PAIRING : sub!arin “pocket” fairfax (deadlock) x dom!gn!reader.
SYNOPSIS: there were certain secrets we all have, ones that we all would want to bring with us to our graves. who knew the ex-heir of fairfax industries had such a delicious secret. they didn’t want to be an heir, instead they wanted to be your cute little stay-at-home wife.
TAGS: 5.1k+ words, smut, nonbinary character (pocket is described to have a pussy w/ a t-dick), established relationship, LOTS of build up, domestic fluff, gifting flowers (reader giving), consent checks, dirty talk, safe sex (condom usage), feminization, mentions of breeding, suggested pregnancy kink, penetration sex (character receiving w/ strap or you actually having a penis), humiliation, pet names / praise w/ degradation (my love, wild one, cock sleeve, cute little/slutty/sweet wife, lover, dear, sweet thing), oral, vaginal fingering, no reader orgasm.
NOTES : | 10/31/25 | sorry for no fic updates for a while now, i’m like in the middle of my college semester and i’ve been sooo stressed. but it’s okay! i am locked in for sure now! i also turned 19 this month, so i’ve just been focusing on myself, i hope you understand. i’ve made more friends i can play deadlock with, and i have a lot more fics coming soon <3. oh and happy halloween!!
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The ascent up the stairs to your apartment complex feels long and agonizing. With every step feeling heavier than the last, your hand on the stair railing keeps you up while your face contorts in a grimace, remembering your awful work shift.
But you keep your head up high, holding the bouquet of wildflowers close to you as you’re now in front of your apartment door. You let out a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in, and the tension in your shoulders feels a bit less tense.
Work may have been stressful, but you’re not going to let it ruin your day. Instead, you let the butterflies fluttering in your stomach consume you as a shaky hand goes to unlock the front door.
It was your anniversary with Pocket, and although dating for a year now, you can still feel your heart wanting to leap out of your ribcage. Your warm, clammy hand contrasts against the cool metal doorknob as you turn it, opening the front door.
Your apartment, despite being small, is humble and cozy. Gradually, your minimalist home begins to fill with the clutter and belongings of your partner. It started with Pocket’s shoes, making a permanent home next to your own by the front door, the second toothbrush living in the cup on your bathroom sink, or the half-empty bookshelf you’ve been meaning to add more books to, now complete with Pocket’s favorite pieces of literature.
Your eyes scan across the open kitchen and living room, your eyes locking on with Pocket’s. They close the book they were reading, standing up from the armchair in excitement at your presence, running towards you as you ready your open arms to embrace them, meeting them in the middle of your shared home.
“Happy anniversary, Pocket,” you whisper into their ear, giggling to yourself when you feel Pocket’s lips against your neck.
“Happy anniversary, my love.”
After a moment, removing themself from your neck, but not pulling away, they plant a small kiss on your lips, one that you reciprocate back with a smile.
When pulling away, you note the small blush across Pocket’s cheeks as you unwrap your arms from around them.
“These are for you,” you say, bringing the bouquet close to them.
Pocket’s eyes widen, looking over the wide variety of wild flowers present in the bouquet with a grin, “They’re beautiful.”
Pocket’s decaying hand accepting the flowers, the hand that was a reminder to them of their troubled past.
“I believe they represent new beginnings,” you chime in, relishing in the way Pocket hugs the bouquet.
And as you take in the sight of Pocket standing in the open area where your kitchen and living room meet, your heart soars.
The sound of Pocket’s laughter surrounds you, “I’m glad to start this new beginning with you.”
In a home, Pocket never thought they’d have a partner who they love dearly, to live comfortably as themselves: Pocket truly is the luckiest.
In unison, you both move towards the kitchen island, as if it were practice, having performed these motions many times: with you emptying the flower vase of its old flowers and washing it clean of its contents, as Pocket begins to prep the bouquet for its new home.
“How was work, my love?” Pocket asks, trimming the ends of the flowers with a pair of scissors you passed to them.
You let out a dramatic, exasperated groan; even just the mere mention of work was terrible as you fill the vase with water, “I was debating on leaving work early all shift.”
Pocket bursts into a fit of laughter, having to pause their actions to compose themself, “That bad?”
“You have no idea,” you sigh into Pocket’s shoulder, hugging them from behind as they finish cutting the ends of all the flowers.
Gathering all the flowers by their stems, Pocket neatly displays the flowers in all their wild glory in the vase.
“They really are beautiful,” you confirm, peering at the side of Pocket’s face from their shoulder.
Pocket glances in your direction, blushing and shyly looking away once meeting your eyes. “Thank you, my love.”
You and Pocket have been dating for a year now, living together for two. Yet when you look at them, it’s like Pocket was always meant to be here.
They‘re perfect right where they are.
They are meant to sleep in late with you on weekends with your legs tangled together, meant to read countless books in the cozy reading nook of the living room, and meant to experience mundane tasks like cleaning and cooking when you are off at work with a smile of accomplishment.
Living with you, Pocket never realized just what they were missing.
Pocket will always be grateful for being found badly injured on the front steps of your apartment building. Both of you were apprehensive at first. You were unsure whether or not you should’ve invited a suspicious stranger into your home to recover, but the months spent living with Pocket have been the best. Your apartment didn’t feel as lonely anymore.
When Pocket’s health returned, it was difficult for them to admit that they enjoyed your company and presence while they were resting, especially after the attempted assassination. It’s been difficult for Pocket to trust and be honest with others.
But with your calming voice comforting Pocket through their restless nights, as the pain made it hard for them to sleep, reading aloud the books you had bought them would always soothe them. A type of attention and care they haven’t had since they were young that warmed their heart.
It was lovely to feel that sense of familiarity.
Pocket also really liked it when it was your day off work and you spent those days with them. The day would start with Pocket sitting at the kitchen island while you cooked, listing all the ingredients and walking them through each step, their eyes holding a certain charm of curiosity.
Or when it was time to bathe, you would always help Pocket with brushing and drying their hair. They even liked it when you would wash their back and hair for them, even if they were a bit shy to accept your offer.
You never gave Pocket a reason to have any distrust in you. You are kind and caring because you can be, and Pocket will always admire and grow to adore you for that as they continue to live with you.
Spending all this time with you felt so intimate and personal. Pocket wasn’t sure if they’d ever experience anything like this again, and you weren’t sure either.
You haven’t laughed and smiled like this in a long time.
So just as Pocket was about to step out of your front door, nourished and healthier than they’ve been in years, you asked them to stay.
And without thinking about it, Pocket accepted your offer.
The past year was full of moments of being vulnerable with one another, Pocket opening up to you about their dad and the briefcase they’ve been protecting, and the horrors of what it was like living out on the streets in constant fear.
That night, you promised Pocket that you’d do your best in your power to make them feel safe. You didn’t know it then, but Pocket knew that the walls they’ve built up ever since the day their life flashed before their eyes were coming down, thanks to you.
Looking back on it, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly when you both started falling for each other. Everything was so natural, gradual. When did the line that separated you both from being roommates to lovers suddenly erase?
It was true, Pocket and you cared for one another since the very beginning. Touches that lingered were normal, smiles that made your and Pocket’s cheeks hurt were normal, and sitting close to one another on the couch during movie nights was normal.
You think to yourself, setting the table as Pocket prepares the food onto the plates they made for both of your romantic dinners.
It could be the time you came home from work, completely exhausted from your tiring shift. All you wanted to do was collapse into your bed and cry into your pillows; overtime was not fun. Stressed from work, and even more stressed considering you had all the chores you needed to get done before you could prioritize yourself.
When you open the front door, you’re greeted with a spotless apartment with dinner already made, Pocket waiting for you at the table with a propped-up book they had been reading from.
“You seemed like you were in a rush this morning,” Pocket casually mentions, closing their book, “So I decided to take care of your chores for you.”
“Thank you, Pocket,” you say, voice wavering as you stumble into their arms, shoes still on, dropping your bag onto the floor, as tears blurred your vision.
“Of course,” they comfort you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and kissing your cheek.
Pocket pulls away from you, apologizing, “I didn’t mean to-”
“Can you do that again?” You asked.
Pocket chuckles, wiping the tears that streamed down your cheeks with their thumb, “Of course.”
Closing your eyes, you felt their warm lips across your cheeks once more.
Someone was taking care of you for once. Not because they owed you, or needed something from you, but because they wanted to. Pocket noticed something was wrong and picked you back up when they saw you were slipping.
Just because.
Instinctively, you reach up to touch your own cheek as you reminisce about the moment, smiling to yourself.
“What’s got you smiling?” Pocket asks, drying their hands after washing them.
“Thinking about your kisses,” you laughed to yourself, now embarrassingly rubbing the back of your neck.
Pocket smiles, setting the plates at the table as they walk back around to kiss your cheek. Before Pocket could slip from your grasp, you pull them back into your embrace, pressing your lips gently to theirs, savoring their taste as their lips moved in sync with yours.
Pulling away with a shared sigh, both staring at one another lovingly for a moment, and for this moment, you have to lose yourself in Pocket’s eyes before you break the silence, “Perhaps we should eat now before our food gets cold.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Pocket agrees, planting one last kiss onto your lips as you pull out their chair, helping them sit down.
You sit across from Pocket, mouth already watering at the sight and smell of the home-cooked meal. The meal was clearly made with a surplus of love and care, as the flavor of spices burst immediately across your taste buds after just one bite.
The setting felt romantic and moody, the bulbs of the kitchen light imitating golden hour, painting the two of you perfectly.
Being able to catch up throughout a delicious meal will always be one of the best ways to spend quality time with Pocket.
“So, what was the book that you were reading earlier?” You casually asked.
Pocket’s eyes widen, their speech interrupted by a fit of coughs from your inquiry, having to take several gulps of their glass of water to compose themself.
“Oh yeah, I picked it up from the bookstore a while ago,” they try to mention with the same casualness, wiping their mouth with a handkerchief.
You would’ve left it at that if you hadn’t noticed the small blush dusting their cheeks, or the distant look in their eyes. You could tell Pocket is lost in thought.
Taking another bite of your meal, you decide to tease them a bit, “What was it about?”
Pocket bites the bottom of their lip, going silent as they try to think of how to respond to you.
Shifting in their seat, they finally reply, “It’s a romance book, I believe?”
“You’re not sure?” You teased, acknowledging the way their sentence sounded unsure.
Pocket feels their body heat up, the look in your eyes making them want to shrink in their seat; why did you have to look so good?
The buttons on your work shirt were unbuttoned halfway, giving Pocket an enchanting view of your chest, with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, showcasing your forearms. Meanwhile, your hair, although no longer in its perfect style, remained sexy in a laid-back fashion.
Pocket blinked to themself, snapping out of their daydream after you had been calling out their name, hoping their arousal wasn’t too noticeable.
Pocket crosses their legs, shivering from the small friction of pleasure.
“It was pretty romantic, I’d like to think,” Pocket starts, grinning to themself as a finger circles the rim of the glass cup, “Romantic, yes, but it was also very lewd.”
“Yeah?” You asked, leaning back into the chair, eyes darkened over with desire, “Why don’t you come here and tell me more?”
The legs of the chair scrape against the wooden floors as it's pushed out, Pocket excitedly rushing over to sit themselves atop your thigh, their arms instinctively wrapping around your neck.
Pocket sighs, their eyebrows scrunch together as they feel your hand begin to stroke their clothed thigh, so close to where they need you.
“From what I read, it was pretty good,” Pocket begins to describe, melting in your grasp, “It made me want to try something new with you.”
“Enlighten me, wild one.”
Pocket whines, feeling you rub over their crotch from the outside of their pants as you begin to plant kisses on the side of their neck.
Pocket whispers into your ear, causing your eyes to widen, heat creeping up to your own cheeks. Not wanting to wait any longer, you bring Pocket to your shared bedroom, laying them gently on the soft mattress.
“So, let me get this right,“ you begin, Pocket hanging onto your every word as you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “You said you wanted me to fuck you like I was breeding you?”
Pocket gulps, sitting up, and allowing you to guide their cold hands to your chest, the warmth of your skin igniting their fingertips like magic.
“Just like the characters in my book, please.”
You chuckle to yourself, rubbing at Pocket’s forearms until you grab their wrists, pulling them close until their body is flush with yours, “Your wish is my command.”
Your lips meet Pocket’s in a passionate kiss as you help them undress. You pull away from the kiss to pull their sweater vest off, your lips instantly latching back to theirs once the clothing item is discarded across the bedroom floor.
Like muscle memory, your hands expertly untie Pocket’s tie, letting it fall as you unbutton their button-up. Pocket’s arms are wrapped around your torso through your open button-up shirt, the heat from your body radiating off them.
Your tongue slides across theirs, desperately kissing them as if you both have been starved and deprived. In a sense, you both were. Pocket had only gotten through the day yearning for your return home, dinner awaiting you that would have to be eaten as leftovers. Meanwhile, you had only gotten through the day because of Pocket being at the forefront of your mind.
Pocket’s tongue is slick against yours; the taste of the previous dinner remains, but you didn’t care as you suckled on the warm muscle, your hand moving down to grope their ass.
Pocket whines against your lips, heart pounding in their ears as they feel themself subconsciously grinding against you.
Anything to relieve the need they had between their legs.
They will always adore this overwhelming feeling when their body acts on its own, seeking out whatever pleasure it can find.
You pull away from the kiss, breathless as you stare down at Pocket, who is also panting. You stripped yourself of your button-up, feeling much more comfortable now that the fabric was off your body. Turning to Pocket, you help them remove their arms from the sleeves of their shirt, setting aside the garment as you gently hold their hands.
Their eyebrows furrow at the sight of the purple skin of their decaying arm as opposed to their other untouched arm.
You bring their hands closer to you, kissing the delicate skin, “You’re beautiful, Pocket.”
Their expression instantly softens, basking in the affection in your eyes.
“You’ve been through a lot, and tonight I will be sure to take such good care of you,” you plant another kiss on their knuckles, “because you deserve it.”
Flustered, Pocket looks away with a big grin, “Gosh, you’re such a mush.”
“I get it, I get it,” you teased, putting your hands up in fake surrender, “you just want me to get to stuffing your pretty hole.”
Pocket whimpers from your vulgar language, tilting their head to the side and allowing you access to kiss their neck: starting from behind their ear until you finally trail the kisses to the space between their neck and shoulder.
Pulling your face out from Pocket’s neck, you whisper into their ear, “My partner just wants to be bred like a cute little housewife, yeah?”
Pocket hums in response, covering their mouth with the back of their hand, their other hand resting atop your hand that is rubbing their crotch from the outside of their trousers.
Pocket’s head felt like it was spinning; they couldn’t believe you agreed so enthusiastically to their idea. You can’t believe it either. When living with someone, you inevitably learn a great deal about each other, especially in two years.
But even some skeletons in the closets can go unseen if you aren’t told about them.
Always a fantasy Pocket kept pushed down, down the garbage disposal as they prepared dinner. Even in the back of their mind, they wished you would come home and take them over the kitchen counter as they adorned nothing but a pinky and frilly apron.
Frustratingly, Pocket pushes your hand away from their crotch so they can quickly remove their pants and underwear, now completely bare.
“Impatient are we?” You ask, chuckling to yourself as Pocket lets out a huff.
“You have no idea,” they confirm, guiding your hand to their folds.
Swiping your two fingers up their folds, your fingers immediately coating in their slick, “ Oh, you poor thing, if I had known you were this needy, I would’ve made sure you were stuffed every day.”
Pocket moans when they feel you begin to rub their t-dick, spreading their essence around as you start to nip at the side of their neck.
“Please,” they beg, lying across the fortress of pillows and blankets that make up your shared bed as you suck and kiss at the side of their neck.
Leaving one last kiss on their neck, you coo into their ear, “Looks like I’ll have to make up for lost time.”
Lowering yourself so your face is right in front of their cunt, you plant a small kiss on their t-dick before licking up the muscle. Your tongue flicks back and forth against the bundle of nerves before your lips pucker and slurp around it, your arms clutching around Pocket’s thighs as they drape around your shoulders.
Pocket stares down lovingly at you through half-lidded eyes, their hand resting atop your head as the other grips the sheets of the bed. You work your tongue, applying just the right suction in a way that Pocket has always liked. Your tongue memorizes every nook and crevice as you wet their clit and cunt with your spit.
One hand reaches out to press against Pocket’s stomach as your other hand strokes up their slit. Your fingers delve between their folds, rubbing their cunt until you let one finger slip inside them.
A whimper slips past Pocket’s glossy lips, wanting to bury their face in the pillows, their cunt tightly wrapped around your finger.
With your other hand rubbing at their stomach, you lift your head off their cunt as you regain your breath, “You would look so pretty with your belly all round and full.”
You both know that will never happen, yet some fantasies can still be enjoyable to think about and indulge in.
Pocket moans, cunt fluttering around your finger as you start to thrust them in and out of them, their pussy practically gushing around just one finger as your mouth continues to pleasure their t-dick.
“Please,” they mewl through gritted teeth, eyebrows furrowed, the pleasure sneaking right up their back.
You chuckle to yourself, the sound vibrating around Pocket’s clit, “Did that turn you on, my precious wife?”
Slipping another finger into Pocket’s cunt, curling them until you hit that sweet spot that always made them roll their eyes back in pleasure.
“I can feel you tightening around my fingers,” you comment, your fingers continuing their teasing ministrations as Pocket’s wetness begins to soak into the sheets.
Pocket whimpers, the slurping around their t-dick, the relentless pace of your fingers making their legs twitch, as an electrifying feeling creeps up their spine.
Lost in all of the pleasure, a knot creates itself in the pit of their stomach.
Pocket is putty in your hands, shaping them with your skillful mouth and fingers, inching them closer and closer to their release.
They attempt to push your head off their clit, afraid of reaching their orgasm too quickly. But they can’t help it, you know exactly what buttons to push to have their toes curl, their back arching off the mattress, and their hands gripping the bed sheets.
“Please,” Pocket begs, hips subconsciously bucking to meet the thrusts of your fingers, “I’m so close.”
You shoot them a wicked grin, “Go ahead, cum for me like a good, slutty wife.”
All Pocket can see is white, letting themself get overwhelmed by the pure bliss of their orgasm. And like a dam that has burst, Pocket moans loudly as their cunt flutters around your fingers, squirting into the palm of your hand, soaking your hand completely.
“There we go!” You exclaimed, continuously thrusting your fingers inside their cunt, encouraging Pocket to ride out their orgasm.
Pocket whimpers from the sensitivity, legs twitching as you slowly withdraw your fingers. The sound of Pocket catching their breath fills the room, giving them a small kiss to the side of their temple, telling them you’ll be right back.
Your figure discreetly slips out of the room, only for you to quickly come back with a glass of water. With Pocket finally catching their breath, they chug down the water until it is all gone, as you tuck some of the hair that fell into their face out of the way.
“You did amazing, Pocket,” you reassure, caressing their cheek as they lean into the warmth of your hand.
“Thank you,” Pocket says, grinning up at you as they set the empty glass on the nightstand.
“Do you think you have enough energy to keep going, my love?” You ask, holding Pocket’s chin, stroking their bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.
“I should,” Pocket answers, beginning to paw at your bottoms, wanting you to undress completely.
“Perfect,” you comment, “care to help me out?”
Pocket nods, getting up from the bed to go to the nearby closet to return with [a condom packet and lube./a condom packet, lube, and a strap-on]. Setting the contents on the bed, Pocket gets down on their knees and slips off your bottoms along with your underwear.
They help you slip the condom onto your [cock/strap-on], applying lube to it in preparation.
Pocket lies back onto the bed, spreading their legs eagerly. Their head is crowned by the pillows, looking like a monarch as their fingers spread their pussy lips apart.
“You ready, lover?” You ask, guiding the tip of your [cock/strap] up their folds, smearing their slick around, “Ready for me to fill your pretty cunt?”
Pocket feels a shudder crawl up their spine, their arm wrapping around you and ushering you closer, their decaying arm leaving a cool sensation across your back.
“I’ve never been more ready,” Pocket sighs dreamily.
Slowly pushing your [cock/strap] into Pocket’s cunt, easing the length into them with a shared exasperated groan. You both look down, watching the length disappear into them, a sight that never gets old.
You don’t move, letting Pocket adjust to the sudden thickness, peppering their neck and face with kisses, distracting them from any discomfort. From underneath you, you feel Pocket begin to shift, grinding their hips against yours, signaling their need.
You chuckle, pressing one last kiss over Pocket’s lips as your hands grip the underside of their thighs, “I got it, I got it.”
“So needy,” you tease, kissing the side of their leg, slowly moving your hips back, “I’ve got you, dear.”
Thrusting your [cock/strap] back into Pocket, that electric pleasure coursing through their body as the tip of your [cock/strap] kisses their G-spot. Pocket’s moans are immediate, their walls wrapped lovingly around the girth.
Pocket’s eyes practically roll back, their desire in the form of drool seeping from the corners of their lips, “I love being stuffed with your cock.”
“Oh. I know,” you coo, your thrusts slow and deliberate, making sure Pocket feels the whole length and thickness of your [cock/strap-on], “it feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Mhmm,” Pocket hums, mind going numb from the euphoria, “it feels amazing.”
“So amazing, you want to just live on my cock forever, yeah?” You asked, the condescension in your question building up the pleasure you both are feeling.
Their body flashes hot, every syllable ringing in their ears as the pace of your thrusts becomes rhythmic.
Pocket whimpers, too embarrassed to respond to you, slick leaking from their poor cunt as it throbs around your [cock/strap-on].
Rocking your hips into Pocket, one of your hands detaches from their thigh to rub smooth circles on their stomach.
“You’ve been such a hardworking, stay-at-home wife,” you remark, the hand that was caressing their stomach trailing down until your fingers reach their t-dick, rubbing the bundle of nerves, “let me make all your thoughts disappear.”
Pocket’s eyes are half-lidded; they swear they’re seeing stars with the added pleasure of you jerking off their t-dick, with the grinding of your hips that Pocket can just get addicted to: the mixture of pleasure that wraps around them like a blanket.
You’re taking such good care of them.
Pocket twitches in your hold, your body overpowering them in every way, feeling safe to hand themself over to you willingly.
Because Pocket trusts you.
“Let me make you forget everything but my name,” you whisper into Pocket's ear, leaning in close and licking up the shell of their ear.
The walls of Pocket’s cunt tighten around your [cock/strap-on], their arms and legs wrapping themselves around your figure, never wanting to let you go.
This slight change in position makes Pocket feel your [cock/strap] deeper. Their breathing picks up as the speed of your thrusts starts to increase, generously rubbing their t-dick in unison.
“Fuck, [Name],” Pocket whines, soft brown eyes pleading with you, “I’m close again..”
You rest your forehead against Pocket’s, their skin warm and slightly damp with sweat, “Yeah? You wanna cum again, sweet thing?”
Pocket’s back arches off the mattress, their slick practically seeping into the sheets, their grip on you like iron, “Please.”
You chuckle in response, biting into your bottom lip as you thrust faster into their weeping cunt.
Pocket is just too precious.
Butterflies swarm your stomach as you start to pant, doing your best to retain the rhythm of your thrusts. Watching Pocket’s cute reaction is just so amusing; you can’t deny how much it is turning you on.
“Cum for me then, my sweet wife,” you groan, “and don’t hold back.”
At this point, the only thing leaving Pocket’s lips is incoherent pleas, moaning loudly between breaths as you lift their legs over your shoulders, your [cock/strap] burying deeper into Pocket’s precious cunt. The sweet pace you had at the beginning is gone; instead, it’s replaced with the unforgiving and relentless pounding. The sound of their wet cunt taking all of your [cock/strap-on], the headboard hitting the thin walls of your apartment, as the mixture of your shared moans harmonizes throughout the room.
Whether it is the neighbors or the whole world, you’re going to make sure they know just how much you love and cherish Pocket.
Bucking your hips, your skin rubbing against one another as Pocket’s eyes wander between their legs to where you’re both connected, watching the way your [cock/strap-on] rams into their cunt, making their mind go dizzy at the sight, a coil in their stomach starts to form.
It was intense, and Pocket was struggling to breathe.
Pocket’s eyes are far away, their clit puffy and swollen from all the teasing, their essence dripping down from your [cock/strap].
Pocket won’t last long.
You feel Pocket’s legs begin to shake, signaling to you that they’re about to cum. You capture their lips in a heated kiss, muffling their loud moans, as the tight knot in the pit of their stomach tangles and tightens until it is finally released.
And with a full body quiver, Pocket’s cunt clenches tightly around your [cock/strap-on], their juices spilling onto you and soaking the sheets. Making a mess of the sheets that you’d both clean up later, as you savor the taste of their lips.
Your hips continue to slowly grind against Pocket, riding out their orgasm until you both pull away from the kiss, breathless.
“You did amazing, sweetheart,” you praise, caressing their cheek, “I’m so proud of you.”
Pocket chuckles, leaning into the warmth, still a little out of breath, “I love you,” they murmur into your palm, and kiss the flesh.
“I love you, too,” you reciprocate back, kissing their forehead, their temple, their cheek, their nose, until you reach their lips.
Pulling away, you hold onto Pocket, rolling over until they’re on top of you.
‘Whoa!” They exclaim, laughing to themself as they lay their head down onto your chest, listening to your heartbeat.
You share a moment of silence, rubbing their back as you bask in each other’s warmth, as their walls still lovingly wrap around your [cock/strap].
“Happy anniversary, Pocket,” you softly whisper.
“Happy anniversary, my lover,” Pocket responds, grinding themselves back onto your [cock/strap-on].
Your hands instinctively cup Pocket’s ass cheeks, eyes wide in shock.
“You never got to cum, right? Want to go for another round?” They ask.
You chuckle down at them, squeezing the flesh of their ass, “Pocket?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever ask me that question and I say no, shoot me.”
© luvvforlife ✧.* arin "pocket" fairfax belongs to valve from the game “deadlock” that is still currently in its play test as i’m writing this. the reader belongs to you, and the story belongs to me, aigis.