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lovifie · 2 months

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Simon Riley whose favourite hair was always yours.

The first time he touched your hair, you were both deployed. You were walking before him, your hair in a braid behind your head that was almost hypnotizing. You stick your head from behind a wall, and Simon pulls your braid the moment he hears gunshots to keep you away from the fire line. A whine escapes your lips that sounds almost like a kicked dog and you quickly look back to him. "Thank you, Lt." You mutter.

And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Your hair doesn't glow in the dark, yet it always draws his attention. Like a lifesaver floating in an ocean. He quickly learns that he can't wait to touch it again, so he observes and waits for a chance to do so.

Like when you were rewriting a report on the mess hall, Price told you it was illegible and taking in consideration Price's handwriting you took it to heart. So there you were, writing again the pages with your best handwriting.

A lock of hair in the middle of your face had Simon almost sprinting to you to move it out of your face before you could it yourself. Of course he didn't say anything romantic, instead he said: "You are gonna go blind like that, and you are supposed to watch my back out there."

It wasn't romantic on its own, but his hand remained caressing the hair now behind your ear and when you looked up to meet his gaze, the both of you pulled away from each other as if you had been hit. "That line is dropping, start it again." He comments. "Yes, Lt."

On another occasion, you got late to practice, overslept. Obviously by your bed hair, not even time to brush it. Price quickly told you to fix it and Simon seriously considered if the insubordination would be worth it, because he would rip both his arms off if he could wake up everyday with that sight.

It was at that point that Simon realized he was doomed, because he had not been slowly pulled to you, he fell face first and being honest to himself, he was happy with it. He wouldn't admit it yet, it was easier to believe he only liked your hair.

And as time went on, it became more and more easy to find excuses to touch it.

Like when you got sick that one time, waking in the middle of the night to empty your stomach on the toilet. And it went on until the morning, when he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, too weak to walk back to your room.

Face wet with tears for not being able to stop throwing up, for being tired and for feeling useless. He quickly crouched down, paper towel in hand to clean your face. "Why are you here?" He softly asked, mask hiding his expression but his eyes gave away his emotions.

"I got sick." You mumbled, voice hoarse with the strain of the night.

"That I can tell, love." The nickname caught the both of you by surprise, but neither complained. "Let's get you to bed."

You nod, grabbing his hand to stand up, before another round of nausea hit forcing you to back down to throw up again. He quickly moved your hair out of the way grabbing it at the back of your head. "You are gonna get sick, Ghost. Leave me alone, I'm fine."

"Number one, I'm pretty sure your dinner from last night it's on my hand, so I believe we are past nicknames now." He says, being interrupted before being able to say the second thing.

"Don't touch my hair with puke on your hand!" You say grabbing his wrist, making him chuckle. You barely had energy to pull your head up and still tried to fight him.

"I would never, love. That's the other hand." He said looking as you wiped your mouth, breath getting knock out of him when you lock your gaze on his. "What is it?" You asked, confusing him. "Your name."

"Simon."

"Simon?"

"Simon Riley."

A beat of silence simmered on the bathroom for a second.

"That's a surprisingly sweet name, Simon."

And if the world had ended at that moment, Simon would have died a happy man.

But he didn't, instead he eased his way into your heart.

It wasn't hard, and soon enough Simon didn't need excuses to touch your hair. And touching your hair was the excuse to get you closer to him.

Like when he was dying to kiss your lips, but you wouldn't look up to him. Why wouldn't you look at him? Couldn't you tell it was killing him? So he fisted your hair, pulling back slightly; enough to make you look up but not enough to sting. And when his eyes met yours, he dived right into your lips. Moving his hands to cup your face instead of hair, needing to feel the warmth of your skin. The kiss pulling the air from his lung but still making him feel more alive than ever.

Or like when you finally had the time and intimacy to make love. And when he had you on his bed, knees apart and face buried on his pillow, he fisted your hair again, pulling your head back, because he needed to hear you moan his name while he filled you to the brim. Simon Riley was not a saint, but he would go through the hell his life has been again if it meant he got to experience this. Your cunt milking his dick, your smaller hand grabbing the wrist of his hand on your hip, your moans filling the room and when you looked back to him over your shoulder, his life got meaning and he kissed your lips.

Or like when you would cuddle, and he would do tiny braids on your hair he would forget to undo or tell you about and you would find out hours later when you would try to brush your hair and end up with massive knots. Walking to him ready to throw the brush at his head and you would find him hugging your pillow on his sleep, completely relax and content with himself.

Or like when years later, he brushed the hair sticking to your forehead by the sweat while you pushed his daughter to life. If he could take the pain away he would, but he knew you were the strongest woman in this world and could do it. He also knew you needed his comfort, so he moved his hand from your hair to grab your hand even if you crushed every bone inside.

Your hair was always his favourite, until your daughter was born. Because she had Simon's eyes, but she had your hair. And your hair was beautiful, but his little girl's hair was the proof of the love between Simon and you.

Simon Riley loved your hair, but he loved you more.

Masterlist

Hii🩷

Accept this as an apology for the pain from Inmortal!Simon, hope that you guys like it ♥️♥️

Also I barely proof read it, so if there are any misspelled words, no there isn't ♥️🫡

If there is anything that you would like me to write my inbox is always open for request and asks ♥️

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#call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod #ghost cod #simon riley imagine #cod smut #ghost smut #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #simon imagine #ghost imagine #simon ghost imagine

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abbyscherry · 3 months

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please keep unfollowing me. you stay silent, you are complicit with what’s happening. i don’t want fake ass friends.

to the ones who would rather ignore it and the ones who just don’t fucking care; you’re pathetic. you’re disgusting, and i wish i didn’t know you.

i feel sick to my stomach. i’m sick to my stomach. disgusted even by the fact you’re blatantly ignoring a genocide. scrolling past videos and posts about the real world where people are dying every minute, and instead you sit there giggling like a complete twat. literal fucking idiots asking me why i’m mad. the question you should be asking yourself is, why are YOU not mad? why are YOU not upset? why are YOU not pissed off? why are YOU sitting there and acting like nothing is happening?

ya’ll for real make me wanna rip my hair out. you have these big platforms, but you don’t even wanna use it? you state you give a shit, but you’re silent the fucking second something happens? spare me that shit. be for real. if you cared, you would be speaking out more. no one has time for your fake ass excuses anymore.

to the ones who are using their platform and using it to spread awareness. i love you. i love you for using your voice. i love you for simply reblogging everything you see. thank you. you all are amazing.

but for the ignorant assholes? fuck off. get away. you’re all complicit, and i don’t care about you.

As usual, Free Palestine 🇵🇸

how you can help Palestine

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joelsgreys · 2 days

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flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner.

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair.

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?”

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten.

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home.

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains.

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: snapshots

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clamenstell · 4 months

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thinking about lovesick!gojo

- lovesick!gojo who fell in love with you when you held his hand in comfort when he was upset from being scolded by the higher ups about something reckless he did.

- lovesick!gojo who noticed the way you understood that he was still young and even the strongest made mistakes, which is okay as he's still learning.

- lovesick!gojo who started noticing little things about you, like how you pick your nails when nervous, how your eyes light up when talking about your interest, how you tap your pencil in thought when working in class and when you smile, little dimples appear on your cheeks.

- lovesick!gojo who gets butterflies in his stomach whenever you giggle at his terrible jokes while suguru and shoko both roll their eyes in annoyance.

- lovesick!gojo who jokes around even more in order to hear you laugh again, even when the others grow even more tired of him.

- lovesick!gojo who doesn't try to hide how much he wants to hang out with you, who makes up ridiculous excuses to spend time with you. "What do you mean Suguru is busy? Isn't he right there?" "HAHAHA! That's hilarious, let's go somewhere else..." as he drags your form in the opposite way.

- lovesick!gojo who falls even more when you indulge in his teasing. "Need some help?~" You roll your eyes. "I wouldn't want to bother the strongest one~ I'm sure you have better things to do." His grin widens. "It's ok, I don't mind sparing my time for you~"

- lovesick!gojo who tries to impress you everytime you're both assigned on the same mission, showing off at every chance he got and turning his head expectantly to you to see if you were watching him. "Did you see how I exorcised that curse?" "Yes, you did great Satoru.🙄" ":))))"

- lovesick!gojo who feels the pit of jealousy when he sees you conversing with a kyoto student, even more when he sees you laugh at something he said. You were suppose to laugh at his jokes, not a random nobody's.

- lovesick!gojo who appears right by your side in the middle of your conversation, sliding an arm around your waist, pouting and batting his eyelashes. "Baby, I thought we had something special :((( 🥺🥺🥺" "Satoru what the fuck."

- lovesick!gojo who grins in victory when the kyoto guy leaves in panic from seeing the affectionate display, but frowns when you scold him for disturbing your conversation. It doesn't matter, he still won and now your attention is on him instead :)

- lovesick!gojo who loves sharing sweets with you. Whenever he bought pastries from your favourite bakery he will always get extra to share with you. He especially loved seeing your face light up whenever he mentioned getting your favourite pastry.

- lovesick!gojo who gets surprised when you always return the favor, always sharing baked goods you bought, even getting the extra sweet ones just for him.

- lovesick!gojo who's ears turn red at the thought of you buying something just for him, no one else.

- lovesick!gojo who swears he will marry you one day, no matter the circumstance, not even the higher ups would stop him. All he need is to ask you out first, but seeing you chuckle as you two shared a chocolate cake, he thought staying by your side is good enough for now. After all, he's not getting cured from this sickness anytime soon.

he's so 🥺❤️😍🥺🤗😚❤️😳🥰❤️ to me

1K notes · View notes

wintrwinchestr · 6 months

Text

obedience (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: you decide to act out after feeling neglected by joel for over a week. it doesn’t go quite according to plan, but his punishment does help you unlock a new kink or two.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, daddy kink, d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, brat tamer joel, degradation/humiliation (use of slut, whore, 1 use of bitch), orgasm denial/edging, boot riding, pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin’, sugar, sweetheart, honey, puppy), entering petplay territory??, finger sucking, one face slap but she likes it (and so do i), taking/sending nudes at work, subspace, hair pulling, joel cums on reader’s face, cum eating, two idiots who finally communicate and apologize to each other, gets soft at the end bc i’m a woman of many interests, reader can be carried by joel but no other physical descriptions, winter’s limited knowledge of what contractors do, pic of girl in the moodboard is for bra imagery only, reader looks just like you!! :)

word count: 4.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent so please don’t look at me!!! lil shoutout to @pascalisbaby for inspiring me to write something just so i can use “puppy” bc their love’s gonna get you killed series has fucked me up extremely bad.

divider by @saradika

It’s coming up on nearly a week and a half of Joel working long days and late nights at the latest suburban McMansion he’s been contracted out to. Each and every time he creeps into his side of the bed after you’ve already gone to sleep, never failing to wake you up in the process, he always has a different excuse. “My concrete guy was out sick today”, “the vendor gave us the wrong size rebar”, “the landscapers were in our way all damn day”, and other similar eye roll-inducing anecdotes that were followed up with sleepy apologies.

Tonight, you’re almost certain, will be just the same.

Slogging through yet another slow and uneventful day at your corporate nine-to-five, you’re practically counting down the seconds until you’ll be able to escape your drab little cubicle for the day. You aren’t exactly looking forward to going home, though, either. You know that all you have waiting for you will be another lonely night of heating up a frozen dinner, watching reality TV reruns until the ten o’clock news comes on, and then tucking yourself into a cold bed.

While you’re waiting around for a coworker to message you back about something painfully unimportant, you decide to get up to kill some time in the bathroom on your phone and stretch your legs a bit. You stand up from your rolling chair, grabbing your phone in the process, and head down the hall to the one single-person bathroom in the building that you know of.

You step inside and click the lock shut behind you, looking forward to having a rare few minutes to yourself without the threat of your manager lurking over your shoulder. You inspect your makeup in the mirror and address some flyaway hairs before leaning back against the sink and swiping your home screen into view. Your heart soars at the discovery of a text notification from Joel, but settles just as quickly when you read the words across your screen.

A couple of my dumbass guys fucked up some measurements again. Gonna be another late one. Sorry baby.

You let out an exasperated sigh and turn around to face your reflection again, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink and trying not to cry. How much fucking longer are you going to have to put up with this? You'd been getting through it alright so far, but his sterile text had ignited a raging fire deep in your stomach that made a scorching heat climb its way up the back of your neck.

You’re determined to get his attention tonight, one way or another. Even if it means pushing some of his buttons, riling him up, making him feel a few licks of that very same inferno. You’re feeling fucking bratty.

You undo the top few buttons of your blouse and shimmy it off your shoulders, exposing the blushing lace of the bra you had chosen when you were getting dressed this morning. Using one arm to hold your phone up to the mirror with the camera app open, you use the other one to prop yourself up against the sink and assist in pushing your tits together. As a final touch, you pull down one of the delicate cups along with its accompanying strap, exposing an already peaked nipple. Meeting your own eyes in the reflection and forming your glossy lips into a faux pout, you snap the picture and attach it to your text conversation with Joel. You type out a coy little message to go along with it and send it off.

that’s okay daddy. just sad i wore a rly cute bra today for nothing :(

While you anxiously wait for his response, you take a few more lewd photos to tease him with later, and make your way back to your desk after you button yourself up again and smooth out your skirt.

Sitting back down at your cubicle, you check your notifications to find a response from Joel, sent just a few seconds ago.

What’d I tell you about sendin me shit like that when I’m at work? Put your fuckin tits away babygirl. Not in the mood today.

Despite his harsh words, you know your plan is already working in your favor. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you attach another one of the photos you had taken in the bathroom, this one of your matching lace panties pulled aside to expose your bare pussy to the front camera. You type out another flirtatious message and tap the button to send it.

idk what u mean daddy :( just miss u is all. she misses u too :((

You promptly turn off your phone and place it screen-down next to your mousepad, resigning yourself to a mere ten minutes of work before you can’t resist temptation anymore and pick it back up again to check for a reply.

Last warning babygirl. I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t need your slutty pictures distractin me. I’ll see ya tonight.

whatever. u don’t pay attention to me anymore anyway :/

You begin to regret your message as soon as you send it, worrying you might have taken things too far. But it was true; you’re upset, in a bratty mood, and feeling neglected. And, maybe you did want to work him up enough for him to take it all out on you, to fuck the attitude out of you the way you know he likes to do every so often.

A few seconds after you power off your screen to do a few more minutes of work, it illuminates again.

Oh I don't? When I get home tonight you better be kneelin in front of the door waitin for me undressed like a good girl. Not like the fuckin brat you’re actin like. And we’ll see about payin you some attention. Now pull your fuckin panties up and get back to work.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you read his text, now feeling exhilarated that your plan is officially in motion. After you’ve read his words through a couple of times, squeezing your thighs together and stifling a whimper as you did so, your trembling fingers type out a simple reply:

yes daddy <3

The remainder of your work day seems to pass by in slow motion, every minute feeling more like five. You can hardly bring yourself to focus on any of your mundane tasks, your mind constantly drifting to what you might be in for tonight. Will he spank you and leave red handprints on your ass for days? Will he fuck your face while you sputter and gasp around him? Will he work you over with his tongue until all you know how to say is “I’m sorry, Daddy”? As you shake yourself from your trance and try to focus your eyes again, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to act up like this earlier in the week. You keep your eye on the little digital clock in the corner of your monitor for the last five consecutive minutes of your work day, and as soon as 4:59 flashes to 5:00, you practically sprint out to your car in your hurry to get home.

–

You’re cuddled up on the couch underneath your favorite fleece blanket, already stripped down to your peony-colored underwear set like Joel had requested. The past couple of hours have been spent cycling between all of your streaming services and social media apps, trying desperately to find something to occupy yourself with until he gets home. You’re half-tempted to get up and walk some laps around the house, but around 10:30, you finally see the scanning headlights of Joel’s pickup as it turns into the driveway.

You immediately spring up from your little nest on the couch and prance over to the front door, kneeling a few feet in front of it just like he ordered.

In your excited anticipation to see him, you tune your ears to pick up every little sound you hear as he makes his way to you: the slam of the truck’s driver’s side door, the dull thud of his work boots heading up the walkway, the prolonged jingling of his keys as he fumbles with them to unlock the door. You’re sure he’s fidgeting with them for a few seconds longer than usual, just to tease you and keep you waiting. A shiver runs up your spine and you can feel your heart pounding against the walls of your chest as he finally turns the lock.

He calmly steps inside and closes the door behind him, dropping his dusty work bag onto the floor and stripping himself of his canvas tool belt. He stalks over to where you’re knelt on the hardwood, wrapped in your dainty lace for him like a little doll. There’s something arousing about the contrast between your barely-there feminine attire and his dark, practical clothing.

“Well, whaddya know, she can be good after all… Waitin’ for me all nice and pretty just like I asked. All it takes is an order from your Daddy to get you actin’ right again, ain’t that right, babygirl? Obedient lil’ thing…” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks, keeping your eyes trained on his. You nod up at him, doe-eyed and dazed, already feeling yourself beginning to slip into that familiar saccharine headspace.

Every time you had previously tried your hand at bratting, it never lasted very long, and tonight was already proving to be no different. He was right, after all, it doesn’t take more than a command, a look, a gentle grasp of your chin, to remind you of your desire to be good for him.

“What, Daddy doesn’t get a proper greetin’ after a long day o’ work? You already that far gone f’ me, can’t use your words proper like a big girl?”

“H-hi, Daddy… Missed you today,” you half-whisper, your voice sounding a little higher and further away than it did earlier in the day.

“Yeah, I know y’ did… I’ll bet your lil’ panties are ‘bout soaked through already, bet you left a wet spot on your fuckin’ desk chair just from daydreamin’ about what I was gonna do to you tonight, hm?”

Another silent nod accompanied by a pitiful little whimper. The blazing fire in your gut from this afternoon is quickly being replaced by something much more easily tamed, something more akin to a flickering candle flame than a wildfire. You struggle to keep your eyelids open as they begin to feel heavier with submission.

A stern look and a ticked jaw is enough for you to correct your wordless response.

“Y-yes, Daddy…”

“And what is it that you think I’m gonna do with you tonight, babygirl? Speak up, now…”

You rack your brain for a moment, suddenly unable to remember any of the depraved fantasies you had been conjuring up all day instead of replying to emails. You eventually land on a relatively straightforward answer.

“I th-think you’re gonna… gonna fuck the attitude outta me, t-teach me a lesson… right, Daddy?”

He lets out a dark chuckle, releasing your chin from his hold to give your cheek a couple of condescending pats instead.

“Aww, dumb lil’ thing… you thought Daddy was gonna touch you at all tonight, make that pathetic lil’ pussy cum after the stunts you were pullin’ today? Nah, I don’t think so… Open that slutty fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re reeling, taken aback by his harsh words, words that were certainly not in any of the countless scenarios you had been imagining at work. There’s a long beat of silence as you struggle to process his command.

You hear the smack across your face before you feel the heated sting of it, and it prompts a debauched mewl to spill from your parted lips.

“I said open your fuckin’ mouth…”

Your jaw falls slack in an instant, your pulsing cunt releasing an ashamed wave of wetness at the degrading slap. Joel shoves his thumb inside your waiting mouth, and you wrap your lips around it obediently as you swirl your tongue along its calloused landscape. It tastes salty, a little dirty, and you like it.

“Good girl, suck on Daddy’s thumb, tha’s it… dumb whore’ll suck on anything Daddy puts in her mouth, won’t she? Desperate lil’ thing… Bet you wish it was this fat cock instead, don’t you baby?”

You whine and nod around him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well… that’s just too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it? Tonight’s not about what you want, you can gimme that sad puppy look all you like, sugar, not gonna change anythin’...”

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your slick lips try to chase after it until he wipes it clean on the side of your face. His hands make quick work of opening his stained work jeans and freeing his stiff cock from his briefs, taking it into one hand and beginning to pump it with languid strokes. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull with his free hand and taps the leaking head of his length against your cheek, adding to the dampness there from your own saliva.

“This what you want?” Tap tap tap. “You want Daddy’s cock? Hm? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, dirty girl?” He rocks his hips back and forth as he speaks, smearing his arousal along your skin.

You can’t help but squirm as a humiliated heat begins to pool in your tummy.

“Yes, Daddy, please let me have it, wan’ it so bad…” you beg.

He releases your hair and pulls his cock away from your face, making a show of massaging it and taunting you with what he won’t let you have.

“Nah, you ain’t gettin’ any of Daddy’s cock tonight, baby… In fact, I’m gonna stand right here and take care of m’self, and you’re gonna find somethin’ to rub that soakin’ cunt on while I watch…”

As the last of his words leave his lips, he steps one foot forward and nudges it between your thighs, looking at you expectantly. You lower your head to face his steel-toed work boot, covered in dust and dirt from his day at the construction site. Your mind still too deep in the clouds to understand what he’s asking of you, you lift your eyes back up to him for guidance. He juts his chin out in a silent “go on, then”, and you return your confused gaze back to his boot, the toe of which is positioned just in front of your aching heat. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide as you finally realize: he wants to pleasure himself to the sight of you getting yourself off on his boot.

All at once, it falls into place how he wants the night to unfold. He wants to deny you. Deny you of his touch, his cock, even the privilege of making him feel good yourself… all because you acted out, disobeyed him, tested his limits.

“We understand each other, darlin’?”

“Y-yes, Daddy…” You meet his eyes as you speak, voice coming out a little unsteady. Any confidence you had while you were teasing him this afternoon is long gone, fully submitting to him now and completely at his mercy. He didn’t need to fuck you in order to put you in your place, he knew plenty of other much more degrading ways to rid you of your bratty attitude, to remind you of who you belong to.

You position your cunt over the filthy toe of his boot, the gusset of your lacy panties now completely saturated with your wetness. Your hands planted on either side of his leg, you try an experimental grind onto the leather-covered steel. A bolt of electricity shoots from your swollen clit to your fevered cheeks, burning with the eroticism of being made to humiliate yourself like this. He allows you to wrap your arms around his calf, using his sturdy form as leverage to rub yourself harder and faster against the solid material.

“Look at you, humpin’ my boot like a fuckin’ dog… that’s just what y’ are, ain’t it? Daddy’s lil’ puppy…” he teases, spurring you on with his words and the indecent sounds of his wet fist working along his thick cock.

You let out an involuntary yelp at the new pet name, which he’s quick to catch with a huff through his nose.

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she? Y’ like that, sweetheart, bein’ Daddy’s good girl, his obedient lil’ puppy? Yeah, I know y’ do… I got you trained good, don’t I? Do just about anything I want, won’t you? Got you rubbin’ that slutty pussy on my fuckin’ boot, for Christ’s sake, barely even had to ask… fuckin’ pathetic.”

The degradation makes your stomach swirl with a cocktail of embarrassment and pleasure. Your cunt flutters as you continue your frantic movements, releasing broken whimpers that sound something like uh huh and yes, Daddy. You’re sure that your slick has to be dripping down his boot by now, soaking straight through the leather and pooling onto the hardwood. You wonder if he might punish you for that, too, for making a mess of him and your freshly mopped floors. Just the thought of it has your hips picking up the pace, desperate to reach your high.

Your eyes are shut tightly as you pursue your orgasm, but you can still hear the shallow pumps of Joel’s fist and his stuttering breaths that indicate he’s close to his own release.

“Yeah, grind that sloppy fuckin’ puppy cunt on Daddy’s boot, there ya go… lookin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat… desperate whore… c’mon, puppy, make a fuckin’ mess for me…”

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, gonna–”

Just as you feel yourself about to crest the wave of your climax, he pulls his foot out from under you and yanks your head back by another fistful of hair.

“Open up, puppy,” he groans as he splashes his hot release all over your face, aiming most of it around your mouth as you cry out from the denial of your own pleasure.

“Look at you, filthy girl… So pretty for Daddy, all covered in me,” he coos as the last few milky drops land on your cheek. Before any of it can start to drip, he scoops it up with his thumb and feeds it to you a bit at a time, and you continue to suck his finger into your eager mouth once again.

When your face is fully cleaned of his spend, he pulls his thumb from between your lips for a final time with a pop, and you stick out your tongue to show him you’ve swallowed everything he’s given you.

“Good girl,” he praises, petting the side of your hair in soothing strokes. “What do you say to Daddy, hm?”

“Th-thank you…” you choke out, still trying to steady your voice.

“And what else?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “And… I’m sorry, Daddy,” you relent.

“For what, sweet girl?”

This was always your least favorite part, the part you struggled with the most: admitting that you were wrong.

“For being a brat today, for not listening and disrespecting you…” Your posture deflates, wondering if you should continue your confession. You remember one of the ground rules that was laid out when you first entered this dynamic with him, the one about how important communication is, and decide to keep going. “I jus’ feel like you’ve hardly paid any attention to me the past few days…” You start to sniffle as you speak, the overwhelm of it all finally catching up with you.

“Oh…” he breathes sympathetically. “Here, can you stand up, babygirl? C’mon, come sit on Daddy’s lap for a minute.”

He offers you his hands, and you use them to push yourself up onto shaky legs, feeling like a newborn foal. You wrap your arms around his neck and he scoops you up, carrying you bridal-style back to your cozy spot on the couch. He situates you in his lap, wrapping you up in your blanket again, and you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between his shoulder and neck. You inhale through your nose, smiling to yourself and sighing contentedly when your senses are flooded with his natural comforting smell.

“I know I’ve been workin’ some real late nights recently… I’m sorry about that, honey,” he apologizes, rubbing comforting circles around your upper back.

“‘S okay, Daddy, ‘s not your fault,” you say into his skin.

“But I shoulda made more of an effort to give you some lovin’ anyway, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to brat on me… Look at me, baby.” You lift your head and meet his sincere gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

“I know y’ are, sweet girl, I know…”

You exchange warm smiles, and he curls his pointer finger under your chin to pull your face toward his, placing a delicate kiss to your lips. He settles both of his large hands on either side of your face before breaking the kiss to press your foreheads together. You close your eyes and try to match his breathing, enjoying this moment with him.

After a minute or so, you break the silence. “So… puppy, huh? That’s a new one,” you giggle.

He laughs and releases your face from his hold, meeting your eyes again. “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new, I guess…” He snakes a hand under the blanket, thumbing over the damp crotch of your panties. “And judgin’ by this lil’ mess down here, I take it you liked it. Hm, pretty girl?”

Still sensitive from your earlier denial, you let out a high pitched little whine and an involuntary buck of your hips into his hand.

“See? Even sound like a lil’ puppy… Daddy’s good girl. You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

“Uh huh, yes, Daddy, please…” Your face is buried in his chest as you rut into his hand, squeezing it between your thighs, back to the same place you were just before he pulled his boot out from underneath you.

“Daddy was so mean earlier, wasn’t he? Not lettin’ you cum, punishin’ you for actin’ up… But I think you’ve learned your lesson now, huh puppy? C’mon, sweet girl, let go, soak Daddy’s hand…”

And you do. With his permission, you cry out, muscles spasming and cunt twitching as you finally ride out the climax you’ve been chasing all night. You’re panting by the time you start to come down after what feels like several minutes, exhaustion hitting you hard all at once. When some of your awareness has come back to you, you realize that Joel is gently rocking you back and forth on his lap, petting the back of your head and gently shushing in your ear.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright, babygirl, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha… So good for me, baby, my precious girl…”

When your breathing evens out once more, you muster the strength to lift your head from its place against his heart, and he chuckles at the sleepy and sated look on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“My lil’ puppy’s all tuckered out, huh? Let’s get you up to bed, darlin’, Daddy’ll tuck you in.”

He stands up with a groan, cradling you in his muscled arms, and carries you into the bedroom. You’re already drifting off to sleep when he sits you on the bed, carefully stripping you of your ruined underwear and helping you into a clean, sensible pair of cotton undies. He retrieves one of his oversized “Miller Contracting” shirts from his drawer and slips it over your head, helping your weak arms through the sleeves. Brushing your hair away from your face, he places a scruffy kiss to your hairline and helps you lay down onto the cool sheets. He pulls the covers up all the way over your shoulders, the way he knows you like, and smiles to himself when you burrow yourself into the sheets.

He takes a quick shower to rid himself of the grime and grit he collected on his skin during the day, and slips into bed beside you. Another private smile and a small shake of his head when you instinctually turn to face him and snuggle into his warm body, wrapping your arms around the breadth of his upper arm and inhaling the masculine cologne of his body wash.

He reaches across his chest to gently scratch at the top of your head, prompting a dreamy little noise from you. “Just like I said,” he whispers to himself, “a lil’ puppy.”

He wouldn’t have you any other way.

not really sure who to tag for this one, gonna use the same list from my last fic if that's okay!! anyone else please let me know if you'd like to be tagged on my future fics!!

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

1K notes · View notes

gurugirl · 7 months

Text

More of You | bfd!harry

there's a reference to his hair drying all curly after a shower so i had to use this image

Note: Can be read as standalone

Summary: Harry's at your place for a couple of days and you're enjoying having him all to yourself.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, lying, cheating, age gap, breeding kink (you guys asked for the breeding kink and this one is full of it), fluff

bfd!harry masterlist

Harry convinced you to call off work the next morning. You were due to go in that afternoon but Mondays were slow anyway and tips were generally subpar when it was slow. Plus you rarely called off so once wouldn’t hurt anything.

He listened as you rolled over in bed and called your boss.

You made up an excuse about being sick to your stomach. And being sick as a server is a big no-no so your boss didn’t even put up a fight. He told you to feel better and then said he’d see you Wednesday because you already had Tuesday off. Two whole days with Harry uninterrupted sounded like heaven.

You sat up to place your phone back on your nightstand and intended on getting up to put a t-shirt on and make coffee but Harry lunged toward you and wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you back into the bed. His strong arms easily keeping you from getting up.

“Where are you going?” He said as he pushed you down and leaned over you, caging you in by putting his thigh over yours.

You laughed, “I was going to make coffee.”

“I think we should stay in bed for a while longer,” he spoke as he brought a hand up to your neck and then ducked down to kiss your lips.

And that pretty much had you melting into your mattress and feeling fuzzy and blurry with his lips against yours.

You pulled your arms around Harry’s back and felt the scratches you’d given him the night before. You helped him clean them because you’d done some damage.

“Harry you already fucked me,” you moaned as he began to lower his lips down your body.

He stopped the wet path of his lips down and looked up at you, “So? I have an appetite. You just do something to me, Y/n. Prepare yourself for two days of this.” And with that, he attached his mouth to your cunt and you yelped.

You woke up that morning and had hot quick morning sex. You got off so impossibly fast that Harry even had to question if you’d been faking it. But of course, you weren’t. It was just everything all at once. His love, his body, his words, his presence.

And now he wanted to take his time with you. Get you all worked up again and fuck you slowly, filling you up with everything he had to give you.

With your thighs wrapped around his head and Harry’s quick tongue at your clit you came for the second time that morning. But he felt you yanking at his hair and you were begging him to get inside of you again.

“Desperate for me again? Fuck I love that.” He moved up your body and you were writhing under him.

“Yes. Please, Harry. Fill me up full. I need it.”

Harry let out a soft laugh as he kissed each of your nipples. You hadn’t even had time to clean up after the last round because you’d called your boss. So you were still full with his come, which he could taste as he was eating you out.

“Does it really feel that good, baby? You know you’re already stuffed with my come right now. Right? You want more?”

Nodding your head you pulled at him impatiently, “Need more. Want to carry your babies and drip with your come every day all day long.”

Harry groaned. Your sex drive matched his libido perfectly. He loved it. How much you enjoyed having sex. How slick you got and how fertile you were. It all fed into his primal kink to breed. You might have been on birth control but he could have fun with it. He knew you were dirty and enjoyed it too.

He plunged into your hole, pushing his previous orgasm deeper inside of you. The wet squelches were sloppy and obscene. You were so incredibly wet and still dripping with him that it made things even messier. He sat back onto his haunches and slowly thrust into you, pulling back and plunging in until his pubic hair dipped into your messy, wet pussy.

Your legs were spread apart wide as you looked up at him. Harry was honed in on where his cock was spreading you apart. You moaned at the feel of it. Everything was so wet and sticky. You knew it would be on your sheets.

“Fuck me just like that Harry. Deep, get it in there.” You panted your words. Harry was going deep but he wasn’t going hard.

Harry moaned and turned his gaze toward your pretty face, his hands at your hips, pulling you toward him on each thrust, “You just want to be my come hole? Get filled up over and over again?”

You could hear the desperation in his voice. He was already close to coming.

“Yes, sir. Need you to keep pumping your babies into me. Fuck your come into me, and then fill me again so it gets into my womb.”

“Shit, baby. So creamy…” Harry panted as he continued pulling you over his cock like you were a toy he needed to fuck down over himself. Your tits wobbled with each pull and he could hear how wet everything was. Messy. “Gonna breed you, baby. Make you a mommy, yeah? Keep draining my cock deep into your pussy until you’re fat with all my babies. That what you want?”

You cried out and nodded, “Yes! Oh my god… yes!”

Harry could feel his heart thundering in his chest. He’d never been able to do what he was doing right then. Back-to-back orgasms. Even when he was younger he needed to recover. He’d always had a high sex drive but his natural refractory period typically meant he needed some time in between. But god, with you? It was like you just pushed all his buttons exactly like he needed.

He moaned as his eyes roved your sexy form. A pretty thing and all his. Soft thighs shaking, tits wobbling, tummy getting fucked into, wet lips wide open with a fucked out smile… All his.

“Come in me, Harry. Please, sir. Come inside of me. Make me all yours…” you moaned. You were really getting into the breeding thing. Never had it appealed to you before Harry. And maybe the reasons you liked it so much with him were selfish. Because part of you would love to have him get you pregnant. Then he’d really be all yours. You knew Harry would do anything to take care of you and he’d forsake everyone for you. Just as you would for him.

Harry’s thumb landed on your clit and you wailed in ecstasy, throwing your head back as you grasped the tops of his thighs, “Yesss!”

He watched you arch and tremble and felt your pussy fluttering around him so he kept at what he was doing. He could tell you were near your end.

“Gonna come on my cock? Milk me of everything I’ve got? Selfish little thing wants all my come inside of her pussy doesn’t she?”

You groaned lowly and sputtered out a cry. You were actually crying. You had tears on your face but it wasn’t because you didn’t like what was happening. It was because you liked it too much. “Want it all. Want all your come inside of me. Only mine,” you babbled on about his come only being yours and how you needed it inside of you.

He closed his eyes for a moment to keep his thrusts steady because his view of your pussy taking him, creamy white arousal pushed down over the base of his cock, his come leaking out of your hole and down your ass… he was about to explode inside of you again.

“Fucking come then, baby. I’m gonna give you my come but I need to feel you coming first, honey. Come on, Y/n.”

You blubbered and cried and then you snapped. The loud wail that fell from your lungs had Harry taken aback. It was… loud. But he had little time to consider the kind of noises you two were making in your bedroom with your bed bouncing and creaking loudly and your high-pitched moans and yelps.

The moment you cried out as he felt you squeeze around him and your thigh muscles tightened he could feel you orgasming. He coughed out a loud groan and poured into you finally, pressing his hips against yours and rocking down into you so he could get his come inside of your guts and fill your walls with his sperm.

You both whined and cried, you much louder, but the overload of come inside of your pussy was like a small fountain. It dripped down your ass cheeks and soaked the bed under you. Harry had himself buried in so deep and had a hold of your hips so you couldn’t pull away, his balls snug against you as he pumped and pumped into you.

“Shit!” He groaned. He had come so hard that he saw specks in his vision and he felt lightheaded.

When he caught his breath he collapsed over you and felt your legs wrap around his low back, “Harry… oh my god. I love you so much.”

He smiled into the pillow and turned his head so his lips were at your ear, “I love you, baby.”

. . .

You were floaty and soft feeling after you’d had two orgasms. Harry was not feeling much different. He kept you close to him after. A short shower together to rinse off and touch and be together. Harry kissed your shoulders and your neck as you leaned your back into his chest under the stream of tepid water.

And in the kitchen with a breakfast of coffee and oatmeal, you teased him about the way his hair was drying in wild curls on top of his head, “You should really just do it like this, Harry. It’s so sexy,” you pushed your fingers into his hair.

He chuckled with a bite of food in his mouth and shook his head, as he watched you. When he’d swallowed his bite he pulled your hand from his hair and fit his fingers in between yours, “That is not going to happen. S’too messy.”

You shook your head, “I like it. It’s wild but it’s cute. Looks like you just had some really good sex.”

Harry pinched your thigh and pulled your chair right next to his before dragging you into his lap, your back hitting his chest with his mouth at your ear as he spoke, “My sex hair is only for you to see, baby.”

You grinned as you felt his hand grip your chin and turn your head so he could kiss your lips.

Harry’s phone rang suddenly and you quickly moved off his lap to let him up. He picked up his cell phone and looked at you before lifting the phone so you could see that Fae was calling him. A signal to keep quiet.

“Hey Fae,” Harry paced into the living room as he answered.

You busied yourself putting the bowls away but couldn’t help but hear his side of the conversation with his daughter.

“Okay… well, we haven’t even really discussed it yet so-“

He was silent for a moment as you rinsed the dishes but then heard him again, his tone was upset.

“Fae, listen to me,” he sighed and you watched as he walked in front of your couch, back and forth, “That’s not it. No.”

He laughed in frustration and then sat down, “I’m not home because it’s the middle of a work day, Fae.”

Harry leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes.

You knew she’d be talking to you about this soon. You imagined Fae called to find out what was going on with him and her mom. She’d want to vent to you. And all you could think about was how you’d navigate the lies.

“Sweetheart, this doesn’t change anything, okay? We just need some time.”

When he finally hung up you sat down next to him and waited for him to tell you what was said.

With his back still into the cushions he scooped your hand into his and brought it up to his chest, “She’s pissed at me. Asked if her mother was going to divorce me.”

You swallowed at the ‘D’ word. It was something you only allowed yourself to indulge in alone. You ran over all the scenarios in your head. It would be messy. Everyone would hate you but you’d have him in the end. And if that’s how it all wound up, that didn’t seem like the worst thing. No. The worst thing was to not end up with him after it all.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your body turned toward his.

He turned his head and looked at you with a smile, “I’m here with you so I’m okay. You make me happy, Y/n. I don’t know what’s going out outside of this but I know when I’m with you, I’m fine.”

You felt the same. Everything outside of your apartment was iffy and shaky. But inside, with Harry’s hands on you, his eyes on you, his voice, his existence connecting with yours… everything was fine.

With the TV on you and Harry curled into one another and watched whatever daytime television show was airing. The call from Fae had changed the air a bit. Harry didn’t want his daughter upset with him and you were on edge wondering when she’d be calling you to vent.

But you had him with you. He was at your apartment with you because that’s where he chose to go. And that had to mean something. Because you were sure his wife expected him to beg her to come back. That he’d be doing anything at all to win her back and explain himself and prove to her that nothing was going on. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he came to you that very night. Rather than going to his wife’s sister’s house to talk to her and smooth things out, he found his way to you and made love to you, and brought a bag so he could stay. Even if it would only be for a couple of nights it meant something.

And even though the air had changed, Harry still stayed within arm’s reach of you. At Lunchtime he had you sitting on the counter next to him while he made you sandwiches and then you sat together on your couch to eat.

“I brought something with me. For us,” Harry spoke in between his bites as he looked at you.

“What did you bring?”

He swallowed his bite and the look on his face told you that he needed to work up the nerve to say what he was about to, “Remember that toy I bought for you?”

You nodded. You did remember. The one that you told him to take with him when you were upset. The one his wife found in his study. There seemed to be a lot of negativity surrounding that toy so you could understand his hesitancy in bringing it up.

He scratched the back of his neck as he leaned forward to put his plate on your coffee table, “Was thinking we could test it out. If you want to.”

“Test it out?” You grinned and placed your empty plate down over Harry’s on your coffee table.

He raised his brows and shrugged, “Do you want to? Just to see?”

There was no way you’d say no to the man. Of course, you’d enjoy testing out a toy with him. You watched Harry connect it to charge and then you read over the instructions and Googled reviews.

The thing was mostly already charged when it arrived so after cleaning it off Harry brought you to your couch and laid the pink toy on your coffee table.

He stayed on the floor on his knees between your legs and pulled you down for a kiss, “You ready? Gonna get you worked up first and then we’ll see what that thing can do.”

Harry was already slipping your panties down your legs as he spoke. His lips against yours were soft and his hands gently spread your thighs further apart.

He pushed you back into your couch and began to peck wet kisses up your thighs and he had his hands holding your hips in place.

“Want you all wet first. Make it feel really good for you,” he spoke as moved his mouth upward to the space where your inner thighs were softest.

He sat back and pushed your t-shirt up over your tits and licked upward over your breasts until the air cooled them and your soft moans invited him to do more.

He planted his gaze on yours as he bent down and pulled at your thighs, causing your bum to slide off the edge of the couch so he could have access to your pussy.

And he put that access to good use.

He softly licked and kissed your clit and your labia, speaking filth in between as he went, “This little pussy is so pretty,” he puffed hot breath over your clit before softly tonguing at the hood, “and it’s all mine to fuck and lick and kiss. Can’t wait to see how she’s gonna look riding her new pink toy.”

You began to laugh at his “new pink toy” comment but it was cut off when he sucked your clit into his mouth with a slurp.

He lifted again with a grin, “She’s all wet now, look at that,” he thumbed at your crease and ran your glistening arousal over your clit before bringing it up so you could watch the spectacle of how wet you’d gotten for him so quickly. The string of arousal connected from his thumb to your cunt was broken as he moved his thumb up to your lips.

You wrapped your lips around his thick thumb and licked off your arousal.

“You ready to take it on a test drive now, baby?”

You laughed through your nose, “Why not?” You said with a grin.

Harry opened his phone and pulled up the app, selecting a pre-programmed setting for vibrations.

“Rub your clit for me,” he directed as he pressed the bulb to your entrance. It easily slid in with a gentle push and you moved your fingers from your clit when the little wand slid into place.

The moment he pushed play you felt the deep rumble inside. Now, you’d played with toys on your own before. You had a decent vibrator. But you knew this one could be used from his house on you while you were in your apartment.

“How’s it feel?” He asked as he looked from your pussy where the little pink antenna was sticking out to your eyes. He was still on the floor between your legs, his hands at your thighs to keep them apart.

You swallowed and nodded, “Yeah… uh… it feels good. Kind of like you’re fingering me with vibrations,” you giggled but then the programmed settings suddenly increased the thrumming inside and you gasped, widening your eyes. Oh yeah. That felt pretty good.

Harry watched you for a bit as you progressively got wetter. Having him right between your legs watching a toy rumble inside of you was quite odd. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Oh!” You yelped when the vibrations stuttered and stopped, started to life, and began to repeat in a pattern that you knew was hitting your g-spot, just like the booklet said it could. It was small but it definitely reached the spots it needed to.

Suddenly your phone began to ring.

You and Harry looked at one another for a moment before you lifted it to your ear quickly to get it over with.

It was Fae. Immediately she commented that she was surprised you’d picked up.

“Oh yeah, I called off today. Wasn’t feel very great. Just needed some rest. What’s up?”

You looked at Harry who had his eyes on you already.

Fae wanted to come over. She asked if she could stop by and you hated, loathed to lie to her.

“Maybe tomorrow afternoon I can meet you for lunch? Not today. I really am not feeling up to it.” You turned your face from the phone and gasped, dropping your mouth open as the vibrations were rattling your insides.

So, she told you about her father and her mother and how she was worried. Told you that her mother had left their home to stay with her sister and how Harry didn’t seem too concerned.

“I’m sure he cares, Fae. He loves you and your mother!” You hadn’t meant to speak so frantically at the end but the toy was still working inside of you.

“No! I’m okay! Sorry, I burnt myself. Can I call you back?” Again, your tone was too keyed up but you truly couldn’t help it as you panted, turning your mouth away from the receiver in hopes that Fae wouldn’t hear you.

It turned out that Fae was getting ready to head into the store to go to work. She had wanted to drop by on her way but you were in no position to allow that. Clearly.

You rushed off the phone as your chest heaved. You’d need to deal with the guilt of lying to her and brushing her off after.

Harry shook his head and grinned at you, “You okay?”

You nodded, “I think so. This thing is really good, though, Harry.”

It was. Once the pre-programmed selection started to pulse in heavy vibrations you grabbed Harry’s hands from your thighs and pulled him up to your mouth to kiss.

He laughed against your lips and used one of his hands to pull his pants down. You could tell he was stroking his cock as he kissed you but you, being the selfish girl you’d come to find out you were, you wanted him to come inside of you.

Pushing at his chest you reached down to pull the toy out, “Inside of me. I want your cock.”

Harry groaned and fumbled with his phone to turn off the vibrating toy and shut the app off. His cock hung heavy and angry as he turned back to you, getting to his knees and swiping his tip into your soaking wet crease, “You like my cock better than the new toy I bought you?”

His grin as he asked was cheeky. His cock was far larger and meatier. And it was attached to him. So of course you liked it more.

“God nothing compares to your cock, Mr. Styles. Now, fuck me.”

Harry shifted his head to the side and squinted at you, “Where are your manners?”

You bucked your hips up and pulled at his shirt, “Please, sir.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He smiled, keeping his eyes on yours as he pushed through your tight little entrance and moaned deeply, “That’s so good. God every time is better than the last,” his words were soft as he pulled back and slowly plunged in.

You couldn’t agree more. Every time you fucked it kept getting better. It was like you two were fusing and morphing into one. Like he knew all your spots and you knew all his. The connection was deep and more than physical. It was everything.

With his hands at your hips, keeping your pussy close to the edge of the couch Harry fucked into you as he kissed you hard. You’d gotten so wet, once again, that even the squeak of the couch couldn’t cover up the sound of your pussy getting fucked.

“Hear that? So juicy for me. You need this don’t you?” Harry pecked kisses down your jaw as he whispered into your skin.

“I need you, Harry. I always need you.”

The delicious rhythm Harry built had your tits bouncing and Harry’s balls swinging but it wasn’t enough. He was struggling with the angle. He pulled out and stood over you, taking your ankles into his hands, and pushed your feet up, pressing your thighs into your chest so you were folded nearly in half with your pussy exposed for him.

The initial plunge of his thick cock through your tight muscle had you whimpering and clawing for something to hold on to.

“Oh fuck!” Harry growled as he drove into you forcefully. The fit was tight and your grip on him, every inch he gave you, had his strong thighs shaking.

You loved it. Loved how thick and wide he felt, loved that he was already whimpering as he pounded you into the couch, loved that your pussy was doing that to him.

“You want my come, baby? Want me to fill you up again?”

You whined and nodded into your knee, which was pressed next to your face with how Harry was holding you down, “Please!”

You heard a moan from him and then felt him press onto your clit as he continued to plunge into you. He was breathing heavily. The angle was work for him. He had one foot on the floor and his other was on your couch as he fucked down into you, grinding himself in with a swivel of his hips every time he buried himself balls deep.

“Yeah? A greedy girl huh?” He panted, “Wants all my come in her tight hole. Wants to be filled up and fucked and bred, yeah?”

You grunted and felt tears roll down your face as you tried to relax into the position to let him completely take control of you and your body. With his fingers on your clit, your body naturally wanted to chase his movements and press into him further but he had you held down so tight you couldn’t move your limbs or your hips properly.

Harry’s cock massaged your inner walls with each tight thrust down into you. You felt every single bit of him filling you over and over again. His breaths were strangled and he began to groan loudly.

Suddenly he let go of your legs and kneed up to you on the couch, positioning himself over you and pulling your thighs over his hips as he rocked into you in a more intimate position so he could see your face and you could see his.

He looked down over you and brought a hand up to your face, “My pretty, baby. God, look at you,” he cooed as he gently placed his palm over your cheek, never ceasing the movements of his hips as he rocked into you.

You moaned, finally able to use your lungs and your voice properly, as you reached up and put your hands onto his face, “Harry, ohhh…” The feel of his pubic bone pressing into your clit at the new angle had you aching to come.

You watched him hover over you, fucking into you slower than he had been before. His face was flushed and you saw the veins in his neck strain as he gasped.

“Come in me. Please give me your come…” Your words came out broken and breathy but he understood you, keeping his eyes on yours.

“I will baby. Gonna give it to you again. Fertile pussy needs my come doesn’t she?”

Nodding you clenched around him and bucked your hips into his, “Yes!”

But Harry wasn’t going to just come like that. You knew he wouldn’t. He always wanted you to get yours first. His languid strokes, deep and meaningful, the drag of his hips into yours so you could feel him against your clit, the eye contact, his dirty words, “Be a good girl and come for me, baby. If you’re good I’ll stuff you full of my come again. Fuck it all into your tummy like you crave.”

You were already gasping and trembling with your heart thudding rapidly in your chest but his words pushed you over the edge. You panted and sucked in a sharp breath as your orgasm took over your limbs. Your head was spinning as you spasmed around his cock while he continued drilling into you with heavy, wet thrusts.

“Shit… just like that, baby. Good girl!” He coughed his words as he worked you through your ecstasy until his balls contracted and he began to come, letting your tight pussy milk him once again, drinking his come in until you were satisfied. Until he was properly drained, stuffed deep inside of you, panting and twitching as he dipped down to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around him as he gently laid over you, his lips against yours. He smoothed a palm over your thigh and kept himself buried in your guts until you both parted for air and laughed together.

“God Harry… I can’t get enough of you,” you breathed your words, and Harry’s broad grin as he looked down at you was loving and full of something like joy.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to feel like you’d had enough. I’ll keep giving until you decide you don’t want anymore.”

You tightened your thighs around him and shook your head, “Never gonna happen. Never gonna have enough. Always gonna want more of you.”

His pink lips quirked up on one side as he gazed over your hot face. You were sure you looked like hell. A sweaty mess, with ratty hair and no makeup.

But that wasn’t how Harry saw it. He looked at you and wondered what would have happened in his life if he’d have been born later, or you’d have been born earlier. Could you have fallen in love and started a family and then things would have been easier for you both? He looked at you and saw the prettiest girl, a smart and fun young woman that he was madly in love with, for better or for worse. He looked at your face and he felt nothing but peace and satisfaction when you looked back into his eyes. He hadn’t been so happy in a long time.

You pushed at him and laughed, “What? I look like I live on the streets don’t I?”

Harry shook his head and pressed his lips to yours before looking back down at you again, “No. You look like my love. My heart. Could use a brush, but you’re still gorgeous,” he laughed his words and you pushed at him again before he tackled you with his mouth and made your heart leap with adoration and affection and tender comfort. You couldn’t have been more at peace.

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b00kdiary · 3 months

Text

Stay With Me | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand reappears at the cabin four hours after he had gone on a mission- wounded and bleeding. Y/N has no choice but to help him, even if it means yanking out every ash arrow embedded in his wings by hand. But something Cassian once told her makes her re-think the line between pleasure and pain, and she will do anything to make it better for her High Lord.

‘Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?’

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image thoughts, blood and gore, and smut (Hint: Wing play)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART TWO

PART THREE

I couldn't stop pacing.

That's what I did when I was nervous, and on edge- I paced. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, until I wore through the carpet and my entire body was thrumming with dread.

It had been four hours.

Four hours since Rhysand left to track those Hybern soldiers through the forest, hoping to be led back to their camp. For several weeks we've been dealing with Hybern forces infiltrating our land and yet we had no idea what they were planning.

It was the unknown that had made Rhysand go out tonight.

I had insisted I come, to help, to watch his back, something- but with the heavy snow and rain, he had been adamant that it would be easier to fly alone. Though I knew it was an excuse to keep me here, safe, and unharmed, while he was out there risking his life.

And now he was missing.

Four hours of silence and I was starting to feel violently sick with worry. I contemplated leaving the cabin, trekking on foot through the forest in search of him, but with the weather so furious and the fact he had been flying not walking, I knew it would be futile.

And Rhysand would kill me if he knew I had gone after him, especially when he had specifically instructed me to stay here.

"Stupid, arrogant High Lord," I cursed under my breath and despite the log fire crackling before me and the layers I wore, I still shivered from the brutal cut of the cold wind. My heart seized at the thought of Rhys out there in the brunt of it.

Hybern soldiers were ruthless and their hatred of the Night Court, of Rhysand was known. They could do anything to him; ash arrows, Faebane, dark magic, and Mother only knows what other weapons they have we don't know about.

"If he thinks I'm going to sit here like some kind of damsel," I scowl, my hands shaking as I yank on my discarded sword belt and daggers, "Then he is a bigger idiot than I thought possible."

I try and let my anger bubble over and overtake my fear as I make my way toward the heavy wood door, the sound of the whistling wind and perilous skies getting louder the closer I get to it. I'm trembling as I grip the handle, yanking it open with effort, the hinges stiff with the cold.

I stumble back a step at the sight of a tall male slumped against the door pane- blood pooled around his feet, stark against the white snow.

"Rhysand!"

All thoughts eddy from my head at the sight of him- his skin pale and dull, his midnight hair in disarray, his armour torn and filthy, and an agonised grimace lining his lips. A groan slips from him when my hands come to his chest, and my stomach turns at the warm blood that coats my palms.

"Cauldron, Rhys," I gasp, my throat closing as I stumble back into the cabin, his body weight half-leaning on me and every step he takes is slow and staggered, his face twisting as I guided him back with me. "What happened?"

"Hybern soldiers are assholes," Rhys grits out, a rough laugh slipping past his lips, but the sweet sound soon melts into a pained hiss when I turn so I can slam the door shut behind us- and I see why he's bleeding so goddamn much.

"Rhy- Rhys," I stutter, my fingers tightening into his suit, his muscles rippling under my touch, every breath he takes deeper and faster than the last. "The arrows, holy shit, there's so many-"

Five.

He had five arrows embedded into his back and wings.

"Really? I didn't notice," He grins, his heavy head lifting and those violet eyes meeting mine- though upon seeing the ire and worry on my face, that grin falters, "Hey, c'mon don't look at me like that, I'm alright-"

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, his eyes screwing shut when I begin to move back toward the sofa and I try not to let my body lock up when his hands fall to my waist and hips, long, ringed fingers digging into my flesh for leverage.

"Huh, I knew you wouldn't listen to me," He scoffs out a laugh, half-amused, half-breathless and my face burns with heat when he runs his hands idly down my sides, grazing pointedly over my sword belt and daggers. "You know it's an offence to disobey your High Lord, right?"

"Well since you're wounded and I'm the only one here to help," I grit out sardonically, ignoring how close his face is to mine as I guide his front down onto the sofa, careful not to touch his wings as I move behind him, "I'm sure you'll find a way to forgive me."

I frown at the amount of blood seeping out from his wounds, and I can feel how rigid his body is under my palms- he always was good at hiding his true emotions, masking his pain with an arrogant smile, or teasing words.

My breathing is shallow as I climb onto the sofa behind him, my soft thighs brushing his strong ones and my heart racing as I settle on my knees. His wings are limp on either side of him, one drooping down to the floor and the other sprawled over the cushions.

"You need to rip them out, darling," Rhys muses gently from under me and as if sensing my worry, his voice has lost all sense of humour. "No need to be gentle, I'm a big boy, I can take it."

"We both know you're a big Illyrian baby, Rhys," I tease, though my voice is strained and when he shifts his head sideways, looking over his wide shoulders at me, I see the small smile tilting his lips too.

I swallow the lump in my throat, shifting forward and placing a trembling hand on his back. To the arrow embedded at the junction of his wing and spine.

His hand slips back and curls around my thigh, fingers sprawling around the flesh and digging in as if he were bracing himself. The touch is distracting but I focus on my fingers wrapping around the arrow, a few inches from the entry point- and I hate how Rhysand's body flinches at the soft touch.

"Come on, darling," Rhysand sighs, his grip tightening around my thigh as I release a long breath, "Amren's going to kill me if I get any more blood on these cushions-"

I rip it out mid-sentence- and Rhysand's whole body jolts as I tear the arrow free from his flesh, a grunt of pain muffling into the leather beneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whimper, my hand clamping down and applying pressure on the wound, the arrow discarded on the floor beside us. Rhysand trembles under me, his jaw locked so tight I can hear his teeth gritting together, "Shit Rhys, I'm sorry."

"It's- it's okay, it's okay," He pants, and I watch his face from the side, seeing him get paler and paler. He squeezes against my thigh, once, twice, and his eyes blink open, those violet eyes dark. "Keep going darling, you're doing so good, keep-keep going for me."

I feel the familiar burn of tears in my eyes as I lean forward, my fingers slippery with blood and gore as I curl my hold around the second arrow, this one just barely stuck near the very bottom of the left wing.

Ash arrows were notoriously dangerous, known for splintering within the flesh, one wrong move and Rhys would have pieces of the wood stuck in his wings and those would be near impossible for me to remove on my own.

I grit my teeth and pull, swift and brazen, not giving him or me a second to think about it. Again, Rhysand grunts, body viscerally jumping but he seems to bear the pain better the second time, his thighs clenching around mine for support.

"Forget what I said, I was wrong," I clear my throat, trying to force some ease and comfort into my tone as I run my hand up the muscles of Rhysand's back and I feel relief when he sighs, his body melting into my touch. "You're not a big Illyrian baby, you're a tough, strong male."

"What finally convinced you? The very manly way my body is shaking right now?" He released a long exhale, his mouth tugging into a smile and I can't help but laugh when his eyes glance back to meet mine. "Or the groans that keep slipping out no matter how hard I try to contain them?"

I laugh softly, my blood-stained hands running across the planes of Rhysand’s shoulders and back, the pad of my thumbs and forefingers circling around the stiff muscles, trying to get him to relax. He sighs, and his hand pulls against my thigh coaxing me higher up his body, closer than before.

"Nothing wrong with being vocal, Rhys, I would have thought five hundred years of existence would have taught you that," I run my finger across the membrane of his wing, feeling the soft, leathery texture as I move to the next arrow. "Females love to hear how you feel."

"Cruel, wicked thing," Rhysand mumbled, his breath hitching at the tender touch I grazed over his wings, and it was a very different sound to before. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Having me at your mercy."

I wrap my hand around the arrow stuck in the middle of his wing and his body tenses- knowing what was waiting. I frown, hating that he is in pain and unconsciously, my left hand moves to his other wing, and he gasps, eyes widening when I run the pad of my thumb over the talon at the tip- a spot I knew was sensitive.

I tear the arrow out of the right wing with one hand, while my other rakes down the curve of his left wing, my nails scratching softly against the tender flesh there. Rhysand groans, louder this time, and it's a sound that I feel through my body.

"Are you- are you trying to make it feel better, darling?" He asks quietly, his breaths loud in the silent room and his hand at my thigh caressing, his thumb swiping soothingly back and forth.

"Yes," I reply, equally as soft, and my heart is racing as I edge closer, my core and ass settling over one of his burning hot thighs. "Is it working?"

"Yes," He swallows, an audible sound and I see his Adam's apple bobble, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as I reach for the fourth arrow. "Yes, it is, don't- don't stop." There's a slight tremor in his voice, a neediness that makes my head spin.

His body vibrates under me, but for a completely different reason now and it seems the more my idle hands wander curiously over the dancing veins and soft membranes of his wings, the less control he has over himself.

"Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?" My voice is hoarse, and I ignore the sweat coating my skin and heat burning through me as I grab around the arrow, my shoulders bracing for the strength needed for this pull.

"Why are you and Cassian talking about the most sensitive parts of a male's wings?" He grits out, his thigh muscle tensing, and I feel it brush against my centre- wet and aching with need. A smile tugs at my lips at the darkness in his tone, that smile broadening when his wing twitches violently against my fingers.

"He also said that males can like having their wings touched during sex and that a brush against the right spot can make you climax, is that true?" His nails dig into my thigh at my whispered words, a moan slipping past his lips when I grip around the talon with a firm hold.

This time when I rip the arrow free, he doesn't feel the pain- too consumed and dizzy with pleasure.

"You're killing me, Y/N," Rhys chuckles, his body shaking with the laugh, a sound that travels through the air and over my skin like a phantom touch. I circle the heel of my palms into his shoulder blades, massaging out the tension and Rhys moans appreciatively, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest.

"Only one left, Rhys," I say encouragingly, and he mutters incoherently in agreement as I lean forward, the last arrow embedded in his upper back- much deeper than the rest. I frown, rising onto my knees, already missing the strength and heat of his thigh between my legs. "This one's gone all the way through, I'm going to have to dig it out the other side."

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any more fun," Rhys jeers, his hand grazing along my thigh as I sit up as if needing my touch as reassurance.

My eyes narrow at his remark and suddenly the blood and the arrows and his pained face hold no bearing with me, the sympathy vanishes- replaced by the anger that had me ready to march out into a storm to look for him.

"That's what happens when you go chasing the enemy with no backup," I mutter stiffly, and this time when I grab the arrow, I don't give Rhys any satisfaction or comfort- no, I break the arrow in two with an easy snap of the wrist, dropping the fragmented piece to the floor with a clink.

He winces, and when I hover above him, his head turns to look at me, a sheepish smile on his handsome face.

"I take it you're still upset with me then, darling," Rhys muses and the ting of humour in his words makes me scowl, my touch no longer soft or soothing, my body no longer enjoying the hard, perfect feel of him.

“Turn around,” I order, dismissing him as I rise from him and onto my feet. His hand reaches for me, trying to grab me, a yearning in his touch, but I move away from him stiffly. “I need to dig out the arrow from the front.”

He purses his lips at my cold words, and I almost feel bad for him when he hisses in pain, his muscular, lean body so frail as he rolls onto his back, his sore wings moving slow and deliberately, barely able to lift higher than his shoulders before sagging back down again.

“Y/N,” Rhys sighs, a deep frown tugging at his lips as he drops his head against the armrest. I stare at him in silence, seeing him splayed out before me, chest rising and falling in harsh waves and those violet constellations unwavering upon me.

"You could have been killed, Rhysand," I grit out, and I hate the tears I feel prickling my eyes as I stare at him, at the blood coating my hands, and the sofa and the floor, the wound puncturing through his left pectoral. "If you don't trust me to have your back-"

"Don't say that, never say that" He rises faster than I can protest, and my hands shoot up to stop him, but he doesn't relent, his face harsh with discomfort but his eyes burn with determination as he sits up. "I trust you more than anyone, more than myself, don't ever think that Y/N."

"Alright, okay Rhys," I sigh, shaking my head and my hands are weak as I place them on his solid shoulders, trying to guide him to lay back down. His eyes never once leave mine and I can see the hurt in them- that I would even think such a thing. "I'm sorry, just lay down, you're still hurt."

His face tightens severely, and he looks so at odds with the male known for his easy smiles and bright stary eyes- but he obliges me as I guide him back down. His hands curve up my thighs and rest on my hips, and he doesn’t speak as he yanks me down, dragging me so that I straddle his waist.

“Rhys-“ I suck in a sharp breath when he settles me, forcing my weight to sit atop him, my thighs clamped around his hips, my core settled just under his belly button and his calloused hands kneading the flesh at my sides.

"I told you to stay here because I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," He whispers, eyes unbearably soft, and his touch igniting something hot in me, "If they did something to you if you got hurt... I don't know what I would do, Y/N."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I bring my hands forward to the front of his leathers, my fingers stumbling as I unbuckle the belts and slip off the buttons one by one, revealing the acres of tan skin and the dark whorls painted across his chest.

I gnaw on my cheek as I tug back the shirt, Rhysand silently watching every action, every breath I take, and my face falls at the wound leaking blood above his left pectoral, the arrowhead peeking through the gore.

“And what if something worse than this happened to you?" I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion and when my eyes meet Rhysand’s again, his face tightens at the tears in my eyes, “What do you think I would do? How would I be able to live with it?"

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rhysand swallows thickly and I watch as he grits his teeth, his body pulsing when I run my fingers over the wound, gauging how deep I have to feel, how best to remove the arrow in one piece.

“I need to dig it out with my fingers to get it to the surface first,” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick prolonged silence and taut tension between us, “It’s going to hurt, badly.”

“I know,” He locks his jaw, the strong angle sharp and I see the grim anticipation on his face when I move my index finger and thumb into position over the exit point. But without speaking, I move my body, lower, until my core settles over the front of his breeches- over his long, hard length.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-“ His breath hitches at the contact, his violet eyes widening and latching onto mine in surprise.

“I want to,” I whisper, need spreading through me at the feel of him under me, the smell of his arousal and mine wafting through the air, making me dizzy. “I’m trying to make it feel better, remember?”

I roll my hips, ever so slightly, and the electricity that shocks through my clit at the contact makes me gasp. Rhysand grunts, a low, heady sound, and the way he lifts his hips up to dig his cock into me is almost desperate.

“Cauldron,” He curses as I dig my fingers into his wound, the metal sharp and hot against my fingertips as I try and get leverage around it. His face twists but when I rock my hips again, dragging down his length, his pain dissolves into something carnal. “Cauldron, Y/N-“

“There we go,” I whisper, my fingers gripping around the arrowhead firmly, twisting it a few inches higher so that it protrudes out of his chest. I bite my lip to contain any sounds as I rut against him, my underwear and trousers soaked through, seeping into Rhysand’s slacks, making it easier to rub over his twitching length. “I’ve got it!”

He moans- the most erotic, lewd sound rumbles from him, low and loud, echoing through the room. I pant as he runs his hands over my body, over my thighs and hips and waist, kneading my stomach and love handles, before settling over my ass.

His nails carve crescent moons into the flesh as he palms me, the control he was so used to wielding in the bedroom not dwindling as he guided me back and forth faster and harder against him.

"This is the best pain I've ever felt, darling," Rhysand purrs, his voice like melted chocolate against my senses and the fire burning between my legs fans at his words. I lean forward, my breasts brushing his chest and my stomach settling against his- and I run my free hand over his sprawled wings.

"I'm going to pull it out now, yeah?" I mumble against his cheek, and I know his head is spinning, the pain and pleasure so at odds, so damning that his canines flash at me, his fingers bruising against my ass and his hips jolting up violently to meet mine.

“Do it, daring,” He commands, the role of the High Lord imprinted into him no matter the situation and almost as if it were programmed in me to obey, I kiss his cheek tenderly- and yank the arrowhead free in one go. “Shit, shit-“

I drag my centre over the tip of his cock, rolling my hips in fast, sharp strokes and Rhysand crumbles at the action- his eyes screw shut, his body stills like stone, and the filthiest, rawest cry tears from his lips, louder and fragmented when I rub at the tip of his talon with my palm.

I whimper at the feel of every hard inch of him cemented against me, the warmth of his hot seed leaking out and soaking his slacks, mixing our arousals, getting messier the more I rub against him.

“Y/N,” He moans my name into the crook of my neck, his teeth scraping against my pule point and his hands curling around my ass, forcing my hips to stop. Instead, he clamps my body flush to his, my tits pressed to his chest, my face buried in his soft hair, and I feel his cock pulsing and tremoring hard against me as he rides out his orgasm.

I feel Rhysand laugh roughly against my neck, the sound of his ragged breathing and the erratic rise and fall of his muscular chest against me making me sigh. His hands don’t loosen, in fact, they get tighter, guiding me until I’m laying flat, his arms wrapping over me and keeping me to his chest.

He was holding me like he didn’t want to let go.

There’s a long silence as I lay with him, our bodies melting together and his touch unrelenting upon me, holding onto my flesh for dear life, feeling me against him and sighing at the comfort. His breathing starts to deepen, turning heavy and I blink, shifting to move my weight off him.

“Don’t,” He grumbles, his arms drawing me back to his chest, a deep groan escaping him as he shifts so that my body slips between the gap of the sofa and his side. His eyes flutter closed again, and I watch his face ease into serenity as I lay my cheek against his shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

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@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

A/N:

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

Should I make a part two??? part two here

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lovingmattysposts · 1 month

Text

Exes

pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: You and Chris broke up over a month ago, but things haven't been the same. You missed him dearly and you knew you messed up. So what happens when you see those familar eyes staring at you from across the room?

warnings: smutty smut. p in v, male recieving, female recieving, some questionable positions, lol.

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I could feel him. I could feel him as if he was breathing down my neck. Only, it wasn't his breath. It was just his eyes. But they held enough power that I felt like he was standing over me.

I swallowed as I gripped the glass in my hand harder as I focused on just not looking back at him. I swallowed as I stared up at the man in front of me.

"So?" He smiled down at me. I blinked a few times, before shaking my head. "Sorry what?" I asked not even hearing what he just said. His smile altered as he looked down at me. He looked down, shifting on his feet.

"I said you're really pretty--" He said smiling. I forced a smile and nodded. "And I asked if you were free on Saturday" He smiled tilting his head up. My mouth parted as I looked at him. I swallowed.

"Uh...yeah Saturday" I said shaking my head. I couldn't help but turn my head. His blue eyes staring at me again. His stance was unsure as he gripped his cup and his brothers spoke next to him. His eyes didn't leave mine when they connected.

He wasn't giving me a mischievous look, or even an angry one. He was just simply looking at me. It almost hurt worse than if he was angry. I couldn't handle this right now.

I looked back at the boy in front of me.

"I'm sorry, can you excuse me for a second?" I asked placing my hand on his arm. His expression turned surprised. "Uh, yeah for sure--" He nodded as I turned on my feet and walked towards the back door.

I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn't the alcohol. I pushed the door open feeling the cold air cascade over me, almost like a breath of fresh hair. Almost.

We were still broken up. We still hadn't spoken. I stilled missed him. So much that I feel his presence over my whole body when he's across the room. It hurt so much. So fucking much.

I sighed as I pressed my back against the brick, sliding down it slightly as I tried to talk myself down.

You're okay.

You're gonna be okay.

The worse part is that the breakup was my fault. It was a stupid fight. A stupid fucking fight, and I overreacted. I know I did. But to go running back, I couldn't swallow that.

Not because it was embarrassing to admit I was wrong, it's because he didn't really fight me on the breakup either.

I remember his face, it haunts me in my fucking dreams. A look of confusion and hurt that quickly turned to anger and a quick "Fine" and the door slammed. And that was it.

I sighed as I pushed my hair out of my face.

I think it came from the rooted trauma from our previous relationships. Too scared to admit we had fallen in love and too scared to get hurt because of it.

We had told each other we loved the other, it rolling off the tounge so easily. I always meant it, I didn't know if he did. I thought he did.

But I haven't spoken to him since that night. The worst part is we were in the same friend group. For the first two weeks, he didn't even look at me. And it fucking killed me.

Sleepless night wondering what he was doing. If he even missed me. It was eating me alive. He won't even talk to me. I thought we were in love, but he hasn't even called.

I hung my head, setting down my drink as my eyes watered. My chin wobbled as I tried not to cry. I felt pathetic. This was pathetic.

I heard the door creak open, making me snap my vision over to the person walking outside. I quickly wiped the tears that were starting to form.

I saw his brown floppy hair move in my line of vision. His blue eyes staring down at me, a concerned look on his face.

Chris.

I swallowed feeling the goosebumps coming over my skin again. I really didn’t want him to see me like this.

"Hey" He breathed standing over me. I didn't look up at him as I looked at my feet. "Hey" I whispered. He shifted on his feet as the sounds of passing cars on the street behind the house filled the silence.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. I leaned my head against the brick and looked out in front of me.

"Are you?" I whispered, a loaded question to which he didn’t reply.

He didn't say anything as he sighed and sat down next to me. His head hit the brick behind him and he turned his head to look at me. I did the same as him, looking at him.

It was weird being this close to him again. It was like looking at a stranger I was in love with. His eyes glanced over my lips.

He closed his eyes and turned his head facing back forward, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't mean to stare--I just--" He breathed leaning his head back, I just watched him. "I'm sorry if it pissed you off, it wasn't my intention. You're allowed to talk to other guys, I just--" He bit his lip. "I just hate seeing it" He said shaking his head.

I shook my head. "It didn't piss me off" I mumbled. He looked over at me. "I didn't--I just....I don't know" I whispered looking down at my hands. He just stared at me. Silence came between us.

"Your nails are pretty" He said softly looking down at my hands. I smiled down at my lap.

"Thanks Chris" I whispered. He nodded. The silence came again. God this was painful.

"What was his name?" Chris asked tracing his finger on the concreate below us. I opened my mouth to reply, but closed it as I thought. He looked up at me. I looked up narrowing my eyebrows.

"Uhh..." I said shaking my head. Fuck, what was his name?

"I don't think I even asked" I said shaking my head. He smiled and let out a small chuckle. I let out a laugh and hung my head. I shook my head.

"He asked me out" I said blankly. Chris didn't look up at me. I sighed and closed my eyes. "You should go...if that's what you want" Chris mumbled quietly. I looked over at him. He just stared up at me.

"It's not that easy Chris" I said softly. He pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, it's not" He shook his head.

I wanted to tell him I missed him so badly, but I didn't know if that's what he wanted to hear. I didn't know if he moved on already or not. I knew nothing about his life for the last month and it was killing me.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice broke me from my thoughts. I nodded as he peered up at me. "Have you--" He bit his lip as if was contemplating if he wanted to ask me.

"Have you hooked up with anyone since we've broken up?" He asked almost as if he was scared for the answer. I felt the embarrassment wash over me as my face turned red. I looked down, biting back an awkward laugh.

"Kind of" I whispered. He didn't say anything, still tracing his finger across the rough concrete. "But not really" I mumbled shaking my head. He looked up at me.

"What does that mean?" He asked. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"I don't wanna tell you" I shook my head. "It's so fucking embarrassing" I said leaning back against the brick. His eyes followed me. A smile crept on his lips as he watched me. I glanced over at him, smiling slightly.

He pushed my shoulder. "Come on, tell me" He smiled as I shifted from his touch. It was the first time he's touched me since we've broke up. I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head.

"Who was it?" He asked. I sighed closing my eyes, before looking up at him. He just looked down at me.

"Tyler" I admitted. His smile altered into a straight line. He stared at me for a second before looking off.

"Chris" I pulled his arm. "No, it's okay. You can hook up with whoever. It's just Tyler he's---" He shook his head. I pressed my hands against my face. "Chris come on" I sighed. He bit his lip.

"It's not embarrassing Y/n. Tyler he's good looking--I guess. I mean he's my...friend" Chris shrugged. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on Chris, you guys are not friends" I defended myself. I just looked at the ground.

"Tyler---" I shook my head. "I know it's not embarrassing, that's not what I'm talking about" I shook my head. He looked up at me.

"What happened then?" He asked softly. I groaned closing my eyes.

"Chris, you'll never look at me the same" I shook my head.

"Y/n, I've seen you face down in a puddle of your own puke. I think we’re past the whole uncomfortable phase" He chuckled. My eyes shot open.

"Chris! You swore you'd never bring that up" I said pushing him. He smiled.

"It's okay--you've probably seen me worse, I still love-" He paused. My smile slightly dropped. He froze and let out a breath. I bit my lip and looked forward. I had to get out of this awkward silence.

"We were making out" I explained. He looked over at me. I sighed, not believing I was about to admit this to Chris.

"When?" He asked suddenly. I looked over at him. "Sorry, continue" He shook his head, looking down. I let out a breath.

"It was like two weeks ago" I shook my head. He nodded looking at his feet. "We were making out and we were against a wall---"

"I don't need every single detail" Chris snapped. I looked over at him.

"Right" I shook my head. "Not against a wall" I said shaking my head. He let out a hard breath.

"Did you have sex with him?"

"Would you let me finish?"

He smiled slightly before he nodded. "And he--" I closed my eyes shaking my head. Chris stared at me.

"Was his dick small?" Chris smiled. I pushed him laughing, making him laugh. "No--" I laughed. I sighed. "He stuck his tonuge in my mouth and I--" I cringed remembering the moment. Chris's eyes didn't leave mine.

"You what?"

"I threw up okay?" I said shaking my head. His mouth parted.

"He stuck his tonuge in my mouth and I quite literally puked, right there on the floor next to him" I breathed shaking my head. He let out a breath, smiling.

I groaned and pressed my hands to my face.

"Wow" Chris breathed. I looked over at him, he was holding in a laugh. I pushed him making him bust out in laughter.

"I'm sorry--I'm sorry" He bit down on his smile. I rolled my eyes smiling. "Alright alright" I mumbled shifting my feet below me. He sighed and leaned back.

I glanced over at him.

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

I looked down, tracing my fingers over my legs.

"Hooked up with anyone else?" I asked softly, not really prepared to be on the other side of this equation.

He let out a breath. "I--" He tilted his head.

"I tried to" He mumbled. I looked up at him, furrowing my eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He groaned closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"I'm not telling you" He breathed. My mouth fell open.

"I just told you that another guy tried to kiss me and I threw up, and yours is too embarrassing?" I asked glaring at him smiling. He smiled and nodded.

"I--can't tell you" He said shaking his head. "It's more embarrassing than throwing up?" I chucked. His eyes widened. "Yes" He said chuckling. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You literally sat in my bed and begged me to let you call me mommy and this--"

"Woah! Hey." His face turned red and he shook his head. I chuckled and shook my head as he took in a breath. I bit back a smile.

"Sorry, maybe that was too far" I smiled. He smiled and shook his head.

"I thought it was hot" I shrugged making him chuckle. I looked over at him, he met my eyes. I pursed my lips.

"Who was it?" I asked softly. He just looked at me, before looking down at his feet.

“Taylor" He said. I raised my eyebrows and looked away nodding. "Taylor" I emphasised nodding. He sighed next to me.

"She's always wanted you--Chris I literally told you-" I shook my head.

"Y/n, don’t. Please." He mumbled. I let out a breath, flattening my back against the wall, taking in a breath. Y/n, calm down.

"I was wondering why she stopped showing up when we all hung out" I mumbled.

"Yeah, I don't think she really wants to be around me anymore" He mumbled shaking his head. I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows. He blinked at me for a second before sighing.

"Okay fine I-" He bit his lip. "She was over at the house hanging out with Nick and it had been a week since we ended and--"

"A week?" I asked staring at him. He blinked at me. "Can you just listen to the story please?" He sighed. I nodded pulling my knees to my chest as he spoke.

"And she came into my room and we started kissing" He shook his head. I swallowed the lump in my throat picturing Taylor on top of Chris.

My fucking Chris.

I hope she has insurance on her car.

"And we started to like--" He closed his eyes. I clenched my jaw.

"You had sex with her" I stated. He sighed. "No, I didn't" He corrected me. I looked up at him.

"She wanted to like....." He bit his lip. He glanced over at me, before closing his eyes. "You know like...." He shook his head.

"What Chris? Suck your dick? Is it that hard to say?" I snapped. He opened his eyes and sighed. I turned.

"Bitch probably couldn't even fit it in her mouth" I mumbled to myself. He chuckled. "Y/n" He sighed. I shrugged.

"What? Her mouth is small, and she never shuts the fuck up it's like she's constantly like wamp wamp--" I started to mimick her.

"Y/n, I'm not done" He chuckled. I turned and looked at him, leaning back. "Yeah sorry, tell me about the amazing blowjob you got from a friend of ours" I glared at him. He groaned.

"Y/n, I didn't" He snapped.

I blinked at him. "What do you mean?" I asked after a few seconds. He looked forward, his face twisted. He glanced over at me before looking back forward.

"I couldn't--" He sighed closing his eyes.

"My dick wouldn't get hard" He admitted. I blinked at him before tucking my lips in my mouth to keep myself from smiling. I turned my head. He looked over at me.

"Hey"

I busted out laughing before covering my mouth.

"I'm sorry, no sorry--That's not--That's not funny" I shook my head. He smiled and shook his head, looking down. I smiled down at him.

"No maybe it is kinda funny” I mumbled. “Because, I never had that problem" I shrugged. He pushed my shoulder, shaking his head.

"Yeah it was....it was quite literally mortifying" He shook his head. I smiled and shook my head.

"It's not" I whispered. He just looked over at me, letting out a breath. I swallowed letting out a breath.

"I--" He shook his head. I looked up at him. "Really miss you" He breathed looking down at his feet. I just looked at him.

"And I don't know if that's stupid to admit, or if you're not feeling that way too, but I do. I really do" He shook his head. I just watched him as he leaned against his elbows and looked off.

I reached over and pressed my hand to the side of his face before pulling his face to mine connecting our lips.

He froze against me as I moved my lips against him, but then his hand came to my waist as he kissed me back, pulling me closer to him.

Fuck, I missed this feeling.

He leaned down to kiss me harder for a second before pulling away.

We both breathed heavily staring at each other. "I'm so stupid for losing you" I whispered looking at him. A smile came to his face before he looked down, his hand running up my arm.

My eyes met his.

I moaned as his hands came over my sides and his lips attacked my neck, biting down hard.

"You smell so good" He mumbled his hands gripping my dress at the side, pulling it up over my hips.

I didn’t even feel the way the handle of the door was digging into my back. Not with the way he pressed himself against me.

I moaned and arched my back wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“I missed your sounds…so pretty” He whispered before meeting my eyes and smashing his lips onto mine. A rough, needy, I missed you, kiss. I pushed him back off the door as we tumbled towards the bed.

He pulled me under him, never disconnecting our lips. He moved back down to my neck as he pulled down the straps of my dress.

“I’m sorry—I should have never—“ I mumbled but his hand came up to my face and covered my mouth to keep me from speaking as his lips covered my neck.

“I know you’re sorry. We’re past that. I’m just going to show you how much I missed you” He whispered before pulling the bottom of my dress up and scaling down my body. I just watched him.

My eyes widened before he pushed my legs apart and pressed his lips to the inside of my thighs.

God, I missed his lips. So soft.

“Missed your legs” he mumbled against my thigh. I bucked my hips towards his face and his lips left my leg. He pushed my hips down.

“Don’t get greedy, I’m taking my time with you” He breathed staring down at me. I stared up at him. “Yeah? How much time?” I whispered.

“About one month, two days, and 5 hours worth of time” He breathed and connecting our lips again before I even had time to process what he said.

He kissed my lips hungrily, like he was earlier. I was too. I had almost forgotten what his lips tasted like. Almost. I remember as soon as he pushed my tongue in my mouth.

I moaned at the taste. He smiled against me.

God, no one was ever going to be him.

He pulled back.

“We’re back together now right?” He breathed attempting to catch his breath as he looked down at me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his lips back to mine. I couldn’t get enough.

“Are you dumb?” I breathed kissing him back. He smiled against me. I could kiss him all day long if he’d let me. I wanted to taste every part of him.

But the pulsing between my legs made me realize the kiss needed to be cut short soon.

I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Please, Chris” I whispered. He smiled and pressed his lips to my cheek.

“Just as needy as I remember” He smiled. I pushed him over and straddled him. “Yeah? And I bet your dick is as hard as a rock” I said raising my eyebrows.

“How about you find out?” He challenged. I smiled before running my hand over his stomach. He let out a breath. I smiled up at him as he closed his eyes.

I ran my hand over him against his jeans.

I was right to say the least.

“Taylor couldn’t make you feel like this could she?” I breathed as I pressed down. He moaned pushing against my hand.

“Y/n” he breathed his eyes screwed shut. I smiled before fumbling with the buckle on his jeans.

He grabbed my hands.

“No, you first” He said. In one swift motion, I was pinned down under him again. I struggled against his grip.

“No, I you first” I said looking up at him. He chuckled.

Only two people who desperately craved each other would fight over who could get who off first.

“I fucking missed you, my love”

“I missed you more” I whispered back. He pressed his lips against mine, softer than before and released my hands.

“But I’m touching you first” He breathed and my arms were pinned again. I sighed before I stopped resisting. He released my hands when he noticed my lack of resistance and pulled my dress over my head.

He pressed his hands to my cheeks and gave me another passionate kiss before his lips trailed down my body. I squirmed underneath his slow touch, it was killing me.

I hadn't done anything since the breakup. It's like my entire body went cold and rejected any other form of pleasure since he wasn't the one giving it to me. So, his lips trailing down my stomach had me arching against him.

He finally made it down to where I wanted him and in one quick motion he grabbed my legs and flipped me over onto my stomach. I yelped as I fell first face into the pillow.

I went to look back at it him but before I could turn my head he grabbed my knees and lifted me up, and I had to place my hands to brace myself so I didn't fall on my face and break my neck.

"Chris-" I began to question but was cut off when he licked a stripe against me. I whined and gripped the sheets. His hands squeezed my legs as he hummed against me. "Missed you so much" He mumbled against me sending vibrations through me.

I couldn't speak all I did was whine as his mouth moved against me. From this position, I wasn't lasting long. I took hard long breaths against the pillow. His mouth moved against me the way he knew drove me crazy. Slow and sensual. Over and over.

His tongue moved slow inside of me. It drove a low moan through me. It was embarrassing how fast the build up was. I whined.

"Close-Close---" I began to breath as I pushed against him. He smiled against me. Smirked. I wanted scold him if I could think. He moved faster and I screamed before I released all over his face. I let out a breath as I collasped against the bed.

"Come on, so fast baby? You used to last longer than that, Seems like you missed me" He leaned over me and whispered against my ear. I could barley see. I didn't reply all I could do was try to catch my breath. I heard him fumbled with his belt before it hit against the floor.

I turned my head turned to look behind me at him as he pushed his pants down. "More?" I panted against the pillow. His head fell back as he palmed himself against his boxers.

"You lasted 30 seconds, that didn't count" He panted. I glared at him before flipping under him, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him to the bed. I climbed over him.

"That's because I didn't get off when we were apart. I don't get to touch myself, you don't either" I looked down at him before grabbing his arms and pinning them above his head. He smiled up at me.

"I missed my girl so much" He panted before lifting his head. I chuckled before pressing my lips against his breifly. He tilted his head back.

"I need those pretty nails wrapped around me, please" He shifted under me. I smiled as I traced my nails across his face and under his chin. I felt him harden under me.

"You know why I picked this nail color don't you?" I pressed my lips to his ear. He whined. "I know red is your favorite color on me" I whispered before dragging my nails down his chest. His chest rose and fell.

"Please" He whispered as his hands came over his face.

I smiled as I hooked my fingers under his boxers. He let go of my breath as I released him. I stared down at him. Fuck, did it get bigger?

"Y/n" He breathed under his hands from my pause. Fuck, right. My hands came over his before I pressed my lips to his tip softly. He moaned quietly. He pulsed under my touch, already leaking precum.

I pressed my lips down him. "Are you in pain baby?" I whispered. He just moaned. I smiled before sinking my mouth over him.

"Fuck, Y/n" His hand went to the back of my head, pressing my head down to take all of him. I moaned against his taste.

He twitched in my mouth as he panted out breaths as he guided my head. My hands wrapped around what I couldn't fit. He looked down at me.

"You look so pretty around me, so pretty" He breathed as I looked up at him. He pushed up against my mouth. I gagged when he hit the back of my throat. "That's--it. Fuck" He shook as I countiued my pace and he continued to push up against me.

I almost choked when my nose hit his lower stomach. I felt him twitch inside me and he gripped my hair and pulled me off him. I wiped my mouth and furrowed my eyebrows.

"Why--" I protested. He grabbed my arm throwing me under him and flipping me.

"I'm not finishing in your mouth" He pulled me against his chest. I turned and looked at him. "You just didn't want to finish in 30 seconds" I teased. His hand came around my throat.

"I suggest you shut it and take it like a good girl who missed me" He pressed his lips against my neck as he spread my legs apart with his knees. I attempted to swallow.

"You missed me more" I choked. He chuckled.

"Wanna see how much more?" He whispered before he pushed into me. I took in a breath as I leaned against his chest. He pulled out, barley giving me time to adjust before slamming back into me.

"Chris!" I whined leaning my head back against his shoulder. He kissed the side of my face softly, as if he wasn't destorying my body. My knees shook and his hand came around my waist to hold me up.

"You can take it, don't act like you can't" He breathed as he pushed into me again, harder. I cried out from the impact.

"Chris" I panted, putting my hand on the back of his neck behind me. "I know, I know" He whispered kissing my neck as he countiuously pushed deeper, making me feel every, single, inch.

"So perfect for me, stretching so good for me" He moaned. I clenched against him from his words. "Fuck-" He bit down on my shoulder.

“Mine”

He pushed harder

“Mine”

Faster.

“Chris” I felt the air in my lungs leave. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out as my vision got blurry.

"Please" I cried. "What? What do you want my love?" He whispered. I gripped his hair, pulling on it. He moaned as he quickened his pace.

"Come with me" He said quickly and hit a particularly brutal thrust and I snapped. A few seconds later he did to. I fell forwards on my hands and he pulled out before I felt his arms come around me, pulling me into him.

We both caught our breath and I blinked my eyes open. He smiled down at me. I shook my head letting a chuckle escape my lips. He laughed lightly and brushed his hands through my hair.

"That was--" I shook my head.

"The best sex we've ever had?" He asked raising his eyebrows. I smiled and pressed my forehead against his chest. His arms tightened around me.

"You know the best part about these walls being paper thin?" He asked making my eyes shoot open.

"It's that the jackass with the button up shirt that thinks he's taking you out on Saturday, just heard you screaming my name" He chuckled. I looked up at him before pushing his chest, shaking my head.

He pulled me back towards him.

"I do love you, and I should have never let what happen--happen. I missed the fuck out of you" He whispered looking down at me. I smiled and leaned up pressing my lips to his.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have either" I mumbled against his lips. He smiled. He sat up before grabbing his shirt.

"So my place or yours?" He asked looking down at me. I sat up pulling the covers with me as I scanned the floor for my dress.

"Yours" I stated as I grabbed the dress.

We walked out of the room, Chris's hand grasping mine. I looked up to see Nick and Matt leaning against the wall at the end of the hall, staring. My eyes widened as Chris dragged me towards them.

"So you two are back together clearly" Nick pointed between us. I looked towards the ground. "Yeah" Chris breathed staring at Nick. I bit back a smile. Matt chuckled and shook his head.

"I'll meet you guys back at the house?" Chris asked passing them and pulling me against him, leaning down and kissing the inside of my neck. I shook my head as I tried not to laugh. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Nice to see you again, y/n" Matt waved. I waved and shook my head as Chris drug me out of the house, fast.

#nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo

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stararch4ngelqueen · 20 days

Text

A Spoonful of Honey

Jason Todd/pregnant fem!reader (cause why not, I started reading the adventures comic so silly Jason is just on my mind as much as big beefy himbo acting like a baby over taking medicine. Chat I’ve been through it these past months, so this isn’t proofread)

Time Written - 11:05 p.m

The morning was cold, dreadfully cold, with a humid fog blanketing the dreary skies, blurring the atmosphere in a quiet haze. The temperature reached forty degrees at the highest around the late evening, giving those who had no business being outside a perfect excuse to remain indoors.

You basked in this opportunity to bring out your gold handle, cream colored dutch oven. Soft cardigan sleeves pushed up to your elbows to cut vegetables for a hearty dinner.

Slow, rugged feet trudged into the kitchen in the midst of you sautéing a rainbow assortment of veggies in butter and oil, dressed in his ‘plain ol’ civilian clothing’, a muted gray hoodie pulled over his head.

A sort throat was how it started; signifying the side effects to his nightly routine. Vigorous exercise could only help so much to fight off the chill, but with temperatures dropping incredibly low, sweat could nearly freeze on skin shortly after it’s been secreted.

The cold nearly nipped a permanent flush to his chiseled cheeks, kissing a sprinkle of color on his nose. He looked as exhausted as he did the previous night, when he first arrived home with a short cough and occasional clear of his throat.

Jason was sick, in the beginning stages of a cold. He’s not even bothering to hide it, yet continued to insist it wasn’t as bad as he led it on to become.

“You’re makin’ soup?” he asked. A comforting, light pressure of broad muscle against your back. Warm hands roaming from their soft placement along your hip dips roam forward, rustling along the fabric of your plush sweater, palms finally settling snug over your stomach.

“Mhm.” You nod, settling one of your hands over his interlaced fingers. “Chicken. With potato, and a ton of vegetables you like.”

“Mmm,” he hums, lightly sniffing the delectable curls of seasoned steam from your spice additions. “Smells incredible, ma.”

“Thank you. Good for the cold,” you comment, feeling satisfied at your seasoned sauté of protein and vegetables. You glance over your shoulder, smiling a little at his calm, droopy expression. “And colds.”

“Wow. Funny.” He murmurs per your amusement, taking over in reaching for the box of broth you set aside.

“You looked a little under the weather. Just wanted to help you feel a little better.” You reply after nodding in thanks for his aid, snapping open the seal to the box.

“You’re always taking care of me.” He exhales, his head tilting to kiss you on the cheek. He sounds grateful for the consideration, but he’s not very surprised by it.

You always had a tendency to spoil him. It’s just been your nature since the minute he first knew you.

“How’s the little one doing?” he asks, thumbs brushing light ovals over the soft mound of your protruding bump. Barely the size of an overripe grapefruit, or an underripe honeydew.

“Fine. No complaints,” you continue while pouring in the chicken broth. “Though, I’m sure the baby’s convinced that papa is doing a terrible job not resting up.”

Of course, he says nothing of it to confirm or deny. As if there was anything to deny, you could hear it in his slightly nasally tone. His fingers continue their gently ministrations, his eyes seemingly fixated on your actions, or unfocused as his mind trails off to space.

“Jay.”

“Hm?” His head slightly perks, leaving you to instantly assume the latter.

“It’s only been four months. You won’t feel much at four months.”

Maybe it’s faint arrogance to the doctor’s words. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he thinks that he can feel their baby shifting and wriggling around inside. He never thought of it before until it occurred to him one day, entering his mind at first as a silly thought before turning into a strong fixation.

“What, are you expecting it to come out and give you a high five?”

“Shut up.” He grunts, earning you a smirk.

“Couch,” you instruct, your gentle squeeze of your hand on his forearm combatting your firm tone. “Dinner’s almost done. Go relax.”

“Alright.” He’s quick to agree, yet his actions say otherwise. For a man who’s known by others to sulk, in your doting presence he reverts to a state a comfortable serenity, regardless of this mild illness weighing heavy on his tired bones. Regardless of your ever so heartwarming instruction, he retaliates with gentle backlash, consisting of third grade retorts and heavy groans. All in good fun, merely poking at your funny bones to catch a glimpse of a smile.

He moves his hand in little circles against your belly, waiting for his baby to respond. While he doesn’t feel any kicks just yet, he’s excited just thinking about all the times they have to come.

As much as you loved every ounce of physical touch, the slightest pet peeve of him not doing as you requested for his own good irked your mind. “Jason. You gotta move.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, “I’m fine right where I am.”

“You can play with the baby after you eat, Jason,” you insist. “You gotta eat, take some medicine, and rest. You can’t take medicine until you’ve eaten first.”

“I bet you the baby’s hungry, too.” Such sweet words from his mouth nearly had you melting on the spot. Already a doting father in waiting, how could you not feel your heart flutter?

“Jason,” you insist once more, your spoon resting on the rim of the cooking pot.

“Don’t wanna,” he replies, sounding both annoyed and amused by such insistence. His warm body never separated from yours for a mere five to seven minutes after that, your palm reaching up and back to catch his cheek, meeting the warm skin of his flushed face.

“You ever notice that you get grouchy during a cold—“

“I’m not grouchy right now though—”

“—the baby wouldn’t want their papa to be grouchy.”

“And you’re being a little mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You sounds surprised, though you’re smiling wide the entire conversation.

“Yes, you.”

“I could never.”

He doesn’t look at you though, his voice sounding playful once more. “You’re being super mean, trying to make me eat and take medicine and everything. The audacity, ma.”

You scoff as you closes the pot, turning your full bodied attention to Jason.

You smile, adoring your sick beloved, the father of your unborn baby gazing down at you with exhausted, lovestruck teal eyes. He always looked so cute, especially sick with a cold. Especially with the mentality of thinking he can do what he wants at this moment, thinking he’s said all the right words to coerce you.

“Good. That’s called love, now gooo.”

He sighs, and he’s really not looking forward to it. The idea of eating just doesn’t sound appealing right now anymore, nor does taking the medicine. Either way, the coziness of his woman wrapped in pearl colored cashmere with a cozy smile finally allured him towards the promising comfort of the living room couch, a temporary respite.

Inevitably, He left you to finish, granting the kitchen vocal silence for the next twenty minutes, apart from the soft drum of heavenly soup coming to a boil. Only when you come to find him did you see him flopped on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes to block all means of light.

You beckon him with a bowl of warm soup settling on the coffee table, alongside the eventual promise of lemon balm tea with a spoonful of crystallized honey.

“I don’t even feel that sick,” he grunts as he sits up, his voice starting to get a little hoarse from him talking (and complaining). Let the big guy say what he wants, you knew him better than even he admitted to allow.

“Then you’ll have no problem drinking my horrible concoction,” your gentle sarcasm would never be heard as unfavorable in his ears.

Jason takes a sip of his soup, slightly wincing from the heat on his sore throat, but he doesn’t seem as pleased with it as he’d originally thought. It tastes good, everything you’ve ever concocted for meals brought comfort, but as of now. he’s not really as hungry as he anticipated.

“What is this? Chicken, right?” He’s just making small talk now, wanting the conversation to last. “It’s really good, really, ma. Just not as hungry as I thought.”

You nod, not really happy about the outcome. But again, he’s sick. You can’t blame him.

“Take a few more sips, at least. Just so the medicine dosent make your stomach hurt.”

Jason looks away when you mentions the medicine, but he nods all the same. He eats what he can from his bowl, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion decides to increase weight down on his bones, forcing him into an even drowsier state.

All he does is partially lean against you after setting his bowl back on the table, keeping his eyes closed to ease the faint throbbing pressure building at the top of his head.

“I don’t even like cold medicine… I can’t sleep when I’m drowsy.” He mutters to himself, seeming to babble to no one but himself on not being so ill.

Your hand reach up to settle along his back, easing the tension with your fingers massaging his neck, confusion conflicting your mind at first.

“What you just said made no sense,” you giggle a bit, watching him lazily shake his head with a mild scoff.

He presses his head against the curve of your shoulder, his voice growing soft like a cat’s rumble. One of his arms settles lazily around your back. his body feeling practically limp.

By now, his response came in a series of short, muffled hums. He’s not complaining, really, but he is being extremely clingy. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, succumbing to an incredibly long sleep in your embrace, as if he can’t support his own weight. (He really can, but chooses not to.)

“On the bright side, the medicine says it tastes like honey.” You gently suggest, putting optimism where it may have lacked.

“Can’t you take it for me?” He lightly whines, his voice rumbling with a drowsy rasp. At this point, it’s not even because of the cold. Jason’s just too exhausted to think straight.

“I don’t know if pregnant women can take this kind of cold medicine,” you whisper to him, holding his shoulder after combing through his hair.

“Pretty please?” He whispers, his body feeling a little warmer from your presence. As comforting as it may have been to him now, a few minutes longer would’ve resorted in an uncomfortable ache in his neck from this poor posture.

“C’mon baby, just one little cup of medicine and you can sleep as much as you want. I’ll even yell at Bruce or Dick if they even try to call.”

Jason gives a light chuckle, his nose brushing along your jaw before planting a minor kiss along your neck.

“Fine, guess I’ll stop giving mama a hard time about it. It’ll be your job in about five months.” He speaks in second tense towards the bump in between you, followed by an eye roll on your end.

Watching you measure out the golden, syrupy mixture of potentially foul tasting medicine left him in a weak bind. He’d graciously drink horrid syrups consisting of fear toxin and joker venom if it meant you’d spoon-feed him an antidote. Such blind devotion was rare to come by throughout his life, comfort was your name in a foreign language.

He’s blessed with your smile once he had gotten the medicine down, rewarded with a kiss on the tip of his nose and a cup of promised tea, ambrosia to combat the foul taste. Goddamn medicine bottles with their stupid, deceiving lies.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so needy.” His slurred mumbling surprised you the most as you adjusted the blankets between the two of you.

A light tongue click leaves you, shaking your head in denial from such an unnecessary apology. “Don’t be, you silly man.”

Whether from some conflicting guilt, or illness inducing dysphoria on his mind, or shame, you gently deny and accept his apology with another kiss.

The effect of the medication is quickly kicks into place after ten minutes in bed, starting to drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Nothing but calm silence steals his consciousness for a few hours, warm bodies sheltered by the chilly winds batting against fogged glass throughout the long hours of the night. Despite the occasional faint echoes of neighbors next door and above, serene silence envelopes the minds of exhausted bodies.

You were snuggled up beside him with one of many pillows invading the space. Your cardigan sprawled neglected on the floor, cast aside due to the overwhelming seer of body heat.

He sighs softly, still tired, but his eyes glance over to the time on the nightstand clock.

He’s been asleep for hours, the time being … A little after eleven.

“Damn.” He whispers, drawing your closer to his body in a close hold. You feel so good like this, so safe. Spending all this time with him, doting on him, caring for him would mean the fifty percent chance you’d be afflicted next once he got better. Jason didn’t mind one bit, as much as he knew he should’ve been the one spending all his free time being attentive to your needs.

Either of you would look back on this and laugh of it, considering it practice for the baby.

For now, in the short time period of limbo between doctors appointments, checklists on supplies, criminal justice, and other impending challenges of becoming parents, everything was quiet. Calm, perfect even.

“Shh, the baby’s sleeping,” you softly retaliate, your hand cradling over his on the bump. You nudge just a little closer to the warmth radiating off him, seeking comfort with the furnace you call your beloved.

“What time is it?”

“Sleeping time,” he retorts, still sounding a little drowsy, his words coming out slow and somewhat slurred. His nose felt more stuffy than before, his head aching with a pressure that grew the longer he remained awake.

Once more, calloused fingers rustle against the fabric of his shirt on your body, potentially to be stretched during the later months to come. Here’s to hoping, he’s been secretly dying to see it.

“I love you both,” he whispers along your forehead, speaking from his heart in the sanctuary of your shared vulnerability.

You smile, tilting your head up to plant a soft, exhausted kiss on his chin. “We love you too,” you whisper, fighting back sleep to express an intimate act of love.

He closes his eyes, ready to sleep again. He’s not tired yet, stuck between the purgatory of both conscious states, but he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer. At this point, he’s already half in the land of dreams. He’s comfortable—and happy to be with you, and with his baby.

“Never wanna let go of you two,” he mumbles, faintly catching the fragrance of your shampooed hair, the faint spice of ambery musk clinging to your skin.

You can’t help but quietly coo, burying most of your face against the crook of Jason’s neck.

“Then, don’t.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd gotham knights #jason todd drabble #jason todd x #my personal life went through a dead dove phase #this is my therapy #for free

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russellsppttemplates · 11 days

Note

Hii☺️ I had an idea, where its charles and teaders first pregnancy and she is really struggling with morning sickness and feels bad about it cause its the LEC ice cream debut and charles is totally okay if she misses it but she pulls thru without being too sick for him. Idk just cute anxious daddy to be charles🥺

Cw: reader is pregnant (mentions morning sickness, nausea)

"I don't mind it if you don't come with me tomorrow, amour, I'm okay with that", Charles reasoned as he got into bed where you already were layed down, your ice-cold lemon water working wonders for the nausea you were feeling.

"We will see how I wake up tomorrow", you reasoned, "no need to worry until we have to, who knows? Maybe this little monkey will let me go to the launch of the best ice-cream in town", you smiled in an attempt to soothe his worries.

When the morning came, however, you were feeling it a bit. It wasn't the need to throw up necessarily - thank Goodness -, but rather just the heavy feeling on your stomach, "I'm fine to to, Charles - I even got that cute dress to wear and I'm okay", you kissed his lips in reassurance before you started getting ready.

"The minute you don't feel well, you call someone to call me if I'm not near you, and you sit down, okay?", your husband stated before you got inside the venue for the ice-cream launch.

For the most part you had been fine, speaking to a few friends and other people you recognised, your pregnancy being the second most talked about topic while everyone seemed to love the cold dessert, "you're not having some? I can get it for you", she offered.

"No, I don't want to mess up this nausea I already have, thank you though", you smiled as you saw Charles walk to you, excusing himself when someone pulled him in for a chat.

"Amour, is everything alright? Are you sure you don't need some fresh air? Maybe I can find some more lemon-y water for you - sitting down might help!", he offered.

"What I want if for you to calm down and not worry about us - we're fine, keeping away from the ice-cream, but fine", you smiled, letting him cuddle you on your side as the woman you were talking to excused herself.

"I'm never not going to worry about you, that's not a thing that can happen", he admitted as he rubbed your bump, "and I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all", he kissed your temple, "I know it wasn't easy for you to be here, but thank you for coming anyway".

"I'm impressed you didn't call me stubborn", you raised your eyebrows.

"See, I could have called you stubborn because you were - a little bit at least - but you're also my amazing wife and the mother of my child you're so beautifully carrying, so I know the limits of my words", he chuckled.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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occamstfs · 14 days

Text

Tenor Troubles

Masculinization spurred by a going from a Tenor to a Bass, bit of an odd one but hope you enjoy! -Occam

Max probably should have read his contract more closely. He knew that grad students across the board were getting shafted, but the agreement he has with the College of Fine Arts was some next level exploitation. He prided himself on his voice, being able to sing higher than even most of the Altos he has previously studied alongside. But his degree plan on the already signed contract suggests he is going to be enrolled as a Bass in the graduate program. Clearly there has been some misunderstanding that he’ll just need to work out with the department.

He knocks on the door of his advising professor and without waiting for a come in he bursts through the doors to see the man who is both his boss and professor staring at him less than pleased. Max’s face reddens in embarrassment and before he can even open his mouth to speak, Dr. Reyes addresses him.

“Maxwell is it. I trust you have a reason for barging into my office? I ask that you take more care towards decorum in the future.”

Max stumbles through an apology before getting to the matter at hand. “Y- yes of course I’m so sorry doctor it won't happen again, I swear.” He raises his eyes to his professor’s stern gaze, flinching back slightly as he goes on, “it’s just that, um, it looks like there was some kind of mix-up with my enrollment, I mean clearly you can tell I’m a Tenor right?” He raises his tone slightly and smiles awkwardly as he tries to make it clear to the man across from him that he certainly does not have the range.

Dr. Reyes rubs his beard, briefly covering his own mouth and wiping a smile from his face. “Well now Maxwell, there does seem to be a mismatch between your vocal training, and your preferred classes and yada yada,” waving his hands dismissively as Max’s face stains a deeper shade of scarlet by the second. Reyes goes on, “I'll see what I can do but all these changes take time If you must change your plan it’ll be at least a week. Until then if you could see to it that you fulfill the TA demands asked of you and attend your classes hm? You are under contract are you not?” The image of his signature at the bottom of contract feels burned into his retinas as he starts to reply, “well yes but-” An alarm goes off on the professor’s desk. “Very well Maxwell, if you would excuse me.”

Dr. Reyes makes his way to the next class smiling as he too thinks of the fine print of Maxwell's contract. ‘The student will become what the program asks of him.’ What a dunce one must be to sign that without an inquiry. Giving one last glance behind him to see the small student shaking with rage at the series of events, veins appearing to bulge out of his neck as he thinks about chasing after his professor, almost taking a step before grasping at his head. Max doubles over and grunts, after a painful second he rises once more and sees his advising professor enter a classroom. He exhales through his nose and walks to the concert hall with the undergraduate Bass students, the course he is, both legally and otherwise, compelled to assist with.

The Next Week

Max is inches away from just dropping out. He was well-prepared to be constantly stressed from grad school but the wrench of working with students who don’t respect him and professors that are expecting him to sing alongside the rest of these professional bassists, it’s impossible! Dr. Reyes must be doing some sick joke on him, there is no reason it should be so difficult to fix this! He shouldn’t be graded for the university’s mistake. Beyond the looming threat of flunking these courses for his inaptitude he is also constantly hungry. His stomach rumbles and sends pangs through his body as he sits through each course on vocal instruction. He succumbs to stress-eating assuming one plate must fall and it may as well be his waistline.

Every time he indulges in his hunger he finds weight almost immediately piles on. Alongside his meticulously honed falsetto he has always enjoyed just how tight and small he kept his twinkish figure, though this begins to slip as he finds himself straining his tight pants and his stomach showing through his button ups.

The final issue lies precisely in his private vocal practice, in lieu of the training his program should guarantee. As he goes about practicing the arias and vocalizations that he typically uses as warmups he finds himself struggling to hit the highest notes. He works his way through them slowly and slips up, finding his range is peaking out much lower than it ever should. He grimaces and refuses to deign and see if his range has increased in the other direction. He goes note by note, taking his time to feel the stress and vibrations of his vocal chords. Reaching the pinnacle of the piece he strains to hit the high note and his voice promptly cracks. He feels a tear. He coughs and gasps for air concerned that he has truly injured himself.

When no blood or further pain reveals itself Max finally clears his throat and drinks a glass of water. He tests his voice, “Uhhhh-” forcing his hand over his mouth before even getting a full syllable out. Eyes watering as he hears his voice is unmistakably deeper than it was not a minute ago. This spurs him to action as he storms to the college and bangs on the door of Dr. Reyes.

For his part Reyes is sitting at the desk finishing an email and grinning as he hears the banging grow only more fervent at his door. He finishes his email almost laughing at how effective he is at controlling the man at the door. Knock as he may he could not storm in if he wanted to, as he must desperately. Closing his laptop and reaching to grab a tea bag from within his desk he calls to allow Max entry, “Do come in Maxwell.”

Stomping into the room, unaccustomed to the new weight he carries, which Dr. Reyes is all too pleased to notice. He takes a deep breath as he prepares to shout at the professor, his chest growing as his already prodigious lungs expand. Before finishing though Reyes raises a finger and strikes him passive and mute. “Now Max, why don’t you have a seat.” He clenches his hands with a furor and sits, stewing in his mind while also rapt with attention. “How have you been liking your classes?” Max continues to sit silently watching as the prepare a pot of tea, beginning to forget his ire as he looks on in confusion at the man. Reyes turns once more and rolls his eyes, “Well go on.”

Shaking out of it Max finally starts clearing his throat a few times hoping the voice he has worked so hard to protect and train will return “I, ugh- Sorry it’s ugh!” Dr. Reyes leans against his desk and steeps the tea bag, eyebrows raised with a thin smile on his face. Failing to speak as he so wishes the rage returns to Max and he shouts out, “It’s my fucking voice! I came here to learn and all these classes are just a waste of my fucking time!”

Reyes pours the tea into a large mug and sets it in front of his student, “Now now, if you were having voice problems why didn’t you just say so Max. I am a professional after all! Have some of this and I’m sure it will set you right as rain.” The professor watches as Max grasps the mug and stares into it. He remembers that Reyes was already preparing it when he came in. But it’s not as if his advisor would do something truly untoward right? Sensing the hesitation Dr. Reyes’ eyes darken and he commands, “I did say to drink it did I not.”

Max quickly raises the glass and sips. His eyes remain dark and he continues, “what seems to be the problem with your voice young Maxwell?” Taking a break from drinking he starts to explain all of his troubles to the man who should be looking out for him. Gesturing to his clearly larger body, Reyes notices beyond the weight gain that the sitting man is adjusting himself as his pants begin to grow even tighter, his ankles growing exposed as if his legs were lengthening.

He continues to stumble onward with his recollection, forgetting what exactly bothered him enough to storm in. Reyes half-listens and takes care to refill the tea cup as needed, taking in the physical changes to the man rambling and wondering just how far they will be able to go. Eventually Reyes speaks up, “you were having trouble with your voice, yes Maxwell?”

Max’s eyes glimmer with recognition and he almost jumps with a start, “Yes! That was it I couldn’t sing the part I auditioned with in Nessun Dorma and I was-” His professor interrupts as he takes a big swing at Max’s psyche, “Is that so? What were you doing singing that Maxwell, that’s for tenors.” As if a grenade went off in his mind Max struggles to reconcile and remember what his problem was, did he not audition as a Tenor? But he couldn’t sing high to save his life right? Or no.

Reyes watches as Max’s brow grows sweaty in his inner struggle. He physically raises the cup to Max’s mouth helping him finish the entire pot of tea. Confident that the man before him is far enough gone to only latch on his words, Reyes offers him a bone, “which side of your range are you struggling with boy.” Feeling emasculated by the professor infantilizing him he feels an urge to test his lower range. Reyes sees the resolve in Max’s eyes and challenges him, “Go on, sing your lowest note, now.” Max takes a deep breath and produces a sonorous note sustaining it far better than he would have ever expected himself to.

Reyes smiles and shoots to plant another seed, “Well now Maxwell, I’m not quite sure what the problem is then. Your range seems to be what any trained Baritone’s should be.” The word Baritone echoes through Max’s head as he once more grows paralyzed in his own mind. He ekes out a “B- Baritone?” his voice cracking even deeper as he freezes. Reyes watches as his eyebrows knit together in confusion, they seem to grow thicker as they near each other.

Vocal range and masculinity don’t inherently match one-to-one but the professor is more than happy to allow it, staring as the weight from Max’s stomach begins to slightly redistribute itself, it slides up his chest, straining the buttons near his collar. Reyes shifts to look at Max’s face, eyes lingering on the Adam's apple making itself unmissable on his neck. He sees peach fuzz growing on Max’s upper lip and sideburns. Thoroughly pleased with the acceleration he has achieved today an alarm once more goes off on his phone and he readies to send his protege off.

“Maxwell dear, I thank you for your patience. Of course I know that you’d prefer to be with the other Baritone student’s though I am sure you are learning valuable information working outside your comfort zone hm? I’m sure we’ll have this snafu fixed by next week.” Max just stares in a stupor as he stares at his professor, the empty mug of tea still in his hand before he sets it down to scratch at his tighter shirt. Dr. Reyes offers him a kerchief to wipe the drool from his mouth as he leads him out of his office, “Why don’t you try your warm ups, I’m sure they’ll set you right as rain.”

Just as he did last time he takes one last look at his growing student as he begins to wander down the hall, his pants swiftly turning from slacks to tight capris. He hears the echo of the man humming to himself as he walks down the hallway to his own office hours. He’ll need to be ready for whatever his Bass performance students need right? Can’t have them out showing him even if he’s still working outside his comfort zone. Just one more week of this and he’ll get to show off to the Baritones, once more with his choral cohort.

The Next Week

Dr. Reyes stays abreast of how his star pupil is doing this week. He visits during private lessons and checks into lectures on music theory and rehearsals. He hears the man force his voice to be stronger. After any challenge he hears the man force himself to be louder. When struggling with curriculum, surely impeded by the doctor’s manipulation, he clutches at his head as his body surges larger, tightening clothes that were already sizes too large when he started his education here.

He sees Max looking at his reflection in the mirror of a practice room. He checks his beard from every angle, tilting his head up to see his large Adam's apple and smirks watching it vibrate as he hums. He unbuttons yet another button of his shirt, allowing an even greater view of his pecs as thick chest hair spills outward. Reyes hears his voice power through the soundproofed room as he approaches. He has clearly decided to leave Baritone behind without any prodding as he endeavors to show off his talents despite ostensibly singing to himself.

Dr. Reyes knocks on the door of the practice room and like an eager dog Max falls over himself to answer it. He now stands taller than his professor whose head now lies directly at the hairy pecs spilling from his opened shirt. Max’s eyes glimmer as he looks down to the smug face of the professor. He quickly sits down to lower himself below the doctor and eagerly awaits whatever is soon to spill from Reyes’ mouth.

“I must say Maxwell, you have truly outdone yourself. Truly you hold one of the most powerful Bass voices I have heard in my time.” Max sits quietly, his heart racing with excitement from such kind words. He struggles to stay silent, lest he speak out of turn, though he cannot hide the rumble in his chest as his deep breaths accelerate. The doctor struggles to keep it together as he sees a pulse in the unmistakable, currently growing, bulge in Max’s pants. He briefly wonders if he’s gone too far, before looking back to the man’s face, seeing his eyes still staring directly into him waiting.

Perhaps he can go farther. “Is it not a shame though, my dear Max, that you’re not a true Basso Profundo?” There is a loud tear in the room as Max’s body surges larger. He shoots up inches more in height revealing a hairy stomach and pubes that already spill beyond the bounds of his pants. Reyes hears a catch in his student’s breath and watches as his Adam's apple bulge even further from his throat. His cock bursts the zipper of his pants and Max moans loud and deep enough for the professor to feel it in his chest. Reyes can’t take his eyes from the hair covering his chest grows even darker, curling as each strand grows thicker.

Before losing control of himself and his desires Dr. Reyes forces one last statement through Max’s mind, “You know the department has always wanted a basso profundo coach. How would you feel about being an assistant professor, Max?” In response Max can only sit in awe as a look of what can only be described as pleasure stains his face, mouth lolling open as his eyes grow crossed. His hands clench the sides of his chair as he struggles to not lose control over himself and the professor. Thinking of staining the practice room only makes it more difficult to keep it together.

Reyes feels a hunger within himself as he stares down at the massive man seconds away from cumming all over himself. In time he too will only know Max as the powerful man he is now. At this juncture however the doctor sneaks out of the practice room and heads to return to his office to prepare for office hours, what kind of a professor would he be if he wasn’t there for his pupils after all.

Walking down the hallway he hears the man in the practice room lose control, his voice echoing down the hall before hearing him run out and to the nearest bathroom. He prioritizes increasing the soundproofing of the practice rooms before turning to see the new Assistant Professor sprint down the hallway towards the nearest restroom. Struggling to move swiftly or quietly in his far-too-strained clothing. Reyes returns to the desk and smiles once more to himself as he thinks of a future for himself, his program, and his new star Basso Profundo, before hearing yet another knock at the door.

“Do come in.”

#male tf #masculinization #mental change #muscle tf #hair growth #male transformation

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willaferrreyra · 8 months

Text

first date movies — neil lewis x reader

word count: 2.9k (oops this was….way longer than i thought)

contains: SMUT (18+ ONLY) —> fingering, oral (m receiving), public indecency (getting it on in a movie theater because…it’s neil), fluff, happy ending!

you have a crush on your coworker and you really wish you didn’t.

note: this has not been proofread so place excuse any typos! i hope you enjoy especially since this is my first smut fic on this account which is insane. also all of the movies referenced are some of my favorites so…..i’d absolutely recommend them if you haven’t seen them already! neil is my silly little movie buff husband and i’d absolutely LOVE to write for him again so please leave some feedback if you’d like more!

cillian taglist: @mortylover

As you stood on a step stool, shelving new video arrivals, you could hear Ingrid Bergman's lovely Swedish accent behind you.

Notorious. You'd seen it a million times but you'd never gotten sick of it. It was your favorite Hitchcock and often the movie you'd throw on if you were in need of comfort. Although it was your turn to pick what everyone watched at the video store today, you weren't sitting with everyone else on the big worn out sofa. You preferred to shelve and enjoy the sound of the movies in the background (maybe walking over when your favorite scene was on). After all, someone needed to help the customers even if you didn't have many.

You had an annoying habit of reciting movie lines that you loved, as did Neil, the owner of the store and one of your closest friends.

"This is a very strange love affair," you said with Ingrid as you placed Valley of the Dolls in its right place.

"Why?" Neil said right along with Cary Grant, glancing over at you.

"Maybe the fact that you don't love me," you shot him a dramatic look, trying to do your best Ingrid Bergman impression.

"Your Bergman should be better for someone who's seen this movie more times than she can count," he said.

You rolled your eyes.

"She's got a unique accent! Plus it's very transatlantic. That's hard."

"She can do the Fargo accent," your other coworker Jonathan pointed out, not bothering to look up from the TV.

"Oh, you betcha," you grinned, nailing the unmistakable Minnesotan "o" sound.

"That's not hard!" Neil protested.

"It's not easy!"

The doors jingled as your best friend walked through the door, cutting the discussion about accents short. Before you could even say anything she already had a request.

"First date movie. Help."

You thought for a minute.

"Well what's the person like?"

"I don't know! I haven't met him yet. This is a blind setup by a coworker thing."

"Do you....think you'll be paying attention to the movie?"

She made a face.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Not necessarily! You could be....talking."

After many failed dates with guys who were into film, you understood the complexities of picking the first date movie. It said a lot about a person — what they're into, how they feel, who they aspire to be. But at the end of the day, it needs to be something that can transition to being background noise for a good make out session while still being enjoyable. Very few movies check all of those boxes.

"Just don't give me anything too complicated, okay?" she sighed. "No Lynch. No Cronenberg."

You fake frowned. "I was just gonna rent Crash and Lost Highway to you as a double feature."

She shuddered as she remembered the horror that was watching both of those films. You could stomach things like that but she absolutely couldn't.

"Okay, sit tight. I have a thought," you said as you ran over to the romances.

Your friend wandered over to the TV while you hunted for her perfect first date movie.

"Hey guys," she said monotonously.

"Hey," they replied equally unenthused.

She stood and watched the movie for a minute before you came back holding Moonstruck.

"Cher. Nic Cage. Romantic. Easy to follow. It checks every box!"

"That's your idea of a first date movie?" Neil scoffed.

"What's yours? The Seventh Seal?" you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, that's why Denise broke up with him," Jonathan replied.

"What? You didn't tell me that!"

"Well it kind of just happened," he said. "And to be honest I'm not so broken up about it."

After knowing Neil a while, you knew that he wasn't one for consistent steady girlfriends. Denise lasted longer than most, but in the end he always seemed to get bored. Sure, he got around to an extent, but it was hard for you to picture Neil Lewis truly settling down. Unless, of course, you pictured him with you — but you tried not to do that. The thought popped into your brain every once in a while but you pushed it out as soon as it arrived. You knew you'd only end up getting hurt.

"Okay, well that's good because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies tonight. I mean, I'm all for a good ol' post breakup pity party but I'd much rather go see The Thing on the big screen tonight."

You and Neil did your part to keep your local independent theater in business more than anyone else in town. It was a regular thing for the two of you to go see at least two movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes Jonathan and Lucien would tag along and sometimes it was just the two of you — every time you secretly hoped that it would be just the two of you.

"Now that's a good first date movie," Jonathan said.

"The Thing for a first date?" you scrunched your nose into a face of disapproval. "You guys have no taste."

"Well good thing we're not going on a first date then," Neil said. "But yeah, I'll go with you, I'm not doing anything else. Wanna grab dinner and go straight there?"

Those words shouldn't have been such a dagger to you but they were. No shit, this wasn't a first date. He didn't need to remind you.

"Yeah, that's fine," you said, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. "I just have a few more things to finish up here and then we can head out."

You helped your friend rent her movie and finished up your shelving duties with a little less pep in your step than usual as Neil's words played over and over again in your mind like a broken record.

Good thing we're not going on a first date then. Fuck him. It's not like he was trying to hurt you, after all he didn't know that you maybe kinda sorta liked him. But those words.....you just couldn't take your mind off of them as you mentally prepared yourself for your very clearly stated non-date.

—

A little diner by the local theater had been your spot with Neil for as long as you'd been coworkers. It had become a tradition of yours to sneak in mini bottles of booze to pour into the milkshakes, either on celebratory or wallowing in your sorrows occasions. Neil's breakup felt like a good excuse to give your shared vanilla shake deserved an extra kick, even if you were the one who really needed it.

"Is anyone looking?"

He shook his head as you poured the vodka into the glass, stirring the concoction with the straw. You didn't wait for Neil before placing your lips to the straw and downing a quarter of it all at once.

"Hey, take it easy. I thought I was the one who needed the alcohol tonight," he chuckled.

"You said it yourself, you're not upset about Denise," you said, the irritation in your voice shining through.

"Are you upset about something, then? I'm sorry I didn't really help you shelve today, I just- you know, you like to do that stuff by yourself sometimes. And you picked such a good movie I couldn't tear myself away from the screen."

It would've been easier if you had really been upset about that. You wished that you were upset about that And now half the shake was gone, everything you wanted to say was rushing to your head, and you didn't even think about what you were doing when you blurted out:

"Why can't this be a first date?"

His eyes widened as he let out a small chuckle, assuming you were kidding.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why can't this be a first date?"

As he stared back at you, you felt like you had just fucked everything up. This amazing friendship was just ruined now because you drank your boozy milkshake too fast.

"Do....do you want it to be?" he asked.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed before burying your head in your hands. "Forget I said anything. I-I drank that too fast."

"No, I....we can call this a date if you want. In fact I'd really like that."

He wasn't trying to humor you and he wasn't trying to make the situation better by saying something that he didn't mean — he was dead serious.

"Neil, don't say that if you don't mean it," you sighed. "I'm just....upset today. Don't listen to me."

He studied your face for a minute before speaking again.

"Do you remember when I interviewed you for your job?"

"Now what does that have to do with anything?"

You did, in fact, remember your Gumshoe interview very well. You had asked him if he'd ever considered doing a film noir themed commercial for the store and you'd never seen someone so excited about an idea before — you always assumed that was why you had gotten the job.

"I knew you before that, you know," he said. "I remembered you from when you used to be a customer. There was actually this one time when you had an overdue fee and I paid it for you and told the guys that I had lost the tape."

This made you smile a bit.

"Point being?"

He took a deep breath before he continued on.

"Normally when we do the interview process, we ask the same shit, you know? What's your favorite movie? Who's your favorite director? And I asked you that stuff even though I thought I already knew the answers, I remembered what you used to rent. I thought I knew you so well and then you just went totally fucking wildcard on me — and I loved it. Ever since then you've kept on surprising me and I....well, I really like that. I guess what I'm trying to say is I really like you. And I think I always have."

You stared at him wide-eyed. You had not expected your little drunken tantrum to get you a confession of feelings.

"Neil....do you know why I rented from Gumshoe all the time? I mean, I'm all for supporting the little guys, but I really went in to see you. And then I got this job and I got to know you and you weren't just the cute guy at the video store anymore, you were like....my cute friend/boss technically but I won't get into that. But I got to know you and I watched you go through all of these relationships because you get bored eventually and....I just think you might get bored with me. I'm no Katharine Ross in Butch and Sundance."

He shook his head as a smile crept across his lips.

"No, you're even more exciting than that. You're like...Barbarella or something. Queen of the galaxy."

"Barbarella's whole thing was sex appeal," you point out. "That's the whole movie."

"Sex appeal, sure. But she's also kind and interesting and witty. You've got all of that."

You took all of that as a compliment but you found yourself blushing at his mention of sex appeal.

—

When you arrived to the movie theater after finishing your meal, it seemed that you two were the only ones dying to see a John Carpenter flick on a Tuesday evening. You had your pick of seats in the empty theater.

Your non-date turned date couldn't have been going better, honestly, it made you think that you should turn to drinking more often. It fixed this problem miraculously well.

As you settled into your seats and the lights dimmed, it was clear that both of you wanted to make a move but didn't know how to do it. After all, you couldn't just go straight for unzipping his fly. Or could you? Tonight was all about confidence and he clearly liked it when you kept him on his toes. You decided to start slow, resting a hand on his thigh, letting your hand wander from there.

He looked over at you as you made contact with the bulge in his jeans. It was hard to read his expression in the dark, but you could feel that he didn't want you to stop.

"Are we really gonna do this here?" he whispered.

"We've both seen this a thousand times, I think it'll be okay if we get a little distracted," you whisper back. "U-unless you don't want—"

He cut you off with a kiss that was a long time coming. You were surprised by the sheer force of it as your tongues collided. His hand reached up to cup the side of your face as you melted into the kiss, illuminated by the glow of the silver screen. He made you feel dizzy, but in a good way.

Now, you had never been intimate in a movie theater before, but it was even more exhilarating than you could’ve imagined. As you slowly unzipped his fly, taking his length out of his jeans, you noticed that Neil wasn’t watching the movie at all. His eyes were completely focused on you.

“You’re really taking your time, aren’t you?” he whispered. He was rock hard already and you could tell that he was getting incredibly impatient. You held the base of him while you teased his tip with your tongue. Whatever composure he thought he had went out the window as he his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Based on his breathing patterns you thought he was going to come right then.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Just….just like that.”

You could feel him trembling as your tongue continued to work its swirly magic. Eventually you began to take him in your mouth completely, greeting him with the warm sensation of the back of your throat. He groaned out your name in a raspy whisper as you bobbed your head on his length. Before you knew it, you could feel a hand on your head guiding it along — his touch felt so intimate and loving, you couldn’t get enough.

“I-I’m close….I’m— fuck….I’m gonna—“

Before he could finish what he was going to say, you could feel his come coat the back of your throat. It was a warm, welcome feeling and you couldn’t wait to feel it again.

“Jesus christ,” he sat there catching his breath before turning to you. “That was….wow. You’re just…..I-Incredible.”

You smiled at the praise. It wasn’t even day that you were complimented on your blowjob skills.

Your head made its way to his shoulder as you sat side by side watching the movie. His hand began on your though but slowly because to creep it’s way up between your legs.

“Returning the favor?” you whispered, smiling softly as you glanced in his direction.

He nodded, speaking in a sultry whisper that nearly made your legs shake. “You know, you just made me feel so good….it would be a crime not to reciprocate it, don’t you think?”

You continued to rest your head on his shoulder as he slipped two fingers inside of you. You couldn’t help but notice how easily they went in — you had been soaked for hours.

“All this for me?” he chuckled. “How long have you been like this?”

“All night,” you said in between heavy breaths. “I-I’m always like this around you, Neil.”

“No way, are you really?”

His switch up from the sultry whisper to his excited tone made you giggle.

“I have….a tendency to daydream about you when I’m around you,” you explained.

His fingers found just the right spot as he continued to question you. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to talk.

“Daydream about what specifically?”

A small whimper escaped your mouth as his fingers curled inside of you. You couldn’t even recall what you used to daydream about until it hit you.

“This…..this exact moment. I-I’ve….fuck….Ive daydreamed about this a m-million times.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked as he started to pump his fingers faster. “And how does it end?”

“I- Neil- I’m gonna—“

“How does it end, sweet girl? Tell me.”

You could barely even answer in between heavy breaths but you managed to speak up, your words intertwined with your moans.

“Y-you make….you make me come, N-Neil! I’m….right now, I’m—“

“Show me. Come for me. Show me how the daydream ends.”

And you did, trying your best to keep quiet as you came undone. You buried your face into his shoulder as you whimpered and throbbed against his fingers.

“Good girl,” he exhaled. “That’s a good girl.”

—

The next day at work, you and Neil debated what you should tell the others. To announce the relationship or keep it a secret was a heavily debated topic, but you eventually settled on keeping it to yourselves for a while before revealing it. You thought it would be nice to have something that was just yours for a while. Plus, hiding a relationship can be incredibly sexy.

As you walked into Gumshoe, you flashed a quick smile at Neil who was in his usual spot behind the counter before taking your place at the shelf.

“Hey, Jonathan,” you called over to the couch, getting his attention. “I was totally wrong. Upon my rewatch, I think that The Thing would be a great first date movie.”

“See, I told you! I told you and you never fucking listen to me,” he said. “What made you change your mind?”

You glanced over at Neil one more time. It was clear that he was thinking about last night just as much as you were.

“I don’t know…” you shrugged. “Maybe it’s Kurt Russell.”

#cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy smut #I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS!! mwah!!!

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rineptune · 2 months

Note

Heeeeeyyyy pal

Can we get a continuation of that fic with the pregnant reader who's Lucifer's sister

Like what if her water broke at like, the *least* convenient time and Lucifer is freaking tf out, Alastors chill as usual and readers just like

:) "I'm just glad to be here" while having contractions

Love your work btw 🤗

inconvenient timing.

summary: inconvenient timing for your water to break, but what else could you do?

warnings: foul language, brief description of the horrors of pregnancy and labor

a/n: here it is n tysm!! the second part to devil’s paradise

during your pregnancy, all is well.

regular visits from the doctor became part of the routine, and alastor made the effort to be the one accompanying you to every last one of them, and on the rare occasion that he couldn’t accompany you, charlie—your ever optimistic and kind niece—was the one who came with.

the crew of the hotel treated you as if you were made of glass, not wanting you to lift too much on your plate, so they did their best to cater to your every need and demand (not that you needed much and bothered them often).

you took care of yourself, too.

though your belly had gotten swollen, you were feeling fine, as if you weren’t carrying the unborn child of the feared radio demon in pride ring. you thanked whoever it is you could thank that you didn’t experience morning sickness, however, you were no exemption from the fatigue and discomfort that came with being pregnant.

lucifer’s worry for your well-being throughout all of this still hasn’t completely faded away. you were his only sister! and his brothers in heaven would surely have his head if something did happen to you now that you’ve fallen from the skies and are now under his domain.

everything was going well, until it wasn’t.

•

you went with charlie during another meeting with heaven’s official court in place of your brother. obviously, all eyes wandered to your stomach because, how could they not?

a former angel pregnant? that stirred whispers and disgusted expressions from those who were from the court.

“as you can see, the population in hell is—“

charlie was cut off when the angels gasped in unison. confused, she turned to you, and her eyes widened when she saw the bottom half of your dress soaked.

“oh my go—! aunt yn, your water broke.” she says in a panic.

“i see that, my dear,” you answer with an awkward cough.

“it seems that i’ll be taking my leave early, uhm... excuse me.”

“wait! uhm, i’ll take you back!” she tells you. “we’ll be back another time, sorry! this is very important for us.” charlie tells the angels present at the court meeting.

•

alastor swore you were about to snap his hand into two.

“darling, are you nervous?” he asks smoothly.

“no? why would you ask that, al?”

“hmm.”

he glances at the hand that gripped his, remarkably so tight that he feels all the blood from that particular area stop flowing. your free hand caressed your belly through the hospital gown, taking slow and even breaths to somewhat soothe the contractions.

“i was only wondering,” alastor answers.

you may have a high pain tolerance, but when you’re having contractions, you might as well swear on every god and angel to spare you from the agonizing pain—promising to never think of having any children in the future again.

because, god, it hurts like a bitch.

as calm as you were, lucifer, on the other hand, had no calm bone in his body.

“oh, god. gabriel’s calling,” lucifer says, looking as though he’s about to throw up.

“and the nursery still has renovations that need to be done—“

“i’m going to be an uncle, holy shit—“

“what if something goes wrong? what? no! i shouldn’t think that—“

“should i prepare the gifts—“

“where are the doctors and nurses? they should’ve been here by now—“

“i knew we shouldn’t have taken you to sloth ring, yn—“

“lucifer,” you breathed out. “calm down.”

“i am calm! fucking calm,” he said, wiping away the sweat on his brow.

“you sound like a dying goat, my lord,” alastor smiled.

“fuck you, deerface.”

“ok, ok. no one should be fighting,” you amusedly sigh, groaning when you feel another sharp contraction that had you biting your lip.

this got the attention of the other two, and lucifer asked you if you were okay as alastor placed a comforting hand on your belly.

well, at least they got along when need be.

•

“look, she has your eyes and smile, al.”

after long, painful hours of labor and practically dying on your hospital bed due to the procedure of bringing a new life into this hellish world, a healthy baby girl was born.

she took on alastor’s ears, eyes, and smile, while she had your wings and charm. the little fawn was sound asleep in your arms after almost tragically biting off a nurse’s finger when he was checking for anything wrong with your baby—to alastor’s dismay, he wished his little girl had succeeded.

nevertheless, she is perfect in his eyes already.

“our little fawn is certainly perfect, my dear,” he says. “she has your charm, too.”

“that she does.”

and you best believe charlie and lucifer cried when charlie finally held her baby cousin.

“charlie, dear, are you ok?” you ask, a bit concerned.

“allergies, auntie. allergies,” she sniffled.

nothing would ever happen to her, because anyone who dares even look at the niece of the morningstar fallen angel who was also the daughter of the infamous radio demon, would receive hell served on a golden platter without any remorse or time for rebuttal.

“it may have been inconvenient timing to have my contractions,” you murmur to alastor once you two are finally home and alone with your baby. “but i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“i’m glad that you’re ok, darling.”

“mm, thank you, alastor.”

“you shouldn’t thank me for worrying about you. it’s only natural for me to do so, no?” he says.

“now, i have to take care of two, but i wouldn’t have it any other way either.”

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