“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.”
So at first I kinda felt like I phoned in the yellow Luminous fabric choices and it wasn’t nearly as good as it could have been. I revised my opinion after completing it because the sunflower quilting really made that thing shine.
Anyway, I did decided to give it a do-over, and make it dramatic this time!
Black in the center to yellow on the outside. I’m curious to how it’ll look with the shades inverse.
Warnings: This will include dark elements such as noncon and power imbalance. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: John Walker, single mom reader
Summary: a break-in becomes more than that.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋
Tristan is asleep but you're uneasy. You hover outside his room. The bassinet is set up but nothing else.
As you mash your hands together, you hear John on the stairs. You turn to him as he wipes the sweat away from his forehead. He cracks his neck as he turns his sights on you.
"What'd I say?" He drawls as he steps up on the landing.
"I know--" you stop and wet your lips. You tug at the knot of the robe belt. You let it fall open and look down, staring at the railing that overlooks the entryway. "I listened. Just... Keeping an eye on our son."
He marches up to you and sighs. You wince as he scoops your tits up in his hands. He presses his thumbs into the buds of your nipples and purrs. He clucks.
"Why can't you look at me?" He slithers.
You flinch and push your shoulders up. The robe slips further and you catch it on your elbows. Your eyes sting and you make yourself look at him.
"I'm sorry, I..." Your hands flutter instinctively over your stretch marks. "I know I... don't look like other women--"
"You look like a mother. I'm not looking for other women." He snarls. "I'm looking at you." He kneads your tits and steps closer. "I'm looking and I like what I see."
You nod. Despite everything, the fear, the helplessness, it's nice to feel wanted. He would never call you beautiful but you think it's close enough. Or as much as you'll get.
"You don't believe me? Go on. Touch me."
"I-- I do. I'm not--"
"Put your fucking hand on my dick." He snaps.
You bat your lashes and obey. You press your hand to the front of his pants. He's hard. He groans as you touch him.
"Been like that for a damn while. Just at the thought..." His voice trails off and he lets go of your chest. He peers down his body as he watches your hand on his. "Take that off. Go. Get on your back."
He points sharply past you. You back up and slip the robe off completely. You turn and carry it into the open bedroom. The monitor is set up on the window ledge. The bed is the only thing ready. Of course.
You put the rob aside and approach the bed. You focus on his simple command. On your back.
"Up. Higher." He directs you.
You push yourself to the middle of the bed. He stands at the foot and strips off his tee shirt. He hums and clucks.
"Bend your legs. Open. I wanna see your pussy." He demands.
You hesitate. You lift your head and look at him again.
"John, it's..."
"I've seen one before, so do it." He snips.
You drop your head and close your eyes. You keep your legs together as you bend them. You take a deep breath. Slowly, you push your knees apart, dragging your feet across the blanket.
The cool air tickles up your cunt. He's been inside you but not from this angle. Not from where he can see... Everything.
He hums. "Play with yourself."
You gulp. You're ready for him but not for that. Your hand twitches and you shudder.
You reach down and feel around your pelvis. You fidget as your fingers delve between your lips. You dip down and drag them back up. You haven't tried that since before Tristan. You put on some cream to help heal but nothing like this.
"Keep going." He looms at the end of the bed. His presence drapes over you as you keep your eyes sealed shut.
You flick your fingers, then swirl them. It's like you're fingering it all out for the first time again. Your thighs quiver as you hit a special spot. You squeak.
"That's it, baby. You get ready for your man." He taunts.
You hear his jeans fall to the floor. Your breath catches and your fingers glide easier. It's working. A little.
The bed shifts with his weight. He growls as he gets closer. You tense.
He trails his fingertips up your calves and grips your knees. He moves closer, planting himself between your bent knees.
"Look at me." He repeats.
You do.
"My turn. Touch me." He orders.
You snatch your hand away from your cunt. You push yourself up on your elbow then reach down again. You curl your shoulders as you grab him. He grunts as you wrap your hand around his tip.
"Shit." He hisses. "Fuck. I like your hands. I like..." His eyes rove all of you. "You're pussy. Your tits." He hooks his arms under your knees and drags your closer. "I like all of you."
He slings your legs over his thighs. You pump your hand up and down his length. He touches your stomach, gripping the softness along your sides, and squeezes, working his thumbs into your flesh.
"Like this too." He rasps.
You stroke him base to tip. He groans.
"Put me in."
You swallow dryly as he bends over you. You angle him down as he moves and you guide him down your folds. His tip slides down to your entrance.
He snarls and snaps his hips before you can ease him in. You cry out and clasp onto his shoulder.
"Shhh, our son's sleeping." He thrusts and you stifle another squeal.
You fall flat beneath him. Your hand snakes down to grip his bicep as your other clutches just above his hip. He curls his arm around your head and ruts into you. The bed shakes as squeeze his arm and grind your teeth.
He hangs his head next to yours as he pounds you into the mattress. You whimper as his rhythm picks up and his pelvis snaps down harder and harder. You wrap your thighs around him, hoping to slow him.
He leans on his elbow and tilts his torso. He reaches down to your clit and flicks around. You buck beneath him and gasp. He does it again.
"That's it." He presses firmly and swirls, thrusting against his hand as he toys with you. "Cum for your captain."
You moan and trail your hand up his side. You brace his chest and push your head into the bed. Your toes curl as he plucks at your nerves.
"Ah, ah," you babble.
"You tell your captain when you cum." He growls.
"Yes... Captain."
"Good girl. You say when. Say it clear." He rams into your as you arch your back.
You nod as your tongue lolls out. You pant as you turn your head back and forth. You lifts your chest and dig your nails into his skin.
He bows down, curving his spine to nip at your tits. You hug his head and hook your legs above his ass.
"Cap-captain," you heave. "I-I-I-- I'm cum-minnngggggg."
He snaps his teeth around your nipple and his tongue teases the tip. He purrs and sucks until you feel a trickle. You drone out your orgasm until he smothers it with his hand blindly.
He doesn't stop, even as your shaking, even as you whining. If anything, your surrender only spurs him on.
“Tomorrow will be better.”
“But what if it’s not?” I asked.
“Then you say it again tomorrow. Because it might be. You never know, right? At some point, tomorrow will be better.”
― Morgan Matson, Amy & Roger's Epic Detour
