#I went a little overboard with taking pictures

[victorluvsalice]

Welcome to Summer Friday in the Chill Valicer Save, everyone -- otherwise known as THE VALICER WEDDING UPDATE! Which is so massive at ninety pictures that I had to take advantage of the fact that I'm now on the new post editor and can upload more than ten pictures at a time to a post. ^^; So you're only getting hit with six posts today instead of nine (that works out to fifteen pictures a post, if you're curious). You're welcome. :p

So, let's get started with -- farm chores! Yes, it may have been Victor and Smiler's wedding day, with bonus Victor and Alice vow renewal, but that doesn't mean they got a day off from their usual activities around the farm. So this is how they spent their morning prior to the big event:

-->Victor started off his day by taking a turn to feed the chickens, then got sent to make some more eco upgrade parts -- and I guess the fabricator actually likes him now, because it didn't try to attack him ONCE. I guess I'm glad, since he needs the eco upgrade parts (especially since I discovered that you CANNOT Copypasto them while he was feeding the chickens), but I do kinda miss dye-sprayed Victor from that one alternate timeline. Maybe one day in the future! :p Anyway, Shadow wandered in while he was finishing up said parts, and I discovered to my delight that they could become companions -- I promptly had them do so, then had Victor take Shadow out for an early-morning jog (discovering in the process that the community garden area has these mysterious blue lights hovering around the trees when it's dark! I don't know if my screenshot did it justice, but it was pretty cool :D).

-->Alice went right back to writing her latest book, "Vorpal Rhymes" -- if she's gonna be an official Bestselling Author aspiration-wise, she's gotta keep the books coming! This proved to be a little difficult, though, simply because Guidry kept coming in to chat and distract her. *sigh* Dude, I don't know why you keep trying to talk to her, you guys don't really vibe well. As shown when, upon finishing her book and finding herself needing a bath, she chose to transform into her werewolf form to lick herself clean, and Guidry immediately got all scared and annoyed with her for doing so. Sir -- sir, you are a ghost. A ghost with a storied history of being a paranormal investigator if we believe your in-game backstory! You should be at least somewhat used to this! *shakehead* Don't let him get you down, Alice -- I think your beast form is pretty neat.

-->Smiler probably had the easiest morning out of the three to start, just recycling a bunch of trash piles before heading to their robot bench to make more chatterbots and a computer chip for future robot upgrades. However, as they were finishing up that, I happened to look over at the chicken coop and noticed it was REEKING. O.o How did that happen? I promptly had them give it a scrub and dump some more feed out there for the chickens, since we do have a full coop. Always something when you live on a working farm!

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - part 1

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[pilot]

A bit over a week later Oscar was sitting in his rented car in the school’s parking lot, thinking about how this conversation could go. According to you, they were aware of the fact he had not known Oliver existed until recently, so he hoped they didn’t expect him to talk about what he was like. Sure, over the past week he asked you about him, he wanted to prepare for meeting him, but they hadn’t met in person. How could he know what to say? After taking a deep breath, he got out and went inside, feeling more nervous than he did when he was getting in the car before a race.

If he was this nervous now, what would he feel like before meeting his son? 

Spending years in a boarding school prepared him for this meeting, and the principal was everything he imagined him to be. He was polite, not making a fuss over the fact he was–let’s say–famous. He even apologized for the mess he caused, saying he understood it was probably quite a shock for him, but this was the protocol, and they couldn’t make an exception. Oscar kept nodding, even assuring him it was okay, although deep down he was still confused and unsure of things. 

All of this despite his conversation with his mother, who had been overjoyed when she saw a video of Oliver, saying he was truly just like him, and she couldn’t wait to have the chance to meet her grandchild in person. But she also told him maybe this was the best thing that could happen to him. Having a child is truly an experience, and since he was still five, they had the chance to have a wonderful relationship. “You say he loves F1. Just imagine how happy he would be if he could go to some race weekends with you. You could teach him so much about racing, and you could bond over that,” she said. 

After he parked in front of your house in the afternoon, Oscar went to the trunk to get everything he brought with himself. From signed merch from both himself and Lando–just to be sure–to toy racing cars, he had a wide variety of gifts. Something will hopefully become a favorite, an item that he would keep close to himself. Maybe he went overboard, maybe he could’ve brought only one thing, but he had no idea what Oliver liked, so he couldn’t pick just one item. 

“Please, don’t tell me you brought all this for him.”

He looked up with a questioning hum, only to find you standing next to him on the sidewalk. Seeing you again brought back memories of your time together, of all of your little adventures during the short time you spent together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you fled because you found out you were pregnant. If you didn’t leave him so suddenly, would things be different now? Would you be a big happy family? 

Clearing his throat, he flashed a sheepish smile at you. “I couldn’t choose,” he admitted as he grabbed the duffel bag and followed you to the front door. He couldn’t help but wonder what he could expect, and he had to ask you the most important thing. “Did you tell him that he was meeting his father today?” You nodded. That was good. “Is he excited?”

You bit on your lower lip as you watched him, clearly thinking about how to answer the question. But after a short break, you let out a sigh. “He’s a little confused, I think. My boyfriend, Alejandro, met him when he was only two, the three of us spent a lot of time together, and he moved in last year. Oliver… He assumed my boyfriend was his dad, which in a way he is, but we had to sit him down and explain the situation to him,” you said, looking sad all of a sudden. 

It was clear now why you were so against telling Oliver the truth. You wanted him to be close to your boyfriend, and you were probably afraid things between them would change once he got into the picture. Maybe you were even afraid things between you and your boyfriend would change too. He couldn’t blame you for that, but now that he knew he had a son, Oscar wanted to be a part of his life. He didn’t want to be some asshole who ignored his own blood. 

Once inside, he put the bag on the floor and followed you to the living room where Oliver was watching some cartoon on TV. Now that he saw him in person, he felt warmth spread through his body, because this kid looked exactly like he did at his age. You cleared your throat next to him to get your son’s attention, and when the kid noticed him, his eyes grew wide from surprise. He got off the couch and slowly walked over to them, his eyes never leaving his face as he tried to process who their guest was. 

“Hello, Oliver,” Oscar said as he crouched down. 

“You’re Oscar Piastri!” he yelled excitedly. 

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “I am.”

You reached out to ruffle your son’s hair, then leaned down to be on somewhat eye level with him. “Honey, remember when I said your daddy was going to jump in to see you?” The little boy nodded. “It’s Oscar. He’s your dad,” you told him softly.

Suddenly the excitement was replaced by disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you as he tried to process what he’d just been told. The corners of Oscar’s lips curled into a smile as he watched him, waiting patiently for the child’s decision. 

“So he’s my dad?” Oliver asked, earning a nod from you. “Does this mean I’m a Piastri?” It was Oscar’s turn to nod. “Mom, why am I not called Piastri?”

His eyes moved over to you just in time to see you gulp, clearly having trouble figuring out what to say to that. He couldn’t blame you for your confusion, it probably hadn’t occurred to you that one day you would have to respond to this question. With a kind smile, he put a hand on your arm, then turned to his son. “Because I’ve been away for a little too long. But I’m here, your mom and I can discuss if we could change that if you want,” he finished, barely daring to glance up at you, expecting to meet an angry look in your eyes.

But you didn’t look angry, if anything, you seemed relieved that he came to your rescue. There was a glint in your eyes, though, that told him you weren’t happy that Oliver brought up his surname. As he thought about it, it occurred to him that you had mentioned how you considered your boyfriend to be his father in a way, so maybe you would have rather given him his name. 

You placed a soft kiss on your son’s head, then informed him that you would leave the two of them alone so they could get to know each other. Father and son watched you leave the room, then he turned back to the child with a smile. “I brought you some things. Wanna see them?” he asked him, and when the little boy nodded, he went to grab his bag. 

As he opened the zipper, Oliver stood by his side, watching his every move with a happy smile on his face. Oscar pulled out the gifts, one by one, and couldn’t hold back his laugh as he watched his son proudly wearing his new baseball cap and shirt as he examined the toy car in his small hands. He began to talk about the last race, excitedly recounting the most memorable moments, including the end when his father crossed the finish line first. His big brown eyes turned to him, then he said that he was so happy he was here. 

When he wrapped his short arms around him, Oscar did the same and even pressed a kiss on the kid’s head. There was undeniably a certain connection between them that he couldn't explain, but they both knew it was there, otherwise his son probably wouldn't be this chill with the idea of being alone with a stranger. Okay, that and the fact he was his favorite driver.

They sat down in the middle of the living room, and Oliver decided to talk about his favorite books, proudly telling his father that he knew how to read, and that according to you and your boyfriend he was really good at it. “The other kids can barely read yet,” he said with a smug smile, “and I'm already learning math!”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Oscar asked him, but the boy only shook his head. “I should teach you. I started when I was younger than you, and my mom refused to play with me after a while.”

“Because you were so good?” 

With a shrug, he stretched his arms above his head. “I don't know, but I guess I was better than her. Not sure about other people, though,” he admitted with a warm smile.

Oliver let out a thoughtful hum. “Is she as awesome as my mom?” he suddenly asked, looking back at him. 

A laugh escaped him at the thought, which made his son tilt his head to the side in question. “That depends on who you ask. She loves to embarrass me online, which isn't always a good thing, but I love her, she's the best mum I could ask for. And there are a lot of people, especially my fans, who absolutely adore her for this gentle bullying,” he added with a laugh.

“My mom would never do that,” Oliver stated, his little nose scrunching at the thought. “She loves me too much.”

The two of them spent the next hour or so talking, sometimes stopping when the little boy got distracted by something he caught on TV. But he seemed interested, he wanted to learn as much as he could, and it was true the other way around, because Oscar asked a lot of questions too. He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until you walked in to tell your son it was time for dinner, a statement that came with the question whether or not his dad was allowed to stay. 

You didn’t let him stay, saying he was probably tired from traveling so much, then gave him a begging look to make him speak up too. Oscar let out a sigh and forced a smile on his face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m staying for a few days and your mum let me come to see you every day,” he said happily. “In fact, I’ll be looking out for you tomorrow while she’s at work. How does that sound?”

Oliver squealed from happiness before he hugged you both, thanking you over and over again for letting him come over. “Can we go to the zoo?” he asked with bright eyes as he looked over at his father. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” Oscar responded with a nod. 

“Okay, time to wash your hands, Alejandro will be home soon, so we can start to eat,” you asked your son. Once he said goodbye to Oscar and disappeared, you turned to him with a forced smile. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

With a sigh, he stepped closer to you. “You were right, he’s a lot like me,” he began quietly, then stopped to consider what to say. He knew deep down that you wanted him to stay away, you didn’t want him to ruin the balance of your little family, but how could he give you that after getting to know his son? Oliver was his blood, he was truly a mini version of him, there was no way he would turn his back on him now. 

You knew. After all these years, despite your time together being so short, you still knew him well enough to know what was going on in his head. “Just don’t break his heart, okay?” you asked, earning a nod from him. “Thanks for… everything. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Have a good night.”

tagged: @hc-dutch @nxlx96 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @laanswife @chunkpiboli @pakotrzl @1800-love-me

important: the taglist is closed. in fact, this might be the first and last time i'm doing this, because leaving someone out accidentally stresses me. sorry.

Anyway, what do you think? Should I continue?

[starkeyisthelastname]

stepbro!rafe jealous of reader and her bf at the christmas party.. then following her upstairs and fucking her while everyone else is out there

I went a little overboard. 🥴 this is very dirty. You’ve been warned

Rafe had no idea what you saw in that bozo, Chad. He was a kook who was perfect in the eyes of Ward and your mother. Attending Chapel Hill, excellent grades, a gentleman, gave back to the community. All things he was not or had given up due to his addiction to coke or constant disappointment from his father. The problem was that Chad didn’t know you like he did. He watched with squinted blue eyes as you giggled at something the douche had said. You two stood by the glittering Christmas tree as Sarah took a picture of the two of you.

The mini Burberry skirt you wore that barely covered your ass, had his cock straining against the khaki pants he wore. The fact that, that asshole got to be by your side all a night during this party had his blood boiling. He downed the amber liquid in his glass as he watched you tell Sarah that you had forgotten something upstairs. With the party busy, he easily followed you up the immaculate staircase towards your room.

Humming a Christmas song, you skipped over to the decorated pink Christmas tree in the corner of your room. Bending down, you picked up the gift you had forgotten only to hear the door shut and lock behind you. You turned around to see Rafe, eyes almost black as his jaw tensed while he looked at you. “You are quite the good little actress aren’t you.” He cracked out, voice low. “Your perfect little boyfriend has no idea that the same lips that kissed him tonight were wrapped around my cock this morning does he?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the memory of sucking your step-brother’s cock in the shower that morning. It was more than wrong. Not only because you had a boyfriend but hello because he was your step-brother. Your step-brother who had a dick that was made for you. You began to stutter out something when his tall frame stalked towards you, hand gripping your throat. “You are gonna lay here and take my dick while your dumbass boyfriend looks for you downstairs.”

He shoved you onto your perfectly made bed, ring adored hand ripping the $340.00 designer tights. The red jeweled thong you wore was torn off, while his hand that was on your neck came down to release his monster from the confinement of his Calvin Klein’s. He pulled you closer, one leg resting on his broad shoulder while the other was bent back towards your chest. “Gimme your phone.” He demanded.

You didn’t even have time to ask why when he grabbed it from where it sat on one of your furry pillows. He unlocked it, the familiar ding of taking a video making your head perk up. “Rafe- what are you do-..” You were cut off by him slamming in all nine inches into your slick cunt, making you let out a gasp instead. Your phone getting a closeup view of your step-brother’s cock sliding in and out of your leaking pussy.

“Shit- look at that my man Chad. Look at the mess your girlfriend is making on my dick.” Rafe chuckled as the camera captured the sounds of your squelching pussy. His thrusts sped up at a pace you knew only Rafe could make happen. Whimpers and whines being the only sounds you could make out, as he bruised your cervix. You knew exactly what he was doing. Taking a video to send to the same boyfriend you were just taking pictures with.

“Tell him that you are taking your step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” The older boy spit out, his free hand gripping your hair to make you look directly at the camera. You couldn’t find words, looking completely cock drunk, despite your makeup still being flawless. Your breath began to shallow as you could already feel your orgasm coming strong.

“Tell him or I’ll fucking spot right now.”

You shuttered, your hands gripping the fluffy duvet while you looked at the camera. “No- please don’t daddy.” You cry out, Rafe’s favorite nickname making him want to blow right there. “I’m taking my step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” Your climax hitting hard as you squirted all over Rafe’s NorthFace fleece.

Your thighs shook as you came down from your high, collapsing onto the bed and listening to the sounds above you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” Rafe grunted, pulling out quickly as he aimed his seed on your tongue, your pretty face accidentally getting covered in it as more unexpectedly shoots out.

The video was sent to Chad with the caption underneath reading.

Merry Christmas.

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  Decorating Sakura’s Room 『 ♡ sakura haruka x reader 』

content // after seeing sakura's empty room for the first time, you're determined to make him feel more at home with a few additions.

note // tumblr decided not to post this yesterday for softie sunday lol so here it is!

Sakura's always deterred you from coming back to his place for your date nights, avoiding the topic altogether by offering to meet up at Pothos or to watch movies at your place instead. For the first month or so of dating, you didn't question it much, but now? It's getting suspicious. What did he have to hide from you?

"C'mon, we always go to my apartment. Why do you never have me over?"

Your demand has Sakura sweating, unable to come up with a logical excuse to keep you away any longer. He knows damn well that you can see right through his lies...and he has a terrible poker face around you.

"Fine, but don't expect much," he mutters, stomping passed you and continuing down the street. When you approach his front door, he takes a deep breath before twisting the handle.

"Do you not lock your door?!" You exclaim, noticing he didn't have a set of keys on him. "Saku, that's dangerous as hell!"

"S'not a big deal," he mumbles before kicking his shoes off into the corner, completely ignoring the shoe rack behind the door. "Don't have anythin' to steal, anyways."

You're confused by his words until you get a decent look at the apartment. It's...bare. Not a single decorative item in sight.

"Did you just move into this place?" you ask, confused. You're slowly making your way back to his bedroom, awestruck by the lack of evidence that anyone lives here.

"Nah, been here since I got to Makochi."

You turn to face him, a sad glint in your eyes before shaking your head. It makes him swallow nervously, the tips of his ears warming by the second. You don't say another word about it for the rest of the day.

A couple days pass until the two of you have plans again. You insist to meet at Sakura's place, and after lots of begging, he begrudgingly agrees. When you finally arrive to his place, you can barely knock on the door with how full your hands are with numerous bags of gifts. He opens the door as your mid-swing with your foot to "knock," immediately overwhelmed by the amount of stuff on your person.

"Th' hell is all this?!" Sakura shouts while attempting to grab a few of the bags from your hands. "Yer like a walkin' target with all this! Get in here already!"

"Sorry, Saku. I couldn't help it."

Sakura places the bags on the floor, slowly peaking through them to investigate just what the hell you've unloaded into his space. There are tons of essential items in neutral tones - a few sets of towels, a bath mat, two pillows and silk cases, a 4 set of plates and bowls, silverware, a pair of black house slippers, a brand new reusable water bottle, a water filter for the fridge, and a picture frame.

"I might've went a little overboard," you say sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I felt bad you didn't have anything to make your home feel like your own. So I got you some things to warm it up, make it feel more permanent and a place you like, not just one you sleep in."

Sakura's speechless - devastated, even. He can't comprehend what he did to deserve your sweetness, biting his lip to keep his emotions caged. His cheeks are ablaze as he picks up the picture frame, noticing the plastic film is missing and there's a familiar set of pictures behind the glass.

"I went ahead and put in the pictures we took at the photo booth from the theater on our first date, you don't need to keep⎯ "

Your silenced by Sakura's lips capturing yours, his shaky hands cradling your face. Your squeak of surprise makes his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he whispers as you part, moving to wrap you up in a tight hug. "Yer...always so warm, like bein' under the sun on a hot day. I'm still getting used to that feelin', but this helps more than you know."

Your heart swells as you lay your head on his shoulder, absorbing all of his affection in the moment.

"Of course, Sakura. You deserve to be happy and feel like you belong."

His grip tightens on your shirt, a shiver running down his spine at your words. One day, he'll be able to tell you how you've made him feel at home for awhile now, and that the material possession are a nonfactor.

You pull back from his hug and pat him on the shoulders. "I'll help you put everything away and whatnot."

The two of you spend the next hour unpacking all of the goodies you've bought, leaving the picture frame for last. Sakura grabs the frame and paces the apartment a few times, pondering where exactly he wants to put it until the perfect spot pops into his mind.

Right above the shoe rack so you can welcome him home every single day with your bright smile.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

[sourpeachsayshi]

Praise kink with Nanami, please😭

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: therapist!nanami; client!reader; guided; forbidden; doctor-patient relationship; size kink(?)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: I went overboard with this one.

nanami's eyes darken, his glasses resting just below the bridge of his nose, irises blurring like the haze between night and day. he uncrosses then crosses his legs, desperately trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. his notebook is still resting comfortably on his lap, one of his hands fidgeting with the pen that he lightly taps against the paper, while the other traces the outline of his lip.

your legs are spread apart, your skirt flipped up, underwear pulled to the side. your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the lace fabric of your pretty, pretty bra. the sight of your cunt forms a knot in his throat, which he swallows while trying to forget the many nights he's jacked off picturing himself fucking you.

the one who came to him after leaving her horrible husband. who has struggled to find any sexual pleasure ever since, and who timidly admitted that she finds her underwear soaked after every session with dr. kento.

"I don't think," you sigh, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "I don't think this will work..."

"but you look good," he reassures, noticing your lashes flutter at his words. "Wet. I can see it from here..."

your face burns with embarrassment, and you part your lips to say something though no words come out.

"just keep listening, okay? you're doing really well for me, I promise this will help," he lies through his teeth, his cheeks tinting a shade of crimson of him abusing his role. "your middle and index finger, use it to rub your clit, not too fast...nice and easy..."

you oblige, and that doesn't take him by surprise. you listen to his guidance, start massaging the nub of your clit gently. a few minutes pass, but he's busy paying attention to your reactions. the way your breath hitches and your chest hiccupping as you try to stifle a moan.

"don't hold it in," he coos, "give in to your natural reactions. it's okay, I'm right here. I'm watching you, helping you. you trust me, right?"

"yes, doctor," you whimper and he hums in response.

"feels good?"

"uh-huh"

"you sound lovely, like you're enjoying it..."

"mmph~"

"faster. add a little more pressure, that's right..." he continues, "how do you feel?"

"warm-" you add, breathless and needy which only fuels his desire. "I l-like it, I like how it feels..."

"This is excellent progress, I'm proud of you," he praises, a hint of a devious smile ticking the corner of his lip. "try putting a finger in, there you go..."

his eyes narrow as you sink your middle finger into your hole. you gasp in slight shock, taken aback that you actually enjoyed the tiny stretch. nanami nearly snaps the pen his half. knowing full well that the length and thickness of his fingers would do far, far better.

you pump in and out, so slowly like you're trying to figure out what pacing you prefer. "doctor kento," you moan, though you are not addressing him with anything specific except to simply call out his name.

his cock twitches.

he takes his glasses off, and folds it neatly between his pressed shirt. he closes his notebook, the page filled with mindless scribbles that he put together to distract himself from being aroused by you.

"when we discussed your sex life prior to your marriage, you mentioned you enjoyed receiving oral," he states.

you gaze up at him with doe eyes from underneath your lashes, finger fucking yourself tenderly as you shake your head in confirmation.

he gets up from his seat, takes a few steps closer as he carefully rolls up his sleeve. he kneels before you, the afternoon light sparkling against his golden hair. his face far too close to your cunt.

"a more manual approach might do you some good," he mumbles, his large palms reaching for your plush thighs.

the heat burns behind your ears and down your neck, your muscles in your lower belly start quivering with delight and anticipation.

"you're gorgeous, by the way," he admits, dropping his professional mask and allowing his inner thoughts to speak on his behalf. "it's a shame your ex couldn't appreciate that..."

he moves on hand to circle around your wrist and draws it away from your soaking cunt. he brings your shaking fingers to his lips to taste your essence before releasing you with a pop.

"so sweet," he purrs. he drops your wrist, his hands smoothing over your inner thigh and over the curve of your pelvis. when he looks up at you, you almost don't recognize the devilish expression on the face of such a gentleman. "you deserve to feel this good. may I?"

you melt into the pillow behind you, your heart pounding so hard against your chest it makes the room around you spin.

"we'll go for as long as you can handle. alright, sweetheart?"

"yes, doctor kento"

"good girl," he murmurs, the depth of his voice making you tremble in your seat. "such a good girl..."

your eyes roll to the back of your head, a cry leaving your lips that sounds like an ache when he brings his tongue to your sex and drags upward along the glittering slit.

no more secrets x

[idksmtms]

willow (Cillian Murphy x Actress!reader) - evermore series

evermore series

A/N: I had an idea up on my masterlist about falling in love with Cillian while filming a movie so I just decided to merge it with this. Also I saw the picture of him and Emily Blunt walking in costume on the set of Oppenheimer and I thunk thoughts. (sidenote: I cannot write a summary to save my life) 

Extra info: I never say the title of the movie you guys are filming in the fic because I didn’t really want to get too detailed about it, but then I thought of the plot of The Delinquent Season the entire time lmao (I just changed random things because I’m a sucker for an age gap). Also, we’re pretending Oppenheimer hasn’t happened yet because it works for the story. 

Edit: I feel like the ending sucks but I’m too tired to change it. Sorry. 

Summary: When you met Cillian Murphy on set, you were already a fan. When you left, you were so much more…

Word count: 9,772  (oh my gosh I went so overboard with this…) 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, age gap, PinV sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, toxic!Cillian, like 0 communication between characters, secret relationship, not proofread but they never are (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You met Cillian Murphy for the first time five hours before you kissed him. Despite being cast in the lead female role, you were a rather late addition to the movie. Issues had come up with the actress initially cast and you had gotten a phone call about two months before shooting started to get yourself to the studio to sign contracts and start costume fittings. This was an amazing opportunity, and regardless of the rush, you were excited to have it. You had been in movies before, of course, but this was your first lead role and if you did a good enough job, it could skyrocket your career trajectory. Aside from all the good things it could do for your career, you were simply excited to get to work, and to get to work with such a good cast and filmmaker. 

On top of all of that, you would be working closely alongside the Cillian Murphy. When you were told that he was to be your costar, you had been in shellshock for a moment before pressing an obnoxious kiss to your agent’s cheek. Cillian Murphy was one of those actors that only came around once in a lifetime. He was only in tasteful, and well done projects, playing a variety of the most interesting characters you had ever watched. You had seen Peaky Blinders, Inception, Dunkirk, and though you had no interest in superhero movies, you sat down and watched all three Batman movies just to watch him play a villain. In the few interviews you had done up to now, you had mentioned once or twice that you believed him to be the best actor of your lifetime, someone who was left unrecognised at awards shows but deserved all of them and more (as you walked onto set for the first time, you really hoped he hadn’t seen any of those interviews). So, to say you were a fan before the movie might have been an understatement, but you had worked with other people who you were fans of before, and Tom Glynn-Carney only had nice things to say about you afterward; you could be professional and a fan. 

You had been put up in a hotel the night before you were to be driven to the studio lot, your new home for however long you were going to be filming there, and in the morning a polite chauffeur arrived in a blacked out car to take you there. You felt a little giddy during the drive, as you always did before starting a new project. You hadn’t learnt the rhythms of the set yet, the director’s process, whether it would be a rush of technical work or a more relaxed set. You hadn’t worked with most of the other actors, you didn’t know how they approached the job, whether they were welcoming and friendly or preferred to focus on the job then return to solitude. It was all the unknowns that made your stomach feel swoopy, but you had come to like the feeling, viewed it as a challenge, the beginnings of an investigation to learn about your job and home for the rest of the duration of the project. 

You were deposited into the custody of one of the many assistants running around, and hurriedly walked to your trailer with a warning that you would only have five minutes to put your things down, change into your costume, possibly have a sip of water, before you would be taken to hair and makeup and given your costume. You smiled brightly at her, nodding and affirming her over and over that you understood. Your first actual job on a movie set had been as an assistant, you knew her job was hard enough without an actor giving her attitude, so you simply followed her. 

The area you walked through was like the other studio lots you had been to before, large buildings that looked like warehouses on the outside but probably held the coolest sets or the most intricate technology on the inside. People drove around in golf carts, some assistants sprinted while yelling down the phone, others hurriedly rolled clothing racks between buildings. You could see someone giving an interview in the distance but they were too far away for you to tell who it was. 

The trailer you were led to was in a wide space filled with other trailers, what you imagined the setup area for a circus looked like. It was bland and white on the outside, your name in big letters surrounded by the shape of a star (some intern clearly had fun with Canva) on the door, and you felt that bubble of excitement all over again. You let the assistant open the door for you, thanking her and shooting her a smile as if inviting her to join in on the excitement you felt before stepping in. It was exactly as you had expected it to be, and that made you happier than anything else. There was a small kitchenette area with cupboards and a minifridge. A counter separated it from a little seating area, couch seats against either wall, before a tiny hallway (which could barely be called a hallway) that had the door to the bathroom on one side and led into a little bedroom (which was just a bed with a little space on the side to walk and nothing else). Your clothes were hung up on a little hook on the bathroom door. 

You deposited your tote bag on the counter and went to the minifridge, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a big gulp. Ice cold and delicious. You scrunched yourself up and did a happy little jump and squeal because you were living the dream, and nothing could be better than that. You messaged your parents and friends that you had arrived, sent pictures and a little video of the trailer, before picking up your costume and getting into the little bedroom to change. 

It was a simple pair of mom jeans, well fitted and slightly higher than your ankle, accompanied with a plain white blouse that had blue detailing around the neck and off the shoulder sleeves that ended just after your elbow, something you could imagine a mum wearing on vacation in Greece. It was comfortable, and you made a little note to ask the costume designer where she got the pieces because it may or may not have been the best pair of jeans you had ever worn. 

You were able to take another big gulp of water before a knock and a voice at the door was telling you to get to hair and makeup. The trailer for hair and makeup was closer to the actual block of buildings you would be filming in, and a little golf cart was ready to take you there. You let out a little laugh as you settled yourself inside, chatting with the driver as he manoeuvred around people and other obstacles to get you there. 

It was quieter in this corner of the studio, more people walking than running, less things being shifted around in a hurry, and you felt a sense of calm in the air (or at least whatever semblance of calm one could get on a movie set). The driver stopped right in front of the doors and you thanked him, laughing at the parting joke he told you about a dog getting loose in the lot. You went up the first two steps for the trailer when the door swung open and you had to jump back to avoid being slammed into the wall with it. Someone came walking out with their head down, turning back to smile at someone else who had wished them goodluck from within the trailer. They paused when they finally noticed you, and you opened your mouth to say something but not a word came out. They smiled with a huff of a chuckle, and all you could think was that he was so much more beautiful in person than what any camera could capture. 

“I hope I didn’t whack you with the door,” he winced apologetically and you just took a deep breath in, shaking your head then breathing out quickly and laughing at yourself. 

“No, no, I just managed to avoid it,” you breathed out, giggling because your stomach was suddenly tingling and you couldn’t quite feel your hands (or maybe you could feel them too much). 

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “would not have been a good way to introduce myself. Cillian Murphy,” he held out his hand, smiling and polite, his eyes piercing through your skin. They were so bright, so blue. You blinked then kept staring into them as you brought your hand gently into his, hoping your grip wasn’t too limp nor too firm. 

“Y/n L/n, it is so nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard to hide how starstruck I am and I think I’m failing,” you admitted, cheeks suddenly burning. You always talked when you were nervous, which meant you always overshared when you were nervous. But he just laughed, a deep chuckle that made his chest shake and drew your attention to it. He was broader than you, and wearing a cosy looking black sweater that you desperately wanted to push your face against and feel rub against your cheek. The sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and you could see the round collar of a white t-shirt poking out at the neck. 

“Don’t worry, you were doing a good job so far, until you admitted it anyway,” he did that little huff-laugh again and you pressed a hand to your face, scrunching your eyes shut in shame at the bombardment of thoughts running through your head that made you feel brainless at the same time. 

“Alright, well then,” you laughed, shaking your head and stepping to the side so he could finally walk past you (which you thought he had wanted to do the entire time but was too polite to point out). “I’m sorry for keeping you trapped here, I’ll let you go wherever you need to go Mr. Murphy.” 

“Please, it’s Cillian,” he frowned in that way that said ‘don’t bother with such formality’, and waved the hand in the air that was carrying his script as if to bat the title away. 

“Right, sorry, Cillian,” and you smiled brightly because he was looking at you with those beautiful, beautiful, eyes, and watched him walk down the steps, wave back at you, run a hand through his hair that had been styled messily, and head for the door of the first building. 

When he had disappeared through the door, you slammed the heel of your hand against your forehead until it stung a little and made it feel like your brain had moved around in your head, grumbling “Mr. Murphy? Seriously? You’re an adult too, ya know? You can call people by their first names now, for fuck’s sake.” 

Cillian chewed on his lip as he sat in the foldable chair on set, waiting for everything else to be set up, his co-star to arrive, and the director to start dictating everything. He enjoyed these few minutes before filming, they helped him focus in on the set, get into the mind of his character, evaluate the situation and what would be needed from him. But he had a little extra time today, and he didn’t mind either because his mind was a little distracted. 

He didn’t think he had ever been called ‘Mr. Murphy’ by a co-star, and it made him laugh because it felt a little ridiculous, but it also made him wonder if you were just young or overly respectful. A quick google search told him you were younger, much younger, but didn’t necessarily answer the question. 

Regardless, he liked you, thus far anyway. He liked the way you looked, your hair was pretty and you had kind eyes, and you smelled nice, a soft flowery perfume. And he liked your voice too, a little loud sometimes, a little too quiet others, but it was nice. He hadn’t seen any of your movies, but he was feeling positive about you. Perhaps too positive, but he shut down that thought process with a snap. 

The makeup artist was best friends with the hairdresser and they were both some of the sweetest people you had ever met. They chatted with you the entire time, laughed at your story of embarrassing yourself in front of Cillian, comforted you that he was a nice, easygoing man who wouldn’t hold it against you, and offered you the little snacks they had lying around. Your hair was put into a simple braid, slicked down with pommade to control the flyaways you were plagued with, and the makeup was so natural you would question if you were wearing any if you hadn’t been there while she was rubbing and brushing the products onto your face. 

The costume designer had left some jewellery for you with them, and they helped you clasp the necklace and earrings while you rummaged in your bag for your script. The director had come in while your hair was being done and told you about some of the last-minute changes to the script and the scenes that were being filmed. The ‘first kiss’ scene was going to be filmed at the end of the day instead of in two weeks time because of scheduling complications and the intimacy coordinator would work with you and Cillian during the break at midday while they filmed some of the scenes that didn’t have either of you in them. You had simply nodded, you couldn’t have argued anyway, you didn’t have any authority here even if you had a lead role, and just told him you’d look over your script and mark it out. He had patted you on the shoulder with a smile and hurried back out and you had resisted the urge to press your face into your hands lest you ruin the makeup. 

Of course you were a little annoyed, you had been told to prepare for certain scenes and those were the scenes you had prepared for, but as you took deep breaths and rifled through the many pieces of advice your therapist had given you, you knew this wasn’t a problem to waste your feelings on. They would be lenient because of the last minute change, and if they weren’t originally then they would have to be because you weren’t a magician. A few deep breaths and reading your lines for the first scene you would be filming calmed you down and returned you to the necessary headspace for filming. 

You thanked both the makeup artist and hairdresser, then put in your headphones as you slowly walked toward the set. You needed to be in a sombre mood, needed to feel that apathy and sadness clawing at the edges of your mind. Your character was struggling, her life was falling apart and she felt like she had no solution, only minor escapes during her trysts with Jim, Cillian’s character. You tucked the script under your arm as you got to the set, taking out your earbuds and looking around for the director. You met eyes with Eva Birthistle who smiled widely and waved at you, excusing herself from the assistant director and walking over to you. 

“Hello, hello!” She hugged you tightly and you returned the greeting against her shoulder. 

Eva was the only member of the cast you had gotten to meet before filming began. One of your fittings had been at the same time as hers and you both had gotten to chatting about the movie. She was an absolute sweetheart, someone you could see as a mentor for yourself, and you were glad to see a familiar face on the set other than the director, a bonus that it was one as welcoming as hers. She wrapped her arm over your shoulder and led you over to the cluster of chairs behind the camera where Cillian was already seated, chatting with Andrew Scott. They both looked up and smiled at the two of you as you came and sat down on the remaining two chairs, Eva already engaging them in conversation. 

Looking at all of them sitting there, it hit you for the first time that you were the youngest person here, in both age and experience. These were all people who had done multiple movies in a variety of roles, had been acting by the time you were born, and had made names for themselves. A wave of shyness hit you that you scolded yourself for, your cheeks burning as you sat down and shook hands with Andrew. Thankfully, the wave didn’t last, because Eva and Andrew were chatty, and both ready to include you in the conversation. 

You were glad for this little moment, though it took you out of the headspace of the character you were trying to settle into. These were all people you would be acting closely with, yelling at or kissing on camera for the next few months, and the more comfortable you could get with them the better. 

Andrew was sweet, asking you questions about past jobs, the interview process, how you felt about your character, an endless supply of questions, jokes, and responses that made him an instant friend. Eva chimed in with her own stories and jokes, piling on top of his and making you laugh until your stomach hurt. Cillian was quieter, only speaking when directly spoken to or simply laughing along with the jokes, but his simple presence was enough for you to feel warm in your bones and excited at the prospect of acting with him. He was so nonchalant, so calm and focused but not deterrent or rude. While you seemed to learn a multitude about both Eva and Andrew, you learnt little about Cillian other than that he preferred living in Ireland to anywhere else. 

You thought maybe it was better that you didn’t get to know him too much. It would make the intimate scenes feel less personal, less intense. He genuinely was one of the most beautiful people you had ever seen and it was too easy for an actor to fall prey to the emotions of a scene in real life. You didn’t want to suddenly be sitting there after a sex scene wondering how similar it was to the real deal with him. You were here to do your job and nothing more. 

The conversation had quieted down as different checks were done on set and it was almost time for you all to convene with the director to get filming started. Cillian was reading quietly from his script, a pair of rectangular glasses with rounded edges and dark rims sat on his nose as he rubbed his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip. You watched him for a moment, the soft movement of his lips as he silently formed the words. Then the director was calling you all up and you felt like you were being snapped out of a trance you hadn’t known you had entered in the first place. 

“Alright, you guys have had a small dinner get-together at Jim and Danielle’s house. This is a sort of regular thing, every couple of weeks, maybe once a month, you have this dinner get-together. You’re all sitting at the dining table across from each other, picking at the final pieces of your meals. Jim and Danielle’s children are asleep upstairs and you guys are simply drinking wine and talking.” He walked you all over to the dining table and pointed out the seats, sitting you down first next to Eva before scrapping the idea and having you sit across from her and beside Andrew. Once you had all been assigned your seats, he turned to Eva and Cillian. 

“You two have been married for a long time, you have two children, you’re in a place in your lives where you believe you’re simply secure in your relationship, but if anyone pokes into this it’s fragile, and you’re not sure if you’re secure and still in love, or you’re just going through the motions of a life you have lived for a long time and don’t actually enjoy. You don’t question anything anymore, just go to work, come home, kiss each other, cook dinner, have a little chat before bed, and do it all over again, day by day.” Then he turned to you and Andrew. He looked at you for a moment before reaching out, pausing just before touching you and silently asking if it was alright. You nodded happily, and he gently pulled your braid to rest over one of your shoulders, moved the pendant on your necklace so it rested a little more to the left, and pulled one of your sleeves a little further down so just the edge of your bra strap was exposed. 

“You two have also been married for a while, but things are a little different. You married Chris right after graduating uni, most of your adult life has been married life. Chris is older, was already pushing forty when you guys got married. All of your friends are his age, mostly couple friends, and you’ve always felt pushed into this older, more mature role, that you don’t necessarily feel successful in. You lean on him quite a bit during these situations, deferring to him to answer difficult questions or when talking about your family life. Chris takes this in stride, it’s how it has always been in your relationship, even after years of marriage and a child. Chris is struggling silently recently, he’s easier to anger, feels a little distant, but honestly? You don’t even realise. You don’t know what he’s hiding, you don’t even know that he’s hiding anything. Andrew, the weight of the disease, hiding it from his family, all those private struggles, are always in the back of Chris’s mind, ok?” Both of you nodded and as you went to sit down at the table, he beckoned you and Cillian over to the side saying, “just a moment.” 

Cillian stood next to you with his arms crossed, the black sweater still pushed up to his elbows, and the edge just brushed against the skin of your arm. You shivered and stretched out your neck for a moment, a nervous tick, before returning your eyes to the director speaking in a low voice. 

“Alright, you two are sitting diagonally to each other at the table. You guys take the term ‘friends’ loosely. You’re friends because she’s friends with Danielle and you’re Danielle’s husband. You’re friends because you’re both couples who are friends, but you’ve never spoken to each other without your spouses in the room. Ok? But there is a little bit of intrigue, I guess. You glance at each other, not for long, just barely a look, or you meet eyes while one of you is talking to the group. I don’t want chemistry, I want the possibility of chemistry. Jim is laidback, especially compared to her husband. She’s pretty and young, especially compared to the other people at the table. I don’t want to notice anything between you yet, I want to come back and watch the movie one day in the future and suddenly notice that there’s something there, but too subtle to hint at the future affair. Ok?” You nodded as he spoke, feeling yourself settle into that focus you usually found just before filming, no more smile and twinkle in your eye. “Alright, break a leg,” and he was walking back to the cameras. You turned to Cillian for a second and he nodded at you, those eyes that you would never forget looking over your face for a moment before he headed for his seat at the table. You clenched your jaw for a second, staring at his back as he walked away, before shaking your head and holding it up high on your way to the table. 

“Alright, change costumes, change the lighting, we’re moving to the living room scene for the next couple of hours, I need the kids and Eva there, please. Cillian and Y/n, head down to studio three after changing, the intimacy coordinator is already there, you have a couple of hours to get it together before we start filming. Hop to it everyone!” 

You were happy to be moving on. Though you had been in films that took even longer for singular scenes, you were starting to feel stale in that environment and reverting to the exact same routine over and over. An assistant was quick to come up alongside you and direct you back to hair and makeup. 

“Your costume is already there, and once everything’s been changed, someone else will come get you to take you to studio three,” he told you, not once looking at you but rather at the clipboard in his hand filled with typed and handwritten notes. 

“Ok, thank you,” you nodded, watching the assistant nod goodbye before doubling back to find Cillian to relay the same information. You stood still and watched him for a moment, the glasses tucked into the neck of his sweater as he nodded at the assistant. 

The longer hair looked good on him, you thought. It was going a little grey in the places around his ears but you liked it more that way. His cheekbones cast shadows on his face in the dim light, but you could still see the faint freckles over his nose and the very light smattering he had on his neck. You could even see the freckles on his forearms and it made something warm bloom in your stomach. He looked up and directly at you. Those eyes… those eyes you could spend hours talking about, uncaring that you probably repeated yourself multiple times simply because of how beautiful they were. You smiled, something that could just barely be considered a smile with only the corners of your lips twitching up for barely a moment and your eyes fluttering, before turning away and walking out of the studio. 

You ended up changing in the corner of the hair and makeup trailer, both the women standing with their backs turned to you as they organised pins and palettes and chatted away. Your next costume was a set of oversized mauve-coloured pyjamas that felt a little too thin for your liking. You were a little relieved that it was only the first kissing scene being filmed. You had read the entire script twice over, and you knew about the other scenes to come that required a lot more of you. You had only ever filmed one ‘intimate’ scene before, and even that had only been a rather simple kissing scene. While this scene was definitely more than that, it didn’t feel as big of a leap on the first day simply because it cut off after the kiss. 

Your hair was let down from its braid, mussed up with the hairdresser’s hands and sprayed with hairspray. All your makeup was wiped off before they went to work again. Dabs of eyeshadow in strategic places made your eyes look slightly puffy, like you just woke up from a haggard sleep. Purple under eyes appeared out of nowhere and the faintest bruise was brought to life on your right cheekbone. Little dabs of red on your lips made them look bitten and your nails were chopped roughly to look like you had been chewing on them on and off. Again, you thanked the women and in a simple pair of slippers made your way outside to meet with the assistant responsible for guiding you to studio three. 

It looked like a school drama studio on the inside, with blackout curtains hung all the way around, a black linoleum floor and big wood blocks wrapped in fuzzy material pushed to the edges of the room. You would have taken your shoes and socks off outside the room out of habit if you had known what it looked like on the inside. You smiled to yourself at the thought, before quickly shuffling over to where Cillian stood talking to two women who looked like the opposites of each other. One was dressed in plain white pants, a white blouse tucked neatly into said pants, and a cream coloured cardigan. The other wore a poncho-style dress that fluttered as she moved her arms and was covered in dizzying bohemian patterns. Ten necklaces were draped over her chest, anything from chains to rope, and she had a bandana neatly wrapped to keep her hair out of her face. 

“Hi! I hope I’m not late!” You called, stopping just beside Cillian and smiling at the two women who looked old enough to be your grandmothers (the realisation that you would be making out with someone right in front of them was not a pleasant one). 

“Not at all, we were just talking about boundaries,” Poncho Lady told you warmly, reaching out to shake your hand. The one in the cardigan followed suit, though she was quieter, and you simply smiled brightly at both of them before waiting for instruction.

“Alright, give your scripts here and just stand in front of each other.” Poncho Lady gently pried the script from your hand, took your tote bag from your shoulder, and set them both down on one of the wood blocks Cardigan Lady had pulled over. “Ok, so we’re just here to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable doing this scene, that no one pushes past any hard boundaries, and to make it seem natural without being unprofessional. Now, before you get to it, is there any place on your body that you would be uncomfortable with your partner touching?” You shook your head and watched Cillian mimic the reaction. 

Awkwardness was cloying at the back of your neck and you desperately wanted to open your mouth and make a stupid comment about how it would just look weird in the movie if he grabbed you between the legs anyway, and it took every ounce of your willpower to keep your mouth shut. “Alright! Let’s get started then! We’ll interrupt when needed.” You turned to fully face Cillian, tilting your head back slowly when you realised how close he was standing. He was still wearing the same jeans and sweater, but the shirt underneath had been changed to a black one, the neck perpetually poking out. 

You dipped your head down again, pressing your hand to your face as you began rambling about how stupid you were and how insane it was for you to be asking him to have an affair with you. Your eyes were squeezed so tight you could see white flashes on the backs of your eyelids. Then, gently, he was interrupting you, voice low as he told you that it was fine, everything was fine, you did nothing wrong, he completely understood, you were tired, emotional after everything. But you kept berating, spitting out words about how he was so good looking and so loyal and you were you, a horrible friend and obviously never a second thought on his mind. And then he was cutting you off, rambling in return about how you’re a beautiful woman, and he can’t lie that he hasn’t thought about you, he’s a man who can appreciate beauty after all. But he could see that you weren’t calming down, could see you slowly folding in on yourself in your panic. Then he was grabbing your hand. Gentle, soft fingers wrapping around your wrist, skin warm and making your own feel tingly. You took a deep breath, your chest visibly shaking, and he brought his other hand to your chin, slowly tilted your head back up to look him in the eye with his fingertips. You blinked, eyes big and wide, and he pressed your hand to his chest, covering it with his own. 

The sweater was so soft under your fingertips, and you desperately wanted it for yourself. His palm was warm on top of yours, warm and firm and unrelenting. You tuned into the sensation of his heart, a wild beating, and your face changed to just hint at concern. 

“Can you feel that?” He asked, voice so low it was almost a whisper. 

“It’s racing,” you breathed out, flexing your fingers against his chest so they caught a bit more of the material of his sweater. 

“Yeah,” he huffed out with a smile, and you moved just a little closer, reaching down to grab his other hand and pressing it to your own chest. His fingertips were a little cold, and your entire body shivered, a small sound leaving your lips. Your fingers were slightly threaded with his, and you pressed his palm to the place where your collar split away and exposed your chest. His hand covered so much of your chest, his pinky and index dipping under the fabric, and was so gentle on its own that you pressed it more firmly against the skin. You wanted his fingerprints imprinted on your skin. He breathed out shakily, almost loudly, and your next breath mimicked it as you closed your eyes. It was so hot in the room.

Both of you stood there feeling each other’s heartbeats for a moment, his head dipped lower so your foreheads almost touched. You were standing so close you could feel each other’s breaths against your lips and the sides of your noses just brushed every so often. He gulped, licking his lips as sweat began to build on the back of his neck and the need to rip the sweater off was soaring in priority in his mind. Your lips just brushed each other, cupid's bows just grazing- 

“Alright, so that’s where you say ‘feel my breast’ and begin guiding his hand under your shirt,” Poncho Lady interjected, looking up from the script in her hands. 

You let go of Cillian’s hand and stepped back quickly. It felt like stepping into an air conditioned room from a hot sunny day outside. Your insides were still warm, and the heat that had been tinging your skin hadn’t completely gone away, but you were more awake, more aware. You licked your lips and gave a small smile that you hoped didn’t betray the sudden embarrassment falling upon you. 

You had been in the scene, you had been lost in it. There had been times before when you were acting and when stopped abruptly felt like you were suddenly reentering your body, like your soul had been extracted for a few moments into a different person and then quickly pulled back and thrust into its original form. But this was a different level. This had been you and not you at the same time. You had been doing those things, had wanted to do those things, but you were also being controlled by something outside yourself, being told to do those things. You quietly excused yourself, saying you had left your water bottle in the hair and makeup trailer and would just quickly run and get it. As you turned back one last time at the door, you watched Cillian run a hand through his hair and smile at Poncho Lady as if nothing had happened since he had walked into the room. 

After the door closed behind you, Cillian happened to glance at your tote bag on the block, and saw your water bottle peaking out. He laughed quietly to himself as he sat down next to it. 

He understood how you were feeling. Intimate scenes were always hard, regardless of how many times an actor has done it. Especially intimate scenes when two people have palpable chemistry. If Poncho Lady hadn’t interrupted, he would have kissed you right then. 

Usually kisses between actors were saved for only when they were filming, but he had been lost in that scene, lost in you. Your eyes, teary and pained and so big, were so authentic that it had been easy to fall into his role, the saviour, the anchor. And as you guys had stepped closer and closer, and his senses were bombarded so much, he had lost himself more and more. Your perfume from earlier had worn off, but your skin smelt so good, like cocoa butter body wash. 

From his line of sight, he could see a sliver of your neck where your hair had fallen behind your shoulder. In the moment a sudden, impulsive thought had flashed in his mind, the intense need to lean down and press his mouth to your neck, to kiss it and let his tongue just poke out and drag over the skin. He could even see it now as he sat and waited for you to return, the place where your neck joined your head and the skin went up to behind your ear. He closed his eyes and let himself linger there. 

Then the scene moved on and so did the little movie in his mind. Your hand in his, so soft and gentle as it settled against his chest. Then his hand in yours, your fingertips slightly sweaty and shaking. For a moment he had considered letting his hand stay limp, wanting to see how you would manage to drag the weight of his arm, but that was another intrusive thought that had to be pushed away. 

The skin on your chest was firm but with how firmly you held his hand against it he could feel the slight give of your flesh. His finger had just barely stroked your collarbone as his hand had rested there and he had wanted to move his hand so much more, to so many other places. Up to your neck to feel the soft skin there, to see if he could make you do that full-body shiver again. Down to your breasts, to the delicate skin stretched over them and then to cup them, to feel the weight of them in his hands. 

Cillian opened his eyes and took your water bottle in his hands, opening it and drinking from it as you came back into the room. You looked directly at him and he smiled at the wide-eyed, almost scandalised, look you gave him. He brought the bottle down and screwed the cap back on, putting it right-way up on the block for you to clearly see. He could see a little flush in your cheeks, and watched you rub the tips of your ears with a mischievous smile. 

Poncho and Cardigan Lady didn’t even notice that you returned without a water bottle. 

The intimacy coordinators only made you rehearse the scene two more times before letting you go. They said you both seemed comfortable enough, that you understood what the other person was and wasn’t comfortable with and you were left to your own devices. You left without a glance back and told an assistant you would be heading back to your trailer. She nodded, telling you that someone would come get you for touch ups on your makeup in an hour, and then you walked the entire way back to the makeshift trailer park. 

You only got about fifteen minutes on your own before someone was knocking on the door. You had washed all the makeup off, reasoning that you could simply head back early on your own and give them the time to do it all over again. As you walked, you tied your hair up in a ponytail, awkwardly opening the door with one hand. Cillian smiled politely up at you, arms crossed over his chest and you simply stared at him with wide eyes, blinking stupidly. 

“Hi,” his smile was jovial and infectious, but the one you offered in return felt forced. You felt so awkward around him now, as if you had violated some trust by being so caught up in the moment. “I thought we could walk around a little bit, get to know each other. I think it helps a little bit when filming roles like these.” You paused, fidgeting with the door handle. 

You had really wanted to take a nap, to reset yourself before filming the scene all over again. But this was such an enticing invitation. And maybe it would help you push past all this awkwardness. Maybe getting to know the other actor was better than not knowing. Maybe feeling connected worked better because you had more to think about, more defence in the moment. 

You nodded, holding up your finger for him to wait a moment so you could put your sneakers on and deposit your slippers in your tote bag. He waited patiently, leaning against the outside of the trailer while thumbing through the script. You hopped down the steps and waited for him to take the first stride before following alongside him, taking a winding path back up to the studios. 

“What do you keep in this all-important tote bag?” He asked, eyes squinting in the sun as he teasingly tugged on one of the straps. 

“Oh, heh, just little on-set essentials. Phone, headphones, little snack,” you paused, “my water bottle,” you added quietly, pursing your lips as you watched his smile widen. 

“That’s quite a nice idea, I should think about getting my own,” he nodded as he spoke, and you just smiled. Both of you walked for a little bit without saying anything, and just as the urge to open your mouth and spew out whatever comment happened to be on the tip of your tongue became almost unbearable, Cillian spoke again. “Have you filmed scenes like this before?” He asked, and you knew there were other questions behind it, insinuations. You felt embarrassed all over again, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking straight ahead to the path you were walking. 

“Um, once. And it wasn’t even this intense. I was working on this show, a supporting role with a romantic storyline. I was working with Tom Glynn-Carney?” He let out a little ‘ah’ nodding his head in recognition, muttering a ‘good lad’. “Yeah, it was really small, like a chaste ‘this guy has been my boyfriend for the past two years and I’m just leaving for work’ kind of kiss.” He laughed at that, genuine and melodic, as he looked at the floor and shook his head before looking up to the sky like he was exasperated with your silliness. “And Tom’s really sweet so it went really well, but this has a lot more expectation on it. It feels like going from the kids' pool to the deep end.” You chose to leave out the fact that his very good looks and insane acting abilities made it that much more difficult. 

Both of you paused for a moment, turning to each other in the late afternoon light. He stared at you and you wrapped your arms around yourself again, suddenly feeling like you were exposed to the elements. Slowly, he reached up and pressed the tip of his index finger to your cheek just under your eye. You stared at him, at his lips as he breathed in, and the moment was so slow, so natural, that for a moment you considered stepping forward and kissing him. But someone hit fast-forward again and he pulled back, holding up his finger to you. 

“I’m sorry, you had an eyelash,” he explained. “Make a wish,” he whispered, holding it close to your lips and you waited a beat, looking into his eyes as you leaned closer and blew the little eyelash away. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You turned and began walking quickly, a rain of dread suddenly drizzling onto your shoulders. Maybe it was a premonition, maybe it was delusion, but something told you that all these moments were leading to something and you wouldn’t necessarily come out of it for the better. 

You pressed his hand to your chest, breathing in slowly and looking into his eyes as if everything you’ve ever wanted was held there. His fingers flexed, just slightly, and you began to move it down, dipping it under the edge of the pyjama shirt. 

“Feel my breast,” you whispered, guiding his hand into your shirt until you could feel it searing the flesh of your breast. He was breathing heavily now, chest shaking as he pressed even closer to you, moving his head so his nose lightly brushed your nose. You tilted your head up further so your lips were aligned and only a little move was necessary to connect them. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, thoughts racing, trying to decipher what the other person was thinking but also knowing exactly the thoughts that rain through their head, peaking themselves out into their eyes. And then he was kissing you, mouth slightly open, pressing your bottom lip between his. You moved the hand on his chest up to cup the side of your neck, steadying yourself as he gripped onto your chest and devoured your mouth. And his tongue was in your mouth, delving in and pressing to yours, and you couldn’t breathe but you didn’t want to either and his thumb was pressing against your nipple and your entire body was tingling and- 

“Cut! That was perfect, guys!” 

You pulled away slowly, so so slowly. Your lips still stuck to his a little as you moved away. His hand was almost lethargic in its pace to snake out of your shirt, and you moved your own down from his neck to his chest before bringing it back down to your side. You were both breathing heavily, glancing away from each other then back, away then back before you finally turned away and walked off the set toward the chairs and cameras. You licked your lips as you walked, trying to savour the taste of him. 

The director let you all go for the evening, telling you he’d see you all bright and early on the other side of the studio lot for the ‘second meeting’ scene. You hauled your tote bag over your shoulder and practically ran to the golf cart. You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. 

You didn’t bother eating dinner, just did your night routine and lay down on the bed. There was a little window in the bed area covered with blinds that had been left unfolded. Yellow light from somewhere on the lot was shining in through the cracks but you couldn’t be bothered to move them. You lay in a state between sleep and wakefulness until midnight. Your brain was buzzing with too many thoughts but you were too tired to think through them. 

Five minutes past one, and there was a knock at your trailer door, three soft thuds. You shifted on the bed, lifting your head up slightly to listen for another one. It came, the person was trying to be quiet, and you slowly slid out of bed. You tiptoed to the door and only opened it an inch. Cillian stood directly in front of the trailer, so close to the door that if you opened it wider he would basically be inside. He was wearing a plain white round-neck shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, his hands shoved into the pockets. His hair was still relatively neat, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed yet, and you suddenly felt self-conscious, patting down the back of your head as you blinked up at him. He smiled, a small thing that didn’t reach his eyes, and you opened the door a little wider, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down so they wrapped over your fingertips. 

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly, low and serious. You nodded, moving back and letting him close the door behind himself.

You both stood in the little space between the kitchenette and the door. You felt fully awake now, but everything in the world was still. There was pin-drop silence and you two simply looked at each other. Then he was moving forward, slowly, one step at a time, until he was standing as close to you as he was when you were both filming earlier, maybe even closer. 

Every breath you took made your chest brush his. You could feel your nipples tightening and pushing against your hoodie. He brought both of his hands up to cup your head on either side, then leaned down and kissed you firmly. It was slow, a little pull back and then he was pushing in, kissing you again. Everything inside you was slowly heating up, like a saucepan set on a low fire. Your limbs were filling up with it, there was a lump at the back of your throat, and your core was slowly tightening into itself. Your hands shook and you lifted them to press into his sides, clenching your hands into the soft material of his t-shirt. He kissed you again and again until you were heaving your breaths in and leaning your upper body onto his. 

Cillian pulled away and looked at you, a pause as if waiting or asking, and you simply pointed behind you at the little hallway that led to the bedroom. He nodded, just one little movement of his head tipping down, then he pulled away, grasping your hand in his and walking you both to the little bed area. 

The blinds were still spilling orangey-yellow light into the room, and he simply sat you on the bed before turning around to adjust them so they were closed a little tighter but still let small slits of light into the room. Then he got on his knees right in front of you, pushing himself forward so he was between your legs and your knees pressed into his ribs. You were taking deep breaths in, staring at him with parted lips as he brushed your hair away from your face and kissed you once. 

Everything felt so… small. The room was only the space you two inhabited, your breaths were his breaths, your eyes only looking into his eyes, your lips only existing to kiss his. His fingers gently burrowed under the fabric of your hoodie and began lifting it up. He waited for you to raise your arms then slowly removed each of your sleeves, dropping it into a heap next to himself. You were only wearing a bra underneath it, and he lightly caressed your stomach, watching you shudder out breaths at the sensation. He reached up with his other hand and slid one of the bra straps down your shoulder, touching the little mark it had left behind before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to it. Then the other strap was shifted down, another kiss on your shoulder. Your mouth was dry, your hands shaking. You wanted him to consume you. 

You reached out and lightly tugged on the collar of his shirt. He instantly leaned back and took it off, exposing pale skin and softly defined muscles. Each ridge was gentle, like the artist had painstakingly smudged out any harsh lines. You wanted to feel his body pressing down on top of you. 

He gently tugged your shorts down your legs, waiting patiently for you to lean back and lift your hips up so he could get them off. His right hand moved to splay over your stomach, gently pressing until you were laying flat on your back while his left hand lifted your legs to rest over his shoulders. He slowly pulled you forward until the small of your back was curved to the edge of the bed and all the weight of your lower body was on his shoulders. He looked up at you once, bright blue eyes so shiny in the dim light that you wanted to stop and take a picture. But you only breathed out a little shuddering moan as he pressed his lips against your pussy, poking his tongue out and gently licking between the folds. You clenched your eyes shut, one arm thrown carelessly above your head as you bit down on your other hand. 

It was warm and wet and hot. The room felt humid and your skin burned. His lips were so soft, his tongue skillful, and your hips rolled with every movement, warm tendrils of pleasure moving in waves through your body. He licked until your thighs were messy and you could feel his cheeks stick to the insides. He pressed the tip of his tongue inside you until the pressure at your entrance was making you convulse and the sounds leaving your lips were a little too loud for your own liking. You bit so hard into your hand that you were sure your teeth marks would be there the following morning and let your body quiver on the bed as he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You could see his chest heaving up and down and you pushed up to lean on your elbows, watching him push the sweatpants off his hips before draping himself over you. You closed your eyes and fell back onto the bed, letting him spread your legs and drape them over his hips. When he pushed into you, you curled around him. Your legs tightened around his waist, your arms wrapped around his torso and you pressed your face into his shoulder, muffled sounds spilling from your lips and into his skin. You could hear him panting directly by your ear, feel the wet breaths against the shell of your ear as he turned his head to nip at it. He began moving, backwards and forwards, pull and push, drag and rub. You pushed your hips up against him, a little ‘unh’ sound pushing from your chest when the little space below his belly button pressed perfectly against your clit. 

You lost yourself in the pleasure. Time didn’t exist in that space, only the feeling of your insides climbing up, reaching for something that would make stars burst behind your eyes. It was the feeling of the bed sheets rubbing against your skin, the clasp of your bra pressing into your back. It was his skin sticking to yours, your hands digging into his back, his lips on your cheek, behind your ear. It was the sounds of your hips meeting, soft consistent thumps that slowly began to increase in speed. 

And then you were there. The moment where everything was just right. When the weight of him inside you and the press against your clit lined up perfectly. When his lips were pressed against your cheek and somewhere a star aligned in the universe. It was like warm flowers blooming inside your stomach, so brightly it was almost painful. You clenched around him, pressed your knees to his ribs as tight as they would go. You clenched your teeth tightly together but pressed your mouth to his shoulder so all the sounds came out muffled and weird, high pitched from the back of your throat or deep from the pit of your stomach. 

He groaned when he finished, hands gripping your hips so tightly you felt them even after he let go. His eyes were scrunched shut and when his hips convulsed a few times he almost hissed at the sensation. He quickly pulled out, falling down right beside you. Neither of you moved for a long while. 

When your joints finally felt like they would no longer fall apart if you moved, you slowly turned to lay on your side. He was already looking at you, eyes soft and tracing over every feature of your face. He reached out, blunt fingertips gently brushing hair off of your forehead and cheeks. He stroked one with his thumb, then moved forward to press the gentlest, most loving kiss against your lips. You kept your eyes closed even when he pulled away. 

He was gone when you woke up in the morning. You thought you dreamed it for a moment, the most vivid dream you had ever had in your life. But you were naked under the blanket, and you never remembered pulling it up from the edge of the bed so someone had tucked you in. Your hoodie and shorts were folded and placed on the tiny nightstand beside the bed, and your blinds were fully closed. When you shifted to get out of bed, you could still feel the way fingertips had pressed into your thighs and a soft soreness throbbing between your legs. Not a dream. 

But then everything felt weird when you left the trailer. You didn’t see Cillian until you were on set for filming and he was busy with the director until ‘action!’ was called. You followed him after ‘cut!’ but he only sat and watched the scene over or read from his script. He smiled politely at you, gave you a wave when he caught you looking, but made no special effort to come over to you. 

You felt off-kilter the entire day, like a joke was being pulled on you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. But then, as you curled up in your bed after sunset, watching the sky darken through the window, he knocked on your door again. And you let him in, let him kiss you and take you to bed. And in the dead of night he wrapped you up in the bed sheets, whispering little jokes, telling stories, watching you like you were precious. And then the cycle started all over again the next day. 

You reasoned with yourself. You guys were still at work, you needed to be professional on set, and it seemed to explain everything away. He snuck into your bed at night, wrapped his arms around you and kissed you, coaxed you into sleep eventually, but never in the daylight. Not even a touch other than the ones on camera. 

You couldn’t feel yourself getting attached, couldn’t see yourself manoeuvring your life around him until you knew you would beg for him to just take your hand in the daytime once, let you call him your man. You came when he called, followed where he went. You didn’t realise until you were devoted, didn’t realise until the willow had bent to the wind.

Taglist: @4ria790

[arachine]

my eyes r rolling omffff waht is wrong w u and how r u so talented! it’s not fair 🙏 but anyway i can’t stop thinking about more stepbro!neteyam and how you’re going through heat and he helps you out

claiming 🫘 if it’s not taken 😁

— sinful desires !

+ pairings :: step!bro neteyam x female na’vi!reader 

+ genre :: mature

+ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language)

+ content warnings :: characters aged up (20), dark content, pseudo-cest, reader gets her heat, corruption, dacryphilia, vaginal sex, f/m ejaculation...not proofread

+ note :: hi nonnie bb! wrote this as a thirst…went a little overboard hehe :3 + not my usual format ;( bc i wrote this before going to the dining hall LOL! but yeah, this is just smth light before i get started on my actual WIPS.

“c’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he thumbs your cheek, tilting his head with an avian flutter of his lashes. neteyam could be so…generous. always too eager to help—too eager to make everybody’s problems, his problems.

right now he had you splayed out in a clearing, one hand holding his weighty cock, and the other holding the back of your thigh. you’ve been in this position for a while, all heavy breaths and squirms, physically (and mentally) fighting the urge to relinquish your body to him—to let him you.

you always pictured your first heat going a lot smoother than this. that when the time came, you’d be prepared and mated—but you were neither. so, one could only imagine the moral dilemma that arises when you’re forced to choose between two (very bad) options: 1) doing nothing and ultimately succumbing to the pain, and 2) fucking the only guy who conveniently happened to be within proximity.

the latter was obviously, not something you would’ve chosen for yourself—but the pain was excruciating—debilitating, and your current location wasn’t giving you much room for choice.

“look, you can stay here and suffer, bound to the forest soil, or you can let me help you,” the boy slides the weeping tip of his cock over your exposed folds, “which one sounds better? wallowing in pain or big brother helping you, hm?”

the tail of his query is accompanied with a prod to your hole, and you whimper in response, arching up to grasp at his chest. neteyam finds amusement in this, chuckles under his breath and gets real low on top of you.

“c’mon, baby, say it. tell me with your words. not gonna make you do something you don’t want to do,” and with that he’s lifting your chin up, using the pad of his loitering thumb to swipe away crystalline droplets.

you nod your head slowly. first once, then twice, lifting your hips up to meet him halfway. he takes your silent acquiescence as an invitation to glide into you. and, fuck, it’s so easy…fits right in like a glove. overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

you’re trouble, he thinks. because he knows that after he fucks you, gives you what you want—he’ll only want more. and that hunger will only grow, it’ll fester and fester, until the only way he can get off is with you. and that couldn’t happen, no—because this was only supposed to be a one time thing.

what would the people think of their future olo’eyktan messing around with his little sister? surely, they’d denounce his claim and deem him unfit to lead, right? and what would your parents think? they’d probably disown the both of you, or worse, disown you. and that’s the last thing he wants—to ruin you.

which is why this has to be the first time and the last time.

“‘teyam make me feel good please!” you clasp your hands behind his neck, forcing him to lay atop of you, “wan’ it to stop hurting…please, just…help me.”

there’s a flicker in your eyes when you say it, and he likes it. makes his spine tingle and his pupils dilate. because he wants to hear you do it again.

“you want me to make you feel good, huh?” a slow, drawn out thrust, “want big brother to make it feel better here?” he unsheathes himself from your gummy cunt and taps the top of your mound with the weight of his length.

“mhm, need you now, ‘teyam. please, hurry!” of all the years he’s known you, he’s never known you to be a beggar. the sheer desperation in your voice alone was enough to make him forgo all of his disciplines.

without pause, he guides his mushroomy head back to your leaking hole, and pushes himself all the way in until the fat of his balls is plush against your ass.

its’s so swift, the way he completely takes charge, like he’s done this before—like he’s been inside of you. your body was foreign to him, a stranger, and yet, it wasn’t. and he convinces himself as much because of the way you’re responding to him.

you are putty under his touch, and every moan, grab, clutch, and clench only confirms this.

faster, deeper—harder, you preen. and he obeys. does it when you command it, and doesn’t ease up. it’s almost unreal, the way the two of you are moving in perfect synchrony. like you’re liquified metal, melding together to form one.

“shit, feel you clenching. are you close, baby?” he syncopates each word with a harsh thrust, letting his weight distribute to one arm as he encases the side of your head. you nod eagerly, mumbling a string of expletives, followed after a series of strangled cries.

“f-feel it coming, don’t stop.” you’re so close, so, so, so close to that sweet release that you’ve been chasing after since it happened, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it.

unconsciously, you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, and pull him down by the neck until his face is mere centimeters away from yours. you’re close—too close. so close that if he were to dip his head down just slightly, he’d kiss you.

your eyes flit to his lips, to his eyes, and then back to his lips. calling. beckoning. pleading.

kiss me, is what he thinks they’re saying. but he’s scared it’s too…intimate. a kiss would solidify things—feelings—and he didn’t have the mental fortitude to come to terms with that just yet.

this was supposed to be something he did to help you, he reminds himself. he was just doing you a favor, because that’s what brothers did, right? just a favor. nothing more, nothing less.

but eyes stare back into eyes, and breaths intertwine with breaths, and shit, he’s a weak man. this was another deadly combination that could only be blamed by the forced proximity. damn this.

he presses his lips to your own, harsh and heavy, leaving no room for anything. no room for hesitation—air—not even for protest. and when you kiss him back with just as much want, just as much need? he’s melting into your touch, ramming into you with such unbridled velocity, that you don’t even register the accidental love bite you gave his lip.

he works through it though, licks the blood up and continues his assault on your cunt. lays thrust after thrust until your body falls lax in his hold and your thighs clench shut around him.

“that’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, “go ahead, give it all to me.” with the encouragement of his sweet words, you come undone all over his cock, with his own release not too far behind.

“fuckfuckfuck, where you want it?” he grunts out through broken moans.

“inside, do it inside!” you sob, grabbing for his neck once more, pulling him down to your chest. you help to draw his release out by moving your hips in unison with his, holding yourself up on your forearms as he sheathes himself in and out of you at a dizzying pace.

with a final piston, he finishes inside of you. the two of you stall in the air briefly before he gently lowers you down onto your back, him following soon after to lay on your breasts.

when his breaths even, and the bioluminescent plants begin to glow, he unsheathes himself from inside you and sits back on his knees. you look so pretty, he thinks. with his spent seeping from your hole, and your skin all slick with sweat.

“this can never…” you breathe, chest still heaving and breaths ragged, “never, ever happen again.”

a beat. he doesn’t answer. and you repeat yourself, only this time, with more power behind your tone.

“hey, this can never happen again. got it?”

he can only manage to give you a nod, but he doesn’t give you his word.

because this? this wouldn’t be the last time. he was going to be selfish, and if that meant ruining you for anyone else in the clan—if that meant keeping you from finding a potential mate, he’d just have to ruin you.

© arachine 2023

[nivisdreaming]

What if eddie tied reader in rope and stuff then shut the door while watching tv, reader starts to feel overwheled but when they use their safeword eddie doesnt hear it until reader yells it

ok so!! i’m gonna take this n run with it a little because i couldnt decide what type of overwhelm to do, but brat tamer!eddie who is also soft my beloved!!! he’s a bit harsher of a dom than my last dom!eddie fic, but still just as soft afterwards <333

Summary: Fed up with your bratty attitude, Eddie decides to be extra mean with his punishment and leave you alone while a vibrator overstimulates you. When it gets to be too much, you attempt to call a safeword, only to discover he can’t hear you from where he’s stationed outside the room. It’s only after you use the last of your strength he rushes into the room, comforting you and nursing you back to that fuzzy safety of his presence.

WC: ~2k (oops i went overboard again)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, safeword use, mildly unsafe BDSM practices (don’t leave someone tied without supervision or communication!!), overstimulation, brat taming, adult toys, bondage, collaring mentioned, fem!reader, dom!eddie, sub!reader, aftercare, praise, implied syncope/pre-syncope

You knew you were in for it the second Eddie opened the toy drawer. You had been running your mouth all day, talking back to Eddie whenever given the chance, and decided to start teasing him with pictures of his favorite lingerie while he was at band practice. The second he was home, you were hauled over his shoulder and carried to the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed and turned to rustle through the drawer.

“Strip. Nothing but your collar, or you’ll make this worse for yourself,” he barks out. The drawer slams shut and he heads for the door, shutting and locking it for the time being. When he turns around to face you, still scrambling the get the last of your clothing off, you can see what he’s selected. In one hand, he holds a wand vibrator, one of your most powerful toys with 10 different speed selections and a long plug in cord to prevent battery death. In the other, he holds a pair of your favorite fuzzy handcuffs, and a long section of bright red rope.

A shudder runs down your spine as you peel your panties off, leaving you bare under his gaze. You can see the wicked glint in his eyes, his ever-presenting smirk unfading as he speaks, “On your back, wrists together in front of you.” You move to lie on the bed, watching his movements to plug in the toy but leave it off, then coming to kneel beside you. He snaps the handcuffs to your wrists, checking the tightness before ripping your thighs apart to expose your cunt to him. “Based on the way your dripping onto the sheets already, I don’t need to worry about prepping you for this punishment. Just in case, what’s your safeword baby?” His eyes are the softest you had seen them all day, and it manages to conjure small butterflies in your stomach. He always looks so lovesick for you in these gentle little movements of reprieve.

“Yellow to slow, red to stop completely, sir,” you reply, finding your voice to already have that sickly sweet and timid tone to it. So much for the misbehaving and bratty attitude.

He gives a nod and releases your legs. You hold them open for him, curious of what is going to occur next, when he huffs and stands up from the bed. “One more thing, I think this is missing just one more thing.” He returns to the toy drawer and searches for a moment, pulling out a matching red silk scarf and returning to your side. “You won’t need to see for this. Want you focused in on feeling every single of your punishment, no need to overwhelm that pretty head of yours with anything other than pleasure.” He secures the scarf around your eyes, blocking out your sight to anything other than the fabric.

There’s a pause where all you can hear is the shuffling of his footsteps, and then a buzzing noise fills the room. You can feel the cool head of the wand pressed against your inner thigh as Eddie slowly makes his way up your body, until he’s got it pressed directly against your clit, making you squirm and try to pull away from the sudden intensity of stimulation. He chuckles lowly, “Oh honey, if you think this is bad, you are in for a hell of a night,” he ticks the setting up higher on the toy, making you cry out. His knees come to rest of either side of you, pushing your thighs together until he’s got the toy trapped between your legs and pushed right up against your core. He snickers as he bends to reach the ropes, quick to tie simple bands around the meat of your legs, even as you writhe and whine under him.

He secures the last knot and gives a light tap to your cheek to capture your attention. “There, now you can’t get away from it. Be a good girl and take everything you are given.” You whimper but mutter out an agreement in between your breathless cries. “You’re always such a vocal little thing. I’m going to go enjoy my night and probably smoke a bit, try not to wake the neighborhood with your crying and maybe I’ll let you have my cock later, ‘kay sweet-cheeks?” Satisfied with your nod, he exits the room, slotting the bedroom door shut behind him in hopes of sealing some of your noise inside. You two had begun to receive a few noise complaints, specifically about the longer sessions that tended to drag on late into the night, and Eddie planned to drag this one out as long as possible. As much as he hated being so horny from all the teasing and not being able to fuck you already, he knew it would feel so much better if you could take you while you were already so dumb-fucked and overstimulated. That, and he hoped you would be too busy babbling about how sensitive you were to continue your bratting. He sat on the couch with a sigh, turning on a horror flick he had already seen a thousand times and attempting to get comfortable for the everlasting evening he was in for.

Meanwhile, you felt your first orgasm start to rip through your body, triggering your back to arch up and a strangled moan to pull from your throat. You tried to keep it quiet and listen to Eddie’s orders, but it was really difficult with the incessant vibrating against you. There just never was a moment of break, your core kept clenching down and your hips bucked, unsure whether to chase the pleasure or run away, not that you could actually do either. Your whole body shook as you came for the second time, the overstimulation to your clit sending waves of slick gushing out of you and beginning to puddle underneath you. You heaved, whole body feeling like it was burning from the spasms, pain melding with pleasure and creating a bitter-sweet loop of never ending orgasms being clawed from you with a vengeance.

You began to lose count around number 7, brain too fuzzed out and overloaded to organize clear thoughts anymore. You found your voice too hoarse to make much noise anymore, reduced to soft whimpers and pants for air as you fought to keep your lungs full. Your tongue lulled out, mouth dry from the constant gasping. The soreness in your core was unbelievable, like fireworks stabbing you from the inside, burning hot and white and blinding, punching you in the gut repeatedly like someone was knocking the wind out of you.

It was delicious, truly, the endorphins running through you, the powerless submission being left here made you feel. Or it would be, could you just get enough air in to appreciate it. Every shot of electricity up your spine forced everything out of your lungs, a horrific forced hyperventilation that was starting to darken up the corners of your vision, the red of the fabric being transformed to a creeping black that pulsated and grew with the pounding of your heart.

Lightheadness, a little floaty and dizzy feeling, you were used to these happening during a session. But this, this felt different. A terrifying sense of impending doom accompanied them, leaving your sweaty body to feel as if your blood was suddenly ice cold. Broken, breathless, and quickly running out of energy, you tried to weakly call out to Eddie, “I-… r-red, ssir..”

You could hear no shift in what was going on behind the closed door. The movie was loud, at it’s most vicious moments, and with the muffling of the walls and the buzzing there was no way for him to hear you like this.

A sob clutched at your throat, further forcing the oxygen from you as you felt the tension increase in your stomach again. It burned so bad now, you couldn’t tell the pounding of your head from the pounding of your clit, and your limbs felt too heavy to squirm around anymore, despite the convulsions still wracking your body. The powerful toy had you right on the edge again, and the threat of coming another time was enough to punch a scream of your safeword from your chest just as there was a loud shriek from Eddie’s movie.

Eddie was off the couch and flying to the bedroom in a flash, throwing the door open and scanning over you in a guttural panic. Just the sound of you screaming out for him at felt like a stab the chest, and the sight of you twisted the knife deeper in his heart. He yanked the plug from the wall, killing the vibrations while he ripped the blindfold from your eyes. Both hands came up to cradle your head as he tried to get your blown out pupils to focus on him, though it appeared you stared right through him.

“I’m here baby, I’m right here, can you hear me? I need you to focus on my voice honey,” he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, “Fuck, you’re breathing really fast baby, you need to slow down or you’re gonna knock yourself out. Try breathe with me, best you can. Deep breath in, 1…2…3…4. Deep breath out, 1…2…3…4, just like that hun, you’re doing so well, such a good girl.” A small whine left you at his words, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sign that you were coming back to him.

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay, I’ve gotcha now baby, let’s get these off you so I can clean you up and get you properly snuggled with me.” He removes your cuffs and undoes the rope bindings, allowing all your shaky limbs to flop freely. He gathers you up in his arms and presses a water bottle to your lips, urging you to drink half. He then moves you to lay on the couch while quickly changes the sheets to clean ones, before taking you back to bed. He wraps one arm over your shoulder to hold you close while the other runs a damp cloth over your thighs and tummy, cleaning off the sweat and slick until he’s satisfied. When he’s finally finished, he pulls you all the way onto his chest and wraps a blanket around the both of you. He presses a sweet kiss to you forehead before leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“My sweet girl, you did so well for me tonight. I’m so sorry for leaving you like that baby, I never meant to be away for that long, got distracted daydreaming about you and forgot I had my pretty girl all to myself already. Not gonna leave like that again, okay? Never again. Staying right here, holding you close forever and ever. Keep you warm and soft and bundled up, just a baby should be.” He squeezes you a bit tighter. “I love my perfect baby so much, you know that? Love you with all of me. I’ll keep you safe, you know that right? I’m going to keep you so safe. No one can hurt you, because you’re mine. My baby.” He leaves kisses all over your head and face, coaxing a small giggle from you as you peel your tired eyes open long enough to place a kiss on his lips.

“Love you too, my teddy bear.” Your eyes fall back shut, and your asleep in seconds, both you and Eddie pressed chest to chest, clinging to each other all night.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Tease

Park Seonghwa x fem reader

a/n: yikes i went overboard- this was originally supposed to be a small drabble but the hwa brain rot is so real. i saw this photo and I STARTED THINKIN THOUGHTS I HAD TO GET THEM OUT-

You decided to tease your boyfriend, but you soon find out that what goes around always comes back around.

✫彡wordcount: 2.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot, fluff sprinkles

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

soft dom+teasing seonghwa, established relationship, implications of nudes, use of sex toys, edging/orgasm control, cunnilingus, begging(lots tbh), praise, dacryphilia, unprotected penetration(wrap it up yall), lots of pet names, hair pulling, light name calling, profanity, scratching, one(1) chomp, big dick hwa, belly bulge, cream pie, and forehead touches(obv) and i think that's it ... i told you i went overboard ..damn this is wild 😭

SMUT UNDER THE CUT MDNI

"You wanted my attention all day, Sweetie. Why are you crying now? You've got what you wanted..." Seonghwa looks down at you with his eyes glazed over in lust, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning down to where you sit on the floor in front of the couch. Your legs spread, face warm and wet with tears, cute pantie set pushed to the side to give him a good view of your wet hole clenching the toy. "You've got all my attention, sweet girl."

"Please-"

"Nuh-uh." He cuts you off, cupping your face with a soft smile that hardly matches his next words, "you take it. This is what you get." You adjust yourself on the floor to sit on your knees, and he watches you with a hint of amusement.

You brace yourself on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his sweats. "Please, Mars... Touch me. God- please give me more. I need to cum. I'm s- I'm sorry!" You sob, leaning your head onto his lap. You feel his hand gently pat down your undoubtedly messy hair, then you hear him chuckle.

"You're always sorry until I let you cum, huh?"

"No, I'm really sor-"

"Teasing little slut," he groans, tenderly tugging your hair by the roots to pull your head up. You've left a stain of tears just above his knee. "Tell me," he begins, "do you think I enjoyed a hard on during practice? You think I got to cum after you teased me with those pictures?"

"No," you admit, tears slowing. He notices, and reaches to his phone, abruptly turning the device from six to twelve. They return full force, your legs clench themselves together and you cling onto Seonghwa for dear life as moans rip through you. "I'm sorry, Hwa! Please, please, it's too much," you croak out.

"Too much?" He coos with a smirk. "I thought you wanted to cum, Princess?" Your eyes widen at the implication of his words, and he only smiles back down at you. "Get back down there and maybe I'll let you."

You all but fall back into the shag rug of your apartment, hiccuping as your tears free fall. "Please, I'mma be good, Baby. I promise, I pinky swear, with a fucking cherry on top!" You almost forget to spread you legs, when his foot knocks down one of you knees and reminds you. You expose yourself to him as you revel in the feeling of the intense vibrations inside you.

It's never enough to make you cum, though. And Seonghwa knows that. That's why he's looking down with a smirk.

"Can't see you, Sweetie." His voice alone makes you cry out in a moan, writhing as you try to get any friction on your clit with the lace panties you used to tease him. "Take them off." Your tears blur your vision as you blink open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as you hook your fingers under the fabric. You follow his instruction, pulling them down as quickly as you can and leaving them discarded to an unknown corner of the room.

"There's my good girl," he all but moans as he slinks to the floor in front of you. "Where've you been all day, Angel? I've been stuck-" he runs his hand over your calve, making you twitch- he laughs heartily. "I've been stuck with an attention whore all day."

Unbeknownst to you, his smirk only grows as he comes closer and sees the fat tears that still run down the sides of your face. "I'm so-" you cry out as his hands find purchase on your hips, holding them in place. "I'm so sorry, Hwa! I'll never tease you again, I swear! I'm gonna be good! I'm your good girl, I promise!"

He hums, pushing you back so he can lay flat on his tummy. "I know you are, I know. We all have our days. Isn't that right, Princess? You were just extra needy today, huh?" His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit, and you begin mumbling incoherent pleas and apologies: gripping onto the carpet like it owes you money.

"Isn't that right?" he asks again, reaching one of his hands up to grip your hand and ground you.

"Yes," you moan, "just need you so bad."

"You've got me," he attaches his lips to your core with no warning, and both of your hands wrap up in his blond locks.

"God, fuck!" His tongue assaults your begging cunt, swiping up and down and side to side and messaging you in tight circles. "Oh my God, my God, Mars Baby, so good! You're so good! Please, don't stop," you begin to hyperventilate, and it doesn't slip his attention as he hears it in your tight voice.

He moves one of his hands away from its death grip on your hip and trails it to rest softly between your ribs, tracing the same patterns he makes with his tongue with his index finger. Similar to him, one of your hands lets up on the clutch you have on his head and traps his wrist in it, feeling the small flexes as he traces on your body.

When he begins backing his head away as you start to reach your peak, you try fruitlessly to push him back. The vibration increases ten fold. He put it all the way to twenty. Your hips buck in his hold, head thrown to the side and back arched off the floor.

"Angel, hey..." he speaks gently, leaning over you and smiling as he wipes your hot face. "You ready to cum for me?"

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, kissing his wrist before he pulls it away and wraps both his hands around your thighs. He watches as you wait patiently for a moment, bracing yourself for his tongue. "Hwa?" You prop yourself up after a long moment. "Baby, please?"

He hums, looking up as if he's deep in thought. "I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Fuck!" You pound your hands on the floor, surely pissing off the downstairs neighbor (who is the extremely unfortunate Choi San).

He laughs, thumbs digging into your hips as he gives you a kitten lick that makes tremors rack your body. "You sure?"

"Yes! Yes, please! I want to fucking cum for you, Mars! I want to fucking cum, please help me, I need it so badly," you can barely keep eye contact with him as he rolls his tongue out. "Please, stop teasing me," you whisper though your sobs, giving him your best pleading eyes.

"How can I resist that?"

He sucks roughly on your weeping cunt, rolling his tongue over your nerves as he does so. You come undone in no time at all, so wound up from his teasing that the pleasure spills over inside you and you're seeing stars in your vision. You freeze up as you're dunked into an overwhelming climax. He doesn't let up until you seem to come back into your own body, slumping to the floor and searching him out with a wandering hand.

He sits up quickly and pulls you up into his lap even quicker, wrapping his arms around you tightly- somehow finding time to turn the vibrator off in between. You lean into his warmth, moaning into his shoulder, "fuck." You're so out of it that you don't notice you're sitting over his hard cock. "Fucking love you."

"I love you," he places a chaste kiss to your temple. "My precious Angel. You did so well." His gentle fingers find your overworked cunt, and you jump at the feeling. He holds back a chuckle at the moan you let out when he finally takes the toy out with a lewd pop. He tosses it half harzardly near the wet spot left on the carpet by the mixture of his saliva and your wetness- making a mental note to break out the carpet cleaner.

"Sweet Angel," he rasps as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on your sweaty neck. "Love of my life." He tugs you away from your near-sleep with a deep kiss to your lips. It's wakes you up, his tongue quickly finding its place in your mouth. You wrap yours up in it, entangling you together as he pumps his cock in the small gap between the two of you.

"You need more time, Princess?" You shake your head, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you take him in the other.

He can barely hold himself back as he hears you begging so quietly, he nearly misses it. "Want you to fill me up."

"Fuck," he groans, "keep talking like and I'll loose my mind." He holds back a moan with his finger between his teeth as you sink down on him. You settle ontop of him, flattening your chest against his and resting your forehead against his. "Want you to fuck me full, Mars." You say proudly, "want you to cum inside me. Want it so bad."

"Too good to me, Sweetie." He rests his arms over your shoulders and glances down to where you're connected.

"Can I move now?" You ask with a quick smile and a kiss to the side of his lips. He nods, pushing his head impossibly closer to yours as his eyes screw up in pleasure.

"God," he gasps, savoring the way your walls slowly envelop him. His throat bobs as you kiss behind his ear, holding himself back to let you have your little moment of dominance. "My good girl, my Angel. Take me so good." His words appeal to the sub he knows you are, your hips stuttering.

The slapping of your skin together echoes in the room, fueling both of your insatiable hunger for one another. "So big," you whine as you work your hips. You finally lean away from him to get better leverage, rolling your hips. "Gah-" You moan as he presses on of his hands to your back, the other just above your cunt. "No, I can't take it! Don't fucking do it, Hwa."

He swipes his tongue over his top lip, looking up at you with a shockingly wholesome smile. "Don't you wanna feel me, Princess? I wanna feel..." You can't deny the way it drives you crazy when he presses down on the outline of his cock inside you. Your just afraid you might loose your mind after how he made you cum earlier. "You think you can handle it?" His hand leaves the imprint and wonders to you breast, pinching your nipple and making your hips halt as you lean into his touch. "Ah~" he moans, "my Love is so sensitive."

He takes back the dominance in a second flat (as if he ever let it slip away). He wraps his arms around your waist and begins pounding into you, relishing in the way he can see his cocks outline just above your pussy before it's hidden by your belly fat. "That's it, Sweetheart. Just like that..." Your walls flutter around him, earning a low moan.

Wordlessly, you remove one of your hands form their tight grasp on the straps of his tank top and toward your stomach.

"Can you take that? You sure, Precious?"

"Yeah," you brokenly whimper that you, "wanna feel it. Wanna feel you." You both whine as you put pressure down, and his hips falter ever so slightly. Tears are building up in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, and he leans off the back of the couch to kiss your cheeks as they fall, treasuring the saltiness.

You let your legs fall from the upright position, and he wraps them around him, pulling you all the closer as he fucks into you, and you feel it even more as he keeps a hand on your lower stomach. "Mars-"

"Hold it." He knows by now that you're about to cum, and he's still technically punishing you. "Don't cum yet, don't do it."

You prop your head over his shoulder, wrapping your hands up in the back of his hair. The harder it gets, the harder you clench, and it only builds you up faster. "Baby, please..." You cry, tugging his hair.

"Hold it, Sweetie. You can do it. If you cum, I'm not letting you catch your breath."

"Feels too good!" Your hands rake down his back, leaving angry red lines in your wake. "I can't-"

"You can," he hisses as you mark up his back, "you can take it, Princess. My Princess can take it. I know you can."

His words give you the will to hold back the pleasure, biting gently into his shoulder to hold back your loud noises. "Good girl. You're there, right? I know you wanna cum so bad, huh?"

"Please, can I?" You sniffle, pushing back off his shoulders to face him, brain foggy and excited at the words that leave his lips. You trail your arms down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "God," you start moving your hips with his the moment you see him. His own tears are welling up, face flushed, lips swollen from physically biting back his moans. "My pretty boy, you-Fuck!" He slams up into you, moaning openly as you praise him. "Mars Baby, you fuck me so good! Take such good care of me," you cradle his hot face in your shaking hands, struggling to hold your orgasm back and still function.

"I'm going to fucking fill you up, Angel." He's already more than halfway to that promise, watching as you stare down at him, keeping your hands on his face so lovingly as he pounds you mercilessly. "Want you to cum with me. Want you to cream on my cock."

You nod, managing to hold back most of your yells as he ups the force: holding you from bouncing with one hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. "Please, Hwa... fuck me full. Wanna be full of you."

His hand slips down from your hip and to your abused clit, and you can't hold back as you cum- forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him as they threaten to roll back. He pulls your head to his and moans loudly into your lips, continuing to thrust as his warm seed fills you up.

He pulls back as darkness starts to cloud your vision, sweet praises followed by the shallow, heavy breaths of the both of you. You shiver in his hold, tears soaking the fabric of the couch that you now have your face smushed against.

"God," he whines, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. "My little fucking tease."

[icycoldninja]

Hiii!! I really like your writing and I always look forward to your posts!!!! ∩^ω^∩

Picture this, DMC boys with an s/o who knits/crochet 🧶 The reader is very nifty with yarn and makes the boys gifts.

Dante seems like he can rock some knit gloves as he’s fighting demons. He has a little collection from experience of his gloves ruined after his missions.

Vergil seems he uses little bookmarks his partner makes, or a blanket while reading.

Nero is a little harder, tbh I see him swinging around a crochet axe or sword laying around. That or a scarf, idk 🤷‍♀️

V is the hardest I can think of, but I think a sweater/cardigan would suit him. Buddy looks cold 24/7 and he’ll be swaddled with shadow and griffon made a lil sweater during the winter months.

I can just picture the guys having to deal with a bunch of yarn n tools around their shared place w their partner. Ever since I’ve started knitting, yarn has become my whole personality 👵

Aww thank you. Sorry I've been so inactive lately, and for the fact that I had to close requests, but I hope you enjoy all the same! Knitting sounds fun tbh, glad u enjoy it

Sparda boys + V x Knitter!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Constantly makes fun of you and calls you a grandma--in a fond way.

-He does indeed have a collection of knit gloves that you made him, and that fall apart after one mission because of all the roughhousing he does.

-He also has a collection of knit socks, mostly used as backups for when you put all his other sweaty socks into the wash.

-Once sat on one of your knitting needles and got PTSD that he will carry until the end of time.

-Cannot open your closet without worrying about the 800 rolls of yarn that will inevitably fall out onto him, so he bought a giant set of drawers for you to store them in.

-When winter rolls around, you guys will be very warm in your knit sweaters.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil loves to sit around and read. He loves it even more when there's a nice blanket to snuggle up in.

-He has ordered you to knit him 5 of these comfy blankets so he has extras in case something *cough* Dante *cough* happens to the other ones.

-You joke that he's finally acting his age, doing old man things. He replies, saying you're prematurely aging into a granny. Any minute now, you'll need dentures. It's all in good fun, nothing personal.

-He likes your crocheted bookmarks because not only do they remind him of you, they are also very beautiful.

-He carries a whole bunch of them with him for no explainable reason.

-Once got his foot tangled in all your yarn and nearly tripped. To this day, he silently thanks his lucky stars that no one saw him.

□ Nero □

-Nero never thought much about knitting and what things one can knit until you gave him a very warm scarf.

-Now he refuses to go anywhere without that scarf--it's basically a safety blanket to him.

-He saw you trying to crochet weapons and figured he'd try them out. Even though he probably wouldn't be able to kill a demon with them, they're still fun to have around.

-When Dante and Vergil come over, they end up throwing these crocheted weapons at each other during their inevitable arguments, so Nero suggested hiding some in strategic locations throughout your house.

-He has you knit sweaters when the weather gets colder, but you went overboard, so now there's a huge trunk of sweaters and blankets in your closet.

-He takes you to the craft store every weekend to pick out new supplies.

● V ●

-V is a frail little thing who should be clothed in the finest raiment.

-So, you made him a sweater. However, you sorely miscalculated how large the sweater would have to be, and now it looks like he's wearing a dress.

-Not like he cares; this means there's room for his familiars (or you) to snuggle up in.

-Shadow loves to pull on loose threads and play with your yarn rolls. Oftentimes, this results in a huge mess.

-V would love it if you could knit him shirts or socks to go with the sweater. He loves being all cozy and warm.

-Crocheting some toys for Griffon and Shadow wouldn't be a bad idea either--maybe this will save your precious yarn rolls from being unraveled.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ our name ] n. hischier

day six of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : dad!Nico Hischier x mom!reader

summary : Nico and (Y/N) celebrate their first Christmas with their daughter

warning(s) : mentions of pregnancy but besides that ... extremely fluffy & very short

author’s note : girl dad!nico has a very special place in my heart and i realized that i haven't written anyone having a baby so ... here we go

༺═──────────────═༻

A year ago, they didn’t even know they were going to even have a baby. They found out about their daughter about three weeks after they celebrated Christmas in Switzerland with Nico's family.

She was six weeks along when they went to the doctor to confirm that she was pregnant. Now they're celebrating their first Christmas together as a family in Newark after welcoming Elena into their lives in early September.

Elena won't remember this Christmas, but they will. (Y/N) and Nico went a little overboard with shopping for their daughter even though she's only three months old. They know that their friends bought a couple of things for her as well so Elena is getting spoiled.

As soon as their daughter is awake and calmed down after waking up and screaming, (Y/N) and Nico go into the living room. A sleepy Elena is in her mother's arms.

"Lena, look," (Y/N) gasps as she gets down on her knees next to the lit up Christmas tree with presents on the ground beneath it. "Santa came."

She sits her daughter up on her lap and smiles.

They go through the motions of helping Elena open her presents and acting surprised at what is wrapped up in the wrapping paper. She finds it entertaining and they take turns holding her and helping her.

(Y/N) is taking a picture of Nico as he helps Elena open one of the boxes. Inside is mini Devils gear that she didn’t know about. She lowers the phone and watches as Nico pulls out all the gear.

“I got you your own jersey,” Nico says to his daughter. “It might be a little big on you at first but you’ll grow into it. The onesie is absolutely going to be worn at some point in the next week, maybe underneath the jersey. That is all up to your mom.”

When Nico pulls out the red jersey, she sees the little ‘C’ on the chest. ‘Daddy’ is in place of Hischier on the back above the big 13. She tears up at the thought of Elena wearing the jersey to one of Nico’s game. Probably the first game she goes to.

Elena reaches out and grasps the jersey. She smiles and looks up at her dad. (Y/N) makes sure to get a picture of this moment even though she is looking through tears.

“I didn’t know you were getting that,” (Y/N) says from her spot on the couch. Nico looks up at her while Elena holds the jersey in her hands.

“I wouldn’t have gotten it if I knew it was going to make you cry,” Nico comments as the tears slip down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry.”

She wipes away the tears and smiles. “Happy tears,” she assures him. “Just thinking about the first time she’s going to wear it and I can’t wait. I get to hold her at the glass while you warm up on the ice and I can just imagine you skating up to her and saying hi through the glass. It got to me a little much for me.”

Nico smiles and gets off the ground. A happy Elena plays with one of the new toys she got while Nico sits next to his wife. “I can’t wait for that day,” he tells her. “I’ve been waiting for that day and I thought Elena should rep some Devils gear for her first game. It would make me so happy to see the two of you wearing my number, and you wearing our name.”

(Y/N) is pretty sure she has never been more in love with Nico Hischier than she is in this moment. She married him and had a baby with him, but the little jersey he got for their daughter to wear to her first hockey game has got her falling in love with him all over again.

“I was just going to get her a Hischier jersey,” she admits. “The ‘daddy’ on the back is amazing. Everyone is going to know that her daddy is the captain of the best team in the league and one of the best players in the NHL.”

A little smile forms on Nico’s lips and she mirrors it, just without the dimple. “Gotta make sure everyone knows how cool her dad is,” he teases. She laughs and Nico cups her jaw. “One of these days we’re going to make the playoffs again and you’ll get one of those cool jackets that the wives and girlfriends get.”

“Maybe I’ll get a jersey that says ‘wifey’ on it until then,” she replies. “How would you feel about that?”

“We might have to buy another ‘daddy’ jersey if that happens.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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[seungxstar]

! // ➶┊Christmas Cake

bebe!bada x bebe!fem reader

a/n : 🦢 anon I love you for this idea, this isn't a headcanon and it's shorter LOL

(if you see this feel free to send me asks and give me opinions!!)

How I think your girlfriend Bada would be making a cake for the girls to celebrate Christmas. (I love this sm I might make a full fic out of this instead of just a drabble)

Christmas was rolling around, bada wanted to bake a cake as a surprise for the girls, but you don't really get the said surprise since you're living with her and is basically there for the making of it.

But, that also meant that you could see her make the cake in real time, which on it's own, is already quite the gift, since the both of you have been busy with SWF2 and the tour.

You've seen your girlfriend cook a couple of times, but every time she ties her dyed hair into a messy bun, you simply can't help but admire her.

From the first day you met her when you stepped into her dance class till now, the admiration and heart fluttery feeling never expired. In fact, when the two of you finally got together, you actually think the said feelings only got stronger.

"Love?" Bada chuckled, looking up from the recipe book. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You quickly shook your head and stared down at the table, flustered.

"Do you want to make it with me?"

You shot your head up and instantly nodded.

When you walked into the kitchen, she puts you in between her and the kitchen counter.

"You're so cute." She beamed, ruffling your hair. "But let's get the cake done before I get too distracted, yeah?"

You didn't know that something as simple as making a cake with Bada made you feel things you didn't know you could feel.

The way Bada had her hand on your waist while opening the lower cupboard so the edges of it wouldn't hit you when she was opening it,

to the way Bada smiled and she took a picture of you when you were trying the frosting and got a little on the side of your lips, saying "We'll look back at it at some point..." Before changing that picture as her wallpaper.

Everything simply felt right.

Even while you two were enjoying the Christmas celebration with the rest of the girls, Bada never failed to make your heart flutter.

When Bada left her seat to go get plates for the cake, she gave you a light peck on your forehead which had you in nothing but a flustered mess.

"Aww, Unnie is shy! Look at her!" Lusher giggled before taking a picture of the sight.

"That's the power of Bada Lee... One peck and unnie's in shambles." Tatter said, turning to Lusher.

You could hear bada's laughter from the kitchen as she walked back with the plates.

"Merry Christmas, Love."

"Merry Christmas, Bada."

I think I went overboard but oh well. Merry Christmas.

[saladmix]

@shyalia sent me another amazing piece and I had to share it. Look at the lad! The attention to detail is so sweet, and 2012 Leo looks so good look at this turtle, suddenly realizing he's got to guide four versions of him and his brothers that got to live a normal life and therefore have no ninja training through a whole dang apocalypse. She captured everything SO perfectly, I love it!

This is a scene from Chapter Four of The Day the World Broke, and you can check out an excerpt below the cut!

“My room, welcome,” Mikey jumped in, and then he jumped up, giving a classic butler bow and spreading his arm wide to gesture to the glory that was their simple but definitely awesome room. “Pleasure to host you. If I knew you were coming I would have straightened up.” 

He wouldn’t have. But it was a nice thing to say, right?

“You live in a house?” Leonardo asked, and for the first time he seemed to look around a little more closely. Mikey saw his eyes linger on their photo board, which was mostly Mikey’s because their dad had gotten him a polaroid camera for his birthday last year and he definitely went a little overboard with it. But it was so cool, you know, and the retro vibes were awesome. He liked having actual photos that lived somewhere other than his phone because one time he’d lost his phone and all his photos and had to listen to what was basically an hour-long lecture from Donnie about proper cloud storage. 

“Where else would we live?” Donnie asked, sounding dismissive. Mikey didn’t take offense, sometimes Donnie just sounded that way, especially when he was overwhelmed. Did Leonardo know that? He definitely had his own Donnie by the sounds of it. How similar were they? Did he have a Mikey? Did he want to meet himself?

What was he saying, of course he did. 

“We live underground but I suppose…there’s a first for everything,” Leonardo said, and Mikey watched him take a few steps forward to take a closer look at the pictures. He saw him linger over one he’d taken of Raph and their dad at the dinner table. Nothing special, it had been Mikey’s candid phase where he was trying to capture the essence of life but Raph messed it up and looked at him mid-noodle slurp. 

“Underground? Like a cave?” Mikey asked. He didn’t know anyone who lived underground, aside from the wild fancy rich people houses he sometimes saw on HGTV. Man, he bet those guys were sitting pretty now, in their underground furnished bunkers with backup generators and an indoor vegetable farm. They didn’t have to worry about anything. Oh, to be a billionaire with a crazy house. 

Leonardo stepped back from the photo wall and tilted his head, a half-yes. “Sewers, technically.” 

Oh no. That was the exact opposite of a billionaire bunker. The sewers? Mikey was about to ask some extremely important follow-ups but Leo cut him off. 

“You live in the sewers?” Leo asked, voice still high and stringy. He let out a strangled sounding whine and Mikey saw his fingers grip harder around his head. “Oh my god why?”

Can you just ask people why they live in the sewers? You probably can’t just ask people why they live in the sewers. Technically Mikey didn’t know the answer to that question but it felt like a real Mean Girls moment. Oh my god, Leo, you can’t just ask people why they live in the sewers. He almost said it, but the joke fell flat on his tongue, like the weight of the situation burdened his humor too much. 

Read more here! Pay attention to the tags and warnings!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50818507/chapters/128379037

[wolfpackss]

Hi, if you can, please write something about Seth Clearwater imprinting with a very playful girl who loves to tease him and make him shy and nervous like lifting his shirt or kissing his cheeks, or else a scenario where they go to a school dance together and he declares his old crush on her. Feel free to change the things you want, thank you so much❤️

I love love love Seth! I had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you so so so much for requesting something. I’m new at this and English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. As you can see I went a little overboard with this one haha! Hope you enjoy!

“Are you serious? You wanna take me to the dance?” Seth could feel his cheeks warm up and he began stuttering a little. “I mean, if you want to. If you don’t that’s okay, it’s just I mean” Seth rambled on and it made you giggle a little. The last dance of the year, your last year. Your last chance to tell him how you feel. “I mean it’s the last dance and I’d like to spend it with my best friend” Seth blushes as he finishes his sentence. You slightly wince at the last two words but manage to smile. “Last dance, Seth. You and me” you share a smile.

You and Seth have a little complicated relationship. You are playful, sarcastic and very spontaneous while he’s very shy, quiet and soft. He’s always nervous about everything, even if it’s just talking to you. You are just friends but that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for the boy. The feelings started very early on in your friendship. You saw him evolve from a boy into a man.

Little did you know he’s feeling the exact same thing. He’s always so shy but knew you were right for him the moment he saw you and it all became clear the older you became. You are no longer the little girl he fell in love with, you are the woman he loves. And he plans to do that for the rest of his life, starting with the night of the dance. The perfect setting.

Three weeks later you’re waiting in the living room of your home with your parents who are beaming at you. “You look so beautiful sweetheart!” Your father holds up his phone to take picture number 300. You roll your eyes at their enthousiasme. “He’s here!” Your mother rushes to the front door to let Seth in. He walks in and you let out a small gasp as you see him. He’s wearing a black tux with a white undershirt and black bow tie. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small box in the other. He hands your mother the flowers, giving her a small kiss on the cheeks and shakes your fathers hand.

“You look absolutely stunning” he leans down to kiss your cheek and you beam up at him. “I know right, I’m wearing a dress. I mean, that’s something” you joke and he smiles back. You look at the box in his hands and he opens it. A gorgeous corsage is laying there, matching the color of your dress. “How did you -“ you abruptly look at your mom who looks away sheepishly. You and Seth grin at each other.

The entire evening is full of laughter and jokes. You tease Seth throughout the evening and he just blushes or looks away smiling. When the dj announces the last dance of the evening, Seth takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. “No stepping on my feet, Clearwater!” You laugh at him as he puts both his hands on your hips. He softly squeezes them as he laughs with you. “Just dance, beautiful. And listen to the lyrics while your at it” he whispers in your ear.

The song More than friends by Meghan Trainor and Jason Mraz comes on and when I listen to the lyrics I softly laugh. “You trying to tell me something or?” You try to joke but you fail miserably when he looks at you with a small smile. Your heart starts beating rapidly against your chest and you can feel your hands become sweaty.

“Yeah I am, beautiful. I have this stupid crush on you that turned into so much more. This is my last chance to tell you how I feel and I though maybe this would be the right moment. I love you, I think I always have. I don’t want to be your best friend, I want to be more. I want be the one you think about when you wake up and when you go to sleep. I want to be the guy that you point at and say “that’s my man” when you’re with your friends. But i get it if you don’t want that or if you don’t see me like that, I mean” you cut of his rambling and push your lips to his.

“I’m yours Seth, always have been” he smiles and kisses you again.

Last dance, last chance. And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[ask-zacharies-snackarie]

BODYSUIT bodysuit BODYSUIT

I finally got around to it. I said I was gonna do it and now I am. Under the read more.

First four pictures are the old suit, last three are of the new one.

The bodysuit used to be fucking BAD. In the desire to find lightweight fabric that wouldn't overheat me, I went and got this fabric that was.. just the worst. It was too thin, not very stretchy, and it RAN.

Any raw edges exposed to a force stronger than a gentle tug would separate and become unrepairable. Imagine your costume fucking separating at the seams cause something pulled on it a little.

I got most of the way before I said "this sucks ass, I'm restarting." So I went to Joanne's and dropped another 70 dollars on this wonderful modal knit thats discontinued as fuck. It's thick and doesn't show sweat until it's reaching clinical levels due to the modal fabric on one side and the spandex on the other! It absorbs it and disperses it so it doesn't show on the outside.

I definitely did get hot in that costume, but way less than I expected. Honestly I got cold more often than not @_@

N e way it's just a bodysuit pattern I modified to add the split in the middle. It clasps at the bottom and I think I went overboard with the snaps cause for some reason I was convinced they would pop so easily. They didn't lmao.

The gloves on this costume are part of the sleeves, so I can't free my hands lest I want to take off the whole suit.

The buttons are 3d modelled by me, printed, sanded, and painted by hand because I was pissed that no one sold buttons that looked right and I refused to compromise 💪💪

Evidently as you can tell, the ruffles are also sewn into the collar and actually did not give me any issue with the stretch when putting on the suit!

[girlbloggersfolly]

DELTA DAWN - part 2// Bee in your bonnet

Pairing: camp counselour!joel miller x camp lifeguard!afab!reader

Rating: E!!!!! 18+ MDNI

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: (1979 summer camp AU) Things go south one morning after a particularly catty argument between Joel and our lifeguard in Joel's boat shed/self proclaimed 'man cave'. - Pictures in the moodboard are simply to get the imagination racing and for me to spill my pinterest all over your screens, the reader is at no point described!

Chapter warnings: age gap (20 + 49), enemies to loves - i mean it, mean!joel, lowkey mean!reader but we love them both, slight vouyerism, cigarette smoking, talk of pornographic magazines, complicated relationship (billy and reader dw), oral (fem receiving), semi-public sex (door open but thats it, degrading, pet names (kiddo, sweetie, doll - the good stuff ykyk), fingering idk, slow burn, fem!masturbation dirty talk, no descriptors of reader except she has hair and is a similar height to joel cause im tired of the lack of tall girl representation in fics, sorry... if that ruins it for you just imagine i never said that), NO USE OF Y/N.

a/n: eekkkk ok you can probably tell from his horrific piece of writing that ive never done proper smut and i went a little overboard but i'm sure you'll like it anyway. i've probably got one or two more parts of their story left in me, depending on how happy i want the ending to be. Id love to get requests if anyone has any bright ideas! I love the 3 people who are reading this, it really makes me blush and you don't even know it.... also lmk if you want to be on the taglist for any future writings xxxx

-----

You were up in the chair early. Waking especially to sit and watch as the sun rose higher over the lake and above the pines, hoping to get there before Joel, just so you had time to ground yourself. You toyed with the cigarette between your fingers, a habit of yours that had really been getting you through the last agonising couple of days of avoiding Joel Miller, but there was no putting it off this morning. 

Kayaking. Something you’d never really specialised in and were not convinced you'd know how to deal with if things were to go south.However, as always, you kept your doubts to yourself. Joel was taking the kids today, he was good with them and obviously knew what he was doing on the water. You hoped that meant no accidents.

“No smoking in the chair, cupcake.” Here we go again.

“Good morning to you too, cupcake.” You rolled your eyes, not bothering to turn around to see the one thing on your frazzled mind, not bothering to put out the cigarette either, 

“Kids’ll be here soon, Lou’s bringin’em” He said coldly in reply, standing beside your chair, his face level with your hips as he looked out to the water.

 Even being raised above him like this you still felt vulnerable, what was it about him? He turned to look up at you with his big arms crossed against his torso, “so, be a doll and put that thing out f’me will’ya?” The chair rocked slightly as he patted it, condescending as ever. 

You rolled your eyes yet again and dropped the cigarette down beside his feet, raising your eyebrows. It was bratty and yeah probably a little crueller than required, but it felt damn good. “Happy?” you were pushing it, really pushing it, you could see it in Joel's hard expression. his impressive profile was only defined by the hot mid-morning sun as he glared up at you through narrowed eyes. He put on his ray-bans and turned away. =

The kids hung onto every word he said as he stood in front of you explaining to them how to kayak, in a way they never did with Billy or Abel, or even Sharon. You tried to listen, tried to look out at the lake, tried to do something that wasn't blatantly staring at his tight ass, the muscles in his back under his t-shirt. It was torture, adjusting in your chair, shifting around like a bitch in heat. 

“Eyes on the water, lifeguard,” He taunted you from the deck, you’d really needed to remember your sunglasses next time. 

If you thought the other day was bad, this was worse, sitting there melting into your lifeguard chair watching Joel being the hottest man alive and not caring how it might make you feel. The kids were playing capture the flag in the woods by the light of the setting sun, giving you a minute to cool off against a tree, the cigarettes lighting themselves at this point. 

Your skin was lit up by the orange light that dotted through the trees as it sunk below the horizon. It was the first moment of mercy you’d gotten from this god-awful day of Joel Miller and his stupid tanned skin, the little sweat droplets on the back of his neck, his salt and pepper scruff, the thought of how it would feel against your inner-

“Found you,” You smelt Billy before you saw him, his freckled arms embracing you from behind, knocking you out of your dreamy state. 

“You know this thing? It's called a shower, real cool I hear?” You chuckled, trying to laugh a little to disguise it as a joke, the last thing it was.

“Haha, very funny,” Billy smirked, planting wet kisses across your neck from behind, the moustache he’d been trying to grow tickling your jaw. 

“Quit it,” You raised your hands, your shoulders tensing like an alarmed cat as he grinds messily against you, “There's kids around you little shit.”

Billy murmured a chuckle against your skin, his tongue tracing against it, a sensation that had the hairs on your arms standing up. “I’ll make it quick,” Now there was something you could count on. 

“I said quit,” you turned abruptly to look at him, brushing yourself off, realising the harsh tone of voice you’d used. He looked pained, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting around your face quizzically. 

“You know what,” Billy folded his arms, looking you up and down bitterly, “Im tired of you being a fuckin’ prude the whole time,” His voice was raised, whiny, trying to sound like his father. 

You scoffed, putting your head in your hands and shaking your head in disbelief, this kid was insane. “Its not my duty to fuck you whenever you so wish, christ, you really are an entitled son of a gun,” 

Billy stamped out his cigarette onto the ground, “Nasty bitch,” he shook his head, spitting on the floor, charming. “Don’t know why I even bother.” He marched off, back to his cabin probably, off to write another song about how much he hates women you’d have the pleasure of hearing at his next gig.

The day was dragging, it seemed unceasing, like this spiralling, horny, angry mess that was your body. The forest was quiet again without Billy’s cursing, often you’d hear a distant shout from a kid who’d been caught or a group of them running around, but it was hard to differentiate from a bird call, or the wind in the trees.

“Trouble in paradise.” Great. 

“Look, I am not in the mood, so be a sweetie and kindly fuck the fuck off.” 

That earnt an impressed chuckle from behind you, another pair of broad shoulders leaning beside you on the tree. “S’ my darn woods, ‘do whatever the hell i like, thank you missy,”

“Joel I'm serious, whatever witty little jabs you're cooking up, save them for another day,” You looked to him, it was hard to look away whenever you did. 

“Wasn’t,” He shrugged, there was that gruff, southern nonchalance yet again, christ how it got to you, the complete opposite of Billy’s incessant bitching. You almost wished he cared enough to go off on you the way Billy tried to. 

“Well…” you paused, eyes darting over his face, the strong profile, low set brows, those pouty lips you’d gotten pretty damn used to this week. “Dont,” you concluded.

“You really do have a bee in your bonnet don't you, kiddo,” there it was, just as you’d predicted, calm and collected and making you want to blow his brains out.

You shrugged. “Its Billy,” You shook your head, well that was only one of the bees in your very buzzy bonnet, Joels fucking face was the other. “You heard?” 

He nodded, “I heard enough,” you both stood in the ambience of the evening, kids whooping, birds sounding from the trees. “Billy’s a dick you know that, ‘don’t know a single fucker from here to Timbuktu that dont know that,”  

You couldn't help but chuckle, relaxing further against the tree, your shoulders untensing for the first time in weeks, forgetting who the enemy was. “You know fuckers in Timbuktu?” 

“I bet I do,” he nodded, crossing his arms against his broad chest, the camp staff t-shirt barely accommodating his largeness. 

Joel sighed, looking over at you, “got one of them cancer sticks you're always suckin’ on?” you had a whole pack of them in your back pocket. 

He thanked you and lit one with the janky lighter you'd stolen from Abel, smoke muddying your view of him. There was a lull. “I don't know why you lead that bastard on,” he said through the smoke. 

“Im hardly leading him on,” You scoffed, lighting a cigarette for yourself. “He was the one who wanted to keep this to strictly fuck-buddies,” Lucky for you, imagine being Billies girlfriend, jeepers.

“Sounds like you can’t even do that?” he smirked, and there he was again. 

“You know, as I find myself repeating these days, s’really none of your business,” you laughed, turning to him, sighing through the familiar heat in your abdomen, the butterflies that felt more like horse flies in your stomach back and buzzing harder than ever. 

“You're makin’ it my business, havin’ your lover's spat in my earshot.” he retaliated calmly.

you opened your mouth to bite back with something that attempted to match his condescension, but that was an impossible task. “You know what,” you settled on, again grasping for something to finish that sentence. “Fuck,” again you were gotten the better of.

“I’m stuck with him for the next three weeks, so, gotta keep sweet for that long I guess, maybe put out a couple times.” 

He nodded, stamping out his cigarette next to billies, “S’a damn shame,” The eye contact felt like glass in your eyes, felt a big hand twisting your throat till it turned blue, it was those eyes of his in that permanent, laboured squint which you assumed came with age, they killed you. A damn shame. The words played on repeat like a song on Sharon's broken radio, the static soiling his voice in your mind. A damn shame. He was right, it was a damn shame. 

“Would you make sure to deal with those kayaks tomorrow morning’, lifeguard? Just gotta pile em’ up in the shed,” He said over his shoulder as he turned to saunter away. 

Before you could get your bearings, you were alone again, admittedly less grateful for it too. 

Morning, kayaks, shed. Sounded like a relatively agreeable task that wasn't asking too much right? Wrong. You were lucky your body had gotten into the rhythm of waking up at sunrise cause this was a goliath task. Hauling 15 kayaks from one side of the lake to the other wasn't something you’d factored into your morning of rest and relaxation. You’d planned to take a secret dip, maybe grab a coffee, take a shower if you had time. But no, you were out sweating under the morning sun, huffing like a workhorse.

When the last kayak was hauled into the dirty little shed you reclined on the desk, all dusty and grotty but it didn’t even matter. Heck, you weren't even perturbed by the smug house spider that was perched close to your palm, not even giving a second thought to the porn magazine discarded beside your head. All you could think about was how this wasn't what you’d bargained for when you agreed to go on this little jaunt up to the northwest, oh yeah, and how much you hated Joel Miller. 

After a couple of minutes of huffing and puffing, grumbling to yourself about how you were meant to be in LA by now, living a rich and famous life as some kind of starlet, a model, an actress maybe. The shed was a mess, every surface littered with junk. There was fishing equipment, books, more beer cans than you could count, the whole thing screamed Joel. 

Soon, without even meaning to, your nimble fingers were straightening objects, tossing the cans into the bin, dusting, flicking through boxes, you even took the spider outside. 

“Hey,” You heard a jumpy voice from behind you, clearly receiving the same fright you’d got from the sound of his voice. “What are you-” It was Joel, an accusatory expression all over his knitted brow. He saw the small desk bin behind your back, the cans in it, he saw the neat shelves and dusted desk with all his papers stacked orderly. 

“Hey hey hey, I have a system..” Joel bolted over to where you stood, snatching the bin out of your hands, his knuckles grazing yours, you were in deep if such a small gesture made your heart drop so far down. “There's a system,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair and leaning back on his uncluttered desk, looking… pained, addled by the whole thing. 

You scoffed, enjoying seeing Joel off guard, it was always you getting snuck up on, getting caught in a vulnerable situation. “Is the system complete chaos, cause wow Joel, im impressed,” you put your hands on your hips, your little red shorts riding dangerously high. 

“No one asked you to go messing in my affairs,” he tutted, rubbing his brow, god he was a drama queen. 

“Your affairs?” you laughed maniacally, “By your affairs do you mean a few dozen beer bottles, some dusty kayaks and your crusty spank bank mag?” 

He scoffed, looking down at the magazine down on the desk. He'd been got, he’d give you that. “Just clear off, don’t need your bitchin,” He turned his back on you, tampering with your neat new order on his desk, “too damn early,”

You were furious, not even a thank you? If not for drastically improving his workspace, at least for stacking the kayaks, a lot of work if you did say so yourself. “Are you kidding,” you whined, walking up to stand behind him, trying to get his attention. 

“I’ve been doing hard fucking labour, sleepy head, what were you doing? Jerking it into a porn mag I'm guessing?” he chuckled at this, turning over his shoulder to look at your exasperated expression. “Hard labour?” he murmured, audibly amused by your claim.

“Oh you poor thing,” he mocked, turning round fully to look at you, “Doll, you ain’t done a day of hard labour in your pretty little life.” He smirked wildly.

“You don’t know a thing about my life Miller,” you said, sounding like some cheesy cowboy movie, his accent rubbing off on her a little. This caused a full belly laugh to erupt from him, it caught you off guard.

“Your life ain't nothin’ but sunshine and rainbows, sugar, maybe a day’a ‘hard labour’ would do you some good.” He chuckled, walking across the room and correcting the ‘mess’ you made of his ‘system’. “Fuck you,” you bellowed, crossing your arms, your eyes wide and full of fury as you watched him in all his casual, condescending glory. 

“You are maybe the most infuriating motherfuck on this damn earth,” you said through your teeth, so mad, so hot, so done with it all. He just chuckled again, raising his eyebrows, you were starting to just want his attention, wanting him to reciprocate your anger, not caring how you got there. 

“And by the way, I don't care how you see it, I've been up all morning slaving away at something I am certainly not paid for and I don't even get a thank you?” You blurted out, the words falling out of you, you convinced yourself you felt sweat actually drip from your chin. 

He turned to you, annoyingly amused, but there was something else, an underlying rage that really disrupted the usual sedate presence he provided. “Thank you?” He smirked, quirking an eyebrow. 

You paused, never had you ever felt so damn angry at a man. “Listen up-” you began with a huff before being interrupted by Joel stalking over to you with a hostile smirk on his face. Towering over you even though you were a similar height, you backed up against his desk very slightly, trying to keep your chin raised cockily. 

“Are you always this fuckin’ cranky?” he shook his head in amused disbelief and let out an exasperated scoff at the stuttering look on your face. 

You could feel your heart beating like that of a hamster, hammering against your chest. He was so close you could smell him, old spice deodorant, campfires, the slightest tang of sweat and lake water, also the musty dust smell of the shack, you thought you might faint like some Victorian chick. 

He was close, too close for comfort, his muscular frame, the threat of a non-sedate Joel wasn't something that settled you. You gazed into those eyes of his, narrow and all-seeing under a thick, heavy brow. “How’re we gonna cheer you up, huh kiddo?” He raised his eyebrows in mock concern, your mouth was left agape, eyes so wide they might pop. Joel was closer now, looking down at her very slightly, his breath fanned over her face. Holy fuck.

“Can’t have you all bitchy after doin’ me one little task, now can we?” He said after a beat, placing his hand on your jaw, wiping away a caked bit of dirt, probably from all that ‘hard labour,’ his big thumb moved from your jaw to swipe across your lips softly, gently feeling the plush, pillowy skin, freshly chapstick-ed from the Carmex in your pocket. “Can we, sugar?” he repeated the rhetorical question down at you. She shook her head lightly, the obedience hitting her like a 10 foot wave. 

“That's better, that's it, that's better,” He said softly, like he was talking to a jumpy animal. “Not so hard being a nice girl is it now? Not so bad?” he cocked his head and raised her brow, she shook her head absentmindedly once more, completely entranced by whatever was happening to her right here against Joel's desk. 

He nodded, his hand darting between your teeth, his other fingers holding your jaw still underneath. The other hand rested precariously on your thigh, leaning closer so you were sat up on the desk, right beside the dirty mag. 

He let his hand trace drowsy circled under the hem of your shorts, his eyes following, “Think you're cute?” he smirked, his eyes told a different story, taunting, stormy. “walkin' round in those little damn shorts, all prissy, like you own the place?” He said darkly, almost to yourself, holding your eyes with his, his thumb swiping between your teeth, pressing the pad against your tongue. “Suck,” You did it straight away, hollowing your cheeks out and letting whatever this was happen.

You convinced yourself it was some kind of gross fever dream, being out in the heat for the last few days had given you hallucinations, but it felt real, the taste was real on your tongue, his taste. you lapped it up like medicine. 

He clenched his jaw and gazed at your lips wrapping around his thick thumb, fuck. His fingers grazed the seam of your bikini bottoms under your shorts, he could already feel how warm you were down there, how much this was getting to you. He held eye contact with you as he pulled your shorts off, motioning for you to lift your ass, you were feeling compliant, a rare feeling. 

Your bikini bottoms followed, leaving you bare on the desk, the lifeguard top riding up your midriff revealing your glistening (very 70s (interpret that however you like)) cunt to the daylight that streamed in through the open door - a risk Joel seemed to be taking, or something he probably hadn't even considered. 

He rolled his neck, his hands on his hips, he seemed to be considering his options, weighing up the consequences. You pushed your knees together, hoping for a little modesty, the answer was no as Joel's big hands reached down and parted your legs once again. 

“Ah, ah, baby,” he smirked wildly, truly a man starved. He reached down and dragged his finger between your folds, holding the wet digit to the light. It was all achingly slow, he sucked his finger clean, his eyes on yours as he tasted you, letting out a gruff, guttural groan. 

“This gonna keep you sweet?” he said with an icy smirk, her skin was like a furnace; a sweaty, wet, flustered, confused puddle on this desk, dripping everywhere. “Keep you outta my way for a couple days maybe, kiddo?” He chuckled, looking at her domineeringly. “How’s that sound?” 

You nodded eagerly, your expression desperate, whiny, you needed this bad. “When you touch yourself, whadd’ya think 'bout?” he taunted, leaning a hand either side of your hips on the desk, “You,” you gave in, it was just too easy when he talked to you like that. 

“Show me,” He smirked, his words almost a growl, you raised your eyebrows. “Your a pretty little idiot aren'cha?” Now he was just being mean. “Touch yourself the way you do when you're in your cabin, up in your bunk, squirmin’ around,” 

It was so easy, to let him order you around, to succumb to it. The heat, all the bantering, it had melted you into putty in his hands, it’d get to anyone. So there you were, on Joel Miller's desk, bare on the bottom half, your hand drawing tight circles around your aching clit. 

“Fuck,” you bit down on your lip, it was all overwhelming, the feeling of an orgasm coiling around your spine, the blistering, green-house-type heat that had you all rosy and sweaty, the fact that Joel was stood right there, crossing his arms, watching you like a hawk. You knew he’d be a voyeur. 

You watched as his wire snapped and he’d had enough of just watching, adjusting the tent in his shorts. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes looking bigger than usual from this angle, wilder almost feral. he pulled at your hips violently, hoisting you around so your back was flat against the desk, your head leant up against the wall so you could watch exactly what he was going to do to you. 

His mouth was hot against you, licking a stripe up your seam. You could’ve sworn you heard him moan at the taste, felt the vibrations against your core. “This cunt is wasted on Keenan,” He chuckled, not even pulling away from you to lay his jab at Billy, he never could resist the chance. 

You moaned loudly, your hair flying into his hair, feeling the chocolatey, salt and pepper ends in your fingers and you pulled hard, close now. “Don’t fucking stop,” you whimpered, grinding your hips against his face, nose deep in your pussy. 

“Fuck, does he kiss it this good, doll?” He murmured, the vibrations of his baritone drawl against your aching clit were enough to make you toss your head back in sheer ecstasy, that coil winding uncomfortably tight, threatening to snap. 

“He doesn't.” you chuckled through moans, Billy had never ever eaten you out, no matter how many killer blowies you’d served to him on a silver platter. This seemed to appal Joel, who only licked deeper, slower against you, it was agonisingly good, toe curling. He scoffed down there, his thick index finger working at your hole now, dipping in easily despite how tight you were.

 “Poor thing, thas’ why you're so wound up,” He mewled from below, his voice patronising, taunting, but it touched you, “haven’t had someone take care of this pretty cunt in too long hmm? shit, I’d be mean too.” He said with a wet smirk, pulling away to slot another finger in, but you wouldn't give. “Won’t be able to take my cock if you can take two fingers down here,” He chuckled, taunting you further.

“Please don't stop Joel,” you squealed, pulling his hair painfully tight between your fingers, his condescending words only making you hotter, you weren’t usually into that, but shit, Joel could be wearing a fucking tutu and you’d be into it, come to think of it… 

He was grinning smugly as he pushed his fingers into you at a gruelling pace, the desk shook underneath you, your head thrown back against the wall. “Billy hasn't done me any damn favours down here, you're tight as a virgin, baby,” you could see the smirk on his stupid face even with your eyes clenched shut. 

Your release hit harder than it ever had before, your leg shook hard, a string of ‘fuck’s and ‘holy shit’s, laced with a fair pinch of ‘Joel’s and ‘baby’s, blurted out of your lips, you felt your abdomen clench and moaned incoherently, but Joel wasn't quitting, still kitten licking at your inflamed core, fingers curling up and into you, finding a new depth with every push. 

“Joel stop, it-its,” you panted, not even recognising your own voice now, your vision blurred. Overstimulated didn't even sum it up, that shit hurt. 

He didn't care, lost in your taste, lost in the feeling of you clenching around his digits. “Cocky little lifeguard, you're the bane of my life, you know that sweetie?” He said against your wetness, not giving a flying fuck how uncomfortable this was getting, knowing soon you’d ride it into another earth-eating orgasm. 

“Really shouldn't be doin’ this with’ya, Can’t be,” He said over your moans as the discomfort bled into insatiable pleasure, the desk hard against your clammy ass, your release leaking down your thigh and pooling below you. “Holy fuck-” you squealed, your hand on his shoulder to stop yourself from collapsing, the other interwined in his thick hair, that must’ve hurt. 

“How old even are you?” he asked with a mischievous chuckle, pulling his face away and slowing his hand movements, no no no no no. Your brain was fuzzy, all you could process was that Joel had stopped and that felt like death. “20,” She said quickly, needing him to continue. He knew what he was doing, taking a moment to process, watching the way you were squirming, so desperate for him yet again. 

“You're too young for me, kiddo,” He said as he dove back into your crotch, a very contradictory statement when reflected against his actions so far this morning, i know. “I am not,” you bit back through a whimper, pouting, your eyes fluttering shut once again.

 “How old’re you anyways,” you panted, your words all broken and high pitched, too fucked-out to feel humiliated. “76?” You chuckled, feeling your second orgasm of the morning chasing after you. 

He bit down ever so slightly on your clit, causing you to wince and buck your hips, it didn't cause any damage or hurt, just hard enough to shut your bratty ass up. “49, missy,” he replied coldly from below you. “Watch it,” 

“You wanna take my 76 year old cock next? think you can take it?” He smirked, pulling away to focus on his hand movements, in and out, hitting that spongy part of you, deeper than you could ever get. You nodded, words almost escaping you for the first time in your smart-ass life. He chuckled deeply at this, a hearty sound you were starting to crave like a meth-head. “She’s a trooper, ain’t she?” He breathed in your ear, planting a small, firm kiss on your neck, his fingers gaining a bruising pace, loud wails escaping your quivering lips.

“Fuck j-joel,” you stammered, your hot breath fanning against his neck, “want, need your cock,” you were getting needy, washed up by the incoming wave of your orgasm, ready to hit just as hard as before, if that was physically possible. “Don't get greedy now,” He smirked down at you, eyes wild. Hot tears were rolling down your cheeks, salty and stinging, your body shaking, giving way to another tortuous release. 

He pulled his hand away and sucked eagerly at his drenched fingers, watching as you came apart on the desk, moaning and whining for him. 

He sat you up, grabbing a coke from his outdoor refrigerator and leaning against it as he opened it, muscles flexing he clicked it open, tossing the bottle opener to the side and handing it to you. You grasped it with clammy palms, your vision slowly coming back, your body still fucked-out and trembling, cock-dumb for a cock you hadn't even had. 

“Welp,” He put his hands on his hips, like some suburban dad done with a barbecue, “that was real nice, weren't it?” He patted you on the shoulder, ignoring the bewildered expression on your face. 

“Duty calls, kids’ll be down here in an hour or so,” he slapped his thighs and raised his eyebrows, it was as if he’d just given you a friendly handshake, not eaten you out and made you cum twice. 

“Aren’t you going to..” you stopped yourself, you’d been awaiting the next round, (even if you weren't sure you could take another round) the one he’d talked about with that same smug look on his face as he finger-fucked you. 

He grinned down at her, ruffling your hair, “another time hey kiddo?” he said kindly, but it was perhaps the furthest thing from kind you’d ever seen. You glared up at him in disbelief, mouth agape, cheeks rosy, skin glassy from tears of pleasure, you didn't even know that was a thing. He patted you on the shoulder, smiling earnestly, that glint of mischief turned to one of absolute cruelty in his eyes. 

“Atta’ girl.” 

And he was gone. Joel was out the door as quickly as he’d entered, leaving you panting, bottomless and flushed and sweaty, your shorts half way across the room, the coke bottle dampening your fingers.

 He’d really done a number on you, gotten you all needy and riled up, then done something to you that no one had ever bothered with. Then he’d just left, like it wasn't the best you’d ever felt, like you hadn't been imagining how many babies you were going to give him, what colour flowers’d be in your bouquet at the wedding.

 It was embarrassing; being humiliated yet a-fucking-gain by a man well over twice your age, legs trembling on the soaked desk, the model on the front of his porno magazine beside you grinning up at you smugly, fucking bitch.