MY TURN!
✩ pairing: dazai x afab reader x chuuya
✩ cw: threesome, rough sex, spanking, creampies, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), fem pet names, dubcon-ish, UNGODLY amounts of cum
✩ notes: breedtober fic 1 !! this concept has been brewing in my head for a WHILE. enjoy!
✩ wc: 1.6k
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it all started with an argument, that led to a dare - one you didn’t have the pleasure of being present for or aware of.
who can get her pregnant first?
or rather,
if we both fuck her, whose sperm will take?
you had messed around with both dazai and chuuya more than once - both under the incredibly persuasive influence of chuuya’s finely aged wine, and under no influence at all. unless you count the insatiable and unbearable lust for the two men who made no effort to conceal their desires for you. but you’d never fucked them both at the same time
and this plan - it was a disgusting, vile, deplorable plan, especially under the guise of just a good, fun night. ‘let’s just pass around a bottle of chardonnay and see where the night goes,’ they had said, despite knowing exactly where the night was going to go. but fuck did it feel good.
“ch-chuuya,” you moaned, stuttering as he fucked you mercilessly from the back. one hand dug deep into the plush of your hip to pull your ass back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts, while the other slapped your ass so hard you shivered each time.
the sound of skin-on-skin filled the bedroom as he bottomed out with every thrust, burying his entire cock in you until the ginger puff of hair at the base tickled against your skin.
“yeah, darlin’? that feel good?” he smirked, picking up the pace and rewarding you with yet another harsh spank.
and you wanted to scream, wanted to cry out a yes, yes! chuuya, harder! but, you couldn’t, and dazai made sure of that by pushing your head down rather hard as you sucked him off.
having been so distracted with the way chuuya fucked you good and deep, you truthfully weren’t paying attention to dazai’s cock, and it drove him to a level of anger and possessiveness, almost jealousy, he can’t remember the last time he felt. and he normally wasn’t a head pusher - he really wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to lose to chuuya.
you had only been indulging in occasional kitten licks and sucking on dazai’s angry red tip, as every time you tried to venture farther, chuuya seemed to angle his hips differently or spank you hard to pull your attention back to him, and dazai could not and would not have that.
saliva and precum poured off your bottom lip as dazai fucked your throat in time with chuuya’s thrusts. you choked and gagged as he gripped your hair and thrust up into your mouth, grunting wildly as your throat tightened and spasmed around his aching length.
“you have no fucking clue how sexy you look right now, doll, swallowing my cock, taking it so fucking good,” dazai smirked, tightening his grip on your hair. chuuya rolled his eyes.
dark streaks of mascara stained your cheeks from your tears, a sight that only drove dazai even madder, and one chuuya was getting more and more jealous of. but he knows there was no reason to - not yet, at least. he had the center stage, the spotlight on him as a hand snaked down underneath you to massage your throbbing, neglected clit as he fucked you hard and deep. and his cum was what was going to fill your cunt first, allowing him to succeed in their fucked up little dare - he was more than sure of it. just the thought of it, alongside the way you clenched deliciously around his length, was pushing him over the edge.
“shit, baby, gonna cum,” chuuya muttered right into your ear as he draped his chest over your back, kissing up your neck. “want me to fill up your pussy? breed you like a bitch in heat?” he was going to regardless of your answer. dazai scoffed, but chuuya ignored him easily.
you likely would’ve protested, and indeed had the thought to instruct chuuya to pull out, but your mouth was too busy for you to do anything but gasp as thick ropes painted the walls of your cunt a milky white. he made sure to press his cock in all the way inside you and tilt your hips down, the tip brushing against your cervix, to ensure his cum seeped right into your ready and waiting womb. and you couldn’t be mad about it - not when he continued to whisper dirty, filthy words into your ear as he played with your clit.
“my turn,” dazai smirks, tugging at your hair to prompt you to pull off his still aching hard-on. you finish up with a long lick on the underside of his cock along the pulsing vein, smiling up at him as you breathe heavily.
truthfully, your pussy already felt too used and abused from chuuya, but you were starting to ache for dazai too. luckily, the man was happy to oblige.
chuuya begrudgingly pulled out to allow dazai to take his turn, regretting not just beating his ass and taking you for himself, filling you with his cum and his cum only.
repositioning you to lay you down on your back, dazai smiled at you, playing up his irresistible charm before leaning in to press a long kiss to your lips. “gonna make you all fucking mine, pretty girl,” he smirks, voice low and gravely. “make you beg for my cum this time, yeah?”
you could only whine in response, yearning for him - at this point you had no fucking clue who you wanted more, but it had stopped mattering. when they both were treating you like this.
“hurry it up, dumbass,” chuuya muttered, arms crossed as he sat on the edge of the bed. he had an idea for what he wanted to do with you as dazai took his turn, but he couldn’t get to it with dazai yammering in your ear like that.
“don’t worry, doll,” dazai sighed, caressing your cheek. “he’s just jealous.”
“the fuck i am,” chuuya gripes, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“just fuck me, dazai, please,” you whined, gripping his bandaged arms. and there’s no way he could say no to that.
spreading your legs wide, he lined up his cock before sinking into you easily, already stretched and prepped from your previous round. it was a conscious choice not to acknowledge how he was using chuuya’s cum as lube.
having already been picturing this moment since they dragged you into bed, dazai built up a pace fast, and you curled your legs around his waist to ground yourself as he jostled you around.
“so fucking tight, baby,” he gasped, gripping your waist. “i know you wanna take my cum so fucking bad, fill your pussy ‘til it can’t hold any more.” he was nearly babbling to himself at that point, mind reeling with how good you felt.
“shut it, shithead,” chuuya hissed, deciding it was his time to join in. he’d never, ever admit it, but he was getting impossibly turned on watching dazai fuck you senseless, and his dick was already chubbing up at the sight. and the way you moaned and screwed your face tight, shit.
climbing over you, chuuya placed his knees on either side of your head to hover over you, his heavy cock right in front of your face.
“y’re gonna take it just like this, darlin’,” he smirked gripping his length and prodding at your lips with the tip. it was a bit like trying to hit a moving target with how hard dazai was fucking you, but chuuya didn’t give a shit. he just needed to feel your mouth.
despite your poor throat already feeling bruised and sore, you opened up willingly, digging your fingers into his toned thighs in a feeble attempt to stabilize yourself. dazai only glared as chuuya lowered himself further to allow you to suck in his cock, wishing he had chosen that position himself. he chose not to let chuuya get to him though, just pushed your thighs further apart to allow better access.
“that’s right, baby, take it all in,” chuuya coaxed as you choked on his girth but persevered anyway. his thighs burned a bit due to the unnatural squatting position, but he couldn’t care less - he was already embarrassingly close to cumming down your throat.
dazai loathed the fact that you weren’t paying much attention to him at all, deciding to spit on his fingers and rub quick circles around your clit, making you gasp and moan around chuuya’s cock.
“feel good?” he smirked, massaging it in time with his thrusts.
you desperately wanted to respond, encourage the man touching your sweet spot, but chuuya commanded all your attention as he started to fuck your throat.
and in the same way chuuya couldn’t help but be turned on by dazai’s cock driving you mad, dazai was nearing his high hearing how you gagged and gurgled on chuuya’s length. the warning of his oncoming orgasm just barely left his lips before he was groaning and stuffing you with his seed this time. the tight clamp of your thighs around his waist tightened and your toes curled as you felt the hot cum leak out of you while his fingers pulled you closer to your own high.
you had never felt so full in your life - dazai’s cock still buried in your cunt alongside two heavy loads of cum, and chuuya’s cock stuffing your mouth, alongside his hot cum sliding down your throat.
the two men eyed each other knowingly as they wiped your spent body clean, washing away all the splattered cum minus the loads that seeped out of you - and maybe dazai even used two fingers to push it in a little deeper.
both incredibly cocky men, they were both certain it would be their seed that took - but they’d have to wait nine months and see.
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Short Days, Long Nights: 15
Joel Miller x f!reader
Rating: Explicit, teeny tiny lactation kink, Joel being real cute with a baby is it's own warning
A/N: ❤ thank you one million times over to @the-scandalorian who always give the best feedback and advice, to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who is always the most supportive and a special shout out to @mrsquill whose advice and perspective was much needed, being the big beautiful brain she is.
--
Joel picks his way through the woods, brushing aside the sprawling branches that reach out to catch his shirt. A small bundle tucked against his chest in a makeshift carrier, he’s got one hand splayed across it, protectively shielding it. His boots crunch over fallen twigs, and from within the folds of fabric, June’s dark eyes look up.
Flitting between staring at him and the contrast of the treetops as she takes in the surroundings, dapples of sunlight shift and play across her small face, light catching the swirls of her dark brown curls. When she starts squirming, Joel looks down and smiles at her.
“You ready to get up, baby girl?”
Shifting her in the wrapped sling to face his chest instead of lying down, he makes sure she’s secure before he continues, giving her his thumb to hold onto. Her tiny, chubby hand wraps halfway around it and letting her squeeze it, he strokes the soft skin on the back of her hand.
Carefully placed steps to avoid tripping on anything, his boots follow his normal hunting path, only this time he’s not hunting: he’s taking her for their daily walk.
Starting as something he’d hoped would calm her down during her early days, he’s taken to walking all over the place with her while you nap in the afternoons. Never far enough that he couldn’t get back quickly if he needed to, they’ve explored every inch of the woods surrounding the cabin. Sometimes she’s fussy, sometimes she’s still, and sometimes - like today - she’s alert and awake, lifting her head off his chest to peek at the world around her.
“You hear that, baby girl? You hear that bird singin’ to you?”
He talks to her without even realizing it, a constant, soothing murmur.
His lips brush the downy crown of her hair, dragging back and forth just to feel the tickle of softness and he presses a kiss there, turning back towards home.
Home.
He’d begun calling it that while talking out loud to her and then kept saying it, because it was true. This was his home, and hers, and yours. One that, even though summer had begun and she was now here, had become impossible to leave.
He had agreed to stay until she was born, but with every day that passed, he couldn’t bring himself to move forward with the plan. Days had slid together, weeks blurring as he helped care for her while you healed and he knew you wouldn’t be able to make the trek then, so he said nothing. Another month passed after that, and he thought about it - he really did - but couldn’t quite reconcile the concept of a potential threat with the present sense of safety. The danger that had seemed so immediate and imminent and threatening had faded into the background, giving way to the quiet routine of life, and the three of you continued on.
The map was still in the cabin, as a reminder of what was waiting out there, but so were other things:
Her, in her cradle in the corner of the room along with the pillowcase that she’s taken to sleeping with, in lieu of a baby blanket.
You, on the living room floor, your smile blinding as you stretched out next to her wriggling body in the afternoons.
Her basket on the edge of your garden: you working, her small fists stretching and flexing towards the sky, visible just over the wicker rim.
For someone who had little to no experience with it, you’d taken to motherhood like you’d done it all before. The birth, nursing, adjusting to a new sleep schedule, learning what every one of her cries meant and just how to soothe it. A seemingly deep reserve of patience held within you, your constant resourcefulness when it came to everything you had both on hand and inside yourself, he finds he loves you even more than he did before.
Constantly impressed and humbled by this new version of you emerging right in front of him, he tries to let you both know how he feels in his own, wordless ways: referring to and respecting your knowledge and guidance when it comes to planting, delicate brushes of his hand on the small of your back while you talk with him in the kitchen, stopping you while you do chores to guide your mouth to his in a kiss of appreciation. Rocking June to sleep when she wakes, washing her clothes in the river, taking her for walks.
So accustomed to thinking of his own body as a weapon, spending years using it as a means of protecting those he loves, he’s found an entirely new use for it right alongside yours: familiar, tender motions he thought were lost coming to the surface.
Emerging from the woods, the familiar slope of your land comes into view and he makes his way down to the edge of the water. His boots sink into the soft give of the sand, a trail of impressions left behind him, and he drops down to a crouch before fully sitting down. Unwinding the fabric tied around his shoulder, he gently eases June out of the carrier.
Delicate yet steady in his hold on her, he props his forearms on his knees and lifts her so they are face to face.
“How much did you sleep last night?” he asks, a deep frown settling between his brows. Dark bags show under his eyes, and she wriggles in his grip, her legs kicking.
“Felt like you didn’t sleep at all. Keepin’ us up all night with your fussin’.”
She pays no mind to the stern look on his face, the gentle tone of his words in contrast with their scolding, and his lips brush against her cheek, her mouth opening to chase his with a babbling, wet sound.
“You’re cute, baby girl, but you ain’t that cute. You gotta let us sleep.”
She lets out a soft cry, and he chuckles.
“Okay, I take it back. You are that cute.”
They look at each other for a moment, her small, dark eyes studying his larger ones and a familiar glint of hazel captures his breath for a moment, his heart seizing.
Identical to Sarah’s color, the likeness flits through them almost faster than he can catch it, though it doesn’t stop him from staring intently at June in hopes of it coming back. She blinks and looks away, her body flexing in a stretch.
“I saw you,” he says quietly, to himself.
June’s eyes come back to him at the sound of his voice, and the corner of his mouth lifts.
“I think your big sister was just sayin’ hi, pretty girl.”
Impossible to ignore since the moment she came into the world and he caught her in his hands, he saw Sarah in June all the time. Every day: sometimes in her eyes, in her expressions, in her movements. He knew June was her own being, a mixture of himself and you that he loved. His eyes, the shape of your face. His dark hair, your smile. But when he caught glimpses of Sarah in her, he immediately chased the fleeting image before he could think about how much it would hurt to see it. Another chance to see her again, at any cost.
Introducing the memory of Sarah to June as her “big sister,” a burden was lifted from his chest the day he started speaking about her. With nothing but the solitude of the woods around them and her tiny ears to hear his words, once he started, he couldn’t stop.
Years of buried memories, of guilt, of confessions and apologies as his heart ached recounting the things he’d done. All of them laid bare to June, who absorbed them with quiet fascination at the low, rumbling voice of her father. The words meaningless to her and received without the judgment of someone who would actually understand what he was saying, everything came pouring out.
Everything he’d done, everything he regretted, everything he missed.
Once those were let out into the world, he focused on the good: Sarah’s love for soccer, for animals, her stubborn streak that matched his own. Her sense of humor, her girliness, vacations they took and their time spent together.
Emerging from the depths he’d buried it under long ago, Sarah’s memory grew stronger every day and he was surprised to find that it hurt… less than it used to. Something he used to avoid due to the sheer pain that would come alongside the memories, he now seeks them out, to relive them in a new light. Basking in this second chance with her, he looks forward to seeing her in any way she appears in this life.
“You think your momma’s up yet?” he asks. “Or should we give her a little bit more time?”
He waits for an answer he knows isn’t coming, but he studies June’s face like it is, eventually answering himself with a nod.
“More time, I think. You’re right.”
Turning her to face the water, he places her in his lap and with sunlight flooding the bank, they sit and look at the water together.
–
You feel as though you could sleep forever.
Your heavy eyes blinking open, you stay in place and listen. Silence, which means they must still be out and rolling onto your side, you sink deeper under the thin quilt. Exhaustion blankets you, pulling your eyes shut.
Tired. So tired, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. He catches naps whenever he can, seemingly able to fall asleep for a moment whenever and wherever in the way older men do, but not you. Your mind is a constant whirring machine of what needs to be done next and it takes forever to turn off, but last night she was up for ages, and so when he told you to take a nap, you crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.
Your face brushing the cool cotton of his pillowcase, you bury your nose into it, inhaling. A need flickers to life inside you, slowly unfurling under the heaviness of your limbs and you wish he was lying in bed with you right now.
In the morning sometimes when she’s in her cradle, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, letting your lips catch the edge of his whiskers. When you seek out his skin, he rolls to face you with still closed eyes but finds you just the same.
Still, they are kisses that only awaken, never slake. Early morning sleep soft kisses. Warm skin under wandering hands, until she cries. Never any time to linger in the morning, you can still taste the firm press of his mouth against yours if you try hard enough and the memory of yesterday slips into your sleep-hazed mind, the edges fuzzy and soft.
“What’s this for?”, you hummed, leaning back into him.
His mouth rested on your neck, his lips molding to the slope of it. One kiss, another and his tongue slipped out, tasting your skin.
“Jus’ missed you. Thinkin’ about you.”
“Oh yea? What were you thinking about?”
He kissed your neck again, letting his mouth rest just under your ear. “ ‘Bout the other night.”
The other night: when he held his hand over your mouth and worked you with his fingers over your soaked panties until you came with a broken cry, right before kneeling next to you on the bed to watch you jerk him to completion onto your stomach. Afterwards, he smeared it around and you licked the spend from his fingers.
“That was nice,” you smiled, turning to face him. Threading your fingers through his curls, you offered your mouth to him and he took it, his own need apparent in the way it moved against yours—telling and deep.
Just the two of you for so long before June came along, it felt good to be reminded that he still wanted you like that: as a woman, instead of just a mother. The new role unfamiliar and flooded with a constant rollercoaster of shifting emotions, it was hard to navigate this version of yourself, and even harder to articulate those emotions into words. Joy like you’ve never known blended with bone weary exhaustion and pain. A fierce need to prove to yourself that you could do this, while still wanting him to take the lead. A new found self-pride laced with frustration and sadness and an ache for the way your relationship used to be.
All of these emotions, fading away to be replaced by a happiness you never thought possible whenever you looked at June.
He’s helped you navigate it all, just like he’s always helped you navigate: the group when you had one, dangerous routes when you used to take them, this new life when you made the suggestion. Jackson, should he ever bring it up again. The possibility of leaving was something you hoped every day that he’d forgotten about, but you didn’t dare bring up the subject in case he hadn’t. You weren’t ready. Not yet.
With the idea of sleeping on the hard ground making the comforting cloud of your bed hard to leave, you eventually rise and peek out the window in search of them. The broad expanse of his back sits down by the water, and you see him lift her to face him, murmuring words you can’t hear.
A delicacy to his touch and another side to his competence that you’d never have seen without her, Joel Miller the dad was someone you felt lucky to witness, but the thought of Joel Miller the man was the one that had your eyes lingering on his shoulders and the flex of his biceps under the material of his shirt.
Recalling his kiss from earlier that morning, you walk out of the room to go greet them.
–
“How old are you going to be when she’s ten?”
He groans, closing his eyes. “Christ, don’ ask me that.”
You giggle, and he peeks an eye open at you.
“Your daddy is gonna be wearin’ diapers soon,” you coo down at June, and he’s quick with his reply.
“Who says I don’t already?”
Your playful giggle turns into a full laugh.
“Smart-ass,” he grumbles, a good natured grin at the edge of his lips.
He leans back into the worn couch, letting his head tilt to the side as he watches the two of you on the floor in front of him. The days getting longer with the time of year, evening sunlight streams in through the windows you washed earlier that day and its rays fill the room with enough light to see. The windows open, a breeze flows through.
Rolling from your side onto your stomach, his gaze drifts from the curve of your cheek to the small round of your shoulder, to the wide open expression of pure contentment and love on your face as you coo a soothing murmur of nonsense down at June. She eats it up, her limbs kicking in jerky, excited movements in her splay on her back and she is transfixed by your face, alert and focused.
Filled with gratitude, he’s silent for a moment as he just…watches.
Your finger dangles over June’s grasping hand until she takes it and wiggling it with a smile and a tease, you take it from her and dance your fingers down her belly, tickling. Her tiny body kicks in response, never ceasing in its movement.
An overlay of his shitty QZ apartment blankets the room, and he immediately rejects the image, knowing you don’t belong there. The concrete he's slept on and the endless things he’s done to survive flood his mind and a simultaneous reaction wars within him: guilt, at the idea he doesn’t deserve this life after everything he’s done, and the answering fierce urge to defend it, making sure no one ever takes it away from him.
“You thinking about it?”
Your question drags him to the present, and he frowns.
“Leaving,” you clarify. You look down, your expression turning solemn. “You were quiet for a while,” you say quietly. “I thought maybe you finally remembered.”
Reading the tone in which you deliver your hesitant statement as dreading something inevitable, he’s honest in his reply in hopes to soothe you.
“No,” he says. “I actually haven’t thought about it in awhile. Not seriously, anyway.”
Your eyes lift to meet his and the hope you’re trying to conceal in your expression almost breaks him.
“You were right,” he continues. “We got the garden up and runnin’, got everything all setup like we like. Got a safe place for her.” His chin tilts towards June, her fists flailing in exploration until you catch one in your hold.
“And if someone comes?” you broach hesitantly.
His jaw shifts, his eyes drifting down to June. “If someone comes, I’ll deal with ‘em.”
He will.
There is a finality in his tone, even if he isn’t sure it’s a promise he can make, but it feels right saying out loud. You belong here, she belongs here and he can’t let anyone take that away, not even himself.
You say nothing, searching for the truth on his face and when you find it, the edge of your mouth lifts in disbelief.
“Joel Miller, the optimist,” you tease.
Because of you, he immediately thinks. Instead, he teases right back.
“What, you think I can’t?”
You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. Your playful expression faltering after a moment, your attention shifts to June and a telltale trembling of your lip catches his eye as you avoid his gaze. Knowing you’re purposefully not looking at him because you’re self conscious about how easy it is to make you cry after June’s birth, he leans forward and drops down to join you on the floor.
“Hey,” he says softly, crawling over and reaching out over her body to grasp your chin. “Hey now.”
You let him guide your face to his, and he sees he's right. A tear rolls smoothly down your cheek and his frown softens with his voice.
“I would never let anything happen to you, honey. Either of you.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” you start, your breath shuddering. You swallow and then surprise him with a watery laugh. “I’m not – I’m not scared of that. I’m just –” you sniffle again, blinking free another tear. “I’m just so happy.”
A sob breaks free on the last word and the contrast of your statement with your reaction makes him laugh, which in turn makes you laugh through another sob. Then, a new sound blends into it from beneath the two of you, one that makes you both stop.
“Did she just –” your breathing hitches, and you look from her to him. “Did she just laugh?”
The first time it’s ever happened, she does it again when you laugh in astonished, watery joy and it only makes you sob harder, tucking your face into the crook of your elbow.
“She’s laughin’ at you,” he chuckles, splaying his hand wide over her belly, grinning down at her with deep dimples.
Taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes on your sleeve, you smile down at June.
“Your daddy is gonna let us stay,” you say to her, your voice thick with tears and joy as you sniff again.
“Only ‘cause your momma has made us such a good home.”
Teasing words covering true, deep emotions, he looks at you and with tears still clinging to your wet lashes, he thinks you might be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. So much love shines through your gaze that the intensity of it is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t look away. He meets it, unwavering.
“Joel,” you start, slipping your hand over his where it still rests on her belly, covering it with a squeeze. “If you ever want to go, I’ll go. I’d follow you wherever. Here, Jackson, somewhere else. Anywhere else. I trust you.”
Not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, he just lifts the corner of his mouth and nods before bending his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand.
A silent devotional action, to the one who has given him everything.
Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you go back to trying to make June laugh and he watches the two of you from his place on the floor, stretched out alongside you.
How could he leave?
—
Attempting to summon the courage while tugging at the silken fabric to make sure it covers all the parts of yourself that you are unsure of, you stare at your reflection in the mirror; his low singing voice coming from June’s room.
All day, you’ve secretly ached for him.
A fire ignited every time you saw him with her: holding her, cradling her, one hand across her chest as she slept next to him on the couch while he read. And without: the short, dark strands of hair at the nape of his tanned neck, the little slice of skin above the waistband of his jeans that peeked out when he crouched. His thick forearms, his firm thighs.
An ache that had been present since you woke up this morning, you’ve missed the man he is: his body, his skillful touch, his masculine, solid form moving against yours. A while since she’s gone down this early, you want to take advantage of the gift of time and show him how much you’ve missed him…but there is still a slight insecurity about this changed body of yours.
Smoothing your hands over the lace that rests over your cleavage as you look some more, the soft scuff of his boots across the floor as he enters the bedroom has you immediately second guessing, quickly turning for your robe.
“She went down okay,“ he says tiredly, scrubbing his hand down his face. He tugs his shirt off with a one handed hold behind his back, kicking off his boots while unbuckling his jeans. Shucking them off to drape them over the chair in the corner, he looks up at your silence.
Frozen in front of him, your hands clutch the robe together.
“You okay?” he asks, his tired expression knit with concern.
“That was quicker than I thought.”
He huffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not complain’.”
“Neither am I, I just –” your hands fiddle with the thick material, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip. “I just wasn’t ready for you.”
Studying your face, he tilts his head up, lifting an eyebrow. “Ready for me?” His eyes drop down your body, his posture straightening with interest. “You got somethin’ under there?”
You hesitate for a moment. “Turn out the light first?”
His eyes darken at your answer and he slowly leans to the side, reaching to turn the lantern down. The room descends into a shadowed version of itself, everything bathed in dim warmth and he settles back into position, waiting.
Taking a deep breath and feeling braver in the darkness of the room, you open the robe and let it fall to the floor.
“What’s all this?” he asks, his husky drawl low and slow.
Stepping between his thighs, you take his larger hand in your smaller one and place it over your side, encouraging him to touch. He splays his fingers, searching for the heat of your skin through the thin material and gliding his hold up until his thumb drags lightly across your nipple, his eyes watch as it pebbles under the silk. Arching slightly into his touch, he takes your lead and tenderly palms the weight of your breast.
Hooded, his eyes stay fixed on his hand. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it months ago,” you reply, your tone breathy and warm from the delicate brush of his fingertips over the fabric.
He hums, letting his hand drag down your sternum with weighted exploration, curling firmly around your hip to pull you closer.
“Do you like it?”
“Do I like it?” he asks in disbelief, immediately looking up at you. He bunches the silk in his fists, pulling it tight against your body. His throat bobs, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip as his eyes make a circuit down the length of you and back up.
“My pretty girl, all dressed up for me. How could I not?”
Bending down for a kiss, you place your hands on his shoulders and the hunger in the way he presses his mouth against yours betrays every thought running through his mind. Suddenly more awake than he seemed, he can’t stop shifting his hold on you: his mouth taking and taking, while his hands touch everything he can reach.
When they get to the hem of the nighty and pull it up over your ass, he groans into your mouth when he finds nothing but bare skin underneath.
“Nothin’ underneath? You’re such a good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes against your mouth, right before capturing it again in a devouring kiss. Leaving you breathless, he follows the column of your throat with a whiskery scrape of his beard against your skin, and works his way down, his humid breath ghosting over the tops of your breasts as he gives every inch of skin he finds an open mouthed kiss.
Slipping the shoulder strap down, the fabric falls away and he takes your nipple into his mouth immediately. Letting out a low moan with a pinched frown of pleasure, his eyes close and he draws from you: his hand coming up to cradle the underside of your breast, pushing more into his mouth as he swirls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand digs into the curve of your hip, keeping you in place. Holding on, like you’re the anchor.
Your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls, and he groans. Pulling back, a glimmer of something white is smeared on his lower lip, and his tongue darts out to taste the drop of liquid.
“Takin’ care of my baby, with this perfect fuckin’ body.”
Soaked in worship, his words have you climbing onto his lap as he guides you in place and gathering you into his arms, he tugs your knee up to force you into a straddle over his thighs. Deepening his kiss with an inviting, slick slide of his tongue against yours, a low hum pours out of your throat and you grind against him, seeking the warm heft between his thighs until he shifts and rolls you onto your back, laying you out underneath him.
His humid breath consumes you, the scent of his skin filling your senses. The firm rounds of his shoulders bunch under your touch, his biceps flexing in their strain as he moves above you and his solid torso presses against yours, forcing you into the mattress. His mouth never ceases and neither does yours, every part of your bodies seeking the other out to move in a mimic of the act itself and winding your legs around his waist, he grinds himself against you until you’re whiny and restless underneath him, your cunt slick and soaked against his cotton briefs. When you start to shove them down his hips, he helps.
Tugging them down and kicking them off, his cock drags along the inside of your thigh when he lowers himself back over you.
“I need you inside me,” you moan, reaching for him. “I want it.”
“Yea? You want my cock?”
“I’ve wanted it all day. All day while I’ve watched you.”
His hand joins yours to guide him to your aching entrance, and when the thick, rounded tip of his cock starts to make room for itself, you let out simultaneous groans of relief when he slides in. A singular smooth, filling and fluid stroke, all the way to the base.
“God yes, just like that,’ you plead, and he’s quick to soothe.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, my girl. I got you. I got you.”
Your mind already lost in a haze of need, the whole-body relief you feel is intoxicating, and yet his fullness inside you is only half of what you want. You want to feel desired, like he wants you just as bad as you’ve wanted him and to feel it, you know you need his roughness. The harder edges of his lust, the ones he’s been holding back from you since you gave birth.
You want to taste desperation in his kisses, to feel it in his hold, to have him force it into the slick fist of your cunt because he just can’t help it - and you get what you want the second he starts moving.
“I can’t believe you wore this for me,” he breathes above you, his hand catching the edge of the silk to pull it down and expose both your breasts. He watches them bounce for a moment, moving with every thrust of his hips and then he bends to latch his mouth onto one, the hard suction of it making you moan. Cradling the back of his head, you push yourself into the sensation.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, and all mine. All for me. Ain’t that right?”
His hips rock against yours, the tip of his cock sliding against that deep spot that’s been aching for him all day and you push your head back into the pillow, forcing your hips up to meet every one of his downward strokes.
“God yes,” you pant. “All yours. Only yours.”
“S’fuckin right. My girl. Lookin’ this pretty just for me.”
He brings his mouth down next to your ear as his hips keep moving. “Pussy this wet, just for me.”
You nod, and fitting his face into your neck, he rewards you an open mouthed kiss laced with a groan. He sucks at your skin, his teeth dragging over your pulse and then his mouth finds yours, forcing it open just like he’s forcing you open to take everything he’s giving. Every weighted stroke, every full push inside.
You like his words, but you like this just as much: when he’s so focused on how you feel around him and underneath him that he can’t speak, and you get to swallow his harsh pants and low grunts instead.
Your thighs hitch higher around his torso, your ankles resting on his back and you can feel his muscles shift and flex under your heels, working, working, working. The intensity of your release builds, a fire that’s been banked all day finally being stoked brighter and hotter and he picks up his pace, his arm pushing underneath your back to hook his hand around your shoulder, keeping you in place beneath him. Buried under the weight of his body, you relish being used.
Still just as sensitive as when you were pregnant, fast - so fast - you feel the first ripple of your oncoming release wash over your skin.
“You’re gonna make me come,” you plead, trying to keep quiet.
“Come on, honey,” he encourages it, pressing a thick kiss just under your ear. “Lemme feel it.”
Everything tightening between your hips, a syrupy warmth fills the bowl of your pelvis until it’s too intense and overwhelming and filling — and then it bursts bright and wet, your thighs squeezing his torso as he grunts through every rough stroke that sees you through it.
“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans before kissing you. He pushes in harder, faster, pounding into the slick fist of your sated cunt.
“You want another one?” he asks, breathless and panting, the curl of a smug smile at the edge of his mouth. “Think you can do it again?”
You can’t speak, your mouth parted in a fixed shape as you focus on how he feels inside you right now and when he slips a hand underneath your tailbone to angle you just right, he focuses his strokes downward, causing you to cry out.
“Shhhh, honey. S’okay. You can take it. Gimme another one.”
His voice is lost in the fuzzy edges of your mind, the only thing coming through the soothing tone as he makes you take what he’s giving and when you start to lock up underneath him again, the smile on his face this time is more apparent than the first one. When you start to come, he looks almost proud.
Your nails dig into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper and he bends and bites the underside of your breast as he picks up his pace. His hands bunching in the sheets, he fucks you harder, faster, and when his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm, you know he’s close.
“Goddamnit,” he groans when you come around him, never stilling in his movement above you.
Frantically needing him to feel as good as he just made you feel, you dig your hold into the meat along his ribs and hold him in place above you, your hips pushing up to work against his. Matching his every stroke down with your own, his eyes shut tight against the sensation he tries not to give into.
“I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t stop,” he warns, the words a tortured groan.
Knowing you can’t do that, you move quickly underneath him, pushing your hands against his chest until he lifts just enough for you to frantically slide down the bed. His slick, stiff cock drags up your belly and along the plane of your chest, brushing against your chin right before you take it into your mouth and when you wrap your lips around it with a firm suck, the groan he lets out is loud and involuntary, his hips bucking forward.
His hand buries itself into your hair, his fist pulling painfully at the roots when he pushes himself in down to the base and you feel his belly jerk with a tremble right before he pours hot and sticky along the back of your tongue. His release is endless, filling your mouth as he stretches out rigid next to you and you swallow every single drop, your throat working as you hold him close.
Working the dregs of it out with a slow roll of his hips into your face, you finally pull off when he relaxes into the mattress with a soft groan. Peppering kisses along the tops of his thighs, you slowly ascend the body you’ve been aching for all day and his hands run lazily over your skin, making room for you to crawl into bed beside him.
“That was…somethin’,” he sighs, a slow spreading smile gracing his face when he turns his head to look at you and you prop yourself up on your elbow, running your fingers through the hair just under his navel.
Catching your hand, he brings it to his mouth with a kiss.
Laying in silence together, the sounds of the night filter in through the open window on the soft breeze that tickles your sweat damp skin. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent you’d been dreaming about all day straight from the source and your bodies slowly relax together, entwined.
When you feel his breathing even out into a slow rise and fall, you peek up at his face. Taking a moment to admire the profile of his nose, his long dark lashes, the gray gathered at his temples, you run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip in a feather light touch. In his sleep, his lips purse as they chase the sensation and you smile, the movement so like June when you do the same thing to her.
Leaning forward to give him one last kiss, you reach over him and turn out the light.
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DESCRIBING THE PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES OF CHARACTERS:
Body
descriptors; ample, athletic, barrel-chested, beefy, blocky, bony, brawny, buff, burly, chubby, chiseled, coltish, curvy, fat, fit, herculean, hulking, lanky, lean, long, long-legged, lush, medium build, muscular, narrow, overweight, plump, pot-bellied, pudgy, round, skeletal, skinny, slender, slim, stocky, strong, stout, strong, taut, toned, wide.
Eyebrows
descriptors; bushy, dark, faint, furry, long, plucked, raised, seductive, shaved, short, sleek, sparse, thin, unruly.
shape; arched, diagonal, peaked, round, s-shaped, straight.
Ears
shape; attached lobe, broad lobe, narrow, pointed, round, square, sticking-out.
Eyes
colour; albino, blue (azure, baby blue, caribbean blue, cobalt, ice blue, light blue, midnight, ocean blue, sky blue, steel blue, storm blue,) brown (amber, dark brown, chestnut, chocolate, ebony, gold, hazel, honey, light brown, mocha, pale gold, sable, sepia, teakwood, topaz, whiskey,) gray (concrete gray, marble, misty gray, raincloud, satin gray, smoky, sterling, sugar gray), green (aquamarine, emerald, evergreen, forest green, jade green, leaf green, olive, moss green, sea green, teal, vale).
descriptors; bedroom, bright, cat-like, dull, glittering, red-rimmed, sharp, small, squinty, sunken, sparkling, teary.
positioning/shape; almond, close-set, cross, deep-set, downturned, heavy-lidded, hooded, monolid, round, slanted, upturned, wide-set.
Face
descriptors; angular, cat-like, hallow, sculpted, sharp, wolfish.
shape; chubby, diamond, heart-shaped, long, narrow, oblong, oval, rectangle, round, square, thin, triangle.
Facial Hair
beard; chin curtain, classic, circle, ducktail, dutch, french fork, garibaldi, goatee, hipster, neckbeard, old dutch, spade, stubble, verdi, winter.
clean-shaven
moustache; anchor, brush, english, fu manchu, handlebar, hooked, horseshoe, imperial, lampshade, mistletoe, pencil, toothbrush, walrus.
sideburns; chin strap, mutton chops.
Hair
colour; blonde (ash blonde, golden blonde, beige, honey, platinum blonde, reddish blonde, strawberry-blonde, sunflower blonde,) brown (amber, butterscotch, caramel, champagne, cool brown, golden brown, chocolate, cinnamon, mahogany,) red (apricot, auburn, copper, ginger, titain-haired,), black (expresso, inky-black, jet black, raven, soft black) grey (charcoal gray, salt-and-pepper, silver, steel gray,), white (bleached, snow-white).
descriptors; bedhead, dull, dry, fine, full, layered, limp, messy, neat, oily, shaggy, shinny, slick, smooth, spiky, tangled, thick, thin, thinning, tousled, wispy, wild, windblown.
length; ankle length, bald, buzzed, collar length, ear length, floor length, hip length, mid-back length, neck length, shaved, shoulder length, waist length.
type; beach waves, bushy, curly, frizzy, natural, permed, puffy, ringlets, spiral, straight, thick, thin, wavy.
Hands; calloused, clammy, delicate, elegant, large, plump, rough, small, smooth, square, sturdy, strong.
Fingernails; acrylic, bitten, chipped, curved, claw-like, dirty, fake, grimy, long, manicured, painted, peeling, pointed, ragged, short, uneven.
Fingers; arthritic, cold, elegant, fat, greasy, knobby, slender, stubby.
Lips/Mouth
colour (lipstick); brown (caramel, coffee, nude, nutmeg,) pink (deep rose, fuchsia, magenta, pale peach, raspberry, rose, ) purple (black cherry, plum, violet, wine,) red (deep red, ruby.)
descriptors; chapped, cracked, dry, full, glossy, lush, narrow, pierced, scabby, small, soft, split, swollen, thin, uneven, wide, wrinkled.
shape; bottom-heavy, bow-turned, cupid’s bow, downturned, oval, pouty, rosebud, sharp, top-heavy.
Nose
descriptors; broad, broken, crooked, dainty, droopy, hooked, long, narrow, pointed, raised, round, short, strong, stubby, thin, turned-up, wide.
shape; button, flared, grecian, hawk, roman.
Skin
descriptors; blemished, bruised, chalky, clear, dewy, dimpled, dirty, dry, flaky, flawless, freckled, glowing, hairy, itchy, lined, oily, pimply, rashy, rough, sagging, satiny, scarred, scratched, smooth, splotchy, spotted, tattooed, uneven, wrinkly.
complexion; black, bronzed, brown, dark, fair, ivory, light, medium, olive, pale, peach, porcelain, rosy, tan, white.
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