#and then you raked your gloves hands
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
cosima-nova · 11 months ago
Text
Dear actors in show/movies/ASMR vids:
When portraying a medical person, once you put on the gloves, please. PLEASE.
Do not then touch your hair, face, anything not already prepped for whatever medical something you are about to do.
Please and thank you.
Love, a medical provider who loves your work but for real needs you to stop it.
2 notes · View notes
dmitriene · 3 months ago
Text
continuation to this small work, cw: two freaks in love.
könig finds out you're kind of shy, a meek, pretty thing, sure, you send him such a revealing, unabashed polaroid pictures, but now, with him appearing out of nowhere at your door, giant and rugged, your fingers fiddle nervously at your own clothes, tugging down and trembling at your sides, wide eyes looking at the letter he holds in his gloved hand, from colonel, to you, name written by the way you already memorized, making you understand that it's really him.
the man you sent your nudes to, who would've know that he'd get so obsessed to try and find you like possessed dog, but you welcome him nonetheless, shuffling aside to let him in, bend his head down with a curl to his back so he would get past the doorway to your living room, dirty boots leaving a crumbs of dirt, his gear coated in things you don't want to know about, but his bright, unmovingly focused eyes look at you with a crinkle of delight, pupils could've dilate by now.
sure, könig is a little bit sad you didn't welcome him naked, or undressing at the very first sight of him, but he can work from what he got, from your shy touches when he wraps a hand around yours, for a handshake, that's it, but his by now ungloved, sandpapered fingers rub and circle around your wrist, curious, almost shuddering at the feel of your much smoother, gentle skin against his, and just this is enough to turn him on, cock swelling hard in his cargos.
he wonders if you'll let him bend you over the couch and eat your pussy from the back, or just stretch your pretty hole around his swollen cock, but you ask him questions, how he found you, why, does he wants something to eat, but könig already plans a small wedding for you two so he could make you his forever, an adorable housewife that will take care of her hard working husband with sending him pictures of her holes he could pump full after coming home.
könig tells you everything, how much times you made him cum, that he fantasized about you in any possible situation and position, dreamed of entering his quarters, and instead of a empty, boring room see you curled at his bed, his thumb tracing along your knee all the while he babbles your ears off with all disgusting, horny talks, but it's amuses you, to the point your thighs start to clench together, pressing harsh, as you lean in, watching his eyes nearly eclipse from the very little contact.
you put the letter he brought aside on the table, instead, asking your questions, and then answering his, which only contain of awkward, boyish laugh and stuttering words of if he looks the way you imagined, and könig is, a little bit awkward, in the same time cocky enough to touch you, nearly groping, looking enchanted on the outline of your breasts from beneath your sleeping shirt, before rubbing an sweaty hand against the back of his hooded head, such a silly man.
nearly jumps out of his pants when you offer him to take a bath at your place, voice mellowy and inviting, and könig trots behind you with a wagging tail when you lead the way, filling the bath full of warm water and couple drops of shower gel, making some bubbles that not really suit him, but would make the room smell nice and block out all that reeks out from him when he starts to undress, preening under your touch when you help to unclasp couple of things off his gear, könig holding down from to not shove your hand down his crotch.
it's when you join him that he gets insistent, all your shy act dropping down, your nails raking down the expanse of his toned, tissued back with tiny, reddening streaks, as könig corners you against the bathtub ceramic, moaning raggedly and humping your pussy persistently, messy, hips grinding and twitching, and the way he acts so eager and silly makes you really aroused, mewling right against his wet ear as he sloppily makes out with your neck, his hair and stubble rubbing all over your sensitive, bruised skin, sharp teeth's closing around the warmed flesh.
seems like now, you have a strange kind of boyfriend, a military colonel, a right pervert, and a pussy drunk pup that pumps your soppy, gummy cunt full of his thick, creamy release, one he kept in his balls especially for your meeting, his vision nearly blackening from how long his cock throbbed and spurted, squeezed tight by your pulsing, milking walls, enjoying your palms stroking his face, cooing at him hushed and lulling, everything könig dreamt of.
main masterlist. quidelines.
4K notes · View notes
logaenhowlett · 2 months ago
Text
TEACH YOU HOW TO GET TO PUREST HELL - L.H.
Tumblr media
Summary: On the way to one of his cage fights, Logan's truck begins to break down and that's how he meets you, the owner of a repair shop in Northern Alberta. He promises to pay you with his winnings - but what he ultimately offers is far more interesting.
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Fluff, Flirting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex (against the cage), Aftercare, Logan's a snarky motherfucker (but secretly a softie)
A/N: The filthiest 4k I've ever written. I just know he was a menace during his cage fighter era. It's okay though, I'll still be clawing at the enclosure. Title creds to Radiohead. Hope you enjoy!
MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
Smoke curls around him, bearing a semblance of warmth against the biting wind. Logan's grip on the steering wheel is loose, the other arm draped lazily across the window. He flicks his fingertips ever so often, the ashes of his cigar disappearing into the falling snow. Mile after mile, the same barren landscape stretches before him.
He's lost amidst the silence, having turned the radio all the way down in frustration at the nonsense plaguing the stations earlier. As sunshine glares through the windshield, he scrunches his eyebrows, vaguely entertaining some ideas swirling in his mind.
Hours pass by painfully slow. He tries to ignore the low rumbling that interrupts his flow of thoughts, body firmly protesting against this all-alcohol diet he'd unintentionally adopted. Logan skims a hand into the glove compartment, clicking his tongue when he discovers only a few wrappers lying inside. Slumping back into the seat, he takes another drag, disappointment etching onto his features.
An orange, flashing icon on the dashboard snaps his attention. His eyes dart to the blinking light, a sense of irritation washing over him when he recognises the ‘check engine’ symbol. In a haste, he pulls the truck over, slamming the door shut behind him as he ventures into the cold to inspect the issue. Though he has an extensive knowledge of motorcycles, by no means does that expertise carry over to whatever mess he finds beneath the hood. Logan returns with a sigh, recalling a faded road sign he'd passed ages ago - at least he isn't awfully far from his destination.
In the distance, the town welcome monument brings him some sort of peace. After driving by plenty of dimly lit diners and pubs, he reluctantly asks a stranger for directions to the nearest repair shop. Logan arrives shortly thereafter, parking at the entrance of this seemingly empty building. Curious, he scans the place, sliding out of his seat in search of anyone.
The distinct ring of metal hitting the floor has him spinning around. He fights back the amused huff at the sight of you, bottom lip slightly caught between his teeth in an attempt to stop the smirk threatening to break free. His eyes rake over your figure as you come closer - appreciating the way your overalls perfectly capture the slopes and curves of your body - before finally, rising to meet your unimpressed expression.
"What're you here for?"
There's a smidge of annoyance in your words, a reaction he very much enjoys being the reason for. He nods towards the truck parked out front, "Problem with the engine."
When you brush past him, Logan spots a name neatly embroidered onto your otherwise soiled clothes. Smiling, he follows after you, shamelessly dropping his gaze to your ass for a moment.
Waiting patiently while you poke around the hood, he steals glances at your profile, filled with the sudden urge to wipe away the grease stain remnants off your cheeks, "Yeah... looks like the head gasket needs replacing."
Logan groans to himself before agreeing with your judgment. He runs a hand across his face, stilling in brief confusion when you chuckle quietly.
"Somethin' funny?" He asks, noting how you browse the insides of his camper with a flair of barely-masked mockery.
"Just admiring the interior design."
That one almost draws a scoff out of him. Logan knows his living quarters are rather bare-bones in nature, at best, providing decent shelter for when he's on the go. Inside, a makeshift bed large enough for a man of his size and basic kitchen appliances - though he rarely uses those. It's all he cares for anyway, yet there's a tinge of self-consciousness he shakes before gruffly responding, "You can do it by tonight?"
"Tonight?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise, "Fine... but it's gonna set you back about three grand."
"I got half for now."
A sharp laugh pierces his ears. And even though it's undoubtedly fake, he thinks you look pretty like this - shooting what can't be anything less than a deadly glare just for him. The corners of his lips tilt up when your tone suddenly becomes stern, "That's not how it works, buddy."
"Listen, I got a fight later, I'll be good for it."
"What? You that sure you're gonna win?"
You're teasing him. You know it, and so does he. Logan studies the way your hand rests against your hip, a challenging glint behind your eyes while you consider this ridiculous suggestion. He moves one step closer and proudly welcomes the surge of satisfaction at the slight crack of your demeanour.
"Darlin', I always win." It's a whisper that leaves him, hushed and dangerously low. Giving your shoulder a playful nudge as he walks by, he circles to the trailer behind the truck, retrieving his motorcycle. He smirks, pleased to witness such a glimpse of weakness, "Eleven-thirty. O'Malley's. I'll see you there."
The engine revs with each twist of his wrist, the movement so precise and natural. As he sinks onto the bike, the suspension adjusting to his weight, he sends you a wink.
"And if you lose?" You shout over the blaring sounds.
With one final grin, "Just fix my truck, alright."
Tumblr media
Even from outside, O'Malley's is deafeningly loud. The wooden door creaks lightly with the gentlest push, and a mixture of overly enthusiastic yells paired with the clashing of glass greet your presence. You're no regular here whatsoever, but the fights that occur in this bar are usually the talk of the town. And despite its reputation, you've never had much interest in being surrounded by a crowd of angry, intoxicated men - all drowning beneath the crude insults and empty threats tossed into the air.
Some of the patrons, customers you recognise from work, acknowledge you with a polite smile while you settle into a booth near the cage. As you observe the utter chaos around the room, it only cements your distaste for this so-called form of entertainment. The current match's loser staggers past your table, barely walking on two feet even with the support of his friends.
All you can think about is returning home with your hard-earned cash. It was a rather tiring day, running around salvage yards scouring for spare parts to tend to the old piece of junk he'd called a truck. Not to mention the unforgiving weather, which seemed determined to make your day more miserable. And to top it all off, the jerk wanted it done by nightfall - the audacity! Just the simple reminder of today's events has your body tensing from restlessness.
Behind you, a group of men sneer amongst themselves and between their slurring, the words "pretty boy" and "his ass kicked" grasp your attention. Turning around, you watch as they hand over money to some younger fella, taunting others to join the bet. Oh, that makes your blood boil. This Logan had strolled into your shop with nothing but a superficial promise for your services, and now, he's presumed to lose?
You stand up abruptly, peering across the space in search of him. A rush of fury courses through you at the same time you spot him casually lounging in the corner. As you approach, the faint glow of the bulb illuminates his face, a cloud of smoke momentarily hiding the smirk playing on his lips. His chuckle cuts through the hum of the jukebox he's leaning on, eyes crinkling with a kind of smugness at your arrival.
"You're joking." The bottle of whiskey between his fingers shocks you the most, "Are you seriously getting drunk before your fight?"
Logan grins at your concerned expression, eyes tracing you up and down, "You fix it?"
"Yes, I fucking fixed it. Took me all day!" Fists clenching, you stare at him intently, "Look, I did my job - you better do yours."
"Don't worry 'bout it, darlin'. I'm a man of my word." He dismisses you completely, taking a prolonged swig of his drink. A beat passes before he lazily holds up two fingers right to your face, "Scout's honour."
He laughs again when you roughly shove his hand aside, not sparing another second for this cocksure attitude. You grumble under your breath, making your way back to the booth, "It's three fingers, asshole."
A few matches take place over the next hour, and you're only getting more antsy as each of the competitors exits the cage with nothing short of bloody faces and broken bones. The audience roars all of a sudden, some even rattling the fence as this new person strides into the threshold.
Of course, he'd stripped his shirt off and the sight of his muscle-toned chest only serves to further fuel your irritation. Logan's eyes find yours immediately, looking past the crowd of hecklers now whistling at him. With a nod, he throws you a confident smirk and turns to his rival.
The man he's up against is much more burly and has a couple of inches on him. Though that doesn't seem to faze Logan in the slightest, instead he's flexing his arms almost playfully before adopting a fighting stance. Every punch and kick has you twitching in your seat, your feet firmly stuck to the ground in anticipation.
Remembering how he'd chugged an entire bottle of liquor earlier, you're astonished by the ferocity with which he attacks his opponent, dodging most moves with deadly precision. As he lands more jabs, the spectators begin to jeer and boo, swarming the enclosure of the cage in a tantrum. You peek over their shoulders, ducking away from the things they're flinging around. There's a collective gasp when he knocks out the other man, and you sigh in relief.
Leaning towards the cage, a cigar lightly pressed against his mouth, Logan's focus shifts to you. His chest is heaving from all the physical exertion, skin damp from the sweat. As he exhales the smoke, blowing a kiss in your direction, a satisfied expression returns to his face. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving the arena with no regard for the protesting crowd.
You follow after him, squeezing through the tightly packed space. He's settling a score with the owner, a wad of rolled cash passing between them as a reward. After a nod of mutual agreement, Logan faces you, tossing his leather jacket on. And while you're ultimately happy he won, there's also this urge to smack the cheeky look that seems to be glowing as you come closer.
What's more upsetting is the fact that he is undeniably gorgeous - especially like this, all sweaty and wound up from the adrenaline rushing inside. And of course, he doesn't miss how your gaze wanders to the sliver of skin peeking through his jacket, every slight movement only revealing more.
Logan grabs a few bills from the roll of money and stuffs them into his back pocket, holding the rest out towards you. As you reach for the cash, he swiftly draws his hand back with a teasing smile, "Have a drink with me."
"No."
"C'mon." He drags out, repeating the same thing when you try again, "No one needs their cute, little mechanic right now."
Watching you sigh triggers a thrill of excitement, an unspoken victory he claims with no shame. With a simple gesture, he leads you towards a secluded booth, determined to make this a worthwhile exchange. Despite your hesitation, he maintains a sort of relaxed energy, draping his arm along the seat - his eyes not straying from yours.
Two shots of vodka are placed on the table and Logan mirrors your action, slowly raising the glass to his lips. In no time, the air of unease dissipates, replaced by a comfortable silence while the drinks keep coming. As the night wears on, casual conversation flows between you and he asks a few things like how long you've lived here, why you became a mechanic and eventually, when he slides you the money, "What now, darlin'? You gonna leave?"
His voice, dripping with honeyed sweetness, sends a shiver down your spine. You can't exactly place the feeling, but it's a tangle of exasperation and something else - something you're not quite ready to define. Instead, you blame it on the drinks, the late hour, and the fact that there's an incredibly attractive man just inches away.
As frustration envelops your thoughts, you suddenly excuse yourself and head towards the bathroom. The alcohol, previously a gentle companion, now seems to be taking its toll. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you try to fight against the sensations running through your body. The splash of cold water does little to your state of mind, yet you're back outside in what feels like a tilted world, using all your strength to walk straight.
As you brush past the cage, someone collides into you. Desperate for balance, you reach out to grip the fence, but a strong hand lays steady on your lower back. With a gasp and a tilt of your head, you're caught off-guard when Logan comes into your view. His arm snakes around to gently hold your waist, his body now pressing into yours.
Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, you tear your attention away from him and glance at the wire pricking your fingers, "This is fucking sharp."
He doesn't break the eye contact. A low hum vibrates through his chest as he leans in, the warmth of his breath dancing with yours. The space between you slowly shrinks, whatever lighthearted facade he'd worn earlier vanishes only to be replaced by something raw and inexplicable.
"How're you not bruised?" You whisper, remembering the way he'd been thrown against the cage earlier.
"Call it a special talent."
Despite your better judgment, you find yourself captivated by him, the intensity of his gaze reeling you in. And so, you decide to play his game, "Can you teach me?"
Logan pauses, "You wanna learn... how to fight?"
"Just a little punch or something."
A faint smile spreads across his face, you're absolutely sure he can feel the way your heart is pounding. When his lips lightly brush against your ear, a quiet rumble escapes and something flickers in your gut - a twist of exhilaration laced with a hint of caution.
There's barely anyone left in the bar at this point besides the one or two stragglers hanging around. Logan and you stand alone in the cage, seemingly tucked away in a little pocket of your own. He doesn't wander too far, remaining within an arm's distance while demonstrating the proper technique for a jab - the motion so fluid and effortless.
Your initial attempts to mimic his movements are clumsy and awkward, his amusement only growing more evident with each try. Slipping behind you, he sheds the jacket, once again exposing his glorious muscles and the thought of tracing his vein-riddled biceps with your tongue leaves you dazed for a moment. This time, he circles his arms around you and guides your hands into the correct position.
As you practice, your bodies nudge against each other, his breath fans across your neck and ignites a fire within you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with implicit desire. You can almost feel his gaze burning into you, every second posing a challenge to cross this imaginary line.
The rest of the patrons are ushered out the door, the owner nodding at Logan before disappearing into the back room. And the silence settles in, a stark contrast to all the commotion that lingered for hours prior. You notice the difference, inching towards the exit, "Looks like they're closing up."
Before you can move away, Logan's hand shoots out to catch your wrist, "And we got it all to ourselves."
"What?"
"Might've slipped the owner a little somethin’."
His fingers trail up your arm, thumb gently pushing your soft skin. Slowly, he brings you closer, his words just a whisper of heat on your cheek. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, a rhythm echoing your own racing heart. Your voice, hoarse and strained, barely manages a response, "Is this how you budget? No wonder you're broke."
It's his laughter that breaks you at first, followed by, "You got a smart mouth, darlin'. Tell me, what else can it do?"
His lips hover mere inches above yours, there's a moment of hesitation hanging in the air - an out, if you don't want this. But, temptation is a dangerous siren and you're already ensnared by her song.
Fuck it.
Logan's dog tags hang pretty between the slopes of your breasts, his mouth moving against yours in a rough, demanding fashion. It's sloppy. It's wet. And it's goddamn heavenly when his fingers thread through your hair, the gap between you now completely erased. You cling to him as if he's an anchor, nails digging into his shoulders while he pins you to the cool metal of the cage.
He wants to touch you. To feel the warmth radiating straight off your body. The straps of your overalls fall from his force, he takes the opportunity to slide one hand through the side, kneading your waist with a kind of tenderness that surprises him too. When you take a second to breathe, Logan peppers kisses along your jawline, then some beneath your ear before grazing his lips on your neck.
The pulsing vein he finds nearly has him growling in pleasure, "Fuck, darlin'... feel so good already... can't wait to taste you when I'm done..."
He stills when you gasp, glancing up through his lashes and then quietly chuckling at your flustered expression. Yet, he can't revel in his victory for any longer than a blink, your palm tilts his head back before you fiercely capture his mouth once more.
His name rolls out your lips, drawn out and glazed with an obvious need. Taking a deep inhale, Logan feels the bulge in his jeans growing with each passing moment. You're only getting restless as his hands roam over your body, becoming nothing more than a whimpering mess all from his doing.
"Lemme hear you for real, baby... don't be shy." His fingers latch onto the cage, using it to thrust forward and deepen the kiss. Your clothes end up pooling at your feet, the barriers between you peeling away with every layer gone. Now, skin to skin, sweat glistening on your brow, you're left bare and vulnerable to his touch.
Logan reaches down, spreading your thighs wide enough till he can push your panties aside, stroking the outside of your entrance. Clenching his jaw when he's met with a distinct wetness, "Hidin' all this for me?" He almost laughs at how you curl forward and then whine his name, craving for any part of him to be inside you, "Hm... what'd you say to me before? Three fingers?
With no warning, he slides exactly three inside your cunt, pumping in and out as best as he can, "So fuckin' tight, darlin'... c'mon... show me you're ready for the real thing." He knows he's doing something right when you squirm at his actions, jumping at the invitation to delicately flick your clit before sinking his fingers back into you.
"Logan-"
Pain consumes you as he continues, tears springing to your eyes. You've never felt pleasure like this, so intense and so profound, words lost amongst the moans trembling out your lips. Your knees begin to shake under the pressure, and his free hand immediately cups your thigh, securing your body to his. As you call out for him, urging him to fuck you senseless, he tugs his fingers away.
The belt flies, jeans tossed behind in an instant and he grunts, freeing his hard length from his boxers. The tip of his cock teases your folds, the precum slicking down from the head. His nose presses against your cheek when your hand runs up and down - getting him all nice and ready. Breath hitching at the sensation, Logan involuntarily bucks his hips, your eagerness carrying him over the edge.
He's careless about lining himself up, giving it no more than a fleeting thought before thrusting into you. Whatever floods your brain at that moment is much more potent than anything you've ever experienced. It's vigorous, almost animalistic in nature, how hard he fucks you. The veins on his arms become more apparent as he hoists you up, pushing you against the cage. He can hear the little fibers of your skin tearing because of the friction, yet he does little to ease that pain, knowing you're enjoying the hurricane of emotions whisking you away.
Logan pants into your tits, nipping at the soft flesh, "Wanted to ruin that pussy since I saw you this mornin'... all dirty and pissed off at me - god. Thought 'bout somethin' else on your face too."
"Logan - don't... fucking stop. Feels amazing... wanna feel all of you." The words escape you - laboured and breathless - your eyes soften in delight, watching this sort of enraptured expression wash across his face, "So good for me, Logan."
So good.
For me.
And boy, if that doesn't spur him on.
Picking up speed, his movements turn greedy, grinding into you with a degree of passion he's never felt before. As you tug his hair, fingers raking through the dark tresses in a frenzy, Logan taps into the primal energy swelling within. His hands squeeze you further, your thighs constricting his waist as he drives up into you, "That's it baby... fuckin' perfect. Takin' all of me like a good girl... mhmm."
The way your body helplessly arches has him grinning, but that quickly gets swept away when his cock twitches inside you, aching to burst at any given moment. He tries his hardest to control himself, longing for your cries of pleasure as you finish. Thrusts weakening to a leisurely pace, Logan grunts into your neck, mumbling a string of curses while he rides out this wave. Thankfully, you're on the precipice as well, your body reaching its peak with a shiver.
His cum trickles out of you, thighs getting sticky as it seeps lower and lower. Lost in a daze, Logan thinks he can see the damn sun in your eyes. With a gentle swipe of your cunt, he sheepishly licks his own fingertips, a smile brightening his face.
Tumblr media
The mattress, once a source of great discomfort, now feels like paradise as you cuddle into the crook of his neck, the soft rhythm of your breath soothing him to a state of peace. He'd carried you to his truck earlier, threatening you with a barrage of kisses when you dangled his keys in front of him. There was a rather short game of tag before you relented and collapsed into his embrace, tiredly blinking up at him. He'd tucked the loose strands of your hair back then tenderly caressed your cheek. It took all but one affectionate grin to convince you to spend the night in his camper.
Not a single inch of your body is free from his touch. He pulls you even closer, tracing patterns around the tiny scratches spreading across your shoulders. If you'd asked him yesterday, he would tell you he has no plans of sticking around this town, grown used to a life of impermanence. Yet, as he rests, tangled in your arms, Logan finds a reason to stay.
1K notes · View notes
bi-writes · 5 months ago
Note
I imagine that Johnny's "uncle" instincts are so strong that he would do anything for the MOB and Simon's kids, it doesn't matter that "the kids" are cats. Also i think Simon would have a talk with MOB (and Soap) along the lines "if something happens to me he is the person who would take care of you". ~ i spend to much time daydreaming about this fic
mail-order bride
johnny watches with a careful eye as simon disassembles his rifle. he's methodical about it, very careful. he has a clear desk in front of him, and every piece that comes out has a place on the surface, a special spot that it must go.
"ye called fer me, LT?" johnny asks, knocking on the door gently. simon nods, not looking up from where he's sitting. he motions to the chair in front of the desk, and johnny takes a seat, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest and spreading his legs as he sits there. "what do ye need?"
"'ave somethin' ta say," simon mutters. "'n i'm gonna say it, and y'r gonna keep quiet and not interrupt me. and when i finish, ya aren't gonna say anythin' about it. and we aren't gonna talk about it ever again. say ya understand me, sergeant."
johnny swallows, shuffling in his seat before nodding.
"aye," he says lowly. "roger tha'."
simon sniffs, picking up the barrel and using a microfiber cloth to rub it clean. he leans back in his chair, not meeting johnny's eyes.
"tha' last op got me thinkin'," simon mutters. "thinkin' a lot." he sighs, deep from his chest. "wot would happen to my girls. if somethin' were to happen to me."
johnny purses his lips, his palms getting a little clammy. but he doesn't speak, because he's been ordered not to.
"and if tha' happens," simon continues. "i don't want anyone else lookin' after them except for you, johnny."
their eyes meet finally, and johnny swallows hard. it's a long gaze, and they hold each other there for a few moments to get an understanding of one another, to speak without speaking.
johnny stands, shaking his head. it's hard for him to believe that simon could die. he's unkillable. he's ghost. he's a man too capable of staying alive, too good at crawling out of early graves, that he doesn't understand truly what it is he's seeing in his lieutenant right now.
the thing in his eyes, he's just never seen it before. it's fear.
Tumblr media
"simon."
your greeting as he steps through the front door immediately makes his shoulders relax. you're in the living room in nothing but one of his old shirts, standing there with a big smile on your face. his eyes rake down your body, over your bare legs and socked feet. your smile is bright and contagious, and he drops his bag off as you come closer to him. as always, your hands find the hem of his skull mask and slip it up and over your head, and you giggle when he blushes as you look over his face.
"you're so handsome," you whisper, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you lean up on your toes and kiss him warmly, smoothing your hands up his big arms and wrapping them around his neck. simon can't help himself; he slides his hands down your back and slips them up the hem of the shirt you wear, cupping your ass in both gloved hands and squeezing hard. you laugh into the kiss, pulling away slowly, meeting his eyes. he looks tired. he looks...sad. "simon...is everything okay?"
you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, smudging the eye-black there, and he just shrugs. he doesn't lie. it isn't okay, he isn't okay, and you kiss him again to say you're sorry, because you don't know if he would want to hear that.
"i, uhm...ordered a pizza," you say softly. "thought we could watch a really bad movie and eat gross."
simon smirks, leaning his forehead against yours.
"i'd like tha'."
as you're plating up greasy slices of pizza, simon passes a piece of paper to you. it's an index card with a phone number on it and an address. the address is far, really far, and you lick the sauce off your finger before looking up at him.
"what is this?" you ask, taking it from him.
"tha's johnny," simon murmurs. "if anythin' ever happens...if ya ever need me...'n i'm not 'ere--" you open your mouth to say something, but simon shushes you gently. "--if somethin' ever happens to me...you call johnny."
you purse your lips, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking back down at the card.
"nothing's gonna happen to you, simon--"
he cups your face in his hands, shaking his head. he's staring down at you, pleading, asking you to just do this for him, to just say yes, to not fight him on this one thing because he needs this.
you press the index card to your chest gently, nodding finally.
"yeah...okay..." you whisper. "i'll call him, simon. if something happens...i'll call him."
if something happens, if something happens, if something happens--
"simon," you whisper, grabbing his eyes again. he blinks, and you compose yourself when you see that glaze over his eyes, the slight shake of his bottom lip. you have never seen him this way. you have never seen him shake ever before. this was your husband. simon riley, made of nothing but dense rock and steel. but his thoughts are far away. his thoughts are somewhere else, seeing a scenario in his mind that you imagine may not be hard to think about, as if he's lived something like it himself.
the unknown. the despair. the aftermath.
the inevitable.
"simon."
your voice brings him back. he's back in the kitchen. he's back at home. he can hear the cats in the living room, the little bells on their collars ringing as they chase each other in little chaotic circles.
he's back with you. in his little bubble. he's praying to a god he doesn't believe in that it won't burst so easily.
"dont worry, simon. i'll...i promise i'll call."
2K notes · View notes
pedrasacorn · 5 months ago
Text
Pairings: Jason x fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, head injury
Summary: self indulgent,
“Hood—” your broken voice cuts through his adrenaline rush, echoing through the dark, damp alleyway.
He holsters his guns quickly, “Hey hey hey—hey sweetheart. Look at me.” He brushes the blood stained hair away from your eyes, “There she is…I gotchu sweet thing.” His voice feels so distant, morphed by the modulator in his helmet into something you don’t recognize.
Your eyes start to wander to the mess of blood. He blocks your sight with his body, “No…You of all people, don’t need to see that,” He cups your cheek, tilting your face up, “That’s not for you okay? You keep those eyes on me.”
He removes his gloves. Although his bare hands are clean, the blood is always there.
His fingertips barely touch your cheek, just enough to ground you.
The red of his helmet warps as tears blur your vision. He quickly swipes them away. “That scumbag is not worth your tears.”
His eyes follow your tears as they mix with the blood on your face. Not your blood. He grimaces.
God nothing bad should ever get the chance to touch you. Yet here he was with his palm cradling your face. He, is a hypocrite.
“I’m taking you to my safe house, s’that okay?”
Your throat feels too raw to speak. So you nod.
The world around you tilts, before strong arms wrap around your shoulders, “Easy there sweets, I gotcha.”
He scoops you up. This man who you’ve seen toss full grown men like rag dolls—still surprises you because you weigh nothing. You feel like you weigh nothing, but you’re not holding yourself. Wait he weighs…you to him weigh…you weigh to him like…which one of you weighs nothing?
“Jay I don’ feel good.” You croak.
“Shh I know sweetheart, I know. Almost home.”
You barely register being set down on the bathroom counter.
He unclips his helmet, and tosses it to the floor. Something stirs within when his green eyes meet yours.
“I saw it,” Your voice trembles as unshed tears choke you, “the blood.”
His brows are furrowed with concern, his full bottom lip is almost a pout. Angels above he has never looked softer. It helps sooth every bit of reluctance now that you can see his face again.
Your eyes feel heavy.
His thumb brushes over your brow, “Open those eyes f’me. Please…” You squint at him as he brings a small flashlight to your eye line.
You knew this one, you’d watched asmr videos of it.
“Concoction.”
He huffs through his nose, a smile lilting his mouth, pulling at the scar above his lip. “Concussion sweetness. Follow the light.”
You do so halfheartedly, not much of an overachiever right now. “S’con-cuntion?” Your tongue feels heavy, clumsy in your mouth.
“Yeah…s’okay though I’ve had plenty of my own. You’re staying here tonight.”
The cotton filling your brain makes your nod feel weightless.
A warm washcloth is brought your cheek, you lean into it happily letting it melt the bite of the cold alley still clinging to your skin. God you can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this.
“You with me pretty girl?” He croons, as he wipes the dried blood from your brow, and cheeks.
You nod, almost dazed.
Tears blur your vision, but he doesn’t try to stop you from crying, just patiently wipes them away with the cloth.
Contently closing your eyes you whisper, “Your hands are soft.”
He is careful not to wear his heart anywhere near his sleeve, and somehow you’ve coaxed him into wearing it on his face. “You’re soft.” He murmurs.
The blood is finally gone.
He sets you down on his bed, keeping you propped up on the bedpost, “Don’t lay down yet.” He coaxes.
You focus on the coolness of the wood, until the bed dips next to you.
“I’m gonna help you get dressed, in the least mortifying way for you possible. I’m so sorry but also…” his eyes rake over you, “I’m not letting you catch the disease that killed the dinosaurs.”
Touché. Who knows what Gotham has cooked up in her petri dish.
“S’okay, m’clothes feel gross.”
He nods curtly before oh so gently lifting your sweater over your head, quickly swapping it for his tshirt.
It smells good—like spring—but you wish he’d given you one off his back. It’d smell like him.
You hold up the shirt to keep it out of contact with your pants. As careful as diffusing a bomb he unbuttons them. “Lift your hips f’me.” He holds you steady, one hand on your hip as the other tugs them down your legs. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you lean your body weight against him.
“Ya good like this? I have pants they’re just…large.”
You let the shirt back down, it thankfully falls past your hips. “M’okay.”
You’re weightless again as he lifts you, gently laying you on the mass of pillows.
“Oh hallelujah.” You sigh.
Something brushes your nose, you pry your eyes open to be met with his.
“Swallow these.” You wash the pills down with the bottle of water he presses against your lips.
“You’re gonna hate me for the next 24 hours.” He gently brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumb.
“S’okay ’cause I love you even when I hate you.”
He huffs amusedly. It’s not the same love he feels for you, it can’t be.
“Yeah…I love ya too.”
———
A/n: I stayed up way too late so the concussion yapping is just me trying to figure out what I’m trying to say
2K notes · View notes
stargirlrchive · 4 months ago
Note
simon getting jealous over another coworker flirting with his work wife ? 👀
i had tew much fun writing this lmao
one — two — three — four
you don’t know how it happened, one second there was a recruit standing before you, and in the next you were shoved against the stretcher, tactical pants and panties pooled between your legs as simon bent you over to fuck his thick cock into you.
well—you do know how it happened, but it was so quick it left you dizzy.
anderson had been brought in by two other recruits, limping and grunting as they plopped him onto the medical bed. a deep gash on his upper thigh from one of the other recruits knicking his skin during practice.
it was deep, and angry—your fingers itching to patch him up as you ripped open a bigger hole on his tactical pants to get the wound cleaned. “you shouldn’t have let it get this far, anderson.”
“it’s sanders.”
you blinked up at him, a small frown on your lips, “pardon?”
“it’s sanders—not anderson.”
heat bloomed on your cheeks, the newest batch of recruits had been here for four months already and you were positive you’d only ever addressed him incorrectly. you cleared your throat, embarrassed. “i’m sorry—”
“it’s no big deal, i’m sure you can make up for it.”
your nerves flared as he cut you off, at what the grimy smirk on his face was insinuating. you couldn’t hold back the grimace on your face as you worked on patching him up and getting him out of your work space.
through the annoyance and blood pumping in your ears, you missed the big bulk of your lieutenant sliding into your space.
sander’s voice dropped lower, in what you assumed was his way of being seductive, “don’t be like that, honey.”
you forced yourself to not be overly rough with the way you were cleaning the gash on his thigh, fingers working methodically on his wound.
“i can show you a real good time.” and then his fingers were threading through your hair, the shock causing you to jostle as he tangled his fingers in the root of your hair to tug your neck upwards.
your heart pumped in anger, ready to yell at him to fuck off—to not fucking touch you. but simon beat you to it.
“get y’r fucking hands off my wife.”
the growl in simon’s voice had you tensing yet melting at the same time. shivers running down your back and heat coiling in your belly.
sanders scrambled upwards, back tense and eyes wide. you stumbled backwards, simon steadying you by placing a thick hand on your waist and pulling you to him.
“lieutenant riley—i had no idea, she didn’t-i didn’t know she was your wife.”
simon’s chest was practically vibrating with his anger, snarling down at the man in front of you like a rabid dog. heat bloomed between your thighs, clit aching at his proximity, at the way he protected you.
“i d’nt give two fucks what you know—get the fuck out of here.”
you had never seen someone leave your quarters faster, sanders left running like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.
your body sagged into simon’s, relief filling you from the inside out as his fingers trailed over you. searching.
“you alright, sweetheart?”
you nod, heart thrumming and trying to wrap your head around what happened, “i need words, baby. talk to me. did he—did he do anything, touch you more than he did—”
you turned in his arms, face burying into his chest to breathe in his scent. “m’fine, he didn’t-i just can’t believe he had the nerve.”
simon’s eyes raked over you behind his skull mask. assessing, trying to make sure you really were alright. “i’m fine, simon. i swear. and feeling so much better because you’re here.”
he took a few more seconds to look you over, calloused finger gripping your throat gently and rubbing his gloved thumb over your jaw.
“almost fuckin’ killed him f’r touching you.”
a small laughed bubbled in your throat, leaning into him, “i’m almost positive he pissed himself. never seen you look so scary.”
his fingers loosened on your throat gently, “did i scare you?” his voice was awfully raw, almost vulnerable.
“no. thought it was hot, honestly.”
one of his fingers twitched gently, pressing into you more firmly and you felt his cock. hard and full against your belly as he walked the two of you backwards. “yeah?”
“mhm, would’ve let you bent me over right in front of him if he hadn’t run off.”
simon’s rough voice caused heat to coil in your belly as he turned you over. pressing your back down to bend you over as his cock pressed against your ass, “m’not someone who likes to share, sweetheart.”
your back arched into him, pressing your ass harder against his cock before he pinned your back down with a heavy palm and used his other one to unbutton your pants. “think you need to make that clear for everyone else then.”
2K notes · View notes
kachowden · 5 months ago
Text
𝙸 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢
Tumblr media
| Hockey TeamVarious x Reader
Солнышко (Little Sun)
Yandere x reader (Part 1?)
—————————————————————————
An idea I have had for a while now.
So imagine yourself on a team. Except you’re not a player, no.
Actually..you’re technically not on the team because you’re one of a few people who rotates your position. You’re the mascot.
The beloved silly mascot of your team. The logo, the literal image of your hockey team. And you’re damn good too!
You get the crowds roaring, positively pumped-up for the game! And whether your team wins or loses, the highlights are always the silly little mascot who throws popcorn into the crowd or tosses shirts at unsuspecting families.
From time to time during the game you’d make your way onto the ice. Play fight with the team, steal a puck, steal a stick. Toss them to a crowd member. It was always in good fun, and the audience loved it!
And you weren’t just beloved by the fans, oh no no no, you were beloved by the team too.
So much so that at some point, the demand for your specific “mascotting” was so great, the other workers had to find a new career path. Damn shame too, you happened to like them quite a bit. But extra pay right? And it’s hard to deny how flattering it is being the fan favorite.
Of course it didn’t even cross your mind to question these circumstances, nor did you think to question the sudden increasing interactions you had with the team. Publicity, you assumed.
From number 47 dragging you onto the ice for some impromptu lessons. Still in costume might I add. Mid Play.
To number 13 laughing joyfully as he shoved you into the locker room after an intense game, and offered to wash your back for spending so long in such a sweaty suit. You denied him of course, the locker rooms weren’t meant for you! Duh.
You didn’t even question when number 1, the captain and goalie of the team, braced you against a barrier during half time, when your mask had precariously been knocked off by a rowdy fan. Nor did you see the viscous scowls directed at said fan. It was probably just keep your identity safe after all.
The score was 7 to 0 that game, in favour of your team. You weren’t sure what had pumped them up so much but whatever works right?
Course, you did get a puck to the cheek at one point and had to sub out for a bit. The players were non too happy when they discovered a different worker under your special suit. They were in a bad mood for the remainder of the game.
Number 19, who had a pension for bad behavior on the ice, sought you out specifically after the game too.
———-47—————19————1—————13———-
Your shoulders sagged tiredly against the cool wall of the changing room, blessing the AC that pumped through the units. Your jersey stuck sweatily to your skin, and you gasped with a dry mouth before a gloved hand appeared in your vision, a water bottle covered in condensation presented before you like a holy grail.
“You look like shit.” A scratchy voice scolds lightly by your ear, your eyes fluttering to glance at the rugged features of one of the team players settled besides your face, wedged deep into your personal space. The scent of sweat and body spray (axe probably) wafts into your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch instinctively before you give a lopsided smile.
“Hey Donovan, s’nice to see you. How’s the play been?” You gratefully take the cold bottle from his grasp, finger tips grazing the rough and warm texture of his gloves before meeting the cool plastic of the team merchandise bottle. Your little mascot stared back at you in a 2D style.
“Shitty. You’re supposed to be out there, not some random loser who can’t even get the crowd excited right. Now the teams pissed and it’s your fault.” His words end in a sneer, despite the attentive way his eyes are raking across your figure for injury beyond the welt on your cheek bone. His body near touches yours and causes another wave of sweat to seep into your skin.
With a thoughtful hum and a sip of refreshing water you push yourself from the locker, stepping into the more open air and cooling yourself off, while dark brown eyes watch you beneath a furrowed, displeased brow.
“Your guys’s concern flatters me. It’s nice having such thoughtful co-workers.” Your lips smile thoughtfully, glancing at him from your shoulder.
He looks incredulous, which somehow lands on being the least aggressive expression you’ve ever seen on him.
“Co-workers?” He echoes, like the word is the most foul tasting thing that’s ever touched his tongue. “We’re teammates. Not co-workers.”
You wave your hand dismissively, back turned and unaware of the tall figure that approaches your bubble again from behind. “Well, you and the guys definitely are. Maybe even the ice scrapers, though I’d argue they’re in the same realm as me to be honest. More staff than anything yknow?” Your tone is light, you know what your position is. And of course you’re grateful to be the main mascot, but you’re aware of your replacements that stand idle at the food stands, handing out popcorn between half times.
“I mean I’m just the person in the suit, anyone could play that part. I just hope I could train the next guy that signs up for the position, gotta make sure they do my legacy justice right-“
Big hands, no longer covered by scratchy material grip into your hips, swallowing the skin in raw heat and tugging you backwards. Your feet stumble and trip for less then a second before you’ve collided into a broad chest. The feeling of a hot breath condenses on the back of your neck, covering up your barely escaped laugh and choke.
Hair tickles the side of your forehead, as Donovan leans over your shoulder. His eyes set forward to the opposing wall lockers just like your own, his thumbs rubbing thoughtless shapes into your skin. He exhales, like he’s just spent the last four hours dealing with an ill tempered toddler that he’s finally reached his wits end with.
“You’re stupid.”
Your lips part in offense, ready to defend your intelligence before you’re prematurely silenced by a new hand that joins the mass of limbs, and rests gently across your dry lips.
“Let him finish, Солнышко.”(Solnishko)*
A thick accent reverberates into your ears, your eyes darting up to meet pale blue ones that gaze back at you so sternly. White teeth peer past his lips in what was probably a smile, but looked like a show of dominance with the way his canines sunk into the bottom of his lip.
“Don’t you have a team to manage, Cap?” Donovan snarls, teeth bared with displeasure at his private time with you being interrupted. With his arms circling more around your figure in a loose version of a back hug. You stay trapped between the two behemoths that cease every noise and shift of your joints with careful hands.
Carlson smiles, a thoughtful one that softens at you, his eyes never leaving yours now that he has your full attention, something that raises Donovan’s ire significantly. “I heard our little mascot wasn’t doing to well. I wanted to check up on them. I may have heard your little conversation as well.”
The word “little” always manages to filter into Carlsons sentences. And while one could blame it on English only being his second language, his reputation for being the teams most well spoken member speaks volumes otherwise. No, the real reason would have to be the sheer height he holds above all others. The authority he possesses that seeps into the rink and every room he walks into.
It’s not a simple slip of the tongue. It’s a reminder. That he is above every one he meets. He is the captain, and what he says is absolute.
Even the way he gazes down at you screams this thought, bullying its way into your skull as your brain refuses to acknowledge the sheer possessive, demeaning energy that seeps from his figure into yours, despite the alarm bells it rings through your system.
“It breaks my heart, Солнышко. You should know better.” His thumb curves along your jaw, thoughtful again, and practiced, engulfing your entire chin in what could be a crushing grip. But it isn’t, and it never will be. Not to you anyway. “Have we not shown you how much we adore your support in the rink? Have we been too dismissive of you?” He continues, though the mocking edge is nearly unnoticeable.
Donovan’s breath huffs into the shell of your ear, his figure hunched over you like a protective cloak, eyes still staring daggers at the taller man. “You think the team can we wait for us to…help remind our dear mascot how much we care about them?”
There’s a thoughtful hum, eye contact still unbroken through each word. “I’m sure they’ll be mad they didn’t get to join…but their forms were lacking today. They could use the extra practice.”
Carlson leaned forward, sky like eyes darkening like the sea as his nose hovers mere breathes from your own. “And I’ve heard that teaching in…more intimate settings, can lead to greater success in many fields..”
.
.
.
.
.
“Again.”
“I will not think lowly of my position on the team, I will not think of myself as replaceable, because I am the best-“
“Fucking.”
“….the best fucking mascot in the world. I am irreplaceable. I am the best.”
“Very good. Again.”
“It’s been 30 minutes!”
“Well last time we did 15 and that still wasn’t enough, so now we must double our efforts, Солнышко. Again.”
“Afterwards I’ll buy you one of those pretzels you like. If you want, I guess.”
“…….yeah okay.”
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
solardrop · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
silver.
aaron hotchner x reader.
Tumblr media
summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune
Tumblr media
Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.
"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.
"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.
"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'
You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.
You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."
He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.
"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"
"To torture me?"
"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"
"Baby no...."
"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"
You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.
"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"
" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."
You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.
"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"
"you're young-"
"I'm in my thirties-"
"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"
"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.
"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."
You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.
"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.
He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.
"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."
He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.
"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"
"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"
"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."
He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."
"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"
You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."
He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.
"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.
"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.
"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"
2K notes · View notes
lordprettyflackotara · 9 days ago
Text
what a heavenly way to die || the proxies
‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’
Tumblr media
sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary
tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place
a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3
“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”
“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”
Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.
On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.
Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.
But you? He couldn’t handle it.
His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.
“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.
“But you’ll freeze-”
“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”
His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.
“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.
“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.
“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.
You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.
“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.
“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.
You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.
You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.
“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.
“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.
You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-
“What the fuck are you two doing?”
Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.
Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.
“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.
Right?
You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.
“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.
“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.
“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.
“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.
Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.
Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.
Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.
“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.
Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.
He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.
The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.
“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”
538 notes · View notes
knight-of-flowerss · 7 months ago
Text
His Prize
I seem to have the Cregan Stark Fever-
NSFW
Masterlist
Tumblr media
The Northmen returned to Winterfell with their King, excited to see their families again.
But it wasn’t all in vain, Cregan Stark returned with a promise that was fulfilled on both sides. He would help the Queen in return of a marriage.
Queen Rhaenyra offered a marriage to her daughter, an alliance this strong would ensure their loyalty for eternity.
I sat upon the back of a gorgeous black mare, a silky black mane contrasting with your long, silver locks, matted in her ceremonial braids after a long ride to Winterfell.
Her large, string frame, built for work, strode in line with the Northmen, your newly wedded husband riding beside you on a beautiful white gelding, your powerhouse of a bourse towering over Cregan’s race-battle horse.
He looked relaxed and comfortable on top of his smaller horse, his gaze fixed on the trail infront of him but often breaking off to glance at your face from time to time. 
Winterfell was a large place, not as big as Dragonstone or Kingslanding but still large enough to intimidate anyone crossing or passing it’s threshold.
As they passed through the castle gates, the guards look at you with a look of recognition, not one you were use to back home but a curious recognition as they acknowledged the princess’ beauty.
Your once confident demeanour was replaced with embarrassment as every man, woman and child’s gaze was fixated upon you, your arrival bringing shocked looks to their faces.
Cregan noticed your demeanour change and he chuckled, a smirk forming on his face as he slowed down his horse and leaned towards you slightly, despite the height difference of your horses, you seem to be the same height.
“What happened to that fierce confidence you used to carry around, little princess?”
Your eyes flickered towards the large, bulky man that you now called your husband, your eyes raking up his body and landing on his face before replying,
“It’s just such a change from my home your grace, everyone who knows my name isn’t used to my presence unlike back at home.”
He chuckled softly, taking in your gaze as it roamed over his body, before he reached out a gloved hand to her, offering her a small smirk.
“You don’t have to call me ‘your grace’, darling. We are equals here.”
A shiver rose up your spine as you locked your eyes onto his gloved hand,
“I can’t help it your grace, it’s always been a habit of mine to respect others and use their titles.”
He continued to smirk, taking your hand in his and bringing it in the middle of them, his thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles. His body leaned in further towards her, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone,
“The I suppose I’ll just have to break you out of that habit, darling.”
A warm blush came to your cheeks, you tore your hand away from his in shyness and looked up infront of you and saw men signalling where to stop and get off our horses. You stopped at a halt and waited for the Northmen to fetch the steps for you to climb down.
But as I was waiting, Cregan had exited his horse and walked around your mare, he offered his left hand for you to grab as his right hand gripped your hip, helping you down.
Cregan stood there with a shit eating smirk, his eyes roaming over her body before looking up at your face, his smirk softening into a more gentle expression.
Once you were fully off the horse, he still didn’t remove his hands from your hips, still holding you close to him as he tilted his face to the side and studied your blushing face.
“My, my, what a lovely shade of pink on your cheeks, darling.”
Your eyes widened at his statement, you quickly diverted your eyes and let your silver locks flow over your face, covering your cheeks.
He chuckled again, amusement shining in his eyes as he watched you try to hide your blushing face. His hand gently rubs your hip through the fabric of your dress. He took a step closer to you, his body practically pressing against yours as he reached forward with his other hand and gently pushed the hair out of your face, his fingers tracing your jaw.
“Now, now, darling, why try to hide such a pretty blush? Hmmm?”
Your breathe hitches in your throat as he touches your jaw,
“My Lord, we really should get inside, my cheeks are merely flushed due to the coldness of the outside. It is freezing out here and it’s only going to get colder. We can warm up inside.”
You made up any excuse you could muster to get out of the situation. It’s not like you didn’t like having the King in the North doting on you, he was well mannered but quite forward, not that you necessarily minded, but you can’t handle others eyes on you, especially in intimate moments.
You enjoyed Cregan’s touch, he was a handsome and compelling man. A Stark. He had these eyes that could either make you shake in fear or knock your knees as you melt in his gaze.
He was attractive in every single sense possible. But you had just been wed off to him without a second thought from your mother and step-father, your own brother didn’t even protest.
You couldn’t give into his gaze just because he was your attractive husband.
He raised an eyebrow at your excuse, not fully believing it but he decided not to make a big deal out of it. He withdrew his hand from your jaw and took a step back, giving you some space as he took in your face once more, a hint of disappointment in your eyes.
“Hm, I suppose you’re right, it is rather could out here little dragon.”
He turned on his heel and began leading the way inside the castle, not glancing back to see if you were following.
You followed Cregan inside, his long legs taking fast strides and putting your legs to work to try and keep up with his fast pace. Eventually we had reached the large double doors.
Cregan pushed open the doors and led you inside , the sounds of the castle instantly filling your ears. Servants and guards hurried about, doing their assigned tasks.
Cregan walked with purpose, his steps large and strong as he walked towards the Lord’s chambers.
You looked around the hall briefly before you followed Cregan to a small corridor. Where was he going?
“Uhm.. my Lord? Where are we going? We walked through the hall and feast.”
Cregan didn’t stop walking, his pace still steady as he turned his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder, a smirk gracing his lips,
“Impatient, aren’t you, darling? I’m taking you to your new chambers.”
He turned his head forwards again as we had reached a big door, a servant stood outside the room and told Cregan that the room and a hot bath was prepared for him inside.
Cregan turned to the servant and nodded his head in thanks, the servant scurrying off and left the two of you alone.
He turned his gaze to you, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down.
“This will be your room from now on, darling. You’ll be living with me. Alone.”
You stuttered as your head shot up, my eyes staring into his, a mischievous glint dancing around his eye.
“Are you really sure we should be sharing chambers so soon my Lord? We have known eachother all but 2 years and in those two years we’ve only had a handful of interactions before we were wed, are you sure you’re comfortable with us sharing a room together?”
His smirk turned into a full blown smile, his eyes fixated on your face as he toon you in. Oh, you were feisty, he could tell that much.
“Oh, absolutely, darling. I assure you, I’m more than comfortable with it. Very comfortable, in fact.”
He took a step towards you, his smile never wavering as he continues speaking,
“Besides, we’re already married. I see no reason to delay such matters any longer.”
“If you truly wish, your grace.”
You looked up at him with large doe eyes, your lavender iris’s searching his metallic ones.
“Perhaps we should go inside the room and freshen up my Lord, it’s been a long trip and I feel as if I’m caked in dirt.”
You but your bottom lip out and shuffle on your feet, your arms now hugging yourself.
He chuckles, his gaze softening slightly as he took in your adorable expression. He could see right through your little act, you were using your pout and innocence to your advantage, and he found it both endearing and amusing.
He placed a gentle hand on your lower back, feeling how small you were compared to him.
“You’re not completely wrong, darling. You do have a little bit of dirt on your face.”
He raised his other hand, gently wiping away some of the dirt on your cheek with his thumb.
Your eyes focus on his hand, your breathe hitching in your throat. You move your face from his grip and diverted your gaze. You too a few steps towards the door and reached your hand out to grab onto the handle but paused before your fingers could graze the metal.
You turned your head to Cregan. Silently asking for permission to open the door.
Cregan chuckled again, noticing your hesitation and your silent question. He took a step closer to you, closing the gap between you, now standing directly behind you.
He place his hands on your hips, his breath lightly tickling your ear as he leaned his head down closer to you.
“You don’t need my permission to open the door, darling. This is your room too, remember? You can do whatever you wish.”
“I just want to make you happy my Lord” you replied.
He hummed as he felt your small body pressed up against his, his hands staying on your waist. He enjoyed having you so close, he relished the feeling of your curves in his grip.
He moved closer, his chest now flush against your back as he lowered his head once more, murmuring in your ear,
“And you already do, darling. You make me very, very happy.”
“And how is that my Lord?”
He chuckled, his hot breath still caressing the side of your face, sendings shivers down your spine.
“I have a beautiful, feisty and loyal wife who I will now be spending every night with for the rest of my life. What more could a man ask for?”
“How about we enter our room first my Lord, I still need to bathe.”
“Hm, of course, darling.”
He nodded in agreement and toons step back , allowing you to push open the door. He gestured for you to walk in first and followed close behind, his eyes roaming over your body once more before he shut the doors, locking it behind him.
You looked around the large room. A bed stood stoic in the middle of the room, covered with layers of soft and fluffy furs. There was a large two person table with wooden chairs, on top the table there was a jug and two glasses, and on the other side of the room there was a large tub filled with water and steam radiating off it.
Cregan watched your eyes rake over the room, a smirk on his face as he took in your expression.
He found your your innocent curiosity endearing, and he knew that you had probably never seen a Lords chambers before.
He walked over to one of the wooden chairs and began taking off his gloves, placing them on the table.
“Do you like it darling?”
“Very much so my Lord, the bed looks so inviting, it seems like it can keep me warm during the winters,.. like you my Lord..”
You turn towards the bath as he chuckles behind you. Your body was practically begging you to let it relax in the soothing water.
“Uhm, my Lord? Is there a curtain of the sort to cover the bathing area while I soak?”
Cregan chuckled, watching as you admired the bed and the tub of hot water. His eyes lingered on your form for a moment before he spoke again. He leaned against the table, a smirk slowly forming on his face
“Yes, darling, there is a curtain. But…”
He paused, his smirk widening at the thought of what he was about to request
“I have a request of you, first.”
“What do you request of me your grace?”
He pushed himself off the table, slowly walking up to you, his smirk still in place. He stopped when he was right in front of you, towering over your small frame, your face looking up at him with curiosity. He reached out a hand and gently touched your chin, tilting your face up even more.
“I want you…”
He paused, his smirk turning into a smile as he looked down at you.
“To undress for me. Slowly.”
Your eyes widen at his request, chest enlarging as you take in a deep breath.
“I’m not sure what you mean my lord. You want me to undress for you?..”
You stare into his eyes and part your lips, going to speak but the words don’t leave.
He chuckled again at your surprised expression, finding you innocent act to be quite amusing. He kept your chin tilted up, his fingers still lingering on your skin as he looked down at your face.
“I think you know exactly what I mean, darling.”
He lowered his other hand and placed it on your hip, his fingers gently rubbing your waist through the fabric of your dress.
You lick your lips and contemplate your next move, you end up grabbing his hands and pushing them off you and spinning on your heel. You stalk towards the tub, your back facing Cregan. You stop a few inches infront of the tub of water. Pausing before reaching up to unlace the front of your dress, slowly pushing it off your shoulders and exposing your slender arms.
Cregan watched as you walked towards the tub, his eyes fixated on your back as you began to undo the laces of your dress. He couldn't help but smile as you pulled the dress off your shoulders, revealing more and more of your bare skin to him. He took a few steps closer, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes slowly roamed over your bare shoulders, admiring your slender arms.
“Keep going, darling.”
His voice sent a shiver through your spine.
“Whatever you desire my lord.”
You whispered breathlessly as you pushed the fabric down your torso, exposing your chest to the wall and your back to Cregan.
Cregan's breath hitched in his throat as he watched you slowly unveil your body to him, his eyes roaming over your bare back and your slender torso, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was clenching his fists.
“That's it, darling. Keep going.”
He was so close behind you now, he could reach out and touch your bare skin if he wanted to, and he desperately wanted to. He wanted to run his hands all over her body, feel your soft skin beneath his rough hands.
The slender fingers paused, deciding wether you should expose yourself towards your new husband. It is duty to do anything he pleases. So you decided against your better judgement and pushed the dress down, going over the curve of your ass and down your plush thighs. The dress pooled at your feet as you stepped out of it, your hands gripping the bath before going to step inside.
Cregan stood there in a daze, his eyes slowly raking over your almost fully naked form. Why would we was even more beautiful than you imagined, your body more exquisite than he could ever have imagined. He was at a loss for words, his mind was completely blown by the sight of your bare torso and thighs. He took a step closer, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your soft flesh under his palms.
He snapped out of his daze when you moved to step into the tub. He quickly reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting into the water.
Your eyebrows furrow as your head snaps towards his wrist and then go his face,
“My Lord, is something wrong? Did you want to bathe instead?”
He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes drifting back down to your body, taking in your slender frame and your bare thighs. He swallowed hard, his pulse quickening as he continued speaking.
"No, darling. I want you to get in the water, but I have another request."
He took a step closer, his body now pressed up against your back. You placed hip hands on hips, his fingers gently gripping your bare skin.
Your voice comes out warm and soft as you reply to him,
“And what request would that be my Lord?”
He smiled at your response, relishing the feeling of your body pressed up against his. He moved one of his hands down to yor belly, slowly rubbing his fingers over her skin.
“I want you to let me wash you, darling.”
He leaned down and nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke again.
“Every inch of you.”
“Whatever you desire, i will fulfill my lord. And if that’s to wash every, single inch of my body as i bathe, then I will allow it. But you’re looking quite dirt ridden too my lord, perhaps you want to bathe after me.. or with me.”
You do admit, it was brave of you to say this but if you were going to make this man happy, you guess being in his chambers might be the right place to start.
Cregan chuckled and hummed against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He loved the sound of you submitting yourself to him, your words, as bold as they were, made his chest surge with satisfaction.
“Oh, darling, are you suggesting that I undress and take a bath with you?”
He nibbled at your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin as he spoke again,
“I like that idea, darling. I like it a lot.”
“If you truly like it then you’ll join me my lord”
You step into the water before Cregan can stop you, turning to face him, your breasts exposed to him before you sink into the water and stare at him, waiting for him to join you.
Cregan cursed under his breath as you stepped into the water, you body sinking down and disappearing underneath the water, only your head remaining above. He stared down at you, his eyes raking over her bare neck and your shoulders, his gaze moving lower and lower down to your covered chest.
He swore again, muttering something incoherent as he began pulling his tunic over his head, tossing it on the floor without a care. He quickly began undressing, stripping off each piece of clothing until he was bare chested, his pants still on.
“I thought you wanted to join me my Lord, but you’re still not bare?”
You teased him as you shuffled with anticipation in the water.
He chuckled, his hands moving down to his pants as he slowly began pulling them down, taking his time as he continued looking at you in the tub, the water covering her body up to your collarbones.
“Be patient, darling. I don't like to do things quickly.”
He pushed the pants down and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side and standing there in front of you, completely naked and unabashed. He smirked as he saw your eyes roam over his body.
“I see why the girls fawn over you my Lord, should I consider them my enemies?”
He chuckled and stepped into the water, hissing as the warm water enveloped his body, the steam slowly rising and filling the air.
“Hm, is that so? And what makes you say that, darling?”
He moved closer and grabbed onto your hips, pulling your towards him until your body was flush against his, your back now against his chest.
“Well for one I’ve heard your not shy of training without your shirt on, in fact I’ve heard you prefer it. I’m sure the local girls must be falling at your feet because of your stocky, protective build and your defined features.”
Your hand reaches up from the water to reach behind you and stroke his face.
He hummed in agreement as he felt your hand on his face, your fingers gently tracing along the lines of his jaw. He chuckled at your words, a proud smirk slowly forming on his face.
“I like to keep my body in prime condition, darling. And yes, it does help when I have lovely ladies watching me train, drooling over my body.”
He smirked even more as he spoke, feeling your body pressed up against his. He could feel the way your curves molded perfectly against his chest and abdomen.
“Cregan..”
Using his name was natural even though it was the first time you had used his name in his presence.
Hearing his name come out of your mouth for the second time caused his chest to tighten, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your sweet voice saying it.
“Hmm, that's better darling. Say my name again.”
He let go of your chin and instead moved his hand to your hair, gently cupping the back of your head and running his fingers through the soft locks.
“There are no other women who I am interested in. There is only you, my wife.”
You look at his lips, seemingly entranced by them.
“Only me?”
You look up at him.
“You are yet to prove this my Lord.”
He smirks, his eyes narrowing as he picks up on the hint of teasing in your tone. He moves his hand down to rest on your lower stomach, pulling you even closer until there was hardly a breath of space between your bodies.
“Is that so?”
He says, his voice low and seductive.
“And what do you expect from me, darling? How do you want me to prove it?”
“You haven’t even bathed your wife yet dear husband, you promised.”
His smirk widens, his eyes darkening with lust and desire as he heard your reminder. He reached over and grabbed the soft cloth from the edge of the tub, and began rubbing it over your skin, the steam from the water making the air feel thick and heavy between you.
“You're right, darling. I promised to wash you, and that's what I plan to do.”
He began running the cloth over your shoulders and back, his touch gentle but firm as he cleaned every inch of your skin.
You leaned your head back against his shoulder and let out a sigh, feeling his hands explore your body.
He continued running the cloth over your skin, his hands moving slowly and deliberately as he cleaned you. His eyes roved over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin as he bathed you.
“You're so beautiful, darling.”
He whispered, his mouth close to your ear as he spoke. His voice was low and husky, filled with a mixture of desire and reverence. He couldn't help but let his hands wander, tracing over your curves and caressing your soft skin.
“I think you’re missing a spot husband.”
He chuckled and playfully nipped at your ear, his hands pausing their slow movements as he hummed against your skin.
“Is that so? Which spot am I missing darling?”
You grabbed his hand and dragged it up your body, up your torso and landing on your chest, letting him fondle your tits as you bite your lip.
He chuckled lowly, his fingers gently caressing your soft flesh as he teased your sensitive nipples.
“Is this the spot you wanted me to wash darling?”
He whispered into your ear, his voice rough and sultry as he spoke. His touch was firm but gentle, his hands slowly moving over your mounds as he washed you.
“Mhmm..”
You moaned out through your lips, your teeth still biting your bottom lip as you whine and whimper.
“You’re very good with your hands Cregan.”
He hummed in agreement, his hands continuing to move over your body, gently massaging your soft flesh as he washed you. He liked the way you were responding to his touch, the way your body was shivering and trembling under his hands as he touched you.
“I'm glad you think so, darling. I enjoy using my hands, especially on you.”
He spoke softly into your ear, his lips skimming over the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulders as he washed you.
You turn your head to face him as you shuffle your hips.
He could feel your hips moving against his as you shifted, and it sent a jolt of heat through his body. He pulled you even closer, his chest pressing against your back as he continued to wash you, his movements growing more deliberate and intimate.
“Darling, you're being a tease.”
He whispered, his voice low and rough as he spoke into your ear. His hands were moving lower now, slowly trailing down your stomach and over your hips.
“You’re contradicting yourself dear husband. Your hands are teasing my body while your words and teasing my mind.”
He chuckled lowly and nipped at your ear again, his hands continuing to roam over your body, exploring every inch of your soft flesh. He could feel your trembling and shivering under his touch, the fire between you growing hotter and hotter.
“Maybe I do it on purpose, darling. I like seeing you squirm and whimper, begging for me to touch you.”
He whispered into your ear, his voice laced with a hint of darkness and dominance.
You squirm on his lap, staring I to his eyes.
“Your words are like honey, my Lord. But does your mouth taste like it I wonder?”
You subconsciously open your legs and push your face a little closer to his.
He grins, his smirk growing wider at your words and the way your body is reacting to him. His eyes dart down to the space between your legs, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin as he slowly moves his hands up your thighs, stopping just short of touching you where you crave it most.
“You want to find out, darling? Is that what you want?”
He looks up and locks eyes with you, his gaze full of heat and desire as he waits for your response.
“I was my mothers most curious child for a reason.”
He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering against your soft skin as he spoke.
“You are a curious one, aren't you? Always wanting to explore and learn more.”
He moves his hands further up your thighs, his fingers skimming over your skin and closer to your core. But he stops short, his touch just shy of where you want it most.
“And are you curious to taste my lips, darling? To see if my words taste as sweet as they sound?”
“It’s my most desired question at this moment in time. But maybe you could put that hand to use while your putting your mouth to use?”
You suggested seductively. You wanted him to touch you. To circle your most sensitive part and make you writhe in his grip.
He smirked against your skin and nipped at your shoulder, his lips grazing the spot as he spoke.
“Such impatience, darling. But I suppose I can indulge you.”
He moved his hand up even higher, his fingers brushing against your core, but still not quite touching you. His thumb gently caressed your skin, teasing you, as his lips moved to your neck, slowly trailing kisses along your skin.
“If you are to indulge me dear husband, then you will kiss me and be more confident with your hands, I need your touch husband.”
He chuckled against your skin, his smile growing wider as he teased you some more with his hands.
“Is my little darling getting desperate for my touch? Wanting me to kiss her and touch her the way she wants me to?”
He moved his lips to your ear, his tongue flicking out to tease your lobe as he spoke.
“You need my touch, darling? You crave it, don't you? My mouth and hands all over you, touching you and pleasuring you.”
“If you don’t touch me soon Cregan I will get the Seven to chastise you. Please just touch me husband…”
You whimper out as you ouch your hips into his fingers.
He chuckled and pressed a kiss behind your ear, his fingers finally, finally, finding your core and gently circling the sensitive bud. His breath was hot against your skin, his breathing becoming heavier as he spoke.
“You're so impatient, my little darling. You want my touch so badly, don't you? You want me to touch you and make you feel good, don't you, darling?”
“Fuck.. yes dear.. Cregan… please kiss me…”
You manage to mumble out through your whines and gasps.
He hummed against your skin, his fingers continuing to work over your core, gently rubbing and teasing you as you whimpered and writhed in his lap.
“That's it, darling. Moan for me. Say my name.”
He shifted your body in his lap, pulling you even closer as he nipped at your neck.
You grabbed his face from your neck and lifted it up. You pulled him down and pressed his lips against yours, moaning into his mouth as he continued rubbing his calloused hands over your sensitive bud, overwhelming you.
He moaned against your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth as he kissed you passionately. His fingers continued to work over you, his touch firm and deliberate as he teased and pleasured you. He could feel you trembling and shaking in his arms, your moans and gasps sending a thrill through his body.
“You taste so good, darling. So sweet, just like I imagined.”
He mumbled against your lips, his voice rough and hoarse with desire.
His left hand continued to work on your sensitive area as his right hand caresses your breasts. You bring you right hand down to press his hand into his core and lifting your hips up into his fingers while your left hand is tangled into his thick, dark hair.
He groaned against your lips as he felt you pressing his hand against your core, the gesture driving him wild. His fingers continued to work over you, his touch growing more confident and possessive as you writhed against him. He broke the kiss and moved his mouth to your neck, his lips and tongue trailing over your skin as he spoke.
“That's it, darling. Take what you want. Use my hand, use my body.”
You whine and moan out loudly.
“Husband please.. Cregan..”
Whimpering, you lazily move your hips back and forwards, both on his hand and his crotch, making him squeeze your nipple tight and roll it in his fingers, heightening your pleasure.
“Please Cregan.. make me feel overwhelmed by your touch..”
He moans into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged puffs as he feels you grinding yourself against his hand and hip. Your whimpers and whines are driving him wild, and he can't help but grow more dominant and possessive as he hears your pleas.
“You want me to overwhelm you, darling? You want me to make you beg and squirm and whimper for me? To make you forget your own name as I touch you?”
“Please Cregan… I’m begging you..”
He grins against your skin, his voice dark and possessive as he speaks.
“You're so needy, darling. So desperate for my touch. And you're begging me already?”
He nibbles at your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin as he continues speaking,
“Do you want me to touch you more, darling? To make you feel good? To make you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure that you can't think straight?”
“Yes! Yes Cregan.. please make me fall apart on your fingers.. please..”
He groans against your skin, your words and pleas driving him wild. His fingers continue to work over you, his touch firm and confident as he does his best to overwhelm you.
“You're begging for it so nicely, darling. You want me to make you fall apart on my fingers, don't you? You want me to tease and pleasure you until you can't think of anything but my touch?”
“Mhmm”
You bite your lip as you feel yourself throbbing as he stroked you. You reached to his hands and pushed further down, needing his fingers to focus on your entrance while his thumb strokes your clit.
He chuckled and bit your ear, his voice rough and hot against your skin.
“You're so impatient, darling. So desperate for more.”
“I’m so desperate for your touch Cregan. Give me more. You said for me to use you and that’s what I’m doing.”
You guide his fingers inside you. Resting your head against his chest as you breathe out a moan.
He groans into your ear as you guide his fingers inside, his breath ragged and heavy as he feels your heat around his digits. Your words and your touch are driving him wild, making him even more possessive and dominant as he speaks.
“That's right, darling. Use me. Take what you want from me. Let me make you feel good.”
“Gods Cregan..”
You clench around him from his words, he had this affect on you, he could make you soaked with just a stare.
He grins against your neck, his words coming out in a low, possessive growl as you clench around him.
“You're so wet for me, darling. So needy and desperate for me and my touch.”
He leans down and bites your shoulder, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continues working his fingers inside you.
“You're mine, darling. All mine. Every inch of you.”
“Please Cregan… faster.. I’m so close..”
You grabbed his face and forced his forehead against yours, staring into his eyes as you roll your hips against his hand.
He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as you force your foreheads together. You’re so close, he can feel it in the way you’re moving against him, in the way your breath is coming out in short, ragged pants. His fingers move faster inside you, his touch firm and deliberate.
“Cregan.. fuck..”
You moan out, your pussy pulsing as your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forming a large O, you were so so close, you just needed that extra push to reach your peak.
He can feel you pulse around him, your body trembling with the build up of pleasure as you get closer and closer to the edge. He can see the look of ecstasy on your face, your mouth open in that perfect little 'O' as your moan and whimper for him.
“Come for me, darling. Let go and come for me.”
He whispers into your ear, his fingers moving even more quickly as he tries to push you over the edge.
“Fuck.. fuck! My Lord, I’m cumming! Fuck.. Cregan!”
With one last shout of his name your back arches off him as your legs tremble and you basically scream a moan as you come, enjoying the wave of ecstasy wash over you as you clamp your legs shut on his hand and forced his mouth onto yours, containing your moans.
He grins and kisses you passionately, swallowing your moans and screams as you cum. He can feel your body trembling and shaking in his arms, your legs clenched around his hand as you ride out the waves of pleasure. He continues to press his fingers inside you, prolonging your orgasm as he whispers praises into your ear.
“That's my good girl. Let go and let me feel you come apart like that.”
He mumbles into your ear, his voice rough and possessive as he holds you against him.
“I love you so much dear husband. So so much. Cregan, you complete me.”
You manage to breathe out after your orgasm rattles your frame.
He smiles down at you, his expression full of affection and devotion as he holds you against him. Your words fill him with a sense of pride and joy, and he feels a deep sense of love and protectiveness for you.
“I love you too, darling. You're everything to me. My world would be empty without you in it.”
He kisses the top of your head and gently pulls you to his chest, holding you close as he continues to speak.
“You're my everything. My heart, my soul, my very essence.”
———————————————
Tag list: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom
1K notes · View notes
morverenmaybewrites · 6 days ago
Text
Imagine sliding your fingers underneath Diluc’s glove, the sensation of soft leather and your nails raking against his palm. The frown he’ll give you as he first tries to pull away, then relents, curious about what you wish to do.
Imagine your surprise when you finally manage to peel it off: they are not the hands of a rich businessman. Instead, they are the hands of a swordsman: the skin is rough and dotted with callouses.
When you turn it over, the knuckles are bruised, and when you run your thumb over the broken skin, he inhales sharply.
You apologize, contrite, and ask him if it hurts.
It takes several seconds before he answers, “No.”
It sounds like a lie, and you look at his face to look for any signs of pain. Instead, you find that he is looking at the way you cradle his hand in both yours. He is transfixed, his eyes are like burning coals.
“Where,” you ask. “Did you get these? I don’t remember any fights breaking out in the tavern lately.”
This time, Diluc doesn’t answer.
You can feel it then, it changes the air around you: the suffocating silence of a secret not shared.
Finally, you speak.
“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t have to tell me.”
And you raise his hand to your lips to plant a kiss. RIght there, over the bruises.
And his expression changes. You’d seen it several times before, on adventurers who stumble into Mondstadt, after months spent in the wilderness: a hunger that borders on starvation.
Finally, Diluc pulls himself from your grasp, and he uses his newfound freedom to hold you to him, the warmth of his body chasing the chill away.
“Thank you,” he says. “Maybe someday soon. I’ll tell you.”
643 notes · View notes
enoe-of-noen · 8 months ago
Text
An Mc who is warm
It’s cold down in the Devildom, why wouldn’t those closest to Mc use them as their very own portable heater?
☞ Established relationships, lots of words
Tumblr media
Lucifer
Taking full advantage.
Steals Mc away on certain exhausting nights when the breeze is harsh. The scratching of branches raking the glass.
Loves to have you on his lap for maximum warmth.
Maybe, after he’s done with this pile, can you join him in bed?
Please take the offer. He won’t ask twice, but he really needs it.
When Mc finally agrees, after a bit of teasing, they’ll gladly snuggle in the eldest’s arms.
During the day, Lucifer makes it a point to have his hand on Mc whenever they see each other.
Whether it’s a holding theirs for a kiss, a hand on their shoulder, a hand in their hair, a hand on their cheek, etc.
Since he wears gloves, he finds it most effective to hug them briefly before leaving them to their activities.
Mammon
He’s grabsy
“My human!”
“Yoink!”
Mc is always stolen away by him at any. Given. Moment.
They’re never safe from his grasp.
Never.
Mammon’s hands are all over Mc!
In their hair, under their shirt massaging their back, on their cheeks, on their thighs, on their hips, whatever he feels like
He loves hugging Mc from behind
“Mmn, warm, warm for me.” He cooes
“Mams. I have to go.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Fym nuh uh?!”
Mc will not be leaving his grasp any time soon~
Leviathan
Wow! Humans are really warm!
“Mc, Mc! I hope this isn’t too much to ask but, can you…sit here, while I game tonight?”
Levi pointed at his lap, blushing furiously.
This is embarrassing, isn’t it?
Is it too much?
Is it too weird?!
He won’t worry too long though, it is pretty chilly tonight and Mc is down to cuddle <3
Loves feeling their hands on his cheeks, squeeze them a bit if you wanna~
Hisses softly whenever he feels their warm hands, always accompanied by a cute smile
Hides his face under Mc’s chin, having easy access to their collarbone
Prefers Mc touching him rather than him touching them most days
Lets him know he’s loved and that Mc wants to be there for him
In public, he’ll always be holding their hand
Satan
Kisses their palm whenever they go to touch his cheeks.
Feel free to use him as a chair, he absolutely loves the warmth and attention.
Pets Mc like a cat, playing with their hair.
“Just a second longer, dear,” he hums.
“You said that 30 minutes ago,” Mc grumbles, feeling stiff.
Satan laughs whenever you complain.
Doesn’t stop his arms snaking their way around your waist though.
“Good book, at least?” Mc looks at the book in Satan’s free hand.
“Very much so.” He grins.
Otherwise around in the Devildom, Satan always lends a hand for Mc to hold.
His hands get chilly easily~
Asmodeus
Y’all already know~
All over you, all the time!
I mean, who wouldn’t be down here?~
Your hands are easiest to access of course.
You have such nice hands to hold, hon~ <3
Loves it <33
Surprise hugs! Tight ones, might I add.
Humans sure are cuddly, I love it!!~
No moment together is spent apart by any means.
Hands, hair, hips, arms, cheek-to-cheek even!
You’ll never feel alone with Asmo around, that’s for sure!
Definitely gives Mammon a run for his money
Beelzebub
Best hugger around totally not biased
Loves when Mc is able to face him, that way he can feel their breath
A little reminder they’re alive
Besides, gives him easy kissing access which is also warm in temperature
Always at Mc’s side; they radiate heat in the cold, dark Devildom
Loves resting his hand on their stomach, it’s the second warmest part of their body!
Whenever they’re sitting on the couch, Beel makes it a point to get between Mc’s thighs
It is so incredibly warm
He doesn’t care that he gets stares, it’s too comfy not to do
Belphegor
His naps have transcended
He is blessed to have Mc down in the Devildom with him
Uses you more like a weighted blanket sometimes
Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles
Always slumps over Mc’s shoulder in public or when he’s too sleepy
Instant smile on his face, even if for a split second
“Belphie?”
“You’re warm.”
“…fine.”
Free head pats for being cute! That’s a win for Belphie!
His hands often travel
Maybe too much
This devious little shit
Diavolo
“Dearest Mc!”
Makes it a habit to ruffle your hair whenever he passes by.
You emit so much heat that he can feel it just by petting your scalp.
Humans are fascinating!
Whenever Mc gets to stay over at the castle, he adores resting his head on their lap.
Mc admits the slight bedhead he gets from it is adorable.
Big arms give big hugs!
Get hugged at the most unexpected moment, Mc! Hahaha!
Always catches Mc off guard (unlike with the brothers)
Barbatos
Busy man, unfortunately. Not many opportunities for him to appreciate your warmth.
However, when he does, his hands travel.
Skillfully removing his gloves desperately.
Your skin is soft under his.
“How about a massage, Mc?” He’ll offer.
Easiest way of feeling your warmth without too much creepiness.
Such a calming atmosphere.
How can one resist the temptation?
Simeon
It was difficult moving from the Celestial realm to the Devildom at first.
Until, of course, he met Mc.
Gloves on, gloves off, doesn’t matter.
Holds hands, hands in hair, hands on shoulder.
Seems to instinctively lean on Mc.
Mc found it weird but more endearing the closer they got.
Touches go both ways, Simeon giving way more access.
Surprisingly, having come somewhat recently from the Celestial realm, Mc also feels warm back.
A win-win situation!
Solomon
A little sappy to admit, but your warmth makes him feel so…human.
Reminds him of times he’d relax, longing for human interaction.
He’d gone so long without it, forgetting he was one himself.
Tears up when the thoughts get him late at night.
He’ll always have an arm wrapped around either your shoulder or waist.
Please keep close.
You give him so much just by being warm, his heart pounds.
No matter if his facade of being the all powerful wizard crumbles slightly, he’ll be human with you.
He is human with you.
Luke
Luke is clinging onto you everywhere!
Like a cute little koala
Holding onto your leg (if you’re tall enough)
Loves being carried by you (if you can), gets to snuggle real close
Holds your hand like a child being led by their parent
Reminds him of the warmth in the Celestial realm
Easily got close with you, no questions asked
Just a little bundle of joy!
Raphael
Despite not being seen around together often, Raphael makes an effort to offer his touch.
Being quite new and unfamiliar with the Devildom, he’s also unfamiliar with its coldness.
“Hello, Mc. I know this is an odd request, but may I hold your hand?”
If he absolutely needs it, he doesn’t see the problem with calling upon his heavenly spears.
Watch yourself, Mc.
Mephistopheles
Ah, Mc.
Whenever he sees you around, he enjoys the heat you radiate.
Oh, come closer. The students here are quite dangerous.
That’s a ploy.
He just wants contact. You’re very warm, you know?
Thirteen
Flamboyantly steals you away, as any great trickster would!
Never a quiet moment with her, whether it be her inventions or her rambles, you’ll love it
If not, she can take a hint
Touch, touch, touch! Blush, blush, blush! You are now her big fat crush!
Be honored, human, hahaha!
Can’t believe humans could be so warm!
A treasure to hold and keep!
Mine!
Often has to fight for it
Which is totally worth it when she wins
Tumblr media
Don’t know the last three well, so yeah. Hope you enjoy. This took way longer than it should’ve.
2K notes · View notes
gogogodzilla · 1 year ago
Text
day 23, virginity loss
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
edward cullen x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, maybe ooc!edward, slight dirty talk, human!reader kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
Edward Cullen was a man who pretended to have a strict moral code when it came to you, but the way he was ravishing you tonight was downright sinful. 
Your wedding was nothing short of extravagant, of course. The Cullens spared no expense for your union. However, all you could think about was Edward ripping your dress off of you and taking you right there and then. By the way he gripped your side tightly the entire night, you could tell your wandering thoughts were getting to him. 
Your lips quickly attached to the side of his neck as he drove to the airport and your fingertips trailed up his thigh. He grabbed your hand and nipped at your inner wrist, a silent warning to behave. 
You were on your best behavior after that, only allowing your thoughts to veer off course once or twice, just to keep Edward on his toes. 
Isle Esme was gorgeous, and you couldn’t wait to see it in the daylight. You were glad to finally be alone with Edward. As you approached the threshold of the front door, he swept you off your feet and a high-pitched squeal left you at his movements. 
“Little warning next time?” you raised a brow as he carried into the main room of the villa. He spun you around, a grin gracing his features. 
“I am nothing if not traditional,” he replied as he set you down. His hands lingered on your waist as you looked up at him. 
You pursed your lips, “That’s for sure.” 
He chuckled, before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. His cool fingers traced a delicate path across your jawline, and you shuddered against his touch. Your heartbeat quickened in your chest, and you wondered if Edward’s thoughts were racing just as fast as yours were. 
Your lips parted and his breath fanned across your cheek. He laced his fingers with yours and led you deeper into the house. It was luxurious and open, and you never wanted to leave. 
Soft lighting bathed the master bedroom, and a sudden wave of nervousness overtook you. You’d been intimate before but never like this. 
He pulled you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I promised you we’d try,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. 
You forced yourself to focus on his touch lingering on your hips and the ocean breeze drifting through the open double doors to the bedroom. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you formulated your plan in your mind. 
“Think you can wait a bit longer while I change into something more comfortable,” you questioned, pulling yourself out of his embrace. 
He grinned, “I’ve waited 104 years, a few more minutes isn’t going to kill me.” 
You grabbed one of your smaller bags and brought it into the bathroom with you. You sifted through the various sets of lingerie Alice had meticulously packed for you, looking for something that wouldn’t be impossible to put on. 
You settled on a lacy dark blue, but not navy, bralette and panties with little to no straps. Easy enough.  
Once you had the lingerie settled onto your features, you took a moment to gaze at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t deny Alice’s taste when it came to anything you wore. The lingerie fit you like a glove and looked amazing. You looked amazing. You spritzed some perfume on yourself before exiting the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind you. 
Edward turned to face you. He was still wearing the light blue button-up that he donned after the reception. The two buttons at the top were undone, which was definitely not because of you. 
His eyes raked up your body, and you struck a pose, attempting to diffuse the tension in the air. He chuckled and the next thing you knew you were lifted into his arms. His hands cupped your ass and held you steady against him. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him, deep and slow. 
With every moment, your kisses grew deeper and more desperate. Edward laid you softly onto the plush mattress, his lips still attached to yours.  
“You’re exquisite,” he breathed as he took in your features. He left featherlight kisses along your cheekbones before moving to your jawline and to your neck. His tongue grazed over the skin of your pulse point and you tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” you teased. 
“Trust me,” he assured, moving up to peck your lips, “the ideas I’m having do not involve taking your life.” 
You slid a hand across his chest and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Thinking of taking something else?” you hummed against his lips. 
“Yes,” he replied as his hands wandered down your abdomen and brushed against your clothed core. Your breath shuddered as he teased you through your underwear, stroking your clit before sliding down to dip a finger in your entrance. 
A soft whine escaped you as he pressed sloppy kisses against your neck. You bucked your hips against his hand, desperate for more. 
He hooked a finger through the waistband of your panties and with the flick of his wrist they were falling off of you. Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his deft fingers sliding through your folds. 
“So wet for me,” he praised as he circled your clit. He slowly inched a finger into your entrance, like he had multiple times before. He quickly added another finger and pumped it languidly within you, savoring the way you swallowed him whole and were begging for more. 
“Fuck me,” you whimpered as you ground your hips against the palm of his hand. “Please, Edward.” 
He removed his fingers and slipped them passed your lips, groaning as you eagerly swiped your tongue across the pads of his fingers. He fumbled for the buckle of his belt with his free hand and the smooth leather bumped against your inner thighs. You took the time to unclip your bra, allowing it to fall freely off your shoulders. You threw it elsewhere in the room, not caring where it landed. 
You gripped the side of his pants and helped him shimmy out of his slacks. His lips were back on yours faster than you could process. You were still getting used to his super speed after all this time. You reached down to palm him through his briefs, and he moaned against your lips. 
You looked up at him through your lashes as you slipped a hand past the waistband of his briefs and wrapped a hand around his cock. You pulled his length out of his briefs so you could freely stroke him. You slid your thumb over his pink-hued tip, which was the same color as his lips, spreading the precum that had begun to form. 
He bit back a gasp, his teeth sinking into his soft lips. You wanted to hear him. You knew all of those pretty little noises he could make, why was he holding back from you? 
“Please, Edward,” you begged, tugging him closer to you, “you promised.” 
He settled his hips between your thighs, one hand roaming your body while the other slid his length through your dripping folds. You arched against his touch and rested your hands on his shoulders, his soft skin under your fingertips grounding you. 
“I love you,” he murmured as he slowly pushed inside of you. A soft hiss escaped your lips as he inched inside of you. His eyes scanned your face, searching for the slightest inkling that you were uncomfortable. 
Quickly, the slight pain of him inside you morphed into pleasure. You’d never felt so full— so deeply connected with Edward. 
“You’re okay?” he asked, voice strained and pleading. Your hands shifted up to cradle his face, and you swiped a thumb over his cheek as you gave a quick nod. 
You pulled him toward you and pressed your lips against his, “I’m okay.” 
The plush skin of your thighs sunk under his grip as he started rocking into you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and nipping at the skin there. Each and every one of Edward’s thrusts is purposeful and deep, almost as if he’s trying to mark you as his own. The thought turned you on, and you clenched around him.
He propped himself up on the headboard with one arm to let his eyes rake over your form. Your tits bounced with each roll of his hips against yours, and his grip tightened on the headboard. The wood cracked and then splintered under his palm, but you didn’t care. You were making him feel good, and pride swelled in your chest. His eyebrows were pinched, his expression a mix of pleasure and thinly veiled restraint. 
“Don’t stop,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him closer. “I can take it.” 
He groaned against the crook of your neck as his thrusts quickened. The room was filled with the sounds of the squelching of your heat and the soft music Edward had put on while you got changed. His free hand trailed across your thigh and moved to draw quick, tight circles around your clit. A breathy moan left you, and the familiar heat pooled in your belly. 
He left open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. His thrusts became short and sloppy as you neared your climax, your walls fluttering around him. 
“You feel so good,” he breathed against your neck, “wanna feel you cum around me.” 
You clenched around him in a vice grip as you came, a strangled cry and his name gracing your lips. You threw your head back into the pillow below you as your orgasm washed over you. Edward whined against you as he helped you ride out your high. 
Edward’s hips faltered against your own and he quickly pulled out of you. He didn’t get very far, though, and his release coated your thighs. You whimpered as it ran down your thighs, warmer than you thought it’d be. 
You panted, attempting to catch your breath. Edward leaned down and captured your lips in his. You reached up and ran a hand through his hair, pulling him closer. 
“I love you too,” you finally whispered as you pulled away. 
His lips curved into a smile, “Was it everything you imagined?” 
“Better,” you replied, your mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. Edward met your eyes before groaning, a boyish smile gracing his features as he lay beside you. 
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
sugurouge · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
— yes, my lady : sebastian michaelis x f!reader
content warnings! reader is a descendant of the phantomhive family, power imbalance (master/servant) but also (human/demon), somewhat monsterfucking if you squint (i wanted to make use of his ‘true form’ a little), smut, size difference, manhandling, praise, pet names (my lady, darling, dear), orgasm control, sacrilege, a tiny bit of blood, topics of loneliness
summary: after another tiresome day out in the world, you are greeted with your recent mistake—sebastian. a hand-me-down from your ancestors that you summoned by chance and who now apparently has a contract with you. yet this modern world, working women, independence, and your awfully bratty attitude are challenges that are entirely new to him. however, he did swear to serve you. so, allow him to take care of his tired "mistress"
wordcount: 5k | my kinktober masterlist
Tumblr media
It’s not every day that your job becomes stressful enough to fully tire you out. But today, today was even more draining than you had anticipated. Deep red eyes watch your tired form from across the hallway, raking over your figure as the owner remains quiet. Sebastian hasn't quite understood the fulfillment behind humans working themselves to the bone, nor the desire for young women to eagerly venture out to conquer “corporate,” as you once called it.
Yet, understanding or not, he is sworn to serve you and look after you. You are in his care until the contract is completed.
For this, he steps forward, his touch as sultry and gentle as his voice that welcomes you home. “My Lady,” the demon begins, as strength returns to your figure upon the stabilising hold of his hands on the small of your back while you remove your heels. You meet his smile with a glare from your pretty eyes, still wary of your newly added decor.
“I can handle myself just fine, Sebastian.” Yes, you’re a feisty one. Sebastian has been well aware of that fact since the moment you met. You dislike men staring at you in the street, loathe the forced small talk with them at work, or having to humour one of them when all you want is to be in the safety and comfort of your home. The once safe haven you now share with some sort of butler, or so he proclaimed. Never would you have expected such an outcome from your family’s antiques.
But here you are, the independent woman from before, now with a handsome devil at your beck and call. “You appear particularly exhausted tonight. Why not let me take care of you and help you to a restful night?” Sebastian proposes with gentle calmness to your vervour as his hands return to rest behind his back.
He irritates you. His act of concern for you when all he truly cares for is your soul. The motive is clear, yet he play-pretends to be something you cannot wrap your head around. “And what could you do for me?” you challenge in return, crossing your arms in front of your chest as the tip of your nose lifts a little higher to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Anything you wish,” replies the butler, without a hint of malice in his words. “I would propose running a hot bath, brewing a warm cup of tea, and—” he pauses, clearly having caught himself with an idea you would despise.
The proposal sounds pleasing, almost exactly what you would do if you weren’t feeling too lazy to run a bath for yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Your expression remains unfaltering, almost challenging. “And what? Speak, Sebastian.” The quirk of your brow ticks Sebastian off in just the right way, your confidence and demand a challenge he secretly enjoys.
The distance between your bodies grows smaller, and a gloved hand tips your chin up as red hues draw near. “A massage for your exhausted figure, my Lady.” He drawls the title, a pinch of condescension hidden in his words. You can’t resist the idea of standing on your toes, leaning further into his space to see him shrink away as your lips almost brush Sebastian’s while you speak: “Carry me, Sebastian.”
Yet, he does not shy away. He feels your pulse quicken, hears your heart drumming a beat of bravery, while your sweet lips could offer a relief he hasn’t felt in millennia. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth upon your demand and, without hesitation, you find yourself in his embrace. Knees and shoulders pressed firmly against his body, Sebastian carries you to your bedroom.
He knows tonight won’t be easy on him. Sebastian is well aware of the mischief you try to conceal, to seem more mature than you actually are. But tonight you appear different; tonight, you bring new challenges to your rendezvous once your head finds its rest on his shoulder. The tease of your breath against his neck, your smaller fingers playing with his necktie as you wet your lips. Nothing good comes from those pretty lips, Sebastian notes.
“Sebastian?” How can you suddenly say his name so softly? He looks down to you, the crimson tinge to his eyes making him appear like a starved hunter under the faint lights of the streetlamps and mood lights in your apartment. “The water is already set and at the perfect temperature for the female body.” Of course, he had heard your footsteps from afar and decided that tonight would be perfect for a bath. He is an expert at planning, at being one step ahead of everyone else. That is, until you continue speaking. A simple command, short and to the point, too alluring: “Undress me.”
You need to try harder if you wish to get a rise from him. For now, you find yourself seated on your bathroom counter with a newly found frown adorning your face. It doesn’t suit you, but it entertains Sebastian. “Your wish is my command,” he speaks an octave lower, honey almost dripping from his words before skilled fingers smooth out the fabric of your blouse. Sebastian’s gaze does not meet yours while he unbuttons it; he stays focused on the task without lusting over your exposed skin.
Suddenly, you wish he would want to devour you. The gloved touch that teases your upper body is not enough, yet so close to the fulfilling feeling of desire that you miss.
The clothing item is pushed off your shoulders before his touch ghosts along your waist. “May I continue?” The question is accompanied by one hand held out to you, palm facing up for you to grasp and rise to your feet. In one swift move, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror as Sebastian spins you around to undo the intricate buttons of your skirt you had struggled with this morning—why must designers place them in such difficult spots?
To nobody’s surprise, they are undone as quickly as your blouse, before your silk dress follows suit and pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a tantalising set of underwear—dark red, almost a perfect match to Sebastian’s eyes. You eyes meet through the mirror and you refuse to shy away. No, like the little vixen that you are, you lean forward just enough to expose yourself further to your demon as you pretend to busy yourself by wiping off your lipstick.
It feels humbling to witness his gaze remain unfaltering; Sebastian continues to look into your eyes rather than the places you want his greed to be. “I will prepare your tea now,” he states as business continues as usual before leaving you alone.
A sigh is all you allow yourself as your shoulders slump. You really tried to seduce him. At the thought, you find a smile tugging at your mouth, the lust to be desired something that has been missing for a while now in your life. You know work, you know how to overwork yourself, and you have no time for flings or meaningless encounters. That was when he entered the picture.
Upon Sebastian’s return, he finds you seated in the bathtub; You’ve made sure to keep your hair out of the water and expose your neck, for hungry eyes to appreciate the shein layer of damp on your skin. The plate beneath the teacup meets the ceramic of your bathtub as your widened—nearly pleading—eyes shoot up to challenge his. If only you had acted a second quicker, you would have caught him staring at your cleavage, barely covered by the water and foam.
“Is there anything else you may need?” Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a greater challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word “You” could weaken a demon of his calibre is something for future Sebastian to concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: “Massage me, my butler.”
You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while coaxing the cutest sounds past your lips? How can you act this way when at night you hump your pillow and beg for more, something better? Yet in the daylight, you behave like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. One or two more slip-ups, and he might find a loophole in your contract and commands.
To your dismay, gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. “Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully.” Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of “Yes, my lady,” echoes back. Shivers elicit along your neck as his skin touches yours, and the strength behind Sebastian’s touch massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.
The moment is sweet enough to let your eyes fall closed, your head resting against Sebastian’s thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. The sound snaps Sebastian’s attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features. Even a demon can admit that some humans are indeed beautiful. Sometimes, that beauty doesn’t surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique about you that captivates Sebastian’s attention and lust.
You catch him staring as your eyes flutter open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable, with him leaning above you. “Naughty butler…” you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. “If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me.” The disrespectful teasing, as if he were nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else, someone he couldn’t wait to devour many years ago. But what else could he do but make himself useful for now?
In a swift move, Sebastian shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his buttoned shirt before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.
Until you’ve had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident as you lean into his proximity: Your fingers lace around Sebastian’s wrist like a personal handcuff, your eyes locking onto his. “Be more thorough, Sebastian. Wash away the filth.” You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine, and Sebastian watches you attentively, to witness your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He has never obeyed such a troublesome person before.
You start to bring out the worst in him—something that wants to teach you a lesson, something to remind you how different the roles could be if it weren't for this contract. The washcloth is pushed over your breasts and dips beneath the surface of the water to run along your stomach before being abandoned entirely as Sebastian’s fingers dip into the supple flesh of your thighs. Blunt nails drag along your inner thighs, and he loves to watch the shift in your demeanour; how you grow shy beneath his touch, your stare faltering as he draws dangerously close to your sacred area.
There is no bite to your bark as you cry out his name, your need for him too evident while you try to maintain a pretence. "S-Sebastian!" Finally, you act as your thighs press shut around his hand, panic ever so evident in your pretty eyes he can't stop the devilish smirk from spreading across his features. "My dear, don’t tell me you expect to play with fire and come out unharmed…"
The next moment, your back meets the cold stone as Sebastian races forward, hands placed left and right from your figure on the edge of the bathtub. The impact forces a puff of air to escape your lips as your eyes snap up to meet your butler’s dark pair, searching for a trace of humanity in those pools of crimson. "Behave…" you attempt to regain control, which is met with a chuckle. "I only follow your commands," he challenges as the cloth returns to clean your body. "You wanted me to be thorough, let me be thorough."
However, the lips that crash against the racing pulse in your neck have nothing to do with the command of cleaning your body. Sebastian acts upon his own selfish accord, upon the lust you’ve ignited by teetering too close to the dangerous territories of demonic desires.
And he makes you feel too good as he ravages you, suckling and nipping at your skin until you can't help but moan, your head falling back to offer him more space. You can't even think of a fitting command, the sweet words for him to "Don’t stop, please," a much more natural reaction as his palms cup your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you whimper ever so prettily.
"Who would have thought you could turn into such a sweet darling?" Sebastian teases with whispered words against the shell of your ear, the hum that follows so deep and low it has your stomach fluttering. Your fingers lace between his dark strands, effectively holding him in place as you return to being face-to-face with Sebastian. Shamelessly, you allow yourself to rake your eyes over his sharp features. You've never wanted anything more than him. But the thought evaporates upon the sharp sensation of nails against your waistline and hips, upon the pair of fingers pushing between your folds before rubbing against your clit.
Oh? How willingly you part your legs now, Sebastian muses.
"Is this thorough enough, my lady?" he mocks as his fingertips press against the opening of your pussy, your eager hole giving way slightly as he pushes past. He knows what he’s doing to you. He sees it in the crease of your brow, feels it as your hips buck against his touch. "More, Sebastian, I need more tonight." Like the greedy thing you are, you take it upon yourself to play with your breasts, yet the silent plea in your eyes tells your butler all you want is for him to take care of you.
“Oh dear,” he whispers gently, but smiles victoriously as your moans tumble from your trembling lips when two of his fingers push inside you. "Do you give yourself to me? Allow me full reign, hm?"
The idea sounds great, perfect, until you manage to flutter your heavy eyes open and see the devious apparition in front of you. Sebastian’s eyes are more slanted, set ablaze, deep pink hues now replacing his usual red, with lust overflowing past his thick lashes as pointed teeth hide behind his full lips. Giving yourself to a demon doesn’t seem like the best idea, but the fingers stimulating your gummy spot have you nodding regardless. How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances.
“Darling, tell me,” Sebastian urges as his thrusts become harsher, uncaring for the water or your comfort as your tits bounce and your walls clamp so promisingly. “N-no, no, Sebastian! Just, ah—” you falter as you try your best to stay present, to keep control over this demon while he fingerfucks you. “Think, speak, quickly, little Lady,” he further pressures you. What he wouldn’t give to do with your body whatever he wants. “Just-, just tonight! Sebastian—” the way you moan his name makes you a sinner itself, it should send you to all seven hells as the echoes ring inside his mind. “Look after me, tonight,” you finally manage to cry out as your walls pull in desperate need. “Make me feel good,” your final demand.
But instead of sweet release, you feel the disappointing emptiness as he retracts his fingers, leaving you a heaving mess in your bathtub—only now do you notice how cold the water has turned. “You can ask more nicely than that, my dear.” There is little consideration to be spared for the length of your bath once a strong arm wraps around your waist. Sebastian wastes no time in having you seated on his lap, your wet form drenching his clothing as he spreads your legs over his thighs and presses you flush against his chest. “I will look after you until the day you die,” he whispers into your ear, and maybe if the words weren’t so true and less intimidating, you could consider them romantic.
You notice that Sebastian’s form has returned to fully human, with almost tender eyes meeting yours this time around, turning your desire mellow and seasoned with sweetness. “Kiss me, please.”
He follows suit as your lips crash together a moment later, his palms stabilising your back in his hold. “More…” you breathe. Your fingers reach out to guide one of his hands on your back, between the valley of your tits, down your stomach, until you ultimately buck your hips against his, seeking further friction in desperate need. He tightens his hold on your body, tugging gently at your frame as he leans forward to suck on your wet skin, leaving marks in his wake. A small grin tugs at his lips as a soft whimper escapes you. “What’s wrong?” The whispered question makes goosebumps spread over your skin as the chill of his breath battles with the warmth of your bathroom.
“Want to be ruined by you.” The words that fall past your lips seal your fate. “Please, make me feel good, Sebastian.” You sound so desperate, only a fool would resist. “Taint me,” you shamelessly sigh against his ear, “Let me feel you.”
“Taint you…” he murmurs, halting his movements momentarily to witness you grow impatient before one of his arms holds a firm grip around your waist, restricting your movements as you’re now fully pressed against his chest. “How much more does my little Lady want to be tainted?” His free hand ghosts along your puffy lips, your slick making the drag too easy, too appealing to not draw circles into your clit, only pulling back any time he feels you squirm on his lap. Your little cries are music to Sebastian’s ears. It’s so good, too good, the way his fingers move, almost as if he already knows all your weak spots. “Do you wish to experience bliss only I could give you, and ruin yourself for all eternity?” His questions urge you to wrap your arms around him, to hide your face in the gentle embrace of a monster, as though you’re trying to hide from judgement itself upon your immoral fantasies. “I wish for that, Sebastian.”
No further words are needed, not when your lips convey more as they meet Sebastian's. A kiss so fierce, he may steal the air from your lungs and drag you to hell himself. Teeth pull at your bottom lip unapologetically, his tongue meeting with your own, entwining with another until you taste him. Meanwhile, the familiar stretch of his fingers, accompanied by the filthy squelching of your arousal, threatens to overload your senses. The teasing returns as your lips part to allow Sebastian a front row seat to your desperate play, as his thumb presses into your clit. You really yearn for this orgasm, don’t you? Of course, you do, with how tightly you clench around his digits, pulsing as though you’re trying to keep him inside—as if he couldn’t offer you a much better alternative.
“Let go, my dear, you look so beautiful right now, I want to see you come undone for me.” Sebastian encourages, as his fingers expertly curl against your walls, each time pushing past the limits of what you’re able to take. So you let go, finally, allowing your eyes to shut as your fingers fist the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s never received praise in a prayer-like form, the sighing thank-yous tumbling free between your moans, so unlike the feisty thing you pretend to be. You are adorable. “Very good, my darling, just like that.” Sebastian whispers, as the movements slow down until his fingers still inside you, until the heaving of your chest and the trembling of your thighs calms, and you fall into his embrace.
But much to Sebastian's surprise, and despite his predictions about your exhaustion, you return his previous affections. Your lips kiss along his neck as you undo his necktie, fingertips already so eager to free him from the confines of his clothes, it makes Sebastian wonder who the real glutton between you two is. “My Lady,” he innocently halts your advances as he entwines his fingers with your own, kissing each tip while holding eye contact. “Shouldn’t we proceed to your chambers? I don’t wish to bring needless discomfort upon you—you need your strength to handle me.” At that, you feel his tongue drag along your pointer finger before a final kiss is placed on its tip, while a devious smile returns to Sebastian’s lips. If only you wouldn’t look so adorable each time he teases you. But you are already too far gone to keep up pretences, when you can instead allow someone else to finally be your resolve.
So it's only natural for you to command Sebastian once more. “Bring me to my bed,” you mumble while your arms already lace around his neck. He follows.
Yet it catches you by surprise once you’re simply dropped into your bouncy mattress and sea of pillows. However, in the next moment, you find yourself caged underneath Sebastian. Your hands roam free to undo his dress shirt and shrug it off his figure, allowing your nails to drag over his pearly skin until you reach his pants and finally feel what lies hidden behind the dark fabrics.
You seem in control, until firm hands spread your thighs and Sebastian leans in, to nibble along your inner legs, shining in the moonlight as he dives between your thighs to lap at your cunt, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of your entrance before dragging all over your hot and puffy pussy. He then licks and kisses his way up your stomach, sternum, and nipples, while the surprising satisfaction of his cock—hot, hard, and leaking with pre-cum—coats itself with your juices. He grinds against you until you writhe for more, until his hands find rest on the back of your knees so he can press your legs up against your sides, fully opening you to thrust into you without struggle, without restraint, as lust overcomes him.
You shake your head at the stretch of his girth welcoming your pussy, sweet pleas mixed with whiny complaints escaping your lips without much thought. “‘S too much, Sebastian… can’t…” you admit. The chuckle that follows is devious, before a soft sigh in satisfaction follows as tender lips place an adoring kiss to your cheek. “You will,” Sebastian whispers, followed by the command “Now just surrender to me.” His lips seek out your own once more as he picks up a relentless pace.
Your nails dig into his back, leaving red streaks that run deep. You can’t look at anything but him—his strong body on top of yours, the visible strain to his muscles while he ruts into you—until you find yourself once more captivated by his eyes. He almost looks at you lovingly, no hungrily. But Sebastian doesn't just want to consume your soul; no, his desires reach beyond basic greed. He wants to own you, to keep you to himself, to reign over you until your best years are over. You can see it clearly while swimming in crimson. But with the delicious drag of his cock inside your walls, you might just let him. Who would have expected you to be tamed this well by getting fucked?
“Please, please, please,” you exhale as your head lolls from side to side, writhing beneath your very own demon. Oh? You’re quick to beg. Quick to turn desperate, so eager to have more of something that should never have been yours. “Sebastian, Sebastian,” you repeat like a mantra as his hands hold your fragile body, digging into your hips to force you into a perfect arch for Sebastian to ravage your skin. He litters kisses over your chest, laps at your nipples, and drags your hips back down to snap against his while he is guided by gluttony.
“Give yourself to me,” you demand with no trace of shame in your bones, finally giving him a task worthy of your beautiful soul. “Stay with me, be mine…”
You almost feel dizzy with how easily Sebastian hoists you up until you’re on all fours, ass perfectly exposed for him to fully sheath his cock inside you, effectively pushing your upper body into your sea of pillows. But in stark contrast to his rather harsh handling of your body, his lips return to press soft kisses along your back. “I am yours if you are mine, my darling.” The words flow like honey before your blood coats Sebastian’s tongue as he breaks the skin, engraving himself on your skin.
Your fingers dig into the cushions, searching for support as you struggle. But the strong arm lacing around your body is all the comfort you will need from now on; his cold touch will soon set you ablaze.
Sebastian is deep inside you, the head of his cock finding your sweet spot almost naturally as he perfectly curves against your velvet walls, hips snapping against your ass with unforeseen fervour. His hands dig into your hips, surely bruising your hip bones for the coming days, but you’ve never felt this good before. Never so full, never as cared for as by the monster that is in love with your soul. You moan his name in delight, making Sebastian proud once you eagerly bounce back into his thrusts.
The husky sounds of pleasure grow clearer as his movements slow down. You feel yourself being further pushed against the mattress, to spread your legs wider and arch deeper, for his penetration to slowly steal your sanity. Who would have expected the pressure of his palm against your stomach would make you clamp around him this much? Moaning, whimpering, pleading as you beg for mercy, trying to tell him it’s too… “Too good, Sebastian, I’m—”
His movements are slow but precise, accentuating the way you desperately clamp around him in an attempt to hold him inside you for eternity. “Yes, fall apart. Let go for me,” Sebastian’s eyes roam over your smaller body beneath him—a sweaty, shaking mess. He will take care of that right after you are done. For now, instead of worrying, his hands grab at your ass almost aggressively, spreading your lower lips even further as he ruts into you.
The high-pitched squeal that escapes your throat when he picks up his pace again serves as a perfect display of your misery. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes as your hips are pushed back to meet Sebastian’s relentless thrusts. “Make me proud, little Lady...” his final demand, with sneaky fingers returning to play with your clit as he hoists you off the bed, holding you tightly against his chest.
You’re fully seated on his cock, entirely engulfed by his embrace and consumed by the demon, just as you bask in the sweet release coursing through your veins. Sebastian allows himself to be lost in your pretty cries and the way your pussy practically drips from both of your orgasms. True to his nature, he watches you like a devil on your shoulder; dark red eyes witnessing your fucked-out expression while the cutest smile illuminates your features.
His lips caress your neck as he whispers, “Do you feel better now?” You hum and let your fingers card through his hair, a tired “I do. Thank you, Sebastian” exchanged from your mouth to his ear.
Swiftly, Sebastian moves to carry you back to your spacious bathtub and lets it refill with warmth. “How about my Lady actually relaxes this time around?”
Tumblr media
dividers by @/cafekitsune
657 notes · View notes
bosbas · 12 days ago
Text
Chapter 3: it was all by design
series masterlist previous part || next part
Tumblr media
pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 1.7k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, morally grey daphne ??, slow burn!!!, anthony being a SIMPPPP (i love it)
Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
Tumblr media
June 2, 1812 - As you walked into Lady Danbury's ballroom, your hands were gripping the skirt of your dress to keep them from trembling. Tonight was the night you were going to ask Anthony to court you. You were asking him. It was an absurd concept at best, a lady asking a gentleman to court. But you'd already come this far, asking him to dance and all, so you supposed it wasn't that large of a jump from one thing to the next.
It wasn't real, you kept reminding yourself. It was just a way to give Daphne the season she deserved. And Anthony had absolutely no interest in marriage anyway, so he would surely not particularly mind when you ended things with him.
Besides, you were fairly certain he only saw you as a sister, much like Daphne, so it was doubtful he’d even be amenable to the prospect of starting a courtship with you. It was taking a lot of mental work to convince yourself that this would be fine.
But at the end of the day, you had your own reputation to think about. As much as you enjoyed spending time with Anthony at high society balls, you knew it wasn't the best for your image if you were constantly seen dancing with a man who wasn't courting you. Someone was bound to think that something was wrong with you. Several people had asked you already, actually.
So, you smoothed your skirts and steeled your nerves. This was the best option for Daphne. And for you if you wanted to keep spending as much time with Anthony as you were now.
Looking around the ballroom, your eyes met the eldest Bridgerton's.
His eyes immediately lit up, blinking as he took in your impressive ballgown and elbow-length gloves. Quickly, he started walking toward you, practically tripping over Cressida Cowper's train because he was in such a rush.
“Good evening, Lady L/N,” he bowed, putting on the stuffy voice you’d heard him use with his mother’s friends.
“Good evening, Viscount,” you responded, playing along with him.
He flashed you the most charming smile you had ever seen, and you understood completely why the ladies of the ton swooned over him. If you had his charisma and good looks, you’d probably be a rake, too.
“Fancy a dance tonight?” he asked casually, his hand reaching out to softly touch your dance-card-clad wrist.
“I suppose I do,” you responded, flashing him a vibrant smile. The nerves you had felt a few minutes ago had practically evaporated, leaving only room for excitement as Anthony interwove his fingers with yours and led you to the dance floor.
A few minutes after the dance had begun, you caught a glimpse of Daphne and Mr Norwood looking completely smitten with one another. It quickly reminded you of your goal for the night. If Daphne was going to marry Mr Norwood then you needed to bite the bullet and get this over with right now.
As you were staring intently at your best friend and the man she wanted to marry, your brow furrowed and lips pursed, you felt Anthony's warm breath close to your ear.
“What’s on your mind?” he whispered softly, sensing your mind was elsewhere.
Having spent so much time with you in the past few weeks, Anthony had grown accustomed to your quirks and knew that you weren’t being your usual self.
You froze. It was now or never.
“Um… Well… I was just thinking about how our dancing every night looks. To other people I mean. Given that we’re not courting,” you babbled, unable to meet the eyes of the man in front of you.
Confused, Anthony continued, “Is this about what I said the other night? About only being able to dance so many times?”
“No, not at all,” you reassured him. If you two did end up courting, you didn’t ever want him to think he was at fault. “Just some comments I’ve heard from ladies around the ton, you know how they are. They ask me questions I don’t particularly know the answer to,” you said dismissively.
“And you’re worried about how this will affect you in the future, as an unmarried lady?”
“Well… yes,” you responded lamely. Although everything you had said up to this point was true, you were still unable to meet his eyes, the guilt of deceiving him eating away at you.
Anthony knit his eyebrows together in confusion. Hadn’t you physically recoiled at the thought of courting him just a few days ago when he said it as a joke?
Regardless, he mulled over what you had said. He knew you fairly well, and even though you weren’t usually bothered by a bit of gossip (you were spending time with him even though he was the world’s biggest rake, for heaven’s sake), he understood your hesitation.
“Does this mean you want me to properly court you?” he asked gently, not wanting to scare you off again.
Perhaps it was the sincerity in Anthony’s voice, or just you realizing the gravity of the situation, but you immediately tensed up.
“No, I don’t think so,” you started slowly, torn between helping Daphne and protecting yourself. But you had already made your choice. You loved your best friend, but not to the point of breaking all social decorum and asking a man to court you. “Not at all,” you laughed airily. “I know you’re not looking to marry, and honestly neither am I. It was just a silly comment, my apologies.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed.
You cursed Daphne’s brother for being so perceptive. How on earth could he tell exactly what you were feeling?
“I don’t know,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. God, this would be so much easier if you had feelings for him and wanted to court him. Then you could just say yes and stop feeling so guilty.
Seeing how torn you were, Anthony decided to let the subject lie. The season was still only beginning, and there would be yet time to figure out what exactly was going on between you.
However, letting the subject lie decidedly did not mean that he would stop thinking about it. In fact, it was the only thing he thought about for the rest of the night, completely missing an almost inappropriate kiss Mr Norwood left on Daphne’s hand.
--- 
Anthony hadn’t stopped thinking about the possibility of properly courting you the following morning. He sat in his sunroom, rereading the same paragraph for the sixth time as he tried to focus on anything other than your anxiety-filled eyes the previous night. 
“Y/N was looking rather lovely last night,” commented Daphne offhandedly as she worked on her needlepoint. 
“What?” said Anthony, startled out of his thoughts. He’d completely forgotten his sister was in the room with him, too. 
“Y/N, last night, looking lovely,” repeated Daphne, covertly looking at her brother as he remembered what you were wearing at Lady Danbury’s ball. 
“Err… I suppose she did look rather fetching, yes,” he responded awkwardly, shuffling the newspaper on his lap to another page. 
Then, looking at his sister suspiciously, he added, “But I wasn’t looking to get married this year, Daphne.”
You had told her about how you’d been unable to ask Anthony to court, of course. You had apologized profusely, but Daphne would hear none of it. Reassuring you that it was no problem, really, and that she understood your hesitation completely, Daphne had decided to shift her focus to her brother. It was true, a woman asking a man to dance was completely taboo, and it probably wouldn’t even have worked. So, although you hadn’t outright asked Anthony to court, you had certainly gotten the closest to it that a woman in polite society could. Now all he needed was a little push. 
“Neither was Y/N, to my understanding,” she responded, keeping her tone light and her eyes on her thread and needle. 
“It doesn’t matter,” Anthony waved dismissively. “She’s said it herself, I’m the biggest rake in Mayfair. Getting involved in her would only hurt her image in the long run.”
“Don’t be daft,” laughed Daphne. “You’re a Bridgerton. Rake or not, I doubt any association with you would taint her image in the slightest. She’s been involved with us for years! She’s my best friend, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Anthony humphed, annoyed that his little sister was making sense. Stubbornly, he continued, “Exactly, it’s not a good idea to bring feelings into a courtship, anyway. She’s been a friend of the family for ages.”
Daphne shrugged, slowly becoming more supportive of her best friend courting her brother, whether it was under false pretenses or not. “I certainly wouldn’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
After a pause, she added, “And how do you know the feelings are there? That’s what a courtship is for, isn’t it?” 
She was in quite a similar situation herself, though she could never tell Anthony lest he completely lose his mind. 
Daphne looked up at her brother, almost seeing the gears in his mind turning. 
“Do you really think I should?” he asked, setting down the newspaper beside him. 
“If you want,” she responded flippantly, knowing Anthony had already made up his mind. 
“Oh my word, it’s almost afternoon!” exclaimed Anthony, looking at the grandfather clock on the other side of the sunroom. “I should go now, I suppose. What if someone else has already come to call on her? Am I too late?”
Daphne, highly amused at her brother’s sudden sense of urgency, laughed. “Only one way to find out…” 
But Anthony didn’t hear her response, already rushing out of the room to grab his coat so he could go call on you. Properly. Like a gentleman. For the first time. 
And funnily enough, Anthony felt no fear, no anxiety, no dread. Nothing that he usually felt when thinking about courtship and marriage. He was simply excited to see you.
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
285 notes · View notes
punkshort · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Love at First Sight
A drabble from A Deeper Purpose/A Deeper Meaning universe, takes place between the two.
A/N: Dedicated to @brigcally - wishing you a flawless delivery ❤️
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: Joel helps you through your delivery.
Warnings: child birth, descriptions of pain/fear, anxiety, blood (only a little), language, fluff, allusion to prior smut but nothing explicit, breastfeeding
WC: 2.6K
It was a beautiful day.
The morning was crisp, the afternoon warm, but not stifling. For once, Joel didn't finish his patrol shift feeling like he had to bathe for an hour after to scrub off the layers of sweat and grime.
He was feeling good. His back didn't hurt so much that day and he was in a remarkable mood. It probably had something to do with the night before. The last trimester of your pregnancy had made you absolutely insatiable for him and he was more than happy to oblige. That even included nights like the previous night when you woke him up with your hand already snaked down his pants and your lips leaving feverish kisses all over his bare chest.
It was a shock he wasn't more tired.
But it turned out that was a bigger blessing than he originally thought because he was about to have one of the longest days of his life.
The moment he entered the gates and slid down from his horse, reins in hand as he began to lead his mare into the stable, Tommy came racing up to him from down the street with a frantic look in his eye.
Joel's heart plummeted and he dropped the reins, horse long forgotten.
"Is she okay?" he asked, pulling his gloves off and tossing them on the ground before breaking out into a sprint towards his house.
Tommy skid to a stop so he could change directions, jogging after him.
"Yeah, she's fine," Tommy called, causing Joel to slow down, but only just a little. "She's at the clinic, doc says she's in labor-"
"Tommy, what the fuck?" Joel yelled as he resumed his running.
"She's fine!" Tommy yelled after him with a dry laugh. "She's hours away from anythin', only a little dilated, slow the hell down!"
But of course, he didn't. You needed him.
He ran the entire way to the clinic, bursting through the door, gasping for air with his head swiveling this way and that, looking for any sign of you. One of the nurses looked up from her desk and stood.
"Joel, she's fine," she began to say calmly, but Joel just shook his head, chest heaving and shaky finger pointing to the back room.
"Where?"
The nurse led him to the room where you were laying in bed with a book, as if nothing were happening whatsoever.
"W-what's goin' on?" Joel stammered, looking around the room as if he were missing something. You looked up from your book and smiled.
"You're back early."
Joel huffed and shrugged his coat off. "Tommy said you're in labor. The hell's goin' on? Where's the doc?"
"I'm only three centimeters," you said, picking your book back up and flipping the page. "It's gonna be a while."
Joel just stood there, heart still thundering in his chest as he struggled to shift out of panic mode. He had expected to come into the room where you were screaming and crying in pain, scared and wondering where he was, but everything seemed perfectly... normal.
Slowly, he sunk down into the chair next to your bed and raked his fingers through his hair.
"Scared the shit outta me," he muttered. "Do you need anythin'?"
You shook your head, still focused on your book. "Nope. I'm all good."
He sat there, completely bewildered and desperate for something to do to help.
"Water?"
You held up the bottle you had tucked at your side and shook your head.
"Pillows?"
You grinned. "Three's plenty."
He couldn't just sit there. He had to make himself useful and burn off some of that nervous energy. So he began to pace around the room, squinting at the tiny printer next to your bed that tracked the baby's heart rate and your contractions, as if he understood what he was reading. Then he peered out into the hallway, looking for any sign from the medical staff.
"Where's the doc?" he asked again after about twenty fitful minutes. "Shouldn't he be checkin' on you? I'll go find him."
"Joel!" you exclaimed with a laugh. He turned around, expression so worried that it melted your heart on the spot. "Joel, come sit down. I don't need the doctor right now."
His fingers fidgeted at his side when he glanced between you and the open door as if he were deciding which way to go, then eventually caved and went back to your side.
"I gotta do somethin'," he explained, sitting back down and taking your outstretched hand.
"I think you did enough," you joked, pointing at your rounded belly. He gave you an obligatory laugh but his nerves wouldn't settle for the life of him. "We're going to be here for a long time. There's no use getting worked up about it, okay?" you said softly, thumb stroking his rough knuckles.
He glanced down at the floor for a moment, then took a deep breath before replying. "With Sarah, it happened so fast," he told you. You remained perfectly quiet while he spoke. He didn't like to talk about Sarah much and you never pressured him, but whenever he brought her up, you always hung on his every word. "Her mom - her water broke in the middle of the night and by mornin', I was holdin' Sarah in my arms. I guess I just thought..." he trailed off and sniffed a bit, gaze still pinned to the floor.
"Everyone's experience is different," you told him gently when it became apparent he was done talking. "Sometimes it happens fast, sometimes it takes days."
"Days?" he repeated, looking up at you with surprise.
"Yeah, let's hope that's not going to happen to me because you'll really have your work cut out for you, Miller."
He laughed, and that time you could tell it was his real laugh. He was finally beginning to relax.
"How are you so calm 'bout this, darlin'?" he asked, sitting back in his chair to look at you with admiration in his eyes.
"Because I'm so happy, Joel," you told him simply with a little shrug. "And I know no matter what, as long as I have you and our baby, it'll all work out."
His eyes grew misty and he quickly slid his gaze elsewhere, but you caught it and smiled.
"Well," he finally said, clearing his throat. "You need anythin' at all, you just gotta ask, alright?"
You nodded, pleased that he was finally settling down, then went to pick up your book. When you reached forward, you hissed and grabbed your stomach, a sudden searing pain ripping across your lower belly and spreading down your spine.
"Fuck!" you seethed. Joel was on his feet in an instant.
"What is it?"
"Contraction," you gritted out, grabbing onto his hand to hold on to something while you rode out the pain. Joel's face instantly filled with worry again.
"Lemme get the doc, maybe he can give you somethin'."
"No!" you shouted, then took a deep, shuddering breath before relaxing back into your pillows. "No," you whispered as your grip on his hand loosened. "Oh, wow," you breathed, exhaling slowly as the pain faded away. "That was a lot more intense than the other ones."
"Alright, there's stuff the doc can give you -"
"What do you think he's got, Joel?" you asked him. "It's the end of the damn world, there's no pain management he can give me that won't hurt the baby."
Joel propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight anxiously as he tried to think of a solution.
"What 'bout a hot water bottle?"
You considered it for a moment before nodding.
"I'll ask the doctor if I can use it on my stomach but at the very least it'll help my goddamn tailbone."
Joel clapped his hands together once and quickly ran out of the room, thrilled to finally have something he could do to help. He was gone fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. When he stepped back into your room, rubber water bottle sloshing under his arm, you were in the midst of another contraction, and this time the doctor was at your side studying the monitor next to your bed while you cried and writhed around in pain.
"Shit! Baby, I'm sorry," Joel said, rushing to your side to grab your hand. You held onto him like a lifeline, forehead and neck slick with sweat and cheeks stained with tears as you tried to fight through the worst part of the contraction.
Joel had had enough of seeing you in pain.
"Can't you do somethin'?" he barked at the doctor, an elderly man who, to his credit, was rather unshakable. He just sighed and peered at Joel over his glasses.
"Only thing that'll help is gettin' that baby out," he said gruffly. When your contraction finally subsided and your muscles relaxed into the mattress, your sheets already looking soaked with sweat, the doctor tapped your knees and kneeled at the foot of the bed. Joel watched, slightly horrified, as the man shoved two gloved fingers inside you. Your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe through it, but Joel could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on.
"Comin' along nicely," he remarked when he finally removed his fingers. He snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the ever growing pile of garbage in the basket next to the door. "You might just have a baby before end of the day. You're at six centimeters."
"Six!?" Joel exclaimed. "An hour ago you were three!"
"And she might stay at six for hours til there's any more movement," the doctor said. When he saw the look on your face at the thought of being in that much pain for that long, he quickly followed up with, "Or you'll continue to dilate quickly and in a few hours you'll have a beautiful baby."
Tears filled your eyes once the doctor left and you buried your face in your hands.
"C'mon, baby, don't cry, it's alright," Joel soothed. Then he remembered the water bottle, so he slipped a pillow case around it and pressed it up against your back.
"Oh," you breathed, head lifting up and eyes fluttering open. "Oh, that feels good."
"Yeah?" Joel asked, mindlessly rubbing your upper back. He watched you take a few deep breaths, then your tears slowed and you leaned back with a deep sigh.
"Thank you," you whispered, "this feels so much better."
"You're welcome," he replied just as softly. "I won't leave your side again."
The remainder of the afternoon was more of the same. Contractions came quicker and grew more intense with each hour, but thankfully every time the doctor checked, you were steadily progressing. Joel kept your water bottle warm and would massage your back and shoulders whenever you grew too tense. And even though the pain was getting worse, you were doing just fine because you knew each jolt of pain was bringing you closer and closer to meeting your baby.
It was around nine in the evening when the doctor announced you were ten centimeters.
"You ready to push?" he asked, giving you a comforting wink. You nodded and looked up at Joel, your fingers laced together anxiously. His expression was a mix of fear and excitement while he murmured praise and comfort in your ear. One of the nurses elevated your bed and padded the sides and another was laying out all sorts of sterilized instruments on a small table at the foot of the bed. Joel caught you eyeballing at a particularly scary looking scalpel and he leaned down.
"You don't look down there, you look right at me," he told you firmly. You nodded and squeezed his hand before taking a deep breath.
"I can do this."
Joel grinned and gave you a quick kiss.
"Fuck yeah, you can."
And you did. You really fucking did.
It took less than an hour but it felt like a whole lifetime, and just as you promised, you didn't look away from Joel once. With every push, he stared you right in the eye and clutched your hand and told you how strong you were, how he hoped your baby would be just like you and how he couldn't wait to meet them.
And finally, with one last push that took every ounce of energy you had, you felt it: relief. The pressure in your lower stomach was gone, the pain in your back and tailbone disappeared and for one ridiculous moment you thought you had somehow transcended what it was to feel pain until you heard a sharp wail pierce the air.
Tears flooded your eyes and your heart was racing so fast, the monitor next to your bed started beeping angrily. Then the doctor held up your baby from above the drop cloth that separated your lower half and for the first time in your life, you knew what it was to truly love someone. You loved Joel and your friends, but this was entirely different. This was a unique, pure kind of love that existed exclusively between a mother and her child, a kind of love that settled deep in your chest without any convincing at all.
"She's beautiful," you sobbed, reaching out for your baby.
"How'd you -" Joel began, but the doctor ushered him over to cut the umbilical cord so they could clean her up.
"She's right, it's a girl," he told Joel once he sliced the pinkish grey cord. Blood and clear fluid splashed onto the floor and it felt like marking the beginning of something. Somehow with that simple motion, Joel felt that feeling he never thought he would feel again. That unwavering urge to love and protect and provide flared like heat inside of him to the point where he had to hold himself back from letting the nurses whisk his daughter away.
"We did it," you whimpered, collapsing weakly into bed with tears streaming from your eyes while the doctor got to work cleaning and sewing you back up.
"You did it," Joel corrected before pressing a kiss against your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering for just one second longer before pulling back and swiping away tears of his own.
The two of you stayed like that, enjoying your little bubble for five minutes longer, knowing full well when the nurses brought your baby back into the room, it would no longer be just the two of you ever again.
And when they did, oh, when they did bring her back in, all red faced and angry with the world already, you couldn't have been happier. But when she latched onto your breast, even though that first time was clumsy and awkward, she finally quieted down and looked up at you. She had deep brown eyes just like Joel and she gave you a look that said, I know you. You just laughed and carefully stroked her perfect little cheek while Joel leaned over the bed, smile permanently plastered across his face as he watched his girls officially meet for the first time.
"She's so perfect," you whispered, watching as milk trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"You did so good, mama," Joel murmured in your ear before kissing the side of your head. "What should we name her?"
You couldn't look away from her, and she couldn't get enough of the two of you. Her eyes darted back and forth, probably wondering what the hell was going on and why her mom and dad wouldn't stop staring at her. And before you even had a chance to think it over, you answered.
"Emma," you said, grinning when her eyes found yours again. "Her name's Emma."
Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️
540 notes · View notes