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eufezco · 8 months ago

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THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

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mikewheeler · 8 months ago

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"Ever since I found out you are Whistledown, I have done everything I can to try and separate you from her. But the other day I went back and read all of the letters you have sent me. Your letters have always been the ones I am most eager to read, and I realized... you are her. You have always had one voice. There is no separating you from Whistledown. And after seeing you speak today... well, I would not want to. ... If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you, then I will be a very fulfilled man indeed." "I love you. You are a very good man, Mr. Bridgerton." "I love you."

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monicaalexandraaa · 5 months ago

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Me at the end of this LOL😌😌😌😌

Honey IV

Read Honey here | ~5.6k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, pining, another mini daddy-kink moment . A smidge of jealous Harry (more NIALL 😍)

Summary: “If y’want t’come to the office t’deliver it, y’could,” he said quietly.

“Aw, just want to see Miss Cecelia at lunch?” She asked with a smile.

For the first time in six months, Harry wasn’t thinking about Cece when he thought about her coming to the office for a visit. He wasn’t thinking about all his employees fawning over the little baby. The only thought he had regarded the pretty girl in his kitchen that was so thoughtful and kind to his little family.

Playing house with the pretty woman that lived a few rooms over from him was becoming a dangerous pastime for Harry. The way she looked so at ease with Cece on her hip. How she cooked and cleaned because she wanted to. It was immensely irritating solely because Harry was thinking things he shouldn’t. Thinking inappropriate things about how quickly he could give Cece a sibling.

Harry was getting to know her more and more as time moved on. After almost four months it seemed like it was time. She was a little closed off. Never invited friends over—especially after that one date she had ended with her so upset. But he did meet a few of them through FaceTime. The girls she was friends with seemed a little tongue tied but they gushed over Cece and asked when they could come see her place. But her happy, cheerful attitude seemed unbelievably resilient regarding her date fiasco. There were no men she mentioned which was good from Harry’s perspective.

He couldn’t deny he was rapidly falling for her, and he couldn’t stop himself. For Christmas, she had a giftbag on the counter beside a treat box in addition to his daily leftovers. “Could you bring that to Niall?” She asked while setting toast with jam in front of him. Harry’s eyes followed her as she flitted about the kitchen. “He said he was going to Ireland for Christmas,” she explained.

He scowled. He didn’t care if it was ridiculous or if she would read into it, if he would read into it. “Do y’do this for everyone in your life? Or are y’in love with Niall?”

She laughed. “I love Niall, but not like that.”

He was lucky Cece was gurgling so much or he might have asked why—was there someone else or did Niall repulse her? He hoped it was the latter more than anything. He would seriously struggle if it was the former. “Do you and Cece have plans today?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Just the usual library and a little walk,” she turned and leaned against the counter. “Why?”

“If y’want t’come to the office t’deliver it, y’could,” he said quietly.

“Aw, just want to see Miss Cecelia at lunch?” She asked with a smile.

Chloe would have loved her, and he hoped that was enough.

“Yeah, she’s getting so big,” he frowned. His little love was nearing six-months. It was killing him. Her first Christmas was about to come and pass. He bought her so much stuff and she wouldn’t even know it was Christmas other than pictures he would keep forever.

“She’s still little,” she cooed and sat on the stool beside Harry and turned to look at them. “You ready to try some solid food, cutie pie?”

Harry stiffened as Cece looked at her passively while drinking her bottle. But his stiffness didn’t pass by her. She was too attuned for him to sneak anything by her.

She encouraged Harry to take an online class about introducing solid food to Cece. It was terrifying to listen to. But she was CPR certified (because of course she was) and Harry was signed up for that next, but she promised to be right beside him when Harry tried to give her avocado for the first time—which was right now. “This is a Daddy moment,” she told him. If he wasn’t so distraught he would think about how that word in her mouth made him crazier for her. “It’ll be awesome,” she promised squeezing his knee. “She’s not even going to eat it, she’s probably just going to mush it around on the high chair.”

Harry wanted no part of Cece growing up. “Can’t y’jus’ stay little, baby girl?” He cooed and kissed her hair. “I’ll give y’anything y’want,” he bargained.

She giggled, getting up and bringing the highchair over in front of him. Harry took a deep breath feeling like he was going to die a little bit and deposited his daughter in the seat. She looked so little, but she was gurgling and smiling at him.

“Daddy loves avocado,” she said knowingly, carrying a plate of thick slices over to the pair of them. “Let me get my camera ready,” she said taking her phone out and pulling the stool out a little distance away. “Okay, Cece, action,” she joked and watched as Harry patiently waited for her to acknowledge the food.

It didn’t take long, she reached out and immediately squished one of the slices between her fingers. “Is it squishy?” He wrinkled his nose and kissed her forehead. “Is it so squishy?” He repeated, making her giggle. She shoved her hand toward her mouth, making Harry excessively nervous by the amount that was in her hand and how tiny her mouth was. His gaze anxiously flickered to her behind her phone.

“That’s so good, Cece,” she encouraged with a grin and winking at Harry, so he knew not to be nervous, and it wouldn’t ruin the video of such an important memory. He took a deep breath and tried to savor the moment.

She paused her video. “Put some on your finger and then hold it out to her lips to try,” she told him settling her phone in her lap for a moment. She took some of the avocado from the plate as a demonstration with her index finger. Barely any appearing when she showed Harry and then she pressed her finger to her lips before she picked her phone back up. Harry wondered if anyone in the history of the world had ever been turned on by the prettiest woman eating avocado off her fingertip in front of a baby. That had to be a record. “Ready?” She asked.

Harry did as she showed him and nodded. “All set,” he smiled sweetly as she grabbed her phone again. “Ready baby?” He asked and held his finger right in front of her lips. She was still squishing her hand near her mouth but as far as Harry could tell, none had gone in. But Harry’s finger appeared much more interesting to the little one and she immediately put her lips to his index finger. He chuckled as she sucked on it, smacked her lips together so cutely that both of them laughed at the little noise. There was a quiet pause as Cece’s face morphed into a frown that was downright comical on her little lips and then she burst into tears.

Their laughter continued for a moment as Harry grabbed a wipe and rubbed her face of all she had left behind. “Oh, was that so icky?” Harry clucked and kissed her little cheeks where tears had fallen. “Good, y’can be m’baby for a while longer and we’ll only have bubbas,” he promised. “No growing up for us,” he scooped her out of the seat, avocado getting on his suit, but he didn’t care.

“Harry,” her voice was soft. He turned to her, catching the kind look in her eye. “Do you offer parental leave at your company?”

All of the air left his lungs. It was a miracle he didn’t drop his daughter. He hoped his face remained unaffected because he felt anything but unaffected.

If she was pregnant, Harry was going to scream. It took him a solid minute of focusing on the smell of Cece: baby shampoo and mashed avocado. When would she have gotten pregnant? Of course, more importantly, who got her pregnant made him worry he was going to squeeze Cece too tight if he asked.

As far as Harry knew, she hadn’t left the house in months to go on a date. He cleared his throat, swallowed the rock that lodged itself in his esophagus. “Well... yeah, of course I do.”

“Did you use it?” She asked, her voice still quiet.

Harry blinked. He wasn’t expecting that question. “What?”

“Did you take your parental leave?”

“Well...no. But s’a little different when y’own the company.”

“Harry,” she frowned. Then he realized. She was not pregnant, thank fuck. Naturally she was asking on behalf of Harry, making sure that he was taken care of because that’s what she did. “You need to take it,” her smile was so lovely. “It’s the perfect time, it’s the holiday season and then you’ll have your birthday—”

Holy shit. “How do y’know when m’birthday is?”

“Because I own a phone with internet?” She rolled her eyes. Harry snorted. “It doesn’t matter if you’re the CEO, Harry. You deserve time with your baby as much as anyone else.”

“I can’t exactly leave, leave.”

“Then you should only work one day a week! You own the company. You could do whatever you want,” she reminded him. “You will regret not taking this time, I promise. Please take it, you deserve it. Cece deserves it too.”

Harry felt a tightness in his throat. “Well, what ‘bout you?”

“What about me?”

He glanced away, leaving kisses on top of Cece’s head. He took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was come off as creepy asking her to stay in his house even if she wasn’t... needed.

Even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“If m’home... then...”

“Oh,” she blinked, understanding immediately. If Harry was home, she didn’t really need to be there. She shrugged. “I mean, I can probably stay with Niall for a couple months. I would of course be happy to watch her on the day you go into work.”

“You’re not staying with Niall,” he grumbled. “You can stay here, obviously. M’not firing you.”

“Phew!” She smiled wiping fake sweat off her forehead. “I could go visit my family, then.”

“They’re not... coming here?” He asked.

Harry had it all arranged, he was going to take Cece to visit his family for the weekend, she could have the house to herself. She could trash it for all he cared. As long as she was happy. He knew how important her family was to her.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t tell you,” she cleared her throat. “They told me last night... so yeah, no,” she looked at her lap. “My little brother would be away from his girlfriend—his first girlfriend so it’s a big deal. It would be too much to get everyone else here, too. They’re probably right. I mean I’m just one person,” she shrugged but Harry could see how much it hurt her to say it. She had been planning for weeks. Presents had been overflowing in her bedroom. Recipes had lined the counter for Harry to decide which ones were best and if he was willing to be a guinea pig for them. If they only told her last night, then they had to have known early on that they never intended to come because there was no way they were booking last-minute flights.

The poor thing.

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he frowned. Cece made a noise that sounded like she was agreeing with him which at least made her smile.

“Thank you, and you,” she pinched softly at Cece’s thigh.

“Well... y’should go be with them regardless of m’leave... But I’ll go talk t’HR today.”

“Honestly?” she swallowed. “I don’t want to. I have done all the traveling for... years. Obviously, I don’t have my own place so I can’t host and so I was so thankful when you offered and,” her voice broke, and she looked away from Harry. Her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. She tried to hide how she felt. How dare her family make her sad. She didn’t deserve that. “Anyway,” she stared at her lap. “You did a great job Daddy,” she winked and rubbed his arm as she grabbed the avocado from the highchair and brought it toward the counter in the other room. Harry was sitting there stunned by how she could break his heart and turn him on in the same minute.

“You’re not going to eat that are you?” He wrinkled his nose hoping to distract himself before he professed his love for her or asked to bend her over the counter.

“What are Cece’s hands suddenly unclean from all her hard work in the yard?” She asked sarcastically, but her mouth most definitely already had the mushed avocado in it.

How was he going to convince this sweet, perfect, hilarious woman to hang out with him while on leave?

On Christmas, she slept in. It seemed silly to get up when no one would be there. She figured at least she could set out her gifts for Harry and Cece now. She didn’t want Harry to think that he had to get her anything, so she had been monitoring the hundreds of gifts he had put beneath the tree making sure that none had her name on it. Some gifts were wrapped and but most were unwrapped because Cece would be none the wiser.

She was certain no one could love a daughter more than Harry loved Cece.

Merry Christmas she texted to her family. Love and miss you

Her brother reacted with a thumbs up.

Baby bro, your love is 😍 overwhelming

🙄

Merry Christmas, sis her older brother texted. Love you

Their gifts would be delivered late because she didn’t know they weren’t coming. But she thought that was kind of nice, extending the holiday season. Climbing out of the bed, she went to her bathroom and brushed her teeth.

Merry Christmas she had the message typed out to send to Harry but worried it was weird to send. She was hoping to see a picture of her favorite six-month-old in the little Christmas dress Gemma had sent. Maybe Harry was feeling awkward as well because there was no reason he should send her a picture of Cece. It wasn’t necessary.

Deleting the message, she grabbed the box of presents she had been stashing in her walk-in closet in case Harry happened into her room. Harry was impossible to shop for. He was rich as hell and didn’t need anything. But when he insisted on shopping with her a few months back, she got a chance to see what his eyes lingered on and what his style was like outside of tailored suits and fancy wine.

Harry probably could afford the entire inventory of the silly little department store they went to, but he didn’t rush her. He didn’t mind walking around pushing a stroller. He even found something he wanted to buy. Then he pointed at things he thought she would like, and she was glad he was right. It made her feel seen.

She tried to shove the thoughts away of Harry because frankly, she was going to miss them for the weekend. She was lonely and the holiday only amplified that feeling.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Her heart fluttered and she sniffed the air realizing the smell of something baked and delicious was coming from the kitchen.

“Harry?” She asked.

“So close, Ce,” he chuckled. She hurried to the kitchen, dropping the overflowing box on the counter. “What the hell is that?” He asked, pointing the tongs he had poised over the waffle maker at the presents. “Y’didn’t get her anything, did you?”

“What are you doing here?” She asked in shock. Cece was sitting in her highchair mashing a banana into the table in front of her as well as her face and hair. She giggled at the sight of her favorite friend and Harry smiled.

“Y’thought Miss Cecelia would let y’be alone on Christmas?”

“Harry,” she put a hand on her chest and a tidal wave of tears and emotions cut off her voice. “What about—”

“Well, we didn’t think y’would come t’Mum’s. Even though y’would be more than welcome. So Mum and Gem and everyone are going t’come here.”

She moved her hand to her throat, anxiety clogging it. “No, they’re not. Harry! I don’t have presents for them!”

“Love, y’don’t need t’have presents for them. I figured y’could just cook and bake all those recipes y’had picked out. Trust me that will be plenty—”

She slammed into his body without warning. He dropped the tongs on the kitchen floor and blinked in surprise at the sweet girl snuggling into his body as her shoulders shook. “Why are y’crying, Miss Honey?” He asked quietly. He wound one arm around her waist and cupped the back of her head with the other. Fortunately, he stopped himself before he kissed the top of her hair. She shook her head unable to answer as she cried. But Harry didn’t need an answer. He already knew. After several moments of her tears, he finally spoke again. “Happy Christmas, Miss Honey.”

She sniffled, ducked her head, avoiding his eyes. “Do those have chocolate chips in them?” Her voice had a slight breathy tone having just finished crying.

“Course.”

“This is the best job in the world.”

She was so good at everything.

Even board games.

“Why are we even playing this?” He grumbled as she landed on a triple word score spot.

“Because it’s raining,” she giggled. Harry was a businessman. A competitive one. Watching her win at Scrabble was not good for his ego. He grumbled something about how this was unfair. “You wanted to play.”

At the time the rain was sheeting against the front window. It was Saturday and she had another delicious soup simmering on the stovetop waiting to enhance the day. Harry had already watched her read on the sofa snuggled under a blanket and couldn’t believe how much he wanted to lay his head in her lap and fall asleep with her hand in his hair. So he figured playing a board game would keep him from thinking inappropriate thoughts about his employee.

But if he knew she was going to annihilate him like this, he would have let her keep reading. He and Cece spent time playing in her room to give Miss Honey ample time to herself. Harry only brought her out so he could shower after his workout at the gym he had on the basement floor. It was mainly weights which was her least favorite thing so she asked Harry if she could buy a treadmill to put in the gym since it was long since, too cold for her swims (which of course, the very best treadmill was going to be delivered the following week after the conversation).

When he came out of the bathroom, Miss Honey and Cece were rolling on the floor and giggling at each other. Harry didn’t want the day to end so before she left the room, he asked if she would want to play a board game. “I didn’t know y’were going t’hustle me,” he rolled his eyes.

But he loved the way her giggle sounded. He liked how she looked effortlessly comfortable sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table while Harry sat with Cece in her little crescent pillow watching while snuggling with her favorite stuffy. “Hustle you? It’s Scrabble!”

“So jus’ because s’not poker y’can’t hustle me?”

“No poker I would actually hustle you.”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but fall in love with the funny bantering tone in her voice. “Do y’hear this Cece? Miss Honey isn’t so sweet after all.”

She smiled, delight flittering in her eyes. She crawled around the coffee table firing the flame of a fantasy Harry didn’t know he had, and she stopped in front of Cece’s little chair. “Is Daddy a sore loser, Cece?” She cooed. “Is Daddy so silly?” She leaned forward and kissed her cheek while tickling her tummy. Harry swore there was something in his brain that short circuited every time she said Daddy. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate,” she said standing up.

“It’s your turn!” He protested.

Without looking back, she shrugged. “Skip it; I don’t need it.”

He grumbled something under his breath and simultaneously wondered if he was the first person to ever be turned on while playing Scrabble. How was losing to her so hot? Her smugness maybe? It was a side of her that she didn’t see that often.

Fortunately, something shattered in the kitchen that grabbed his attention back before he thought about how even with a skipped turn, there wasn’t a chance he could win. “Shit,” she hissed.

“Love?” He asked, snagging Cece out of her mini chair, he kissed her on the forehead and put her in her rocking swing. He hurried to the kitchen entryway.

“Hold on!” She said, holding her hand out to stop him. There’s glass everywhere,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry, I hope that wasn’t an important mug,” she frowned.

The mug didn’t matter. Not even a little. “Are you okay?” He asked. She was frozen in place.

“Yeah, I’m fine... Can you grab my shoes by the door?”

Harry was already wearing his slippers, so he ignored her and brushed the glass out of the way with his foot. In his next move he reached low around the back of her thighs, wrapping his arms snuggly just below her butt. “Whoa,” she whispered unsteadily as he lifted her as if she were no heavier than Cece. Her heart tumbled in her chest at about three thousand rotations per second. Part of her thought she was going to pass out, but he settled her on the counter and walked away as if that was nothing. Her body felt like it was a thousand degrees. She wished Harry had a nanny cam. She would have watched her get picked up by him like it was her favorite movie. Blinking, she glanced at the living room where Cece was watching the little mobile above her, unaware that she was completely in love with her dad.

Harry returned with the broom and swept all the pieces up. Still not holding her shoes. “Harry, my shoe—”

“I got it, love.”

“Well, I need to get down. I’m not letting you skip all my turns,” she reminded him. He chuckled ignoring her. “At least let me get the vacuum cleaner to make sure,” he didn’t even attempt to help her. “What’s your plan—”

“I’ll jus’ carry you,” he smirked with a shrug.

She really wished for a nanny cam. It seemed Harry was taking his sweet time and left her trapped. He knelt down in front of her to get pieces that slid beneath the overhang of the lower cabinets. Which made her cheeks flame because he was so close to her knee she could have bumped him with it. Was he doing it on purpose? No, he didn’t view her that way. He was a professional, a much better professional than she was.

He left again to grab the vacuum cleaner and turned it on.

Perhaps she was a little too flustered, a little cooped up in Harry’s nice house, because the gorgeous, intelligent, and kind CEO that was vacuuming might have been one of the sexiest things she had ever seen. She loved seeing him each morning in a tailored suit. When he got home wearing his button down that was unbuttoned at the top? She was glad Cece was in bed so she wouldn’t see her eye-fucking her father even if he was her boss while he continued working at the kitchen counter and ate his dinner.

But Harry lounging on the weekend? Sweatpants, a tight t-shirt that hugged every rigid muscle? She was a goner and only so lucky that Cece was in the other room and couldn’t see.

The drone of the vacuum stopped, and Harry smiled at her. “Think I got it all. Y’should be able t’get down... go take your turn while I put this away.” She was pretty sure that was a reminder since she was obviously stupefied by Harry’s hotness. But truthfully, she thought her legs would give out if she tried to stand. “Are you okay?” Harry asked.

She nodded, then shook her head, and hopped down from the counter. “Yes, just a little...” she blinked trying to keep her mind focused on her commanding Scrabble lead. “The weather makes me sleepy.”

As if on cue, the power went out.

“Shit,” Harry muttered.

She grabbed her phone and turned on the flashlight grateful for the dark to hide her hot cheeks and distracted Harry from wondering why she was so flustered.

Leaving Harry in the kitchen, she returned to the living room and scooped Cece out of the swing. “Well, sweet girl, I guess it’s bedtime,” she giggled. There was a very distinct noise that came from behind her. “You absolutely did not bump the board,” she said into the dark.

“Of course not!” Harry sounded defensive, and also very guilty.

“Daddy, is a very sore loser, Cece,” she whispered and kissed her head.

She used her flashlight to glance at her lost lead and shook her head before turning the light on the offending party. Harry was all delicious smiles and dimples. He pulled his phone from his pocket and used the light to help guide them to Cece’s room. “Hmm,” she hummed looking at the dark room as she passed Cece to Harry.

“Let’s get you t’bed, sweet girl,” he cooed and kissed her cheek. He turned to the changing table while she started searching through all of Cece’s toys in the closet.

“I know it’s in here,” she murmured to herself. The thunder cracked loudly overhead, and she jumped in surprise dropping her phone on the floor.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked.

“Yeah, just jumpy.”

“None of your books are ghost stories?”

She snorted. “Not even close... here we are.”

The room glowed with stars all across Cece’s ceiling coming from the lights all over the back of a stuffed turtle. She watched Harry glance around. “Hmm,” he hummed. “S’pretty,” he mumbled. Harry was bathed in a cool bluish and purple glow. His skin seemed to downright sparkle as the color passed over him. He was so pretty.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the nightlight on the floor and Harry kissed Cece again before he gently placed her in the crib. “Good night my love,” he said sweetly rubbing his hand on her stomach.

“Night Cece, sleep tight,” she leaned over just the same and rubbed her hand on Cece’s stomach the same way Harry had. The two of them left, the only light came from their flashlights pointed at their feet.

“Do y’want a rematch?” He asked.

“In the dark?”

“Good point. I was thinking we could jus’ light some candles. If you’re too scared t’lose, I understand.”

She laughed. A candlelit board game was probably the opposite of what would settle her heart. It was bedtime for Cece but still a bit early for two grown adults. She worried she was keeping Harry up because maybe he didn’t want to hang out with her now that the power was out. Now there was nothing to do but really go to sleep because it was too dark to do anything else.

“Um... we don’t have to do this, if you want to go to bed. I imagine you’re tired and going to bed when the power is out makes me feel less guilty,” she shook her head grateful for the dark, so he didn’t have to see her embarrassment.

“I’ll go easy on you,” he joked grabbing candles from the cabinet in the kitchen island.

She snorted. As if she needed that. “No... it’s just... you’re right. It’s dark and it’s silly. I’m sure you’re tired.”

The candles were battery operated. So he wouldn't feel anxious if he forgot to turn them off. She grabbed a few and headed down the hall to the bathroom and turned them on. Once more something Harry wouldn't think about on his own, but she just naturally knew to do.

“S’like eight o’clock on a Saturday night. I know I'm a dad but m’not that old.”

Harry wanted to hang out with her. Her heart felt like it was beating too hard.

Fuck it. “Fair enough,” she laughed. “Do you wanna tell ghost stories then?”

Harry laughed. It was pure, unfiltered, and unaffected by anything. How often did he get moments like this? She was going to make him go to bed at eight on a Saturday? She could control her lovesick emotions for another couple hours.

Hopefully.

At some point they abandoned the game. Harry was losing again, and he kept blaming the lack of light on his performance. “Cece’s mum would have loved you,” Harry murmured quietly.

Her heart fluttered. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “We were friends,” he shrugged. “Not in love.”

“Oh, I always kind of wondered if the articles were true.”

“Chloe was bubbly and fun. She loved Cece with her whole heart the entire time she was pregnant and before...” he trailed off. “She didn’t have any family, so it was jus’... our weird little family.”

She wanted to hear more but didn’t want to press. “She’s beautiful,” she thought of the picture that she posed Cece with the last four months on the little blanket that showed off how big Cece was getting.

“S’why Cece is so pretty,” the dark was a good cover so that Harry couldn’t see her slam her tongue between her teeth to keep from saying he was just as much a part of it. “I hope she’s smart and bubbly like her too.”

“You’re doing a great job,” she reminded him. “You know that, right?”

He shrugged. “M’not around a lot.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know, Harry. You have no idea what some families are like. You are...” she smiled. “You’re the best dad,” she promised. “Cece is a lucky girl.”

He tilted his head at her, and she was right; candlelight was horrible for her heart. He was so pretty. “When’s your birthday?”

“What?”

“Birthday? Cake, candles, presents...?”

She swallowed. “It already past.”

“Before y’moved in?” He asked. Was that hope in his voice? She felt guilty. Harry was unbearably kind. She knew it would upset him that he missed it. She shook her head. He stared at her. His eyes unblinking and bubbling with frustration. Even in the dark. “When?”

“When you went on your business trip,” she whispered.

Another pause. She was pretty sure he already knew. “Which day?”

She took a deep breath. “Monday,” she mumbled.

“When I yelled at you?”

“I don’t think about that literally ever. I think about Cece and how scared we were that something was wrong with her and that the phones—”

“Did anyone even say Happy Birthday to you?”

“I think Niall did. But only at like ten minutes of midnight. He didn’t know and he saw it in a post on my Facebook wall.”

There was a tense silence that followed.

“Why didn’t y’say anything?”

“I mean... I’m not...” she shrugged. “It’s just a birthday. I’m not really a party person and it was a Monday. My friends have work and... I’m usually the party planner so quite frankly they probably forgot. But it’s okay. It’s...it’s just a birthday,” but she didn’t sound convinced. She put so much effort into her friend’s special days. Making sure they had a cupcake, a present, and a dinner or gathering of their choosing. She shook her head. “I just remembered I left the stove on before the power went out. I’m going to turn it off in case it comes back on in the middle of the night.”

Harry’s phone was close to dying, but he didn’t care.

Did she get you something for your birthday?

Three months ago? Yeah. A cupcake and a gift if I recall. Can’t wait to see what she cooks up for your birthday.

Did you get her something for her birthday?

Yeah.

...

Didn’t you?

Harry could hear her putting the soup into containers and putting them into the fridge.

“We should probably put another blanket on Cece,” she called quietly. “I need another sweatshirt. Do you need another sweatshirt? I think I saw one in the laundry pile.”

Her sweetness was going to kill Harry.

I didn’t KNOW her birthday happened

Oh man, you’re FUCKED.

“I think I won again,” she said proudly, returning to the living room putting a sweatshirt on over her head. “I put another blanket on Cece. Do you want to play again?”

“Fuck it,” he whispered, dropped his phone on the couch, knocked the board over as he moved quickly around the coffee table half blind from the soft candlelight. Without breaking eye contact, he kissed her. His hands slid in her hair staticky with the effort of her sweatshirt mussing with her hair. She moaned instantly.

“Harry,” her voice sounded worn. Like a half-groan, half-pained. It made Harry shiver as his lips attached to her throat and he kissed down. “Harry, wait...”

“Wait what, love?” He murmured. “I can’t do this anymore,” his hands slid down her sides.

“We were playing a game...” but her voice was airy. Uncertain.

His lips were back on hers. Causing her to lose focus. Restructuring her thoughts of what it would feel like when she thought about it a hundred times before. Harry pulled back, his gaze searingly hot on her eyes. “I’m done playing, kitten.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

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Honey: @jerseygirlinca @one-sweet-gubler

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#haaaaa he wanted to be like is there someone else ??? Is it me ??? Pls say it’s me #he’s so cute with cece I actually am obsessed #I love her she’s so real #he’s so down bad with avocado and scrabble kinks💀🤣I love it #THE NANNY CAM I LAUGHED OUT LOUD I LOVE HER #omg the birthdayyyyy #gosh I know that feeling too well I get her #FUCK IT YEAAAHHHH #INDEED #DONE PLAYING GAME OVERRRRRR #harry styles fic rec #fic rec #so good so good #love love love

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kikiiswashere · 3 months ago

Text

Four to Tango

As promised, part two of Waltzing for Three!!!

Thank you for helping me reach 200 followers for this little ol' blog of mine 🥰 And welcome to all the newcomers!

The idea for this ficlet was born of watching my bestie @sand-sea-and-fable help out a pregnant friend by lifting her belly off her hips, and it just sort of spiraled from there.

It's also worth noting that I myself am not a mother, nor have I given birth, nor do I wish to be a mom (husband got the ol' snip-snip). So why this fic? Good question 😅

That being said, I did my best to write about the labor process relatively accurately without getting into the super nitty-gritty of it 😂 So, please enjoy this weird little fever-dream of a fic, and please comment and reblog 💗

Tags for the interested parties: @luhmoon, @legendaryflowercheesecake, @thebeserkvernid, @miffysoo

Pairing: Established Silco x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Teen/Mature (brief reference to oral sex)

CW: Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy and labor

Insistent cramping had woken you up in the wee-hours one morning, swelling and ebbing in a slow rhythm that sent your heart tapping, a loop of nerves coiling around your gut – little room that there was for it.

Silco had been a terribly light sleeper ever since Vander’s betrayal, ever since those early years on an under-tested Shimmer variant that left his brain unable to fully settle. So, the moment you shifted into a sitting position, he shot up as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Words got gummed up on fear and excitement in your mouth. There was a slight tremor in your fingers as they grazed over your belly. You had noticed it sitting even lower on your hips these past several days. While you were very done with being pregnant, you were still nervous and surprised to say –

“I think it’s time.”

With comical amounts of speed, but awe-inspiring grace, Silco flung himself from the bed, divesting himself of his eyepatch and pajamas. After changing into a simple set of trousers and an old button-up shirt, he fetched the stopwatch Jinx had invented to easily time your contractions, and wrote a tube prompting your midwife that she was needed. It had been decided early on that the babe’s delivery – barring any complications – would happen at The Last Drop. You, nor Silco, were willing to venture outside to a clinic when your family would be at its most vulnerable.

Too nervous to lay down, much less fall back asleep, you began pacing the large bedroom in your large sleep shirt. Every time a contraction locked up and spasmed through your lower belly and back, your fingers pressed the stopwatch’s clicker. And you breathed as the midwife had instructed. Silco kept you company, walking with you up and down the length of the bedroom, holding your hand and becoming an anchor to squeeze when contractions rolled through. Together, you both noted and kept track of their intervals. Their spacing and length suggested that the little one’s arrival was not imminent, but the consistency indicated that this was indeed labor.

The midwife arrived, ushered in by a half-asleep Sevika. You’d bribed her with an absurd bonus and several pre-paid sessions at Babette’s for her to crash in one of the Drop’s private guest rooms during these last days of your pregnancy. She was needed for security, and to stand-in for Silco when his attention and priorities would be elsewhere.

“Good luck,” she’d grumbled, barely glancing at you before shutting the bedroom door, and trudging back down the hall.

The midwife was a petite, wizened Vastaya who’d been selected for her services not only because of her field prowess, but because she was staunch loyalist to you and Silco. Shimmer had helped save more than one of her clients when the birthing process had begun to go sideways, and that was enough for her to hitch her wagon to your agenda.

She was also direct to the point of rudeness – a personality trait that was wholly welcome given the slippery, hidden, self-serving rhetoric you were used to having to deal with.

“Time?” she asked, setting her medical bag down on your dresser with a heavy thunk.

“Forty-five seconds to a minute, about every seven minutes,” you answered. Then gasped and doubled over as another contraction bent you.

The midwife hummed. “How long?”

“About an hour,” Silco said. He squeezed back at your hand as you rode out the current wave rolling through.

Clucking her tongue, the midwife shook her head, long ears slapping lightly against her horns.

“Early.”

Silco frowned. “You are being more than thoroughly compensated to show up whenever we ask.”

“Indeed. To the bed, miss. Let’s have a look.”

Once your legs were freed from the lock of the contraction, you shuffled to the bed. Silco helped you into position, and the midwife closed in. Her fingers were warm, but the tools were cold. The combination, along with your nerves, caused your lungs to shudder.

“Five,” she declared, drawing her head from between your thighs.

“That’s halfway,” you chuckled weakly. Silco brushed his thumb over your knuckles

The midwife hummed in agreement. “True. But as discussed, this process is not linear. And being your first delivery, it is very likely this will take a while. How is the pain?”

“Fine. Manageable.” It came out as a grit, but she didn’t seem to doubt you.

“You should eat and drink while you can. Is there anything else you want or need right now?”

Together, you and Silco walked to the small kitchen in your private quarters. You rested your forearms on the counter as the length of your spine hammocked behind you, hips gently swishing side-to-side. Silco kept the breakfast blissfully simple: toast with a light slather of butter, and a mug of warmed water with lemon.

Eating was slow going. Between the jitters and contractions, your appetite was seriously curbed. When you finally made it to the second piece of toast, Jinx shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. Her bedraggled demeanor did not last long though, as her whip-quick senses tuned into the energy of the space. Big, blue eyes tracked between Silco – unusually underdressed – and your strange posture. One could nearly hear the cogs in her head clicking and whirring.

“Is it time?!”

In a flash, she clambered onto the stool next to you, bright and tittering. Her exuberance washed over you in a relieving breeze. Reaching over, you ran a hand through her unkempt hair.

“Sure is, kiddo.”

“When will he be here?”

“Could be a while yet, Jinx,” Silco answered. He set a glass of juice in front of her. “What would you like? Toad-in-the-hole? Porridge? Pancakes?”

“Make ‘em have a face!” she crowed.

A hook of a smile pulled at Silco’s mouth as he turned back toward the stove.

Jinx settled onto the stool; legs kicking merrily beneath her as she sipped her juice.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like intense menstrual cramps.”

Her small face squished in a ponder. While you had had that conversation with her, Jinx had yet to broach into that aspect of puberty. Thus, she had no point of reference.

“Kinda like when you roof-run after eating, and your abs cramp up,” you offered. “Kind of.”

A contraction swelled upon you, and you grit your teeth, face pinching, head dropping. Silco stepped away from the stovetop, and placed a grounding hand between your shoulder blades. Jinx watched, eyes wide and worried. Timidly, she shifted toward you, pressing her forehead to your shoulder.

The pain continued, but was temporarily numbed by the overwhelming love and gratitude for the two people on either side of you.

Your family.

It was never part of the plan when it came to your Silco’s ideas to lift Zaun up, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And in a few hours, three would be four. Your heart beat big, tapping against your throat as the contraction passed. You clicked the stopwatch.

“That seems worse than roof-run cramps,” Jinx said suspiciously.

You chuffed. “Like I said: Kind of.”

Silco rubbed his hand up and down your spine a few times, before kissing your temple and returning to the stove.

“You remember what we talked about?” you asked Jinx.

She fiddled with her hair, nodding. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Right. If you want to be with us, I want you to be there. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. You get to decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now.”

Jinx nodded again, eyes staring into the middle-distance. Reaching over, you brushed your fingers through her hair again. Her eyes snapped back to yours.

“Are you scared?”

You gave her a reassuring smile.

“No. I’m happy.”

It wasn’t a lie. But a few hours later, your happiness was thoroughly overshadowed by the pain of labor. It was staggering how it had intensified. How it was becoming near non-stop as the space between contractions shortened and shortened. Gravity felt impossible to contend with on top of everything else, so you sank onto your bedroom floor with a low, guttural growl.

Silco had been attentive throughout, anticipating your needs before you even voiced them. Ever your anchor, your source for steadiness. Even now, on your hands and knees, his own wide palms settled onto your hips and pressed in. It pulled an appreciative groan from your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my love.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Your eyes flicked to the bathroom door where Jinx was helping the midwife prepare a warm bath. You were proud of your girl. Admittedly, part of you doubted she would choose to stick around once labor became loud and more intense. When you could no longer keep yourself from crying out, hesitancy had flickered in her eyes, and her brows pitched in concern. But instead of dashing away, she’d reached for your hand and held tight.

“Is there anything you can give her?” she’d asked the midwife incredulously.

The female had smirked, impressed and moved by the girl’s protectiveness of you.

“I have mild pain relievers, but nothing that will fully numb – “

“Shimmer?”

The midwife’s black lips thinned. “That is only to be used in emergencies,” she explained. “It is too potent and powerful to be used for anything other than the most extreme circumstances. Which – “her eyes looked up at your haggard form on the bed – “does not seem probable. Her labor is progressing as it should. There is nothing to worry about.”

Jinx frowned, doubtful, and hunkered closer to your side.

“Seems like a dumb design that it hurts so much.”

“Agreed,” you wheezed.

“Come,” the midwife said, “let’s check you.”

She declared you’d progressed to eight centimeters. That had been three hours ago. And the pain just continued to climb and build.

A small sob burst through your teeth. Silco knelt at your side, quietly saying your name.

“I’m scared, Sil,” you admitted in a whisper. You were thankful Jinx wasn’t near to hear you back-pedal. Your breath hitched and words tumbled out: “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He took your warm and tear-streaked face between his hands, and repeated your name.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, your tired and wet eyes focused on his face. He looked at you with fierce earnestness, thumbs sweeping across the apples of your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, part of you grieved that the baby would never know Silco without his scars. Or yours. Outside and in.

Silco called your name again.

“Look at me,” he repeated. Your eyes slid back to his. Blue and red pinned you in place. “You can do this. I’ve not met anyone more tenacious, nor strong, nor as spirited as you. Those are but a few of the reasons I fell in love with you so long ago.” His eyes softened now; his adoration made plain. “You’ve absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.”

A small hiccup bubbled from your mouth, and you pressed your face into the warmth of his palm, breathing him in deeply. Not having properly dressed for the day, he hadn’t put any cologne on. The natural terra-sweet scent of his skin filled your nose. You were grateful for his support, respect, and belief in your abilities. A sudden, silly thought flitted across your mind.

“Not my dance moves?”

A single amused breath huffed from his throat. That infinitesimal smirk – one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with him – appeared on his lips. His blue eye flashed; as it often did when an idea struck him. Silco lifted to his feet, and used a strong grip to pull you to yours. He guided your arms to loop around his shoulders and neck, while his went to your low back. A weary chuckle left you as you understood. Your cheek was a relieved, heavy weight against his shoulder. It had to be a strange sight, this dance configuration: with your body slouched against his, massive belly hanging between you two. Slowly, your feet began gently shifting side-to-side.

“Admittedly,” he murmured against your crown, “your dance moves leave something to be desired right now.”

You laughed, even as another contraction swelled within you. Silco’s hands firmed up on your body, holding you upright as it moved through your body.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you hissed as most of the pain subsided. It was such now that there was no longer any real relief.

“A dance and a suck job? Lucky me.”

Your fingers pinched Silco’s upper back, and you felt the tremor of silent laughter in his shoulders.

“Tub’s ready!” Jinx sang as she flounced out of the bathroom.

Managing to smile at her, despite another great, contracting swell that threatened to bring you to your knees, you took her hand. Silco kept a strong arm wrapped around your middle, and you followed Jinx into the humid warmth of the bathroom.

The water helped. Its heat soothed your pained muscles and aching bones. The irony was not lost on you that you found peace in it. After a few minutes of settling into the tub, you gave Silco a look that to anyone else may have seemed like nothing. But he caught the message in your eyes, and tucked himself close to the tub’s edge, taking your hand. Jinx huddled herself into his lap, nervously fingering the buttons on his shirt.

About an hour later, the midwife’s large ears flicked in your direction as the quality of your breath shifted, as the sounds leaving you turned deeper and more animal. Her deft hands slipped into the water and between your legs.

“Something changed,” you gasped, hunching slightly. “It feels like – “

“It’s time,” she said, pulling her hands from the water. Somehow, she’d also stripped your underwear off in the same movement without you noticing. “It’s time to push.”

Push. The word settled into your body with a deep, innate knowing.

Yes. That’s what you were feeling. The near uncontrollable need to bare down. An old, predetermined instinct washed over you. You could do this.

But you did not want to do it alone.

“Sil.”

The grit of his name and the way you shifted yourself forward spurred your partner into understanding. Swiftly, he stood, deposited Jinx onto the stool he’d vacated, and then stepped into the tub, sliding in behind you. Settling against his chest, your hand ferociously intertwined with his. His heart beat firmly against your back.

“You can do this,” he whispered into your ear.

“Give me your other hand, dear,” the midwife said. You did so and she guided it under the water, preparing you to feel and catch. “Push.”

“Push! Push!” Jinx cried, her little fists pumping and bopping in the air madly.

Gritting your teeth, you did just that. A sound you didn’t know you were capable of making burst from your lungs. When the air ran out, you slumped against Silco’s chest.

“Breath in,” the midwife demanded. You did so. “Push!”

You did again, a roar ripping from your chest. A roar that ended in a surprised yip as something into your hand.

“Again,” the midwife demanded.

And you complied, baring down with everything you had. With all the might and tenacity and power your body could exert. Another battle cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, and a solid weight slid into your hand. You ripped your other hand from Silco’s grip, and pulled a wriggling newborn from the water.

“It’s a boy!” Jinx yelled, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Her brother’s face squidged, and his pink mouth opened in an announcing wail. You joined in and pulled the babe to your chest. Silco went very still behind you, scarcely breathing. Then his hands appeared over yours, cradling the baby at your chest. Like on the night you’d taken in Jinx, he pulled his legs up around you both and held tight.

Later, once the placenta had passed (something Jinx was equally horrified and enthralled by) you were helped out of the tub, and cleaned. The midwife tied off the babe’s umbilical cord, and once some time passed, you watched with an incredibly full heart as Silco severed it.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen the expression on your partner’s face. A soft, careful, wonderous thing. Then it hit you all at once. You were watching Silco fall in love. The notion took your breath away and fresh tears welled in your eyes. Jinx clung to you, and you to her.

“Thank you for being with me, Jinx. It helped.”

The girl beamed up at you, holding on tighter.

“I think it is your turn for a shower, sir,” the midwife said, twisting off the umbilical nub.

Silco watched her hands like a hawk as she did. He slid in once she finished, and wrapped him in a blanket Jinx had decorated. It was a small thing, but you caught the tremor in his hands. Keeping Jinx tucked against your side, you came to stand next to him.

“He’ll be here when you get out of the shower,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah! Go get the baby juice off you!” Jinx ordered.

Silco’s expression of awe turned to one of bemusement as he glanced at your daughter.

“Yes. I suppose I should.”

Your own hands shook a bit as you gathered your son – your son! You wondered if the shock would wear off – and ushered Jinx to follow the midwife out of the bathroom.

With no small amount of effort, your body, beyond sore and exhausted, climbed into bed. The baby cooed and nuzzled and fussed against your chest as you settled into the pillows and duvet. Jinx climbed in on the opposite side, and snuggled close.

“He’s already sleeping!”

“It’s hard work being born. Don’t you remember?” you chuckled.

Jinx laughed, “No!”

A small smile curled the midwife’s mouth as she snapped her bag shut. She turned to you and bowed her head.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyes on your boy. Then you lifted them to hers, and said again, “And thank you.”

She nodded again, horns catching the light in the room.

“It was my honor.”

She gave you and the baby one last cursory check over, and took her leave.

A few moments after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Sevika stuck her head in.

“Ogre!” Jinx cried. “I gotta brother!”

Even Sevika’s presence couldn’t dampen Jinx’s mood.

Silco’s lieutenant grunted, and stepped over to the bed. She stayed at a distance though, craning her neck to peer down at you and the baby.

“Yep. That’s a baby. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Sevika.”

Behind her, Silco emerged from the foggy bathroom in a fresh pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sevika tilted her strong chin in his direction and he nodded back.

“I’ll leave you all to it then,” she said.

Her poncho twirled as she spun back to leave. As she and Silco crossed paths, a metal finger tip whipped out from beneath the red fabric, and poked his bare belly. He jolted and shuddered. He sneered at her, but she just snickered and slipped out of the room.

Silco shook his head, damp hair beginning to curl at the ends. He rounded the bed, and climbed in, sandwiching Jinx between your bodies. He leaned over the girl’s head and kissed you.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Jinx pipped.

You and Silco exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” he added.

Immediately, Jinx began rattling off all her suggestions.

Before a name could be decided, you fell asleep. Jinx followed shortly after; her plump cheek pressed against your shoulder. Gingerly, Silco lifted the baby from your arms, and brought him to his bare chest. The boy tensed, and then melted, a small wispy sigh leaving him.

Silco melted, too; a foreign, near indescribable softness filling him up. He brought his hand to the boy’s back, its length and width nearly covering all of him. His son was so small.

His son. His son.

Emotions gripped him so intensely he nearly choked.

Elation, love, fear.

Grief.

There was grief that his child was born technically as a citizen of Piltover. But that anguish was small compared to the other one that had been tucked away in the scar tissue of Silco’s heart ever since you had told him of the pregnancy. A pain that he hated he harbored.

The secret grief was that Vander wasn’t here to see this. The grief that his Brother had ruined any chance of participating in this milestone. The grief of Vander’s death (justified though it was) was scratched open as Silco’s son lay on his heart. The grief that, had things gone differently, Silco would’ve named the boy after his Brother.

“Sil.”

Silco’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice. Your beautiful, exhausted, beautiful face shone up at him. There was a smile on your lips that he wished to taste, so he leaned over Jinx’s head again and pressed his mouth to yours.

“I told you you could do it,” he whispered leaning back. You smiled and nodded wearily.

The baby grunted and shifted against Silco’s chest, and he pet the back of his head so, so softly. It broke your heart into a million pieces, and then they jumped right back together. Your eyes slid back up to your partner’s profile.

You felt his grief, because it was yours, too.

“I know, Silco,” you whispered. He looked over to you. Jinx snored softly between. “I wish it had been different, too.”

Silco’s eyebrow dropped, and his lips softened. He glanced down at the baby on his chest, and chuckled ruefully.

“I truly don’t know what to name him.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. You sat in silence for a while, listening to your children breath. Jinx’s raspy breaths and the baby’s snuffling. It was music to your ears. You would never tire of hearing it.

Just as you were about to doze again, you felt Silco’s energy shift. Eyes sharpening onto him, you watched as he first gently ran his fingers over Jinx’s freckled cheek. Then, so carefully, he lifted the baby from his chest so he could look at his small face.

“You and your sister will have better than we did,” he promised. “Me and your mother will give you a nation.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered open and closed, the bud of his mouth stretching into what looked like a small smile. Your throat tightened horribly, and you tucked your nose into Jinx’s crown.

When you were sure you could speak without choking, you lifted your head and said, “We promise.”

I hope part two scratched the itch <3 If you enjoy my work and would like to support me (firstly, THANK YOU!) check out my Ko-Fi page!

ko-fi.com/kiki13

#silco #silco fanfic #silco x reader #dad!silco #soft!silco #jinx #big sister jinx #silco x afab!reader #cw: pregnancy #cw: labor #drive by appearance of sevika #sevika

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rafeandonlyrafe · 10 months ago

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tee time

words: 1.5k

warnings: really really overly fluffy, lots of golf talk that idk if its correct yall im not a golfer, rafe squeezes her butt but its not a sexual fic :), lots of kisses omfgggggg these bitches in LOVE (this is a really boring fic im sorry)

“does this look golf-y enough?” you ask rafe as you pout in the mirror, adjusting your skirt again, feeling like your tennis shoes are out of place when you'd usually be wearing heels or sandals.

“baby, we are just playing for fun. you look cute.” rafe says, glancing at his watch.

“should i do my hair differently? pigtails maybe?” you question, twisting your ponytail around your hand.

“baby…” rafe sighs.

“okay, okay.” you raise your hands up. “im done. sorry.” you giggle as you turn to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, having to bend down to where he's sat on the edge of the bed.

“it's okay, you're excited.” rafe says softly, reaching around you to grab the back of your thighs, fingers moving up to your skirt, squeezing your ass.

“i am excited.” you gleam at him. “me and bianca went to putt putt the other day to practice.”

“you're gonna do great, baby.” rafe gives your ass another squeeze before standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the door.

you've been wanting rafe to take you golfing ever since you started your relationship, but usually he'd already have plans with topper or his other country club friends, and you didn't want to intrude.

when rafe offered the other day to let you putt for him, you jumped at the chance.

“im not gonna like, ruin your average right?” you ask as rafe pulls into a parking spot.

“no, baby.” rafe laughs softly. “don't worry.”

“okay.” you smile as he gets out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for you. nobody would ever guess that rafe would be a sweet and caring boyfriend, but he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, and treats you better than you could have ever imagined.

he takes your hand in his as he leads you towards the golf cart, frowning when he realizes you're squinting in the sunlight.

“stay here.” rafe says, allowing you to sit down on his family cart, his clubs already loaded onto the back.

“okay.” you watch as he goes to the truck, jogging to get back to you as he hands you a pair of sunglasses.

“whose are these?” you ask. they look like your style, but you're certain this isn't a pair you own.

“i saw them one day at the mall and thought you'd like them so i bought them.” rafe shrugs. “figured i could keep them in the truck in case you ever forgot yours.”

“raaaafe.” you coo out, pulling him in for a kiss, which he happily accepts.

“ill let you drive once we get further out on the course.” rafe says, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the cart on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, willing to drive with just one hand even though it was harder, needing you close to him as you press your side against his.

rafe pulls up to the first tee, waiting for a moment to feel the wind on his face before he turns to look at you, noting the way your ponytail is being blown slightly eastward.

“give me a good luck kiss for this drive, baby.” rafe says.

you pucker your lips and press a smack against his lips before he grabs a club.

you let out a cheer when rafe hits the ball, but honestly you lost sight of it in the air and even if you watched the whole way, you wouldn't have known if it was good or bad.

“yes.” rafe pumps his fist. “need you out here more often, my good luck charm.” rafe climbs back into the golf cart, taking off towards where his ball landed.

“gonna land this on the green for you, baby.” rafe says with a confident smile, and he does indeed get the ball pretty close to the hole.

you're not sure if cheering is generally accepted on the golf course, but you can't help but hype your man up.

“alright.” rafe pulls the cart to a stop near the ball. “it's on you, princess.”

you step out of the cart, looking at your options before grabbing what you assume is the putter, only because it looks similar to clubs used for mini golf.

“if you don't make it the first time, that's okay.” rafe says, removing the flag from the hole. “i won't be mad.”

“mkay.” you look at the distance to the hole, no silly obstacles in the way like there was in your practice.

you give it the ball a tap, frowning with disappointment when it stops rolling only a foot away from the hole.

“that was actually so good!” rafe says, a smile on his face. “just a little more power and it would have been in for sure.”

you nod, taking a breath before lining up your next shot, letting out a scream and jump in the air as the ball falls into the hole.

“that's par, baby!” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, twirling you around.

“oh my god, we crushed that!” you cheer.

rafe sets you down carefully, but not before pressing a kiss against your lips.

“wanna drive us to the next tee?” he asks, laughing when you enthusiastically nod. rafe drives you literally everywhere, so you haven't been behind the wheel of anything in months.

rafe retrieves the ball and places the flag back in the hole before getting into the passenger side, a smile on his face as you stick your tongue barely out between your lips in concentration.

rafe loves the look on your face so much that he insists you drive for the rest of the holes. you're tired by the time you reach the last hole, but don't wanna disappoint rafe by not putting.

“you okay, princess?” rafe asks, running his hand over your ponytail, smoothing it down comfortingly.

“mhm.” you nod, but rafe can see that you're getting sleepy, no doubt ready to go home and take a nap.

“how about we do this putt together, yeah?” he asks.

“yes, please.” you pout out your lower lip, rafe leaning forward to capture it between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing and kissing you.

rafe stands, moving slowly as you get yourself in position before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to grip onto the stick over your hands. he controls the swing and you watch, your back pressed up against his chest, as it falls into the hole.

“perfect job, baby.” rafe says, snuggling into your shoulder, giving your neck a quick kiss before allowing you to go back to sitting on the cart. you slide over to the passenger seat as rafe returns.

he chuckles gently before driving you back towards the clubhouse, thumb gently stroking against your upper arm as you lean against him, tucked into his side.

“someone is sleepy.” rafe says.

you let out a yawn. “it's not my fault you like to golf early in the day. why can't tee time be after like noon or something?”

“i usually golf at this time because you're still asleep and i don't like to be away from you.” rafe says, parking the cart and leaving it to be put properly away by the workers, needing to get you back home and in bed.

the sun has been covered by clouds, so when you climb back into rafes truck, you take your sunglasses off and place them in the center console for next time you forget yours.

you struggle to keep your eyes open for the short drive back to tanneyhill, not wanting to fall asleep in the truck. you know rafe will drive around aimlessly to not disturb your nap, even if he's tired himself. one time he drove around for an entire night just because he said you looked so peaceful sleeping he couldn't bare to move you.

“home, darling.” rafe says, yours eyes fluttering open, not having gone fully asleep yet but the soothing driving by rafe and hum of the engine had your eyelids drooping.

rafe carries you inside and up the stairs, getting out a pair of pajamas for you to change into despite it being midday.

“how long do you expect me to nap for?” you giggle, changing quickly with the last bit of energy you have left.

you sit down on the bed, knowing you should take your ponytail out and brush through your hair, but your arms don't feel like lifting.

you don't even need to ask rafe before he's moving, carefully taking out your elastic before grabbing the brush off your vanity that he set up in his room not long after you started dating.

he brushes gently through your hair, getting out any tangles that accumulated throughout the golf trip.

you crawl up the bed as rafe changes into a pair of sweatpants, going without a shirt as he sees your eyes closing, struggling to stay awake until he's in next to you.

you snuggle instantly into his chest the second hes underneath the covers, sighing happily when you feel his warmth.

“goodnight, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”

with your last waking moment, you manage to mutter those three words back to him.

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minhosimthings · 11 months ago

Text

Sample Session || 18+

Synopsis: In which you ask your boyfriend for a semen sample

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader, non idol au

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (not for you at all) masturbation (male), spit as lubricant, praise, degradation, swearing, rough dom Sunghoon, sub!reader, reader wears pink lingerie, boob fixation, dirty talk eyyy, collecting semen in that tube because we medical students, mentions of Yunjin from Le Sserafim and Gaeul from IVE

A/N: this is my submission for @deluluriddhi's 500+ followers event which you can find here! Had a shit ton of fun writing this though so here you go babies!

Being a doctor has its advantages.

You get to help people, you get a shit ton of money (student debt sucks but hey), you get a hot boyfriend, you can correctly pronounce and know the meaning of choledocholithiasis.

Did I mention hot boyfriend?

Park Sunghoon. Possibly the hottest and the only surgeon-in-training you'd ever want to have inside of you all day long.

Of course the walls still speak of the times he railed you in the room where they kept the crp training dolls, but we don't speak about that anymore.

But one of the greatest advantages of having a Park Sunghoon, as you soon found out, was that he proved useful in a quest.

For a particularly awkward thing.

"Sperm samples?" Yunjin gasped, almost spilling her coffee on you, "we have to collect sperm samples?"

"For the last time, yes." Gaeul groaned, massaging her temples, Yunjin had been asking the same thing since the past hour.

"How on earth are we going to get semen samples?" Yunjin asked, turning to you for some reason.

"Alright ladies, time to seduce some men." Gaeul laughed, sipping her frappuccino.

"Y/N already seduced one." Yunjin groaned, deflating her body onto the table, "Hey, get some for us too will you?"

"Number 1, we need to have different samples, and number two how the hell am I gonna ask him?" You quizzed the girls, who looked dumbfounded.

"Maybe..you know." Yunjin began, and you realised she had the same face on as she did whenever she saw the extremely phallic design of the law building at your college, "Just do the oogey-boogey with him."

Gaeul's frappucino can spit out her nose, as she cackled loudly, garnering the attention of many people in the cafe.

"The oogey-boogey YUNJIN WHAT?" Gauel kept laughing, holding her stomach tightly, "Is that your way of saying that Y/N needs to seduce Sunghoon into somehow giving her his semen?" She said, when her laughter died down.

"Absolutely not!" You protested. The idea of seducing your boyfriend was...nice to think of but to actually have a practical session? You would have rather jumped off a cliff.

"Just ask him today, we have a holiday tomorrow, so incase the oogey-boogey indeed does oogey-boogey you have semen! Simple."

Gaeul's frappucino was subjected to being ejected out of her nose again, as she rolled over in fits of laughter.

This wasn't you.

This definetly wasn't you, Sunghoon thought.

His mind was racing at a hundred kilometres per the second, and his bag full of pastries for you was abandoned on the floor as soon as he saw what lay in front of him.

A reward for his hard work today? The thought of what he had done to deserve you was running a lap through his brain. You, in your pretty pink lace, with white trimmings, and pearls on your neck, the ones he bought you of course.

"Well hello there, gorgeous." He said, grabbing your waist in his arms, as he always did when he got back home. But this time, with a different purpose.

"All dressed up for me today?" He quizzed you, placing a kiss at the nape of your neck. It was pathetic how much the simple action made your hole so wet.

Sunghoon toyed with the pretty pink lace of your bra, kissing up and down your collarbone. God had you changed your perfume? It seemed so intoxicating to him. Your hands came to rest on his shoulder, as you nibbled the tip of his ear a bit, which made his dick throb inside his pants.

"Come on." He mumbled through his kisses, lifting you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist, which you did promptly.

The one thing that Sunghoon would have never expected was the various medical equipment that lay on your bed.

"Y/N." He glanced at you suspiciously, putting you down on your feet, "what's all this?"

You awkwardly cleared your throat and rushed over to the bed, picking up a tiny test tube and shoving it in your boyfriend's hands.

"Alright so I have an assignment and I need your help." You said, a bit more seriously than you had wanted to.

"Do you need me to get you pregnant or something?" Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darkening, "Cause I won't say no."

"Actually it's not that."

"Then what is it, princess?"

"Canihaveyoursemensampleplease." You mumbled, or more properly, to say, rapped.

"Y/N, proper sentences please?"

Sighing heavily to yourself, you gulped and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon again, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his pink lips.

"I need a semen sample for an assignment." You mumbled into his ear, albeit a but louder this time. Sunghoon smirked into your neck.

"That's it?" He asked, a cocky smile spreading on his face. His baby, needs a sample from him? He thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Yeah...it's fine if you say no though!" You panicked, looking at him with widened eyes. But Sunghoon only chuckled again and raised your chin to his level with his finger.

"How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?" He said, guiding you over to the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Sunghoon settled in nicely between the sheets, while you awkwardly sat at the edge, handing the tube to him.

"Don't want to join me baby?" Sunghoon asked, taking off his belt and his trousers, and pulling you in for a sudden kiss, by grabbing your face with his hands.

"You're a medical student too Hoon, you know I can't." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Alright, but do me a favour. Hold the tube in place for me will you?" He handed the tube back to you, and you bit your lip. Holding it in place. In other words, bending over to make Hoon see your cleavage.

"If that's what'll get you off, then fine." You grumbled, although your panties were getting wetter by the second at the idea.

Sunghoon leaned against the bedframe, relaxing into the sheets, holding his throbbing cock with one hand. He began to jerk off hard, his hand rising to the tip of the cock, where more fat drops of precum accumulate, feeling the alcohol of your perfume take over the body,

"that what you want, princess?” he spits on his cock and starts jerking off again while he speaks his hand doesn't stop, slow movements, up and down as if he wanted to feel the familiar sensation of your walls clenched around him. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, at the sight of seeing your tits, lined perfectly in your lingerie. The sight of it made him go mental.

His hand never abandons his cock, squeezing, going up and down without losing rhythm. Sunghoon began to feel signs of orgasm so he reduced the speed of his hand, waiting for what will come next.

Sunghoon thinks while squeezing his cock tightly, holding by the base his fingers massage the balls, he climbs his hand slowly and passes his thumb over the head of the cock dripping precum, spreading and with his eyes glazed, little moans escaping his lips. Sunghoon sits more centered on the bed, drops of sweat run down his hair, dripping and turning a trail around his neck, chest and belly, his body is so sensitive to touch that the drops of water seem to scratch while the sheets seem to hug him.

"Fuck—im close." He whimpered, eyes rolling back as the knot in his stomach broke and the next moment, his hand was drenched in cum, and you were holding a test tube filled with what you needed.

"Shit" Sunghoon fell back on the bed, while you happily inserted the semen into your carrier so that it stayed safe. You crawled promptly into the bed with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you so much Hoonie, I had no idea how I was going to get the-"

"What about my payment princess?" Sunghoon's whispered growl in your ear left you crumbling.

His touch left your skin burning in desire for more and before you could even catch a breath his hands grabbed your legs and you find yourself wrapped around his waist. Your hair was soft between his fingers and as he gently pulled it, you let out a little groan.

"Hoonie–" you whimpered, feeling a blush creep up to your cheeks.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

Holding your waist firmly, Sunghoon flipped you over onto the bed with a rough thump, making you moan at the very sensation of his biceps touching your body.

"So wet for me already?" Sunghoon chuckled, removing your panties slowly, "You're so adorable."

"Shut up." You groaned, feeling embarrased again, "Hoonie, we ran out of condoms, maybe we should-"

"You're on birth control right?" Sunghoon pressed a kiss to your neck, making you mewl when his tip slightly touched your pussy, "You're not leaving this bed until the sheets are either drenched or until you've fainted."

His voice was rough as he lined himself up with your entrance as you panted in anticipation, fingers digging into his back when he finally entered you, moaning deeply at the feeling of your walls starting to clench around him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Sunghoon fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praises.

Discomposed, his voice thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Sunghoon rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs.

“That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned ass in quick succession.

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” Sunghoon looked at you with pity, "Is it too much for your pathetic pussy?"

“I can-fuck, I can—handle it.” you whimpered. You clearly, could not handle it.

His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

"Hoon-I—ah FUCK!"

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

That unlocked something inside of him. While he still held you, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could reach, he slammed into you, forcing your small body to jerk in his arms with each thrust. He grunted and moaned, nearly panting, as he crammed himself inside of you.

It doesn’t take long for your next orgasm to build up, releasing it with a silent cry as you unintentionally dig your fingers into Sunghoon's back causing him to groan in your ear in pleasure. He keeps his thrusts consistent as you begin to leak around his cock and onto the blanket beneath you. There’s no doubt you’ll have to change the bedding later.

All you could do was bury your head in his chest until with one more thrust, he pushed into you, unloading pump after pump of cum. Afterwards, he slumped down, slowly dragging his cock out of your stuffed cunt, leaving you empty and internally screaming at the intoxication of the burn.

"Shit-" Sunghoon plopped down on the bed, next to you. Both of your chests rose and fell in unison, as you managed to steeply catch your breath.

A moment of calm silence arose before-

"Does your professor need any more sampler or...?" Sunghoon asked, eliciting a laugh out of you.

"Nope, just the one." You chuckled at his unseriousness as he pulled you in for cuddles.

"You're changing the sheets this time Hoon."

"Damn it."

Bonus

"So you did the oogey-boogey with him?"

"Yunjin!"

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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 4 months ago

Text

Remade (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

Warnings: I somehow managed to write fluff with goo!Sauron, I guess? You hold and kiss goo!Sauron. You suffer a minor injury by goo!Sauron. You get animals and one person killed to feed goo!Sauron. Heavy make out and implied smut (with non-goo!Sauron). Can you tell I love writing the words ‘goo!Sauron’?

Note: Yet another Sauron x evil!reader fic cause I can’t stop apparently. Can be read as a prequel to the others or as a stand alone.

“Oh, my love,” you breathe out, “what have they done to you?”

What have they done indeed. For you are speaking with the one that is your love, your husband, your very soul—but if he hears, or even understands, he cannot show it. What’s left of him has no mouth no speak, no arms to wrap around you at long last, after an eternity of separation. What your tearful eyes are looking at is a black, amorphous mass, no larger than the heart hammering within your chest, writhing helplessly on the ground.

But it is him. Of that, you are certain.

When you felt his presence again, it was so faint you thought you were dreaming it. Nothing but a glimmer of darkness in the back of your mind, weakly calling out in agony. But as you searched your feelings, reaching out with every sliver of power you could muster, you found that it was real.

You found him.

Long had you travelled since, guided by the unseen thread connecting you to him. Until at last, it had led you into the heart of a mountain where his presence was so strong, it felt as though his skin was beneath your fingertips.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. Not until a sharp squeal had caught your ear, and you had found the source of it to be a rat being devoured into the blackness of a small, but lethal predator. At once, you had understood, and nearly fallen into despair. But in the end, you reminded yourself—he has endured. You have been reunited. That is all that matters.

Slowly, you kneel at his side. The mass ripples like the surface of water under a light breeze, and it gives you hope that, somehow, your presence is known to him. A sole rivulet of him begins to slip towards you, painfully slow. No wonder he has been in this state for so long, helpless to nourish himself lest some unfortunate creature stumbles upon him in the dark.

“I am here,” you whisper as you reach out. “I am—”

The moment your fingertips touch his cold, viscous form, black tendrils of him latch onto your hand, greedily clawing at your wrist. You gasp at the unexpected force of it, the searing sting where the liquid-like matter solidifies to dig sharp needles into your skin. Beads of your blood emerge, and he swallows them into himself with hunger.

You stare in awe as he grows ever so slightly larger. A twisted part of you is elated to be the object of his craving once more, even if he is trying to devour you whole. Especially then.

Unfortunately, that would not do in the long-term.

You shush him gently, caressing him with your free hand as though he were a purring kitten. Instantly, a tendril of him latches to one of your fingers, but you give him a firm squeeze.

“Shh!” you say sharply, fingers sinking into the soft surface of him as you reach out with your mind as well, nudging at his. “Easy, love,” you coo. “Easy. You know this hand. You know me.”

His mind is a mess—mad with hunger, alight with rage, lost to despair. But you keep caressing it with yours, tenderly bringing to the surface his memories of you. His love. His wife.

His grip on you weakens then. He deflates, withdrawing himself from your wounds, and you are left with a soft, pliant mass, which you delicately scoop into the palm of your hands. He rocks slightly against your skin, almost as if caressing it—and through your bond, the ghost of his regret reaches out to you.

“Do not fret, my love,” you murmur, smiling gently. “All will be well now.”

And so you go to dwell in the forest. At first, you bring him small things, no larger than he is himself—insects and rats, the occasional snake. The venomous ones seem to be quite nourishing, aiding in his growth more visibly than the other animals you feed him. Still, the progress is slow, and could not be endured without a great deal of patience and love. Fortunately, you lack neither.

Days turn to weeks, perhaps months. You don’t keep count, nor do you miss the comforts of the Elven realm where you had dwelt for years, waiting on the day your husband might return. A tent and your skills are more than enough when you finally have your love by your side, even if he is... temporarily different. You always keep him close, cradling him protectively at night and speaking loving words to him throughout the day. And in his own way, with ripples of his form and distant echoes of his slowly recovering mind, he holds onto you.

Eventually, he grows large enough for you to embrace at night, and develops a certain manner of breathing that feels as though you’re resting your head upon his chest. Its rise and fall is odd, ragged and irregular, but it brings you great joy nonetheless. With time, you bring him larger game, watching with grim amazement as deers and wild boars are slowly devoured into the beloved black mass that still is your husband. After a time, he grows nearly limb-like extensions, allowing him to more easily crawl around or reach out, and you often wake to find yourself in the closest thing to an embrace he can manage in this state. It never fails to make your heart soar, and he shudders as you press loving kisses to the parts of his surface closest to you.

So the days pass, until it’s time. Between your own instinct and the shape of his thoughts, not quite spoken but slightly more focused through your bond, you know he’s strong enough to finally regain himself completely.

But for that, he will need something more than an animal.

It’s easy enough to stop the first wagon you see passing by, acting confused and lost and asking for direction. The woman at the reins, though half-drunk, is even gracious enough to offer that she give you a ride to the closest village. You decline, of course. Your purpose was never to climb into the wagon yourself.

It was to halt it long enough for your husband to slither inside from the back.

It’s barely a few seconds after the woman has bid you a good journey and gone on her way that the wagon halts yet again—this time, with a piercing scream from its occupant. The wagon shakes, its horse breaking loose and galloping away.

Then, silence settles. From your angle, you can’t see inside. Your feet are glued in place, your breath barely there as you watch and wait. You’ve been waiting so long that now, so close to the end of your suffering, each moment feels neverending.

Finally—finally—a man emerges from the back of the wagon. He takes his time putting one bare foot, then the other, down onto the snow-covered ground. He takes in his surroundings, as though opening his eyes to the world for the first time. Then his gaze lands on you, and his lips curl into a smile filled with relief.

And you know, you’ve always known, but it feels as though you only then realize that this is not a man. Or an Elf, or a Dwarf, or any other being of less than godly nature. It is him. Remade into a form with eyes, and hands, and flesh, same as your own.

Your feet carry you towards him blindly as you stare and stare, almost unable to believe that you are finally standing close enough to touch once more.

“I would not blame you,” he says, his unfamiliar voice rough from lack of use, “if it was you who failed to recognize me now.”

But you know it’s absurd. His appearance may not be as it used to—his hair is shorter, darker, his cheeks covered in stubble, his features nothing like the ones you knew—but there is no form he could take you would not recognize, not as long as your mind still served you. His had been broken, unamde, when he had begun to feed on you as he would any other stranger. None of that matters now.

“This is... different,” you murmur, greedily taking in every inch of him that isn’t covered by the rags he’s wearing. His chest is partially bared to your eyes, and both of your breaths shudder as you lay your hand over his new heart, the smattering of hair there delightfully rough beneath your fingertips. You gaze there for a moment, mesmerized by the sight, then lift your eyes to meet his. The curls that fall in his face are so endearing your chest aches as you brush one aside.

“I love it,” you breathe out. “I love you.”

A dam that had been built over years of longing shatters at your words, and your lips meet his furiously in a long-awaited kiss. His looks may have changed, but his taste is the same, and so is the desire that overwhelms you to the point of insanity. You’re falling into each other, clawing at each other, crumbling to the ground in an unceremonious tangle of limbs. The snow is cold against your back, but your husband is warm and solid above you, and your world becomes reduced to him and him alone.

You whimper when he suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gazes down at you with raw yearning.

“You came for me,” he says, breathless with elation.

“Of course I did,” you retort, nearly indignated. As if you would do anything but. He goes to kiss you again, but you wrap a hand around his throat and hold him back. Mischief dances in your eyes as he glares and you scold, “And in return, you nearly ate me.”

His eyes darken, and you almost moan at the sight alone.

“I still wish to,” he growls, prying your hand away from his neck and diving in to devour yours instead. “All those years I hungered...” he speaks between ravenous licks and bites of your skin, making you writhe and whimper beneath him, “to feel you once more... even when I could no longer remember... what it was I hungered for...” He lifts his head, wild eyes boring into yours as he lays his hand upon your chest, relishing your heartbeat as you had done his before. “My love,” he pleads, voice trembling with need, “join me in flesh. Let me feast upon yours. Devour mine. Remind me what it is... to feel.”

The last time you felt such unbridled joy was so long ago, you can’t even remember it. And either way, you doubt it held a candle to the bliss bursting within your soul in this moment. This is all you ever wanted. This makes every single moment of torment, past or future, worth it.

“Feel me, love,” you offer most sweetly, your lips brushing his with the last words you speak before you consume each other whole, “Feel everything.”

Next fic with same reader -> Tides of fate

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power

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juletheghoul · 4 months ago

Text

regrets

a/n: I cannot seem to stop myself from taking these amazing requests and going on a rampage because Marcus Acacius is my literal muse at this point. I bought my tickets for the movie and I am not going to know how to fucking act in that theatre. I sort of ran with this request, and inevitably it turned into feelings! This un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistakes and errors are mine! Hope you enjoy what I came up with! (this is before the last chapter)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, talk of war, Marcus is a soft boi at heart and he has some regrets about being a hoe in his younger days, *feelings*, also he takes a lil tumble but he's fine! Marcus gets wine-drunk, but he's still in control of his faculties, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His face lit up, brighter and happier than you’d seen him, maybe ever.

You smile to yourself from your place behind him, basking in the warmth of his mirth. The visitor had come unannounced but more welcome than any before him. An old, dear friend from his days as a mere footsoldier in the Roman army. Marcus opened his arms to the man, ushering him into his home with an almost uncharacteristic warmth–to anyone who didn’t truly know him.

“Gods, but it has been years has it not Marcus? Since our days on the march?” The man asks him, a tired sigh on his breath.

“Indeed it has. An age, we were mere boys then.” Marcus drains his wine and holds the cup out, you are already there, pouring just as it reaches you.

“Troublesome boys, wicked things were we not? We seemed to attract all kinds of mischief.” The man laughs, and Marcus joins, although his laughter is laced with a groan, peppered with shame.

“Do not remind me, we were terrors.” Marcus hides his face behind his cup, drinking with his eyes downcast and it’s that aversion that piques your interest. Visions of a younger, wilder Marcus fill your mind's eye, what had he done? The man laughs, and you keep your vigil behind your Dominus.

“I hold the memories dear, even the unsavoury ones.” The man raises his cup, and Marcus bows his head, agreeing. “Wish I had kept the looks of my youth as you have old friend.” They laugh together, clinking their cups and remembering things they do not say out loud.

The night wears on, and they drink until the hour grows late. When they begin to yawn, Marcus insists the man stays.

“Girl, see to the preparations of a room and then come tend to me.” He speaks slowly, carefully.

“Yes Dominus.” You smile, despite yourself.

When you walk into his room, he sits on his bed, staring at nothing.

“Dominus, are you well?” His eyes lock on you, he sways a little, only a little.

“Too much wine, I will feel this in the morning.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as you approach. “I should have known.” There is no anger in him, only a resigned acceptance.

“If I may be so bold Dominus, it seemed you were enjoying yourself.” You bring the basin over and dip a fresh piece of linen, his eyes track your movements.

“I saw a happiness in you that I have not seen before, I would see it more often if I had any say.” He tilts his face up to yours, and you cleanse it softly, smiling at the way his eyes close.

“Would you now, Girl, do you think me unhappy?” His voice is soft, but gravelly. It awakens the parts of your body that always awaken for him. It worsens when his hands land on your hips, pulling you to stand between his spread legs.

“No Dominus, well, at times yes. Not unhappy per say, but not the way I saw you tonight.”

“I am happy, Girl. I am happier than I have been in ages.” His hands rub at your hips, sliding down to grab at your ass.

“It fills my heart with joy to hear that.” You run your fingers through his hair, admiring the flush in his cheeks, the sparkle of candlelight in his eyes.

“And you? Are you happy, Girl?” He holds onto you, eyes locking onto yours and it feels bigger than it should, the question on his tongue.

“Yes Dominus, I am.” A long, pregnant moment passes and the tension rises, swelling bigger and bigger. Your heart races and then he rises, or, he tries to.

Water from the basin had splashed onto the floor, and he slips. His eyes widen with shock as he lands on his backside on the floor at your feet.

He sits in shock, his tunic pooling high on his thighs and it’s almost like someone else’s voice comes out of your mouth, a sharp bark of laughter comes out before you clap your hands to your mouth.

He stares up at you, the shock of the fall, the shock of your laughter, the wine, the moment—he laughs; you both laugh. Deep, loud belly laughs fill the room until tears fall from your eyes, until he holds his stomach. Any fear, any tension is gone with the crinkle of his eyes and the rare glimpse of his dimple.

“Oh Gods, I am of a form.” He gets it out eventually, smiling wide from his place on the floor.

“Apologies Dominus—“ the ache in your belly is so great you hold onto his bed. He waves away your apology, and carefully rises. “I did not mean to laugh—“

“Peace girl, it was something to laugh at.” He stands, careful of the offending spill and removes his tunic. “The sound of your laughter is welcome, always. I do not think you cruel.”

You don’t know how to respond, the wine has brought down his guard and made him something open, something honest and human–nothing like he is when he is too long away from the battlefield, nothing like he is when his station in this life pulls at him.

“I have not seen my friend in many years, it was nice to speak to him, to bask in the memories of my younger days. Even the ones I’d rather forget.” You let him speak, the novelty of his reminiscing making you smile as you prepare his bed for sleep.

“It was worth the price I will pay in the morning.” You bite your lip, the questions–the curiosity eat away at you as you move around the room, blowing out a few of the candles.

“I can see the turmoil, Girl, ask and I will alleviate.” He smiles, sitting on his bed.

“Apologies Dominus, I wish to know what mischief you sought out, or rather, sought you out? I cannot picture you a terror.” You take the basin away and he lets out a huff of laughter.

“Do not lie to me, Girl. You have seen my dark moods, I am a terror often.” He waves away the expression of shock, “You know my meaning. In truth I can be brutal, I know this, but it is in battle. In my younger days, on the march I was unruly. I found it hard to follow commands, so sure of myself–to my detriment–that I knew better, that I was wiser than those above my station. I paid for it and learned, grew wise but in those early days, we were rebellious.” He smiles, fondness and the ghosts of his past fresh in his mind.

You finish your duties as he speaks but are loathe to leave him, so you come closer, feigning at straightening out his sheets and fussing at his bed as he speaks.

“I was also cruel.” The smile morphs then, into something ashamed.

“Cruel? I do not believe it Dominus–” He raises a hand and your speech dies.

“I was, Girl. Exceedingly cruel, to women. I broke many a heart, took the virginity offered without a care and left them without so much as a word.” He shuts his eyes tight then and the playful, cheerful mood is lost. “I was not concerned with their feelings, I cared not about their honour, I simply took, and left like the thief I was.” He stares at his hands and although it was true, it had been cruel of him, it was the way most soldiers were. No right, no wrong, just the way of this world.

“Do you regret it, Dominus?” You stand before him again, the same tableau as before.

“Yes, I do, Girl. I regret the hurt I caused, the selfishness of youth.”

“That is enough then, I think. That you feel it this deeply, that you would change it if you could, that is enough. You need torture yourself no more, Dominus.” Your palm cups his face and he leans into it with a pained expression for a moment before his arms wrap around your waist. His face nuzzles against the valley between your breasts and you feel the way he breathes in your scent.

“Stay with me.” He pulls at your tunic, lifting it up and off in one swift motion before pressing kisses to your skin. There is a desire shining in his eyes. For your body, yes, but there are memories he is rewriting with you now, something kinder, something infused with more want, with love—the thought pops up and you brush it away.

“Do you not desire sleep Dominus? You had said the wine–oh–” His mouth takes your nipple in a steady suck, pulling a soft moan from your lips, and any and all concerns about his state out of your head.

He pulls away, flattening his tongue against the bud before moving to the next.

“No amount of wine could dampen my desire for you, Girl. Shall I stop?” He watches you, eyes locked as he takes the other nipple in his mouth and you shake your head no. His teeth bite, the little shock of pain heightens the pleasure and your fingers grip his hair harder than you mean to but it only makes him moan into your skin as he soothes with his tongue.

Slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, the desire for him so great it makes you ache. A sharp, hollow pain, like hunger pangs for his gift, for his body, for his love something whispers again, and again you ignore it.

“God’s Girl, you bring out a madness in me–” He pulls you down, his kiss so feral it almost hurts. Teeth clicking while you taste his wine-drenched tongue. You move to straddle him but you barely manage to sit before you find yourself on your back in the bed you’d just prepared.

His kiss is all-consuming, it is contagious–it pulls you into the depths of his madness. When he pulls away, you’re almost disoriented.

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, Girl, let me see what’s mine.” You bite your lip, skin on fire as you obey. He kneels between your spread legs, hand slipping down to palm himself as he watches you slip your hand down towards the silky hair at the juncture of your thighs. “Spread it open, I would see how wet you are.” he strokes himself slowly, eyes glazed as you follow his instructions, spreading yourself wide for his gaze.

It feels depraved in the best way, to have him watch you while he pleasures himself. There is a power flowing through your veins, something sweet and wicked and a boldness grabs hold of you. You dip your fingers low to spread the arousal onto your fingers, scoop some of it up to swirl against your clit.

“This is what I do when you do not call for me, Dominus. I touch myself like this, and think of you.” His hand lands on your knee, holding your leg up as he moans, wantonly at your admission.

“What do you think of Girl? Tell me–” He squeezes at his cock, brow furrowed while his eyes rake over you.

“I think of you taking me Dominus, I think of how good you feel, how big you are, how I can feel you for days, how I want nothing more than for you to come into my chamber and make me yours.” Your fingers speed up, the pleasure heightened by the depravity of it.

“Do you flutter at the thought of me giving you this?” He presses the tip of himself to your entrance, not pushing inside but letting you feel him there.

“Yes–” It’s a pained moan. The blunt tip of him spreads you just enough to tease, it’s an exquisite torture, one that could make you cry with arousal.

“Tell me you want it, tell me you’ll die without it, tell me you want me, Girl.” He leans forward a little, enough to make you chase the relief of him but his grip at your knee moves down to your hip, holding you there. Your fingers almost lose their rhythm. You let out a pitiful whine.

“Tell me, and I’ll give it to you, tell me you want me, tell me–” He begs now, and you nod frantically.

“I need you Dominus, I need you, I will die without you, I beg of you, give me the relief of your body.” Your tone is high, something frantic, something pathetic, something desperate but it soothes something in him.

It’s a tidal wave when he shoves himself inside to the hilt. The climax spreads through every vein, through your fingers and toes through his steady strokes. He falls to cover your body with his, his tongue licking into your mouth, every nerve alight as he moans into your mouth, his cock spilling his own passion deep into your womb within a few seconds.

“God’s above, I, that was–” He breathes hard against your mouth, his eyes darting about your face as you both pulse in and around one another, “I–” He seems a little lost for words. The euphoria is still bright in your body, and so you save him from himself. You pull him down for a kiss, soft and languid as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Shall I return to my chambers Dominus? Or shall I stay?” You push his hair back. The wine has made him forget himself, has made him forget that you are just his Girl, you have to remind him.

For the sake of your poor heart on the morrow.

“Stay.” You nod.

–

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #the general

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hitomisuzuya · 24 days ago

Note

Professor Aventurine and a dumb student who's failing his class.

professor!aventurine x fem!reader. smut. sex toys. creampie.

how we all liking amphoreus? i absolutely love the dinosaurs oml! 🦕 and i am officially saving for castorice.

fortune follows luck, just like it always does. aventurine has always sworn by this statement. it certainly was proving true for him. the good fortune lying next to him on his bed, you, is both an exquisite and delicate treat.

a "tutoring" session turned into you stripped naked with a rabbit vibrator pumping in and out of your sloppy cunt while he grades papers. his gloved hand rubbed your thigh soothingly on occasion when you started to whimper in between your moans.

"tell me, sweetheart, do you remember what i said the very first day of classes?" he asked, casually stroking your inner thigh.

of course you did. you hung on his every word during class, diligently taking notes. you are smart in oh so many ways, however, things just didn't quite connect with you when they needed to. a trait he found adorable despite the fact you are flunking his class.

the rabbit ears set on timed intervals hummed to life, stimulating your throbbing clit as you let out a string of quite frankly adorable moans. twinged with desperation all for him. truly lucky indeed in his humble opinion.

"it's the beggars who know what they truly want," he knew his voice always has such an effect on you. his tone practically told you what he wants from you, his ever present smile reading: you know what to do.

your watery eyes lit up at the prospect of giving aventurine whatever he wants. he rubs your thigh soothingly as you squirm on the bed, the vibrator no longer bullying your sweet spot, sitting still between your walls as the rabbit ears on your clit made them clench around it.

"p-profeseor, are you al-almost done?" your eyes are pleading as you look at him, your shaking fingers pinching your nipples for the stimulation you are craving. he chuckles at how cutely you stumble over your words. "i really, really-oh fuck-," you are starting to whimper, the rabbit ears hit your clit just right. your back arches as you pathetically try and grind your clit on the ears, struggling to nudge the toy into your sweet spot.

you gasp in pleasure as the vibrator started to hum unmoving against your walls. that made something snap inside of you, your words tumbling out of your mouth. "i need you, professor please. please, i can barely stand it. please, fuck me, please!" your lower lip trembles to further convey your desperation.

your begging makes aventurine's cock throb in his pants. he purposely left his clothes on just to tease you further and strengthen your desperation for him. his fingers have been twitching the whole time to stroke and palm his cock to the sounds of your begging.

"such sweet begging, sweetheart," aventurine's honeyed praise made your walls clench tighter on the vibrator. "i promised you my cock when i was finished, but to reward your utter display of smarts, i'll up the ante. and cum inside of you."

your breath hitches in anticipation as aventurine set his pen down. his hypnotic eyes slid over your twitching body as he stood up. your eyes drink the sight of him taking off his clothes, finally getting to lay eyes on his hard cock.

crawling on the bed next to you, aventurine turns off the rabbit vibrator. he is pleased to see the wet mess he'd worked your pussy into as he took the toy out. he has you exactly where he wants you.

you let a moan feeling his leaking cock head pressing on your abused clit. your hips jerk up to grind on it. "i'm so in love with you it hurts professor," you suddenly said, a knee jerk response to feeling your orgasm coil tighter in a whole new way. "please, please cum inside me. i want it so bad."

"so adorable, spilling things to me that i already know," it didn't take a genius to figure out you are in love with him. but damn it, it made his cock harder hearing the verbal confession from you.

you are nearly cumming instantly on his cock as it stretched you apart. you let out a moan like you'd just received something you need but was denied it for years.

"that's my good girl," aventurine groans, shivering as he bottomed out. your fate is all but sealed. your pussy and your heart belong to him. "keep moaning for me just like that," he'd spent long nights fisting his cock imagining how wet and tight you were going to feel, and now he was going to bask in it.

his cock makes almost unholy squelching noises as it pumps in and out of you. pleasure burns white hot behind your eyes as he drove it into your sweet spot. the clutching of your walls makes aventurine lose all the composure and restraint he had in pursuing you.

you just felt too tight and too perfect for him for him not to fuck you raw and senseless until you were drooling.

your breasts bounced in time with his calculated thrusts. he put a hand on the headboard to give him better leverage, his hips all smacking into yours. your fingernails frantically scratch at his skin to ground yourself amidst the dizzying pleasure of his cock fucking into you.

"so big," you mewl, tilting your head up to deliver a submissive kitten lick on his mouth. "your cock feels so good, professor," one of your arms drops from around him, your fingers hastily rubbing your clit. your orgasm is close enough to taste.

"cum for me, my precious little pet," he moans, breathless from how hard his cock pulsed as your pussy sucks it inside you.

that was it took to plunge you over the edge, moans bordering on screams of pleasure as you cum hard on his cock. it is utterly exhilarating for aventurine to feel your pussy begging to milk his cock dry.

he clutched at your waist as his cock emptied inside of you, holding your twitching body still and forcing you to feel every pulse of his cock. "you are all mine now, sweetheart," he tenderly cupped your cheek, mindlessly fucking his cum up inside you.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail imagines #fem!reader #aventurine #aventurine smut #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #modern au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

Text

Handle With Care 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

Note: I'm on a Bucky kick and can't stop myself.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The caller ID flashing on your dashboard display makes you groan. What the hell is Sam calling for? He should be patiently waiting at the venue.

You know even before you answer what the issue is. It's the same as it always is. It can never be about anyone but him.

"Wilson," you answer matter-of-factly, "I know I'm not late."

"Never are," he confirms. "It's not you."

"Oh, I know," you put your blinker on and check the traffic behind you, "you're really going to make me pull a U-ey."

"I know, I'm sorry. Again."

"You know, I never had another job where I had to make sure my co-workers got their asses out of bed," you spin the wheel and your tires squeal on the tarmac.

"Co-workers... dang, I thought we were more than that." You can hear his pout through the phone.

"Me and you, maybe," you drone.

"Hey, he's been trying," he argues.

"Yeah, I know. You think I don't try, Wilson?"

"Look, I'll make it up to you."

"You say that a lot," you shake your head at the road.

"Look, I gotta go. It's my big day," he intones.

"Please, do. Stop worrying about the old man." You insist. "Might not be in the job description, but I'll get it done. As always. See ya soon."

"See ya." He hangs up and your music comes back on. Not for long. You idle at a light and dial out another call.

Bucky's name flashes as you wait for a pick up. Of course, he can't be bothered. On this day of all. You sigh and try two more times as you get closer to his place. Nothing.

You get out and nearly trip out of the strappy heels. Wilson owes you indeed, for more than the personal house call. You teeter up over the curb and grab onto the railing. You climb the concrete steps and pound on the front door of the townhouse.

"Barnes," you holler through. "I know you didn't forget."

You hammer again. You only stop when your fist throbs. You shake out your hands and huff. You stomp and feel the skinny heel bend dangerously. Fuck.

You don't got the tech on you to unlock the keypad, looks like the old-fashioned way will do. You shift your clutch and pull out your nail file. Bastard. You better not break a nail for his reclusive ass.

You go around back and use the file to latch the kitchen window. You know Bucky is his own security but he really should get a proper alarm. You punch the screen in and grab the frame. You haul yourself into your waist and balance there, the ledge pressing on your stomach. The smell of coffee greets you in a bold waft.

You look up as Bucky leans his vibranium palm on the counter and watches you. You snarl and reach out. "A little help?"

He keeps his coffee to his lips and nears, grabbing your forearm to leverage you inside. Your knees touch the counter and you kneel there as you catch your breath. He lets go, watching you over the brim.

"You coulda knocked," he says.

"I did," you slip your legs out from under you. "Loud."

"I was in the shower."

"Great, at least you got that done," you chide.

"Coffee?" He offers as he points to the french press.

"Barnes," you warn with a point. "Please."

You stare at him. He's in a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. His slippers are the sort of plaid that you find in a nursing home. You hold back a growl.

"You know what today is."

"I don't think I should go," he grumbles.

"Are you serious? Don't be a sour puss--" A sudden white flash lands beside you and the rattling purr rumbles against your leg. You pause to pet Alpine as if she heard you deriding her breed. "Not you," you assure her.

"I don't want to ruin it--"

"Barnes, you can put a suit on and sit pretty," you push off the counter and your ankles turn to noodles as you barely keep from a sprain. "Look at me, all dressed up like a prize pig, so go put an apple in your mouth."

He rolls his eyes, "he doesn't need me--"

"Bull," you interject.

You march past him. This is how it is. You can deal with it on missions. That's just how it goes. Most men you work with are obstinate to the point of being another adversary on their own. But outside the job, it's a bit too much.

You go down the hall and slow. It takes a moment to get your bearings. You've never been much further than the front door. You ignore the clutter across the front room floor and charge upstairs.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Bucky stands at the bottom as you stomp up.

You don't answer him. You go into his bedroom. You stop and look around. The bed is made, possibly unslept in. The room doesn't look used much at all. You go to his closet and slide the door open. You find a pair of slacks and a jacket. Tie, shirt, all presentable enough.

He appears in the doorway. You lay everything on the bed.

"Get dressed," you demand.

"I'll call Sam--"

"No, Wilson is busy. It's his day. You wanna know how you're going to ruin it?" You approach him and cross your arms. "By going AWOL. Not today, Barnes. Now, get yourself together."

You strut out and shut the door. You stop outside and call through. "Five minutes."

You continues down to the stairs and idle there. You check your phone. You can make it. Easy. He just needs to get his ass in gear.

When the door opens, you turn to him. His tie is undone. You go to him and grab it, knotting it roughly, not that he would notice.

"You couldn't shave in the shower?" You huff.

"Hey, I can do it," he tries to bat you away.

"Then why didn't you do it twenty minutes ago?" He shrugs and you pull his tie straight. You tug his lapels and straighten his jacket. "And the rest." You flick your fingers toward his face.

He shakes his head and goes into the bathroom. He grabs his comb as you linger and you see him in the mirror dragging the teeth through his thick hair. It's to his collar now. You told him to get a hair cut. He never listens. Not your problem. Well, only for today.

"Damn..."

"Here," you dip into the bathroom and grab the comb. "Just--"

You reach for the tin of gel. You just need him to look somewhat presentable. You part his hair neatly and comb it back behind his head, moving around him to check nothing's out of place. He stares at the floor. You don't want to embarrass him but goddamnit.

"Okay," you pop the cap on and wipe your hands on the towel hanging in the loop. "Let's go."

His eyes stray to the wall and he mopes. You take a breath.

"Barnes, it's for Sam," you say.

"I know," he croaks and heaves. He lifts his head and puts his shoulders straight. "I'll do my best not to fuck this up."

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark simp?#handle with care #drabble #series #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

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notakugelblitz · 6 months ago

Text

FERNANDO • Five Hargreeves x Reader

as everyone seems so sad since the release of season 4, i thought this could help :’)

it takes place during season 3, during Luther and Sloane’s wedding. as you spend your last moments with your siblings in law, you start to have some regrets about the life you could have had with Five.

NO WARNING, all fluff 😊 2341 words

i got inspired by ABBA’s song Fernando and it’s so Five x Y/N related I love it (well this is how I interpret it)

english isn’t my first language so sorry if you spot any mistake

enjoy ☂️

It was only a matter of hours now. You were all staying at the Hotel Oblivion, the last survivors. The Kugelblitz was growing and yet, Sloane and Luther had decided to marry.

While the boys were having a bachelor party before the ceremony, you were wandering the corridors aimlessly.

Ever since you arrived in 2019 with Five, his family quickly became yours. They welcomed you so warmly and trying to save the world twice clearly forged something big. But when you met the Sparrows, the hate that they felt against them seemed rather excessive (apart from Luther of course). Probably due to your age, you felt more mature about it. Seeing Sloane and Ben loosing all of their family pained you grandly.

You even found in Luther’s future wife a friend, which was a surprise but you enjoyed her kindness quite much. Your feet led you to Sloane’s room so unhesitatingly you knocked at her door which was half opened. She answered and smiled as she spotted you.

“Y/N ! Come in !” Sloane said to you, her soon-to-be former Sparrow Academy sister, in a cheerful fashion as she closed the door behind her.

Then she turned to face her once the door was firmly shut. You smiled, noticing the dress Sloane was sewing herself.

“It looks flawless.” you said, pointing at the white dress laying on the bed.

Sloane smiled gently at your comment and walked over to it, caressing the dress lovingly with her hand.

“Thank you … I just hope it fits me.”

“I’m sure it will. Nothing you wear unfits you.”

You chuckled a bit falsely, feeling a pain in your heart but yet you managed to smile. It was the best day of Sloane's life, and probably her last, after all.

She seemed to notice the sadness in your eyes and immediately became concerned as she took a closer look at you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong ? You look … sad.”

You sighed and grabbed a vase, sitting on the chair as you took the flowers out of it. You started to tie the stems altogether to create a crown.

“I am not sad. I am just … seeing you all excited for your wedding … I’ve been there too … ” you let out.

Sloane smiled and sat down on the bed opposite you, watching you make a crown out of the vase’s contents.

“Yes, I am but … I get the impression that you didn’t enjoy yours ?” she said slowly, a hint of suspicion in her voice as she tried to make sense of your comment.

“Oh no, I loved it !” you exclaimed suddenly. “I had the most wonderful wedding. And I believe yours will be just as perfect.”

She smiled genuinely as she heard you say that you enjoyed your wedding.

“Well … I’m relieved to hear that ! For a moment, I thought you’d been married to an arsehole or something !”

“Five is an arsehole indeed, but he is a great man, I can assure you.” you laughed.

You then approached her to check the size of the crown on her head.

“There.”

Sloane smiled as you placed the flower crown on her head carefully. Feeling the weight of it, she looked in the mirror, gently caressing the flowers and admiring the work that had been done on it.

“Thank you, Y/N. It’s beautiful …”

You looked at Sloane’s reflection and surprised yourself with a sort of mothering smile. It suddenly brought you nostalgia and sadness at the same time. Sloane checked over her shoulder, noticing your change of mood, a look of concern once again present on her face.

“Y/N … are you sure you’re okay ?”

You pinched your nose and sighed, trying to avoid some tears from falling. You couldn’t believe how weak your were but the tiredness and the end of the world wasn’t making it easy.

“Five and I married when we were 56. Secretly, as it was forbidden by the … by our employers,” you started to explain.

You checked on her, wanting to know if she was ok with you opening up like this. Her eyes saying like “Go on, I’m listening.” and her hand grabbing yours relieved you suddenly.

“I am 58 now. I just wish I had met him sooner …”

You looked down at your feet. It might sound weird for Sloane as you also had the appearance of a teenager. But still she kept holding your hand, gently rubbing the back of it with her thumb as you spoke, trying to give comfort in any way she could.

“Is that why you’re sad ? Because you wished you’d had more time with Five ?”

“When we got back here, we thought of a well-deserved retirement..” you sighed deeply. “But then he decided to save the world again because he’s addicted to it. And I wouldn’t blame him for that, he spent his life doing so. I just …”

You bit your lips, looking down at her hands, young and soft.

“And you just … want to be able to grow old with him … like normal people who marry and have a family …”

You looked up at Sloane, surprised that she’d understand that easily. You slightly opened your mouth because of the astonishment but shook your head.

“I know that everyone expect me to say that I have no regrets because I had time, unlike you … no offense of course. But coming back in 2019, both of us teenagers again, I thought … it sounds stupid, but I thought we had another chance, you know ? To grow old normally, without any Commission nor Kugelblitz.”

“I get that … you feel like you’ve been robbed.”

You nodded and looked up at her, cupping her cheek with your free hand.

“I shouldn’t bother you with that. Let’s enjoy this night, shall we?”

Sloane seemed to freeze.

“Would you like to be my maid of honour ?” she lets out suddenly.

You arched an eyebrow and smirked.

“I mean … you’re the only friend I’ve got here and … Ben is a dumbass. And a boy.”

“Yeah right … I’d be honoured.” you chuckled.

Without warning, Sloane hugged you tightly, resting her chin upon your shoulder. This felt good actually, and you got a bit moved knowing that you both needed it. At this moment Sloane’s wedding became your last most important mission. You wanted to ensure that it’ll be the night of her life and all the happiness she could feel, the same you felt back then, shan’t be disturbed.

• • •

The Hotel Oblivion had never been as beautiful as it was now, with the Hargreeves being the last survivors on earth. Celebrating a wedding a day before the end of the world had something rather beautiful.

You were standing by the aisle, beside Sloane, as you were her maid of honor. You looked at her and Luther with a kind of nostalgia, smiling a bit sadly while Klaus was pronouncing some vows.

As Klaus’s speech continued, Five kept his eyes on you. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia himself as he took in the moment. All the people he loved most were here with him, yet he knew deep down that these would be the last moments they’d get to spend together like this. The thought was more than a little concerning to him, and the hand holding his glass subconsciously clenched into a fist.

At the end of the ceremony, everyone went their separate ways, some dancing on the dance floor, some at the buffet. You headed directly to the bar where all the alcohol was, serving yourself a glass of whisky with the same nostalgia and sadness in your eyes.

Even though you had moved to the bar, it was as if Five’s eyes had never once left you. So he grabbed another glass and joined you at the bar.

“Are you just planning on staying here all night ?” he asked, taking a seat next to you.

Just by his tone, it seemed as if he was trying to hide his concern under his usual snarky demeanor.

“Aren’t you ?” you asked, pouring some whisky into his glass.

You sighed and lifted your glass to raise a toast with him, your smile a bit off. Five raised his glass as well, clinking it against yours.

“You’ve got a point there.”

He took a rather large gulp of the drink before setting the glass down. Five glances at you as a look of concern crossed his face again.

“You’ve got that look on your face. You alright ?”

You sighed and drank your glass bottoms up, then filled it up again. You then turned to see Sloane and Luther dancing happily.

“Do you have any regrets ?” you asked monotonously. “I mean… we never had the time to really enjoy a happy married couple life, you know ?”

He turned his head towards you and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Are you being serious right now ?” he quipped.

“That’s what you’re worried about ? Really ?”

“Did we, Five ?” you asked, looking right at him with pain in your eyes. “I mean, yes, we got married, but for what ? Working two years at the Commission with your name after mine and then coming back in 2019 to save the world and have no fucking break.”

You sighed and drank your glass again, bottoms up, not disturbed by the strength of the alcohol.

He sighed, running a hand down his face as he spoke.

“That … that’s not a very fair question. It’s not as if we could’ve helped it.” he started off, trying to reassure you as he picked up his glass and swirled the alcohol around. “Things just happened that we had to deal with. Like you said, we were more focused on stopping the apocalypse than ... anything normal couples would usually do.”

“I dreamt of a retirement, Five. I truly did,” you let out. “Reappearing here with damn teenage appearances, I… I thought we had a second chance, you know ? Having a whole life for ourselves. But no.”

You sniffed and poured yourself another glass. A look of hurt and concern spread across his face even more at this. He knew how badly you had wanted to experience life like every normal people did and all that came with it, and seeing you admit how disappointed you were … it was crushing for him.

He put his hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it as he tried to find the right words to say to console you.

“You know it’s not too late, right ?” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“We only have a day left, Five. Don’t mock me.”

He grabbed you by both shoulders and turned you to face him, gripping them tight.

“I am not.” he said defensively, his voice regaining its hard, blunt tone. “You’d know that if you’d just listen to me for a minute. What I’m trying to say is … you want to experience being a normal, young adult ? Fine. Well, there’s nothing stopping us now, is there ? So stop sulking and start enjoying this while it lasts.”

You looked at him with surprised eyes, rather shocked by what he said. You didn’t have the words, mouth slightly open. The music stopped and another song started : "Fernando" by ABBA. You felt shivers down your spine hearing it. It was the song that played during your first dance … well, it played on the car radio, and you danced somewhere on the side of the road on your way back from your little clandestine marriage back in 1977.

As soon as he heard the opening beats of this special song, he couldn’t help but smirk and internally snicker, already anticipating his next move. He grabbed your hand with a slightly tight grip and started to pull you to the dance floor.

“Five, what are you doing ?” you gasped, leaving your glass on the table.

You were still a bit shocked but let him pull you anyway.

“Oh my ! Five is going to dance !” Lila exclaimed.

“Awwwww, that is way too cuuuuute !” Klaus chuckled.

“Gross.” Ben added.

Five glared at the others as he dragged you towards the dance floor, ignoring their teasing. However, the death glare changed back into a smirk once he got onto the dance floor and pulled you into his arms.

“Just shut up and dance with me,” he quipped.

“But you never dance …” you whispered.

But you didn’t say a word when he placed your hands on his shoulder and in his palm.

“You’ve been wanting to have your time to enjoy yourself as a married couple, right ?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “So then … why not spend our last night doing exactly that ?”

You huffed, touched by his words. It seemed like the end of the world had opened his eyes somehow, and enjoying every last minute with the people he loved felt more important now, ever since he met his old version saying that he shouldn’t save the world and all that awful stuff …

You smiled at him widely.

“Thank you …” you almost whispered.

His heart felt both heavy and warm at your words. Heavy in the fact that he was suddenly very aware of how limited their time was … but warm in the fact that it seemed like you’d finally come back to your senses.

“Save your thanks and enjoy yourself for the night, okay ?” he replied quietly, a small smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m doing this is so you’ll stop moping and complaining, just so you know.”

“Yeah, right.”

You chuckled, knowing that he was doing it for himself too.

“Though we never thought that we could lose, there's no regret.” you quietly hummed along.

Five spun you around, and he couldn’t help but laugh a bit, enjoying himself much more than he thought he would. Seeing him smile like this, being truly happy after a long time, moved you a bit. Those dimples, his glimmering eyes …

As you hummed to the lyrics of the song, the smirk on his face widened, and he began to sing along.

"If I had to do the same again, I would, my friend, Fernando."

#five hargreeves #five x reader #five hargreaves x reader #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #number five #five x y/n #Spotify

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mydadleft471 · 7 months ago

Text

Envelop Me

Summary: Messmer begins to worry when he realizes he hasn't seen you at all today. Rushing to your chambers, he realizes that you're just on your period and need some comfort.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, per usual. Just my boi being soft and caring for a fem! reader on her period.

Messmer lovers, I've brought an appetizer!

This fic was requested by anonymous! The request was, "Consider: Messmer x reader on their period, he's like a very large heat pack". GENIUS IDEA. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you like it :D

My requests are indeed open! I'm going to get started on my next request as soon as I post this, so be on the lookout for a new fic in the next few days.

Anywho, please enjoy! Thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting on my works! Each and every one makes me wanna kick my feet and giggle fr.

Messmer was beginning to worry about you. Half the day had passed already and he hadn’t seen you out of your chambers. Normally, you’d make your way to him soon after you’d finished breakfast. Even if you planned on spending the day pouring over documents and books in his storehouse, you’d pay him a visit before departing. This was unusual behavior for you. Had he done something to upset you? Did you fall ill overnight? Surely not the latter; his servants would inform him right away of your state and would have taken you to the infirmary.

He decided that he couldn’t sit and wait on his throne for you anymore. He would come to your chambers himself and see what was preventing you from visiting him. Quickly making his way out of his dark chamber, he startles the Fire Knights standing guard outside his door. Taking the steps down two at a time and rushing through the hallways towards your quarters, he notices one of your usual servants standing worried outside your door. Noticing his presence, she bows and steps aside for him to enter.

“Has she come out of her chambers today?” Messmer tries to keep his voice even despite the uncertainty coursing through his veins like fire.

She shakes her head. “No, my Lord. I brought breakfast to her, per usual, and she only ate a little. I asked if she required assistance getting dressed, but she dismissed me and told me she wished to spend the day in bed.”

“And why was this not reported to me?” His eye narrows and the servant shrinks into herself. She looks like she wishes she could dissipate into thin air.

“Sincerest apologies, my Lord. I figured she simply wished to remain alone today. I asked if she was feeling ill, and she said that she was just very tired.”

He sighs. Sometimes, you would prefer to stay in bed all day, but you would come to Messmer’s chambers and you two would laze around together. He cannot recall a time where you would prefer to be alone.

He sighs. “I understand. I will see what bothers her so.”

The servant bows and scurries off, leaving him alone before your door. Never before has he been so afraid to see you. With shaking hands, he raps on your door three times. He hears a faint shuffling of sheets coming from within the room.

“Yes?” He takes immense comfort in the fact that you are responding.

“Beloved, may I come in? I wish to see thee.”

He hears your voice quiver. “I am afraid I don’t feel very well today. I’m not sure I would make good company, My Lord.”

“Whatever is the matter? Dost thou require a healer?” His snakes wrap themselves tighter around his frame, also worried for your wellbeing. They nose at your door, eager to see you.

“No, my love. I’m okay.” Your words come out strained, and his anxiety increases tenfold.

“I wish to see thee with my own eyes to ensure thy good health. Please, my beloved.” He would get on his knees and beg for you to let him in if he had to. He would do anything to know you were alright.

There is a beat of silence before you respond. “Come in.”

He opens the door so fast he almost twists the door off its hinges. He enters swiftly and closes the door, striding over to your side in hurried steps that echo off the marble floors. Messmer’s snakes incline themselves forward and it almost seems like they’re racing him to get to you first. When he arrives at your bedside, the sight he sees makes his heart drop.

You are wrapped in your sheets and comforter with sweat adorning your forehead. You wince in pain and he notices that you are curled in on yourself. You look at him with tired eyes and give him a small smile. His snakes flick their tongues into the air and they taste a hint of blood. Your blood. Messmer erupts in fury and his mind races a mile a minute. His serpents coil and hiss, looking around the room wildly for your attacker.

“What has happened? Who hast dared to hurt thee?!” He roars, summoning his spear. “Tell me now, beloved, and I will ensure they never cause thee pain again.” His voice bounces off the walls of your chamber and he is sure the entire keep can hear him, but he cannot bring himself to care.

You reach weakly for his hand and he immediately takes it, clutching it tightly. You feel the heat radiating off of him. You know you need to calm him down, and soon, lest he burn your favorite blanket to ash.

“No one has hurt me, my love. I’m alright.”

“My serpents smelled thy blood in the air. Who hast hurt thee so?”

“Messmer, I’m on my period. Nobody hurt me.” You wince in pain once again.

He can’t believe he didn’t realize that sooner. In his defense, he thought someone had hurt his sweet consort.

“I see.” He gingerly sits down on the bed beside your crumpled form, still holding your hand. “I apologize if I frightened thee.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance. “You… do know what a period is, yes?”

He raises his brow. “Thou thinkest me a child?”

“No, not at all, I just didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, lightning licks up your spine and radiates throughout your back. You curl in on yourself tighter and breathe heavily.

Messmer’s eye flicks wildly over your covered body. “What wouldst thou have me do? I refuse to stand idly by while thou suffers.”

“Can you come lay with me, please? I just want you to hold me.” Your sweet request has his heart fluttering in his chest.

Wordlessly, he walks over to the other side of the large bed and climbs in. He doesn’t want to ask you to move when you are clearly in so much pain. He shuffles over to you and pulls the blanket up to cover you both. He hovers next to you, unsure of how to hold you. He’s terrified of hurting you on accident.

You roll over and scoot closer to him, your body protesting the sudden movement. You lay your head on his chest and try to get comfortable on your side.

“How dost thou feel now?” He strokes your hair tentatively.

“A little better.” You continue to shift against him.

He sighs and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze. It’s loving and tender. “Wouldst thou be comfortable laying on top of me?”

“I think so.”

He gently lifts your body until you are completely sprawled out on top of him on your stomach with your head in the middle of his chest. He places a large hand on your back and you feel immediate relief. Between the warmth of his body pressed against yours and his hand on your back, your muscles slowly begin to relax.

“You’re so warm…” You mumble into his chest.

“Dost thou require me to move? Have I made thee too warm?” His voice is laced with concern.

“No. It feels wonderful.” You nuzzle your head into him and sigh, content. He smiles and places a light kiss to the top of your head. His serpents nip at the blanket and pull it over you, then carefully wind over your shoulders and lie down.

“Why didst thou not send for me?” He traces small circles into your lower back. “I grew worried at your absence.”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I wouldn’t be good company like this.”

“So thou would rather toil in isolation?”

“That’s very funny coming from you, my love.”

He rolls his eye. “Perhaps I am not the best example to live by when one is in such pain, but I wish to be of comfort, just as thou has been for me. I wish to care for thee, my beloved.”

You lean your head up to look at him and press a kiss to his lips. His cheeks redden from the simple gesture, as they always do. “You care for me plenty.”

“I am glad thou thinkest so.”

You shake your head and smile at him. “I know so. I refuse to hear anymore doubts from you.”

“Thou’rt demanding indeed, but I shall not stand against thy wishes, my Lady.”

You chuckle at him. “I also refuse to get up for another few hours.”

“Being late for dinner does not sound like thee.”

Your stomach grumbles at the mention of dinner, and Messmer laughs.

“How much of the day did I spend wallowing away in misery?”

“About half. Dinner is not far away.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

A comfortable silence encompasses you both and all you can hear are your shared breaths. Messmer lazily flicks his wrist and your fireplace sparks to life. The flames hum and sway side-to-side, dancing. The black tendrils delicately wind their way up and around the flame in almost hypnotizing movements. You’ve always found Messmer’s fire to be beautiful.

You could stay here forever, wrapped in silk sheets and cozy blankets with your lover. His dominant hand caresses your back with feather-light touches and it lulls you into a drowsy haze. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Messmer?” Your voice is serene and quiet.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Do you think we could have dinner in bed? I don’t want to get up.”

He laughs genuinely, a sound you’ve grown to love. It makes you smile to see him happy and carefree. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“You might have to wake me.”

“Though it pains me to disturb thy slumber, I shall, just for thee. Now, rest.” He brings his other hand to your hair and runs his nails across your scalp, making you shiver and relax even further into him.

“You spoil me.”

“I know.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

#messmer the impaler #messmer x reader #messmer x tarnished #elden ring x reader #elden ring messmer #messmer the impaler x reader #soft boi hours #i need a messmer heating pad smh

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