the entire time,” you call out.

“I’m not huggin’ the damn— Jesus, fine.” Phillip responds, pushing off the railing and slowly skating towards you.

You start skating backwards, moving farther away for Phillip to follow you. He’s lucky, the rink is mostly empty apart from a few others.

“Where are you goin’ doll? How about we stay in one place–”

“No, silly,” you tease him,” you need to re-learn how to skate. Plus, we need to recreate the picture.”

“Recreate the picture?”

You stop at his question and reach into your jacket pocket. Finally, he thinks as he approaches you. You pull out a stack of photos, the ones from inside of the photo album.

“I brought them so we know exactly what to do. The tree is still up,” you say as you point to the giant christmas tree,” if you stand here I can take a picture and you’ll have a new one. I was thinking you could recreate some of the photos.”

It’s a good idea, a sweet one at that. Even if his legs are slightly shaking from being unbalanced and he knows he’ll eventually make a fool out of himself on the ice, it’s a step in the right direction of the grieving process.

You skate around him and hold up your phone to take a photo. “Ready?”

Phillip stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do. You call out a simple smile but it takes him a moment to do so. He looks around, watching children stumble on the ice and parents or grandparents there to pick them up and push them to try again. He turns to look at people walking through the park, couples hand in hand or children playing in the snow. He feels the wind ruffle his hair slightly and brush across his face.

So he smiles. A genuine smile. One that doesn’t feel forced or sad. He hears the shutter sounds come from your phone and you skate towards him after a few clicks.

“Here, I think these look perfect,” you say as you show him the screen.

“Okay, now it's your turn–”

“No, Phillip. I don’t need any pictures–”

He makes a tsk sounds and grabs your hand before you're able to skate away. “We’ll take one together, that’s my compromise to your idea.”

You roll your eyes playful at him but nonetheless hand him your phone. His pulse flutters on his neck as you lean in closer while he snaps a photo of the both of you. Phillip hands you the phone and you playfully bump into him as you skate away.

“Okay,” he warns,” we’re done here–”

“Show me what you got, Commander.”

After the third time he slips and lands on his butt, you finally decide to leave for the next task. His ego is bruised only a little, the giggles and soft hands you offered every time he fell down were worth the minor embarrassment.

“The hot chocolate your great aunt made was amazing, but I remember liking this one too,” Phillip says once inside the little bakery.

“Her secret was maple syrup and dark chocolate. I haven’t been able to recreate it exactly like hers but I’m still trying.”

The both of you reach the front counter and you order a hot chocolate and sugar donut while Phillip orders a coffee and croissant.

“Coffee? No, Phillip! You need to order a hot chocolate–he’ll get a hot chocolate instead,” you tell the employee.

“Wait–” he starts, but by then the employee has left to prepare the order. “You do realize that I’m a grown man?”

“And? Where’s your childlike wonder? Where’s your inner child, Phillip?” you tease.

You try to pay using your card but Phillip pushes your hand away. “What’re you doin’?”

“It’s my treat, Phil–”

“Don’t be silly, doll,” he gently chastises.

You find a table and sit down, Phillip sliding into the booth right next to you. You cheers his cup and Phillip watches you take a sip. A jolt of arousal hits him the moment you moan at the taste of the drink. Phillip looks away quickly once you make eye contact, feeling himself overheat. He’s usually not so shy around women, quite the opposite actually.

But the emotions he’s experiencing with you are… new. And it’s not because you’re helping him and he’s somehow replacing his grandmother’s memory with you, it’s because you’re sweet. You don’t even know him, yet since the minute you spoke to him you were genuine in your kindness. Here you are now, helping him with your encouraging words and pretty face.

You give him a shy smile and place a hand on his cheek, turning his face towards his own cup. “Try it, Phillip!”

He takes a sip, immediately transported back to his childhood. “Yup, this is just how I remember.”

He hears the shutter of a camera and turns to see you taking pictures of him. He takes the phone from your hands and has you pose to take some of you then of you two together.

In just a few short hours, you’re able to help him recreate most of the photos. By late afternoon, snow begins to fall, landing on your cheeks and eyelashes. The both of you are standing outside the bed and breakfast, admiring a snowman left by one of the guests. He’s enthralled, listening to the rasp of your voice while you recount a story of a snowman you built when you were younger.

You tilt your head back, watching the snowflakes drift down slowly from the sky. He watches them land on your lips and soft skin, suddenly jealous that the snowflakes get to kiss you first.

“Anyways, hungry? Phillip?” you ask, a confused look on your face at his silence.

“Right–yeah, I mean yes,” he stammers out, feeling his face heat.

“How about I cook us something–”

“Let me, as a thank you for today. Going out of your way to help me alleviate the pain, let me at least repay the favor.” Phillip interrupts.

“You don’t have to repay–”

“Show me to the kitchen, sweetheart.”

The busy bee that you are, he soon realizes, you do show him the kitchen but immediately begin cleaning the now empty rooms. He prepares a dish he knows too well, roasted chicken and an assortment of vegetables he finds in the fridge. Even with the soft music playing in the living room and the crackle of the fireplace, he can hear you gently humming from the hallway while you sweep.

He sets another pot of coffee and hears a knock on the front door. You jog to the door and open it, saying hello and thank you so much before shutting the door and walking away. Phillip finishes cooking and washing the dishes he used about an hour later and calls you over to the dining room.

“Who knew the Commander could cook?” you praise him.

He smiles at your comment, a slight flush appearing on his neck. “I’m a real jack-of-all-trades.”

After dinner, the both of you sit in front of the fireplace, basking in the warmth. He listens as you talk about your New Year’s resolutions, mainly wanting to find the time and energy to travel more. Phillip finds comfort in your voice, allowing himself to fantasize what it would be like to retire from Shadow Company and travel the world with you. It’s crazy, since he just met you, but he allows himself to imagine.

“I don’t even know what day it is today. Once Christmas passes it’s hard to keep track. Oh,” you say after a yawn,” I almost forgot.”

You jump out of your seat and pad quickly up the stairs. He listens to your soft footsteps walk around the second floor, then you come back down with another leather book.

“I know I’ve already airdropped the photos to you, but I thought you’d like this as well.”

He takes the book from your hands and opens it, finding all of the old photos matched to the new ones. It’s the pictures of himself, in front or in the middle of whatever activity he and his grandmother were doing. He flips through the pages, finding comfort in her smile, knowing she’d want him to be happy, to not hold onto the pain but only remember the good times they spent together.

He turns to look at you, uncaring that there’s tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say, thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

“It’s more than enough, Phillip,” you whisper, reaching to wipe away a teardrop with your thumb,” Through your stories and the stories of my great aunt and uncle, I feel like I got to know her too.”

“How’d ya’ get these printed so fast?”

“I had my friend at the print shop do it!”

You pull your hand back but Phillip grabs it, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand and another to your wrist. He leaves his lips there for a moment, feeling the flutter of your pulse. He hears the sharp intake of your breath and places another kiss on your skin. You pull your hand away slowly and stand up, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll leave you to look through the photo album. I think it’d be good for you to have some alone time, yeah?”

Phillip nods his head in agreement,“ thank you again, doll.”

Once you're upstairs and he hears the sound of water running from your shower, he allows himself to cry. He traces his fingertips on his grandmother’s face, wishing she were still here. He cries until he can barely see, until the photos become too blurry to focus on.

He cries for keeping the memories locked away in his mind for so many years, for not cherishing her memory. He cries for your thoughtfulness and for your gift. Eventually, he makes his way upstairs and falls heavy on the bed. Exhaustion takes control and he falls asleep, the book still in his hand.

- - -

Reader’s P.O.V.

You’re up early the next morning, like most days. You hear the front door close as you descend the stairs and once you open the blinds, you see Phillip walking in the distance towards the town. He seemed like he appreciated the gift, and you really hope he liked it. The night before, you could hear his sobs and it took everything in you not to come back down and comfort him. But, he needed his time alone.

You finish cleaning up the rest of the rooms, really only needing to put the sheets and towels to wash as you had finished most chores the night before. You’re in the process of starting a fresh pot of coffee and taking muffins out of the oven when you see someone out of the corner of your eye. You turn and find Phillip leaning against the doorjamb with a small smile on his face.

“Good morning, Phillip. How’d you sleep?”

“Mornin’ sweet girl,” he pauses and takes a deep breath before responding,”... good. I had a good night's rest. How ‘bout you?”

“Great!” you respond, a smile spreading across your face.

He places a paper bag from your friend’s print shop on the table. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

Phillip pulls out a lavender colored photo album from the bag and presents it to you.

“Oh, Phillip. You didn’t have to buy me a new one! We have a ton of them all over–”

“Doll,” he interrupts,” open it.”

You take it and open up the album, gasping as you see the pictures from the day before. There’s some of you ice skating and of you drinking hot chocolate at the bakery and of course the pictures Phillip took of the both of you.

“This is–wow, Phillip,” you whisper,” I don’t know what to say. This is incredibly sweet of you.”

You flip through the pages for a few minutes, seeing you and Phillip posing. He took time out of his day to not only print the photos, but rearrange them in the album. Your heart beats fast in your chest, the crush you have on him only growing. Without another word you wrap your arms around Phillip. He returns the hug immediately, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m grateful, ya’ know? To you, for being with me while I work through it all,” Phillip says once you pull back,” I still have a lot to do on my own. But you were there, encouraging me to take the first step. The major first step.”

He cups the side of your face and you can’t help but lean into his touch. You’re sure you have a dreamy look in your eyes, completely taken aback by the blue of his.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.

“What–”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his eyes flicking from yours back to your lips.

You nod, meeting him halfway. His lips are soft and plush. Phillip cups the back of your head with one hand while the other is placed on your lower back. You run light fingers through his thick hair, running the tip of your tongue on his bottom lip. Phillip groans, pushing his hips into yours.

He grinds his erection into your lower belly and moves his hand to cup the curve of your bottom. You lift up your thigh and wrap your leg around his waist. He angles his hips to grind right against your clothed pussy, eliciting a whimper from your mouth.

Phillip breaks away from the kiss, trailing open mouth kisses to your throat. “Let me take you upstairs,” he groans,” please, sweet girl.”

“Yes, yes, Phillip.”

In under two minutes Phillip is able to get you up to your room. You stand at the edge of your bed while he kisses a path over your clothed breasts and down to the waistband of your leggings. He pulls them down, trailing his lips over the soft skin of your thighs. You wiggle out of them, goosebumps erupting on your sensitive skin.

He presses open mouth kisses to your cotton panties, looping his fingers on the sides and pulling them down slowly. You're wet and achy and hot, all thanks to him. You grip the edges of your sweater and pull it off. Phillip stands to unclip your bra, immediately latching his mouth to your swollen nipples. You link your fingers in his hair and tug, feeling his teeth bite gently on your skin.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” Phillip whispers while gently pushing you to lay on the bed.

He brings your hips right to the edge, spreading open your thighs and running light fingers over your slit.

“All wet and swollen just f’me,” he groans.

You nod even though he’s not looking at you, more focused on kneeling and burying his face in your cunt. “Just for you, just for you–oh god!”

He licks a broad, quick stripe from your entrance to your sensitive clit. He does it again, lapping up your juices.

“Phillip,” you drag his name out in a long moan.

“What baby?” he teases,” you want more?”

He slips a finger inside your drooling entrance, moans erupting from the both of you. He fucks into you gently, adding a second finger and swiping his tongue through your folds. Phillip’s tongue swipes up and up and over your clit repeatedly. You twist and squirm your hips, feeling electricity coil in your tummy. You thank the gods that the house is completely empty because the sounds emanating from your mouth are dirty.

“Such a sweet girl,” Phillip coos against your wet skin,” keep makin’ those sounds f’me.”

Phillip curves his fingers and speeds up his movements, the wet from your pussy only making it easier. So soft and beautiful girl falls from his lips the few moments he comes up for air. You feel heat spread rapidly through your body and then you're falling, falling, falling into the abyss, gripping the comforter tightly to hold you in place. He places a strong hand on your stomach to keep you still while you writhe from his tongue and fingers.

“Oka–okay, no mo–more,” you cry out, shaking from the intensity of the aftershocks.

“You made such a pretty mess,” he groans.

Phillip removes his fingers, placing his forehead on your inner thigh. He breathes in deep and places tiny, wet kisses up to your tummy.

“How was that, sweetheart? Wanna keep going?” he whispers, biting the sensitive skin on your chest.

You move your hands to cup his face and bring him in for a kiss. You lick and bite his jaw, cleaning up your mess and leaving behind red marks on his skin. He falls perfectly between your thighs, lightly grinding his still clothed erection on your sensitive skin.

“You’re wearing too much clothes,” you murmur, sliding your hands underneath his crew neck sweater. “Take them off,” you giggle.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, quickly sliding off the bed.

You sit up and watch as he throws off his sweater and then unbuckles his jeans. While he pushes them down, you bring a hand to his muscled stomach, stroking the heated skin. His cock comes into view and you gasp slightly at the size. You reach a hand down to gently stroke his length, shivering at the feel.

“Don’t worry doll,” he moans,” you can take me.”

He grasps your hand, lay back down, whispered in the quiet room. Phillip climbs on the bed and spreads your thighs to accommodate his hips. He wraps your thigh around his waist and rubs his thick cock between your folds. You reach a hand down and guide him right to your dripping entrance. You throw your head back into the soft pillows, feeling him slide into your messy cunt. He works himself all the way in, his eyes half lidded and jaw clenched.

“Phillip,” you whimper,” you’re deep, baby.”

“Fuck, like if you–if you were ma–made f’me,” he mutters.

Phillip hips fuse to yours and you feel the coarse hair on his groin rub on your wet skin. He stays still, running hands over your thighs and up to your swollen nipples, breathe, baby, he repeats to you. He runs his thumb over your lips, sliding it into the warmth of your mouth.

He stretches you, reaches deep inside of you with his thick cock. You squeeze him, adjusting to his size and the feel of him all around you. He slides back out slowly, gripping your thigh for a better angle. In one swift movement he pushes back in. You suck and bite his thumb, gagging slightly when he pushes it deeper into your mouth.

“Honey, fuck–you feel like honey,” he groans, keeping his eyes locked where you two are joined.

He slips his thumb out of your mouth and moves it to rub small circles on your clit.

“Like that, just like that,” you cry.

Phillip keeps the pace, sliding out and pushing all the way back in. You become limp in his hands, molded by his touch and by his cock. He reaches your cervix with each thrust, kissing the end of you, deeper that anyone else has ever reached.

“Feels good, doll?” he asks, moving faster. “Am I stretching this little pussy?”

Tears fall from the corner of your eyes from the intensity. You nod dumbly, entranced by him. His eyes are almost black, pupils dilated.

“My swe–sweet girl,” he groans,” so tight.”

“So good–i’m so– i’m so,” you stammer.

“I know, baby,” he coos,” you’ve been so good.” His thumb swipes through your folds, gathering your wetness and back up to strum your clit. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

He leans over you, pistoning his hips and rolling your clit with his slick thumb. Your vision blurs then electricity shoots up your spine again. Your mouth opens in a chorus of moans and whimpers. Vaguely, you hear Phillip praise you that’s it, come for me baby, my pretty girl.

He finishes soon after, falling on top of you and burying his head in your neck while he fucks you sloppy through your aftershocks. You feel spurts of warmth as he comes inside of you, marking you. You hear his groans and slight whimpers in your ear while his hips jerk and twitch.

You’re exhausted, body deliciously aching and limp. Your eyes droop as you feel the pull of sleep almost take you. Phillip groans as he leans back, pulling out slowly. You feel the drip of his come slide out of land on the sheets. Phillip uses his fingers to push some of it back in.

“There,” he whispers,” back to where it belongs.”

You roll your eyes but Phillip catches you, slapping your inner thigh. You giggle as he stands, watching while he walks into the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth. He cleans the mess on your inner thighs then cleans himself.

“Take a nap with me,” you plead.

“Tempting, but have you eaten?”

You blink, realizing you were in the process of making breakfast before he arrived.

“Eat first, nap later,” he commands, walking to your drawer and pulling out one of your sweaters, linen pants, and thick socks.

Once you’re dressed, he has you wait on the bed while he goes back to his room to change into new clothes. You walk down the stairs together, you, a little more slowly from the ache between your thighs. You push his shoulder as you see him smirk, only slightly annoyed by him.

After breakfast you fall asleep on the living room floor, Phillip setting up the fireplace and placing a mountain of blankets in front of it. You wake a while later, feeling lax but surprisingly energized. You walk into the kitchen, noticing the sun setting from the window.

“I think today is New Year’s Eve, doll,” Phillip says behind you.

You check your phone while Phillip rubs the sleep from his eyes, noticing that it is in fact New Year’s Eve. The days got away from me, you think, leaning into Phillip’s embrace, in the best way possible.

“Will you help me make hot chocolate?” you ask. “I want to try again with the recipe.”

“As long as you teach me how to make snickerdoodle cookies,” Phillip agrees, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Deal.”

By the time both tasks are finished, you and Phillip find yourselves in the back patio, wrapped in blankets with two cups of delicious hot chocolate and a plate of snickerdoodle cookies. The clock strikes midnight and fireworks light up the sky, Phillip gently grasping your chin while he gives you a New Year's kiss.

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#phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves smut #cod mw2 smut #graves x reader #shadowlali

271 notes · View notes

cottonlemonade · 16 days

Text

Plan B [part 2]

word count: 1490 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

part 1 for context

____________________________________________

Of course your staff had immediately informed you about the display from the day before when you came in the following morning. The barista even showed you a few snapshots he had taken with his phone and as much as you hated to admit it, you would have loved to have been there to see it in person. Pictures didn’t really do him justice, you thought. “Should I send those to you, manager?”, the barista asked with a knowing smirk. When you didn’t say anything but just stoically walked past him into the kitchen, you were glad when your phone buzzed a few seconds later and a small flood of pictures appeared in your chat. You cleared your throat and got to work.

Despite his regular appearances the last couple of weeks, the guy didn’t show up again the next day. Or even the day after that.

“Maybe he actually finally gave up?”, the waitress suggested with a shrug. She was counting the receipts while the barista helped you clean the espresso maker.

“I hope not. What else are we gonna do for entertainment around here?”

“How about your job.”, you suggested.

The barista let out a theatrical groan, which earned him a dish towel to the face.

At this point, a week had passed since the last time you saw the guy and although you found your thoughts wandering to his handsome smile every so often, you decided it was most likely for the better.

It was late in the evening and the café was closed for the day. The sky was gray and obviously brewing up something unpleasant so you wanted to make sure to send your team home as quickly as possible.

Soon enough, after hugs and waves goodbye, you locked the glass door from the inside and went to the kitchen to prep food for the next day.

You had just started to mash up a bowl of overripe bananas when a soft knocking made you look up and glance through the serving hatch.

The wind outside brushed past the shops with a low whistle and you could make out a very familiar shape in the dim light of the streetlamps.

More excited than you’d like to admit you made your way to the door.

“Sorry, I’m late.”, the guy’s voice was muffled through the glass.

You pointed to the Closed sign with a raised eyebrow. He put his hands together in a silent plea.

With a very big eye roll you grabbed the keys from your apron pocket and opened the door a handwidth.

“Hi.”

“Hey there.”

“I need a cake.”

“Goodbye.”, you closed the door again.

“Please!”, he called.

You shook your head and gestured to your ear to signal you couldn’t hear him.

He thought for a moment, then took out his phone and began to type something. A few seconds later he held the screen up against the glass.

Forgot to get cake for friend’s birthday.

You pulled a notepad from your belt and wrote “unfortunate” in response.

Low rumbling of thunder made you both look to the horizon. A few moments passed in which he threw you puppy dog eyes. You sighed loudly and unlocked the door again.

Not a minute too soon. With the click of the lock the first heavy raindrop hit the windowfront.

“Thank you.”, he said with a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it. But you will have to live with what’s left of the day. The ones for tomorrow still need to be decorated.”

He followed you to the counter, having the decency to look apologetic as you waved him to come along further to check out the cakes in the fridge.

He chose a white chocolate cake with strawberries and you carried it back to the front to pack it up.

“How has your last week been?”, he asked as you worked.

“Uhm, I made my best cinnamon rolls yet and finally found my TV remote. So pretty good, I’d say. How about you?”

“Not as good as yours apparently. Pretty busy. I had to do some traveling and give a bunch of presentations. Sorry I couldn’t come by to bring up that counter you keep on the blackboard.”

You closed your eyes and made an indefinable noise. You'd have to talk to your staff about the concept of discretion.

“Technically, that means I owe you at least one.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

He swaggered closer and, leaning on the counter, considered you for a moment.

You held his gaze, expecting the worst.

“Wait, I… actually forgot what I wanted to say."

You tried not to smile but were betrayed by your pursed lips.

"Gotta be honest, of all your flirting so far that has been the best one."

He gave you a half smile.

"How about you don't see it as flirting. See it as me just being extra friendly to someone extra beautiful."

You scoffed but couldn’t stop a short sort of giggle escaping your lips.

After a moment’s pause he added, now with genuine sweetness, "Go out with me. Just once. I promise it'll be fun. And really, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Where do I even start?"

"Okay. But besides that, the worst that can happen is that we realize we don't have anything in common."

You looked at him, your head slightly tilted in thought.

"Like, what are you doing tonight after work?", he suggested.

"Well, I’m meeting some friends."

"What will you be doing?”

“A museum has a science night we wanna check out.”

“Oh! Really?”, he asked excitedly, dropping his flirtatious manner completely. And sure enough this little piece of information carried you through the subject of scientific fun facts to books to hobbies and so on. The rain had lessened significantly but an hour later he was still there, sitting on a chair at the kitchen island, talking while you worked, peppering in little compliments here and there but keeping it mostly pleasantly fluffy.

When you eventually parted in front of the café, Kuroo hesitated, obviously thinking about how to say Goodbye. In the end you both settled for slightly awkward smiles and went your separate ways.

He had an extra spring in his step as he arrived at the restaurant, incredibly late but incredibly happy. His friend accepted the cake with a tipsy, somewhat off-key belt of “Happy birthday to me!” and pointed to a free seat next to Kenma.

"Someone's looking chipper.", his former setter commented and accepted a slice of birthday cake, “Why did you leave me here alone?”

“You’re hardly alone, Kenma-kun.”, the older one said vaguely, "I had to pick up the cake first. I only remembered when I was already at work."

"So… is it from that little café?"

Kuroo shrugged, but was unable to hide a grin.

His friend lifted a brow. Originally, Kuroo hadn’t meant to talk about it. About how he didn't expect you two to actually have so much in common, about how funny you were, how smart and how gorgeous you looked even after a long day at work. How you practically made him beg to get into the café at all and how easy it was to talk to you once the ice was broken. It took him a few minutes to finally stop gushing.

"Sounds like a very promising night.", Kenma said approvingly, hoping he’d finally be free of his friend’s whining about why you wouldn’t go out with him, "So you got her number, then."

Kuroo's dreamy expression fell at once. "Oh.”

The sun glistened on the streets still soaked from last night’s rain but the air smelled fresh and you hummed to yourself when you thought about the previous evening. As you unlocked the cafe’s front door you heard someone calling your name and turned around.

Your stomach dropped when you spotted Kuroo on the other side of the road, waiting to cross safely.

“Good morning.”, he said, a little out of breath but with a winning smile.

“Good morning. What brings you by so early?”

“I have a full day today so I wouldn’t be able to come by otherwise.”

You tried hard not to look too pleased.

“I was wondering, if - I mean, I forgot to - Could I have your number?”

Pretending to think about it, you opened the door.

“Do you want that on a to-go cup?”

“That would be easier to brag with.”, he said, nodding thoughtfully and stepping in behind you.

While you prepared his usual, Kuroo watched you closely and you weren’t sure if the pink in his cheeks was from his jog here or something else.

When you handed him his tea a few minutes later he stood there, looking you up and down with his cheeky grin.

You squinted in suspicion.

“You look even cuter than usual today.”

“Get out before I charge you double.”

He lifted the cup and winked. “Talk to you later.”

____________________________________________

#kuroo x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurou x chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x you

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idyllcy · 7 months

Text

and baby, if you knew

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of the night before (?), morning after, hickies (?)

summary: oh the horrors of getting caught the morning after (pt2 of saying we're just friends)

You stare at yourself in the mirror, blinking incredulously. (Partially out of pure shock, partially because sleeping with your contacts on was NOT a smart decision on your end)

Holy fuck, Tim got mouthy with you.

You tilt your neck to brush your fingers over the hickeys, gawking at the way it trails down your neck and collar to your chest, the purple popping on your skin. Sure, you weren't half as pale as Tim was, but hello? You didn't even bring concealer. You weren't expecting him to take you to the Wayne Manor.

"Tim." You swallow, grimacing.

Tim raises a brow, shirt pulled halfway over his head.

"How many hickeys did you give me? Do you have a whisk? Do you have ice? Are you secretly a vampire???"

"One question at a time, lovely." he mumbles. "Seven. There's a whisk and ice downstairs. I am not secretly a vampire, although I can see why you'd guess that."

You blink at him. "Do you have a collared shirt?"

"Just settle for one of my shirts for now." He pulls the shirt over his head, tossing you the other one in the bed.

"Please tell me it's not sheer."

"It's not."

"Thank GOD you're rich." You mumble. "It's a blessing to have non-sheer white shirts."

"Yeah, I get that." He mumbles. "Come on. Alfred called us for breakfast a little ago."

"Which one of your siblings are here?"

"We'll see." Tim hums, shutting the door to his room. (All of them are downstairs, likely. They were probably having a post-valentine debriefing like they usually do. Bruce was not spared from it.)

You duck behind Tim when you notice everyone having breakfast.

"You said we'll see! Are none of them staying with the people they were out with last night?!"

"It happens every year." Tim hums, holding his hand out for you. "Come on. Don't do the walk of shame."

"Seriously. I run a stan account for you and live in my dorm. I'm practically a hermit." You deadpan. "I am NOT cut out to be meeting your family this early in the morning."

"Master Tim, young miss. Are you ready for breakfast? We are having pancakes."

"Just kidding I would kill for pancakes right now." You mumble, following behind Tim as he sits you next to him.

All eyes are on you as you adjust the collar of your shirt, the tag scratching against your skin, the hickeys on your neck visible. You thank Alfred as he places a plate before you, and you start at the chocolate chip pancakes. Holy shit, fuck the eyes on you, this was heaven.

"Alfred, do you have a recipe book?" You blink at him, eyes wide in admiration.

"Which recipe would you like, young miss?"

"Oh, all of them if possible. I'd love to be able to cook half as well as you can." You hum, taking another bite of your food. "Do you have a digital copy?"

"Unfortunately, all of it is on paper or in here." He smiles, tapping his brain. "But I am more than willing to provide you with any recipes you may like."

"Mm!" You shove the last piece of the pancake into your mouth, swallowing as you get up. "Tim, do you have a laptop? I want to type a couple recipes down and transcribe what's on paper—"

"Pull open the drawer to your left." He hums.

You pull it open, blinking at him.

"There's a false bottom in it. One of my spare laptops is in it. The password is a combination of letters." He hums.

"With significance?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then I know an approximation, then." You hum, working your finger into the side as you prop it open, pulling his laptop out. "Is it our birthdays?"

"Wait, how did she–" Dick's cut off when you manage to open it on your first try.

"Alright. I'm gonna go! I'll be with Alfred if you need anything." You smile.

"She just?" Duke blinks incredulously. "Did she just hack open your laptop on her first try? Is she in compsci like you?"

"English." Tim grabs a couple pancakes, cutting off a piece of butter. "Creative writing, technically."

"Oh, is she making her own major?"

"Yes." Tim hums. "I don't actually know how she guessed that it would be our birthdays since I only changed it a little while ago. It'd be easier to open if it was just our birthdays combined. Maybe she was stalking me."

"Or, maybe all the years of running a Robin Twitter account finally paid off." Jason shrugs. "She's quite a big writer on the internet too, you know?"

"Yeah." Tim hums. "She's quite the character. Have you read her works?"

"I have." Damian speaks up. "Her writing resembles poetry, pulling on the strings of your heart and snapping them at moments you least expect."

"You've read her works?!" Tim raises a brow at Damian. "That's surprising."

"She resembles the poets."

"She'd love to hear that come out of your mouth for sure." Tim mumbles. "Anything else I should know?"

"She covered me for change once while I went to buy cup noodles." Cass mumbles.

"I'm mutuals with her on Twitter?" Steph points.

"Okay, that's not the point. Timmy." Dick deadpans. "Did you sleep with her last night?"

"Sex or just plain sleeping? Because we did both—"

"I DIDN'T GET TO GIVE YOU THE SHOVEL TALK!" Dick cries. "Okay, when a man and a—"

"Dick, I'm well over into the ages of a legal adult." Tim sighs. "Besides, I'm like seventy percent sure that you gave me the shovel talk when you first found out I was dating Ari in high school. Also, I got one from my dad and Bruce, so I think I'm good."

"Oh, right." Dick mumbles. "But still."

Steph pauses. "Does she want a whisk?"

"She was asking for one earlier." Tim hums.

"We'll go help." Cass mumbles, getting out of the seat, dragging Steph.

"Okay, Tim. Is she the one who was making you all red and blushy during Christmas?" Dick slides closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Yes." Tim sighs, batting Dick's hand away. "She was."

"How'd you ask her out?"

"Told her if she had nothing to do on Valentine's, then she could stick with me and I could plan a date." Tim reaches for another pancake.

"And she agreed?" Jason snorts. "Wow. She's way out of your league."

"Yeah, but at least I got B's absolutely insane ability to pull." He mumbles. "Pulled way out of my league, for sure."

"If you fumble her I fear the things that will happen to you, Drake." Damian clicks his tongue.

"Do I... know her?"

"Duke," Damian sighs. "You're smarter than this."

"He's messing with you right now." Jason pours himself another cup of coffee.

"What's your relationship with her." Tim deadpans.

"She used to peer review my poems." He hums. "It didn't click until Damian showed me her information this morning, though."

"You just let them go through my girlfriend's personal information?!" Tim finally looks at Bruce, who only gives him a shrug.

"No harm in knowing a little more about your girlfriend."

"I swear, if you bring her in on the vigilantism—"

"That's not happening. I can promise that." Bruce glances at his almost empty mug. "Does she know?"

"She called me out for being Red Robin last night in the car." Tim sighs. "Besides, it'd be strange if she didn't notice immediately how similar Red Robin and I's voices are."

"She's been running your account for how long... now?" Bruce motions for Jason to pass him the coffee.

"Since middle school, so like..." Tim pauses. "Give or take seven years."

"That's a long time." Dick mumbles. "My longest-running fanpage is only six-ish years."

"If you count the Gotham Gazette, then I've been running for the longest." Bruce snorts. "Is she the one?"

"I think she is." Tim smiles. "And if she's not..."

"Then I will personally see the end of your life, Drake." Damian grumbles. "I shall have mother adopt her and have her write poetry for me in exchange for a living space and food. She shall be the equivalent of a court poet except to mother and I."

"I honestly think she wouldn't turn that down." Tim grimaces.

"Is she that desperate?"

"She's joked about sleeping with a millionaire to make some money." Tim grimaces. "Something something desperate situations call for desperate measures."

"She would love it in mother's mansion, then." Damian hums, sipping on his tea. "I shall have her write a poem for your death. It shall be my last mercy."

Tim grimaces. "What if she breaks up with me?"

"Then you're in the fault, obviously." Jason mumbles, looking at his phone.

"So it's my fault regardless of what happens?"

"Listen, her tweets are unhinged. You can't say you like crazy girls and then get annoyed when you date one and she acts insane." Jason grumbles.

"He's got a point, Timmers." Dick hums. "I hope it works out for the best, regardless of the ending."

"Twenty bucks they are endgame." Damian mumbles.

"Alfred bet ten that Tim would pop the ring."

"Ugh, come on. You know no one out-bets Alfred." Dick groans. "Did he set up the jar?"

"He did. This morning." Duke hums. "I put my bet in too."

"Come on–"

"You can't say shit when you bet on all of our relationships and pretty much came out unscathed in all of them." Jason glares. "Shut it."

Tim rolls his eyes, surrendering himself to the idea that his relationship would get bet on.

"Tim, can I marry your sisters?" You come out of the kitchen, eyes sparkling.

"We're dating." He sighs. "Pretty bird—"

"EWWWWWWW" A mixture of faked hurls and gags are heard in unison as Tim rolls his eyes.

"Ignore them. Why do you want my sisters?"

"The hickeys are all," You pull your shirt down too to show your cleavage, the hickeys no longer visible, "gone! Your sisters are really good at this."

"Yeah..." Tim sighs, reaching to pull your shirt back up. "Steph isn't my sister, by the way."

"Oh, yes, I know." You smile. "After all, if she was, it'd be strange that you've dated her before."

Tim chokes on the air at your statement.

"Besides, she's my mutual." You hum. "I also got Alfred's recipes, by the way." You hum, smile on your face. "I also got his chocolate chip cookie recipe, though I need to figure out what the secret ingredient is."

"A dash of vanilla extract." Tim lowers his voice. "Don't tell the rest of the family."

"Got it." You give him a thumbs up.

"Do you cook?" Damian speaks up.

"I do! Mainly ethnic foods, since there isn't much of that here in Gotham." You mumble. "Got any good Chinese places?"

"Oh, there's this place on Seventh Ave and Jester." Bruce speaks up. "I used to get dim sum there. It's only open from eight to twelve, and you need to get in via reservation. Feel free to borrow my name whenever. Just make sure to invite me."

"Uncle Dan's, right?" You beam. "I went there a while back with another friend, but I miss like... the dim sum that's messy and chaotic in the morning."

"Oh, then try the one on Lightbeam." Dick pauses. "Ah, what was the other street?"

"Oh, that one's good." Duke agrees. "Sam Woo's Dim Sum and BBQ."

"I've had that too!" You smile. "They're good, just quite a while from the university."

"If you really want something good," Cass speaks up from behind you, "try Jin."

"Jin?"

"It's smaller, but it's family-run, and it's been doing business in Gotham for three generations already." Cass hums. "They're called Jin, but the Chinese character for gold. They're right by Gotham U too. On the corner by Circle K."

"The sketchy looking alley??" You blink.

"Yes, but their dumplings are to die for." She pauses. "And they sell in bulk if you want to boil any in your dorm."

"Tim, I want your sister."

"Pretty bird, we just started going out." He clicks his tongue.

"Tim, if you break her heart, I will date her." Cass blinks.

"You can visit her when she stays in mother's mansion."

"Hm?" You turn to blink at Damian.

"Ignore him—"

"Should you and Drake break up, I have already arranged your living arrangements, should you agree to it."

"And what might they be?" You hand the laptop to Tim, pointing at the document you shared with yourself.

"With my mother. Your only job shall be to write poems and short stories to entertain her."

"Living and writing for the Talia Al Ghul? Count me in." You sigh dreamily.

"Alright." Tim shuts the laptop after changing the password. "We're going to get going before her roommate calls the cops on her."

"Oh, right!" You mumble. "It was a pleasure meeting you all! I hope to see you again sometime?"

"Tim, send her number in the chat later!" Dick calls as Tim pulls you out.

"Sorry, they're quite embarrassing." Tim mumbles.

"They're warm." You smile. "I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Tim sighs in relief at the look of fondness on your face. Right.

You'll be fine.

#1: I wrote this in a frenzy in like 3 ish hours?#2: i've been awake for 20 hours at this point. yay.#someone needs to put me into like a medically induced coma so I can sleep properly or smth #ok anyways #THIS ONE'S FOR YOU ANON!!!#Tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #ugh I'm pushign everything in the queue back for this ughhhHHHHHHHH nvm I'm queuing this gn I'll see u when this posts on uhhh idk #☾.fics

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icequeenbae · 3 months

Text

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings [whole story]: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 4.5k (pt.1)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

Chapter Masterlist: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: This has taken me so, SO long to write and edit that I cannot believe the time has come to post it lmao I just wanted to write something simple with the classic boy-next-door vibe but as usual, the story ended up being much longer than planned and I am going to post it as a mini-series. Please keep in mind that your feedback is what motivates me to write and post more <3 And biiig thanks to the lovely @beomcoups for taking on the beta duties on this whole story~

Network Tags: @bbh-net @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

PART 1

In the lobby or on your floor – those were the two locations where you’d been bumping into Baekhyun most often. Which wasn’t that strange, considering that you were neighbors. But it somehow always caught you off guard and left you flustered.

Just like the first time.

It happened almost a year ago when you were waiting for the elevator on the first floor of your building with your best friend Yuki, who came early to help you with preparations. A guy in a loose white dress shirt and jeans stepped into the elevator with you, politely greeting you before pressing his floor number.

‘Oh, you live on the 13th as well? So, you and our Y/N are neighbors!’ Yuki exclaimed.

‘Nice to meet you,’ you muttered and bowed, shy from the sudden introduction. He reciprocated, chocolate hair falling into his eyes charmingly.

‘You should come to her housewarming party! It’s in a couple hours,’ Yuki chimed in again. ‘You don’t need to bring anything, it’s just a small thing with a couple friends and neighbors. We’re making sure Y/N-ie settles in nicely here. So please come, we have tons of food!’

If anyone could ever say no to your friend… Well, you had never met such a person. You guessed that Baekhyun was simply too stunned by her enthusiasm, so he said he’d swing by for sure. In a way, you were thankful that she’d asked him – you’d have never had the guts to invite someone like that; especially not anyone as good-looking and cool as Baekhyun.

You regretted letting your bestie invite him the following evening when your party was in full swing for several hours. Most of the food was devoured, so now you were all drinking, crunching on snacks, and conversing; or trying to while jumping from one topic to another.

‘I wish we could gather more often. We all like to hang out with you, you know?’

As always, Yuki nagged at you for being too ‘stay-at-home’ of a friend.

‘I like to hang out too. But home is home. You know parties aren’t really my… favorite pastime.’

‘What is your favorite pastime, lying in bed cuddling your blanket?’ Chanyeol joked insensitively.

He should’ve known better since you were the most troubled in your group of friends regarding relationships. It was super tough for you to find a match, even when you made an effort to get out of the house and meet new people, mostly because of your history of failed relationships where your partners gained interest in someone else. It seemed like you were too plain to hold someone’s attention for long. So, you’d been ‘that single friend’ for several lonely years now. And at this time, you were actually in the very beginning of a new, promising relationship. You were still pretty insecure about it; thus, Yeol’s comment really did make you flinch. He was drunk, so that was understandable, but you still sulked at his words, mainly because they were true.

‘Hey, it doesn’t have to be a blanket.’ You frowned, pressing the straw to your lips in frustration.

‘I’m kinda sad that guy you’ve been talking to couldn’t come,’ Yuki interjected. ‘I wanted to find out what he’s like.’

‘Minho had work-related travel, so he’s resting up.’ You shrugged, sipping your drink timidly.

‘I’m sure the guy made this excuse just to avoid meeting your friends. How long have you known him for, like, two days?’ Chanyeol interjected.

‘It’s been a few weeks, actually,’ you corrected, and Hoseok, Yuki’s boyfriend, muttered a reproaching ‘hyung’ in his direction.

‘Gosh, you’re really this stupid while drunk,’ Yuki shook her head disapprovingly at your friend, who simply shrugged.

Baekhyun was pretty silent during the latest exchange, so when you briefly made eye contact, it reminded you that he could also hear all of that chatter. Which made you want to choke on your drink from humiliation. Thankfully, one of your friends still had some tact left that night, so they quickly changed the direction of the conversation. Still… you’d been mortified for weeks after the event, doing your best to avoid bumping into Baekhyun when leaving for work.

***

The next time you met, Baekhyun was also in the lobby of your apartment building. And once again, before a gathering at your place. Just days prior you had lost it and left your resignation letter at your boss's desk. Working such long hours under the constant pressure of absolutely unrealistic deadlines was taking its toll on you for sure. But when you found out they promoted a person, who was obviously less experienced and capable than you in working (but more capable in flirting with your manager), instead of you… It became the last straw.

Baekhyun appeared right on time as you struggled to push the elevator button with a whole case of beer in your hands.

‘Y/N,’ you heard his velvety voice call. ‘Nice to see you.’

‘Oh- Hi, Baekhyun.’ You greeted awkwardly, puffing from the weight you had to balance.

‘Let me help you with that?’ His suggestion sounded like a question, yet he instantly scooped the case from your hands.

‘You don’t need- thank you,’ you said, and he shook his head to indicate that it wasn’t a big deal.

‘So… having a party again?’ He asked as the elevator doors closed.

‘I wouldn’t call it a party,’ you hummed, looking at your feet. ‘I kinda had to quit my horrible job of 4 years, so my friends are making me celebrate it. Not that becoming unemployed calls for a celebration…’

You trailed off, not wanting to be a nuisance to your neighbor. He was just making small talk.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you taking a break now or looking for something else?’

‘I’ll start looking next week. It’s Friday, my friends are coming… So I’ll try to just clear my mind and rest for one full weekend before I start stressing about a new job. Hopefully, my friends wouldn’t talk my ear off about it – that’s what the beer’s for. My little trick,’ you chuckled sheepishly.

‘Aren’t your friends supposed to treat you in this situation?’ Baekhyun huffed, shaking his head to rearrange his hair and better see you.

‘They should… bring more alcohol with them, I think. I couldn’t have them over for nothing, though.’

The doors opened after a robotic voice announced your floor.

‘Well, anyhow. Thanks a lot for your help!’ You tried taking the beer from Baekhyun, but he didn’t let you.

‘Open the door first; you can’t do it while holding this.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ you fussed, pressing your password in.

Baekhyun quickly placed the case on the floor of your hallway.

‘You should come!’ You blurted out, instantly getting flustered. ‘If you want.’

‘I might drop by if I’m free,’ he smiled softly. ‘My family wanted to have a video call later. That may take long.’

‘Of course. Have fun!’ You nodded, beating yourself up in your mind for being so weird suddenly.

‘You have fun,’ he chuckled, stepping towards his apartment. ‘Oh, and Y/N?’

Looking up at him as he called your name, you were met with his warm yet serious eyes.

‘If you need anything… You know where to find me.’

That made you strangely sentimental.

‘T-thank you.’

He sent you a message later on and let you know he couldn’t make it to your party. But in a way, he was there – on your mind.

***

It was about three weeks after you’d broken things off with Minho. If you could even consider it one, the relationship wasn’t long, only a couple months. At first, you thought it could be something, realizing later that it was only wishful thinking. There was no way the two of you could make it work; you were just not compatible with each other. The more you got to know him, the more you were reassured of that. Your life goals were different, your outlook on relationships was different… even your ideas of quality time with a significant other didn’t match. This time, the initial infatuation wore off rather quickly – probably because you didn’t go out of your way to appease him. You knew it was probably for the better. Pretty much all of your relationships ended the same way, with your boyfriends telling you they found someone else. Someone… more exciting.

This was the case for your first relationship halfway in your first year of university.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t feel the spark, you know? You’re so… domestic,’ your then-boyfriend said in his breakup speech. ‘I’m young, I want to experience stuff, be bold, and have fun. And there are people that I can do this with, who’ll also enjoy it.’

It repeated less than two years later when you’d barely worked up the courage to try and start something with another person. When it happened the third time, you decided you weren’t really made for relationships. It was ironic since you always wanted to be in one. You were very affectionate and were keen on taking care of people. Yes, you weren’t that into big gatherings and parties, and maybe it was a little too difficult to drag you anywhere when you were stressing about the upcoming tests and stuff… But you weren’t completely closed off! Even with those limitations, you were very sociable and had many friends. Was it so bad that you didn’t say yes to every suggestion? Did your inclination to stay at home and have cozy dates instead of outdoorsy stuff make you a non-relationship material? It seemed like every time someone else appeared, your boyfriends easily decided to move on.

And even though you weren’t in love with Minho, this breakup still made you sour. What made this particular day suck was that you’d found out that he was already in a new relationship; happily broadcasting it everywhere.

You weren’t jealous of him for being with someone else. You envied him for being able to find another partner in mere days after you parted ways, while for you, it felt like you’d never find or be able to retain anyone. Ever. Never ever.

‘Earth to Y/N!’ You jumped from someone’s voice ringing in your ears.

Looking up, you saw that the elevator doors were held open by your dashing neighbor, who was staring directly at you.

‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you quickly entered. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ Baekhyun smiled, pressing the button for your floor. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Um, yeah. No. I mean-’ You sighed. ‘I’m just a bit out of sorts.’

‘Trouble at work?’

‘No, my new job is great. A huge improvement on the previous one. It’s just… everything else is not nearly as great?’

Yeah, because you pushed yourself to get back on the market to finally not be alone, and here you were. Back to square one.The sniffling you produced startled even your own self.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ he replied, his voice gentle. ‘Do you want to talk?’

‘Oh no, I wouldn’t dream about boring you with my stupid problems.’

‘I’m sure they aren’t stupid,’ he said. ‘And I have ice cream. Almost any flavor you could think of.’

You looked at him silently, and he smiled again reassuringly.

‘It’s not mandatory for you to tell me anything. But I can treat my favorite neighbor with some ice cream, can I not?’

‘Am I your favorite just because you don’t know anyone else?’ You snickered gawkily.

‘No. Not just-’

He was interrupted by the usual announcement of your floor.

‘So, what do you think? You can change first and then come, no hurry. I’m free tonight.’

You puckered your lips, genuinely intrigued by his offer. Ice cream sounded perfect right about now. Although agreeing just because of the promised treats was pretty childish, you couldn’t help but be seduced by his suggestion. So, you gave him a shy nod.

‘Okay. Throw on something comfy and come over.’

You entered your respective apartments, and only after the door behind you locked… you realized that your heart was racing.

‘Damn you, Y/N, why did you agree to do this??’ You whined, catching a glimpse of your scrunched-up face in the mirror.

Fishing your phone out of your handbag quickly, you messaged Yuki.

You | I fucked up, Yu!!

You | Idk what to do now…. ㅠㅠ

Ki-yaah | What happened?? Did you like a pic on Minho’s new gf’s SNS??

Ki-yaah | I’m so dumb for telling you about this… I’m so sorry Y/N ㅠㅠ

You | No, not that

You | Who cares about Minho and his girlfriend??

You | I mean, I was a bit salty about this… But I met Baekhyun again!

Ki-yaah | Baekhyun? Your cute as fuck neighbor Baekhyun??

You | No

You | Yes?

You | My neighbor Baekhyun. I blurted out that I wasn’t in the greatest mood, and he invited me to his place for ice cream!

Ki-yaah | WHAT

Ki-yaah | YAH

Ki-yaah | THAT SLEEK BASTARD

Ki-yaah | I hope you’re texting me from his couch

Ki-yaah | Or kitchen counter

Ki-yaah | Or wherever you kids decide to do it

A bunch of obscene emojis appeared on your screen, making you blush on the spot.

You | Do it?? We’re not doing anything. I’m home!

Ki-yaah | So, you’ve already done it?? HOW WAS IT??

Ki-yaah | Waaah, you’re quick these days, Y/N-ah! Finally, you’re learning your lessons

Ki-yaah | I hope you wrapped it up though

Ki-yaah | I wouldn’t blame you if you skipped it, though, I can imagine how starved you are on good sex.. Still, safety first!

Ki-yaah | Wait, so was he?? Any good??

Ki-yaah | You’re silent!

She typed so fast that you didn’t even have a second to write back, mostly from shock – your friend wasn’t always this shameless, actually.

Then she started calling.

‘Yah, why aren’t you spilling the beans?? Too worn out to type, bestie?’ She smirked on the phone, making you cringe.

‘Because there’s nothing to spill! I haven’t even gone over yet.’

There was a second of silence.

‘… What?!’

‘I have to change; I just came from work, you know? My makeup needs fixing too…’

Your phone instantly started vibrating as a video call request came in, which you begrudgingly accepted.

‘Damn, you can’t go like this. It’s not seductive at all!’ She exclaimed.

‘I’m not going over to seduce anyone! And he told me to wear something comfy…’

‘What?? Hm, actually…’ She tapped her index finger on her chin, deep in thought. ‘He does look like the type to be into that.’

‘I-into what?’

‘Cute girls! I told you already, he was probably crushing on you since the time he came to your housewarming party!’

‘Pfft, that’s ridiculous. And don’t bring up him allegedly glaring at Yeol for his stupid comments again, I beg of you!’

‘Alright. But he’s always so nice to you! Oh-Em-Gee, you’d look so cute together,’ she squealed.

‘I don’t have time for this. I can’t have him waiting for much longer, and I need to shower…’

‘Yes! And remove your makeup while you’re at it.’

‘Huh?? If I redo my makeup… isn’t it gonna look strange? Like I’m trying too hard?’

‘You won’t have to redo it. You’ll have only very basic nude makeup on. Looking all natural and cute.’

‘I swear, if you say ‘cute’ one more time-’

‘Can’t a girl dream?? I can already imagine how cute your children would be…’ Your friend kept musing.

‘I’m hanging up.’

‘Yah, take this seriously. Clean up nicely, and let your hair down. Also, shave your-’

‘Yuki!!’

‘You never know!! One second, he’s licking ice cream off his spoon; the other, he’s l-’

Quickly tapping on your phone screen, you canceled this embarrassing call. The vivid images didn’t leave your mind as fast, though, so you shivered, shaking your head to get rid of the obscenities.

‘She’s a bad influence, for sure,’ you muttered, still ashamed of yourself for imagining your neighbor in such a context.

The time was ticking, so you decided that Yuki was somewhat right and needed to clean up. You also needed to hurry the heck up; you didn’t want to make Baekhyun wait too long. Thirty minutes later, you were in front of his door.

‘Come in, come in,’ he ushered you inside, having you change your footwear for the pink house slippers.

Why did he have those again?

‘Cute, right? I ordered them for my niece and got the size completely wrong, but they fit you perfectly. I guess I wasn’t wrong after all.’

He looked at your feet for another second before blinking and clearing his throat.

‘Let’s not waste any more time, everything’s ready. Come on!’

Everything? Did he prepare a whole reception?

You took a good look at the back of his head as he walked you to his kitchen, noticing that his hair was slightly wet. Did he also shower? You swallowed at the thought. He probably didn’t invest as much time into the preparations as you did, though. You blamed your best friend for the inappropriate thought she planted in your head!

‘Here, take a look.’

He opened his freezer, and you gasped.

There was an entire collection of ice cream. Cones, popsicles, buckets… All different flavors and manufacturers.

‘I see you’re impressed,’ he smirked. ‘I have a niece and a nephew, you know? Kids aren’t easy to please these days.’

‘Can’t deny that I am. How many do you have here?’

‘No idea… I just keep buying them. Which one’s to your liking? You can try different ones. I’m in the mood for mint choco and lemon.’

‘Those are my favorites!’ You jumped up like a kid.

‘Really? Both?’

‘Yeah! I haven’t seen a lemon ice cream anywhere, only sorbets! Where did you find it?’ You closed the freezer as he got the two buckets out.

Baekhyun suddenly seemed pleased with himself.

‘You think I give away trade secrets just like that…’ He replied mysteriously.

‘I wanna buy some too,’ you pouted, circling around him while he took the lids off. ‘If you don’t tell me… I’ll eat all of yours!’

‘Ha, go ahead. There’s more where that came from,’ he teased right back, hovering slightly over you.

Lowering your gaze to avoid staring directly at him, you noticed something.

‘What’s this?’

Baekhyun turned back to the counter.

‘Ah, this old thing? You know how ice cream scoops are sold in paper cups or cones? This thing,’ he picked it up. ‘Is to make those. Watch.’

He dipped the instrument in water and shook it slightly, then scooped the mint ice cream, creating a smooth green ball with tiny pieces of chocolate adding to its hue.

‘Cool,’ you muttered, genuinely finding that fascinating.

‘Right? It’s awesome!’

‘Let me guess: the kids don’t appreciate it enough?’ You asked.

‘Those little- Here, you try with lemon.’ He pressed on a small lever and dropped the green globe into a bowl.

You shook your head.

‘I’ll mess it up; you do it.’

‘Come on, Y/N. You can’t mess it up; it’s just ice cream.’

‘Just ice cream? You don’t deserve to know the secret selling spots for this!’

He snorted, moving to the side to give you more space to try and repeat his previous actions.

You dipped it in water like he did and shook it before moving the lemon ice cream bucket closer. Spending about twenty seconds taking aim, you huffed.

‘I can’t do it! Yours is so round and pretty; I am not that professional.’

‘I’ll help,’ he chuckled at your meltdown, holding your wrist and softly pressing down on your hand to guide it. ‘Scoop it this way to make it full and round.’

You did as you were told, yet your mind was far away from the scooping technique. The entire focus of your being was now set on the unprecedented proximity you were in. He held your hand, his chest so close to your shoulder that you could feel the heat radiating off him. When you dropped a yellow ball of lemon ice cream into the bowl, you could only pray that he didn’t notice the goosebumps littering your arms.

‘See? Yours is even better-shaped than mine,’ he hummed close to your ear.

‘Y-yeah.’

As if sensing your perturbation, Baekhyun suddenly stepped back.

‘Trying just two flavors is a waste of an evening. Let’s get more.’

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in his living room at the small table in front of his couch. The bowl with at least a dozen different ice creams sat atop another one, which was filled with ice.

‘No one likes melted goo, right?’ Baekhyun chuckled while constructing this mobile freezer.

You tried all of them one by one, gushing about each flavor.

‘The grape one isn’t tickling my fancy,’ he said, nudging the oddly-colored glob away.

‘Really?’ You reached for it with your spoon.

‘Don’t even try it. That’s bad,’ he scrunched his nose. ‘I can taste every chemical they used to make this grape flavor.’

You laughed, trying it despite his protests.

‘It tastes like… very cheap jelly,’ you said.

‘Exactly! Such a strange texture. Hmm, I shall look for a better option then. My nephew Siwoo loves grapes.’

You smiled at his concern for his youngest family member’s preferences.

‘Your nephews must be the happiest kids in town with an uncle like that,’ you murmured, stealing a bite from the rest of the lemon ball that he subtly nudged your way earlier.

‘They’re pretty lucky, aren’t they?’ He agreed easily, earning a snicker from you.

As you savored the last of the lemon flavor on your tongue, he leaned in, eyes focused on your lips.

‘You eat just like Siwoo,’ he instinctively wiped your lower lip with his thumb.

Looking up at him, you caught the moment he realized what he was doing and retreated.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘It’s a habit.’

Pressing your finger to your lower lip, which was now burning, you shook your head neutrally.

‘It’s okay. You must spend a lot of time with them,’ you scooped more in your spoon to somehow soothe the burn on your lips.

‘Not as much as I’d like. Most of the time, our schedules don’t match up, especially with them living in a different city. I try to have them over or visit them as much as possible.’

Baekhyun’s voice became warmer as he reminisced.

‘I get scolded by hyung a lot for spoiling them. But what can I do? At least they’ll have those pleasant memories and presents to remember me by while we’re apart.’

‘Are they close in age?’

‘About four years apart. Seoyul is pretty grown already; I can’t believe her little brother is going to school soon as well.’ He smiled, remembering something. ‘When she started her first grade, he was so upset. He cried every time she left the house.’

‘Aw, that’s so cute,’ you cooed. ‘So they’re getting along well?’

‘Yeah, apart from the occasional bickering. Siwoo is… a boy.’

‘A little daredevil?’

‘He’s driving his noona insane sometimes. To be honest, I was exactly the same at his age. We’re both lucky to have siblings several years older.’

‘Ah, so your hyung is much older than you?’

‘Seven years. He was almost like a father,’ Baekhyun chuckled. ‘But had he been even a couple of years younger… Pretty sure he would’ve given me a piece of his mind back then.’

‘I wouldn’t ever imagine that you were a maknae of your family.’

‘Why? I had so much aegyo as a child! Yes, my mom had to exercise lots of patience, but I was cute as hell.’

‘I’m sure that’s how it was,’ you hummed.

‘I’m still in the top-3 cutest of our family list. Might even be cuter than Seoyul at times; she’s way too serious these days.’

‘Wow, going over your nephews’ heads after the title… How mature of you.’

‘Hey, don’t blame me for being extremely cute.’

‘Show me some aegyo then,’ you challenged him with a smile.

‘Huh, you wish. You’re not ready for my aegyo, Y/N-ie.’ He responded sassily.

‘Is that so?’ You smirked, holding his gaze up until the chime of your phone provided an interruption.

Your bestie found a great time to pry into your business, which was evident from the message previews on the screen.

Ki-yaah | You’re not texting me back…

Ki-yaah | Which either means that you chickened out…

Ki-yaah | …or his stamina is REALLY freaking impressive

Ki-yaah | Which one is it??? I hope it’s the latter!

You inhaled sharply and started coughing, barely managing to swipe those messages off the screen before Baekhyun could see them.

‘Are you okay?’ He patted you on the back to help you overcome your coughing fit.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t realize it was so late… It was so rude of me to keep you up. Let me help you clean this up.’

‘Leave it,’ he shook his head, catching you by the wrist. ‘I’ll put this away later.’

‘I’ll… get going then,’ you stood so abruptly that your legs couldn’t keep up with you, completely numb from being in the same position for so long.

‘Y/N!’ Baekhyun rose to catch you by the arms. ‘Take a second, sit on the couch. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep.’

You swatted at your legs with your palms, urging the blood flow to restore quicker.

‘Sorry…’

‘Why are you sorry? I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you.’ He stated simply.

‘It’s just so late… and… you must have stuff to do.’

‘Nope. I actually had fun. I rarely get to sit around at home munching on ice cream and enjoying another grownup’s company.’

You bit your lip shyly at his words, and he suddenly tsked.

‘Although I feel like we were mostly talking about me. That’s a shame. I want to hear about you as well,’ Baekhyun mused, walking you to the door. ‘Well, let’s save it for next time.’

Next time, he said.

Next time??

You turned your back on him to conceal the shade of your cheeks and pretended to fidget with the doorknob.

‘Let me,’ he reached over you, pressing his warm chest to your back for a second to unlock the door.

But before you could step outside, his fingers wrapped around your forearm in a lax hold.

‘And Y/N… If you ever find yourself craving some lemon ice cream… I’m ready to provide it.’

With that, he pushed the door open and allowed you to leave his apartment.

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! Another BBH mini-series started 💫 I hope you enjoyed part 1~ Pls let me know what you think via comments, asks and reblogs, my darlings 💜 Also, I am very curious if you are picturing anyone in particular as Hoseok hehe 🙃

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bubblegum-cherry-lips · 5 months

Text

bittersweet

summary: moving out of your place creates mixed feelings for you.

prompt: day 3 - bittersweet (prompts from this post)

pairing: poly marauders x (gender neutral) reader

cw: none

words: 523

•

Sirius carries the last box downstairs to the car, and for the first time that day, you are left alone in the flat you have called home for the last 10 years. It looks sad now, when all the furniture and stuff is gone - you haven’t noticed before how the walls have gone more gray than white, how the floor is all scratched and missing pieces of wood, and how the kitchen ceiling is covered with stains you no longer remember the origin of.

And even with all that, you still feel the ache at the thought that this is the last time you’re gonna be here.

You don’t regret the decision to move - you and the boys have been going steady for a while now, and with the time you spend over at their place, it’s really pointless to keep paying the rent here, and all the bills. And you are excited, you really are, at the thought of waking up to them every morning and knowing that they’d be there when you get home from work.

It’s just that this place, the tiny apartment with a single bedroom and ceiling-high windows in the living room, carries so many memories.

For example, right there on that couch, was the first time you kissed James. You two were watching movies, you don’t even remember which ones, but you do remember cuddling and dozing off in his arms. He kept petting your hair, scratching your scalp, and once he leaned to leave a kiss on your cheek, you turned your head and that was the first kiss you two shared - and many more followed.

When you look at the bedroom, you can’t forget that day when Sirius helped you paint the ceiling, balancing on the ladder as he tried to stick the fluorescent stars and paint you all your favorite constellations. And in that tiny bathroom, you remember sitting on the closed toilet as Remus takes off your make-up, face serious and hands gentle as he wiped it all off, planting kisses in between every swipe, all over your face.

Gods, even the stains on the ceiling tell the story of a birthday cake James and Sirius tried to bake and surprise you with, but it turned into a disaster and what you came home to that night was a chocolate-covered kitchen and store-bought cake, courtesy of Remus.

“You ready to go?” You’re not sure when exactly Sirius has returned, but you do feel his hand searching for yours and letting your fingers intertwine once he does find it, a dashing smile on his lips and the adorable blush on his cheeks, from the wind outside.

The ache and the memories may sit heavy on your chest, but there is too much good to look forward to in the future. So you nod, and squeeze your hand, and when you all pile into the car waiting downstairs, with James’ playlist echoing through the vehicle and Remus slowly driving you away from the building, you embrace the bitterness along with the sweetness.

Here’s to a new chapter - and all the amazing stuff it will bring.

#DecemberEvent2023 #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏' 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍

🐰easter masterlist🐰

summary - your husband, santa ari levinson, brings you to meet his good old friend, easter bunny logan howlett.

warning - smut, cuckolding, oral sex, fingering, swearing, creampie, breeding kink, human reader, easter bunny male, dumb bimbo reader, polyamorous, being used by men.

18+ only please, the gif and header aren't mine. happy easter!

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You didn’t know why Ari had given you this outfit to wear, but you weren’t complaining. It was cute and pink. You had smiled at him and placed a soft kiss on his lips before stripping and slowly pulling on the white stocking, followed by the adorable pink bodysuit that was a bit tight, but you had shrugged it off. Your breasts were pushed up, nearly falling out, and you had noticed the cute little fluffy white tail attached to it. You shrugged, slipping into the soft pink heels and placing the bunny ears on your head before walking to the mirror and checking your outfit out. You giggled to yourself, leaning forward to swipe some cherry-flavoured gloss across your plump lips before turning and smiling at your husband. “This is so cute! What’s the occasion?”

Ari walks over, wrapping his arms around you and palming your plump cheeks as he holds you close to him. “I have a friend I want you to meet. Thought it would be nice of you to dress up for him.” He hums, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead. “You’re going to be a good bunny, aren’t you, baby girl?” You nod as you stare up at him with wide eyes, wrapping your tiny arms around his giant form, and lean into him. He smiles down at you before leading you out of your bedroom and towards a portal that will take you to the mystery man. He smiles as you clutch onto him, and Ari hears a gasp as you both appear at the most beautiful field you have ever seen. A small giggle escapes you as you see tiny bunnies hopping around and getting things done.

“Oh my god! Bunnies!” You turn and look at your husband with wide eyes. “Am I getting to meet the Easter Bunny?!” Ari grins at the excitement in your voice and the awe in your eyes. He nods, and you squeal, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”

“Well, if I knew she’d be this excited to meet little old me, I would’ve brought some chocolate eggs.” You spin around, lifting your head up as you stare wide-eyed at the huge man. He smiles at you, causing your knees to buckle and you to lean slightly into your husband. “Hi, little bunny.” You choke, feeling slick build between your thighs at his voice and size.

“H–hi”, You stutter, a whimper slipping past your lips, realising you are between two vast and handsome men. “I–it’s nice to meet you.” You slightly stumble as you stick your hand out, biting your lip as a moan threatens to break out as he covers your tiny hand with his massive one. His skin is so warm and inviting, and your eyes drift down. You wonder what else is like that, and your eyes nearly bug out of your head at the bulge that rests between his legs before they quickly shoot up, your cheeks heating as he stares down at you with a smirk.

Both men chuckle before Ari pulls back and looks down at you. “You won’t mind hanging out with Logan, do you? I have to go and deal with the elves.” You blink slowly, your gaze moving from one man to another, and you nod, feeling a bit fuzzy. Ari smiles at you before leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Be good for him, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” You whimper. Feeling your husband’s warmth causes your insides to feel funny, and the thought of being alone with this charming man intensifies it. “I love you, and don’t go so hard on them. They aren’t as bad as you think.” You pout, looking up at him with nothing but love.

Ari chuckles. “They are only good when you are around, my love. You don’t see how they are when it’s just me.” He looks down at your still pouting face, shaking his head. He places a kiss on them. “But for you, I won’t be so hard on them.” You are too busy staring at him to notice the nod and smirk he gives Logan before turning and returning to the north pole. You slowly turn, realising you're alone with him, and you catch his eyes on your tail before they slowly trail back up your body.

“I need help reaching for some eggs, little bunny. Can you help?” He looks innocent enough when he asks, causing you to nod immediately, smiling when he smiles at you before you follow him toward where the eggs are unreachable. “They’re just around here, and I can’t get my damn hands through something so small.” He growls, feeling his cock twitch at how tiny you are compared to him. Logan’s hand makes its way to the small of your back, leading you. “I like your outfit, bunny. It’s adorable, suits you.”

You smile up at him, feeling giddy. “Thank you! Ari picked it out for me.” You giggle, and as you let him lead you over to the area, you can feel yourself become soaked, and you are ashamed at the feeling because you love Ari and the elves. But Ari did tell you to be good for his friend, and you didn’t want to disappoint either of them. “Is this it?” You ask, looking up at him before looking down at the small hole.

Logan nods, pretending to be sad even though he and Ari had set it up before you arrived. “Yeah, sadly, I’m too big, and even my bunnies have tried, but there’s a spot not even they can reach.” Obviously, that was a lie, but you didn’t need to know that. You looked up at him with a heartbroken look, pouting as you thought of all those wasted chocolates and how sad the bunnies must feel.

You place your tiny hand on his thick arm, “I’m sorry! I can definitely help!” You immediately kneel, crawling into the hole, not knowing you’ve given the Easter Bunny an incredible view. His cock hardens and strains against his pants as he stares at your plump ass and the wet spot forming. He smirks, stepping closer. “Ugh, I–I can’t reach.” You wiggle, trying to come out, but you find yourself stuck. “Oh no! I think I’m stuck!” You cry, not understanding how feral Logan is slowly becoming. “H–help, please.” You whimper, and Logan kneels close behind you, groaning as he smells your arousal. “Logan?”

His large hands grip your hips, burying his face in your sopping cunt. “Mmm, you smell so sweet, bunny. A stuck little bunny all for me.” His tongue flicks out, licking your wetness through the material before sucking your cunt through your bodysuit. “I’ve got myself a dumb little bunny.” You whimper, clutching the ground beneath you as he continues to nose and suck your cunt before his hand comes up, gripping the material and ripping it. “I’m sorry for ruining your pretty outfit, bunny. I’m sure Ari will fix it for you.” He grunts, hand finding the fluffy tail connected to the destroyed material, squeezing it as he dives forward, licking and sucking your folds and juices into his mouth. The feral man finds your swollen button and begins to feast on it, swirling his tongue around and sucking it.

Your whines and whimpers fill the tiny hole, clutching the ground beneath you, and your head flops forward and rests into your hands. “I–is too good… P–please.” Every time you wiggle your hips, it turns Logan on even more. Seeing your plump ass and the fluffy tail makes him nearly snap. “W–what about Ari?...” You whimper, your mind slowly fading as the giant man devours you.

Logan chuckles, his lips and chin covered in your arousal. His eyes stare at your cunt as he begins to speak. “Now you’re worried about Ari, little bunny? You didn’t seem to care about your husband a few minutes ago.” He rubs your clit before slipping his finger inside you, thrusting and curling it. Logan feels his cock throb at the tiny little sounds that escape you. “Don’t worry bout your husband, little bunny. He’s the one who said you deserved a little treat.” He growls, launching forward again, sucking your swollen clit as he stretches you with his fingers. “So lucky to get a stuck little thing like you.” You cry, wiggling and clenching around him, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Slutty, bunny. Cumming round someone else’s fingers.” He groans, licking his lips at the sight of your cream around his fingers. He lifts them to his mouth and begins to suck on them. “Taste so fucking good. Know why all those men are so obsessed with you.”

You huff, sagging into the ground as your body fills with exhaustion. You squeal as Logan grabs your hips and tugs you out of the hole, placing your tiny body onto his lap. Logan wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing softly before moving his hand from your throat to your cheek, slapping it gently. “Wakey, wakey, little bunny.” You blink, dazed, and Logan gives you a devilish smile. “There you are. You’re such a good little bunny.” You provide a faint smile, feeling your body heat up at the praise. You whine as he lifts you slightly before your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your mouth drops open, “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” Logan pushes his thick member through your sopping cunt, gripping your hips and slamming you down onto him. Your screams of pleasure echo throughout, your tiny hands grab his shoulders, and your nails dig into him.

“O–oh… Too big! Is good!” You lean into him, your face nuzzling into his neck. You're engulfed by him as he wraps his arms around you and begins to thrust up into you. You whimper and moan into him, clutching tightly as his pace picks up. His hand wraps into your hair and pulls your head back, your eyes hooded as you try and look at him through your lashes. Logan grins, leaning forward and pressing a rough kiss onto your lips. His tongue swipes across, and he groans into you.

“Taste like cherries, little bunny.” You whine when his tongue slips inside your mouth, dominating your entire being. Logan nips your bottom lip and pulls back, chuckling as you whimper and try to chase his lips. “Needy, bunny.” He fixes your little ears before standing and bouncing you up and down his cock. Logan walks over to the side of a hill, pushing you against it as he begins to pound into you, watching you slip from your mind and fully become his dumb little bunny. “Imagine if Ari could see you now, know what a slut his wife is.” Your nails dig into his biceps, holding onto him as you slip away. Logan groans as you pulsate around him, squeezing his monstrous cock as your juices squirt out of you and cover the large man. “Fuck! Jesus Christ, squeezing me so well, little bunny.” He holds your hips and digs his feet into the ground, thrusting harder and faster into you. “You think your husband would mind if I fill you up? Hmm? Think he’d be mad if you went home all pumped full and destroyed by another man?” He grins, and his head falls back, eyes screwing shut as his balls tighten and his cock twitches wildly, burying himself deep inside you before releasing his cum, thick spurts of it shoot out of his swollen tip and deep into your womb. Your moans fill his ears as you feel his cum fill you up, slowly leaking out of your small hole and down your legs onto the ground.

You wake to someone stroking your cheek, your eyes blinking open, and you smile as your gaze lands on your husband. “Ari!” You try and launch forward to hug him but find yourself sore and exhausted. You pout and look down to notice you have been changed into comfier clothes, and you begin to look around, wondering if it was all a dream, but when your eyes land on a smiling Logan, you know it wasn’t. You quickly look at Ari with wide eyes, opening your mouth to apologise when he kisses your forehead softly.

“I heard you were a good bunny, baby.” You nod slowly, sighing in relief as he lifts you into his lap, holding you close to him. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl. Did you have a good time with Logan?” You nod, feeling your face heat up, and you quickly hide it into Ari’s neck, holding onto him tightly. His hands rub up and down your back, cradling you lovingly. “I’m glad, baby. C’mon, let’s go home so you can rest.” He stands and looks at Logan, giving him a nod before turning and walking back into the portal.

This won’t be the last time a massive man will use you.

thank you for reading!

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